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talesof-old · 2 years

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Welcome to Camp Killbuck Creek

chapter one

Welcome to Camp Killbuck Creek

introducing Hawkins’ very own summer camp, Camp Killbuck Creek.

bordered by Prosperity and Lover’s Lakes and settled along Killbuck Creek, our camp features activities such as kayaking, archery, arts & crafts, and more.

the year is 1983, and after the disappearance of one of the camp’s attendees, nothing with ever be the same.

word count: 7.7k

warning(s): unedited, normal stranger things warnings i supposed, things like gore, blood, violence, death, s1 steve being a douche, disappearance of children, allusions to homophobia

pairing(s): eventual steve x reader

masterlist

a/n: we’re doing great 😀 i’m trying my best and that’s all that matters lmao

little side note - the reader is going to be written as bisexual, also these first few chapters might be a little slow and they definitely jump around because i’m trying to make sure i have all the important bits covered

July 7th, 1983

You hummed along to the radio, “Don’t You Want Me” sounding through the nearly empty meeting hall. Nancy was tacking up the Camp Killbuck Creek banner. The ladder beneath her rocked precariously, a sure sign of things ending badly if the girl didn’t pay attention. You set the box in your hands down on the nearest table. Just as you were about to call out to her, a certain tall brown haired boy ducked into the large room, steadying the ladder beneath her. Nancy yelped at the sudden stability before she giggled. You rolled your eyes and turned, catching a glimpse of Barb struggling with two boxes just outside. You huffed at Steve, who agreed to help her, and rushed out into the heat before Barb hurt herself.

“I wish he would do what he was supposed to.” Barb’s words were soft and mumbled as she spoke, but the venom that seeped into them was enough for you to flinch. Her crush on Nancy had, as far as you were aware, gone completely unnoticed by the object of affection. You chewed on your inner cheek and offered an uneasy smile.

“Look: Steve’s a player, it’s bound to end badly.” The words weren’t exactly encouragement, but it was the only peace you could offer her. Nancy was head over heels infatuated with Steve, blushing and starry eyed whenever he was around, despite her vehement denials.

Barb only sighed and you were quick to reach out and grab the top box, groaning as you felt the weight. Barb sent you a small smile and the two of you shuffled into the meeting hall. Nancy was now safely on solid ground, arms crossed and hugging herself as she laughed at something Steve said. You set the box down next to the others. Barb followed suit, eyes focused on Nancy as you glanced around. The meeting hall, which would be the designated area for breakfast and lunches, as well as arts and crafts, still had a lot of cleaning up and organizing that had to be done. Tommy and Steve had already taken brooms through the entire place, sweeping away spider webs and dust while the three of you unpacked the two vans filled with groceries and supplies. Eddie and Jonathan had taken it upon themselves to start cleaning the cabins, Eddie muttering something about getting away from the popular assholes. You’d simply nodded along to his statement and wandered after Barb.

“I wonder how long it will take for her to admit they’re actually dating,” Barb whispered in your ear. You shrugged, eyes focused on Steve as he leaned against the old wooden panels of the wall. He was obnoxiously rude, even at school, though you had to admit the rumors made you curious. Barb nudged you and jutted her chin at the boxes of t-shirts you would be handing out to the kids this year.

Apparently, last year the camp shirts had been atrocious, a neon orange with blocky lettering that everyone complained about. Mr. Coleman had eventually agreed to allow you to design the shirts. You’d enlisted Robin Buckley’s help and the two of you had created a light blue shirt with darker lettering that you would actually wear outside of volunteering. Robin had begged you to sneak her in, but unfortunately, she was too old to be an attendee and too young to be a youth camp counselor. You simply patted her shoulder and gave her a “There’s always next year,” in response.

The two of you made your way through the mess and opened the boxes, separating them each by size. You set aside several, one in your own size and then another two, each in Barb’s and Nancy’s size. The three of you had decided in the days leading up to your summer volunteering that you would get one of the camper’s shirts in addition to your own camp counselor t-shirts. You’d be expected to wear these shirts most of the time you were here anyway.

Barb sat down on one of the benches, organizing the piles and keeping them neatly folded while you handed them to her. It was mind numbing, these moments. You’d loved the idea of it, you supposed. Back home, you’d gone to summer camps just like this and enjoyed them immensely. Now you were second guessing yourself. The midwestern heat was different than you were used to, though you can’t say you hate it. If you got to be by the water most of the day you’d probably be fine.

Nancy raced over, clutching the unfolded shirts in her hands as she read their tags. You certainly didn’t miss the bright red blush on her cheeks as you watched her. Barb rolled her eyes and smirked. You raised a brow but continued with the task at hand. Barb’s ability to keep her crush on Nancy from Nancy was mind-boggling, frustrating at best and heartbreaking at worst. You bent over, grabbing a handful of shirts and setting them in their respective piles.

“So, how’s your boyfriend-” Barb was cut off by Nancy’s insistent and flustered voice.

“He’s not my boyfriend.”

July 16th, 1983

A man ran down the sleek halls. His panting had nothing to do with the quickness in which he was moving down the hall. His heart was thumping hard against his ribcage because of the monster stalking the halls.

Last he could remember, it was killing his coworkers on the floor below. He slammed his fingers against the elevator button. Screams echoed through the lab and he inhaled sharply, hitting the elevator button again in a panic.

The doors opened, showcasing an empty ticket to safety. The screams became louder, closer than they were before and his hands trembled as he frantically pushed against the close door button. The elevator doors slowly inched closer.

He slumped against the wall, heart still racing, when a sharp clicking noise sent the organ skipping a beat. His stomach sank and he tilted his head upward. The monster reached for him, cutting off his scream as it wrapped its teeth around his face and throat.

The elevator door shut.

July 17th, 1983

“Do you hear that?” Mike’s voice is deadly serious as he peeked over the folder hiding his campaign notes. “Listen…”

Dustin, Will, and Lucas glanced between each other and Mike, eyes wide in anticipation as the day’s campaign is coming to an end. Empty coke cans are scattered around them on the floor of their cabin room, a nearly empty pizza box courtesy of Y/n is off to the side, forgotten in the excitement.

“Something is coming.“

Dustin’s mouth opened in disbelief, heart racing as he tried to come up with an explanation as to what he and his companions were going to have to face. Lucas was already shaking his head.

“... Something hungry for blood... “

“A shadow grows on the wall behind you, swallowing you in darkness; it is almost here-”

All three of them leaned forward, eyes flitting to their figurines. Will was nervous, head tilted as he all but whispered, “What is it?”

Dustin was quick to offer an option, shaking his head in disbelief.

“What if it's the Demogorgon? We're in deep shit if it's the Demogorgon-”

Bewilderment was heavy in the air, a thick taste on one’s tongue as time seemed to still. The possibility that their characters won’t make it out of this was at the forefront of their minds. The idea that things might not end well.

“It's not the Demogorgon!” Lucas rolled his eyes, gesturing to Mike’s folder as if that explains anything at all. The monster, a Prince of Demons, was more than he could ever expect from this campaign.

Mike watched with a strange look of knowing on his face. A smile threatened to emerge on his lips, but he forced it away, keeping his gaze on his riled up friends. Their expectant faces turned to him. “An army of Troglodytes charge into the chamber!”

He slammed the figurines onto the floor, exclamations of surprise and relief filling the room. Mike continued on his tirade, furthering along the game as the boys bicker about the adversary. Lucas leaned back, smug. Mike’s eyes grew wide and he looked over his shoulder. His voice trembled as he built suspense. He slammed a two-headed figurine on the table, voice booming as he said, “The Demogorgon.”

For a brief second, stunned silence filled the too warm air.

Then,

“We’re in deep shit.” Dustin murmured.

Soon, the room was filled with the sound of Lucas urging Will to fireball the creatures to save everyone. Dustin was just as loud, arguing that Will needed to instead cast a protection spell. Tired of their indecision, Mike forced their move. Will scrambled to roll, hands shaky as he threw the dice. It bounced off the ground hard and fast, scattering before the boys knew what happened.

Dustin spotted it by the door, “Is it a thirteen?” They just barely reached it to examine it before the door opened, Y/n standing with their hands on their hips. Mike groaned.

“Y/n, we’re in the middle of a campaign-”

You raised a brow. You’d given them more leeway than most. They were up thirty minutes past lights out, and given how loud they were, you weren’t sure you’d let them get away with it again. A glance at your watch told you it was five til ten.

“You mean the end.”

Mike rolled his eyes and groaned, following you as you turned on your heels and started walking down the hallway. Everyone else’s doors were closed and their lights off, though you’d be a fool if you believed half of them were asleep. You remembered how it was. Using your flashlights or lanterns for light and giggling well into the night, only to regret it when it was time to greet the day.

“Just twenty more minutes-” Despite the way your heart tugged at you, you shook your head. You had a responsibility, unfortunately for them. Your shirt clung to your back, sweaty from the heat as you sighed at Mike’s pleading eyes. He was cute, and reminded you too much of your younger brother.

“You guys have an early morning, I’m sorry. Everyone else needs sleep, so you’ll just have to finish it next Sunday or something-” He was quick when he cut you off. Any other time, you might’ve let it slide, but you were tired, sweaty, and ready to call it a day. The shitty old shower in your cabin was calling your name, and your body ached just thinking about your bed.

“That’ll ruin the flow!”

He ran in front of you, arms flailing as he tried to convince you to let them continue. You sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose in a plea to whatever divine being was listening at the moment. These kids were going to be the death of you. You heard the mumbles of the other three boys behind you. You glanced behind you but Mike spoke before you could focus on what the other kids were doing.

“I'm serious, Y/n! It took two weeks to plan. How was I supposed to know it'd take ten hours?”

You blinked in surprise. What the fuck are these kids on?

A part of you felt as though you shouldn’t be surprised. Eddie had played numerous campaigns, some of which you’d watched, and they could drag on for hours. You didn’t doubt that these boys had been holed up all day.

“You've been playing for ten hours?” The tone was far more exasperated than you��d originally planned for it to be, but it was late, so you were beyond trying to reason with him. Mike opened his mouth as if to reply. Then, as if thinking better of it, he darted back into the room the four were residing in.

You huffed, turning back to see Will with his flashlight walking towards you and the entrance. Strangely enough, you’d heard him mutter something that sounded a lot like “It got me,” as he passed Mike in the hallway. You raised a brow at the young boy. He shrugged, a sheepish smile on his face. “Bathroom.” You nodded, the assumption that one of the boys would be joining his walk to the bathhouse since you’d spent the entire first week not shutting up about the buddy system.

You left the cabin, eyes drooping. Above you, the light illuminating the door and ground flickered before resuming a steady light. You shook your head, making a mental note to check for a potential replacement, and started back towards your own cabin. If you’d been more awake, you might have noticed just how silent the woods around you had become. How it felt as though something was watching, waiting.

+++

Will made sure to be quick in his efforts to get to the nearest bathhouse. His mother, Joyce, had made him promise to check in with Jonathan each night, and the bathrooms were just a minute walk from his older brother’s cabin. He kept his bike, which Joyce had brought over that morning, steady over the uneven trail, shining his flashlight in front of him to hopefully avoid any less than friendly animals.

He passed a large sign, one that at this point, he’d gotten far too used to. It wasn’t his first time at this camp. The large, bold letters read:

HAWKINS NATIONAL LABORATORY.

RESTRICTED AREA. NO TRESPASSING.

His bike’s light flickered in the night, and he glanced down. Around him, everything seemed to quiet. The light returned to normal. Will glanced up, a loud gasp tearing from his throat as he took in the tall, misshapen figure standing just yards in front of him. He yanks the handlebars of his bike backwards, a desperate attempt to avoid crashing. His bike veered off the trail. He crashes into the ground, rolling away from his bike and coming to a painful stop. Behind him, a sharp clicking and rumbling noise can be heard. It grows louder, and the thought that it might be coming for him briefly passed the boy’s mind before he’s running.

By now, he’s long since forgotten the need to pee. No, instead, he’s racing to get to his brother’s cabin. Perhaps, Jonathan will know what to do. Even if he doesn’t, the camp counselors' cabins all have guns, since gun shooting used to be an activity at Camp Killbuck Creek.

He bursted into a clearing, taking in the shadowed cabin. His heart thumped against his chest. He ran forward, throwing open the door before slamming it shut and locking it behind him. “Jonathan?” His voice sounded weak as he called out. Panic was clawing at his throat as he realized there was no one here.

He shook his head, peeking out of the front window. For a moment, it seemed as though he’d lost whatever was following him. He blinked, the figure seeming to appear from nowhere just at the treeline. Will paled, eyes wide as he took in the outline of the creature. It didn’t seem human, he realized; its arms were too long, its head was too big. He blinked again and suddenly it was gone. He stumbled backwards.

He raced down the hall. This cabin had a phone. He’d seen Jonathan use it several times to talk to his mom. He spotted the bright yellow phone hanging and nearly slammed into the wall to get to it, hands shaking as he dialed 911. There is no ringing. Dread filled his stomach as he heard what sounded like the creature through the phone, as though it was trying to tell him something. As though it was trying to talk to him. He glanced at the door down the hall. He made out the silhouette of the monster just outside the door. The lock began to slide out of place.

Will made a run for it, out the back door and into the shed that holds the rifles. The shed door slammed behind him with a loud wham!, though by now his attention is solely on how he can protect himself. The shed light flickers above him. He grabbed the nearest gun, attempting to load it as fast as possible. His hands shook as he did his best, trying to ignore the fear that resided in his stomach. He finished loading the rifle, snapping the chamber closed and aiming it towards the door.

Behind him, a shadowy figure rose. Will stilled as he realized he could no longer hear anything from beyond the door. His muscles tensed as he felt a soft breeze long the back of his neck. He turned slowly, rifle lowering as he took in the face of the monster. Tears burned his eyes but all he could do was stare in shock.

“P-please…” His voice trembled as he pleaded.

The lightbulb above him grew brighter, steadily becoming too much to bear, but right before it burst, it dimmed.

The shed was now empty.

July 18th, 1983

You were stocking up your first aid kid when Jonathan rushed into the meeting hall, frantic and followed by his equally distressed mother. You blinked in surprise. Joyce normally volunteered here on her days off to spend time with her sons, or so you’d heard for Mr. Coleman. You set down your backpack as Jonathan beelined for you.

“Barb said you checked on Will last night?” It was less a statement, more a question. You frowned as you thought back to last night. It was no secret that the two brothers were close. You’d overheard Steve complaining about Will coming to check in with Jonathan some nights if Jonathan didn’t check in on him in his own cabin.

“Yeah, he was up late playing a game with his friends.” Jonathan ran a hand over his face, turning to his mom. Joyce was shaking as she looked at you. You blinked again, heart dropping as you took in their faces.

“Why? What happened?”

“We can’t find Will-” Jonathan’s voice cracked as he spoke. Your brow furrowed at the information. You’d left right before he went to the bathhouse, it was possible something had happened on the way there. But why wouldn’t whoever his buddy was say something?

“Was there anything weird that you noticed last night?”

You turned to Joyce, mind racing. Did he even have a buddy last night? Now that you thought about it, the woods had been oddly quiet. You gnawed on your inner cheek. If something had happened…

“All I know was that I heard him say he was going to the bathhouse,” You were careful with your words. Joyce seemed frazzled enough as it was. It would do no good to make things worse. She leaned forward, urging you to say more.

“I had to go to bed, I just assumed he’d taken one of his friends as his buddy.” Joyce frowned but nodded, eyes turned to the floor. Jonathan shook his head. You thought back to last night again. There hadn’t been anything out of the ordinary. You’d tripped on your way there because you’d scared yourself, scraping your knee bad enough for it to bleed. You’d heard a strange noise off to your right while you were doing your rounds. Tommy was supposed to go with you, but he’d refused in favor of spending time with his girlfriend.

The pair left and you turned back to your backpack. Something wasn’t right, you could feel it. The noise you’d heard that night hadn’t been like anything you’d heard before. It was a strange rumbling noise that you’d been unable to pinpoint.

It didn’t take long for Joyce to go to the police station. The off-ness of the situation wasn’t lost on you. Will wasn’t the kind of kid to just up and run away. You continued with your day, teaching kids first aid for burns for an hour after breakfast before eventually making your way to the kayaking station. Eddie was lounging inside the small marked building, annoyed with the sun if his face told you anything. You laughed at his expression, ducking into the small space and motioning out the open front.

“A kid might’ve gone missing. Do you think they’ll send everybody home?” Eddie was fiddling with a pair of sticks in his hand, mock drumming to some imaginary song. His lack of care was enough to tell you he didn’t think so. Not surprising, given his current hatred of cops and of anyone with money.

“Parents pay to send their kids here. As long as there’s money involved, I doubt they’ll do anything.” You nodded, taking a seat next to him. Yours had been an unlikely friendship. It was still something discouraged, Barb and Nancy begging you to stay away from “The Freak” as everyone had labeled him. You simply ignored them, curious as to why he was so hated by the general population. The reason still eluded you.

You rested your head on his shoulder, eyes fluttering shut. The heat, which normally energized you, seemed to have drained you of everything today. Eddie settled, lifting his legs to rest on the counter space. An hour from now, Nancy and Barb expected you to meet up with them at your shared cabin. The other camp counselors were all supposed to be doing things, but you’d convinced Eddie to cover for you.

The hour passed without incident. Eddie shook you awake when your watch alarm went off, chuckling as you nearly fell off your seat. You sent him a half-hearted glare and turned off the alarm. The heat and humidity seemed especially oppressive today, sticky as if it desired to cling to your skin. You groaned and ran a hand over your face. “You don’t have to go.” His smile was cheeky as he wiggled his brows and you gently shoved him away, laughing at his suggestion.

“See you at dinner, my dear.” He bowed his head in mock respect and you rolled your eyes, grabbing your backpack and water bottle. Most of the kids had given up on actually trying to kayak and were now swimming in the lake. You smiled at their playful antics.

A part of you wished you’d brought your bike, all things considered. Instead, it was chained up by your cabin. You huffed as you kept walking, thankful you remembered to spray your entire body in bug spray before going to the lake. Kids ran past you, giggling mischievously as they made their way to wherever they had planned. You shook your head and glanced upwards. You still had a little ways before you got to your own cabin.

You closed the door with a groan, leaning against the wood. Your face was hot and sweaty, your bra rubbing against your skin uncomfortably. You made your way back to your room, brow raised when you spotted Nancy and Barb sitting on the unused bed.

“Hi?” Nancy gave you an awkward little wave, ignoring Barb’s teasing nudge. You smiled, dropping your stuff at the foot of your bed and falling on top of the sheets with another groan. You hated the heat. Or at least, you hated this heat. You much preferred being able to sit in air conditioning when it was this hot. Barb’s voice was singsongy as she questioned Nancy on whether or not Steve had called after she’d gone to bed.

You turned your face toward the two of them. Nancy was red in the face, a sharp “it’s not like that,” coming from her lips as she sent Barb a stern look. You giggled. Her glare turned to you and you raised a brow, daring her to say anything. Steve had been all over her for ages. She’d been all over him for ages. It was bound to happen eventually.

“Okay, I mean, yes, fine, he likes me, you know, but not like that.” She shook her head, a soft smile overtaking her features. You smiled at the sight. Despite understanding Barb’s feelings, you liked to see Nancy happy. Her voice was quiet and nearly shy as she spoke again. “We just made out a couple times.”

You laughed louder this time, especially as Barb teased her. Nancy’s cheeks burned cherry red and you relaxed into the covers of your bed. It was hard not to be at ease with the two of them. All three of you were studious, serious in your studying and content to avoid parties. Perfect Nancy, who was sweet with everyone but her family, who was caring and kind and desperate to fit in. Sweet Barb, who was loyal to a fault and spent too much time worrying about her friends. Your heart ached for the two of them. In the past, you might have considered yourself more similar to them than you would have liked. Ever the people pleaser, content on destroying yourself if it made others happy. By the time you’d left your old town however, you’d pushed away that part of yourself. It was one of the reasons you got along so well with the girls. You could understand them, but were still willing to stick up for yourself when the time came.

“You better still hang out with me, that's all I'm saying. If you become friends with Carol and Tommy H-” Barb’s teasing voice brought you from your thoughts. Nancy cut her off with a scoff, a look of pure disbelief on her face.

“Gross. And I'm telling you, this was just a one-time, two-time thing, alright?”

The three of you made your way to Nancy and Barb’s shared room. As she opened the door, she spotted a folded up note on the floor. You sent her a knowing look as she reached down and opened it up. Barb smirked as she peeked over Nancy’s shoulder.

Meet me. Behind bathhouse. Steve

Barb leaned against the wall as Nancy blushed. “You were saying?”

+++

It’s not until later that afternoon that the police show up and start asking questions. First, they spoke to Mike, Lucas, and Dustin. You didn’t even know they were there until you entered the meeting hall. You were supposed to be preparing the supplies for friendship bracelet making, but instead, they pulled you to the side and started asking you questions.

You told them as much as you knew. From the look of it, Police Chief Hopper was beyond frustrated. You didn't know Joyce well, but if she was anything like your mother, she would stop at nothing until she found out what happened. Or found you. Or both.

By the kids’ free time, which hit at exactly 4pm, Jonathan and Joyce were searching for Will in the surrounding woods. A knot had formed in your stomach since talking to the pair this morning, but it seemed to have worsened as time went on. According to Eddie, the police were also searching the area for any sign that Will had run away.

You frowned. The heat was hard to beat, and you were sure it wasn’t helping any matters. Jonathan had all but dragged his mother into the meeting hall, demanding that she take a break and drink something before she hurt herself. You made sure to get out of their way. If one of your siblings went missing…

You shook your head. There was no point in thinking about that.

Joyce was at the phone in the kitchen when the police cars pulled up. You tensed, glancing at Jonathan who was already calling to his mom. A group of kids was headed towards the doors of the meeting hall and you met them outside, informing them that something had come up and that Nancy was leading arts and crafts at the pavilion tables. They grumbled something about the sun and left you to return inside.

A part of you felt responsible for this. If you’d been paying more attention, maybe you would have noticed that Will was leaving the cabin alone. You would’ve walked with him. Made sure he was alright. You bit the inside of your cheek.

Hopper had pulled Will’s bike from the back of his truck when you peeked out the window and your heart stuttered. Jonathan and Joyce were clearly panicked by the sight. You shook your head, stepping outside as Hopper motions for them to follow him down a trail. You sighed, returning to the inside of the meeting hall and grabbing the box of beads Nancy asked you to grab.

+++

Jonathan’s voice was harsh as he kept his gaze on the police chief. “If you found his bike out there, why're you here?”

The camp counselors’ cabin was empty at this time, all of the teenagers elsewhere since they were supposed to be supervising the kids. Hopper examined the walls, looked around the rooms.

“He come here often?”

Jonathan shrugged. “I mean, sometimes. He checks in every night since sometimes he gets homesick.”

“So maybe he came here.”

Joyce clenched her jaw in frustration. The two of them had already gone over the entire cabin to see if there was anything Will might’ve left behind. Jonathan shook his head. He was supposed to be there that night, supposed to make sure his baby brother was okay before going to bed. Instead, he’d let himself get roped into helping clean when it was supposed to be Tommy’s night.

A strange noise came from outside and Hopper quickly opened the back door. A stray cat was hissing at the shed, back arched and tail straight as it stared at the unsuspecting building. Hopper’s shoulders tensed and he crept forward, praying to a god he didn’t even believe in that he wouldn’t find a body. The door swung open with ease and he shined his flashlight into the old building. He turned off the flashlight and pocketed it.

He entered the shed, flipped on the light switch. The light above him shone brightly as he checked over the contents of the building. Dust covered the table, a half empty box of ammunition enough for him to look closer. On the wall, a rifle is missing. The lightbulb began to flicker. He tilted his head upward, a frown on his face as it continued to dim and brighten. It cut out suddenly, leaving him in darkness. Behind him, there’s a strange growling noise that sends him turning, brows furrowed. The hell is that coming from?

He grabbed his flashlight, shining it into the room to find the source. Hopper spotted nothing. Despite that, the sound grew louder. Loud enough that he was reaching for his gun-

Officer Callahan entered the shed. His face is twisted in what seemed like annoyance.

“You deaf? I’ve been callin’ you.”

Hopper shook his head, the light above him flickering back to life. He glanced up at it before brushing past Callahan. He’s quick in his pace. Something isn’t right, he can feel it.

“You sure you're alright, Chief?”

Callahan’s voice is concerned as he struggled to keep up with Hopper. Even he could tell something was wrong, though his money was definitely on the brother. Hopper barely paused before he said, “I want you to call Florence, have her get a search party together, as many volunteers as she can muster, flashlights too.”

Callahan bit back a groan. If this turned into something big, the paperwork was going to be atrocious. Just thinking about it gave him half a mind to quit. “Think we got a problem here?”

Hopper doesn’t answer.

+++

Outside, cicadas sounded. Mike was sitting in the meeting hall with Nancy, his parents and younger sister seated next to them.

“We should be out there right now. We should be helping look for him.”

Karen Wheeler frowned. She could only imagine how he felt right now. A pang of sympathy shot through her as she looked at her son. He was angry, she could tell, his eyes glinting hard in the dim lighting. Ted and her had come down to check on the kids, and she still had half a mind to take them home.

“We've been over this. The chief said-”

“I don't care what the chief said.” His voice was rough as he interrupted her. She stared at him. “Michael-”

“He's not even real police, Mom. We have to do something -- Will could be in danger!”

Karen set down the fast food she’d been eating. Mike had barely touched the fries he normally inhaled. She sighed. “More reason to stay put.”

Mike groaned a simple “Mom,” before Karen interrupted him. “End of discussion.” Her words were harsher than she intended, but it got her point across nonetheless. She wouldn’t have her kids just disappearing on her. Even if they hated her for it.

Mike looked away, frustrated and annoyed at his parents' seeming lack of care. Karen, Ted, and Holly resumed eating. It was dead silent. Mike stared to the side, debating whether or not it would even be a good idea to keep pushing the matter.

Nancy’s voice was nearly too casual when she spoke. “So... me, Barb, and Y/n... we're gonna hang out with some of the other counselors tonight. That's cool, right?” Karen looked up from her meal. Her features were hard as she stared at her. Her daughter, her intelligent, too smart daughter, was serious in her question.

“No. Not cool.” She set down her food again. Her children, for some reason, didn’t seem to understand the gravity of the situation. A child had gone missing, and until they found him, she would be keeping an eye on them.

Nancy fought back, demanding to know why she was being punished when Will was the one who had gotten lost. It was unfair, in her mind, a stupid rule considering he was probably fine. Mike slammed his hands on the table, furious at his sister’s casual cruelty. Karen’s jaw dropped, unsure of how to deal with this sudden display of rudeness from both of her children. Holly whined at the increasing volume around her. Nancy stormed away, back to the room the camp director had moved her into at Karen’s insistence.

Holly began to cry, reaching for her mom almost immediately. Karen takes a brief moment to stare after her oldest daughter before reaching to gather Holly into her arms. Holly curled into her mom’s chest. Ted continued to eat, apathetic to the argument that just occurred around him. Karen sighed, soothing Holly. Mike threw his hands up. “I'm the only one acting normal here, I'm the only who cares about Will!”

Ted nearly rolled his eyes at what he viewed as a dramatic statement. There was no point in reassuring his son, in his mind. He was already upset. Anything he said would make it worse.

“That's not fair, Michael. We care.”

Mike stared at his father before storming away in a similar fashion to Nancy. A plan to sneak out was already forming in his mind. His backpack was already supplied with the things he would need; flashlights, a poncho, his walkie-talkie. He reached for the bag, already prepared to convince his friends to aid him.

Minutes later, Mike was sneaking out of the cabin, bike nearly silent as he traveled over uneven ground. He paused at a movement from the corner of his eye. Steve Harrington, attempting to climb through his sister’s window. Mike blinked. Steve froze, making eye contact with Nancy’s younger brother. Both boys paused, an uncomfortable beat passing before Steve sent him an awkward wave. Mike rolled his eyes. Unbelievable. He turned his head, pedaling away and into the night.

+++

All three boys met up at the front of the cabin they’d been staying in just the night before. They were silent as they rode forward. Thunder sounded in the distance. Eventually, Mike came to a stop. The other two boys huffed, slowing down to a stop beside him.

“Why are we stopping?” Lucas raised a brow at the boy beside him. Mike didn’t say anything, just kept his gaze on the woods beside him. Dustin and Lucas followed his gaze, hearts racing when they spotted the yellow police tape. A strange feeling overcame each boy. Much like the feeling that occurred just the night before, just much, much more real.

A loud crack of thunder sent them jumping. Lightning flashed and Dustin glanced up, only for a raindrop to hit his cheek. It was cold enough to make him flinch.

“Oh man. You guys feel that?”

He held his hand out. Several drops of rain hit his palm. The sound of the sky opening up close by was enough for him to pause.

“Maybe we should go back.”

The realness of the situation was slowly sinking in for Dustin. Will had gone missing, and maybe it was a good idea to let the police handle it. Who knows, maybe the thing that took him was still out there. Neither of the other boys are listening to him. In fact, it almost seemed as though they were convincing themselves that this was the only option.

“No splitting up or anything stupid like that, but stay on channel six. Just in case.”

He handed a walkie-talkie to Dustin, already turning and ducking underneath the yellow tape. Dustin watched with wide eyes. Lucas glanced between the dark forest and his friend before following after Mike. Dustin stood there, frozen in both surprise and fear. Another loud boom of thunder sent him sputtering, calling after his friends and following them into the woods.

+++

Jonathan leaned into his mom, tears welled in his eyes. Joyce rubbed his back. “He's gonna come home soon. I know it. I know it... because I feel him. I feel him in my heart. He's close. He's close. You believe me, Jonathan, right?” Jonathan, whose gaze had been trained on the table in front of him, finally glanced up at his mom. Joyce was looking at him with a watery smile. He nodded.

Joyce glanced down at the pictures in front of her. Several were of Will, but a particular one caught her eye. He was smiling wide, the picture of a happy boy. She let out a weak laugh. “Oh this one--I... I always liked this one.” Jonathan smiled, watching as she picked up the semi-recent photo. His stomach churned as he looked at his brother. “Me too,” he responded softly.

Joyce stared at her eldest for a moment, only to be startled by the shrill sound of the phone ringing. Both of them paused. If it was news, there was a chance it was bad. There was a chance they would find out something that they really didn’t want to know. Joyce felt faint as she walked to the phone, answering it with a hesitant, “Yes -- hel-hello?”

There was nothing but silence on the other end. Then, a low breathing. Her brow furrowed as she strained to make out the background sound. “Lonnie? Hopper?” When there was still no response, Joyce felt her heart begin to pound in her ears. Jonathan began to approach her.

“Who is this?”

The breathing on the other end got louder. She strained to listen. It sounded familiar, and far too much like the breathing of a child. Tears stung her eyes and she paled. Jonathan was quick to race over to her. “Where are you, baby?! Talk to me! WILL?! WILL?!” But already, the sound of her son’s breathing is gone. Instead, all she could hear was an odd growling, something a little too inhumane for her to bear.

“WHO IS THIS? WHAT HAVE DONE WITH MY BABY?! WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?!!”

Joyce was frantic with her words, terrified that her son was just beyond her reach. The growling faded, a long stretch of silence spanning for what felt like an eternity gnawing at her heart. Jonathan was clutching at her. His face was riddled with guilt as he watched his mother panic.

A high pitched shriek sounded in Joyce’s ear. She gasped, her ear and palm throbbing in pain as she dropped the phone. Her palm is seared, an ugly, furious red as Jonathan screamed into the phone. She backed away. Something acidic curled in her stomach. Her son turned to her, pale in the face.

The line was dead.

Joyce’s back hit the wall. She slid down the wall, a sob already catching in her throat.

+++

“Will? WILL???” The boys were shining their flashlights into the darkness around them, the light reflecting off the thick sheets of rain falling. Despite wearing ponchos, each of them has been soaked. Dustin brushed a curl from his forehead, frowning at the other two.

“Byers?!”

They try for what felt like hours, desperately calling out to their dear friend. There was never any response. Merely silence, and the steady beat of rain. It was clear that they were not going to get anywhere. Mike was determined though, both Lucas and Dustin could see. It was enough to keep them pushing through.

“Guys, I really think we should turn back--”

Dustin attempted to keep any trembling out of his voice, but it was obvious he was scared. He’d be a fool if he wasn’t, in his opinion. There was possibly something out here snatching up little kids. He had every right to be afraid.

Lucas was quick to cut him off. “Seriously, Dustin, if you want to be a baby, just go home already.” He was tired, annoyed by both the rain and his friend. Though, if he thought harder about it, the rain was a welcome reprieve from the stifling heat they’d been subjected to the past few days.

“I'm just being realistic, Lucas--” His voice was nearly whiney as he spoke.

“No, you're being a sissy--”

Lucas and Dustin bickered back and forth, the latter bringing up his inner thoughts about a potential dangerous kidnapper, despite his friends attempts to shut him up. Mike turned away from his two friends, eyes scanning the woods around him. The sound of something cracking had caught his attention. Dustin and Lucas kept at it, voices slowly growing louder.

“Shut up!” Mike’s voice rang through the rain.

By the time the boys turned to him, they realized this had less to do with anger than with something else. Mike was listening to the sounds around them. Dustin crept closer to Mike. Lucas followed suit, each boy pointing his flashlight in another direction.

Mike’s voice was low, near a whisper when he spoke next. “You guys hear that?”

There’s the sound of something rustling not far from where they’re standing. Mike slowly directed his flashlight to the side, eyes trained on the space he was illuminating. The sound of something moving behind them had them scrambling, each boy whirling around to see what’s there. Their eyes were wide as they took in the figure before them. She was bald, eyes wild as she flinched back from their bright lights. The girl caught Mike’s gaze, their eyes locking. The rain around them fell harder and thunder clapped loudly. The boys glanced at each other. They might not have found Will, but maybe they’d found someone who could help them.

+++

You groaned as the thunder kept you awake. Normally, you found thunderstorms soothing, but today you could only find it unsettling. Nancy was off at a cabin much closer to the parking lot, which left Barb and you alone in your rooms. You sighed, wrapping yourself in your blanket and climbing out of your bed. You grabbed your pillow before exiting your room. Your feet padded softly against the ground, muffled by your socks as you went next door to Barb’s room. You knocked quietly, hoping that she was awake. You waited a moment. The seconds ticked by, time stretching before you endlessly. Just before you were going to give up, Barb opened the door. A flashlight was on by her bedside, her glasses case open on the bedside table.

“Sorry,” you smiled sheepishly. She smiled back at you, opening the door further and retreating back to her bed. You shut it behind her. She settled underneath her covers, glancing at you before taking off her glasses. You curled up on Nancy’s bed, smushing your face into your pillow and making sure your entire body is covered by the blankets.

It was silent for a while, save the rain. You were beginning to doze off, legs aching and mind slowing as you began to fall asleep.

“I don’t see what she sees in him.”

You jerked awake. Blinking furiously, you turned to her. It took a couple of seconds for your brain to catch up with what she was saying. “Hmm?”

You stared at her, watching as she kept her gaze trained on the ceiling. A frown tugged at her lips. Sighing, you shrugged. “Barb, I’m gonna be completely honest, the only reason I would be interested in him is his dick-”

A pillow was thrown in your direction, cutting off your sentence. Barb was laughing despite herself. You smiled. She turned her head towards you, her expression thoughtful. It was startling enough to make you pause. “What?”

She shook her head and turned her eyes back to the ceiling. It was hard, you guessed. Crushing on someone who would probably never like you back was rough. You’d been in that position plenty of times.

“I’m glad you’re my friend, ya know? Is it weird that I’m actually excited that we’re probably going to be taking a class or two together when school starts again?” You laughed. Of course Barb was already thinking about school. One of the smartest girls in the grade, she was well on her way to getting into her dream school and getting the hell out of Hawkins.

You closed your eyes again. “I mean, maybe a little? I’m so over school at this point.” She was silent in response. You peeked out of one of your eyes just in time to see her shutting off the flashlight.

Darkness swallowed the room, and not long after, sleep swallowed you.

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x nancy wheeler #jonathan byers x nancy wheeler #eddie munson #barbara holland #nancy wheeler #steve harrington #stranger things #stranger things season 4 #welcome to camp killbuck creek

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ariadne-does-her-best · 3 years

Text

Sparks Dancing Across Your Skin

Jason Todd x Reader One-Shot; Soulmate!Au

Word Count: 5,000+

Warnings: Mentions of death, gets very angsty but ends with a happy ending :)

Author's Note: Hey guys! I just wanted to let you know that I’m trying to post once every two weeks on Sunday but its very difficult for me right now. I just started college this week so I haven't been very active on any of my socials because of my orientation schedule. Originally, this was going to be around the same length as the Dick one-shot but when I finished writing it, it didn’t feel complete so I may go back and turn this into a series. I’m not very satisfied with this but I did want to try and post regularly. Please let me know how you like this and if you would be willing to read a series with a similar plot. Thank you, Ariadne.

Summary: As someone with a busy schedule, you never really thought of who could be your soulmate. Rather you didn’t have the time. But lucky for you, it’s your friend. Unluckily for you, he’s a vigilante and you don’t even know his secret identity.

You sighed as you packed up your belongings. You never meant to stay late but here you were, sitting in Mrs. Jones’s classroom, and if the clock was correct, Mrs. Jones herself had left more than two hours ago.

The class committee meetings weren’t supposed to take so long but that was only if the president, vice president, and secretary were all sharing the workload. As president, you had to pick up all of the slack that your friends left you. But you didn’t mind since you understood that they also have a life outside of school.

As you left the classroom, you made sure the door was locked on the inside before checking your phone. You only had one text and it was from your mother, telling you that she had to jet over to Paris to meet with an investor and that your father had gone to South Korea to look at some sort of textile for her. She ended the text by saying that she loves you and that she’ll try to be back in a week.

You stuffed your phone back into your pocket, turning the corner of the hallway towards the main entrance. You had parked your car in the back of the parking lot, something that you had started to regret once you saw how deserted the school really was. Remembering the fact that most people were kidnapped in parking lots, albeit grocery store parking lots, they were still parking lots at the end of the day. You sped up when you saw your car and yanked the door open before locking it after sitting inside. When you turned around to put your seatbelt on, you let out a scream when you saw that someone was in your backseat.

“Calm down, it's just me,” the boy said in the back, his red domino mask doing nothing to mask the laughter threatening to spill out of his mouth.

You sighed, running a hand through your hair as you stared at the boy who was laying on your backseat. Robin was organizing the items in your car, putting them into two piles. You watched him as he pulled out a piece of gum and popped a bubble. You smiled as you shook your head before coughing as you turned your car on, effectively grabbing his attention.

“You wanna go to the diner and tell me why you’re not with the Bat tonight?”

At that he pursed his lips, a small smile threatening to spill over.

“I dunno if I should…”

“I’ll pay.”

“Deal.”

*****

When you had first met Robin, it was after he had tried to help you escape from a mugger. Instead of cowering like he had expected you to, you had just grabbed the man's arm, twisting it as far back as you could without breaking it, and kicked him down. Robin had swooped down, laughing as he handcuffed the man and complimented you on your punch. You both were waiting for the GCPD when your stomach grumbled and you offered to treat him to some waffles at the diner across the street since it had started snowing. After that, you both kept meeting up frequently at night, him on patrol and you going home after finishing whatever official school-related event you had.

And soon enough, those nights all added up to you and Robin meeting up frequently to eat at the same diner from the first time you had met. You liked your friendship with Robin. Even though you had no idea who he was under the mask, you felt comfortable with him, like he was your rock to help keep you grounded.

As you sat there and watched him fiddle with the menu, you resisted the urge to grab his hands and instead looked down at your own hands. You started picking at the skin on one of your still healing scabs from where a cat from the animal shelter you volunteered at had scratched you.

“You should stop that,” Robin was looking at you, his bottom lip stuck out slightly in what you recognized as worry.

“You’re my distraction,” you waved your hand at him, “so go on, distract me.”

“What do you want me to talk about,” he asked as he leaned back, letting Linda, the waitress, put your regular orders down on the table. After a chorus of ‘thank you’s, you sipped your hot chocolate and contemplated on what to ask him. There was so much you didn’t know about Robin, such as his identity, but you didn’t want to scare him away.

“What do you want to be when you grow up?”.

“Maybe a librarian,” he said after a long pause. You smiled at that and started stuffing your face with your hashbrowns, watching as Robin finished chewing his food.

“What about you, what do you want to be?”

You sat there, thinking. You never really knew what you wanted to be. Every year, you would have a new dream job but it never felt right to you. You just shrugged before turning the topic to books and different book recommendations, watching his eyes light up at the mention of literature.

“You should read Le Petit Prince,” you said as you both stood outside on the chilly November night. You had talked about different works by Shakespeare and had only started heading outside once Linda told you that it was ten. It was snowing slightly and Robin looked breathtaking with the white snow in his dark hair, his red mask creating a sharp contrast against the fairness of his skin.

“Only if you read it to me,” he said before grappling to the top of the veterinarian's office near the diner. You slowly walked to your car and turned it on. Robin was still sitting on the top of the building and as you pulled out of the parking lot, you waved goodbye to him before heading home, rolling your eyes with a smile when you realized that he was following you by running across the roofs of the buildings.

*****

“Hello, I’m (Y/N) (L/N), your tutor here at the Student Center. And you are?”

“Jason Todd,” the boy said, nodding at you as he pulled out his chair and sat down. You smiled at him and wrote his name down on the form you were given. You asked him basic questions about his grade, what class the assignment he wanted to go over was from, and what his reason was for visiting the center.

“All right, so it looks like Mr. Mijia wanted you to come in here and just have someone review your essay for you. Is he doing the extra credit padding before final exams again?”

Jason nodded his head and you marked the according box.

“Alright, the first thing I’m going to have you do is pull up an electronic copy and pass the hard copy to me. Then we’ll have you read it aloud so we can catch any grammatical errors.”

Jason nodded again before clearing his throat and reading his paper off of his screen, stumbling over the wording of his essay only twice. You were impressed, his style of writing was advanced, with him connecting his ideas throughout the whole essay.

“As time progresses, it is imperative to look--”

“Hey bestie,” you sighed when you heard the grating voice of Elsie Lager. You gave Jason an apologetic look before forcing a smile on your face as you faced Elsie.

“Hi Els, what are you doing here,” you asked, taking note of the way her eyes flitted over Jason, before landing on you.

“I’m just here to give you these,” she said, holding out a thick manilla folder. “Mrs. Jones said that we have to read through all of these proposals for the Spring Fling and Jackson and I thought that you could do it since you are the president. And because your mom is the famous torchbearer in today’s fashion world. It’ll just be soooo easy for you.”

You resisted the urge to smack Elsie with the manilla folder, aware of the fact that if you did that there was a witness, and instead took it from her hands before flipping through it. Great, there were over fifty concepts and designs to choose from. Taking out your planner, you wrote down ‘choose Spring Fling concept’ between your Taekwondo lesson and your animal fashion show at the shelter.

“I have that down, anything else I can do for you Elsie,” you asked with a strained smile. The brunette stood there, twisting a piece of hair around her pointer finger before smacking her forehead.

“OMG, I totally forgot! Callisto Barsotti told me that you should keep your ears open for an invite to one of his parties. I’ve gotta go now but you just have to tell me how you got Callisto to notice you, you lucky bitch.”

You watched as Elsie left the library, blowing a kiss towards you, in a blur of white. Sighing, you turned back around to Jason.

“I’m so sorry about the interruption. Why don’t you continue reading from where you were interrupted.”

“She’s a bitch,” Jason said. Your eyes widened in surprise and you watched as he leaned towards you, resting his face on his hand. “Why are you friends with people that take advantage of you like that?”

You sucked in your breath, keeping your face impassive as you stared down at him.

“You have no idea what my life is like Jason Todd,” you said evenly, setting the manilla folder to the side. “And because you don’t know me, why don’t we talk about something we do have some knowledge about: your essay.”

Jason just sighed before he started packing his items up, tugging the hard copy of his essay out from under your hands.

“You and I both know that I don’t need help with my essay. But if you ever need help, let me know,” and with a familiar wave, he left you sitting in the library, confused about how you had gotten his attention when you both weren’t even in the same grade.

*****

You scanned the room as you tugged your jacket around you. You normally didn’t attend parties, especially those that you knew involved alcohol, but your mother had pushed you to go after being nagged by Elsie’s mother by her daughter’s lack of invitation. And speaking of Elsie, she had left you alone as soon as she had entered the house. Which sucked since she had insisted on driving in her new Mercedes.

As you walked around the living room, making small talk with the people who greeted you, you couldn’t help but think about what Jason Todd had told you. It frustrated you that he took up so much space in your head, that he was all that you could think of since that day in the library.

He didn’t know anything about your life. While he had grown up on the streets, you had grown up with a silver spoon in your mouth, never having to worry about anything.

‘But you do worry,’ the small voice in your head said, sounding very similar to Robin. You needed a drink.

You were searching the coolers for a bottle of water when a heavy arm wrapped around your shoulders causing you to flinch and elbow them in the stomach.

“Ow, what was that for,” the person asked, slurring their words slightly. You looked up and sighed when you saw it was the host of the party, Callisto Barsotti. He smiled at you and rubbed at his stomach before holding his arms out, “I’ll let you go if you give me a hug,” he said, enunciating his words with grabby motions.

Normally, you would be on your best behavior, helping whoever was drunk by getting them water and calling their friends, but you were pissed. You didn’t want to be at this party, instead, your mother had forced you to go after Mrs. Lager had bitched to your mom about her precious Elsie not being invited. And to make matters worse, you were tired. So tired.

You were tired of your mother, for filling up your schedule with things you had no interest in, such as modeling gigs and piano lessons. Your father for never being there. Elsie for complaining to her mom and Callisto for inviting you to his stupid party. Jason Todd for being in your head for over a month. Robin for not reaching out in weeks. But mostly at yourself. You were upset at yourself for quietly taking all of this and then loading yourself up with more so you could be the perfect doll for your mother to brag about raising.

So when Callisto tried to grab you and hug you, you kneed him in the groin before deciding to walk home. Ignoring his cries and the looks you got from others at the party, you ran out of the house, only pausing to take a breath once you exited the gated property. You didn’t know where you wanted to go so you let your legs decide on what direction to walk.

Walking around anywhere in the middle of the night was not a great idea. But walking around Gotham in the middle of the night was one of the worst ideas anyone could have. Looking back at it, your night could have gotten worse, like you being kidnapped by a c-grade villain or something.

Instead, you ended up running into Robin. He didn’t look surprised to see you and instead gave you a small smile.

“So, do you wanna go to the diner,” he asked, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly.

“No,” you snapped, “Leave me the fuck alone birdbrain.” You pushed past him, a look of surprise etched on his face.

“(Y/N)! Wait!”

You ignored his calls and instead sped up, aware of the fact that he was catching up to you. At this point, you were walking near the actual city parts of Gotham so maybe you could get a cab to drop you off at your mother’s apartment near the business sector.

At that thought, you broke into a run, sprinting down the street before calling a cab, hyper-aware of the fact that Robin was staring at you with a look of hurt and confusion on his face.

*****

You felt bad for how you treated Robin. He didn’t deserve your cold shoulder and you certainly didn’t deserve him. With his witty jokes and the way he always followed you to make sure you got home alright, you had realized yesterday in the cab, watching the red and yellow of his costume jump by on the roof, that you didn’t deserve him.

You threw yourself back into your different activities and soon, you didn’t even have enough time to even think about what you were going to eat for dinner.

As you exited the school building, you walked slowly towards your car, being careful not to slip on the ice on the ground as you rounded the corner.

But you felt someone grab your wrist, making you scream and fall. The person cursed as they tried to pull you up but you slid as far away as you could from them so you could see their face. It was Callisto Barsotti.

“What the fuck,” you yelled, trying to yank your wrist out of his iron-like grip. When that didn’t work you got ready to elbow him but he twisted your other arm behind you, causing you to scream.

“Not today you bastard,” he growled as he started to drag you. You screamed and tugged against him, and when he turned towards you, you stopped pulling against him and stomped on his foot, making sure to drag your snow boots against the skin on his shin.

Callisto let out a cry of pain and you pushed him away from you, letting yourself fall to the ground out of shock.

“You little gremlin,” Callisto stuttered out as he started limping towards you. You panicked as you tried to find something heavy to hit him with. A rock or anything would do. But you couldn’t find anything so you got up on trembling legs to run towards your car.

But you didn’t have to worry as a figure in red and yellow dropped by and wacked Callisto in the back of the head. Your eyes widened as Robin took this moment to start kicking the fallen boy. You don’t know how long you stared at him, but you snapped out of your daze once you started hearing cracking noises.

“Stop! Robin, please stop,” you cried desperately. But he didn’t stop, he continued to beat Callisto.

“Please stop,” you cried, whimpering as you knelt down near Robin. When he didn’t listen to you again, you leaned forward and grabbed his face, turning it towards you. You were going to tell him to stop again but you then felt a warm sensation, different from the coldness from the March air, followed by the feeling of a shock. Your soulmate, Robin was your soulmate.

He stared at you in shock, allowing you to pull him off of Callisto. You pushed him towards your car, and he stumbled since he was still staring at you as a look of understanding passed on his face.

“Look,” you said, inspecting the blood on Robin’s costume, “you need to listen to what I’m going to say carefully. Go to my car and grab the cleaning wipes from the trunk. Clean yourself off as I call the cops. The story is going to be that you were patrolling the area and heard my screams.”

Robin stared at you, mouth slightly open as he reached to touch you with a bare hand. You let his fingers ghost against your skin, the shock from before still present as you pulled back to stare at him.

“Go.”

*****

It's been over five hours since Robin beat Callisto. Not half to death like you had expected but still pretty bad since he had a broken nose, arm, and bruised ribs. As you waited in the police station for your parents to pick you up (“The gang that you described could always come back for you,” the officer had said), you could only think about how scary it was, watching Robin hit someone so many times with so much anger in him. In the end, your parents didn’t come and instead, your older brother had driven all the way from Metropolis to pick you up.

You both didn’t talk to each other during the ride back to your house but you could tell he was worried by the way his eyes would flicker to you. When you reached the gates to your house, your brother had parked the car and turned to look at you.

‘(Y/N), I have no idea what's going on with you right now but if you ever feel overwhelmed or alone, just tell me and I’ll take you with me back to Gran’s in Metropolis.”

You smiled at him, eyes tired but filled with a small spark as you exited his car, making sure to express your thanks with a kiss on his cheek. As you entered your house, you took off your shoes and slipped on your home slippers before going to your room and taking a shower. Drying your hair, you walked towards your windows to close your curtains, letting out a slight scream when you saw a hand pressed against the glass.

You sighed when you saw it was Robin and opened your window, letting him come inside to your room. He looked around your room, studying the many medals and certificates you had accumulated from the years along with the magazines you had in your room, before turning towards you.

“Hey,” you said, walking to him slowly. Robin licked his lips slightly as he stared at you before coughing.

“Can I please touch you,” he asked, his voice breaking slightly. You nodded and watched as he took off his right glove before caressing your cheek with his hand. You watched as he smiled when he felt the same spark from before, a breathless laugh escaping his lips as he took off his left glove so he could hold you with both hands. You shivered as his thumb ghosted over your bottom lip, eyes closing before snapping open when you couldn’t feel the warmth from Robin’s hands.

“Don’t freak out,” he whispered in your ear, “I’m just going to close the window and then dry your hair for you. Just go and sit down and I’ll be right there.”

You nodded and sat down at the chair in front of your vanity, watching as he closed your window and pulled the curtains before grabbing your towel. You smiled as you watched him in the mirror, massaging your head with your hands before wrapping your towel around your scalp.

“How come you never asked me what my name was,” Robin asked as he brushed through your hair.

“You’ll tell me when the time is right.”

*****

“I should’ve asked him what his name was,” you thought as you walked near an alley, waiting for a sign of Batman so you could ask him what happened to your soulmate.

A couple of months had passed since you had last seen Robin in April. He had looked angry when you both had met up at the diner and he had further worried you when he ignored the ringing of his phone. As soon as he had seen that you were tucked into bed, he had given you a peck on the forehead before leaving through your window.

You were worried for him. Dressing up as a traffic light every night was dangerous, no matter how much you loved going out there and beating up criminals. So you had been following Batman for months, trying to find a moment to ask him what happened to your soulmate. But you never had the opportunity since he always managed to lose you by either disappearing or by just leading you into a dead end.

Months of following Batman has helped you as you were now familiar with the rooftops of Gotham, like the roof of the veterinarian’s office near the diner you and Robin used to meet up at. Sitting with binoculars, you let out a small gasp when you saw a familiar flash of red and yellow, watching as it ran across a rooftop. Scrambling, you started following the figure, zigzagging around multiple large gaps that you couldn’t jump before cursing when you realized that he was gone.

“Why are you following me,” an unfamiliar voice asked behind you. You turned around and assessed the boy, taking note of the fact that he was taller than your Robin and didn’t seem to have the same half-smile-half-smirk that he did. But the only way to confirm, for your brain to tell your heart to stop searching would be direct contact.

“I can’t find someone,” you started, voice shaky as your eyes filled with tears. The boy’s mouth twisted in a slight frown but he still let you continue.

“I just need to check that you’re not my Robin. Please, let me just hold your hand briefly or something. I just need to know.”

At this point, you were crying. When he hadn’t returned the next day, you had started to panic, wondering if he had really left you and gone somewhere else. But that night, you had started out of your bed, wondering what had woken you up when you felt a hollowness inside of you.

The boy patted your shoulder sympathetically before offering his hand to you. Sniffling, you pulled his glove down slightly so his wrist was showing and touched it.

There were no sparks, no warmth, as you collapsed on the rooftop and cried.

Your Robin was no more.

*****

You smiled as you entered the diner, waving at Linda before taking the booth that you and Robin used to eat at. Six years had passed since you had learned that he was no more and even though it was hard most of the time, you always moved forward. You had graduated high school and gone forward to become a librarian, your choice mostly influenced by your late soulmate.

As you waited for Linda to bring out your regular order, you looked around the diner, recognizing everyone except for a man wearing a red sweatshirt. He was staring down at his phone but was now looking up at you when he felt your stare. You flushed slightly and gave him a wave before looking out of the window.

When Linda came out with your packed regular, you left after giving her a large tip. You had to go back to work.

*****

When Jason came back to life, he knew something was wrong.

After finding out that you were his soulmate, he felt this familiar warmth inside of him, similar to the feeling from when Bruce had first made him Robin. But after the pit, that feeling was multiplied tenfold, to the point that it felt like he was being burned from the inside out. And then the random sparks started.

The first time was when he was with Talia. It had been months since she had started training him, helping him remember a bit of who he was beforehand. When she grabbed his wrist, he felt a spark. It wasn’t the same familiar, welcomed spark with you but it was still a spark. He had brushed it off as static electricity, especially since Talia didn’t seem to have noticed.

But the sparks continued. He felt it frequently when people would hold him, touch him, brush against him. It was an annoyance at that point. A reminder that something was wrong with him, especially since he knew that you were his soulmate and that the others seemed to have not noticed the sparks.

So when Jason saw you walking home one night, he couldn’t help but follow you to make sure you got back safe, just like in the old days. Except for the fact that it’s not like the old days and he was malfunctioning. He was too scared to meet you; he was terrified of the idea that he might touch you and that there would be no spark anymore.

Jason had decided to only follow you home and keep you safe from the shadows, to never interact with you directly. So why exactly was he bleeding on your couch?

He watched as you helped him out of his leather jacket, eyes following your movements to the best of his abilities. He then watched as you pulled out a pair of scissors and started cutting the area he was shot.

Your eyebrows were furrowed and Jason couldn’t help but want to reach out and smooth them. Instead, he settled for helping you by peeling the square of his cut shirt away as you prepared the gauze to apply pressure.

His head was spinning and his breathing sounded labored even to his own ears but Jason didn’t want to take off his helmet in fear that you would recognize him from the red domino. But you seemed to have other plans as you reached your hands towards his head, still applying pressure to his wound with your knee.

He tried to avoid your hands but it was difficult to do when his head started to spin. He just watched as your hands reached out towards his helmet and opened it.

A small, selfish part of him wanted you to pull off the helmet and accept him, regardless of whether or not the spark was still there. But from the two years that he had known you, he knew that you’d accept him as Robin, but he wasn’t sure that you’d accept him as Red Hood.

Jason watched as your eyes widened at the sight of his red domino but you didn’t go as far as to peel it off. Instead, you turned your attention back to his wound, gathering more gauze to apply pressure.

As he lost consciousness, he watched as your concerned face entered his vision. And then he felt the fated spark, and all he could think about was how right it felt.

*****

When Jason woke up, he was surprised. By multiple things. For one, you hadn’t called the cops on him. The second thing being the fact that he was, in fact, fine and not dead: he had checked by pinching himself. The third was that his domino was still on his face. And the last being that he could hear your voice clearly, it was distinct, like music against his ears.

He listened as you spoke, not understanding what you were saying but knowing that you were reading Le Petit Prince. After all, one of the first things he did after coming back from the pit was listening to the audiobook, imagining what you would sound like.

He heard the page flip and decided that now would be a good time to open his eyes and sit up.

His sudden movement startled you. You both stared at each other before Jason croaked out a ‘hi’. He watched as your eyes filled with tears as you hugged Jason gently like he was the most delicate, expensive thing in the world.

“I missed you (Y/N),” Jason whispered against your shoulder, feeling the tears form in his eyes as he pulled back.

Your eyes flitted down to his wound with a concerned look but he tilted your head up, towards his face as he pulled the domino off.

He saw a look of recognition in your eyes, knowing for sure that they recognized him when you whispered ‘Jason Todd.’

He nodded, watching as you slowly extended your hands towards his face, caressing it as you skimmed your thumbs over his cheekbones.

“I’m a terrible person,” Jason whispered, looking down into his lap. You simply lifted his face, shaking your head.

“You’re not a terrible person Jason. You were a hero back when you were Robin and you’re a hero as the Red Hood. You’ve always been one. Now lie back down before you pull your stitches and tell me what you’ve been up to.”

Jason smiled as he laid his head across your lap, smiling as the sparks now seemed to dance across his skin in joy, happy that he was finally home.

#robin #red hood #robin jason #robin jason todd #jason todd #jason todd oneshot #jason todd x reader #jason todd x reader imagines #jason todd x reader imagine #jason todd x you #jason todd x y/n #jason todd imagines #jason todd imagine #dc imagine #dc imagines #ariadne writes #ariadne does her best to write

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imagining-in-the-margins · 4 years

Text

Here to Misbehave (Pt. 18 | S.R.)

Summary: Reader finds more productive ways to spend her time, including babysitting Henry and volunteering at the local inpatient hospitals.

A/N: That’s my gif so please give credit if you use it 🤗 Couple: Spencer Reid/Fem!Reader   Category: Smut (NSFW, 18+) Content Warning: Oral (female receiving), addiction, relapse, discussions of death/murder, unsub talk, hospitals, inpatient ward Word Count: 13K

MASTERLIST

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The next morning felt strangely similar to the morning of the day we’d gone to the bank. . Waking up in Spencer’s bed and smelling the unmistakable, comforting scent of old book pages and stale coffee. I’d told him when I first came to his place that it reminded me of a library, but it was more like that quiet local hole-in-the-wall bookshop.

It almost felt like that morning, but there was one glaring difference: Spencer wasn’t in the bed.

When I sat up to try and locate him, I was reminded that there are consequences to my actions. My stomach hurt like shit, and I swore I blacked out for a second from the pain. It would pass, though. Considering I had gotten through the night without waking, it clearly wasn’t that bad.

I thankfully managed to get out of bed myself and take the pain medication I kept in my purse. And armed with the knowledge that the pain would subside within the next half hour, I hobbled toward the distant sounds of… vomiting.

Not even bothering to stop yet, I made my way to the kitchen to grab the poor guy a glass of water. It was the least I could do for his comfort considering that I was about to make his headache much, much worse.

Peeking my head through the open door, I frowned at the sight of my boyfriend half asleep on the toilet.

“Hey old man. I brought you some water.”

Finally looking up, not having noticed me until I spoke, Spencer groaned as he backed up to lean against the wall instead of the dirty porcelain. “God, when did I get this old?”

“Hmm. I’m guessing sometime in the past 30 years.” I hummed, joining him on the cold tile floor. The two of us just rested there, his hand reaching out to take mine with a solemn smile.

“You’re cute.” He mumbled.

“I know, thanks.” I joked back, knowing that I really looked like a whole mess, with my hair desperately needing to be brushed. He never seemed to mind, though. I was glad for the lighthearted domesticity of the moment, because I knew I was about to shatter it like a brick through glass.

Softening my features as much as possible with the anxiety coursing through my veins, I squeezed his hand before finally whispering, “You know your age isn’t the only reason you’re sick though, right?”

“I don’t want to talk about it.” He snapped back with about as much hostility as I was expecting. He ran a frustrated hand over his face, his breathing picking up almost immediately as he tried to calm himself down.

“I know you’re just trying to do what you’re supposed to, but please…” The waver in his voice broke my heart and turned my stomach to knots. With more force, he held his hand in the air and continued to stare straight ahead. “Just... don’t. I’ll call my sponsor.”

I tried to keep my voice quiet and nonthreatening as I pushed, but I knew that it wasn’t going to make much of a difference either way.

“We have to talk about it, too, Spencer.”

“No, we really don’t.”

“You’re going to get your chip taken away,” my voice broke in half as the word fell from my mouth, “I know that that’s important to you. We can’t ignore it.”

Speaking faster, our urgent pleas overlapped to create a small cacophony booming through the acoustics of the bathroom. “(Y/n), seriously, stop. You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

A silence fell between us, and I let it sit there for a minute. I wouldn’t get anywhere with him if he was defensive, and that’s exactly what he was at the moment. But I wasn’t trying to chastise him; I’m not his mother, I’m just his worried girlfriend. I loved him and I knew something was wrong, and I just wanted to help.

I didn’t know how. The men I loved never made it far enough for me to be able to help.

“You didn’t even tell me you were coming home. We need to talk about that, at least.” I offered the narrowed scope, hoping that he would take it without any more of a fight.

He didn’t. Instead, he took back his hand and turned it to a fist in his lap. That time it was my breathing that became unsteady, and I tried to touch him, but he recoiled when I came too close.

“You didn’t seem to mind me being drunk last night.”

Although I knew it was coming, the words hurt just the same. I resisted the urge to mirror his actions. I wasn’t angry. I wouldn’t be angry, because that’s what he wanted. If I reacted that way, he could write off my responses.

“I’m not going to agitate you or shame you when the damage is already done, Spencer.” I said as confidently as I could, “I knew you needed affection and you weren’t going to ask for it yourself.”

He finally looked at me again, and in doing so, realized he was making a mistake. The anger melted from his face within seconds, being replaced with overt sadness and guilt. “I could have hurt you.” He whispered through the tears that started to fall.

“But you didn’t.” I said with a gentle smile, reaching over to wipe the saltwater from his cheek. “That’s not a very good excuse anymore.”

“It’s always a good explanation.” He clarified, chewing on his bottom lip. His hands released from their tense state.

My fingers couldn’t move fast enough to clear his tears, but he brought his own hands up to rub the tired eyes. I used the freedom to run my hands through his hair, pulling him closer to me.

Resting his head against my shoulder, he let out a deep, shaky breath. I continued slow, soft strokes along his arm, listening to the rhythm of his breath slowly recalibrate. Once I was satisfied with the pattern, I tried again.

“What happened on the case, Spencer?”

The tension returned, but subsided quicker than it had before. He took a deep breath and spoke through the exhale, trying to rid himself of the thought as he said it.

“We had to kill someone.”

My movements paused for a second before I reminded myself to continue, but my confusion remained. “I understand trauma is complicated but… You guys have to do that pretty often.”

Spencer wasn’t the kind of person who liked to share his thoughts. I knew as much; even his coworkers hadn’t seen the parts of him that I’d seen. There was no way for me to know if I knew them all, but I figured that I didn’t. I was almost certain there was a side of Spencer Reid that even I didn’t know. The only reason I didn’t try to figure it out was because I knew he liked it better that way. He designed his heart that way for a reason, and I wasn’t going to try and pry it out of him.

But he was scaring me. He almost never talked about his job, which didn’t bother me when it was obvious that he didn’t bring it home with him. Him getting drunk and defensive, though, were very different circumstances than the usual.

Understanding that there was no other way out of this, he continued to talk, hushed and slow. “I was alone with the guy, and I had the opportunity to kill him, but I didn’t. I didn’t kill him, even though I really wanted to.”

‘I really wanted to.’ The words stuck out in my head, no matter how quickly he tried to bury them.

“But after Hotch showed up, he had to do it. We didn’t have a choice anymore.” His arms crossed over his chest, but he pressed himself harder against me in a strange, contradictory stance.

I couldn’t respond to the most important part of his confession just yet; I knew the story wasn’t over. Like I’d told him, trauma and grief are complicated; however, there was something else he needed to admit before I could address the part of his admission he seemed most affected by.. “Spencer, that’s okay. That’s not your fault.” I reassured, trying to coax his arms away from his chest. I’m no profiler, but I felt like if he stopped trying to build walls, things might be easier. I could at least try to break down the ones that were tangible.

“I’m not worried about it being my fault. I’m worried about how… angry I am.” He said in defeat, dropping his arms back to his lap. He still didn’t want to touch me, it seemed. Like the same hands that had wielded a gun against a man were too tainted to share.

“I’m angry because… I wanted to kill him, I wanted him to suffer for hurting innocent people and —“ He covered his mouth, and I think the motion surprised himself.

I couldn’t help but feel partially responsible, no matter how illogical I knew that was. It felt like yet another morning was being taken away from us by what had happened before. I didn’t want to think about it; I didn’t want it to torture Spencer the way it did me. It was wishful thinking, and the stupid kind, at that.

Spencer would always blame himself and care too much. While he was always trying to work on the former, I hoped that the world would let him keep the latter. His compassion was one of the many reasons I fell in love with him. The thought of losing the man who felt the need to confess to me that he’d lied about checking me out in a crowded club invoked a sadness I never wanted to experience.

Although, the prospect of that loss paled in comparison to the acute sorrow I was feeling right then, holding Spencer while he failed to hold back tears, choking on his words. “I didn’t do it, and then he almost hurt someone else.” He said, his voice growing more frantic as he broke from my hold, grabbing his hair and pulling it like it would do something to stop the thoughts.

“And I’m angry that I wasn’t the one who got to do it. I wasn’t the person who got to kill him.” He spat, rocking forward as I tried to wrap my arms around him again. He didn’t let me, putting an arm out to hold me away from him. Still, he looked at me when he forced himself to say the conclusion that I’d reached the second he told me he had wanted to kill someone.

“I’m angry that I didn’t kill someone, (y/n).”

There were so many things I wanted to say to him that my mind literally couldn’t pick any of them. All I could do was stare at the man I loved, stopping me from doing the only thing I wanted to do. I just wanted to hold him; to remind him that I would love him no matter what. Just like we always did, I wanted my body to express the things that my mouth wouldn’t articulate.

But apparently, I was capable of doing that without even touching him. Because the longer we sat in silence, the more his enraged grimace warped to a frown. “Please, don’t look at me like that.” He begged, unable to take his eyes off of mine. I wondered if he could hear my thoughts, because before I even spoke, he pulled his arm back. “Don’t look at me like I deserve sympathy for that.”

Ignoring the pesky numbness forming in my lower half at the awkward position on the unforgiving tile floor, I thanked the lord that I was finally getting some relief from the narcotics, which allowed me to climb on Spencer’s lap. He’d finally ceased his valiant efforts to keep me away from him, accepting me with his hands on my hips.

When I tried to kiss him, however, he turned his face away with a sharp inhale. Careful not to use too much force, I use a tender hand on his cheek to lead him back to me. His eyes bounced between my lips and eyes, almost like he was asking me to try again.

“I’m not going to pretend you’re a monster to make you feel better, Spencer.” I whispered, attempting to infuse the words with everything I felt.

Whether it worked or not, I could never be sure, but Spencer’s small smile sneaking over his cheek was enough for me. “I’m pretty sure it’d make me feel worse.” He croaked, laughing as he bit his tongue to stop any other jokes from slipping out. Like he was betraying the pain by letting it go.

“Well I’m not going to do that, either.” I returned with a laugh. Then, satisfied that he would accept my affections, I closed the gap between us. The kiss was so soft I could almost question whether our lips touched. But his hands slid over my lower back, his arms wrapping around me and pulling me against him.

Eventually, it became obvious just how tired the both of us were. With a quiet thanks, he rested his face on my shoulder, enjoying the calm after the storm of his feelings that he’d finally released.

“Can you come back to bed?” I asked.

“Yeah.” He mumbled, holding tighter for a second before he started to help ease me off his lap. “Let’s go, little girl.”

The return to my nickname made me happier than I’d like to admit. At this point, the use of my real name was like a litmus test for his anxiety. And although I could feel Spencer slowly opening back up to me, he still felt so far away when we crawled under the covers.

Turning on my side to face him, I saw something in his eyes that alerted me to just how deeply rooted this problem was. It wasn’t just the event we’d discussed; it was the knowledge that there would be many more like it in the future.

I wondered what Spencer saw when he looked at me. Did he see me like I was in that moment, or was I always going to look like I had before, choking on blood and a confession I wish I could have made more beautiful? Did he see me at all? Or did he just see all the mistakes he’d made? Would all our moments together be marred by the overwhelming tragedy of a single one? More than anything, I just hoped that he didn’t see the faces of the people who had caused us to be in that horrible tableau. I needed Spencer to see beautiful things when he looked at me, because I needed to see them in his eyes. If something so ugly was the biggest thing between us, our relationship would fray with time, each of us unable to truly see the other.

“You’re the best man I’ve ever known.” I said into the silent early morning air of his apartment.

As expected, Spencer’s precarious smile broke almost immediately, replaced with violent sobs and an attempt to hide his face from me by burying it in my chest. I let him, wrapping my arms around his head in the hope that I could act like a shield for the world that never let him rest.

“I’ll love you forever,” I let my voice break, but I didn’t let that stop me. “And nothing will ever change that.”

—————————————————

One of the things people never warn you about when you’re dating a bona fide genius is that there is no such thing as a surprise. It was like every time I came up with an idea, Spencer could see it on my face within seconds. I was never really sure how he did it, although he usually had the decency to wait until a normal person would have figured it out to say something. For example, when we were about three streets away from his best friend’s house.

“Why are we going to JJ’s house?” He finally asked, turning to me with a confused but excited expression that almost hid the residual negative feelings that insisted on sticking around a week later.

I glanced over at him, laughing at the way his fingers bounced on his lap. He never was subtle with his emotions. “I may or may not have offered us up as babysitters so she and Will could have a much needed date night.”

From the way his shoulders dropped, I could tell it wasn’t the answer he’d been expecting. Still, it didn’t seem like he was disappointed— he was simply trying to read my motivations that were seemingly counter-intuitive.

“Really? Isn’t that gonna be a lot for you?” The concern was evident in his voice, which I found both endearing and a little annoying. It wasn’t this fault, really. I was just so freaking tired of not being able to do basically anything I wanted to. Especially when the thing I wanted to do was watch my boyfriend and his godson.

“Henry may be well behaved, but he’s still a toddler.” Spencer continued, eliciting a deep sigh from me.

“That’s why you’re here.” I half-joked, pulling into the driveway that was starting to feel familiar. If someone had told me a few months ago that I would become friends with the woman I was angrily binge watching clips of on YouTube, I would have asked them if they had me confused for another girl. But, much to Spencer’s delight, JJ and I never really had that awkward phase. From the second that I met her, I knew that we just wanted the same thing: above all, for the people we loved to be happy. And it seemed we both had a soft spot for the man currently in my passenger seat.

“Oh, running after the kid is my job?” He laughed, already unbuckling his seatbelt and pulling his bag onto his lap in his excitement.

“Yep.” I stuck out my tongue at him, which only made him lean over in an attempt to steal a kiss. I allowed it, if only to bring him within arm’s reach. When he started to pull away, clearly ready to hop out of the car and run to his favorite toddler, I grabbed a fistful of his cardigan in an attempt to keep him closer for a second longer.

“But seriously, Spencer, I…”

He settled into his seat, immediately recognizing the faint tremor in my words. His hand came to rest over mine, and I sighed at the warmth that filled my whole body in seconds.

“I want you to remember that you’re a good person.” I whispered, trying to let him feel how deeply I meant the words, “I know how much you love Henry. I think spending time taking care of someone that’s… not me… will be good for you. And me.”

Those big brown eyes glassed over, glancing down and then away from me as he remembered looking at my stomach didn’t ever do much for his self-hatred. Which, in turn, just made me feel worse. I wondered if there would ever be a day where he could look at me and not feel that way. I desperately hoped that there would be.

Spencer rubbed his eyes to stop any other emotions from spilling out. “Does JJ know we’re using her kid as therapy?” He joked between sniffles.

“She’s a smart lady.” I shrugged, smoothing out the now wrinkled cardigan beneath my fingers. “Besides, Henry said he missed you and it’s hard to say no to him.”

And just like that, Spencer’s bouncing returned, his hand reaching behind him to open the door before he could even open his mouth to speak. “Yeah, we probably shouldn’t keep him waiting, then.”

There was no stopping him at that point, and I trailed along behind him, watching as Henry tumbled out of the front door and straight into my boyfriend’s waiting arms on the porch.

The rest of the night went a lot like that, too. Once the novelty of having me there wore off, and Henry realized that my boo-boo made it hard for me to play the way little boys liked to, Spencer returned to his rightful place as Henry’s favorite babysitter.

I didn’t mind; I was perfectly content watching the two of them. Between the cheesy magic tricks that required a little bit of childlike innocence to be entertained by and Spencer’s attempts to follow along with Henry’s excited rants about cartoons my boyfriend had never even heard of, I somehow fell even more in love with the man.

And even though I had planned this for him, it was restorative for me, too. There was this weird, paradoxical guilt you feel when you’re dating someone like him. Although I know that he wanted to spend every waking second of his free time with me, it made me feel like he was missing out on something else. Something better than me.

It was so easy to forget that we could do those things together. In a way, I could thank my injury for that. When we were limited so much on what we could do together, we had to find creative ways to spend time together that were still stimulating for the both of us.

That being said, in that moment I wished for nothing more than rest. Even just watching the two boys together was exhausting, so when Henry’s first yawn sounded, I jumped at the opportunity. Because, see, Spencer was good at the playing, but I was much better at the cuddling.

It wasn’t like he could argue, either, because while Henry curled up next to me on one side, Spencer was on the other, his arm reaching around to rest on the young boy’s back. Despite picking out the movie, Henry fell asleep against my chest within minutes.

And in the quiet calmness of JJ’s house, I found myself almost falling asleep, too. My head rested against Spencer’s shoulder, moving ever so slightly with each deep breath as my eyes struggled to stay open. That was when Spencer kissed the top of my head so delicately that I almost didn’t feel it.

“I love you, little girl.”

My heart skipped a beat at the sound, and the wave of goosebumps and satisfaction covered me like a blanket. If we’d stayed for even a few minutes longer, I would have fallen asleep right there. However, JJ and Will arrived home just in the nick of time. They tried to convince us to stay, but Spencer seemed uncharacteristically excited to leave, so I didn’t question it even though I wanted to. I took the trip home to catch up on my phone and try to wake myself up enough to spend another hour or so awake with him before I passed out.

“Don’t fall asleep yet.”

I perked up in my seat, not entirely sure if he’d actually said the words, or if I’d just imagined them a little too vividly. But when he glanced over at me, I knew that he was just doing that slightly unsettling thing where he read my thoughts.

“Why? You got plans?” I said through a yawn, trying to stretch within the confines of the car.

“As a matter of fact, I do have plans.”

At first, I thought nothing of the smug way he said it— up until I felt his hand slowly slide up my thigh, the pressure of his fingers increasing when he couldn’t go any further.

“This feels familiar.” I chuckled, my mind transporting me back to our first not-a-date. The sensations caused a desire to burn through me so quickly I became lightheaded, my lungs hungry and desperate as Spencer continued to tease me by avoiding the one place he knew I wanted him to touch.

But, of course, just as I reached down to move his hand, he pulled it away altogether.

“Lucky for you, we’re almost home.”

I audibly groaned, knocking my head back against the seat now that Spencer had succeeded in waking me up. “Sometimes, Spencer…” I mumbled, “I remember why I have to be such a fucking brat.”

“It’s my fault, is it?”

There was a distinct darkness and deviancy in his words, despite the joking cadence they were uttered in. It was a voice I hadn’t heard in some time; a voice that was imprinted so vividly in my memory that even just the thought of it would make me putty in his hands. And I knew that I was reminiscing a lot, trying to relive times that had long since passed, but every time I saw a part of the old Spencer — the Spencer who rambled in museums and demanded I cover up my Lolita costume — the more I felt like my life was finally returning to normal.

“Of course it’s your fault. Have you seen me?” I gestured to myself, swamped in a sweatshirt and shorts like a weather-confused idiot. If the clashing clothing wasn’t enough, my make up had smeared from constantly rubbing my eyes. “I’m an angel.” I concluded, intending it to be sarcastic but knowing that he really saw me that way.

And sure enough, Spencer looked me over for just one second before pulling into the parking lot to his apartment complex. “You’re spoiled.” He decided.

“Doesn’t feel that way right now.” I whined, chewing on my bottom lip as I continued to wait for his attention.

But he just parked my car, leaning over to grab his bag from between my legs. Before it got too far, though, I clamped my legs around the leather. “Stop ignoring me!” I said through a pout, only getting more heated as he chuckled in response, tugging on the satchel until it slid from between my legs.

Finally, after what felt like forever, Spencer’s eyes locked with mine, his other hand grabbing my chin and forcing my bottom lip out from between my teeth. He held my mouth open against my resistance, but as soon as I gave into his hold, he relaxed his grip, leaning forward and pressing a much-too-soft kiss against my lips.

Without even fully breaking away, he turned my head to the side to whisper in my ear, “Get inside and I’ll make it up to you.”

Life was returning to normal. Together we excitedly stumbled through the Langham apartment complex until we got to his door, and he fumbled to unlock it without letting me go.

Everything about the chaos felt comfortable and predictable. I didn’t even notice the dull throbbing in my stomach because Spencer’s hands felt like home. The insistent noise of all my messy insecurities was quieted by his lips trailing down my jaw and neck as we finally crossed the threshold.

“Watching you with Henry, I just...” Spencer began to mumble against my neck, our bodies gravitating toward his room with a complete lack of grace, considering how well I should know the layout by now. We made it to the door, but not his bed, as he pressed me against the wall right on the other side.

His lips were slightly swollen from how feverishly he’d kissed me, his breathing ragged and his hair wild from where my hands had raked through it a few too many times. But his eyes were what really caught my attention, staring into me so deeply that it caused a shiver to roll down my spine. Spencer sensed my hesitance, because he brought a gentle hand to my face before he spoke, quietly but surely.

“I want to marry you one day. You know that, right?”

I thought about before; how those words would have filled me with both a naive joy and overwhelming anxiety. But as I stood there, staring back at him, I felt a genuine smile spreading across my lips.

“We speak in a lot of ‘one days,’ Dr. Reid.”

I couldn’t tell the effect the words had on him, although I had a few guesses. I’d avoided the part of the sentence he’d meant for me to hear the loudest. We both knew I’d heard it. At the same time, I hadn’t denied the idea or given any reason to suggest I wasn’t happy about the statement.

“I’m serious.” He insisted, not ready to drop the subject just yet.

Unfortunately for him, though, I had other plans. As much as the talk of marriage gave me butterflies, there were more immediate needs I wanted him to fulfill. So, without saying anything, I subtly suggested that he put off the conversation and switch to other activities with a firm hand against the bulge that had already formed in his pants.

“God, I want to fuck you.” He immediately groaned, his head lolling forward and resting against mine. I figured that it would be harder to convince him to fuck me now that he wasn’t drunk, but he seemed even more willing now that we’d already made the leap of faith once. Nothing bad had happened to me then, and the dramatic improvement of my mood was helpful for both of us.

So I began to slide down the wall, my hands raking down his chest as I giggled, “Let me help you.”

Spencer’s hands moved so quickly and with such strength that it surprised the both of us. Luckily, he’d grabbed my hips instead of my stomach, halting me before I could drop to my knees.

“No.” He firmly corrected, lifting me back to my normal height before turning the two of us around so that my back was to the bed. “It’s my turn.”

Much gentler now, he helped lower me onto the bed, but he didn’t follow me yet.

“Take off your clothes.” He instructed me as he removed his own.

I listened, watching him intently to try and determine his plans before he actually got to me. But he kept his expressions to a minimum, only giving away his enthusiasm in watching me sheepishly remove my clothing. My shirt was still on when he climbed onto the bed and over my body.

“I want to see you.” There was something pitiful about the way he uttered the words, and my hands hesitated, holding tightly to the hem of my shirt as I avoided his eyes.

“You have an eidetic memory, Spencer. You know what it looks like.”

“I’ll never stop wanting to see you. You’re so beautiful, (y/n).” He used my name, and my body reacted just as quickly as he realized his mistake. Grabbing my arms before I could close them over me, he brought my wrists against the bed beside my head. “You can leave it on for now.”

What he said provided me all the context I needed to know what he was planning, and I locked my legs around him, hoping that I could stall him for a few moments.

“Please, Spencer. Please fuck me.” I begged, arching my back and baring my neck to him, knowing that he could see my erratic pulse in my neck.

“I can’t. Not yet.” His voice was strained, one hand raised so that his fingers could brush over my neck. “It won’t be much longer.”

Frustrated by his undying desire to take care of me, I used my hand that he’d released to grab a handful of his hair. “I want to feel you inside of me again.” I moaned through the words, my heels digging into his back and bringing his hips down to meet mine. I watched as his eyelids fluttered shut, his breath hitching in his throat.

“I want to see the look on your face when you fill me up.” I continued, bucking up in search of the delicious friction I’d been deprived of for months now. “I know what you’re thinking when you do it.”

“F-fuck.” He struggled to lower his hand to hold my hips down, but I could tell he was scared he would hurt me in the process. It was a dangerous game, to ever put me in this position when neither of us had pants on. Spencer’s confidence wavered as he choked on his words, “This isn’t going to work.”

“You can’t think about that if I’m not touching you.”

“Yes, I can.” He responded with no hesitation, his eyebrows raising in a challenge.

“But isn’t it so much more fun when it’s actually possible?” I cooed.

“It’s always possible, it’s just so unlikel— Fuck!” Spencer cut off by his own gasp when I finally succeeded in pulling him against my heat.

The noise that I gave was something between a sigh and a moan, and I swore I saw Spencer’s pupils dilate in response. There were just some things he couldn’t hide, no matter how hard he tried. But my satisfaction was short lived, and Spencer sat up on his knees to place a manageable distance between us.

“We’re not doing this.” He growled through clenched teeth, his nails raking over my thighs before he removed them entirely. “Stop being a greedy fucking brat and spread your legs.”

I waited a second, hoping that Spencer would get impatient and force my legs open himself. But he flashed me a look, warning me that if I didn’t behave, he could very easily just send me to bed without any satisfaction. And as much as I wanted to call his bluff, the idea of going to bed without getting to touch him was so upsetting.

So, I slowly dropped my legs open, running my hands over the skin still burning from where his hands had touched me. And even slower, Spencer lowered himself until his face rested against my thigh, the scruff of his cheek causing a shiver to run up my body.

“Don’t tell me that a few months of me pampering you has undone all of my hard work.” He murmured so softly I almost didn’t hear it.

But the fact that I did was evidenced by my laugh. “That would imply you’ve actually accomplished something to undo, but I’m just as bratty as the day you met me, Dr. Reid.”

He smiled, his eyes focusing on my face as I continued to giggle, now urged on by the way his breath tickled my inner thigh. “Is that right?” He said in that familiar cocky voice. “Because I happen to recall that the first time that I did this, you tried to stop me.”

The blood rushed to my cheeks as my mind replayed the memory of his smirk from when he had held my legs open for him.

‘You’re not broken, little girl. Promise.’ Just the thought of the words was enough to cloud my mind, but I was dedicated to besting him in this exchange. If he was going to be arrogant, then I would give him the best challenge I could.

“Would you rather I fought you?” I asked, beginning to pull my legs shut before he grabbed them and pulled them over his shoulders.

“No. The instructions for tonight should be very easy to follow; even for you.”

I was trying to pay attention, but it was getting harder the closer he came to actually fucking doing something. It was so obvious that he was getting off on the way my eyes were barely able to stay open, my chest moving with each half-sob that came when he would lay a kiss against my hips.

“What are they?” I slurred, grabbing handfuls of the sheets to prevent myself from forcing him against me.

It was clearly the exact question he was waiting for, a devilish smirk stretching over his cheeks as he dragged his lips down to where I wanted them, moving them against my skin to say, “Stay still, and don’t be quiet.”

While I appreciated the instruction, I feared that it was in vain. Because when Spencer finally flattened his tongue against me, I couldn’t have stopped myself from immediately crying out if I tried.

My hands retained their death grip on the sheets, partially making up for the fact that my body immediately disobeyed his command to stay still. But I couldn’t help it; the long strokes of his tongue up and down my sex felt like pure bliss. And honestly, it wasn’t even just the physical sensations. It was just the knowledge that we were back where we should be; shamelessly indulging in our need for each other without inhibitions. Spencer was clearly enjoying himself, his hands struggling to gently hold me down while he devoured me like a man starved.

I couldn’t look at him, my head bent so far back I could see the headboard. His name fell from my mouth like a mantra, my hips rolling against each motion of his tongue.

“I missed you.” I cried, my legs once again locking around him, my heels on his back as I wished I could pull him closer. “I missed this so badly, Spencer.”

He couldn’t really answer, although I think the moan that he gave was meant to be a response. The vibrations almost sent me over the edge, but right before they could, he pulled back ever so slightly.

I glanced down to figure out why, and was met with his eyes watching me intently, analyzing every response I was giving him; memorizing the way my body shook with need after just a few weeks in his absence.

“Please, don’t stop.” I begged, not caring how pathetic the words sounded when they broke in my throat.

“Oh, I’m not.” He mumbled against me, raising his lips to close around the bundle of nerves at my crest.

At first, I just sighed, appreciating the soft flicks and swirls of his tongue that would eventually build up another release. But it was when I closed my eyes that he revealed his plan.

Without any warning, I felt his finger slip between my folds, thrusting into me with one fluid motion as my wanton moans filled the room. He didn’t let them distract him, his mouth intent on the rhythm it had set, and his hand insistently working to match it.

There was nothing comprehensible in the noises I made, and neither of us seemed to mind. Spencer was only urged on, quickly adding a second finger in his ruthless pace that finally forced me to release the wrinkled sheets in my hands. Instead, they wound through his hair, pulling me against him as I chased my release.

“Please.” I whined, hoping that he would know what I was asking for. Because I didn’t even know what I was asking for— just that he could give it to me.

And sure enough, he did, his fingers beginning to curl inside of me with each motion. I used all of the energy I could muster had to keep my hips relatively still, although they were still trembling with the tension spreading through my muscles that tightened around him.

I wanted to call out his name, to give him the praise and recognition he deserved, but my tongue was tied in the haze of pleasure that overtook me. I could barely breathe, my mind transported to some alternate universe where there was only Spencer and myself. There was no point in identifying where we diverged, because he felt so much like a part of me in that moment, I could never separate from him again.

My walls fluttered around his fingers that still pumped into me with the same vigor. His tongue continued to circle my clit while he gently sucked, clearly lost in his own form of pleasure from the activity.

I wished I could touch him more. I wanted to drag him up to my lips, turn him onto his back and ride him until my legs gave out. But I couldn’t; my body tired and no longer used to the energy we once made a habit of spending on each other on any given day. It had used that energy to dull the pain so I could enjoy the relatively tame experience we had just shared.

As I came down from my orgasm, I was filled with guilt over the fact that I hadn’t so much as touched him once in this entire encounter, and now my hands weren’t even able to keep my grip on his hair as he lifted his head.

Spencer seemed none the wiser about the shame brewing in my head, and he wiped his mouth to reveal a lovesick smile beneath his hand.

“Good girl.” He rasped, crawling up to my side rather than on top of me. With a tender hand, he brushed aside the strands of my hair that stuck to the sweat on my face. “I knew you could behave.”

He sounded so proud of me, which only served to intensify the guilt now pouring from my heart and tainting the rest of what should have been a beautiful memory. I clung to the little bit of light I saw in those toffee eyes.

“How dare you imply I’m ever capable of such a thing.” I chuckled, reaching out to hold him somehow.

He took my hand in his, raising it to his lips for a brief kiss before resting them both against his heart.

“Can I help you?” I sounded drunk from my exhaustion, but hopefully determined enough to convince him I was willing. He didn’t buy it.

“No, go to sleep.”

He leaned forward like he was going to kiss me, but then brought his fingers down over my eyes, brushing over my lids in an attempt to get me to close them. To his credit, it worked, but only for a second before they snapped back open.

“That’s not fair!” I murmured, pulling the sheet over me while I tried to sneak closer to him. I noticed the way he scrutinized my free hand’s movements, ready to stop it from doing too much.

‘It’s gonna be like that, huh?’ I didn’t let it stop me from trying. I didn’t even get to his bellybutton before he snatched my wrist.

“I said no.”

“You know... I could help you without touching you.” I offered instead, pressing my hand against his chest since he wouldn’t let it move any lower. “It’s not the first time we’ve touched ourselves for each other.”

Spencer snorted at the reference, bringing my hands up to his neck, where they happily ran through his now tangled hair.

“That didn’t end well for me last time.”

“I bet you still finished without me.” I teased, my tongue slipping out from my mouth. “Did my pictures come in handy?”

“Like you said— I have an eidetic memory. I don’t need pictures.”

The most noticeable part of his response wasn’t the way his cheeks turned pink, but rather that he didn’t deny that he’d used the pictures. Knowing they were long gone now, considering Penelope’s tendency to snoop too much for her own good, I wondered if that memory was filed away somewhere special in his mind.

“You especially don’t need them when I’m right here.” I purred, tugging him closer by his hair until the gap between us was gone, our lips pressed feverishly against the other.

It was always like that. Like the second we touched, the proverbial dam between us turned to dust. Within a matter of seconds, we’d be so wrapped up in each other that we didn’t care about the wreckage left in our wake.

Spencer didn’t let it get that far, though. He hadn’t in some time.

“You have had enough excitement for one day. I don’t need anything.” He clarified, clearing his throat and acting like I couldn’t feel his erection pressed against my thigh. Still, his next statement was so genuine I couldn’t have argued with it if I tried. “I just wanted to take care of you. That’s all I’ve ever wanted.”

But on the topic of wanting, I knew I felt it more. “I want things to be normal again.” I answered quickly, an urgency blooming in my throat that died when I tried to finish the thought. “I feel so... useless.”

His hand has grabbed my chin before I even noticed its absence on my hip. He held my face towards him, a dark and pained timbre in his voice.

“Don’t ever think that.”

It was a plea. I wanted to give him the relief and assurance he sought, but my gut told me to be honest with him, even if it hurt us.

“It’s just that before, we... did so much more and I’m scared that I won’t...”

Why was it so hard? He was looking at me like he would do anything to stop me from feeling even the slightest discomfort, but I felt like I was suffocating. I didn’t want to disappoint him. I didn’t want him to worry. I wanted to make him as happy as he made me, but...

“I’m scared that I won’t ever be able to do it again.”

He couldn’t tell me that I was wrong. If he tried to make it only about my physical condition, he risked the chance of me telling him I don’t want to do it ever again. Did I feel that way? It was hard to tell; it was too early to tell. But the crushing despair that I felt at the thought of losing that part of our relationship suggested I did not feel that way.

“Hey. Look at me.” Spencer’s voice tore me away from the intrusive thoughts about our inevitable fallout, his hand still holding me in place in front of him, and his eyes still promising me the world.

“Just because we’ve done something before doesn’t mean we ever have to do it again.”

The words felt like the first breath after struggling for air underwater and finally breaking the surface just in the nick of time. Why were they such a relief? I couldn’t figure it out, but was too afraid to ask, fearing how Spencer might take it. Although, the tears pooling at my lashes gave him more than enough to read.

“Tell me you understand.” His request was as gentle as always. After a moment of trying, and failing, to collect myself, I nodded.

He sighed, cautiously moving his palm to cup my cheek. It was his voice that broke then. “I know this is hard, but I need you to use your big girl words for this. I need to make sure you hear me.”

“I understand.” My throat ached as I forced the words out. I could tell he wasn’t convinced but knew any argument would be meaningless while we were both so tired.

“Thank you.” He said, anyway. And like the prettiest sounding broken record, he let his fingertips trail over any exposed area he could find as he spoke the same words I’d heard before, even more insistent. “Even if you never touched me again, just knowing that you’re alive and happy... That alone makes the happiest man in the world.”

Spencer’s lips pressed against my forehead, resting there for a little too long. From the uneven shake of his breath, I knew he was hiding something, but didn’t want to ask what. I suspected they were tears.

I had disappointed him again. I had hurt him, yet again. I hadn’t meant to.

“It’s all that I need. To know that you’re happy.” There was an implicit message hiding in those words.

He was saying he wanted me to be happy, consciously neglecting to voice the resigned addition, ‘even if it’s not with me.’

“I know.” I whispered, half asleep as he continued drawing patterns on my skin. I meant to tell him that he was the only man who’d ever made me feel truly happy, safe, and loved— the only one I trusted with my heart. But all that came out was a simple, “I love you.”

“I love you, too.” He said back, leaving me to wonder if he’d heard what I meant.

—————————————————

After everything I’d been through, I’d sworn that I would never want to be in a hospital ever again. But, unfortunately for me, it seemed my stubbornness extended even to my own limits, which explained why I was currently walking through the doors of the residential inpatient ward. It was a good idea in theory, to volunteer in the last place I wanted to be so that I could grow used to being there again.

It didn’t have to be a scary place.

Especially since the people around me weren’t the typical hospital patients. In fact, the people there weren’t even the usual patients of the hospital. Apparently, the ward was hosting a group of traveling patients that had been deemed fit for a vacation to the nation’s capital.

My assignment was simple enough - simply meet with a person and discuss the book they were currently reading. There was no requirement that we had to have read the book before, considering that would leave most people without a partner at all.

I was expecting to meet someone to discuss some niche romance novel or whatever had recently come out in theaters, but as I scanned the list of books, one stuck out to me more than the others.

The Book of Margery Kempe (1501).

It wasn’t the book itself that piqued my interest— I’d never read it. I had, however, listened to Spencer explain the entire premise to me on several occasions. Unsurprisingly, no one else volunteered for the book from the fifteenth century that referred to the main character as “this creature.” No one until me, that is.

There was no questioning who my partner was when I entered the room, spotting her quickly on the outskirts of the room with the book in her hand, but her eyes fixed on the raindrops slowly dripping down the window.

“Hi, are you Diana?”

She jumped a little at the sound of my voice, and I tried not to be consumed by guilt for surprising her despite my best efforts not to.

“Who are you?”

“I’m (y/n). I’m sorry if I scared you. I was assigned to be your book buddy today.” I explained, gesturing to the book on her lap with a smile that wasn’t big enough to be fake. From what the nurses had told me about her, I figured it was best to just be as genuine as possible… which made my answer to her next question a little more difficult.

“You’ve read this book?”

“Actually, I haven’t. No one had.” I laughed, pulling another chair over to her before taking a seat. “But I have heard someone go through basically the entire story in their own words, so...” I never finished the thought, cut off by a slight scoff from the woman.

“I figured. You’re very young.”

“Hey! Young people can read the classics.” I defended, crossing the lower half of my legs and tucking my hands between my knees. It probably gave away some of my nerves, but I figured it was alright considering she wasn’t a profiler and Spencer wasn’t here.

“But you don’t.” She wryly noted.

“Guilty. My boyfriend does, though.” I acquiesced, albeit a bit distracted as my mind decided to focus on those memories rather than the current reality.

“At least you’ve got that exposure. It’s important to learn these things.”

For a second, it felt like I was being lectured by my boyfriend, making it hard not to laugh, which I was pretty sure she didn’t appreciate.

“Can you tell me about it? I want to know if my boyfriend was just making stuff up.” I shrugged, laughing while I found myself avoiding her eyes. She noticed that behavior; most people would.

But to my surprise, she started to explain the book, anyway. Less surprising was the realization that Spencer hadn’t made up any of it. It was clear as day from their similar words that they had definitely read the same book. And if I didn’t know any better, I’d have thought they’d discussed it together, too.

She was more talented than he was at explaining, though. Maybe it was a little bit my fault, considering I always got distracted by his voice. But with her, it really did feel like someone sharing a part of themselves. I could tell how deeply she cared for literature, and it made me more excited to hear about the chaste holy woman that found herself tempted by jealousy and sex.

When her story was winding to an end, I was almost sad that it was over. “You must have been a professor.” I mumbled, having already forgotten the information I was given by the nurses.

She was quick to correct me, her mouth curling into a frown as she said, “I still am. I’m just not on the campus anymore.”

“Of course. Gotta stay sharp, right?” I half-heartedly joked, sitting up from my slouched position. A brief stint of silence stretched between us and glancing at the clock I realized that it would still be a little while until Spencer could come get me. So, I turned back to the woman in front of me, noticing the way she stared out the window as she chewed on her nails.

“Is that why you wanted to visit D.C.?” I wondered aloud, and her response didn’t help assuage that curiosity at all.

“I... have another reason.”

“That sounds very mysterious, Diana.” I giggled, leaning forward and whispering, “Are you secretly a rebel?”

She scoffed, but I detected amusement behind the apparent derision. “Nothing like that.”

As sneaky and vague as she was being, and the fact that I had been warned of her paranoia, I still found myself wanting to ask her what could possibly make her as happy as her current thought.

“So what is it?” I said, leaning back in an effort to seem less insistent, explaining my intentions in a rant reminiscent of my boyfriend. “I don’t mean to pry, I just... you got really happy and I’d love to share in that excitement.”

“That’s just selfish.”

She really was so much like him.

“That’s how you know I won’t judge you.” I pointed out, raising one hand in the air and placing the other on my heart.

“I’m not worried about that.” She just waved her hand at me, ignoring my dramatic gesticulations and sighing as she glanced down at the book once more. After another moment of contemplation, her eyes flicked up to me so quickly I almost missed them, analyzing my features one more time before she carefully said, “I’m here to visit my son.”

“That sounds wonderful.”

Although her expression was anxious, she still seemed at least a little relieved to have shared her plans with someone.

“He is.” She returned, lightly brushing the back of the book, almost like she was trying to remember something etched on the beveled hardcover. “He’s a good boy. Very bright. He has wonderful adventures. He goes all over the country. He used to tell me everything but... he’s gotten too busy for his mother these past few years.”

As I took in the words, I felt the pain in her voice. My heart wrenched in my chest, imagining how awful it must be to not have a chance to talk to your family. “I’m sure he doesn’t mean to ignore you.” At least, I hoped not. She had so many stories to tell, even in just this short window, I couldn’t imagine anyone would want to avoid her. Then again… I knew it could be hard.

“I know he’s busy. That’s why I wanted to come here. It makes it easier for him.” She was confident in her explanation, and I nodded back with similar gusto.

“Have you talked to him yet?”

“No. I’m going to have them call him today.”

We were both happy then, and I clapped my hands together in front of me to suppress the urge to touch her as I excitedly replied, “I hope you get to see him.”

“Me too,” she agreed, simultaneously hopeful and defeated, before turning back to the window with the same wistfulness as before. “If not, the museums will be nice, too.”

“Hey, if you need a docent, I could always call my boyfriend. He would be so excited to talk to a fellow scholar who could actually follow along.” I excitedly replied, rocking forward in my chair with a goofy grin at the thought. She reminded me enough of him that I figured the two would get along. He’d at least understand what she talked about, unlike me.

“There’s no one that can compare to my son.” She warned, narrowing her eyes and pouting in a way I swore I’d seen before on another face.

“I bet. He does sound a lot like him, though. I bet they’d be friends.” The gears in my brain, rusted and slightly worn, started to turn. “They actually might be... my boyfriend lives near here.”

And that was when it hit me, the obvious conclusion I’d been avoiding for some reason. That creeping, unsettling familiarity wasn’t from coincidence; it was my brain recognizing her as an extension of the man I loved.

“...What’s your son’s name?”

She never got to answer, because no sooner had I finished saying the words thanwe both heard Spencer’s voice from the door behind us.

“Mom?”

The realization crashed into all three of us like a goddamn freight train. And even with my flair for the dramatic, I found my head spinning as I tried to will time to rewind itself.

“Spencer? How did you know I was here?” Diana said through a confused gasp, turning to me to see the equally stunned look on my face.

“I didn’t… I—“

They both turned to me, but I was too busy staring halfway between them, my jaw dropped open and my brain suddenly devoid of any helpful thought.

When it decided to finally be helpful, it was only marginally better. “Well… that makes a lot of sense.” I said with a cringeworthy laugh. When neither of them laughed, and continued to stare at me, I quickly shot up from my chair and waved a shaking hand. “You should talk to your mom. I’ll give you guys a minute.”

I didn’t get very far before Spencer’s hand caught my wrist, his wild eyes wide and insistent as he crackled, “Actually, I need a minute alone with you. If that’s okay.”

I turned to Diana for her permission but found nothing useful. She was also still caught up in the disaster that had just occurred, and turned back to her son who seemed genuinely apologetic.

“Sorry mom, I’ll… I’ll be right back.”

Spencer nearly dragged me out of the room, shutting the door and hiding out of sight of any windows. If he was ready to unleash his pent up anxiety, though, he wasn’t quick enough.

“Spencer, what the shit?!” I whisper-yelled, the sound echoing through the sterile hallway.

My boyfriend didn’t have any answers, his hands raking through his hair as he clearly tried to calm his heart and rapid breath. “I’m sorry I— I didn’t know that she was here! What is she doing here?!”

“Oh my god. Shut up. I’m freaking out. What if she thinks I’m weird?” I rambled back, grabbing my chest once I realized that I was freaking out just was badly as the idiot in front of me. Because seriously, he couldn’t tell me his mom’s name so I wouldn’t be blindsided like this?

Then again, I guess I couldn’t talk.

“What did you say to her?” He whispered back, dragging his hands over his face. He seemed eerily calm while asking, considering just how much we could have gotten into during our conversation. Although, I guess it would have been weird to share the more intimate, embarrassing details with a stranger at a hospital.

“I don’t know! We just talked about you!”

“You talked about me?!”

“Well we didn’t know we were both talking about you!” I said was quietly as possible, which was not quiet at all. Waving my arms between us, I tried to explain the jumbled mess in my head. “She was talking about her son and I was talking about my boyfriend and— Actually, that reminds me.”

“What?”

His answer came in the form of a soft thwack on the back of his head. He jumped, raising his hands to his head in both shock and embarrassment at the public chastisement, despite there being no one around to witness it.

“Call your mother, asshole!”

“Ow?! Don’t hit me!” He whined, and I could tell from the tone that the only damage done was to his ego.

“Stop ignoring your mother! You shouldn’t even be out here!” I reminded him, laying my hands against his chest and beginning to push him back towards the door. “Get back in there!”

Spencer’s hands held onto mine, and for the first time in a while I noticed that they were shaking. The lighthearted panic I’d felt seconds before vanished, replaced with a painful sadness that seemed to bleed from him into my hands.

“I’m not trying to ignore her, I just…” His eyes were struggling to focus, and the crackle in his voice warned me that there was something he was trying to avoid saying. “I can explain… This.”

I didn’t need to hear it.

“Explain what?” I meant the question to be an expression of my feelings, but it seemed to freak him out more. Like I actually expected an answer for why his mother was in a program like this. Like the reason he had kept that from me mattered. I already knew the reason he didn’t tell me— It was pretty obvious.

“Spencer, I don’t care that she’s here. That doesn’t bother me.”

From the faraway look in his eyes, I knew he didn’t really believe me. I couldn’t blame him entirely. The shame was clear on his features. But I also knew that nothing I could say in that moment would make him believe me; it would probably take a long time. That was okay. We had time.

“I’m serious. She’s your mother and you love her, so of course I’m going to like her.” I tried to reassure him anyway, and I noticed the small twitch of his pout that slowly turned into a pitiful smile.

Trying to keep that upward trend, I motioned to my absolutely ridiculous outfit and bedhead before I laughed, “I’m mostly just mortified about the fact that I just met your mother looking like this and acting like a fucking moron.”

Thankfully, Spencer laughed back. His hands gripped mine tighter, and through the tears that stayed perched on his eyes without falling, he croaked, “I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t apologize. Just… go see your mom. I’ll go hang out in the cafeteria for a minute.” I jumped up on my toes, yanking my hands back only to them around his neck.

His arms caught me like they always did, holding me so tightly against him that I could feel his heartbeat against my chest. I kissed him just as hard, trying to remind him that there was nothing in the world that could ruin the happiness I felt when he held me.

I held his face as the kiss ended, squishing his cheeks together and warping his smile in the process. I was just grateful that it was still there.

“And take your time talking to her, because I am fucking starving.” I instructed. The crisp hospital air on my skin was cold as he left, but inside my chest, butterflies erupted that kept me warm. He gave me one final goofy wave before we went our separate ways again.

As I wandered through the hospital halls, I wondered if he knew how nervous I actually was. I couldn’t tell him yet; he would misinterpret it, regardless of his profiling skills. He would see the anxiety in my interactions with her as my fear over his future mental state instead of what it really was— fear that the other woman he loved wouldn’t approve of me.

There was no sense in worrying about it yet. Diana and I had shared a great time together as far as I could tell, and I would definitely make sure that Spencer spent more time talking to her in the future. So as depressing as the hospital cafeteria could be, it wasn’t so bad that day.

—————————————————

Being alone with Diana was so much different after I’d learned that she was Spencer’s mother. Then again, we weren’t really alone - Spencer was there, he’d just passed out and somehow ended up with his head against the pillow on my lap. I was a little surprised by how comfortable he was being so touchy feely in front of his mother, but I’d also recognized the exhaustion the second he walked into the hospital. He’d been out cold for at least 10 minutes, and I was barely able to stay awake, myself.

Diana seemed wide awake, though, watching the minute rise and fall of Spencer’s shoulder as he slept. At least, I thought that was what she was watching, but it could have also been my hand stroking his arm.

“My son seems very happy.”

I looked up, shaken by the sudden sound after nearly falling asleep to the rhythm of Spencer’s breath against my knee. “I think that has more to do with you being here.” I said through a yawn.

“I’m not so sure.” That was all she said, quiet and skeptical. Her eyes were scrutinizing everything she could see, and I thanked the stars that I didn’t have to go through this without him here, at least. At least we’d had one nice memory together first.

“Are you the reason he’s been so busy?”

I was dreading the question but had already planned my response. “I hope not. His job is so stressful, and he spends so much of his free time taking care of me.” I looked down at the mop of brown hair that hadn’t been brushed.

When I ran my hand through the ends of his curls, he shifted on my lap, his hand coming up to grab my thigh as he buried his face into the pillow. I chuckled at the clingy movements, which poorly contrasted my words.

“It makes me feel awful.”

I expected her to look disappointed or disturbed by the action, but she mostly just looked… sad.

“He’s good at taking care of people.” She explained, her head jerking away to stare at the lamp beside her. “I made him do it too often.”

Her answer hurt me in more ways than one. It hurt me because I felt the guilt and shame in her voice over something that she had no control over, which was obviously something that should never happen. But it also hurt because I heard myself in it, and I had to ask myself if, just like I had found traits of my father in Spencer, he’d found his mother in me.

Don’t get me wrong, I wouldn’t be ashamed of being like her - she was brilliant and obviously cared for him deeply. It was the source of the shame that frightened me.

Was he just with me to take care of me? How soon would he grow tired of that? What would happen when I got better? Would I ever? Did I even want to, if that meant he would leave?

They were terrible, awful thoughts to have. So, I did what I was best at, and shoved them back into the corner of my mind to revisit when I was desperate and alone.

“I think he would disagree. He obviously loves you very much.” Was what I said, instead.

“I could say the same for you.” There was a slight bitterness in her words that forced a frown out of me. The words were forceful, almost like a compulsion that she wanted to fight but was too tired to win. She seemed to regret that, too.

“I know my son... and I’ve never seen him like this before.” She pointed to him on my lap, still sound asleep despite the conversation happening above him. “I don’t think he’s ever slept that well with me. And…”

Part of me wanted to tell her that it wasn’t always like this. I wanted her to know that it had nothing to do with any failing of her own, but a failing on the part of the rest of the world for hurting him when neither of us had been there. But she probably felt the same guilt I did that we couldn’t fix those broken parts. Her eyes met mine, and in the reflection, I saw both of our apprehension.

“I’ve never felt like a girl was taking my son away from me before.”

The breath wasn’t knocked from me, but it did fall out of me in a slow, shaky exhale. I didn’t know what to say back, terrified by the implication behind the words just as much as the fact she felt them.

“He’ll always be yours first.” I promised her, refusing to look away from her eyes even as she refused to meet them. I needed her to know that I would never be a threat to them. That all I wanted or cared about was that he was happy and safe, and that I knew she felt the same.

“Then he should call me more.” Diana said, wry humor bleeding back into the conversation despite how heavy it had become.

“I’ll make sure he does.” I answered, my hands resuming their gentle soothing motions. I saw her hand mimicking the actions against her blanket and found myself wondering about things I’d never ask her. I knew virtually nothing about his childhood aside from the prodigy thing, but it was clear that his father was not in the picture, and that he was very close with his mother.

I couldn’t blame her for wanting to protect him. Just as I had thought it, she’d said it herself.

“When you’re kind like my son, the world will eat you alive if no one is protecting you.”

Maybe Spencer had gotten that mind reading trait from his mother, rather than his profiler training, I thought.

“Are you going to protect him?”

I wasn’t ready for that question. Honestly, I hadn’t even considered it. In all the time we’d been together, I’d selfishly worried about how any harm to him would affect me. In my defense, it had always seemed the more likely scenario.

I was so worried about being the source of his hurt or not being able to fix it that I never thought about how I could prevent it. It almost felt… inevitable. Everyone who loved me got hurt, and he’d already made up his mind on that topic.

“I’m going to try.” The hesitance in my voice gave away my anxieties, and Diana spoke quicker and bolder.  

“You said he takes care of you, but what do you do for him?”

The walls were closing in on me, and I couldn’t fucking breathe. My hand on Spencer’s arm grabbed his shirt before I noticed. I wanted him to be awake, to hold me and tell me that it would be okay. I wanted to be far away from that conversation— that question.

“I-I…” I mumbled, trying to flatten my hand as his mother saw it, trying to act like I wasn’t a fucking child clinging to her boyfriend to save her from a question she didn’t have a satisfying answer to.

It was too late, and Diana covered her mouth as she looked away. “I see.” She said before we both went silent.

The silence didn’t help either, though. If anything, it felt worse. Like my chest had been torn open and she could see all the contents, and the longer I gave her to draw her own conclusions about what she saw, the worst they would become.

That was stupid, right? I couldn’t tell. She liked me, right? Did it matter?

“He told me he wants to get married and have kids and I’m just...” I started to ramble, my hands now hovering above Spencer as I stared down at him, still sleeping soundly like the world wasn’t crushing me above him. In a panic, I looked up to Diana with what I can only assume was a terrified, frantic look. “I’m worried. I’m scared that he won’t be as happy as he could be if he stays with me instead of... someone else. And that question scares me because I still don’t know why he cares about me so much when I can’t give him half of what he gives me.”

My chest heaved from a combination of the lack of breath and skyrocketing pulse. Diana peered at me through her peripherals, a battle visible behind her gaze.

“Most people would be scared to admit that. Especially to his mother.” She thought out loud, and I knew she was weighing my open admission to determine how likely it was that I was lying.

“I figured lying would be worse. I know honesty is important to your family.” I confessed, hoping that my openness wouldn’t come back to bite me in the ass. “I don’t ever want to lie to either of you.”

I left off the ‘again.’

“You know what I think?” Diana said, tapping her chin and readjusting the blanket over her legs as she found a way to be more comfortable with the tension floating in the air.

I took it as a good sign. I hoped it was a good sign. I looked at her in anticipation.

“I think... you two will be happier than you think.” Diana’s lips curled ever so slightly as she held her own hand, rubbing the back of her hand the same way Spencer often rubbed mine. “Love is more than similar beliefs. It’s wanting to share your life with someone. Wanting to see them happy.”

Despite the content of her words, it didn’t feel like a lecture. It was… warm, and comforting. Her voice sounded familiar and loving and safe. She was the one who had taught Spencer to talk.

“I love my son more than anything else in the world. I won’t let anyone take him away unless I’m positive that he will be happy.” Diana finished; the warning grave but her voice quiet.

“I understand.” I replied just as softly, finally looking back down to Spencer. My heart felt like it would burst from the image. As much as I wanted him to see me and his mother having a heart to heart, it was best not to worry him with our battling affections, no matter how minimal the risk.

“Do you love him?”

The question hung in the air because I was still so caught up in his face that I almost forgot she couldn’t read my mind.

“Yes.” I felt the tears forming in my eyes as I breathlessly repeated, “Yes, I do. I love him.”

Diana must have heard the strain in my voice and seen the tiredness in my eyes, because the threatening tone faded. “Then take care of him.” She said, more like a plea than a demand. “Take care of him like I never could, because you know how much he deserves it.”

I nodded, excitedly and happily, my voice breaking and interrupted by a hard swallow to rid myself of the lump in my throat when I said, “I will.”

With perfect timing, Spencer’s body jerked under my hand as it found its way back to his shoulder. “What are you guys talking about?” He slurred before even opening his eyes, clearly bothered by the lost time wherein his mother and I could have spoken about any number of horrifying things.

“We were just saying it’s time for me to head out.” I lied, and Diana’s sly smirk was enough of an indication for me to feel alright about it. It was funny—I’d just told her I never wanted to lie to him, but this one seemed pretty harmless. She deserved alone time with her son, after all.

“Do you want me to drive you?” He finally sat up, rubbing his face to try and get rid of the creases that had formed from the pillow’s texture.

I laughed at the question because he was so obviously not in a position to drive. It wouldn’t be the first time I’d gotten an Uber after leaving his place, and I was sure it wouldn’t be the last. At least this time wasn’t a walk of shame.

“No, I’m fine. You stay here and spend time with your mom. Awake, this time.” I warned, poking him on the nose and earning a playful giggle from the grown man at my side. “She came a long way. She deserves it.”

He quickly got me back, grabbing my face and pulling me forward to plant a kiss on my forehead. And as much as I would have preferred one on the lips, I was grateful for his sudden modesty in front of his mother. It still felt strange.

“Okay. I love you. Drive safe please. And tell me when you get home.” He instructed as I nodded along, already having memorized the speech from every time I’d ever left him.

“Of course.” I murmured through a somewhat embarrassed pout before I got up and grabbed my things.

Before I made my way to the door, I stopped, turning to see Spencer take the seat beside his mother. She took his hand, but she looked at me. I thought about hugging her but knew that Spencer’s company was far superior to mine, and that every second I distracted her was one less she got with him. So, I settled for a wave and a smile.

“Goodnight Diana. Thanks for the talk.”

“Goodnight.” She returned, with a contented smile washing over her as her son rested his head on her shoulder. The final image of the two of them happy in each other’s company was enough to satisfy me until the next time I saw him. Because, like we’d just discussed, he was happy, and that was all that mattered.

As I opened the door to leave, she spoke again. “Thank you.” She said, and I knew she was talking about more than the conversation.

“Anytime.”

—————————————————

| Part 19 |

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the-edge-of-great · 4 years

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can you do 14 with alex finding out that gay marriage is legal maybe learning about other wholesome lgbt+ progress since '95

(there’s a weird glitch or something on my feed where the ask isn’t showing, so just in case, this is for @lemonwilford)

so after finishing this, I have four tabs open for formal dresses, wedding venues, and lesbian wedding aesthetics on Pinterest AND I have an article from 1993 about gay rights (started as a reference but then it got interesting so really, it’s my fourth article)

in other words I kinda get obsessed and distracted with researching and referencing for anything that I write, so, TL;DR enjoy :)

also juke is totally established in this cause I said so

14. “That’s legal now?”

-------

“Ready?”

“Ready!” the guys call back to Julie. They’re in the studio, patiently waiting for the surprise she wanted to show them. She was eager about something when she came home from school and told them she couldn’t practice on Saturday. They might’ve been bummed had she not been bouncing with excitement. Alex had smiled fondly at her; excited Julie was his favorite Julie.

She promised to show them what was happening Saturday before leaving, and now they’re eager themselves.

Julie throws open both studio doors with a type of dramatic flare that Alex can respect. She saunters in wearing a gorgeous golden dress with lace shoulders, a sweetheart neckline, and a hem stops just above her knee, matching heels clicking across the floor. Her hair bounces against her shoulders: big and curly and gorgeous, like always. She’s wearing red lipstick, and her eyeliner is sharp and precise; Alex thinks it’s called a cat eye. There’s so much lingo he still needs to catch up on.

He meets her halfway with a grin and offers his hand. “You look beautiful,” he says, spinning her in a circle. She twists on the toe of her heel, and her dress flares. There are sparkles in the intricate design across her chest that glisten under the studio lights. Alex catches her around the waist when she stumbles to a stop.

“Yeah,” Reggie agrees. “You look amazing.”

Alex joins Reggie as Luke approaches. They share a knowing smile.

“Where are you going looking so good?” he asks, arms wrapping around her waist and pulling her close.

Julie beams at him. “A wedding for one of my friends from music class. Her moms are getting married.”

Alex blinks. “Moms?”

Luke frowns. “You mean… two women?”

Like a switch, Julie’s bright demeanor falters. She pushes against Luke’s arms, frowning as she breaks away from him. “Yeah,” she answers, eyeing each of them carefully. “Are you guys… okay with that?”

Alex makes a noise—somewhere between a scoff and a snicker. Okay with that? Of course he is. But confused? Yes. Very.

Reggie nods, chewing on his lip. He’s trying not to smile—Alex can see the corners of his mouth twitching. “Yeah,” he says. “Of course we are, we just—”

“That’s legal now?” Alex blurts.

A second passes, but Julie’s eyes widen with realization. “Ninety-five,” she mutters to herself, nodding slowly. “Right.” Louder, she explains, “Yeah, gay marriage was legalized, like, five years ago. Actually, a lot’s changed since the 90s.”

Luke snickers. “No kidding.”

“Oh my gosh, wait until you see Pride in June! LA has the best celebrations.” She shifts her weight, smiling sheepishly. “Not that I have experienced any outside of here to compare, but, you know what I mean. It’s so much fun! Flynn and I went with Sarah and her moms last year—Sarah’s moms are the ones getting married today.”

Julie is looking at him more than she usually looks at Luke—and she catches herself every time, quickly averting her eyes back to him and Reggie—which is really saying something. She can’t possibly know though, right? He certainly didn’t tell her. He knows neither Luke nor Reggie told her. Is it really so obvious, or could she perhaps… actually be a witch? Was Reggie on to something?

Alex rolls his eyes; he must be having an off day or something to really consider Julie being a witch and Reggie to be right.

“… Or not,” Julie says, rocking on her heels and twisting the ring on her finger. She’s looking at him again, much less sure of herself than before. Reggie and Luke are staring too; Luke elbows him in the side and glares.

“What?” Alex whines, pushing him away. “What are you—Oh! Oh, I wasn’t—I didn’t—” He shakes his head at Julie. “I wasn’t rolling my eyes at you! I just… had a dumb idea… Anyway, I’m sorry, what did you say?”

“She said we could go with her,” Reggie explains. “To the wedding, if we want to.” He raises his eyebrows knowingly. How come everyone is so knowing toward him all of a sudden?

“You should,” Julie persists. “Sarah showed us pictures of the venue today at school. It looks gorgeous in the daylight—I can’t wait to see it tonight.”

Luke grins. “Of course we’ll go.” He chuckles at the guys. “I mean, what else do we have to do?”

So, that’s how they end up in the outdoors of Orange County. The guys ride in the back of Ray’s car—apparently, ghosts can ride in cars. Flynn doesn’t carpool with Julie; when the girls reunite, she explains how her mom decided last minute that Flynn’s hair would look better in a bun rather than her regular braids.

They pose for pictures from Ray and the wedding photographer. Then Sarah, Alex thinks—a teenage girl with fair skin and copper red hair in a neat plait against her shoulder—rushes over with the biggest grin on her face. The girls gush over their outfits, the night, the decorations, etc etc. They’re cute; Alex shares a fond smile with Luke and Reggie.

“This place is pretty,” Reggie admits, turning in a slow circle to take in the scenery. They’re in a forest, surrounded by towering pine trees, and there are lights everywhere. Streams of globe bulbs are strung up from tree to tree, creating an arch in the center where a long, white rug leads to a stage filled with golden flowers. The sun was already setting when they left Julie’s house, so by now, the reception is a warm glow in an otherwise dark forest.

“Alex,” Luke mutters, as if anyone could actually hear them, and nudges his elbow into Alex’s side, “look around dude. Most of these couples aren’t straight.”

He noticed when they first arrived that men mostly stayed with men and women mostly stayed with women, but now that Luke has pointed it out, Alex is noticing that the guests are actually couples. A couple to their left is discussing the food. One man feeds the other a bite of a sandwich and gloats when his partner admits it’s actually not bad. To their right, two women are posing in front of the wedding photographer. One is kissing the other’s cheek.

“I think this is the most…” Alex pauses, trying to both find the right word and take it all in because, really, this is a lot. It’s a good amount of a lot, of course, but… These people are openly showing off their partners. They’re happy. They’re proud of themselves. And the straight people aren’t saying anything rude? No one is cursing at them? Claiming they’ve damned themselves?

“Alex?” Reggie asks softly.

“I know a lot is different from, you know,” Alex begins, “but I think this is the biggest change I’ve seen. I mean—” He gestures wildly at the scene before them. “This is legal! This is legal. It’s accepted. They’re just—Everyone is just—themselves! They’re themselves, and it’s okay.”

“I was gonna ask how you feel about it, but—” Luke shares a laugh with Reggie— “I think I have my answer.”

“I feel…” Alex rocks on his heels, considering his answer. He chews on his lip. “You guys will probably think it’s dumb, but—”

“You know we won’t think it’s dumb,” Reggie argues immediately. Alex glances at him. He’s giving Alex this look with a raised eyebrow, like he can’t believe he would even think that. Which is valid, you know, because they’ve never been anything less than supportive of Alex. Of course they haven’t; he really lucked out in the friend department.

“I feel safe here.” He shoves his hands in his jacket pockets. “Like when I could finally leave my house to go to practice, and I knew none of you guys would judge me if I told you about a guy that I thought was cute.” He finds Julie in the crowd, chatting with the lesbian couple he saw earlier, posing for pictures—selfies—with them and laughing when the woman’s partner hid bunny ears behind her head.

Alex rubs the back of his neck. “I just… don’t think I could’ve imagined feeling safe around people who aren’t my friends.” He finally turns to Luke and Reggie, who are watching him with wide grins. Alex huffs a laugh. “Stop looking at me like that.”

Reggie chuckles. He slings an arm around Alex’s shoulders. “We’re just happy for you, man.”

“Yeah,” Luke agrees. He hums. “Can’t wait to see what the whole thing with June is about.”

“Yeah!” Reggie exclaims. “D’ya think it’s a few days? A week?”

“We can ask Julie later,” Alex suggests.

Reggie snickers. “If she doesn’t stay with Flynn.”

Luke hums. “Yeah, I’m gonna… go convince her to stay home tonight.” He pauses to squeeze Alex’s shoulder before leaving them for the dance floor.

Alex suddenly steps away from Reggie. “I, uh… I’ll be right back.”

“Where are you going?”

“I just—I want to find Willie. I want to talk to him about something.”

“You’re really going to leave me third wheeling with jukebox over there?”

Alex snorts. “Jukebox? Have they approved of that name?”

“… They don’t know about it.” Reggie pauses, then adds, “And you’re not going to tell them.”

“I promise.”

Reggie chuckles. “You better. Now go, find your boy.”

He’s at the museum, the first place Alex looks. He’s just leaving actually—as soon as Alex arrives at the building, Willie is phasing through the door, about to skate down the street.

“Willie!” Alex calls.

Willie steps off his board. He turns to him, and instantly, a smile spreads across his face. “Hey, Alex. What’s up?”

“So,” Alex says, stopping in front of him, grinning, “tell me about Pride.”

Willie’s eyes shine at the request, just as beautiful as the lights from the wedding.

“I’d love to.”

#Julie and the phantoms #JATP #JATPprompts #willex #willie jatp #willie x alex #Alex jatp

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xo-cuteplosion-xo · 3 years

Note

How about a musician reader x character fic? Maybe a singer who performs in a cafe, or a classical musician who plays in an orchestra, or who plays in a rock band? I dunno I have a lot of ideas in my mind but I'm just too lazy to write them :D What do you think?

So here's the baseline you gave me - a musician reader fic x character. Here's what I decided to fill in for this lovely fic- a fluffy bsd collage Au where the reader is majoring in music and has the side job of a stage performer. Then, because they would match well, so I decided to go with a Fyodor x reader. Hope this is alright!

Words- 1728 ~

Hearts Composition | fyodor x musician reader | (collage Au)

Music thudded against the walls, muffled only by the thick layers that hid backstage from the audience. The aroma of heavily worn perfume surrounded people in pleasant bliss. Waitresses and waiters swayed with heavy plates rested along arms and in hands. Carrying much-wanted foods and booze to awaiting customers. The collection of accents muted under the heavy beats of taps and clicks from the metal of the dancer's shoes. Picking up a smaller wooden, finely carved, and rather expensive model of a violin, stood yourself. With a smile, your hands trailed the curves and strings of the delicate instrument. With all the work you had to do for university you had truly didn’t have time to be doing some minimum wage job. Though you didn’t care much, if you could play something, it would be fine. You performed here every once in a blue moon. You weren't one of the performers, but they would grace you with the intermission on busy nights. Much like these nights, when the crowd was full and the people rowdy and in need of constant entertainment. You could soothe those shouts and demands of perverted drunk men; Soothe the cries of broken women and rich spoiled children.

Stepping onto the wooden stage as the lights dim, allowing you the bare minimum of the peeping moonlight to find the microphone located at the center. Inhaling as your anxiety turned into bliss, you waited. As the colored light flew on, you rested your chin on the soft velvet. Holding up the bow, you set it to the strings. With a final inhale, your eyes fluttered shut as you played a classical piece; one constructed for an upcoming project that was due for your music composition class. You had nearly all the string instruments you could play finished; all but the cello. With every strum of your instrument, the crowd fell silent, enjoying the break from all the heavy excitement. Even the children's chatter soothed down, so your instrument could echo off the thin walls of the pub.

Sipping nothing but a cup of tea with a small side of biscuits, a male leaned in his seat. Sitting with a pristine, perfect posture, he listened to the soft sound. The way his violet eyes slowly lidded, and his hair fell back against his face, lit his features in a urethral, almost divine light. His mind working to recognize the piece. As an up-and-coming musician, he had several classics memorized. He could join in by ear, or even write out the full pieces without needing to see the original sheet music. This piece wasn’t something he recognized, could it be an original piece?

If you were to open your eyes as you neared the end of the first piece, you would notice his gaze rested on you. Eyes open halfway with hidden interest, and yet, the stare was attractive. The blank look that hid everything beneath a mask laid strewn across his features. As you finished and stood up, surrounded by applause, he watched your every stride. It was funny, he thought he could almost recognize you.

With shaking hands, your fingers typed within a group chat of other college students you had met and become close to. “I’m so nervous. I have to hand in that piece today. I pulled an all-nighter trying to decide on the cello part, but nothing sounded right, so now I might not get a full mark.” You could hear the whine through the text. When replies of good luck came to you, except for two replies, you chuckled. One read “could always just die before handing it in.” Another wrote, “I've got the wine ready.” laughing to yourself as you walked into the classroom and set down the folder in the bin. Glancing through the room, you took a seat with your head down. It was unusual for you to arrive early to class, but your anxiety with this project was slowly picking at you to just get there and hand it in. With twenty minutes till class started, you decided to pull out your laptop and listen to the recording from last week.

Taking out your notebook, you started jotting notes about small things to improve, and things you hated about your performances. You didn’t notice somebody else enter the classroom rather early. Carrying his bag, he set it down at one of the desks before the sound of a violin entered his ears. Sitting down he listened to the melody you had played several nights before. As the piece finished, his eyes traveled to the bin. Now understanding where you had gotten the piece from, he sighed. “You’re not half bad, you played a little flat, but it sounds okay. Becoming a flustered disaster, you froze glancing over to him. This wasn’t the first time you had noticed him in class, he was hard to miss. His completely perfect grades, perfect posture, and looks made him stand out. Not only that, but he had strong ideals and his debate skills could sway anybody. Though, you knew it wasn’t really skill, more manipulation. To add to everything his Russian accent stuck out with every word he spoke. “Could you play that again?” hesitating at first you restarted the piece.

He took out a blank piece of sheet music and started scribbling down notes. As if memorizing the piece, he tapped his fingers before bringing his thumb to his mouth and chewing on it. Tapping his foot as the piece came to an end, he glanced at the time before walking over to one of the room's cellos. His face resembled discontent as he looked at it. Looking to where he sat, you realized he didn’t have his with him. You presumed it had to do with the instrument being heavy and somewhat large. Though for somebody of his height, it may not be that big of a deal. Perhaps he didn’t want to lug it around with him, considering he had all of those other books for classes. “So uh, why did you want to hear it again?” you mumbled, rubbing the back of your neck as you watched him strum a few strings. He was checking the accuracy and pitch of the notes. With a contempt sigh, he shrugged.

“Your writing is considerably well done. I wished to try something that is all.” He did not shed a glance as he sat down and ran the bow across the strings. The sound was heaven within your ears, but to him, it was nothing but ordinary. The sound of a well-made expensive Russian model, the model he owned, was much better than this school-provided variant. As the melody played, you recognized it as your piece. Smiling slightly as your eyes sparkled. You bolted from your seat to grab your folder; the music that was due in 10 minutes.

Looking over the cello part you had constructed, you changed the key signature to hold a few new sharps and took away some of the flats. Boldly, you handed the male the sheet music and pointed as if asking "Is this the piece you were playing?" Setting the cello aside, he ran a finger over the bars with a nod. “So that’s what I was missing! You're a god at memorizing and creating. Now I'm excited to see what you concocted for the presentation.” You smiled lightly before placing the folder in the bin. “Oh, I never got your name. I’m-” he cut you off before you could formally introduce yourself.

“You’re y/n. I do pay attention to people who aren't a complete waste of time.” The layers of his ego began to shine through his solid expression. The way you'd called him god just then, was another layer added to the ever-growing ego this man had. He thought he was above everybody else; he indeed was. In every way possible, he was above the normal human. With an exceptionally sharp mind, emotionless facade, and a spin of extraordinary talents, he was a god among men. “I’m taken aback, you don’t know me.” frowning you sat back at your desk. Leaning your head against the palm of your hand with a frown, you clicked your tongue.

Coming up with a sharp reply, you rolled your eyes. “Please, who doesn't know the great Dostoevsky. You’re only at the top of our class. Correcting myself before you can, the top in everything.” He snickered his brows raising in interest. His lips curled into a smirk moments before breaking to speak to you again.

“Consider your words before speaking. That wasn’t exactly the best wording to say "I'm better than everybody at everything.” It took you several seconds to realize what had gone through his head. Of course, he understood what you were saying, but he also managed to nitpick everything.

Blushing you placed your hands in front of your face. “I didn't think about it because that’s not what I was saying!” he snickered again. Listening to him stand you peeked from your hands to watch him set away the cello and bow.

“How often do you perform at that pub?” He switched the discussion relatively quickly. But with the sudden pause of your reaction and the setting away of the instrument, it flowed nicely with the conversation.

“Once or twice a month?” You answer honestly. A bit upset by the lack of real performances you had.

“Next time, I'll reserve something, and we’ll set something up. I want to see if you can play something… difficult.” It wasn't much of a question, more a demand. Nodding you wrote down your number, sliding it to the student with a smile as the bell rang.

For the next week, the two of you met in the unused rooms Fyodor managed to snag for practicing. He often shook his head at your way of playing. He did compliment the several different instruments you would take with you. From the cello to the violin, there wasn’t much you couldn’t play. Each was expertly designed and crafted to fit your arm length and height. Custom made and shipped from all over the world. Eventually, it became a routine, going to his concerts as he attended yours. While you praised how good he was, he would find the smallest mistakes to condemn you about.

#bsd #bsd x reader #bsd x reader scenerio #bsd scenerio #bungo stray dogs x reader #bungou stray dogs #fyodor #bsd college au #bsd college au x reader #bsd college x reader #fyodor college au #fyodor college #fyodor x reader #musican fyodor #musician fyodor x reader #fyodor x musician reader #fyodor x you

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mimiplaysgames · 3 years

Text

Terraqua Week Day 6 (Free Day)

Summary: Terra and Aqua are getting married—and Ven is the Bridezilla. || Word Count: 9,058

Read on AO3

A/N: @terraquaweek I could have never written this without my dear friend @localcryptideli. We talked about this wedding years ago, and I promised to write it. It’s here, three years later, blending their headcanons with mine and I couldn’t be more proud of it. <3

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

the threads that tie hearts together

Terra never once considered in his entire life that his wedding preparations would include the perk of mice squeaking in his ear—but he here is, in the tailor’s studio, getting re-fitted for his tuxedo, with Princess Cinderella’s team of seamstress mice on his shoulders, measuring the length of his arms. His muscles were too big for the previous suit.

Ven refuses to hire a proper tailor, and instead rents out the parlor so the mice could do their work in private.

Lea sits on a nearby bench by the shoe shelves, the top button of his shirt open, jabbing at his Gummiphone. He’s quite popular today, pinged every two minutes. Isa and Roxas share a mirror, trying to get the mechanics of their bow ties right.

Terra is getting married.

The thought. Married. Soon. Yes. Damn. He can’t cry right now.

Terra stands in front of a mirror and bends his elbows to see how the fabric moves. The mice are tiny, three of them in skirts. They’ve developed an efficient obstacle course of threads all down his entire body, a network so the mice on the floor can deliver them supplies—spools, sewing needles, thumbtacks, measuring tape—in a jiffy.

Lea groans, squeezing his Gummiphone. “This twerp is going to turn me into a serial killer.” He yawns, possibly for the fortieth time.

“Not an ill-fitting job, all things considered,” Isa says from across the room.

“I do appreciate your sarcasm.”

“Who’s bothering you?” Terra asks, lifting his collar so the mouse on his left could thread through it with a sewing needle.

Lea snorts, slaps his knee and leans forward. “Did you not know your buddy is a monster?”

“Ven?”

“Oh, he’s a joy.” Lea holds his Gummiphone up as if he’s about to make a speech. “Come help me pick out Aqua’s flowers. Now. If you could.” He glances at Terra, then back at the phone. “He writes that in all-caps.”

“I’m sure he doesn’t mean to be so pushy.”

“The other day, he called me to model the bride’s dress because Miss Aqua couldn’t be bothered to come to the fitting herself.”

“Master Aqua was away on a mission,” Isa explains.

“Isa took photos of me in it—” Lea scrolls through his phone, but stops. “Oh, I can’t show you before...” He clicks his tongue. “It’s very nice. Very bridal.”

Terra is sure that’s true, but the image of Ven hanging his head so much on someone else’s wedding is worrisome. Last night, he fell asleep at dinner. “I think Ven is taking on too much stress.”

“Lea,” Roxas says, snorting a chuckle and giving up on his bow tie, “you should show him the texts.”

“Gladly.” Lea stands to shove the Gummiphone into Terra’s face. Out of the history, a couple of messages stand out.

Ventus

I got 500 cake flavors come taste them with me

Ventus

Which cologne do you think terra should wear

COME SMELL

i need a second opinion

Ventus

Do you have aqua’s flowers yet?

remember

we want orange roses and bluestars

Ventus

Aqua isnt here im freaking out

Youre closest to her body type

HELP

After all that, Terra feels as though he’s being watched by several microscopic eyes. One of the mice squeaks with urgency, and he straightens one of his arms. “I don’t know what to say... Why doesn’t he talk to me directly?”

Lea purses his lips as though this is a secret not worth sharing. Roxas is the one to step forward, a knowing grimace plastered on his face.

“He told me that he doesn’t want to bother you with anything.”

That doesn’t sound entirely false but not true either.

“That’s ridiculous.” Terra tests the bend of the elbow to fiddle with his bow tie. It’s already done but something about it doesn’t sit right. “He could come to me for anything,” he says with a low voice, wondering if there’s something he’s missing. Terra has also been a mess. He’s getting married. Holy stars.

Isa huffs out of frustration, turning away from the mirror, his bow tie undone. He studies Terra’s suit. “I don’t like it.”

His straightforwardness is well appreciated. Aqua would probably smirk at the sight of it and stare at his neck the entire ceremony. “I don’t either,” Terra says.

“Smart man.” Isa smirks, and tugs Terra’s bow tie to undo it. “Let’s change it.”

Lea snorts. “You might want to ask permission from he-who-shall-be-slapped.”

“It’s my wedding,” Terra says.

“So you think.”

He-who-may-be-slapped enters the tailor’s parlor through the front entrance, announced by the bell of the ring. He’s perfectly dressed in his ringbearer’s/best man’s/maid of honor’s suit, vest fitted, bow tie sublime, sleeves coiffed. He sees what Isa is doing. He gapes.

“Hey guys,” Ven asks with a frustratingly shaky voice. “What are we doing?”

“They are unbecoming,” Isa answers, wrapping a traditional tie around Terra’s neck.

“Oh.”

Sometimes, speaking to Isa is like getting clocked in the stomach. By the looks of Lea’s expression, chewing on the edge of his Gummiphone, it’s well deserved.

“Okay,” Ven says, with a tight smile. He takes the tie from Isa’s hands. “Do they match?”

“A hello would be less rude,” Terra says. “Hi, Ven. Can we talk?”

Ven glances up. “Later. There’s lots to do.”

Lea inhales sharply. “Hey, Ven. Here’s an idea. Did you know you could tame cicadas to sing in harmony on command?”

Ven whips his head around. “You can?”

Isa brings a hand up to hide a smirk and Lea passes him a subtle wink.

“Picture it.” Lea opens his arms. “From nine until eleven at night, they gather in the bushes. They mutter, a light dusting of atmosphere on a peaceful summer night.”

Ven’s eyes grow wide with obsession.

Roxas comes near. “You can also make them glow.”

“Like stars in the bushes,” Ven whispers to himself.

“Come on, guys,” Terra says, unimpressed. “Leave him alone. We’ve got better things to do.”

Ven snaps himself out of it, but not before pulling out a notepad and writing notes. He eyes Terra over, nudging him to open his arms and pinching the sides of the suit. Ven draws them in by the measure of a finger and pulls pins out of his pocket, like he’s been expecting to use them, and marks their places. “Jaq Jaq,” he calls, “where’s Suzy? We need to make sure these ties look right. Oh, and we need two extras—we have to ship some to Riku and Sora.”

Some mouse squeaks in reply.

“I can help her carry things.” Ven gives a flash of a smile and then hurries off.

Out of earshot, Lea gives Terra a look. “Anyone able to talk to mice is a crazy person in my book.”

Terra glares back and quotes, “‘You could tame cicadas to sing on command?’”

“He needs something to obsess over. How else am I going to get peace?”

“This is going to bite you in the ass,” Roxas says, wrapping his new tie over the neck and having a much easier time.

“Ventus may very well task you with hunting and gathering the cicadas,” Isa says, a tie already in place, immaculate.

Lea groans and Terra feels it’s well deserved.

Well deserved… the suit may be. The future wife, maybe not. The suit is a glove for every finger with no excess. It makes him a good-looking groom, a nice addition to the closet for any special occasion. The bride is beautiful, no matter what she wears. She is loyal, patient, strong, intelligent, loving, funny when she’s stern, too good for him, a divine gift he didn’t earn and he still can’t understand how she said yes.

“I hope you’re laughing at the face of my misery,” Lea says.

Terra knows that’s sarcasm. Weddings are headaches, emotions are terrifying and Terra needs Aqua like a sip of medicinal tea to calm down.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The others squeal when they walk into Le Grand Bistro. It’s sunset, the city lights already ignited and giving it the glow of evening fairies welcoming the moon. They’ve just discussed dresses—Xion requests a pantsuit instead, which looks stellar—and they can choose their own styles so long as they all wear the color of night. Simple, elegant. That’s the kind of effect Aqua prefers. Thank goodness they’re almost done. Aqua couldn’t handle more hands in her hair and she rejected the flower crown that would have come down on one side to compensate for the lack of length.

She fiddles with the ring—a thin, intricate design weaved around a small, blue stone—as a waiter escorts them to the kitchen. On days when she doesn’t have missions, she wears it.

Aqua is getting married. Some part of her wonders about the surreality of it, like it’s a dream or a picture she created in her mind when she was a child, at the altar with a faceless person next to her. Sometimes, it feels like she is already married. Terra has always been with her. Every day in class. Every day strolling through the woods. Every day sparring, sharing meals, bickering and laughing. Her best friend, her confidant, her rock.

There is something about nearly dying that challenges perspective. When they both thought they’d never see each other again, it made them realize there’s more to it and there’s been more to it for years. The emotional intimacy that strengthened after the fact. The physicality of it, when he takes her to bed. They argue differently, they laugh the same. Terra has always been with her, so what is the difference between being with him and being married to him? A part of her is eager to find out. The other is already at peace, a kind of joy Aqua has always wanted.

Ven is in the kitchen, talking with Remy (responding to Remy, who is naturally unintelligible). Plates of cake pieces sprawl out on the table, eliciting oohs and aahs from the others, all patient like they’re waiting for Aqua’s permission to take a small bite.

Aqua reads through the description of flavors—strawberry, fudge, angel food cake with blueberries, red velvet, even coffee. “The one we requested isn’t here.”

“You mean…” Ven pulls out his notepad and looks through his notes. Remy climbs onto Ven’s head, squeaking and pointing to a bowl of flour and eggs, unmixed. “Dark chocolate and rum?”

“That would be correct.”

“A spicy cake? Are you insane?” At his shock and at Aqua’s denial, Kairi helps herself to a spoonful of vanilla. “This is a wedding, not a club!”

“My wedding, Ven.” Aqua isn’t annoyed, but amused. Ven has such strong opinions about for some reason.

“Try this one.” He holds up a plate of a decorated piece that honestly looks delicious. “Triple chocolate, with the rarest berries found in the woods, matured at thirty-five degrees Celsius for a week.”

“Burnt cake?” Kairi asks with a smirk.

“Not the cake, the berries.”

“Oh,” Xion gasps, with need in her eyes. It takes a nod from Aqua to grab a fork and have at it. She approaches each piece with so much excitement— Aqua wonders if there are flavors here she’s never tried before in her short life.

“What will the final cake look like?” Naminé asks, the only one not to dive forward. She’s so gentle, so serene. When they were trying out dresses, everyone was saying what a beautiful bride she’ll be one day if she chooses.

“Perfect,” Ven says, like it’s the most obvious thing. “It has to be perfect so it will look beautiful. Painted like a night sky, with stars everywhere. You got that, Remy?”

Remy glares at Ven.

“I want,” Aqua starts, and when Ven frowns, she smirks. Sometimes, for the sake of maintaining control, she has to play dirty. “Rosewater and cardamom.”

Ven sticks his tongue out in disgust.

“Terra needs something to enjoy,” Aqua insists. “These are all too sweet for him.”

“Terra is the bane of my existence.”

“By the way, I don’t know if I want King Mickey and Queen Minnie to officiate.”

“You are way more difficult to deal with.”

Aqua and Ven have a staring contest as the others talk about their favorite flavors. Ven, a glare, a challenge to outwit her. Aqua, a calm knowing that she’s going to win. Ven relents.

“Fine,” he stresses. “Remy, change of plans. We’ll need some damage control. Let’s add some”—he writes into his notepad—“fruit pastries, sweet cheese with chocolate—”

“Triple chocolate,” Kairi adds.

“Custard and kiwi,” Xion says.

“All good choices.” Ven writes them down.

“Sea salt ice cream?” Naminé says, lifting a shoulder. “Everyone else eats them, I hope to try some.”

“Ven.” Kairi slams a hand on the table. “You need to add marshmallows covered in hazelnut and chocolate.”

“We need all the chocolate,” Ven agrees. “Call it revenge on this nasty cake.”

Kairi cackles, but it’s nothing malicious. They’re young and excited about the wedding, their suggestions a way of helping. Aqua takes it all in stride. The small details don’t matter, only the intent, and letting friends have fun deciding makes the entire process easier. What’s bothering her is Ven. He’s exhausted from taking it all too seriously. Aqua assumes the best intentions, but she doesn’t get it.

“You know what would be really cute?” Xion says. “Little petit fours shaped in your symbols.”

Ven blinks. “What symbols?”

“Oh, the Keyblade Master symbols.” Naminé claps her hands. “That would be so lovely.”

“In different colors,” Xion says.

“Each a different flavor,” Naminé adds. “Maybe the same colors as your Wayfinders?”

“You two are geniuses.” Ven taps his notepad. “Remy, we gotta get to work.”

Remy stomps a paw and squeaks vigorously.

“No worries. You’ll get paid.” Though it seems that’s the last thing on Remy’s mind.

“Ven,” Aqua says softly, pulling him aside as the others brainstorm ideas. “I don’t think we can afford all this.”

“Sure you can,” he says too confidently, though she and Terra were the ones to save up their munny. “Don’t worry,” he stresses when she’s not convinced, giving her a squeeze on the arm. “You asked me to bookkeep your finances”

“Reminder that I did not ask you to take full responsibility. Remy can’t do all of this alone, he’s going to need you.”

“I’ve got plenty of time, and we’ve got plenty of budget.”

Aqua does not know how that is possible. After the dresses, the refitting of Terra’s tux, the decorations… sure, since they’re using the ballroom in the Land of Departure, they saved on not having to rent out a venue, but the original plan was to have a small, intimate wedding in the woods, something private with just the three of them, minimal decorations necessary, all plucked from nature.

All of this is out of their price range.

Ven goes back to the table, back to the stovetop and oven where he follows Remy’s instructions and mixes the flour in the bowl with some milk. He doesn’t assuage her at all, like he knows something she doesn’t.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Home should be a solace but not when it’s the wedding rehearsal.

Ven has ushered in movers from different worlds to carry in artifacts, all decorations, all star-themed. Terra has yet to see the ballroom, but the amount of people rushing through the hallways makes him nervous.

Ever since Terra called Riku in the dead of night (in a panic, needing someone to talk to, alone in the kitchen with a cracked mug of tea), blabbing about tripping on the way to the altar, or cutting the cake clean through the table, or stepping on linen and ripping the curtains, or dropping his plate of food, or looking like an idiot on the dance floor, or worse—forgetting his vows—he hasn’t lived a moment of peace. Sora won’t let him.

Terra finds it hard to breathe. What if he chokes on his vows and accidentally offends everyone?

He stays far away from the workers—it’s for the best. No one needs a huge bull stampeding in a china shop, destroying everything.

Lea crosses the hallway on his sixth trip and enters one of two entrances to the ballroom, vases of flowers in his hands. Terra peeks. From the looks of it, Ven did a fantastic job.

The ballroom, once gold, now looks like the set of night. The ceiling is covered in blue with twinkling lights. The table linens are also dark, with napkins and silverware sets a solid gold. Glass windows that take up one entire side to the ballroom are bare of curtains—the wedding is planned for after sunset so they’d be declaring their vows under the stars. Two navy blue carpets come in through both entrances of the ballroom, meeting in the middle and then straight to the altar at the far end. The point is for him and Aqua to enter together, like equals. With her in a bridal dress, she’ll look like a light in the darkness.

Through the doorway, Terra can see Riku and Sora, the latter making motions with his arms as if he’s flapping like a bird. Terra lets the door close so they don’t notice him.

There are fears he’s never voiced.

What if she realizes she doesn’t want to get married to him after all? At the altar no less?

Oh stars, what if he makes a terrible husband?

What if he neglects her?

What if, years down the road, she realizes after a slowly oncoming epiphany that she isn’t happy and regrets it?

Tonight is the party, tomorrow is the wedding, and Terra still has no vows. He pinches his nose hard enough to distract him from crying. He’s already cried five times in the arc of three hours.

Footsteps—light, brisque, confident, hers—approach him, and Terra embraces her in his arms, taking her in with a needy kiss. She smells like home, she lets him breathe again.

“You look like you’re about to fall apart,” she says, stroking a thumb on his cheek.

“Not if you’re my glue.”

She snorts, smacking him on the bicep. “What did I say about the puns?”

“Shower you with them.”

He kisses her before she can roll her eyes—

—and gets interrupted the moment Ven peeks out of one door.

“What’s with the hold-up?” he says.

Terra breaks from the kiss, casually noticing how Aqua is patting his shoulder, as if to warn him. “What’s with your attitude?”

Ven pouts like he’s about to choke and slaps the notepad to his forehead. “No one listens to me. I said baby blue and champagne on the napkins, all shaped to form the constellation of Juno… and they gave me yellow. I am gonna complain so much.”

“There are worse things?” Terra says and Aqua shakes his shoulder as another warning.

Ven snaps his eyes open. “Get into position, we’re starting.”

Aqua stands behind one door and Terra goes to the other, waiting for the cue to enter. On the other side, Ven is speaking out loud, organizing people and where they should stand. Grooms and bridesmaids will enter the altar from behind and gather together, leaving the carpet only for the star couple (no pun intended). He interrupts himself, raising his voice about vases that match too much and Terra can imagine him pointing across the room.

“I have to tell you something,” Aqua loudly whispers from the other side of the hall.

Terra runs to her and wraps an arm around her waist. Touching her is a panacea. Despite knowing there is still a possibility she’ll rethink this entire relationship, it seems unreal, like a nightmare.

“It’s about Ven,” she continues, keeping her voice low even though they’re the only ones in the hall.

“Lea threatened to slap him.”

She frowns.

“What’s wrong?” he asks.

“Don’t you think it’s too expensive?”

“I don’t know. Ven doesn’t tell me how much anything costs.”

“It’s way more than we have saved up.”

Terra gapes. “Then how—?”

Aqua stammers, fiddling with her fingers. “I looked into his books.”

Terra melts into a breath-heavy laugh, careful to keep his voice out of it. “Reading people’s diaries? Aqua, I thought I knew you better.”

She blushes. “I didn’t mean to, but I was worried.” Now Terra is worried. Her expression is too serious. “Ven has been doing side-missions and hustles for months just to earn enough to hire the best chefs and tailors, to buy linens and all these flowers and carpets—”

“He wouldn’t.”

“He did.”

“Why?”

“I think it’s because he wants us to be happy.”

“We are.” Terra doesn’t appreciate how he doesn’t sound confident, scared he’s assuming too much on her behalf. “How could he just…”

“We were stuck in darkness for so long and he couldn’t help us.”

“But that’s not his fault.”

“He feels he is the weakest and wants to compensate.” Aqua grimaces and she blinks back tears.

“I feel so guilty.”

“I feel worse.”

“Why?”

Aqua bites her lip. “I’m still attached to the idea of a small, intimate ceremony in the woods. Just the three of us. Does that make me a horrible person?”

“No. Our wedding has become a spectacle. Maybe pointing that out makes me terrible, too.”

She groans. “I found a book. I left it in your room. It’s very last minute, but there are some ancient rituals in there that I found so beautiful… the exchanging of rings is beautiful, too, but modern and there are some lost traditions from our Keyblade history that I’d love to do instead... if you could take a look?”

The way she smiles, stars. Ancient, modern, he’d do anything for her. “Sure. I’ll read it tonight.”

Aqua winces. “He’ll be so angry with us.”

Terra squeezes her hand. “He wants us to be happy. Think about that.”

One of the doors burst open, and Lea sticks his head out. “Kindly stop being an ass and don’t keep your guests waiting anymore?”

They start: Terra at one entrance, Aqua on the other, entering the ballroom at the same time, where guests will watch them approach one another, like the shadow of the moon to a star. They meet at the point where their lanes merge into one.

Terra offers his arm—

“Nonono,” Ven warns, running up to them. “You can’t meet her like this. You must bow at a forty-degree angle.” Ven scans the room frantically. “Here, I have a ruler.”

After that hiccup, Aqua finally takes Terra’s arm, walking down the single aisle, where guests can ogle at them. Their groomsmen and bridesmaids take pictures with their Gummiphones for their arrival at a wall of flowers.

Sora has his hands behind his head and snickers when they reach the end. “I made sure the carpet is ironed out so she doesn’t fall with you.”

“I’m going to kick you in the shins,” Terra says.

He snorts and wipes his nose. “I’ll kick you back.”

At the altar, Ven is too excited to stop rambling. “We have to make sure that you arrive here, at this spot, at exactly nine-thirty so we can finish the vows at ten because...” He frames the windows with his hands. “We’ve got a perfect spot for star sighting so we need to be on time.”

“Do you mean, right after the wedding ceremony?” Aqua asks.

“Before the reception, yup. We’re walking out to the balcony, we’ll watch the meteor shower where a new world will be born, then we’ll come back in for supper and dancing.” When he notices their stupefied faces, he continues, “I spent three weeks finding the right angulations so you can witness a unique astronomical event, and we’ve got a miracle of a spot right here so we can’t be late.”

“It’s a wonderful thought, Ven,” Aqua says, her voice shaky.

“Okay, now you get into position and face each other.” He points and they follow. “Next, Mickey and Minnie will talk some stuff, you know, all official, and then you say your vows.”

Terra freezes up. “Our vows.”

“Yeah. That’s what I said. You ready?”

Terra hesitates and Aqua speaks for him. “We’re keeping those a secret until tomorrow.”

Ven pauses, then shrugs. “Fair enough.”

Aqua doesn’t let Terra have another thought, leaning forward to kiss him in front of everyone (aahs and awws elicited), and ending the rehearsal.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

“How do you get your skin so clear?” Kairi asks, though the warm glow of the fire makes for spectacular lighting.

They’re camping in the woods near the waterfall, equipped with warm blankets and pillows, a bowl of cookies, and toasted marshmallows on sticks; Aqua’s vision of a bachelorette party. No gifts necessary.

“Mountain spring water does wonders for you,” Aqua says.

“I’ve read in a magazine,” Xion says, crawling out of her sleeping bag, “that some people like to put mud on their faces to get clean skin.”

“Why?” Naminé asks, chewing on a marshmallow.

“Something about the properties. Lots of good minerals.” She walks over to the creek, digging her hands into the dirt and smashing it into her face against the shocks and cries of the other girls. “If mountain water is good for you, then that must mean this mud is magical.”

“Is that true?” Kairi says, though she’s asking no one. She hurries over and joins in on the mud-mashing, running fingers over Xion’s face in places she’s missed.

With globs of mud in their hands, they bring over the excess to the camp.

Xion offers it to Aqua. “For beautiful skin on your special day?”

“It’s our job to pamper,” Kairi says with her hands out so that Naminé can scoop up the mud on her own.

Aqua tries not to chuckle too loudly. It’s adorable. “Okay,” she says, and Xion gets to work, massaging it into her skin. It smells unpleasant, earthy and mukky. She closes her eyes and tries to relax regardless.

“I think we’re supposed to keep it on our faces for at least a half hour,” Xion says, rubbing more on Aqua’s nose.

“This will make us prettier?” Naminé asks.

“Cleaner,” Kairi says.

Naminé blinks, already covered in the mud and hesitating to put on more. “But we look dirty,” she says quietly.

“Can I request something, Miss Aqua?” Xion says, patting her fingers onto Aqua’s forehead.

“Certainly.”

“Can you tell us the story of how Terra proposed?”

Kairi jumps and squeals, and Naminé claps her hands, both of them chattering please, please, we’re dying to know.

“We’re around a fire,” Kairi says, as if that’s a convincing argument. “We’re supposed to tell stories.”

“I feel bad for asking,” Naminé says. “You’re very private, and I don’t want to intrude…”

Aqua reads her face. “But you’re curious.”

Naminé pouts. Xion’s eyes go wide, and Kairi nods excitedly. Everyone is guilty as charged.

“It’s a simple story, I guess,” Aqua says, crossing her legs and watching the fire. It’s not often that she talks so openly about the details of her relationship. The two of them together is something people know, but never knowing where they come from and why, except for Ven—even then, there’s so much he never pries to. Watching their reactions is a little overwhelming. She rubs the stone on her ring. “Terra made the engagement ring with his own hands, but he took months to propose.”

“I remember that,” Xion says, sitting on her chair and smiling. “It annoyed Lea so much that he offered to set you both up just to get it over with.”

Aqua laughs. “I’m grateful we had it to ourselves.”

“Was it romantic?” Kairi asks.

“Not at all. I… knew he was up to something. I know him.” She lifts a shoulder. “He was burning breakfast too often, he couldn’t look me directly in the eye, and he left on his own to do more missions than usual. I took that as though he had done something wrong. The last time he was that clumsy and avoidant, it was because he accidentally cast Firaga in the library and was trying to hide it. Or when he broke the oven. Or when he offered to do my laundry but didn’t know how to treat my fabric and ruined my clothes.”

“He sounds like a clumsy oaf,” Kairi says.

That makes Aqua smile. She loves that oaf. “He is. The general rule of thumb is that a clumsy, avoidant Terra is usually hiding something.”

“So how did the proposal happen?” Naminé asks.

“I cornered him—”

Kairi snorts.

“—and he blurted it out.”

They giggle, Kairi acting out how that may have looked and Naminé holding her hands over her heart in a show of genuine affection.

Aqua smiles to herself, a finger to her lips. It might be her favorite memory, her standing her ground and demanding to know what was going on.

Terra, looking all around the terrace except for her face, guilty, guilty, guilty, pulling a box out of his pocket and stammering for a cohesive sentence. Well, I don’t know what to say, he had said, like a child getting grounded. I-I’m sorry. I’m dumb, I’m a big lump of a human being. He paused, his cheeks rounding up like he was about to vomit. Will…will you marry me, anyway?

It felt like racing in a train and pulling all the stops, crashing. He got red in the face, tears welling in his eyes and she realized he took her silence as rejection. Aqua had to hold his forearms, and all she could utter was a soft, I genuinely thought you burned down a building.

Terra’s eyes went wide. Do you mean you’re not mad?

Of course not. Why would I be?

So… He licked his lips, reaching for her but not touching her, forgetting that he had the box with the ring inside. What do you say? I mean, you don’t have to give me an answer straight away. I mean, I just thought you would… you know… because… He sighed. Yeah.

Aqua finally laughed, and kissed him on the cheek. Of course I will marry you, you beautiful dork.

The laughter quiets around the fire. They’re waiting for Aqua to continue her story.

“Then he drops the ring.”

They howl, melting into a blissful exchange of cheers and gossip, a vibrant hearth brighter than the one keeping them warm.

“I had hoped to propose first, actually,” Aqua continues. She shrugs. “The end.”

“That was beautiful,” Naminé says, wiping her eyes.

“If Sora hears about this, he’ll never leave Terra alone,” Kairi says, grinning something mischievous.

“I don’t know what love is supposed to look like,” Xion says thoughtfully, gazing at the sky. “But it sounds sweet.”

In Aqua’s opinion, the proposal was perfect, him scattered on the ground frantically searching for the ring, her on her knees helping him. How he slipped it on her finger, how they kissed for an hour in the dirt, unaware that they were dusty, unaware that anyone else existed in the world.

Aqua nods, mostly to herself. It aches to be away from Terra tonight but it burns her insides to see him tomorrow and finally do this. Aqua wants to sleep and get this night over with but she doesn’t want to sleep so she could see the sunrise, knowing he’d be up early watching the same thing.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Bachelor parties aren’t fun.

Sora is whooping about a cannonball, the water splashing when he makes contact. Ven and Roxas race to the lake, testing who will be the first to dive, the first to swim across and come back. Considering the expanse of the surface area, they’ll be gone for a while and the barbecue will get cold, but maybe it’s for the best. It’s not the right time to talk to Ven right now, not when all of them have a moment of fun (except for Terra, the only one here thinking about tomorrow). Lea and Isa prefer to relax, sipping drinks on their chairs by the lanterns erected onto the sand, speaking quietly about memories, about chores, about home and what ifs.

Terra sits by himself, the thin booklet Aqua gave him on his lap, tucked under layers of parchment. It’s titled The Way, no author. She was right: old Keyblade rituals are interesting, almost possessive, their focus on the literal binding of hearts. They’re from the Age of Fairytales, and Terra realizes as he reads through it that ancient Keyblade wielders were for some reason obsessed with the loss of memory and the prevention of it. The rituals sound painful, too—maybe Aqua has developed a mild taste of macabre from her time in the Realm of Darkness.

All Terra has left to do are his vows. His stupid, dorky-sounding vows. He should have accepted the simple, “I do.” He shouldn’t have waited until the last minute.

He’s tried dramatic.

You are my other half, my heart, my breath of life, my sky, my angel, can we keep our souls together?

He’s tried poetic.

The mountain will thirst if not for the water—

He’s tried being honest.

I don’t know why you love me, but I’ll do my best to make it up to you.

All dumb.

Terra groans into his hands, eyes wide in existential blunder.

“Keep doing that,” Riku says, setting a chair next to him and sitting down, “and you won’t be able to blink again.”

“I’m not finished.”

“But if you don’t sleep, then you’re more likely to have accidents.”

Terra gapes and almost whacks Riku on the side of the head from the sight of his constricted smirk. “You’re so mean. I called you one time.”

“In a huge panic talking about causing mass destruction of a wedding the worlds have never seen.” Riku shrugs nonchalantly. That’s his state of being—too cool for anything, too sensitive for everything. It’s refreshing. “It was the funniest phone conversation I’ve ever had.”

“I’ll never call you again.”

“Not in the middle of the night, please no.” Riku bites a forkful of steak. “Is it cliché to tell you to speak from the heart?”

“This entire conversation is cliché, but here I am, living it out.” Terra stares at his messy pages, where he pressed the pen so hard that it left ink blots.

“You could do the very committal thing and tell her you love her fifty times.”

“All the guests would leave by the time I reach twenty-five.”

“More like fifteen.”

“Ten.”

“Disaster.”

Terra grimaces, not entirely comforted, but not entirely anxious anymore, either. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to do.”

“It is a big deal, I’ll give you that,” Riku says, more serious. “I don’t have any advice.”

“None of it makes sense. Be honest, but not too honest. Be loving, but don’t make it cheesy. Express yourself, but hold back on certain things. Do make it personal. Don’t expose personal details. How am I supposed to know how to do it right?”

It would be easier if there are no witnesses. If it’s just Ven, if Aqua is the only person he’s talking to, if he could simply say, You’ve been my best friend for as long as I can remember. I know I’ve fucked up. For as long as I live, I’ll never do that again. I will never take your forgiveness for granted.

And if she doesn’t want to be with him anymore, there’d be nothing he could say to make her stay.

“I think if Aqua was the kind of person who expected you to do it right,” Riku says, looking out to the lake where Ven and Roxas are swimming back to their shore, “you wouldn’t be marrying her.”

Terra bends the pages, exposing the cover of the thin, leather bound booklet. There are no vows he could use in there, except for the officiator declaring their hearts intertwined. “Thank you,” he mumbles.

“Sorry I can’t be of more help.”

Riku pats him on the shoulder and leaves him alone to take a walk, Sora begging him to enter the water. Terra flips to a page where he’s repeated I love you, I love you all over, each in different calligraphy, like doodling, like losing his mind and procrastinating the night away, hoping that any moment, inspiration would drop bricks on him.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

It’s time.

The strangest part of the day is waiting it out in her bedroom until it’s her turn to show herself. Over the years, her bedroom has been a reflection of her personality. The cleanliness, the artifacts from her home world long ago, the size of the bed, the furniture—they all stayed the same. What’s come and gone were the paint colors, the bedsheets, the art on the wall, the smaller vanity mirror. Her bedroom is her old life, and she sits in front of the mirror in her bride’s dress, about to start a new one. For now, they both collide, as though her childhood doesn’t know her.

The cape dress is simple, plain white with the neck scooped across the collarbone. The sleeves slit at the shoulders, draping over to the floor with the rest of the train. Aqua couldn’t have asked for something better. She completes the look with the ring, a jeweled hair pin on one side, and an armored choker. Makeup is minimal.

Aqua is surprisingly calm and the sun is going down.

Her Gummiphone buzzes with a text message.

Terra

Let’s do it

Aqua sighs, not texting back immediately.

Aqua

I don’t want to break Ven’s heart

Terra

I’ll talk to him

We can both get what we want

I already stole some flowers from the wall

Don’t think he notices

She chuckles, moving a hair strand behind her ear. She hasn’t noticed that her stomach has been a knot, from excitement, from nerves, from anticipation. The sun takes so long to set. Terra is the warmth of a tight blanket.

Aqua

Will this label me as a runaway bride?

Terra takes a long time to answer, giving her the impression that he must have been distracted and forgot to reply.

It buzzes.

Terra

The shame

Aqua

What will they think when they find out the groom seduced her to it

Terra

The scandal

when they hear how she met him secretly at the creek

an hour before the ceremony

It sounds like an action plan. Aqua picks up her bouquet of orange roses and bluestars from her vanity table, heading out the door.

Aqua

I want Ven there

Terra

Definitely

I love you

Aqua

I love you too

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Terra finds Ven in the dining room, taking inventory of an indulgement of sweets and a feast of meats, fritters, and rice. The wedding cake is as tall as his body, a dark blue with smacks of gold glitter in the shapes of galaxies, large stars framing each layer, and topped with two halos. Ven is mostly dressed in his vest and tie, the suit missing. By comparison, Terra is overdressed, a groom ready for his encore.

Ven sighs when he sneaks a cookie the shape of the Keyblade Master symbol into his mouth, as though Terra’s presence reminds him of disappointment.

“I couldn’t tame the cicadas,” he says morosely, like he’s apologizing, and for a moment Terra second-guesses what he’s about to do. Ven eyes the white rope curled around Terra’s shoulder. “What’s that for?”

“This may either cheer you up or piss you off,” Terra says, dropping The Way on the counter.

“I don’t like how you said that.” As Ven flips through pages, he frowns, chewing on the side of his lip. “Are you... not happy with the wedding preparations?”

Terra inhales, caught off guard. “Of course I am. Happy, I mean. It’s… huge. It’s a giant ordeal.”

“And you don’t like that,” Ven says quietly, stroking one of the pages with his thumb.

“I think there are things we’ve always wanted to have privately.” Terra sits on a stool, but Ven won’t look him in the eye. “And we want you to be there. We can do it now. We’ll be back in time for our guests.”

The booklet shakes in his hands. “I messed up.”

“From my point of view, I’ll be eating very well tonight. There’s nothing to compensate for.”

Ven closes the book. “I just wanted to do a good job.”

“If you allow Lea to slap you, he’ll forgive you.” Terra smiles, but Ven doesn’t join him. “We’re still doing your grand ceremony—that, we could never pull off on our own. But we also want something tiny and ours, and we won’t do this without you.” Terra takes Ven’s hand and squeezes it, before glancing at the cake. “I hope it’s delicious.”

“It’s disgusting so you’ll definitely like it.”

“See, I can always count on you.” Terra stands up. “Now come on. You wouldn’t want us to be late for the bride.”

Terra takes him to the creek, not far from where Aqua hosted her bachelorette camp, where the sound of rushing water is gentle and the creek splits into two directions, one that would drip off the side of a cliff and one that would join a massive river downstream. The trees huddle close in the clearing, a soft shadow from the fierceness of the setting sun, like a pocket of protective magic in the middle of the forest.

Ven gasps. “You stole my flowers.”

“Please, you didn’t even notice.” Terra had built an easy wooden arbor before the crack of dawn that morning, an arch weaved with orange and blue flowers, spotted every so often with green lilies. He showered right after so no one would suspect.

“Let’s take it over there.” Ven points to a short boulder against a tree nearby, a good photo op. They pluck the arbor up from both sides and plant it in front of the boulder. Ven takes stock of the sight. “Not bad.”

“Thanks!”

“I take credit for the choice of flowers.” Ven rolls the rope into a tight circle, layering it on the boulder with each loop in equal circumference. He splays the book open and studies. “It’s kinda creepy,” he says though he gets no response and he doesn’t ask for one.

Terra shoves his hands into the pockets of his tuxedo and waits. Aqua isn’t here yet. The vest constricts his breathing, the thicket suddenly feels humid, and Terra wipes his cheek, realizing that his heart is beating fast. Time sped up to this moment and dropped him here without warning. Now it’s slowing down out of pure, unjustifiable spite to torture him in the final hour.

“You okay, dude?” Ven asks.

Terra lifts his face to the sky to keep the tears in his eyes. “If I cry now, I think I’ll cry for the rest of the night.”

Ven snorts. “No one would be surprised, trust me.”

But it’s not working. He’s two seconds from sobbing. “I don’t know. I…” He scoffs. “I can’t believe it’s happening. I’m expecting her to never show up or brush me off last minute when she realizes what we’re doing—”

“No.” Ven approaches Terra like he’s about to punch him in the stomach to make a point. “Don’t think like that, she’d never do that.”

Ven has good faith and better timing. Aqua approaches the other side of the clearing, the fabric of her dress gracefully making waves with every step, the foliage fluttering light and shadow on her figure. She holds her bouquet in one hand and a framed photograph tucked under the other.

It shocks Terra.

He can’t stop the flow of tears. He covers his shivering lips and the drip of his nose, his face twisting from the sight of her—brilliant, like she’s made of stars, a gift walking the earth.

“Terra, are you okay?” Aqua asks, rushing to him now, the train of her dress bouncing behind her.

In the flash of an instinct, Terra runs to meet her, tripping over a branch and landing right into her arms.

“You’re—” Terra sucks air in, his heart shoving itself up his esophagus. “Y-you’re s-so beautiful.”

Aqua uses her pinky to wipe his tears. “So are you.”

“Let me help you.” He takes the frame—a portrait of the Master, bordered with a white ribbon—and walks her to the arbor. Ven takes the portrait and places it on the boulder, their little family tied together, fractured in glued pieces, now and always. Before they start, Terra asks Aqua to pose under the arbor so he can take a picture of the trees and the flowers surrounding her. Beautiful.

“How do we do this?” Terra asks when he finds his voice again, still trembling. Aqua stands to the side to take her place. She’s beautiful.

Ven takes the book in his hands. The description of this ritual covers at most two pages. “Well, it’s archaic. It’s from the Age of Fairytales but it sounds like we will intertwine your hearts—but in an intense way, like we’re sewing them together.”

Aqua holds her bouquet to her chest. “Shall we start?”

Terra chuckles too hard, gasping for breath. “Simple as that.”

They wait for Ven’s cue, who also has no idea how to do anything. Ven clears his throat, shrugs his shoulders, and reads:

“We witness today the soldering of two hearts. To intertwine like the roots of a tree, the severance painful, the nourishment plentiful. A physical bond, a magical one, the merging of two sprites under the guidance of one truth. Two hearts, but one.” Terra watches the way Aqua watches him. There’s no one else in the world, Ven’s voice disconnected, like it floats on air. “Now it says to summon your Keyblades. Dig the tips into the ground, and offer your hilts to each other.”

Ends of the Earth is massive, taller than Ven. Stormfall looks delicate but it’s menacing, sharp, direct. They offer their hilts, the shafts crossed over each other, Stormfall light and airy in his hand, Ends of the Earth weighty and thick in hers.

Terra finds it interesting that they’re using the hilt to connect each other’s hearts—the Keyblade should never be used against a person’s heart in traditional Mastery, because it’s such a dangerous weapon and it’s so violating. The blunt hilt, on the other hand, the physical manifestation of their hearts, is like exposure, an offer of vulnerability.

Aqua’s feels like it’s thrumming, singing. She’s happy.

Ven steps forward with the rope and ties it over the hilts in loops. “This is just an image, the ties that bind, two Keyblades, but one. To intertwine a heart is to forge a chain, a friend, a companion, a memory. If missing then a void, a dream, a wish until reunion.” He steps back into position. “Before we go on, I think this would be a nice place to say your vows. Terra, you first.”

Terra stammers, looking into her eyes. “I-I couldn’t write one. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Ven whispers, pulling a piece of paper out of his pocket. “I wrote some just in case.”

Terra doesn’t take it. He licks his lips. “It wouldn’t have been graceful. None of it—all of my thoughts—pale in comparison to you, Aqua.” He steadies himself with labored breathing, the squeeze on her Keyblade like a hold on her waist. “You’re so, so beautiful, and I’ve spent my days believing I don’t deserve you, because… because I couldn’t make things right like I should have.”

Aqua quivers, gently touching his arm with her free hand and motioning for him to breathe.

He continues, “I’m sorry. I wish the Master was here. I wish I was smart enough to prevent it from happening.” He inhales, choking up from the mention of Eraqus. “I never thought you would marry me of all people, so… I promise... I will be there every step of the way. I promise you, if you’re scared at night, I’ll be there to protect you. If you’re hurting in another world, I’ll come find you. If you’re confused, I’ll hold you close and help you make sense of it. I’ll brew you tea to help you sleep, I’ll step in the line of fire even if you wish to do the same for me, I’ll walk to the ends of the earth to make sure you are safe and healthy. I promise I’ll be with you.

“And I’ll mess up. I know me. I’ll fix it. If you want to clobber me, I’ll be patient. I’ll learn. I’ll do better. Every day you save me from myself. This is the least I can do. I’ve loved you since I was a kid. I’ll love you every day.”

Silence falls on all of them, Terra sniffing just to get some fresh air, Ven wiping his eyes, Aqua blinking too much.

“Now you, Aqua,” Ven says.

Despite being teared up, Aqua holds it together. She’s so good at that.

“Terra, I stand with you because I do want to be here. I do want to be by your side. I do want to laugh at your bad jokes.” She relieves a giggle. “I love you. I have for as long as I can remember, even if I didn’t know the words for it.” She studies his face. “I’m sure the Master is here with us, and he couldn’t be prouder of you. I’m proud of you.” Suddenly, she switches her tone, as if to lecture. “And if you even fathom taking a hit for me, remember that I’m faster than you. I’ll protect you first.” Then she softens. “I promise to be your shelter when the storm falls on us. I promise to sit on your bedside when you’re sick, to lift you up when you’re down about yourself, because you are sometimes.

“You are my home, no matter how far your heart is from me. If you need a star to light your way back, I’ll give it to you.” She smiles widely, like she’s about to laugh. “If something between us breaks, I’ll mend it with you. I can’t imagine my life any other way.”

Their words are now spoken. Aqua suppresses a laugh and grins like a child. Terra holds his breath, just in case he screams from every emotion that he can’t name.

“Well,” Ven says, rolling his sleeve up so he could wipe his nose on his forearm. “I guess it’s time. This bond is an oath you will remember each other until you close your eyes for the last time, for the tragedy to forget is to be alone forever. Do you accept this?”

“I do,” Terra says.

Aqua hums. “Yes, I do.”

Ven smiles. “You know what to do.”

With his free hand, Terra presses two fingers to his chest, over his heart, where he builds a golden glow. Twenty years living with her, ten years in darkness thinking about her, this vow is impossible to break—even if they can’t do this any longer, Terra could never forget her. Never. In his hand is now a piece of himself, a nugget of his heart, a memory of her in his bed that he never wants to lose.

He takes those fingers to her chest, two thick golden threads drawn out from his heart. She winces at the touch, quick to dissolve. Stormfall shifts in his hand, growing longer, its hilt thicker and darker, wrapping around like a weaved shield. A subtle change, a little piece of him.

Aqua does the same, fingers to her chest first to create the threads, bringing them to his chest. It does hurt, like a needle digging into his skin, sharp for the entire length until it’s suddenly gone.

He feels full, as though his insides are creating space for something extra. Warm, frightening, whole, exciting. Her piece is a memory he can’t read but he doesn’t need to. Ends of the Earth opens way for an icy blade to cut through the middle as the hilt fans out like wings. A piece of her to take with him where he goes.

“Alright,” Ven chirps, snapping the booklet closed. “The book ends with the quote, Two hearts, only one, but I think this means I can call you husband and wife in secret. So kiss.”

Their Keyblades dissipate when they hold each other, tender but with appetite, unaware of their surroundings for several selfish moments. With sewn threads, it’s as though he breathes through her. Terra presses her onto him, feeling how her heart now beats in sync with his.

“I love you,” she whispers. They are married.

He’ll never tire of hearing it. Stars, they are married. “I love you, too.”

Terra hears Ven sniff before a handkerchief is shoved into his face. “You need your face dry and clean before everyone sees you,” Ven says.

The sunset now is deep, a fiery orange. Terra doesn’t want to let go.

“I’ll hold you again tonight,” Aqua says, patting his chest. “I want to see the meteor shower Ven promised.”

“It’ll be a good one,” Ven assures.

Terra kisses her. “Then we have to make a run for it.” He picks Ven up like a log, jogging through the thicket of the forest with Aqua close behind him, the Master in her arms. When they approach the castle, in the twilight, they hear chatter coming from the halls, as though ghosts are partying outside.

Terra feels at peace despite that he now has to perform, balancing on a tightrope where he doesn’t care if he falls. He turns around and holds her neck to kiss her again, feeling her laughter in his mouth. “One more?” he asks when they break.

Ven, still tucked in Terra’s arm, groans. “I never asked for a front seat to the kissing show. Is this my punishment?”

Aqua kisses him one more time, whispering to him I love you for what will be a string of I love you’s in the night to come. Friends will cheer, Terra will trip on the way to the altar, Sora will cry because Terra will cry, Xion will eat too much cake and get sick, Isa will laugh because he is drunk, Kairi will be the star of the dance, Aqua will be the star in his eyes.

#terraqua #terra #aqua #ventus #terraqua week #kingdom hearts fanfiction #omg #this is finally out holy shiiiiiiiiit #i'm really proud of this one #reading through for edits #i impressed myself haha #my fic

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fantasticstoryteller · 3 years

Text

Under the Sea

The kelp waved despondently in the current as May clutched it. She turned wide, frightened eyes on her nephew, the last of her blood. She couldn't let him know how frightened she was. “This is—this is a great honor,” she said. The pale silver of her braids wrapped around her head as she tried not to look at him.

“Aunt May,” the calm voice, tinged with humor said, “I’ll be fine.”

May peered through her braids at her nephew. He was simply not built like most of the merfolk. Most of them had thick, muscular tails—well suited for pushing against even the strongest of currents. Peter—did not. His tail was long, yes, but it was also thin. Many had wondered when he was born if he would ever be able to properly swim. Most merfolk had thick, muscular bodies—fit for hunting even the most savage of predators. Peter—did not. Compared to most his body was thin, almost like his tail, and he was pale—too pale. Most of the merfolk were darkly colored and had mottled scales to help them hide in the depths. Peter—did not. The scales of his tail were bright red and blue, his fins were so white they almost glowed.

Peter could also use magic. There were others, of course, who could use magic—but Peter was the best. Peter’s magic allowed him to overcome his physical limitations.

And what else? May ignored the traitorous voice in the back of her mind. The important thing, the only thing, was that Peter was a good tadpole and had a kind heart.

A sob broke through her throat and she reached out for him; her tadpole—her son.

Peter willingly embraced his aunt, and gently smoothed the braids out of her face. “It will be all right,” he told her firmly. His embrace was firm. There was nothing, save the scrawniness of his body, to indicate that he wasn’t as strong as other merfolk.

“You’re my baby!” May wailed.

Peter soothingly ran his tail along hers as he hugged her. “I’ll be fine,” he said with confidence. “Everything will be all right.” She could only shake her head and cry, pearls falling off to clutter the floor of their little house.

***

“Shut up Wilson,” growled the dark haired man. The short, stocky man grimaced as he was hit with yet another ocean spray. “This is annoying enough.”

Wade, with no filter, gamely replied. “Aw, is it too wet out here for you?”

“That’s enough.” The order came from the leader of their little party and Wade automatically turned to look at the younger man. Scott had taken off his glasses, designed to save the people around him from getting blasted by his eyes, and was rubbing his lids. The lids had a dark, almost bruised look to them. Wade kept his mouth shut until the glasses were back on. While Scott couldn't actually kill him (no one could), he could make Wade miss out on this important event.

In an effort to create peace between the kingdoms of the land and the sea (the sea folk kept wrecking ships and the land folk kept hunting them) the sea king was sending five of his people to live on land for a year. The hope (from both sides; both rulers were sick of the bloodshed) was that bonds would be formed between the humans and sea folk. A group of five humans had been picked to meet them on the shore, to take the first steps towards trust and a better relationship.

Well, the others had been picked carefully by their ruler for the first gesture at peace. Wade was, as with most things, along for the ride.

[They should be grateful we’re here.] The long, thin beast sat next to Wade and watched sea with narrowed yellow eyes. Its white coat had taken a dull gray sheen from the surrounding land. [They have no idea how dangerous the merfolk are.]

The other beast ran into the waves only to fall back laughing. {But it’s fun!} The yellow beast rolled and looked at both Wade and the other beast with wonder filled white eyes.

The uninitiated would think that the two beasts were blind. Few knew the truth, knew what they truly were. Those who did know tended to look at Wade like he was a monster—and, maybe, he was.

Another splash interrupted Wade’s thoughts as the sea in front of them literally split in half. Rising from the depths, sea foam dancing around them, were five people. Four of them were tall, obscuring the fifth, muscular, and wider at the top than the bottom. They were covered in what appeared to be thin sheets of kelp. They were going to have trouble moving around on land.

[Don’t underestimate them Wade. They are far more dangerous than they appear.]

{A singer! This one’s a singer!}

Wade looked up in horror as Yellow bounced through the foam to jump up to the fifth one emerging. The fifth one looked surprised, but caught the beast before it fell back to the ground. Then, he smiled. Amazingly, impossibly—he smiled.

“Parker!” snapped the one at the head of the group. The boy flinched.

{I want to kill that one Wade. Can I kill him?} Yellow’s tail thumped gently against the boy’s side as the boy fearlessly held the blood beast.

“Put the beast down,” growled the leader.

Parker, the boy, carefully stepped away from the group, trotted onto dry (well, dry-ish) land, and set the blood beast on the ground. Then he gave a low note that made the water shiver off of Yellow’s coat, leaving the blood beast perfectly dry. In fact, a great deal drier than any of the humans on the shore.

In a flash White was next to Yellow and nuzzled gently at the other beast before purposefully nudging Parker with its nose. Wade watched suspiciously as the other members of the group realized (slowly) that something was going on. “Would you like to be dry too?” White gave a regal nod and the boy emitted that tone once more. Water and dirt flew off the blood beast, leaving a it a pure, pristine white.

[The singer is innocent.]

{We should keep him!}

Wade noticed the staring about the same time as the boy, and the boy stood and tucked an errant strand of hair behind his ear and shifted nervously. Scott, Logan, Anna Marie, and Hank stared at the boy—with the two suspiciously docile blood beasts at his feet. The other merfolk were staring as well and looked—annoyed.

“Parker,” growled the one in front.

The ears on both Yellow and White flattened against their heads and, as one, let out a low growl right back at the merfolk. Anna Marie cleared her throat. “Can we, uh, not antagonize the insanely dangerous blood beasts?”

“Welcome to our land!” said Hank, eyes drifting towards Parker and the beasts warily.

Of course he was wary. Wade was the one they were bonded to and he was wary. There was a reason that people avoided blood beasts.

“We’ve prepared places for you to stay,” Hank continued.

{Can we take him home? I want to take him home!}

[I agree. We must make sure the singer is not…tainted.]

By what? Wade wondered. Neither beast (no surprise there) answered him. Everyone knew that blood beasts, bound or not, answered to no one.

***

Peter watched as the person (Hank, he’d introduced himself as envoy of their land king) divided up the merfolk. Peter didn’t want to be separated from them—actually no. No, he could easily stand to be separated from them, but he didn’t want to be alone. Not on dry land. He remembered the stories…

The land beast, with yellow hair, leaned against Peter’s leg and tucked its head against his knee with a low whine. The landfolk stopped and stared for a moment, as though Peter was some kind of terrifying animal that would snap and kill them at a moment’s notice. Peter tried to ignore them as he reached down and gently pet the land animal. The white one nudged his other leg, wanting attention too and Peter was glad to provide it.

Their king hadn’t really given a lot of details as to how this mission was to be accomplished. He wanted to stop the kidnappings of merfolk by humans, and he wanted them to try and build a relationship with the landfolk. Something that Peter had, somehow, already managed to screw up.

He was interrupted from his thoughts by one of the landfolk (a human so bulky he could have been merfolk) slinging an arm around his shoulders. The yellow beast turned and snapped a bite out of the man’s leg. The man didn’t even seem to notice as the beast began to daintily chew the meat. Was that normal?

“Sorry Hank,” said the man. “This one’s coming with me.” The blue human opened his mouth to speak and the man quickly added, “White and Yellow insist.” Landfolk gazes turned to Peter before dropping to the beasts once again.

“And Wade’s home is open to that one. Ah,” the human raised his voice as Flash stalked over to Peter, “I wouldn't—”

Flash reached for Peter, who flinched, but the white beast was suddenly between them releasing a low growl that made the rocks around them tremble.

“So, uh, yeah,” said the man holding Peter, apparently his name was Wade. “See, White and Yellow are a little—unpredictable. And vicious. Very vicious. Not sure why this guy’s still in one piece. So—uh, try not to get too close? If you value your life? Sorry, sorry, not trying to break the alliance all by myself—sorry.”

Before Peter could react the yellow beast lifted its head and swallowed the meat with final gulp before trotting up to stand next to the white beast, tail wagging, tongue lolling. “Shit,” cursed the man as he strode up to the two beasts. He reached down and grabbed at the two necks.

His leg was now whole. There was a hole in the pants, where the beast had bitten through it, but the muscles underneath were once again in one piece and Peter could see the jagged skin through the hole. He stared.

Humans had better recovery powers than merfolk! No wonder their king wanted an alliance with them—perhaps, if they got the authority humans on their side they’d be able to stand a chance against the hunters! And this guy—wasn’t upset by Peter. That was new. That was…nice.

Wade turned to him. “I—I hope you don’t mind,” he said nervously.

It occurred to Peter, for the first time, that the humans were just as nervous as the merfolk. Neither side had had much interaction with the other. For the first time humans and merfolk were coming together. Peter smiled. “I don’t mind,” he said shyly.

The huge human looked at him before looking away. “Sorry,” he muttered. The white beast looked up at the man and he turned, offering a hand to Peter. “Name’s Wade,” he said nervously.

Peter, not entirely certain what the hand was for, reached out for it. “Peter,” he introduced.

The white beast gave a loud, sharp bark and Wade nodded. “These are White and Yellow,” he said pointing to the fascinating creatures.

“Hello White,” Peter said softly, trying not to get too much attention from the others. “Hello Yellow.” The yellow one jumped up and rested two paws on Peter’s chest before absently licking a stripe up the merman’s face.

“I think they like you.”

***

“Are you an idiot?” raged Antonius Stark (also known as Tony, to his friends), king of Vlagard, largest nation of the known world. He glared down at the men in front of him. “Do you have any idea how important this mission is?” he demanded. “Do you?”

The men, understanding their monarch’s anger, stayed silent.

The kingdom Vlagard had one huge strength and one huge weakness. Unfortunately, they were one and the same. The ocean provided food, for the citizens, and travel. It also provided shelter for the merfolk.

Some of the merfolk were harmless. They either wanted to learn more about the humans that looked like them, or they stayed far enough away. Tony was fine with either of those responses. He admired those that wanted to learn more about humans, and respected the ones that wanted to be left alone. That was fine.

What was not fine was the majority of merfolk, who could not tell the difference between a legitimate sailing vessel and a pirate ship, who would mercilessly attack ships and drown everyone on board. He had heard that they had a way of controlling the weather—but he didn’t put much stock in it. No one could control the weather.

He also understood the reaction. The pirates would hunt the merfolk and use them in gory, pain-filled ways that made Tony sick if he thought about it too long. He hated the pirates, would destroy them all if he could. The things they did—made him sick, they really did.

At the same time he had to protect his people—and he didn’t want to go to war with the merfolk. While all Vlagardians praised their navy and believed it to be unbeatable—Tony knew better. He knew that no matter how he enhanced his ships, how many weapons he made for them—they would be vulnerable to attack from below. There was no way around it—and from the bottom was where the merfolk would come from.

Luckily, the king of the sea was just as eager to end the war as Tony was. His reasons were different, of course; from what Tony understood the pirates had discovered the spawning grounds and were attacking there, slaughtering and kidnapping as the whims took them. Right now the pirates could hide amongst the legitimate—but if they could forge an alliance, all that would change. It was even possible that the mer and the humans could work together to destroy the pirates. Possible.

First though, they had to prove they could coexist which was not going to happen if one of the ambassadors got killed!

“Forgive me, My Lord.” Tony shifted in his throne so he could watch the approaching man carefully, warily. Lord Stephen Strange was the only true magician in the kingdom. He could use his magic to manipulate time, energy, and even living things. His living cloak was proof of his power. So far all he had done was in the best interests of the kingdom. “I was held up in divination.”

So far. Tony’s father Howard might have agreed with and held the magician in high esteem, but that didn’t mean Tony did. Tony believed himself to be a man with a practical nature. Sure, they lived in a world saturated by magic—but there was a reason the majority of the populace couldn’t use it.

“You only missed the threat to the treaty that my vassals allowed to happen,” growled Tony as the men in front of him flinched.

“Oh? The Singer is not with the man Bonded to blood beasts?” asked Stephen as he stepped into the room with a frown. “That would be—most unfortunate.”

“Singer?” asked Tony.

“Indeed. Here on land,” the magician theatrically put a hand over his heart, “we have magicians. Under the sea, they are known as Singers. I do believe that your aquatic royal counterpart sent one of them as an ambassador.”

Lady Tasha, unofficially the head of Tony’s entire spy network, stepped out of the shadows. As always, no one had realized that she was there. “Explain,” she ordered. Then, realizing she wasn’t dealing with one of her personal underlings, she explained herself as she rarely did. “Explain why it is important to allow one of our possible allies to live with an unpredictable, immortal man and his two bonded blood beasts.”

Tony shifted at the mention of the creatures. Blood beasts were dangerous, wild, and unpredictable. The two that had bonded with the former soldier were—slightly—more stable than the ones that hadn’t bonded, but that did not mean they were safe. He did not want to risk this mission by entrusting the safety of one of the ambassadors with them.

Stephen met her eyes calmly, living cloak fluttering around him in its own wind. “There are forces conspiring to destroy us, and that child is the keystone. Fortunately, they adore him.”

***

By the time they got to Wade’s home (a crappy little flat in one of the worst parts of the city) he was, understandably, nervous. The flat was small, cramped, and cluttered. It didn’t have any rodents in it—but that was because the two blood beasts were ruthless in hunting them out and killing them. He was certain that it was nothing like—like whatever the mer had under the sea.

The boy looked around the one-room flat with wide eyes. “There’s so much light,” he said as he looked around.

Light? The flat was just big enough for a bed, clothes chest, and chamber pot and the kid was talking about the light? “Uh, most places have light,” he said.

“Not in the sea,” explained the merman softly. He walked to a window and watched the play of the sunlight over the skin of his hand. “In the sea, only the wealthy have lots of light.”

[The farther down you go, the more the light is filtered by the water and the harder it is to see.] White watched the boy standing, just enjoying the sun for a moment. [Those at the bottom of the hierarchy are at the bottom of the floor, where there is less light.]

Wade stared at the beast. It almost sounded as though White had been there and seen it. But that was impossible—wasn’t it?

{Food Wade!} Yellow insisted as it wagged its tail furiously and panted. {We all need food!}

Yeah, right. Wade remembered what happened the last time he’d taken the two blood beasts with him to get food. “Yeah—no,” he told it.

“What?” asked the boy as he turned, still basking in the sunlight, to look at Wade. The glow of the setting sun softened already soft features and he looked so sweet, so pretty that Wade ached to reach out and touch—

[Peter. The singer said his name is Peter.] White trotted over to the boy who automatically—fearlessly!—reached out and pet it.

“Right. Peter.” Wade watched as the boy gently scratched White behind its pointed, twitching ears. Wade still found the sight freaky as hell. He looked at the boy. “What do you know about bond beasts?” he asked curiously.

Peter frowned and slowly, gracefully dropped to a seat on the floor. “Not much,” he said as Yellow bounded over to fling itself in his now presented lap while it panted excitedly.

Wade was very glad he was wearing loose pants. “You know,” he squeaked. He cleared his voice and tried again. “You know that the world is filled with magic,” he said as he tried not to let inappropriate imagery flow into his brain.

Peter nodded. “Of course,” he said.

Wade was stunned at how he managed to keep the insult out of his tone of voice. He swallowed. “Bond beasts—sometimes,” he said changing track, “a human is in a situation where they—impress a magical beast. The two—bond, hence the name, and they’re forever in each other’s heads after that.”

[And being in your head is quite the trial.]

“So you impressed them?” asked Peter.

White snorted with derision and Yellow convulsed into laughter as it rolled on Peter’s lap. “Well—we reached an agreement, of sorts,” Wade admitted.

{You didn’t die.}

[Not like we didn’t try.]

“And,” Wade said ignoring them with difficulty, “they said they’re hungry. Because they’re—them, I’m not allowed to take them into the general public if I can avoid it, and so I was wondering—would you like to come with me to get them food?”

White glared at him. [You must feed the Singer as well, Wade.]

“And us as well,” Wade added quickly. He thought about his usual place and winced. “There will be—a lot of people,” he said slowly.

Peter’s face, impossibly, brightened. “I’d love to meet more humans!” he said cheerfully. He gently rubbed Yellow’s face, scratching it behind the ears, before gently pushing the beast off his lap. And Yellow—didn’t—attack!

Wade shot the blood beast a look as he steered Peter back towards the door.

{Oh! I want to go! I want to go!}

[No.] White firmly sat on the blood beast’s tail. [If we go we may traumatize the Singer. We do not want him to get corrupted.]

Yeah. Wade was going to need White to explain that. Later. First—food. “Do you eat?” he asked, concerned as his hand spanned almost the entire back. “You look very—thin.”

“You’re sweet,” Peter said sweetly.

***

Francis took a long drag of his cigar as he kept a wary eye out on the clientele of the shady tavern. He knew they wouldn't turn him into the Guards, but there were a few that wouldn't hesitate to distribute what they saw as “justice” on him. He needed to steer clear of them, at least while he was on dry land.

Justice. They were just too weak to see the opportunity that presented itself. The mer were a goldmine. They cried pearls, bled rubies, and some were comely enough to grace noble beds. Ha! He bet King Stark had no idea how many of his court had illegally caught mer locked up as toys.

They’d be harder to get though, if both the Navy and the mer were after him. He just needed one more big haul, something large enough to outfit the ship for a voyage to a new land where no one knew him, no one knew his exploits. As long as it was filled with people he could use, he didn’t much care where he went.

He caught sight of a familiar scarred head and ducked into a shadowed corner as he cursed under his breath. Was he fast enough? This was not the time to be visiting that one…

But he had company. There was something—familiar in the way the young man moved. Almost graceful, even when simply moving around a puddle (piss or vomit; didn’t matter in this hellhole) on the floor. Graceful, flowing. Almost as if he was—underwater?

Francis realized what he was looking at. A mer—in human form! And a comely one! Oh, the prices people would pay for that in their bed…

He just had to figure out how.

***

The light was fading as the two of them walked back to Wade’s home. Peter wasn’t stupid; he could tell that humans prized space over light. Still, he’d lived in the shadows since he was a tadpole, and he’d always longed for the light. It was nice. It was warm.

It was drier than Peter had ever thought he’d be. He’d never been out of the water for so long before and his skin was starting to have an odd, tight feeling to it. The feeling wasn’t unpleasant, but was strange.

Then there were the people. As they were getting food the man (a thin, scrawny man that intrigued Peter because he’d never have been allowed to live to adulthood if he’d been mer), the man asked what kind of roast Peter wanted and Peter had replied that he didn’t eat meat. The man had simply smirked and said, “Wade must be disappointed to hear that.”

Wade had turned an interesting shade of red (Peter hadn’t known that humans could change their skin color like that) and paid the man before leaving while the other man cackled.

“Sorry,” he said, still red.

“It’s okay,” Peter assured him. “I don’t understand anyway.” For some reason Wade’s skin became such a stark, mottled red around his scars that he almost seemed to glow.

“It’s—yeah,” said Wade as he rubbed his neck. Peter had noticed the human made that gesture a lot, and it showed off the muscles in the man’s chest. He wanted to rub his hands over the lovely textured skin and feel the muscles rippling underneath, but didn’t know how humans felt about that kind of contact. Would his host welcome it, get nervous and explain why it was wrong, or just be so offended that Peter broke a taboo that Peter was booted out of the man’s home and sent to the palace? He just wasn’t sure.

“Well, well, well,” purred a voice as a thin woman with generous curves sauntered up to the two of them. Unlike most of the human women that Peter had met, she wasn’t wearing much in the way of clothing. “I heard you were playing host to one of the exchange mer, but I didn’t believe. The boys let it happen?”

Wade smiled, attitude changing to confident in a moment. Peter watched with fascination. It was as if the human was a rainbow of reactions to people. This person gets one reaction, this one another, and still another for this strange woman.

Mer tended to have two reactions; either they were protective and close, or rejecting and cold. Well, they were also respectful to Steve—but he was their king. Of course they all felt respect and a little awe for him.

“The boys insisted,” Wade told her.

She paused. “What, really?” she asked, disbelief coloring her voice.

“Really.”

She looked at Peter again, wonder and calculation in her gaze. “Wade,” she said without looking away from Peter, “he’s wearing seaweed.”

“To be fair, he was wearing that when—hey!”

The woman linked her arm with Peter’s and began gently towing the mer away. “Humans,” she said firmly, “wear clothes.”

“I’m mer, though,” said Peter, confused. Even more confused when Wade, trailing after them, began laughing.

“You are in human form, in human lands, and you need to dress like a human,” the woman said. She leaned close to him and whispered, “And there are Hunters on these streets. Dressing like a human will help throw them off.”

Peter shuddered. Hunters had gotten his uncle. He went along without protest.

“You going to introduce yourself Ness?” asked Wade

“Vanessa,” said the woman curtly.

“Peter.” The reply was just as curt and quick and he held his hand out like Wade had when the two of them were introduced. The woman shook it before leading him to a room filled with clothes. “Why do most of these have ruffles?” he asked curiously as he poked one item that looked like it was made entirely of ruffled cloth.

“For a different kind of hunting,” Vanessa replied, clearly amused. Behind them, Wade choked.

***

“Please, calm down,” Steve gently ordered the agitated mer in front of him. The elderly mer was twitching in a nervous manner that meant she was torn between attack, flee, and submit. Not many mer got to that part.

“You didn’t tell him the truth,” she accused, her eyes twitching between Steve and his mate.

“I told him the truth,” Steve said calmly. “He is a strong tadpole, with a good heart. I firmly believe that, out of all those we sent, he is the most likely one to bring us peace.” He didn’t add that Peter was the only one, the only mer that he knew, who was capable of looking into the eyes of a creature and seeing that creature’s soul. And that, having seen the soul, could love it no matter how horrific a creature it was.

Steve did not know if this ability was due to the tadpole’s power. A Singer hadn’t been born to the mer in so long that all anyone knew were myths and legends. Legends of great power, of civilizations created and destroyed by whims—they were even rumored to have had the ability to create new life out of nothing more than a song. Because of those legends, the young mer was outcast among his peers, tossed aside by his parents. But his aunt, his uncle—two mer who had so, so desperately wanted a child had taken him in, and raised him as though he was their very own. And the tadpole had responded by growing into a bright, vibrant, and curious mer. True, by mer standards he was not very strong—but he was smart. He was clever. He could use his power to make up for his weaknesses.

In sad truth the hardest part of deciding who to send had come down to who was clamoring for a chance to go that hated the young mer the least. Despite his humble approaches, despite his powers and abilities, he had a shocking power to create resentment and enmity among the mer. Perhaps it would be different among the humans.

“You didn’t tell him about the blood beasts!” the mer shrieked. Fish around them hid and rocks cracked.

“What blood beasts?” asked Steve, honestly confused. He’d thought they’d died out long ago, when they were banished from all the Seas and Oceans.

“I heard it,” whispered the mer. Tears pooling in her eyes had already gained the opalescent sheen of a forming pearl. “I heard his magic touch them.”

Steve’s heart seized. “What else did you hear?” he demanded of her. Had he sent the youngest, most naive of his people to a trap?

She shook her head. “I heard him use his power on not one, but two blood beasts. And—and I have heard nothing since.”

Bucky, cupping the bulge of the egg within him, swum quickly between the two of them and laid his other arm around her shoulders, as comforting as possible given that she’d been barren before her mate had passed and was unlikely to even attempt to get another one. “We didn’t know about the blood beasts,” he told her firmly. “We gave them a communication crystal.”

“You think they’ll let Peter use it?” snarled the mer.

“They will if I order them too,” replied Steve firmly. The mer hesitated, then nodded before swimming away. Bucky leaned back, secure in the knowledge that Steve would be there to catch him. “Do you think he’ll be all right?” Steve asked as he cradled his mate.

“I think he has the greatest chance of surviving an encounter with blood beasts,” Bucky replied firmly.

They both knew it wasn’t an answer.

***

Peter, having lived most of his life in the depths and only going out into the light to gather food, was fascinated by the different colors that the light turned as the sun set. Colors he’d never seen before—or even had words for!

“What is the name of those colors in the sky?” Peter asked Wade as he pointed up. He was currently carrying huge, rough bags of clothes that the woman—Vanessa—had insisted he take with him as he left and was wearing an outfit of loose pants that tied at the waist with a thin, soft rope and a large shirt that hung over one shoulder (he’d been told it was supposed to, and a lot of Vanessa’s friends seemed to wear their shirts like that).

“Which ones?” asked Wade looking up. He was carrying the food they’d gotten. He winced. “White’s right; stupid question. Well Baby Boy, the clouds are a bright pink—shut up furball, I don’t know the name of the shade—the sky behind them is orange, and the sky above them is purple. Or dark blue. Or dark blue-purple—come to think of it; I don’t know what that color is called. Huh.” The man sounded surprisingly pleased to note he didn’t know the color and turned a grin towards Peter.

Peter grinned back, watching the play of the light against the lively face beside him. The human he was with didn’t seem to be like the other humans—more like a mer that happened to have two feet. Peter found him to be endearing. And—best of all—the human didn’t hate or resent him.

He could remember far too many times when he’d been ordered to do impossible things. “Heal this wound.” “Kill that beast.” “Bring back the dead.” And every time he’d said he couldn't, they’d hated him more. After all, the Singers were supposed to be able to. What was wrong with Peter?

What was wrong was that Peter was the only Singer. He knew how to do basic things with his power like clean or find food (only plants though—he couldn't bear the thought of eating another creature). That was all he knew how to do, all he’d figured out how to do. The mer had no centralized place where learning was stored (he’d learned that humans called it a library). There was no one living who had ever even seen a Singer before Peter was born. All that considered—Peter thought he was actually doing really well.

Back at Wade’s room the setting sun made beautiful colors on the walls. More of that orange (which was nothing like the orange Peter was familiar with, nothing like the orange of fish), a little bit of pink, and an odd dark color that was both blue and purple, almost like the depths of the sea where he and his aunt lived. It was wonderful. He loved the way the light played on the walls, on the fur of the two beasts before him, and on Wade’s amazingly textured skin.

Wade calmly handed both beasts their buckets of dinner (mostly blood with entrails mixed in for good measure), and then he and Peter sat against the wall, in the fading light, as they ate their own dinners—which was something in a light brown lump. “What is this?” he asked with fascination.

Wade frowned. “You never seen a pastry? No, stupid, of course you haven’t. Can’t bake in the ocean. Give a bite, you’ll love it. I think it’s mushrooms and kelp or some shit. I got beef.”

Peter did as he was told and nearly vibrated apart at the different tastes and textures on his tongue. In the ocean the only two textures were soft and soggy or rubbery and soggy and everything had a strong overtone of salt in it (of course). But this—this was crisp and soft and chewy and the different pieces actually had more textures to them as he chewed. The flavors were indescribable. He had nothing to compare them to. “’s good!” Peter mumbled around his mouthful.

Wade chuckled. “Of course it is,” he said warmly. “Weasel’s a lot of things—but he’s also a damn good cook.” He laughed at something else, and Peter thought it might be something one of the beasts said to him. He didn’t ask; just basked in the happy sound.

The two of them finished their food in the relative silence (for Peter) of the two beasts guzzling down their buckets. When Wade finished he stood up and Peter stared at the play of light and shadows on his body. “Can I—” he started. He stopped. He didn’t know enough about humans to know if what he was about to ask was okay or if it would cause a diplomatic incident.

“What?” asked Wade, half turning, partially silhouetted in the fading light.

Desire overrode caution and Peter felt himself almost pulled to his feet as he looked at the textured skin before him. “Can I—can I touch?” he asked breathily.

Wade stared at him with wide eyes and Peter flinched back. He didn’t want to upset his host, after all. Wade swallowed hard and said, “Yeah. Yeah, you can touch.”

Hesitantly, Peter rested a hand on Wade’s arm. Fascinated by the different textures—soft, rough, smooth, hard—he rubbed his hand along the skin. He barely noticed as he ripped into Wade’s shirt moving over the muscles, feeling them bunch and tremble beneath his hands.

Suddenly Wade’s hand came up and grabbed both of his wrists—gently. Far more gently than Peter knew he could move. “Peter,” said the man huskily, “if you keep going—you’re going to start something.”

“What?” asked Peter, eyes wide looking up into the shadowed face above him. Wondering what the other man saw.

The man swallowed. “Like—sex things. Mating things, White says.”

Peter thought about it for a moment. He knew that mer and humans could mate each other. It had happened before, although it wasn’t openly spoken of. And he knew that none of the other mer drew him like the human in front of him did. But—mating meant—that. Did he want that with Wade?

Yes, Peter decided quickly as he raised himself up for a kiss. He most certainly did.

Wade kissed him back, tongue (just as textured as his skin) ruthlessly plundering Peter’s mouth as his hands roamed over Peter’s body eliciting warm chills wherever their skin touched. Peter wanted more. He pulled Wade closer to him, grinding their bodies together and broke away to look down, puzzled. How did humans mate? He was in human form, as Vanessa had said, and he thought they should mate like humans—but how to do it?

Wade silently pushed both sets of pants down leaving them standing in the dim room, completely bare to each other. The human stopped, and stared as he breathed heavily. Peter’s hands began to roam again over the plains of the human’s back and Wade pulled him into another kiss as Peter’s hands roamed lower. He brought them forward and hit the expected erection—but there was smooth(ish) skin where he expected to encounter folds. “Huh,” he said.

“What?” asked Wade.

“We’re different,” Peter explained as he brought one of Wade’s hands around to feel the glistening folds under his own erection.

“We need to lie down.” Wade said firmly as he gently led Peter to the bed. “Can I—is it okay if I lick down here?” he asked.

“Sure, but why? Oh!” Peter gasped as the rough tongue probed the delicate folds and reached inwards. It went deep—deeper than anything. It reached and reached, stoking an insane fire in his groin—and stopped as Wade pulled away.

“Peter,” Wade gasped as he looked in the darkness at the form beneath him. Peter wondered how much the human eyes could see. “Can I—can I enter you?”

Peter reached up and pulled the human closer. “Yes,” he said firmly as Wade’s own erection lined up with his folds, trapping Peter’s erection between them as he slammed home. Peter gasped as orgasm forced seed out of him—and seed within him. He felt the merging all mer did when they met their Mate and felt the moment fertility was achieved. And then the two lay, in the darkness, as sleep overtook both of them.

***

[Can you hear me? Singer? I felt your souls mesh.]

{He can hear us? Really? What am I saying?}

Peter opened his eyes to look at the two snouts in his face. His body was tucked up into and partially under Wade’s. “What?” he asked, confused. He’d never heard of this—but then a mer had never mated a human with bond beasts before, either.

[You can hear us. Good. Wake the idiot. We have a lot to talk about and not a lot of time.]

Puzzled Peter reached out. “Wade? Wade, wake up.”

Wade groaned and pressed his head to Peter’s back, mumbling something and making his skin tingle. Peter ignored the shivers running through him and gently shook the human. The human smacked his lips and licked the exposed skin sending shivers through Peter. He hummed and did again.

“Wade!” Peter nearly shrieked. He wasn’t above starting those lovely activities again, but it seemed to him that White needed to talk to them.

“Hmm hmm what?” said Wade finally waking up.

[Finally. You’ve gotten too used to tuning us out.]

{Yes Wade. That’s very very rude. Peter! Pets!} Yellow thrust himself under Peter’s hands and Peter obliged as Wade suddenly sat up.

“What?” said Wade again, staring through the darkness at his beasts. Peter helped him sit up on the bed so they could face White as Yellow whimpered and wordlessly begged for more affection.

[I told the Singer to wake you up. We do not have much time left, and there is much you need to know.]

“What do you mean?” asked Peter.

“You can hear him?” demanded Wade in shock.

[Of course he can hear us, you idiot.] White lifted its lips from its fangs in a silent growl. [When mer mate they share souls. We are bound to your soul, and now to his as well.]

{Good thing, good thing. More pets please.}

Wade watched, stunned, as Peter obliged. Suddenly he swallowed. “I didn’t—I didn’t mean to shackle you,” he whispered.

Peter smiled. His poor mate. The human really didn’t understand mer very well, did he? “You didn’t,” he assured Wade, shifting to curl into the human’s side.

[That’s very nice.] White’s voice may have said it was nice, but his tone did not. [But all of that is outside the point. Wade, as mate to the current world’s only Singer, there are things you need to know. Singer, Wade is a brash, outspoken, immature moron, but he is the best you could possibly do out of these humans.]

“I can’t tell if I should be insulted,” grumbled Wade. Peter lifted a hand from Yellow to gently squeeze Wade’s hand as Yellow lifted its head and took a dainty bite from Wade’s side before Peter started petting him again.

White ignored them. [Once, long ago, the world had two clans. There was the Carry Clan and the Power Clan. The Carriers had the ability to allow the power of the world to flow through them, not touching them, but allowing them to see the world in a new way. The Power Clan could use the power, diverting it and changing its shape. All lived in peace—until a great Cataclysm rocked the very foundations of the world.]

Peter could feel Wade frown. “I’ve never heard of a cataclysm,” he protested.

“I have,” Peter said thoughtfully. “But—only in the most distant of legends, mostly forgotten.”

White bowed its head. [It was—a long time ago. But it tore the world into two parts—that of land, and that of water, and the people were not equipped to survive either. The Power Clan did not know which of the two would provide the greatest chance of survival, and so they divided. Half of the Power Clan used their power to turn their half of the people into Humans with the Power Clan with them turning to Mages, while the other half turned theirs into Mer and their Power Clan turning into Singers.]

“So—humans and mer were originally the same species?” Wade asked. “Then why…” His voice trailed off as his gaze dropped towards Peter’s groin.

White sneezed. [I don’t know; maybe it was a fetish. Stop interrupting. The mer moved into the sea—and met the kraken.]

“Kraken,” Peter said solemnly, “are huge beasts. They’re like a cross between a squid and an octopus, and they hunt in the depths.” He’d been ordered to kill a few. He hadn’t been able to—although he had been able to make them leave.

[Yes. And the mer—were not prepared. There had been no predators larger than them before the Cataclysm. The Singers did their best—but all they could do was banish the kraken.]

Peter privately wondered if they’d ever really needed to. He remembered the kraken he’d dealt with, that he’d convinced to leave. Perhaps they were the same?

[The Singer Loki decided mer needed more power, and a place to retreat to, so against the wishes of his king, he altered the mer. Thanks to his efforts every mer born can alter their form to walk on land, should the need arise. However, this led to the Singer being Outcast while with egg. He needed a place to hide. A place to grow the tadpoles forming within him. He needed protection. He created us, and named us Impulse] a nod towards Yellow still on Peter’s lap [and Memory.] White bowed its own head for a moment.

“The Singer could create life?” asked Peter with wonder.

Despite having no pupils or irises, the beast with its glowing eyes gave the impression of rolling them. [No more than any other mer. Or human, for that matter. We were taken from what we were and changed for his needs—and loneliness.]

Peter felt his heart ache for the ancient mer who had died long ago. Mer needed to be around people, to talk and to laugh, to feel the warmth of embrace from those around them. He could only imagine how crippling the loneliness had been.

[While he was holed up in his cave, practicing his arts and preparing for the eggs, the kraken once again attacked. Their greatest warrior, his mate, forsook the kingdom and swam out in search. By the time he found his mate, our Master, he was almost insane from the solitude. The mate’s presence eased the way quite a bit, and soon the four of us watched the eggs as the mate and the two of us took turns hunting to keep Loki fed. When the tadpoles hatched, the six of us were happy.]

[However, the king of the mer was not. He resented Loki for taking their strongest warrior, even though he knew the two were mated, and had exiled Loki in his mate’s absence. He led a raid on the cave, killed Loki’s mate, and slaughtered the tadpoles.]

Peter gasped, eyes wide. How? How had a king dared to hurt the tadpoles? All life was precious! He barely noticed that both Yellow and Wade were growling.

[Loki went insane. He saw the murder of his mate, the murder of his tadpoles, and saw the mer warriors coming for us, the last of his creations. The last of his children. He Sang a change in us, making us crave blood, giving us strength, and the ability to heal. We slaughtered them all—but our Master had changed. He was Corrupted. There was—nothing we could do.]

Wade wrapped an arm around Peter. “Why are you telling us this now?” he asked.

[Peter is the last Singer. The only Singer. There will soon be a time when he must make a decision to remain as he is, to elevate himself, or to be Corrupted. I do not know which you will choose, but I wanted you to know what your decision will mean.]

“But—I don’t know how!” Peter protested, panicking.

[It is instinctual. When it happens, you will know. Do not stress.]

“Thank you, White,” Peter whispered.

Wade wrapped an arm around Peter, his side already healed as Yellow chewed its meat. “Nothing will happen,” he said firmly. “I’m here to protect you.”

Peter grinned and leaned in for a kiss. “I know you are.”

***

Flash stared at the small mer in shock. Like all mer, he could see the binding of a mating. “You—mated a human?” he demanded harshly staring at the tall human behind the mer.

If Peter had to mate a human, Flash really doubted that the young mer could have picked a better one. Tall, broad, and clearly strong the human almost looked like a mer himself. But still.

While they’d still been in the sea, Peter would have ducked his head and swum away at the earliest opportunity. Here, on land and with his mate beside him, the young mer simply took his mate’s hand in his own and met Flash’s eyes squarely and answered without hesitation. “Yes,” he said firmly.

Flash nodded. “Well, Human,” he growled at the strange human, “come. King Steve wishes to speak with Peter through the Crystal, and might as well speak to his mate at the same time.” He got behind the two of them as he watched the human warily.

Humans were tricky, manipulative creatures. They could easily switch from being friendly to being enemies and Flash didn’t know how to gauge them. Mer were simply by comparison—if a mer liked someone they liked someone and none of that pretending. Flash supposed that it was possible for the human to have tricked Peter into mating him somehow—but he didn’t know how that would be.

At least he’d been briefed on the two beasts that were with the two of them. Blood beasts. Rumors still filled tadpoles with night terrors as their older siblings whispered them. Perhaps the rumors were exaggerated—but, given the way the humans gave the two beasts a wide berth, perhaps not. He eyed them warily.

The white one turned its head to look at him without missing a step, and very carefully, very obviously, winked.

Flash stumbled and almost fell. Fortunately, neither the mer nor the human in front of him noticed. He was going to have to reassess the beasts; not once, in any of the tales he’d heard, was it mentioned that they were smart.

Inside the building was a room they’d set the Crystal up in. It was on a stool, with a cushion underneath it to prevent the perfectly round surface from rolling off and breaking. As they approached the image of their King appeared within it. “Ah, Peter,” their monarch said. “I see—you’ve mated?”

Peter nodded, his hands never having let go of his mate. A gentle tug pulled the human forwards. “This is Wade,” he said, voice proud and soft.

Flash blinked. This was a new side of Peter. This wasn’t the young, cowardly mer who refused to hunt even to drive monsters away—this was someone new. Perhaps all Peter had needed to properly settle down to his life was a mate. Shame though; while mer could walk on land, humans could not swim under the sea.

“Well done. Have you—”

An explosion took down most of the building around them knocking the Crystal off the stool and shattering it against the hard floor.

***

Francis grinned. What luck! Most of the mer were ugly, horrid bastards, but the one he’d been tracing was there. And knocked unconscious! He didn’t have to waste any of that medicine. It was expensive. He and his assistant grabbed the mer and hauled it out of t he building as he planned the auction that would land them far across the sea.

***

[Those bastards!]

{Where’s Peter? Where is he?}

[We will kill them.]

“Damn straight,” growled Wade as he sat up. The woman bending over him shrieked and flailed backwards.

“About what?” demanded a voice. Wade and the three blood beasts turned, identical growls in their throats, to see King Stark’s spymaster, Tasha. Instead of her decadent court gown she was wearing the same kind of clothes that sailors wore working long stretches on the ocean.

“We will kill the fuckers,” Wade growled as he worked his way to his feet, “who took Peter.”

“Peter.” She blinked for a moment. “The mer staying with you?” Her eyes tracked to the beasts, who had healed quicker and were shaking themselves free of debris.

{I miss Peter. He could get us clean.}

[We will find him. And we will kill them.]

Wade growled an assent as the beasts cast around for the scent of the Singer. Of Wade’s mate.

Tasha went to stop him when a heavy hand landed on her shoulder and she looked up into the eyes of the magician. “Let them go,” he advised calmly, eyes searching the air as he performed divination on the dust forming in it. “It is all in their hands now.”

***

Peter’s eyes slowly fluttered as he tried to open them, or to get his body to work, period. “Look at that, Angel,” a voice said. A rough hand gripped his chin and forced his head up, making it pound even as his skin crawled from the sensation. “See? He’s still lively.”

“He’ll fetch a good price,” agreed a second voice, a feminine one. There was something—odd about it. Flat, almost. After a moment Peter realized what was wrong—there was no emotion in her voice.

He squinted to try to see them, eyesight still blurry. “Who—are you?” he asked.

His head was slammed into a hard surface making stars dance behind his eyes. “You don’t get to speak,” the man growled. “At least, not unless your new owners want to hear you beg.”

Owners? Peter—was going to be sold? He tried to force his brain to clear, to force his mind to work.

Peter was one of the ambassadors from the merfolk kingdom. Wade, his mate, worked for the human one. If anything happened to him it would mean war—his people being pit against each other as he had no doubt that his mate would do everything he was asked within the best of his abilities—even if that meant killing merfolk. The war would be bloody—the merfolk warriors were the best of their kind, tempered against the monsters of the deep—but Wade healed impossibly quickly. They would tear each other apart and he knew, knew his mate would be bleeding on the inside, impossible to heal.

No.

[There will soon be a time when he must make a decision to remain as he is, to elevate himself, or to be Corrupted.]

“The Singer could create life?”

[No more than any other mer.]

But—the singer had been able to change life—to alter it to a shape he needed.

White was right. Now that he was faced with it, now that he had an egg and a mate to protect, Peter knew exactly what to do. He opened his mouth and a single, pure tone rang in the air.

***

The air shivered, dust rising off the ground as people screamed and ran for their lives. “What is this?” demanded Wade as he pressed on, forcing himself through the crowd that seemed to determined to keep him from his mate. From Peter.

[He’s singing!]

{Oh! This is why you didn’t want to corrupt him!} Yellow absently bit a man’s hand off as he ran.

“Dammit Yellow!” growled Wade as he stopped to tie something around the wrist to keep the man from bleeding to death. “I told you to stop that!”

[We are losing time. The Singer is calling!]

“I’m going as fast as I can!”

[You are not.]

“How am I supposed to go faster?”

[Stop. Search yourself for the tie to your mate. Feel it in your soul. And pull.]

Wade, not entirely sure why he obeyed, closed his eyes. He could feel the tie. Now that he was looking for it, he could sense the rage and desperate need to protect swirling through Peter. He reached for it—pulled—

“Wade, look out!” He ducked as wooden club swung through the space where his head had been.

“If it isn’t the scarred one,” growled the man behind the club.

“Francis! Haven’t seen you since you tossed me in that pit and left me to die,” Wade commented as he circled the man. His blood boiled when he saw Peter.

The young mer’s legs had been tied together into a grim approximation of a tail and his arms tied behind his back. His face was bruised, scraped, and bleeding. Wade growled.

“Oh, you don’t like him? Too bad, my customers prefer them this way!” He lunged. Wade, distracted as he was, didn’t catch the blow in time. It sunk into his head. He felt, more than heard the scream.

[Call us! Call for us, Singer!]

Wade watched a single pure tone echoed into the air—for a moment before Francis slammed his club into Peter’s side. “None of that,” ordered the man.

The damage was done. Yellow landed on the man’s back and delivered a paralyzing blow to the back of the neck before proceeding to eat the evil man—feet first. White, quickly behind, growled and killed someone that Wade, still healing, couldn't see. He heard the snapping of teeth, the popping of bindings being snapped, and suddenly he was cradled in the lap of his mate with small, hard things bouncing off his face.

He crinkled his face as soon as he could. “What are you doing?” he asked looking up and seeing—pearls? Falling on him?

“Wade!” Peter pulled him close, moving his entire body, and cried more pearls which rolled off onto the rubble filled floor. “You’re alive!” he said with clear relief.

Wade smiled and reached for his mate. “I’m not that easy to kill, Peter,” he said warmly.

***

Several weeks later the two of them stood on the shore of the beach. “Are you sure?” Peter asked gently before they went into the water.

Wade ignored the way the rocks cut into the bottoms of his feet as he grinned at his mer-mate. “With you? Always,” he said.

{I want to have white spots!}

[Shut up!]

Peter giggled and Sang a change. He caught his mate as the human toppled over on his sudden tail. White and Yellow lost their fur, gained gills and elaborate fins, and were ready to get into the water again for the first time in hundreds of years, if White was to be believed. Peter changed himself and the four dove into the water and he helped Wade learn how to use his thick, powerful tail for swimming before they headed towards the ocean.

It was time for the Laying ceremony as the entire sea watched with bated breath as their King’s mate went to the spawning ground to lay his eggs. As the (only) human mated to an ambassador, Wade had been invited as well, and Peter was the only one who was capable of making sure he could make the trip into the depths without dying.

{Look! SPOTS!} Yellow swam, craning its neck to see the beautiful white spots decorating his fins.

After a few tries, Wade figured out how to speak underwater. “So,” he managed with a pointed look at Peter’s rounding belly, “will you be visiting the spawning ground, or giving birth on land?”

Peter swum around his mate, entwining their tails together as he smiled. “That depends,” he said.

“On?”

“On whether we prefer mating in the sea or on land.”

#Spider-Man #Deadpool #Spideypool #mermay2021 #mermaid Peter Parker

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widowsofchaos · 4 years

Text

The Wolf, The Widow, & Their Angel

Writing’s Game created by the baddest, Roo! @darkficsyouneveraskedfor *screams like a feral banshee* tHe BaDDesT BiTcH sHE iS!

~my given prompt~

Pairing: dark!BuckyNat x black!Reader

Summary: You start to dissociate looking through windows, and it concerns your captors.

Warnings: ddlg relationship, forced age regression, mentions of spanking, water sports, and kidnapping, eventual Stockholm syndrome. a dash of yandere behavior.

a/n: hiii, so glad im finally into the swing of writing, and I really wanted to dive into this writing challenge made by Roo! Trope: Snowed In // Item/Location: Windows. Seems really fun, and gives a chance for people to explore different kinks and scenarios given to them! So I hope you enjoy! There has been things changed for sake of the story, like cause fuck canon sometimes, right? Muahaha💋

do not repost my works!

Snowflakes hit against the windows, sounding like tiny BB bullets as the bellowing winds harshly beats against the bullet-proof glass.

Ever-growing thick piles of snow surrounded the Avengers compound, as New York City is under attack by one of the worst snow-storms the city has ever endured in years.

Airports are temporarily shut-down, so are local businesses, the streets deserted with no sign of life. Nature’s cold wrath forces citizens to self-quarantine, and celebrate Christmas indoors, snowed in for perhaps a few weeks.

So much for your grand escape.

Six months you have been held captive, and forced to prance around like a living doll. A toy to satiate your captors’ sexual appetites and deep-rooted needs to protect ‘an innocent angel like yourself.’ As you sit here on the cold floor of the living room, battling boredom, and your solemn thoughts, mindlessly chewing on the pink paci in your mouth, you didn’t hear one of your captors and one of their accomplices walk in.

Fidgeting in your white onesie that had multiple crayon drawn rainbows printed on it, as you try to find some comfort - your buttocks still stung from this morning’s spanking. Your coco-brown buttocks peaking from your onesie, your diaper peaking from the edges, deep purple and yellow bruises painting your skin were apparent. That’s the abuse a metal prosthetic can inflict.

Your bronze skin now shiny with lotion to soothe the burgundy raw welts. You can barely sit still, rocking back and forth to relieve some tension. Sniffling trying to zone out in your mind.

Your hair was in two split curly pigtails, each split of massive hair clipped with two pink bows. Your index finger twirling in your chocolate curls, as the other hand was toying with the fabric of your white booties, with tears in your eyes, trying to imagine time spent with your real family.

Are they okay? Do they miss you? Have they been searching for you?

You can still recall the day you were kidnapped, it was a blur, it was so quick,

As the two perpetrators waltz silently towards you, as your back facing them, suddenly one of them playfully pull on your pigtails.You gasp, your eyes wide as saucers, as your mouth opened, your paci fell on your lap. Your day-dreaming shattered, as if you were high in the clouds then held by the calf and dragged right back to reality.

“Hey baby.” A husky velvety voice spoke against your ear, your heart hammering harshly against your chest. It’s him, the former Winter Soldier, his close companions call him Bucky, but you’re forced to call him daddy.

“Uncle Steve told me that you have been sitting here for hours” he brought his thumb to wipe away a tear you didn’t realize began to fall. You glanced over your shoulder to see Steve standing by the door-way smiling adoringly at the sight of a daddy and his baby, leaning against the door frame, with his strong hands stuffed in his jean pockets.

You felt menacing cerulean blue eyes burn a hole in your skull, Bucky couldn’t pull his eyes away from yours even if he tried. To him, you were perfect. You were a gift from God, an angel sent to ease his burdens along side his wife, Natasha. You couldn’t bare looking into his eyes, too intense, too suffocating. A flash of affection beamed across his eyes.

You whined, shuffling as best as you could away from your captor, “Baby, you dropped your paci.” Bucky plucked your pacificer from the floor, bringing towards your chapped lips, “Now it’s dirty, my sweet baby can’t have a dirty paci ...” he trailed off, the rims of your eyes slightly red, glossy from the forthcoming droplets.

He knows why you’ve been crying, he had to punish you this morning. You were trying to act like a big girl, and refused to be bathed, insisting you can clean yourself as an adult.

A smirk slowly crept on Bucky’s bearded face, he noticed you was leaning forward, preventing any bodily pressure to increase on your sore ass. “Is my baby’s cute ass sore?” His nose brushed against your cheek, a guttural moan vibrated in his throat, inhaling your scent; his hot breath fanning over your tear-stained face.

His pink lips hairs away from yours, growing agitated that you didn’t respond, he gripped one of your pigtails with his flesh hand.

You yelped in pain, your button nose scrunched, brows furrowed deeply; the prickly pins and needles sensation scorching throughout your scalp, as Bucky held your hair in a death clutch. “Answer your daddy! Is my baby’s cute ass sore?!” Bucky snarls like a beast.

You choked back a sob, forced to look into his cerulean blue eyes, clouded by grey storm clouds. His pupils dilated, his nose flared, not to further infuriate the former soldier, “Ye-yes, daddy -” your throat tightened in fear, “my butt is sore.” Satisfied that you answered sweetly, Bucky relinquished his hand, kissing away your tears with feathery pecks, “Don’t cry, my angel.” His voice lowered softly.

His stubble tickled you, but you resisted a chuckle in your throat along with your untamed bile, he shushed you, “Don’t cry, baby. Daddy’s sorry he had to get loud.” Bucky cooed, talking to you like you were a toddler.

Your sobs quieted down, now simmering to hiccups, as he pulled you flushed against his broad chest. Even when he cradled you, his physicality reminded you, that you can’t escape.

Bucky is at least, two hundred pounds lean, built into massive biceps, and sculpted abs. You can’t fight him, nor her. Natasha’s physique is slender, but she’s toned.

Enquiped to defeat any enemy, a master in trickery and slealth, able to disappear within thin air like her husband ... many have fallen for sadly mistaken the Russian for beauty over brains ... don’t underestimate the former assassin. You already learned your lesson.

Your delicate fingers gripped his red Henley shirt, the cotton fiber bunching between your brown fingers, as you whimpered, your cheek squished against his frame.

Bucky sported a smug smirk on his stubbled jaw, glancing to his oldest best friend. A chuckle was breathed out of Steve’s nose, knowing the breaking down method was slowly progressing.

Steve knows that this is what Bucky, and Natasha needs in their life. Something innocent to protect, the couple hasn’t had a pure light in their life for years, so it’s understandable that for the first time they encountered you, they had to have you.

It was fate.

Indeed the meticulous harsh punishments was working. No matter how hard you tried to fight back, and resist the urges to succumb to their sexual pleasures, your mind was betraying you.

There has been moments of your compliance, calling everyone by their designated names. Natasha as your mommy, Bucky as your daddy, and the rest of the Avengers as your uncles and aunt. Letting your uncles and aunt baby you, feed you, play with you, and punish you if needed too.

Let’s just say, the punishments were just as equally barbarous. Wall-seats, harsh spanking, knees on raw rice, gas lighting, slight choking, knees resting on raw rice, electrical nipple clamps as your head will be dunked in water, that’s Bucky’s go-to if his patience runs dry.

And a few slaps here and there if you cuss everybody out.

Natasha’s favorite is clit cream, it causes severe itching on your pussy, you would rub your mound on any solid surface to relieve yourself to the point of your vagina being raw, and irritated.

How does the sadistic couple help the itching and burning stop? Take turns squirting their piss directly on your clit.

Shame and humiliation has become your constant demons.

Bucky’s red shirt had a strong but subtle smell of mint, and oak. You rubbed your nose into the shirt, it’s calming your frightened senses, as numerous flashbacks of pain came flooding your shattered mind.

“Awh my baby, loves holding her daddy.” Bucky spoke into your brushed curls, you didn’t realize you were practically clinging to Bucky like a baby kola. Bucky nuzzled his nose into your curls, his eyes closed, relishing in this rare moment.

Bucky’s strong biceps slithered around your petite waist, you involuntarily clutching your arms around his neck for support. His open palms calmly rubbed circles under your thighs, but close to your painful bruises.

You flinch at the close proximity of his fingertips grazing your abused flesh. It was his reminder of how quickly his temper can switch.

Don’t misbehave.

You prefer to seek his approval, to fall on his good graces.

“D-daddy?” you crooked into his now tear-stained shirt, the dampened spots now a deeper shade of red, you sniffled, scared to look him in the eye, “Yes baby?” Bucky’s smirked.

“I wanna look at the windows more. The snowflakes are pretty.” You hated how your voice was trembling, and trailing into little space.

You’re conversing with Bucky as if you were a toddler. One discovery you stumbled on during this ordeal is that deep inside the crevasse of your mind, there’s a little girl.

Sub-space, or little space ... you knew you had it, which in turn, helped you adapt to your new environment from time to time. Catching yourself enjoying being pampered, no longer being burdened by of the problems that come with being an adult. No longer do you work, you hated your office job. You gracefully fall into a space of hazy clouds.

Bucky’s brows furrowed, a bit befuddled, as his eyes pleaded with Steve’s, who in return shook his head, no.

Steve brought this new found habit of yours up to Bucky and Natasha earlier, whenever you were punished, you hide away to look out the windows.

Steve realized that you were probably dissociating. That worried everybody, it means you were suffering from not accepting your new life, clinging onto your old one, and if you’re in pain, Bucky and Natasha are in pain.

You’re more than their little girl, you’re their missing third. Their companion, their angel, and even if you rebuke it, your best friends. Many occurrences, Nat and Bucky has confided to you about their dark pasts, revealing secrets not even their close team mates are aware of.

To gain your trust, and your sympathy, to show despite their cruel punishments, they are broken humans emotionally dependent on you. In any bond between lovers, that’s your best friend.

Out of love — tough love, but love nonetheless.

Bucky’s lip formed into a thin-line, “No, baby. Uncle Steve told me you do this a lot, you know he’s worried about you? So is everybody else, you haven’t even eaten since this morning” Bucky’s voice got stern, but it was contrast to his facial features softening. His brows now slanted in-ward, demonstrating his distress.

It’s the truth, you’re co-dependent on bullet-proof glass. You can observe the outside world. It helps you escape to your imaginary getaway. Whatever your heart desires, your brain creates unabashed scenarios of being surrounded by your family, and friends.

But more recently, you imagine poppy fields, sleeping in high-end stocks of flowers — but soon the demons roam in search of you, and the sky darkens.

“No, baby. No more windows. Ever again.” Bucky’s eyes squinted, you gasped. You were ready to beg, plead to stay on the floor just a little while longer, “Now it’s lunch time. I can hear my little angel’s tummy growling.” Bucky patted your belly gingerly, with no hesitation, he scooped you in his arms lifting you in the air.

Instinctively you locked your legs around his waist, your eyes never wavered from the frosty chilled windows. Your body began shaking, choking back pitiful sobs, as you ducked your head in Bucky’s neck.

“Maybe she needs a nap, she’s been crying all day.” Steve recalls hearing you sniffle since this morning, after getting a spanking. Bucky’s thumb rubbed circles into your shoulder blades, cooing you to settle down.

“Yeah, you’re right.” Bucky kissed your scalp, “she’ll feel better when she wakes up.” As the two soldiers discussed about you as if you weren’t present, you just went limp, your legs dangling. If it wasn’t for Bucky’s inhuman strength, you would’ve fallen.

What’s the point in fighting anymore? Your body is worn, and your brain is fried. There’s no escape, for years you thought so highly of the Avengers, but you learned that they were not so righteous.

Steve noticed your eyes were dull, it’s blank. Steve subtly caressed your cheek, as he walked by Bucky’s side. A small lopsided smile curved at your lips, but Steve was still worried.

Finally reaching Bucky’s apartment, Steve helped open the door as Bucky was pre-occupied holding you, “Steve, can you wash her pacifier for me?” Steve nodded, taking the pacifier from Bucky.

As Steve reached the kitchenette, to wash the paci in the sink, Bucky went to your bedroom. A custom made state of the art bedroom, the walls covered in white wallpaper with multiple printed teddy bears. Fuzzy pink carpeting, stuffies galore spilling out of the bin, toys ranging from blocks, puzzles, coloring books, barbies -- you name it, they spoiled you.

Bucky cooed in your ear sweetly as he laid you down in your custom crib, the plush mattress welcomed your body. You whined a bit, a few tears falling, “Hush, baby, it’s okay. Uncle Stevie is bringing your paci.” Bucky caressed your arms, and face trying to cal, your nerves.

Your eyes were droopy, mental exhaustion overpowering you, but you were resisting sleep. You started rubbing your eyes, as if you were a restless toddler refusing naptime.

Bucky and Natasha also has been popping sleeping pills, bladder weakening pills and birth control pills in your milk. To set your body on schedule, so you can learn to adapt using a diaper. Fall sleep at proper time during the day.

Steve entered the bedroom, to see Bucky trying to stop you from your agitated state. “She’s fussy.”Steve’s tone was laced with concern, he quickly gave Bucky the paci, and you shut your mouth. “It’s okay, baby. It’s your paci, say ah.” Bucky was trying to persuade you, you hated that you were becoming dependent on it.

You pouted, Bucky sighed. Once again, he had to resort doing it the hard way. Bucky pinched your nose shut, preventing any oxygen, after a few seconds, you had no choice, but to open your mouth for air.

You gasped, and Bucky took advantage, quickly popping the paci in your mouth, shutting your mouth with his palms. You whined, as Bucky kissed your forehead. Bucky tucked you in, “I love you, angel.” With that Bucky and Steve started leaving the room, turning the light switch off, and closed the door behind them.

Darkness and silence looming over you, your eyes drooped shut, drifting into a dreamless slumber.

***

It’s been over an hour of naptime, and finally Natasha returned from training. She entered the apartment to see Bucky sitting on the couch with his head in his hands. “Bucky, what’s wrong?” He lifted his gaze up, and Nat saw tears in his eyes.

Nat dashed to her husband’s aid, sitting next to him on the couch. “What’s wrong? What happened?” Nat was growing increasingly worried, “Our angel hates me.” Bucky croaked, his voice was hoarse. Natasha pulled Bucky into her arms, Bucky sniffled as he sunk himself into her chest.

“She doesn’t hate you. She’s still learning.”

“You didn’t see the fear in her eyes today. Her eyes looked dull, as if she wasn’t there. Even Steve saw it.” Bucky wailed in Nat’s arms. “It’s okay, she’s not broken. It’s not a quick procedure to get our angel. She will realize this is what’s good for her.”

“I just want her to be happy with us.”

“I know, Bucky. Me too.” Natasha kissed his head.

What Natasha didn’t realize was that you heard their conversation, as you awoke from your nap.

***

Was life with these people really that hard? They spoil you to no end. Yes, their choice of punishments aren’t ordeal, but after punishments they soothed you as if you were the most fragile treasure in the world. Can you learn to love them? Perhaps. Do you feel bad for them hurting? A little, and that’s what scares you.

You care, and it’s been bothering you.

For weeks, your hatred towards the Avengers has been simmering down. You did enjoy no longer having responsibilities, enjoying little space, you were slipping into the headspace more and more.

As thoughts were swirling in your mind like angry bees, the door opened, you quickly closed your eyes again. The light turned on, and their footsteps sounded quiet, not wanting to disturb your sleep, towards your massive crib.

Natasha and Bucky were hovering over you, watching you sleep, as if it’s their favorite view. So obsessed with you, vowing to kill anyone who will try to take you away from them.

Both Nat, and Bucky brought their fingers to your face, caressing your tear-stained cheeks. It was like this for a few moments, until they slowly shook you awake. Tenderly they coaxed you awake, your eyelids fluttered open.

“Hey pretty girl, time to wake up.” Natasha softly ruffled your curly ponytails. You don’t know what snapped in you, maybe your brain has given up, or maybe it’s the way these two are affectionately staring down at you.

Beyond the misty darkness that clouds their eyes, is love. Moments of good moments of playtime with them, or how they touched you giving you cummies, your body coming alive to their touch, or how your heart ached at their sadness flashed in your mind.

Maybe you do love them.

“Mommy. Daddy.” You mumbled against your paci, you made grabby hands outward to them. Natasha’s and Bucky’s eyes widened, their breaths hitched in their throats. At last, their little girl wants them - on her accord.

Natasha quickly took you out of the crib, holding you in her arms in an air tight hug. Bucky engulfed both of you in a bear hug.

At last.

***

It’s been a few weeks of you being the perfect angel, and quite frankly, you were happy. Stress of freedom slipped away, you were taken cared off. Adulthood was hard on you until Natasha and Bucky took you. It was unorthodox at first, slipping into your old apartment in the dead of the night, but it was worth it.

You were sitting on Bucky’s lap, as he sat on the couch watching cartoons with you. Your back against his chest, Bucky hugging you in his arms, your arm reaching behind his head, as your hand played with his hair. Bucky melts every-time you do that. You were sucking on your paci, and Natasha was in the kitchen preparing dinner.

The peaceful atmosphere was soon disrupted, as an urgent news broadcast flashed on the screen. You whined, and Bucky started looking for the remote to change the channel.

The broadcast flashed a picture of you, explaining that you were still declared missing, and your family was looking for you. Bucky’s whole body froze, as your silence was making him nervous. Natasha slowly peaked her head out from the kitchen.

You were unfazed, but you’re not dumb. You knew you had to reassure them, “Daddy, change the channel! I want cartoons.” You bounced a bit on his lap, to show your bratty impatience. Bucky picked up the remote, and put cartoon network on.

Both Nat’s, and Bucky’s heart fluttered, you didn’t care about your old life anymore. You took your paci out for a moment, and kissed your daddy. “I love you, daddy.” You put the paci back in your mouth, and watched the cartoons.

Bucky had tears in his eyes, and so did Natasha.

Their angel didn’t hate them, their angel loves them, and they love you.

Extra A/N: sorry that this was trash. This was beyond trash, I’m so sorry! This was rushed, and I’m bothered by it.

#buckybarnesplumwhore wrote this #buckynat x reader #dark!bucky x reader #dark!bucky barnes #dark!natasha #dark!natasha x reader #natasha romanoff #bucky barnes #bucky barnes smut #natasha romanoff smut #dark marvel #bucky barnes x black!reader #natasha romanoff x black!reader #one shot

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glarnboudin · 3 years

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Tiratola, the Long-Tailed Terror!

Aliases: the Dragon of Etna, the Serpentine Savior, Our Lady of Flame

Date Discovered: May 20th, 1954

Place of Origin: Mt. Etna

Notable Stomping Grounds: Mt. Etna, Messina, Pisa, Stromboli Kaiju Reserve

Height: Generally holds head around 15 meters above the ground, but can rear up to tower at around 34 meters at her tallest.

Length: 115 meters

Biology:

A prehistoric varanid of enormous size from the same lineage that produced Kraydi, Tiratola brings to mind the dragons of yore, slinking and serpentine and adorned with a crown of fearsome crests and horns. Indeed, her Mediterranean location closely matches with depictions of dragons from the ancient Greeks and Romans, although her demeanor is hardly that of a rapacious devourer of maidens and hoarder of gold.

Rather than her jaws, Tiratola’s primary weapon of choice is her tail - even for a reptile, hers is incredibly long and dexterous, making up more than half of her total body length and as flexible and powerful as the body of any snake. With it, she can lash at targets several hundred feet away, coil and constrict her opponents, and even pick up and hurl objects as big as buildings or handle very small objects with the very tip of the tail like an elephant’s trunk. Indeed, her style of combat is very similar to that of the American kaiju Gorgolisk, preferring to coil and constrict her opponents with her powerful body.

As a kaiju, Tiratola also sports a fairly standard powerset:

Super strength

An enhanced healing factor

Immunity to radiation

She also has one more trick up her sleeve - like many other prehistoric varanids as well as Tyrantis himself, the Terror of Italia sports venom glands within her jaws that she can either ‘chew’ into her opponents or spray like a spitting cobra, and like Tyrantis, this venom has further honed into a flammable compound like something out of the pages of myth and legend.

Of course, comparing Tiratola’s fire spitting with Tyrantis’ flaming breath would be akin to comparing a firecracker with a flamethrower - rather than napalm-like torrents of ignited venom, the enormous reptile’s sprayed venom ignites into a cloud of scalding sparks and embers that explodes outwards in a shotgun-like blast with a loud crack and a blinding flash. While it’s not the best at actually damaging opponents, it still stings and burns quite painfully for targets, especially if hit in the eyes and other sensitive areas, and the sharp rapport of the venom combusting can cause a few seconds of disorientation. Injecting the stuff into the bodies of opponents, however, produces rather more grisly results as it reacts with oxygen in the bloodstream, causing the wounds inflicted by her teeth to burst open a few seconds after she lets go. To a kaiju’s durability and regeneration, it’s not nearly as harmful as it looks unless Tiratola injects a truly immense amount of venom or her opponent is considerably smaller than herself, but it’s still quite painful to experience.

History & Personality:

When the Superquake of ‘54 rocked the world, the actual tremors weren’t the only force behind the resulting destruction - tidal waves lashed the coasts, avalanches and rockslides buried towns, and a number of already-rumbling volcanoes were roused to erupt once more, pushing up not only molten material but all manner of strange new landforms forged from the Yamaneon tunnels beneath the earth. Home to several volcanoes as they are, Greece and Italy were particularly subject to this, disgorging an assortment of subterranean environments alongside quite a number of kaiju. Among them was the great reptile Tiratola - emerging from the volcanic aftermath of Mt. Etna, the serpentine saurian made herself known to the public at large when she swept through the outskirts of Messina and smothered a major fire when she settled herself on top of it for warmth, inadvertently saving much of the city from burning to the ground. In the aftermath of the fire, she would go on to save even more lives as she nosed around the rubble, unearthing nearly two dozen people that had been trapped beneath fallen debris.

Since her awakening, Tiratola has come to roam across Italy and Greece, frequently digging people out of rubble wherever she went and frequently engaging smaller mutants emerging from local Yamaneon tunnels as well as the occasional full-on kaiju - her most famous scuffles include preying upon a hoard of Paleozoic invertebrates that emerged from a Carboniferous swamp in the Greek Kassandra Peninsula and engaging a hulking one-eyed hominid kaiju that had been menacing the city of Taranto, dragging it down to its doom beneath the waves before it could do anything worse than superficial damage to buildings. Aside from an incident involving the Leaning Tower of Pisa, she’s been responsible for relatively little destruction, and has become somewhat of a local hero to the populace of the regions, something that Tiratola has come to notice.

Low to the ground as she is, the Whip-Tailed Terror is by her nature literally closer to human beings than many other kaiju, and is more aware of their activities as a result. She’s come to recognize how people react to her presence and realizes how easily she can reshape the tiny world that she now finds herself in. Were she a more malevolent sort, this awareness and her ability to easily wind through city streets could potentially make her an incredibly dangerous thrat to human beings, but the ultimate result of this is that Tiratola has come to realize that she quite enjoys the attention and praise she gets from acts of heroism. Being a reptile, she is by nature a very energy-efficient creature, conserving her strength when she does need to exert herself… but being a kaiju, acts of aid towards humans are trivially easy for her. A couple sweeps of her tail can smother a major fire beneath dirt and water and pulling people from danger can be easily accomplished by simply pushing her head into, say, a burning building and using her keen senses to locate survivors in the same way that modern varanids break into termite mounds and locate warm chambers to lay their eggs in or mother crocodiles dig out their young from nests. It costs little to the great reptile to lend her aid to others, and the reward for doing so is more than worth it - adoration and cheers whenever she enters a populated area, occasional offerings of fish and other treats, even occasional cleanings by teams of volunteers that scrub her down and aid in peeling off any lingering bits of unshed skin. The latter task has also provided another boon to the people of Greece and Italy - analysis of Tiratola’s shed skin has shed a lot of light on kaiju cellular biology, and the scales themselves are durable enough to be shaped and worked like metal or glass, fostering a small but lucrative industry of decorative items made from the kaiju’s scales.

However, there may also be another reason for her gentleness towards humans - while unearthing survivors from rubble, Tiratola frequently makes vocalizations not unlike those of crocodilian and alligator parents when unearthing their buried young, even scooping them up in her jaws in a similar fashion to carry them to safety. It may be that trapped survivors reminds the the whip-tailed dragon of her own offspring, buried in sand and soil - joint Reptodite-human expeditions into the collapsed tunnels where the kaiju emerged have even found the crystallized remains of ruined nests and cracked eggs, suggesting that she may have produced several clutches of offspring before via parthenogenesis in the same manner as some species of monitor lizard, although none seem to have survived.

Behind the Scenes:

Behold, my entry to @tyrantisterror ’s ATOM Create a Kaiju Contest 3D, Tiratola! I’ve entered both of his previous contests, and I didn’t want to miss out here, although this is admittedly my first time posting one here to Tumblr; there’s a bunch of really creative kaiju already entered into the competition, and I highly recommend checking them out. My entry really isn’t the best by far (I wanted to make Tiratola a lot lengthier and more serpentine, but I didn’t have the space to do it, and I can’t really do detail work for shit), but I’m still reasonably happy with how my girl Tiratola came out!

Tiratola is meant to be an homage to that tried-and-true staple of the monster movie genre - movie companies from other countries trying to cash in on a trend! It’s how the world got creatures like Gorgo, Paleosaurus, and Reptilicus - creatures whose movies were far from the source material, but were packaged as being the same thing in their posters and translated titles overseas, leading to weirdness like Godzilla vs Mothra becoming ‘Watang and the Fabulous Kingdom of Monsters’ in its Italian release, the infamous cut of ‘The Volcano Monsters,’ and so on. As such, she takes the basic concept of Tyrantis - ‘giant green prehistoric reptilian monster with a long tail and horns that breathes fire’, and reconstructs it through that lens. To that end, she’s also somewhat based on slurpasaurs and on cheap rubber props, staples of Italian monster cinema.

Designwise, I based her quite heavily on, well, monitor lizards as well as the classic LEGO dragon model plus the movie poster design for Reptilicus - both are a nice combination of reptilian features that doesn’t really lend itself to any particular order, with Kraydi factoring in as another reference. Indeed, Tiratola’s meant to be a cousin to that kaiju, another of the varanid lizard lineage that would have lead to dragons and their kin in the Lost Epoch - she’s meant to be a bit farther down that evolutionary line than Kraydi is, but still not exactly a direct ancestor.

I was struggling to get a feel for Tiratola’s personality at first, but I managed to get something when I reread ATOM and the way that its reptilian stars think, plus some takes on protective dragons and why they defend humans so much smaller and weaker than they. A big part of this series is about how the kaiju are far more intelligent and empathetic than they let on - I thought it’d be neat to play off of that. While her motivations come from a very different place than they would in a human being or a similar creature, the end result is still the same: if it feels good to help others, and doing so is relatively easy, why not do so? I also added a good deal of Ogra and Reptisaurus as well - I figured it would be only fitting.

The thing about her visiting Pisa is a nod to Dinosaurs Attack, the card where the Rhedosaurus and Giant Behemoth teamed up to destroy the Leaning Tower, while her battle with the giant is taken from the battle between the dragon Taro and the Cyclops in The Seventh Voyage of Sinbad. The date of her discovery is also the date that Reptilicus was released in theaters, albeit moved back a few years.

#tyrantisterror #kaiju #atomic time of monsters #Reptilicus #gorgo #dragons #my crappy art #The ATOM Create a Kaiju Contest 3D #slurpasaur #tiratola #italy #dinosaurs attack #tyrantis

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bittybattybunny · 4 years

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Me writing an Au of my original character’s story cuz I had a “what if” moment

This drawing is also a partial ‘redraw’ of an old Kaya picture

I used one of her older outfit designs for this cuz I wanted to. it’s simple but yeah I hope ya like.

Um but here’s the ficlet (this is a short oneshot AU based on my original story “Nightmare’s Dream” this is an Alternate Universe where her human dad isn’t dead and it’s modern age not ancient like her actual storyline):

“Sir, Miss, this way.”

She turned confused as she heard her father being called. She trailed after, doing her best to keep hunched over as they stepped over the barricade into the crime scene. Her nose burned and she reached to cover it disgusted.

The area was a disaster. Rust colored splothces covered the concrete and pavement. She frowned as she narrowed her eyes as she looked around. Something was bothering her but her dad kept chatting with the police officer.

Gabriel laughed as he tapped his cigarette package and put one in his mouth, lighting the end with magic. His silver hair was slicked back in a thick braid with many smaller braids interwoven. His brown eyes moved to look at the young woman as she was busy looking around. He chuckled.

She kept her hand over her nose as she wrinkled her nose. It was astringent smelling. She could smell blood, urine, feces, metal, rust. It was giving her a headache. There was also now her father’s smoke. She hated the cigarettes he smoked. It made her head fuzzy. She knew he did ti for his safety but it made her eyes spin. She grabbed the man’s sleeve as she frowned.

“Dad… it smells bad… really bad… it’s sharp and stingy,” she stated quietly as she tugged on his sleeve. She chewed her lip with pointed fangs as her gold eyes darted about the rubble. She gripped his sleeve tighter, “There’s a lot of iron and… dad it smells---” she whined as he didn’t respond. He was busy taking notes down. She made a whine in her throat as she put her chin on his shoulder, “Dad--”

“Kaya dear, just put your mask on if it bothers you that much,” Gabriel stated finally. Reaching into the pocket on his long grey coat, he pulled out a black fabric mask. He held the black fabric up to her and she sighed as she hooked it behind her ears, the smell of lavender overpowering her nose. It made her head dizzy but it was better than the bodily fluids and sharp smoke she was smelling. She looked around, her golden eyes wide open as she surveyed the scene. Her eyes flickered to slits momentarily.

The building had exploded from the left side. The sidewalk was littered in broken bodies broken stonework. Even though it was nighttime there weren’t even gawkers or passerbys. She listened and heard no cars and she frowned as she looked at the sky and narrowed her eyes. As she continued to look around something was annoying her and she couldn’t figure it out at first. Something wasn’t sitting right. This whole scene seemed off to her and she was having issues figuring exactly what it was. Was it the smells, was it the lack of noise, was it her father trying to make small talk with the officer? No. Something felt like eyes. Watching. She knew it wasn’t the normal paranoia she dealt with. This was something else. But where? Where was it coming from? She chewed her lip beneath the mask.

Her eyes paused near one piece of carnage. A large block that’d fallen when the building erupted. That was it! She felt a smile on her lips as she jumped past her father to the shock of the police officer who’d been leading them and made use of her large stature to get over the rocks and cement. The belts and buckles on her outfit created a clink and a clank as she moved. Slowling to a stop before the stone she shook her head to center herself. She put her hand to the stone and scowled, furrowing her brow as she growled. This was what was making her annoyed. She knew it. She looked around at the rubble trying to figure what was different. She pulled her mask down and sniffed at it. She retched slightly.

“Dad.” she stood back up looking over at the older gentleman and pointed. She looked back at the stone as her eyes glinted.

“What did you find? Is it something nice?” Gabriel asked as he took the cigarette from his mouth. He tapped the ash from the end with a small smirk on his face. He watched as she raised a gloved hand and large circles lit up, creating a gust of wind, sending her black hair fluttering. The officer gasped at the sight of the young woman using magic.

“I open at the close, the one who seeks my name shall perish in the blinding lights of my unjust rage. That which began will cease and begin once the time clicks forward.” she recited as the wind and circles faded. She frowned under her mask and pulled it down under her chin. She stuck her tongue out while she started to cough. She turned back towards her father and the shocked officer. Bright red markings dripped on her cheeks like jagged slices. The whites of her eyes appeared a greyer color, darkening as she stood there.

“Was it creature, beast, caster, or spoiled?” her father asked as she frowned. He looked at his notes as she stared at him. The officer looked confused as the others surveying the scene turned towards the commotion she was causing.

“Yes.” was her only response before she looked back at it confused. She raised her hand once more and pulled the glove off. Dark claws and darkened skin blurred together as she placed it on the large block. She began to scrawl on it. Symbols. She worked quickly as she carved line after line into the stone. It started to erode. She sided stepped as a skeleton fell out onto the street. When it clattered to the ground, coins fell out with it as well as a book and some pages. She picked the book up and tucked the loose pages inside. She flipped through it before she tucked it away into her coat with a huff. She would deal with THAT back at the office.

“Oh. a vessel.” Gabriel watched the officer vomit and sighed before laughing at the other man, “Good work sweetie. Is that why it smelt stingy?” he asked as he scribbled in his book.

“Mmhm. Kinda. Partially. Not really. This is more…. It was making me really uneasy? Like how people describe being around me. How I always feel the eyes of the moon staring.” she pulled her mask back up over her nose and knelt down poking the skull with her claws. She sighed heavily before she stood up, the various chains on her outfit ringing. She stretched as the slits in the back of her shirt showed her pale flesh and the dark markings on it and she took a deep breath.

“R I S E.”

Her voice was strong and had an echo that caused a shudder to run through the air as the bones began to shift. Shimmering black threads wrapped the brittle yellowed remains together as it slowly stood up. Its skull clacked and teeth dropped. It clicked and chittered as it shifted with the threads holding it together. A light behind the eye sockets glimmering.

“That’s new.” Gabriel whistled, “who taught you that?” he raised a brow as he watched, “that wasn’t your normal work.”

“Miss Holmes in the necromancy department.” she stated as her father walked over, “she said voice of authority should work for a limited time if the corpse was magic respondent.” she explained as she looked at him. Turning back towards the skeleton, she narrowed her eyes, “Who buried you in the block?” she asked it with a stern tone. It had a similar echo to when she rose it from the ground.

It stared at her. It clattered. It tried to point but it’s arm was limp and it couldn’t fully raise it.

“Hrm. I don’t think this will work sweetheart.” her father patted her back but her eyes were staring firmly at the skeleton. “Sweetheart?” he chewed his cigarette.

“The one who buried me sleeps in the earth but the descendants crave destruction of the barriers,” she stated in a hollow tone. “They knew not that I would rise and that I rested here. The child brings sanctuary.” Her gold eyes were blank as she spoke. Her pupils returned as cat like slits as she snarled some.

“That’s no good.” Gabriel sighed, rubbing his neck tiredly. “I’ve worked hard on barriers after all.” he chuckled lowly, “I would prefer them to not be destoryed.”

The man turned to the officers, “it seems this is very much a case for our office. I’m going to let my daughter loose to have a little look. It’ll cut on cleanup and casualties.” he laughed as he stomped on his cigarette and looked at Kaya once more, “Ready, sweetheart?”

She whined some as she bent down. He reached to undo the leather choker she wore. He gently unclipped the belts from her arms and legs. There was a sickening feeling in the air. It became heavy. The sensation of being watched. The air was thick and oppressive as he continued to remove the belts.

She stood up straight for the first time that night. Her stature towering over those deployed. Despite her height she was thin and wispy. Her face was hardened into a steely glare as the man held a black mask up. It had two small horns. 4 white slits decorated the dark surface.

“Here you are.” Gabriel chuckled as he handed it to her.

“Thanks…” she lifted it to her face and set it on. At once four eyes opened on the inky surface before a jagged grin spread. She yawned and the mask moved with her motions.

“Find the one causing this mess and bring them back. If they prove difficult. Eat them.” he ordered her. She gave a nod and in a flash was gone leaving a crater in the pavement. The skeleton wobbled and collapsed into dust on the ground. Gabriel sighed.

“Well that’s not helpful.” he scribbled a note as he looked at the remains. He took his cigarette packet out.

“S-sir… what exactly….” the officer whipped his mouth in shock.

Gabriel smirked as he lit another cigarette, “that’s my wonderful baby girl! She’s a special one for sure!” he chuckled as he blew the smoke through his teeth, “a wonderful girl ever since I found her asleep in the lost woods. My sweet little Kaya.” he chuckled, “she’s our best agent you know.”

She jumped from building to building. Her head was throbbing from the release of her seals. She stood on the church steeple and looked around. She raised an arm as the shadows squirmed and formed crows and bats and tore off into the sky. The moon shifted as eyes opened and the night seemed darker. She looked around as she closed her eyes and focused on the shadows that flew around searching for magic traces. For the one who exploded the grim’s holding.

They ran through alleys. They spied in windows. They flew through buildings that whistled with openings. Her eyes snapped open.

“Found you.” she jumped from the building and vanished into the shadows.

“Should we help her?” the officer asked as Gabriel sat down to pull a not book out. He rolled the belts up as he looked up.

“No, we’ll only get in her way. This is training for her you see.” he chuckled, “do you know who we are?”

“I know you work for Prometheus…” he frowned.

“Correction, I own Prometheus.” Gabriel chuckled as he took a pen to write. He scrawled the message his daughter had recited and frowned, “Someone is messing with the barriers my ancestors laid down to keep the other side from interacting with humans. Kaya is a key to maintaining those barriers.”

She jumped from shadow to shadow, the tendrils clinging as she ran through the city. She stopped as she arrived back on the scene and the officer jumped.

“Welcome back sweetheart.” he hummed, “did you find it?”

“Mmhm.” she pulled her mask off revealing she had four eyes below it. All four trained on the officer. The whites of her eyes were the same inky tone of her hair and claws. Her gold eyes glowed in the night air. The officer backed up. He shook as she kept her stare on him. Like a mouse cornered by a cat he was starting to have issues with his heart. Something wasn’t right.

“Isn’t it fascinating?” Gabriel continued, “how the very people who protect the common folk happen to keep others on their side?” he kept scrawling without looking up. The officer swallowed their spit as the young woman kept her multi-eyed gaze on him. Gabriel chuckled some. “The real way to keep the peace is to play togehter sometimes.”

She moved to open her mouth revealing larger fangs. A dark mist left mouth as she gave a low growl deep in her throat. A second mouth opened along her jawline creating the illusion of her face being a mask. It clicked aggressively as she open and closed it.

“I said it smelt bad,” she spoke in a grumbly tone from both mouths. An echo of her own words. “So bad. The moment I got here. Bad magic. ROTTEN magic. Festered, old, wrong.” she hissed word by word.

“I open at the close.” Gabriel recited from his notes. He snapped his book shut and tucked it away into the inner pocket of his coat, “Sweetheart what does that mean typically?”

“It’s where it started,” Kaya answered him as she dropped her shoulders, her claws seemed larger and her limbs longer. She moved closer to the trembling officer. Four large black wings spread from her back as an unease filled the air. She stepped closer as Horns lifted her hair like inky tendrils and she hissed another cloud of smoke. The air grew heavier.

“Do you know what it means to make thine enemy your friend?” Gabriel asked as he stood up. He dusted his coat off with a chuckle as he looked at his daughter. “It helps you immensely in the long run to not make enemies of those who dwell in magic. Officer.”

Kaya cackled as eyes opened on the wings and the officer fell over foaming at the mouth. She straightened up and sighed as she relaxed now. Her horns vanished like mist as she seemed to return to how she had appeared earlier in the evening.

Gabriel clicked her belts back on and the air returned to the normal calm evening chill. She stood up and shook her head as she shut her lower eyes and mouth. She let her father put the belts back on as the wings faded back to the shadows and she grimaced. She took her choker and strapped it on, the silver cross on it jingling as she did.

He pulled a bottle of cola from his jacket and gave it to her which she eagerly sipped on. She took a large gulp before she groaned and stuck her tongue out.

“What’s the point of making me run around if he was the one?” she frowned, “My mouth tastes so gross now.” she shuddered, “Dad. you said this was a simple thing. I ran all around the city.” she whined as she sipped the soda, “In the end it’s just bad smelling and now my head hurts because you removed so many seals at once!” she leaned on him tiredly as she complained about the evening. She gave a large yawn. Her forked tongue flicked as she shut her eyes tiredly. “It’s rotten and icky and bluh.”

“I had a suspicion. I mean this is nothing but a dummy scene.” Gabriel chuckled as he lifted the round stone from around his neck and peeked through the hole. “You noticed I’m sure. It’s far too quite for a thursday even if it is midnight. He would have done better to stage this during the day, but I feel he wanted to wait for less real victims.”

“Of course I did.” she pouted as she moved to grab the officer’s shirt. The shadows swirled and she threw him through it with a shudder. “I see everything.” she opened her lower eyes as the fog began to lift, “That’s why you bring me, isn’t it?”

“No, I bring you because you’re my daughter and you need to learn to manage this.” He looked at her with a small glare on his wrinkled face. “What will you do when I can’t be your handler?” he asked seriously, “I’m not going to be around forever young lady. You’re already 37. I’m hitting 80 next month. You may look like a teenager but you need to learn this faster.” he chided her.

She sighed and looked away from her father ashamed. She continued to grumble, “you don’t even know that. You found me as a toddler...ish.” she sipped her drink as she pulled her fabric mask back out to cover her face.

“Yes, but you’ve been in my care at least 36 years, and you’re still my baby girl. Now. clean the area up, eat the remains.” he instructed as he checked his notes, “that vessel is the only concerning thing.” he scowled as he looked at what he’d written, “the idiot mage I expected but not an actual vessel to be here.”

“It’s a grim. Not a vessel.” she corrected him as bright circles and symbols lit up. The rubble began to rise into the air. She waved her arms as black threads danced and tied the building back together and stitched them whole once more. She looked at the bodies and whined, “can we please call a clean up instead?”

“Kaya.” her father sighed with a firm tone. He stared at her with faded brown eyes.

“Ugh.” she frowned as shadows shifted and covered the bodies. She shuddered violently and started to retch and cough. She held back the urge to vomit as she continued to remove them and crumpled to her knees gripping her stomach. She wiped the black sludge tears from her eyes.

“The magic tastes so BAD it’s so out of order! Messy! Old! Miscasted! Yuck!” she whined as she bit back tears, “I hate it! Hate it!”

“I know sweetheart but you need to consume the fear they produce.” he rubbed her back as she hiccuped and groaned. “I’ll get you burgers on the way home okay? We can even get some sunflower seeds for your bird.”

“I just hate it!” she stood up and wiped her eyes, “this is the worst.” she looked at him as she sniffled.

“I know sweetheart.” he sighed as he looked at the street. He frowned as he raised a hand, “Oh powers which guide the night into the light I call upon your strength of fate. Return that which has wronged and repel that which is sight.”

There was a haze that quickly faded and the sound of cars was heard as people chattered.

Kaya looked at the city and leaned on her dad with a sigh.

“Let’s go home,” she stated as she stood back up and started to walk.

“We should get your mother a cake.” he laughed as they headed down the street into the crowd. A three-eyed crow taking flight.

#original #colors #kai #skull #digital #nightmare's dream #even tho this is AU it does give a bit of insight to how Kai's actual story is--- the only real difference is her father being there and she #lacks the experience she has in her actual plot but this is kinda what he actual job is when she's not a teenage disaster or an amnesiac #god I love Kai and I really want to get her stuff worked on more #drawing this art was a bit of a lovely nostalgia to work on drawing just kai being kai in her silly glory #i love my idiot demon king and i can't express that enough

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readyplayerhobi · 5 years

Text

Flower | 11

; Hoseok x Reader

; Genre: Fluff

; Word Count: 4.3k

; Synopsis: You finally decide to take a dip into the world of online dating and find the Flower dating app. One of the top matches for you proves to be a guy who looks to be your complete opposite; tattooed, pierced, a metalhead and oh…incredibly handsome. What happens when you throw caution to the wind and reach out to him?

; A/N: I’m glad you all enjoyed reading the smut :D thanks for all your comments! They mean a lot, I’ve still got a few asks to answer but feel free to send more regarding this chapter!

; Flower Masterpost

It’s a good thing that Jung Hoseok is such a mellow person with a pleasant attitude because he takes your shy awkwardness the next morning in his stride. Part of you wants him to acknowledge it, because it was a big thing for you.

You’d finally let a guy give you oral sex!

You’d actually orgasmed with someone else!

That had never happened for you. Even you, through all your anxieties and worries, could tell that you felt comfortable with Hoseok in a way you’d never felt with anyone else before. It was slightly eye widening to realise that while Chungha and Soyeon knew more about you; knew what stresses and upsets you, what you shied from and what you loved, Hoseok had reached a whole different level of comfort.

You struggled even talking about sexual things with your best friends, despite how much you loved them and how long you’d all been strong friends. Most of the time, you stayed quiet and simply giggled when they would talk about the things they did with their partners or what they wanted to do. They were very open about that, but you cringed away from discussing that.

Particularly given you hadn’t understood why they liked sex so much. But Hoseok had definitely made you think new things in regards to that.

Now, you weren’t exactly raring to talk sex with Hoseok. In fact, you still squirmed away from the thought but something about his constantly sweet attitude towards you and your...issues meant that you felt more open and receptive to the idea of it. Almost like you knew he wouldn’t laugh at you if you asked him something simply that someone should probably know already.

And that pleases you, beyond words. You weren’t sure you’d be able to let him know exactly how much his acceptance of your quirks and intricacies meant to you, but you wanted to try at least. While you weren’t ready to do anything else sexually, at least for the moment, you wanted to try and integrate yourself into his world a little more.

You figured that the reason he probably wasn’t mentioning it was because he’d figured that you would be embarrassed if he did. Which you would be, so you were thankful. But it frustrates you that you couldn’t just...talk to him about it openly.

Sighing deeply, you instead resolve to try and make him a little happy today. Nothing sexual, but you always loved it when people showed active interests in you what you liked and loved. So you would do the same for him, because apart from television shows and films, you hadn’t really discovered a huge amount about what Hoseok liked.

You knew that he wasn’t a huge reader and that he liked to play games on occasion. He liked documentaries, particularly on crime and other real life stories, and crime shows. He didn’t like comedy shows, nor did he like comedy films. Hoseok was an avid lover of horror films and was determined to make you watch every classic horror film in existence, which you were certainly not looking forward to.

He didn’t care for comic books but loved superhero movies. Fantasy shows were his shit but he was less bothered about science fiction shows, a fact you were definitely going to change as soon as possible. He loved chocolate, pizza, protein shakes weirdly and vegetables of all kinds.

But he’d almost vomit if you tried to give him a cucumber slice, even the smell made him queasy. And he refused point blank to eat mushrooms, calling them the ‘devil’s food’. Which had amused you intensely when you’d first suggested a mushroom and ham pizza.

Even more amusingly, he was particularly childish with his food. If something he hated was in something else, he’d refuse to eat it. So the time you’d gone to an Italian restaurant and he’d realised there was mushroom in his sauce, he’d refused to eat the rest of it. Apparently it had been ‘infected’ or something.

He was funny.

But despite all that you’d learnt of him so far, you knew almost nothing in reality. The visits with his friends, or simply being present when his friends visited him at his place, let you see into the expansive world that was Jung Hoseok. Currently, you’d only explored a tiny bit of it and you were eager to find out more about him.

What else didn’t he like in terms of food? What did he truly love? What were his little quirks and ticks?

You’d figured some of them out, he hated wearing socks to bed and if he wore anything more than a shirt and pyjama bottoms then he’d overheat. Literally be covered in sweat as he tried to pull clothes off. He slept in the strangest positions sometimes; once you’d woken up up to him diagonal on the bed, both of you laid on your stomach but he was stretched over your back somehow. That had been a slight learning curve with him.

When he was unhappy, his mouth turned into a little triangle until he was happy again. Despite how rare it was, you’d discovered that you didn’t like it when he was angry. It had only happened once, when he’d gotten into an actual argument with Jimin and you’d withdrawn into yourself so quickly.

It hadn’t taken long for him to realise though, and you’d noticed that he seemed to bite his tongue more now when his friends were truly annoying him so that he didn’t frighten you. But there was so much more to discover about him.

You still found out things about Chungha and Soyeon, even now. Hell, you found out things about yourself, never mind anyone else. So you wanted to know more.

And one thing you didn’t know about with Hoseok yet, which you considered a travesty honestly, was music. He obviously loved music. The bar he went to had a weekly band night and he would go every other week with his friends, enjoying some local music from a new or beloved band that was hoping to make it big or simply having a good time.

The number of band shirts he appeared to have was ridiculous and half the bands you’d never even heard of. You were gaining a whole library in your wardrobe of obscure names. Plus he had a whole bunch of concert tickets pinned to the noticeboard in his kitchen. A lot were for upcoming concerts in the year but there was a whole stack of used tickets that he proudly kept.

Despite this, you’d never really talked too much about it. You had no knowledge of metal music or rock. The most intense you got was Fall Out Boy and Imagine Dragons. But Hoseok seemed to listen to that kind of music that just sounded like shrieking or had dead bushes as their logos. You were saying this in the nicest possible way, because obviously he loved it.

Still, you wanted to at least try with him. That was what relationships were about right? Learning each other and learning to enjoy new things. Or at least trying them anyway. He’d tried plenty of stuff for you already and he was so giving.

Right now though, he was dozing on the couch. It was past 4pm on a Saturday and you’d both gone out to the mall earlier in the morning. You’d needed to buy presents for Chungha’s birthday and he’d just wanted to tag along. For the first time ever, you’d truly discovered what it was like to go shopping with a guy who did not like shopping.

Hoseok’s whiny voice was incredibly adorable and he apparently became more touchy when he was bored. It had made you feel like a normal couple for the first time ever, laughing when he pulled a face as you dragged him into LUSH. Despite his complaining though, he’d bought a bath bomb gift set for Yoongi.

Apparently he was going to keep it for Christmas and give it to him then. Why he’d felt the need to buy it now, you had no idea. But you’d just smiled and hesitantly wrapped your arms around him once outside, hugging him quickly in public.

After that, he’d gorged himself on sushi at a local restaurant in the mall while you’d carefully chewed on a roll or two. You’d felt a little like a lovesick teenager, carefully watching him with complete adoration and admiration in your eyes. It felt a little ridiculous. All he’d done was given you an orgasm, but it felt like a lot more to you for some reason.

So when you’d finally gotten back home, you’d cuddled Kasumi for a bit on the couch before noting that he’d fallen asleep next to you. His head was at an odd angle on the couch while his mouth was open slightly, breath just audible in the slightest snore every time he inhaled while black hair fell on his forehead almost artfully.

Shifting slightly, you turn and simply admire him for a few minutes. As silly as it sounds, this was the first time you’d truly been able to just...look at him without him being aware. He was a morning person, which was a disgusting thing, which meant he was always awake before you. And he fell asleep after you.

Smiling, you rest your head on the back of the couch and just...watch him. Soft black eyelashes rest on the roundness of his cheeks, creating the slightest shadow and you see the way his eyes flicker beneath his eyelids. You wonder what he’s dreaming about; a concert, going to the bar, maybe even just a day with you?

His lips are so soft and pink, surprisingly plump and the silver lip ring embedded helps to give him a rough edge despite having no trace of facial hair. Hoseok didn’t like himself with a beard or moustache apparently, and he appeared to grow hair on his face incredibly slow. Which was ironic because he’d already had two haircuts in the time you’d known him.

And then there’s his beautiful tattoos, the vibrant designs and colours standing out from everything else. You’ve spent many nights now admiring them, tracing the outlines with your fingertips and memorising each and every tiny detail in them. But for now, they’re still as his arms rest in his sleep.

Despite the odd angle of his head, which makes you wince as you realise he’s going to have a cramp in his neck later, he looks peaceful and relaxed. Something warm bubbles in your stomach at that, causing you to hug Kasumi to your chest tighter as you realise that you’re happy he’s so comfortable and relaxed in your presence.

For a long time, you’d worried that you were too immature in your likes and dislikes for a true relationship to occur. You had more plushies in your small apartment than most families did in their entire house and the abundance of pop culture related items outweighed any aesthetic you could go for. An acceptance of that had occurred a while ago, acknowledging that this stuff made you happy and anyone who wanted to be a part of your life had to accept that too.

And Hoseok did. In fact, it seemed to comfort and relax him too. His own apartment wasn’t exactly decorated amazingly, and you got the distinct sense that he didn’t particularly care about decorations. Yet he seemed to genuinely love your apartment, despite it being smaller.

The fact he could fall asleep in your presence, in your small and cluttered apartment, made you pleased beyond belief.

“Urgh,” He groans suddenly, causing you to jump ever so slightly in surprise. Hoseok doesn’t notice though, blinking blearily and licking at his mouth in distaste while a hand rubbed at his neck. “Ah...owww. My neck.”

Smiling, you gently push Kasumi off your lap and reach forward, fingers grasping his arm and attracting his attention. You can’t help the snort of amusement that leaves you as he looks over at you, eyes slightly hazy and puffy. He’d only slept for two hours yet he looked like he’d slept for six years.

“Oh baby,” The endearment falls from your lips without you even realising, and you’re so busy focusing on how he’s messed up his hair too that you don’t see the way his eyes light up. “Come here...you can...I mean I can massage it for you? Your neck...if you want?”

You’d started out so bold and confident but it had petered out so quickly, causing you to sigh quietly. Hoseok doesn’t care though and instead grins tiredly, running his hands through his hair once more and ruining it even more. Though it’s endearing honestly. But still, he understands what you ask, particularly when you gesture towards yourself.

Slowly, as if he’s testing whether or not you’re being serious, he shifts on the couch. You rest your back against the mound of cushions and plushies behind you, shyly letting him slide between your legs once more. This time though, there’s no sexual anticipation there.

He rests his back against your front carefully, checking that you’re okay with it the whole time before he relaxes finally. His weight is heavy against you but you don’t find it suffocating or overwhelming. Instead, it’s just...comforting. Nice. You feel..protected almost.

“This is...nice.” Hoseok says quietly, turning his head to look up at you. Dipping your head down, you bury your face into his shoulder for a moment and simply take him in, eyes closed. It’s fascinating how one smell can become so deeply imprinted on you.

Shuffling back, you wriggle to get comfortable before bringing your hands up and gently beginning to massage the muscles of his neck. He lets out a quiet noise before humming in delight, letting his head relax even more as you work.

“Hey, I was thinking earlier. Err...can you play me some of your favourite bands? I don’t really know anything about metal but...I’d be interested to see if there’s something I like? So we can both listen together?” That gets him looking back at you with raised brows, a smile playing on his lips.

He’s already pulling his phone out of his pocket, unlocking it with his face as he turns back around. “Really? Okay. This sounds fun. Hmm...what to play...what to play…”

You just focus on his neck as he clicks through Spotify, humming to himself lightly as he tries to figure out what to go with. Finally, a song starts to play and you cringe as you listen to the intense beats that come out of the tiny speaker.

“This is...I mean I guess-” Then the screaming starts. “Nope. Never gonna happen. Next band.”

That gets Hoseok snorting, his shoulders shaking against you as he laughs and continues to play with his phone. “I thought not, though they are good and I personally like them. They’re called Amon Amarth. Swedish death metal.”

“Can we just...try normal metal? Is that a thing? Maybe no death?” You ask, voice a tiny bit pleading and he just presses back into you more. Massage forgotten, you lay your head on his shoulder and watch as he flits around the music app.

“Okay...less death...kinda hard in the metal world but it’s fine. There’s something for everything. You want templar metal? Jaldaboath. Pirate met-” He’s interrupted by you as you poke at his cheek lightly, causing him to look at you in astonishment for interrupting him.

“Templar...metal? What does that mean? Like...Assassin’s Creed templars? The Knights Templar? That kinda thing?” Hoseok nods seriously and grins, typing into his phone before a song started playing. It all sounds very jolly and happy for metal music, yet you bizarrely find it fun and actually pretty good.

“I’m gonna regret this...but it’s actually kinda good.”

“Right? It’s fun. I love it. Okay, okay. Pirate metal, as I was saying. Equally fun. This is by Alestorm...Scottish pirate metal.” You admire Hoseok as he continues to play you on increasingly ridiculous subgenres of metal, his face lighting up in pure joy and amusement. It’s obvious he doesn’t listen to these most of the time but somehow it doesn’t surprise you that he actually knows of them.

After a good fifteen minutes of him lambasting your ears with stupid genres, though you’ll admit to actually enjoying a few of them, you finally get him to start giving you serious music that he actually listens to regularly. And you thoroughly enjoy running your fingers through his hair as he does so, everything feeling incredibly domestic with him.

You’re not sure what three months of a relationship is supposed to look like, and you think that it’s probably supposed to be closer and more intimate, but you’re happy with it at least. And he’s shown no signs of complaining about it.

Pressing your nose to his hair, you simply inhale and take him in, listening to him effervescently talking about his favourite music. It’s nice to see him excited about something, hear him talking animatedly about something he was truly passionate about.

It made you feel a little bad when he whined softly before pouting when you admitted to not liking his older metal and rock music. Some of his classic bands such as Iron Maiden, Metallica, Motorhead and Black Sabbath had gotten a grimace from you, leading to him making the most pitiful noises in combination with a pout and puppy dog eyes.

He wriggles in your arms, voice ever so slightly churlish as he thumbs through playlist’s he’s created over the years. “Can’t believe you don’t like Maiden or Metallica. This is an outrage.”

You chuckle quietly, thoroughly amused before kissing his temple.

“Okay...so you don’t like classic, you don’t like death, you don’t mind the weird genres...I think you’ll probably like vocalists who sing more. Hmm...hold on, lemme just...what about this?” A song starts playing and you make a soft noise of approval, smiling and reaching for his phone as you look at the screen.

“The Diary of Jane...by Breaking Benjamin?” Looking at him, he nods as he watches intently. “I like it, it’s good. I like his voice.”

“They’re more rock than metal, but their music is really good. So...we have one band I’m pretty sure you’ll like. Now...Disturbed is also great. They did a great cover of Sound of Silence, here lemme show you.” The next twenty minutes are spent with you finding new bands and music to listen to, being pleasantly surprised by how much you actually do like the songs he’s showing you.

And he’s obviously inordinately pleased to have you showing active interest in the genres he loves the most. Hoseok has the most entertaining stories to go alongside some of the bands he’s playing; from seeing Disturbed in New York to when he travelled to the UK to go to something called Download Festival when he was 23 and saw some of the all-time-favourites including Metallica, Rammstein, Slipknot and other bands you didn’t remember the name of.

You were in a little in awe at that, as you’d never actually travelled outside the country. And here Hoseok was, travelling to some field in England just to see some bands when he only just out of college. It would have been nice if you’d gained the courage to do that when younger, but you resolved it to be something to be worked on.

After a while though, Hoseok evidently tires of showing you music and shifts until he’s looking directly at you. Laying your head on his shoulder, you give him a small smile before making an inquisitive noise, letting him know you’re receptive to whatever he’s thinking.

“What do you like to listen to? I mean, I know you just play the radio in the car most of the time but like...what do you really love?” Humming lightly, you rest your chin on him as you think before gesturing to his phone.

He hands it over with out a word, eyebrows rising as he watches you type into the search bar. And his expression turns into a pained grimace as he reads what you type.

“Oh god...please no...please.” He whispers desperately, the first notes of a Justin Bieber song playing from his phone. “You’ve infected my phone. Oh god, why?”

You can’t stop the giggle that leaves you at his reaction, stopping the song and typing in the search bar once more. “I’m kidding. I like some of his songs but only the ones that always get played on the radio. Hmm...I like most things you know? Ed Sheeran, Imagine Dragons, David Guetta, Billie Eilish and stuff. I quite like finding new artists, like indie ones you know? Found some good people through just looking through random spotify playlists. But I think my genre is just...soundtracks?”

“Soundtracks? Like...film soundtracks?” Nodding, you search for your own profile on Spotify and open up one of your many soundtrack playlists.

“Yeah. I really like them. And game soundtracks. I have favourites that just...make me feel happy or relaxed. They have such good memories associated with them. Like...the Skyrim soundtrack reminds me of when I was in college and was writing papers. I actually liked doing that, and learning. I also used to listen to the We Were Soldiers soundtrack in college. They’re great for anything that you need to focus on or just in the background. Especially game soundtracks, that’s why they’re made you know?” You press play on the Assassin’s Creed Odyssey playlist, smiling as your favourite song plays.

“They make them specifically so that you’ve always got the right moment to go with what you’re doing. The songs will transition into more upbeat and intense songs if you’re about to go into a fight or anything like that, but for moments when you’re just like...travelling from one place to another then it’s more relaxing. It’s not supposed to be intrusive, unless the soundtrack is part of the game like Cadence of Hyrule or Tetris Effect, but just fill the background with noise. You notice when a game has no music because it means something is about to happen or like...you’ve defeated all the enemies. It’s quite fascinating really, I read this whole article on The Flight, who composed this game’s soundtrack and the way they…” You continue on, explaining enthusiastically about the in’s and out’s of game soundtracks and why they’re important and can even become part of the game's mechanics.

Hoseok listens quietly, watching you intently as you chatter on, blissfully unaware that in reality, he doesn’t particularly care about the intricacies of game soundtracks. But he listens with interest because it interests you, and he wants to encourage that interest and never make you feel like you shouldn’t get excited about something.

Over the next half an hour, you go through all your favourite soundtracks and explain why you love each one and the memories you remember the most. Of course, it results in you excitedly discussing the games that went along with them and what you hated or liked about each one.

“So I’m guessing you have like...favourite composers too then or something?” Nodding enthusiastically, you begin to name them on your free fingers with a smile.

“My favourite film composer is Hans Zimmer. It probably sounds a bit basic but like...he’s a genius and he’s composed some of the best film scores ever. The Dark Knight series is a true classic and he’s influenced so many too. John Williams obviously, the OG film composer. Everyone knows his scores, whether you like Star Wars or not. In the television world though, no one beats Ramin Djawadi. The man is just...oh god he makes the best soundtracks. I maintain Game of Thrones wouldn’t be anywhere near as good without his soundtracks and it was the best thing about the last season. He also did Westworld and he’s done some great film soundtracks too.”

“You know...I had no idea of the names of any of those except John Williams to be honest. Well...now I do. Thanks for teaching me,” Hoseok grins, taking his phone back and shutting Spotify off finally. “So what I’ve learned from this is that I shouldn’t play my death metal around you…”

“And I shouldn’t play Justin Bieber around you.” You tease him, running your fingers along his sides and giggling when he writhes with a soft whine. Him being ticklish was a recent discovery but you couldn’t help yourself when he sounded so cute giggling like he did.

Sure enough though, he takes your hands like he always does, trapping them between his own before pulling until you’re hugging him tightly. Smiling, you bury your face into his neck as he lets out a deep sigh, body relaxing once more against you.

“I know this is a little left field...but wanna go take a nap?” He asks suddenly, causing you to laugh against him.

“Have we reached that age already?” You tease lightly, enjoying the way he makes you feel so comfortable around him lately. How you feel a little braver every minute you’re with him and how much he supports you and all your strange intricacies.

Standing up, he looks at you with a serious expression before nodding gravely.

“I’m afraid so. I’m a growing boy. I need my nap times. Will you come nap with me?” His lower lip pushes out in a pout, amusing considering he also has a prominent lip ring but you can’t help but grin and take his proffered hand.

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