#would need to end first chapter soon before ao3 eats my draft

[sambvcks]

crawl home to her, b.b. x reader

chapter one // body’s working on empty

summary: bucky isn’t as receptive to this new life of his as everyone had hoped. he’s cold, sharp-tongued, and closed off. except to the tenant across the hallway from him, who always wears pajamas and bakes a dozen too many of his favorite cookies

warnings: food, nothing too bad this chapter!

word count: 1.5k-ish

author’s note: i thought my marvel phase ended five years ago...here we are again. i haven’t written in awhile so please be kind! title and chapter titles taken from hozier’s ‘work song’.

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Five minutes into their first session, Bucky decided he was going to make Dr. Raynor’s job as difficult as he possibly could.

It wouldn’t be an impossible task, seeing how this whole ordeal depended on him opening up and talking, two things that he had abandoned decades ago. Her unwavering stare was nothing more than a challenge, these fifty-minute sessions once a week were nothing more than a slight inconvenience to his lackluster day to day routine. He would play along, do whatever exercises she asked, and feign stability until he never had to see her again.

“Since this is our first session together, we’ll take it easy.” She promised with a forced upturn of her lips before whipping out her notebook.

Suddenly, it felt like he was encased in bulletproof glass in Berlin again. He remembered that the last time he had been forced into receiving psychiatric help, it hadn’t exactly gone to plan. His chin fell to his chest, hands wringing together as he thought of any excuse to request a different doctor. 

“Let’s begin.”

It was already getting too hot to wear leather gloves and his heavy jacket. New York’s heatwave was supposed to be the highest on record this year and while kids popped open fire hydrants in the street, Bucky would be settled on the hardwood floor in the back corner of his apartment, waiting.

Waiting for what, he wasn’t quite sure.

It was a fairly nice apartment, newly renovated and practically barren. Government issued and funded, of course, and he had spent the first night pulling the furniture from the walls to the center of the room in search of bugs and cameras. He found thirty-four, destroyed them under a rolling pin, and they hadn’t come to replace them. Message received.

The one thing he really liked about the apartment building were his neighbors. The price tag for a one bedroom was substantial to say the least and only older couples could really afford it. No children, no dogs, no outsiders. The only break from his undisturbed routine would be occasionally helping Mrs. Johnson down the hall carry her groceries as she struggled to get the door unlocked with her brittle hands.

They affectionately called him James and the older women were quick to get a hold of his arms, saying things like “They don’t make them like you anymore, James!”. He swallowed the bile prickling at the back of his throat as he nodded, and they moved on to telling him about their single granddaughters.

It was almost nice, his routine. Almost.

Outside of those small encounters, he spent most of his waking hours jogging in the park and cooking the same three meals. He had his appointment every Wednesday with Dr. Raynor, but that was it. He’d take two trains back to his apartment and wouldn’t emerge again until he needed groceries two days later.

It was when he was returning from one of his biweekly grocery trips, a paper bag settled on his hips, that he spotted you outside his door.

He stilled in the hallway, taking a quick step back to peek around the corner without being spotted. His breath stalled, his ears picking up your soft humming and the crinkle of plastic as you set a bundle of cookies at his doorstep, the only one without a mat. His eyes flicked to the other doors, where identical bags of cookies sat propped up, tied with blood red ribbons.

His shoulders relaxed. No threat.

The bottom of his grocery bag suddenly gave way, fruit rolling in every direction. Bucky fell to his knees, glove clad hands snatching up everything he could reach as quickly as he could manage. You were faster, though, and scooped up a plum that had rolled your way, offering it over as he tried to balance the rest of his groceries in his arms.

“Thanks.” He was quick to sweep past you, hand digging in his pockets for his key.

“James, right? Ms. Robinson downstairs is like, in love with you.”

“Yeah, but, uh-“ Dr. Raynor’s instructions from their last session rang in his head, as much as he tried to tune her out: make connections. “You can call me Bucky.” He cleared his throat. “And Mrs. Robinson is far too good for me.”

“Bucky it is then.” You trailed him down the hallway, “Y/N.”

Bucky tried to sneak a glance at you from the corner of his eyes, which was harder to inconspicuously do now that he had gotten a haircut and couldn’t hide his wandering eyes behind long tresses. Young was Bucky’s first thought. much younger than the other renters in the building. Bright was next, followed by much too smiley for a Tuesday morning.

Pretty, he admitted as he turned his back to unlock his door. Maybe in another life he would have lingered in the hall, his so-called effortless charm seeping through as you swooned at the very thought of a date with James Buchanan Barnes. But that life was long gone, and instead he rushed to retreat.

“Oh, don’t forget these.” You swooped down to collect the bundle of cookies you had left at his door, handing them to the hand that wasn’t delicately balancing the pile of groceries he still held against his impossibly broad shoulders. “Oatmeal raisin, super-secret family recipe.”

He was back in the doorway of his ma��s kitchen, watching his little sister balance on a wobbling stool as she struggled to crack and egg with her little fingers. He can so distinctly see the pale green of the cabinets, remember the fight his parents had when she begged for that shade of green while his dad had wanted white. Of course, she won.

“These are your brother’s favorite.” His ma whispered to his sister; her flour covered hands reaching for the age faded index card with their grandmother’s script detailing the ingredients. “Our family’s recipe. One day, you will make these for your children. And your children’s children.”

Rebecca, still so young and with a hatred for smelly boys deep in her bones, giggled at the mere thought as her fingers fished out the bits of eggshell that snuck their way into the bowl. She wiped it away on the spare apron tied twice around her waist, much too big for her. 

Bucky would never see her grow into it. He would be drafted only a few months later.

In the meantime, he would bundle half a dozen of them in a tea towel and split them with Steve on the walk to the movie theater. Steve would begrudgingly admit that Buck’s ma made the best cookies, but his made the best brisket. They’d sneak in through the back door and do it all again the next weekend, until they ran out of weekends together.

“Oatmeal raisin are my favorite.” He admitted, accepting your offering like a stray cat does to the first scrap of food from a stranger.

“I think you’re the only person under the age on one hundred to ever say that.” You teased, backing away to the door adjacent to his, “Anyway, don’t tell me things like that. I’m a stress baker and with finals coming up…” You winced at the image of the dozens of batches you would surely be whipping up in the coming weeks.

“Finals?”

“Law school, one semester left.” You fished your own keys from your back pocket. Bucky barely held in the scoff at the shiny Spider-Man keychain that dangled from your fingers. “You?”

“Oh, no. I haven’t been in school in what feels like…a century.”

“Well, I’m all alone here and as much as I would love to, I can’t eat everything that I bake. So, expect a few dozen muffins and cookies every few days.”

“No arguing from me, doll.”

You both lingered in the small hallway, only a few steps apart, each leaning against your respective doors. Keys in each hand, with no intention of using them any time soon.

“Law school, you said? How do you afford a place like this?” Bucky was sure he was the only recently pardoned fugitive under this room.

“Well, this used to be my grandma’s apartment and it was handed down to me in a maybe no so legal way. If the landlord asks, I’m an eighty-year-old woman who doesn’t know how to work her answering machine.”

He huffed a laugh, mostly because that wasn’t particularly far from how he felt with today’s tech. The flip phone that Dr. Raynor had described as archaic sat heavy in his back pocket with only three names programed into his contacts. Don’t get him started on his television.

“Nice to meet you, Bucky.”

With that, you each stepping into your respective apartments. Bucky stalled at his door for a moment, listening as you locked and dead bolted your door behind you. He sighed, dumping his half-ruined groceries on his barren kitchen island.

The next day, he’d have another appointment with Dr. Raynor. This time when he’d say I’m trying, as he did each week, it wouldn’t be a complete lie. His phone buzzed in his back pocket.

2 New Messages

From: Sam

You coming up this weekend?

Don’t ignore me this time. He’s getting worse, Buck.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes x you #marvel imagine #tfatws imagine #crawl home to her #sab writes

[thexanwillshine]

a;lskfjdk

Author: thexanwillshine (twitter, ao3) Pairings: Levi x Hange Cross-Postings: AO3 Notes: made for Day 2: Confessions of Levihan Week 2021

“But Levi,” Hange whines as she slumps her head on the back of her sofa and closes her eyes. “Kissing scenes are so tricky to write.”

Perhaps it’s the fact that it’s almost 5:30 in the morning. It could also be because he's tired from lack of sleep. Whatever the case, Levi Ackerman’s filter completely disappears when he asks, “Do you need a demonstration?”

Levi Ackerman can argue that every writer he’s met is always a little bit more eccentric than the average person, but no one proves his theory more than Hange Zoë.

Hange wakes him up in the middle of the night, voice screeching on the phone in her excitement. He responds groggily—as one does when their sleep is disturbed at an ungodly hour by an overly-excited author who acts as if they’ve just found out the answers to the universe—and tries to keep himself sober enough to understand what in the goddamn fuck Hange was talking about this time.

“Levaaiiii,” she says, drawling out his name in a manner that was both annoying and endearing, “I’ve figured it out!”

He can almost imagine the look on her face: starry-eyed in her joy, mouth stretched wide into a grin, fingers shaking as she bounces in glee, shifting her weight from the heels of her feet to the tips of her toes . . .

And Levi exhales in both relief and the tiniest hint of delight, because this is exactly how he wants Hange to be: happy .

Nevertheless, he replies “Figured what out?” snarkily.

Hange’s response comes out quickly, as if she needed to say everything that had to be said in the span of five seconds or less. “So you know how I’ve been trying to write a fiction novel because I wanted to get out of my comfort zone?”

Levi hums in acknowledgement as he fixes the covers over his legs before turning on his bedside lamp. He leans back on the bed frame and closes his eyes to listen to her ramble.

“So I was thinking, I wanted to write a romance novel, because you know how people fall in love and stuff?”

“No Hange, I’ve never heard of that concept in my entire life,” Levi says in a deadpan voice.

Hange laughs, because of course she would know that’s his pathetic attempt at lighthearted conversation. Levi is glad that she knows him better than most people, and it is this sense of familiarity that made him feel particularly comfortable when graced with her presence.

“Just because you’ve never fallen in love before doesn’t mean it’s not real, Levi!” Hange tells him in jest.

Wrong, Levi thinks.

“After all, you’ve probably never wanted to kiss someone your entire life!”

Wrong, Levi thinks.

“Sure, Hange.”

He rolls his eyes at her teasing, because yes, Levi has fallen in love—and maybe, just maybe, he’s still on the road to understanding what it meant to treasure someone far more than just a regular friend.

He shakes off such thoughts before maneuvering Hange back to the initial reason why she had called. “So, what did you want to tell me?”

“I finished,” she proclaims on the phone, her voice proud, “I finished writing the first ten chapters.”

Levi blinks in confusion before sitting straight up, the information processing in his mind that was still a bit drunk with sleep. “You what?” “I couldn’t stop writing,” Hange told him sheepishly, detecting the slightest hint of concern in her editor’s voice, “I’ve been writing for the past 24 or so hours. Maybe more.”

Levi grunts in annoyance, pulling the covers away from his body and jumping out of his unmade bed. He runs a hand through his dark locks, sighing. “Four-eyes, you need to get some sleep.”

“But Levi,” Hange says in protest, “I need you to read my draft. There are some parts I just don’t think are super natural.”

“And I was sleeping like a regular human being,” Levi retorted as he shrugged off his shorts. After that, he put on jeans that he had recently washed before patting down the shirt he was wearing in a pathetic attempt to get rid of the wrinkles that had accumulated while he tossed and turned in bed.

“Oh my gosh, Levi, I didn’t realize the time!” Hange replies, and he can almost feel her guilt starting to set in. “You should go back to sleep,” she immediately adds. “Take care of yourself!”

Levi slips on his rubber shoes and grabs his umbrella before answering. “Coming from you? Not that credible.”

Hange laughs light-heartedly, and his heart flutters just a tiny bit. Levi pushes the feeling away almost as quickly as it had come.

“Have you eaten?” he asks, almost dreading the reply.

There was none.

“Hange,” he calls, but there’s still no response. “Hange. Answer me,” he says firmly, prodding her on. “Have you eaten?”

The laughter that comes out from the other end is nervous. “Woops.”

Levi sighs. He opens his car door and slips inside smoothly, grabbing his keys from his pocket and starting the engine. “Hange, you’re supposed to eat.”

“Sorry,” she tells him honestly. “I really didn’t want to ruin my momentum. I can’t believe I forgot.” She mumbles her second sentence, sounding almost deep in thought. “I’ll go find food now! Want me to email you the working draft? You can look at it in the morning when you wake up.”

“No need,” Levi tells her, placing his phone on his dashboard and accelerating his car. “I’m on the way.”

“Levi!” Hange exclaimed excitedly as she heard her doorbell ring at around four in the morning.

She rushes to the door in delight, opening it to reveal Levi standing in front of her, a paper bag in his hand and a jacket half-heartedly slung over his shoulder.

“Hi,” he greets calmly, before walking inside and letting himself in.

Inwardly, Hange thanks whatever god is out there for her foresight. Her unit was relatively clean since she hadn’t really done anything since Levi’s last visit. The place seemed to pass Levi’s health protocols, since he sat on her couch and placed the paper bag on the table right across from him.

“Eat,” he tells her, crossing his arms over his chest.

Hange grins, before plopping down beside him and opening the paper bag. “What did you get me?”

“You’ll see.”

She raises an eyebrow at his ambiguity, before taking a glimpse inside the paper bag.

The smell of quesadillas immediately fills the room, and Hange lets out a soft squeal, taking out the food from the bag quickly.

“Oh my gosh,” Hange says as she nudges him on the shoulder. “You also got me onion rings! You know me too well, Levi.”

“Unfortunately,” Levi responds sarcastically, and Hange laughs almost automatically.

As Hange hums in glee, picking apart the paper wrapped around the food items, Levi maintains his silence. They stay like that as Hange eats. Every so often, she would comment about how the amount of cheese was perfect and how the onion rings just about melted in her mouth. Levi alternates between watching her eat and scrolls through his phone placidly.

Soon, he chooses to break the silence. “So where’s your draft?”

Hange is munching on her last piece of quesadilla when she glances in his direction. “Oh, it’s on my laptop! I can’t believe I forgot to tell you, this food was just so good.”

Levi stands up and heads on over to Hange’s room, gently pushing the door open and scanning the area for her laptop. On top of her unmade bed was a half open Macbook Pro, which he gently took before returning to his seat beside Hange.

Without hesitation, Levi opens the laptop and inputs the password. For some reason, Hange made it his birthday—1225—because she claimed that no one would guess such a random date. He is greeted with a blaring Google Docs document entitled “a;lskfjdk.”

“Nice title you got there,” he comments, and Hange chuckles.

“I didn’t want to think of a title yet, okay!” Hange pouts, and Levi nudges her foot gently in an attempt to comfort her from his own teasing.

He scans the document first before reading it. Hange is a good writer, but fiction is an entirely new genre for her. Immediately, he notices common habits from writing research papers leak into her new work: overexplaining, using words that are too formal for her target audience, sentences a little bit void from emotion.

He takes note of these comments on her notes app before going over her draft again, this time more meticulously than he had done previously. During this time, Hange finishes eating, wraps her trash and tosses them all inside the paper bag before standing up and dumping the entire thing inside her garbage bin.

“Levi,” she calls as she washes her hands through the sink faucet. Levi gives her the smallest hint that he’s listening by raising his eyebrow, but he doesn’t take his gaze away from her laptop. “I’m going to take a shower,” she announces, and he waves his hand dismissively.

Hange smiles to herself. Levi is always nagging her whenever she would accidentally hyperfixate on her writing, but he acts the same way when reading her works.

When Hange stepped inside the shower, Levi was already conducting a deep dive in her third chapter. The gears in his head slowly begin to turn as he begins to analyze her work.

The story revolved around the tales of the people who went to the clinic. The first chapter was a brief introduction on who the main characters were: There’s Janelle, a bright-eyed psychologist whose passion influenced the people around her. Together with El and Bea, her trusted assistants studying under her guidance, they would aid the people who went to the Hopiatria Clinic seeking care.

Meanwhile, the second chapter featured a child who felt as if she was being blamed for the death of her mother by her father. Her mother had died in a plane crash shortly after the young girl wished that her mom could go home on her sixth birthday. Janelle talks to the child gently while El and Bea provide emotional support, offering the child toys and biscuits whenever the need arises.

The third chapter was trickier, and it was there that Levi noticed a twist in Hange’s writing. The story revolved around a boy busy getting her doctorate, and a young girl who had been in love with him ever since they were in college. It’s the young girl who comes to Janelle’s office, and she relays the tale of her unrequited childhood romance to the psychologist.

The young girl is passionate, and wanted to take a step forward in order to guide her towards falling out of love with her best friend. Janelle presents two suggestions: (1) confession, while being fully-open to the possibility of rejection, and (2) accepting rejection without confession. The young girl decides to go with the first option, but to her surprise, the boy returns her feelings.

Everything seemed well-written up until the end of the chapter, where Hange had written,

And then they kissed.

Levi scrolled down the page, tilting his head to the side in slight confusion. That’s it? He thought, trying to find the rest.

Everything had been so well-described; from the girl’s internal turmoil—caused by her fear of destroying their friendship and the pain that came with unrequited love—to the boy confessing his own emotions for her.

The ending was anticlimactic, to say the least.

As he blinked at the google document in confusion, already typing out his comment on her notes app, Hange emerged from the bathroom. Her hair was loose on her shoulders, wet from her shower. Wrapped around her waist is his bathrobe, which she had borrowed from him long ago and never bothered to return it.

Levi scoffs as he glances in her direction. Here she was, parading with the cloth on and rubbing that specific fact in his face.

“Hey,” Hange greeted, smiling as she ran a hand through her brown locks, “How’s the reading going?”

“It was okay until the third chapter,” Levi says honestly, pointing the laptop screen in her direction. “The ending’s anticlimactic.”

Hange hummed, pursing her lips together. “Yeah. I didn’t really know how to end it,” she tells him as she opens her cabinet and grabs a few pieces of clothing. “Give me a bit, I’m going to change.”

She disappears into her room and Levi focuses on her story, trying to think of a way to spur Hange on and perhaps actively improve the ending’s writing.

Hange emerges in a loose t-shirt (which was, once again, his) and shorts. She sits down right beside him, leaning over his shoulder to glance at her laptop and read the specific line that particularly irked Levi.

“It’s that one, right?” Hange asks, pointing at the last sentence. “And then they kissed.”

“Yeah,” Levi responds, shaking his head. “Everything was so well-written up ‘till that point. You were able to describe the emotions perfectly, and the narration’s not that bad . . save for a few paragraphs that maybe should’ve stayed in your research papers.”

Hange chuckles. “Old habits die hard,” she responds, before taking her Macbook from his lap and transferring it to hers. “So what should I write?”

Levi shrugs. “I’m just your editor. You’re the writer.”

Hange pouts. “Yeah, but I don’t know how to make this better.”

“Maybe describe the scene more,” Levi suggests. “Everything ended so abruptly. Every emotion you’ve created and built disappeared in that one line.”

She nods in agreement. “But Levi,” Hange whines as she slumps her head on the back of her sofa and closes her eyes. “Kissing scenes are so tricky to write.”

Perhaps it’s the fact that it’s almost 5:30 in the morning. It could also be because he's tired from lack of sleep. Whatever the case, Levi Ackerman’s filter completely disappears when he asks, “Do you need a demonstration?”

Hange’s eyes shoot open immediately, and Levi’s face turns red just as quickly.

“F-Forget it,” he says, interrupting her just when he saw Hange open her mouth to speak. Any semblance of calm in his body disappears immediately, and his heart starts pounding against his chest in a rhythm that reminds him too much of a beating drum.

Hange, however, looks elated.

“You want to kiss me?” she tells him in excitement, blinking at him. “I’d like that. It could help me write this scene, you know.”

Levi looks away. “It was just a spur of the moment question.”

“So, you’re not going to kiss me?”

He actively avoids her gaze because he can already see from his peripheral vision that she looks sad, disappointed even. He grunts in response, closing his eyes and focusing his attention on a random spot on the wall.

“Oh,” Hange replies, “Well, I thought it was a good idea.”

Contrary to popular belief, Levi does want to kiss Hange. More than anything.

There were many reasons why: Because she looks so handsome and beautiful at the same time, and her very smile could light up any room she’d walk into. Because she says his name in the most endearing way. Because she understands his flaws. Because she has one of the kindest hearts he’s ever seen. Because she welcomes him with open arms, not a single thread of hesitation in her mind.

Most of all, it was simply because she was Hange.

He steals a glance in her direction, and she’s slightly fiddling with the hem of his shirt, her head downcast. Her sad expression tugs at hi

Levi thinks he’s already in this too deep, so he decides to speak.

“Did you want me to kiss you?”

From his periphery, he sees her look up at him so quickly he thought her neck would break. “What would you do if I said yes?”

He doesn’t dare turn his head in her direction when he replies quietly, “What do you think?”

“Would you kiss me?” Hange asks inquisitively, tilting her head to the side.

Levi’s heart skips a beat.

“Maybe,” he says in a voice barely above a whisper. “If you’d let me.”

Hange is silent for a moment, and Levi thinks this is it, I’m going to be rejected, but he feels a gentle finger touch his chin and turn his head in Hange’s direction.

He is met with her brown orbs, shining just a bit in what seemed like hidden glee. He cocks an eyebrow at her then, confused.

“I’m letting you,” Hange says, laughing. “Kiss me, I mean.” Her face is already slowly nearing his, and he can almost see the way her thick lashes brushed against her skin.

Slowly, Levi raises his head just a tiny bit and responds against her lips, “Okay.”

Hange smiles and closes the distance between them, wrapping her arms around his neck as he does the same around her waist. She tastes like the peppermint of her toothpaste, smells like his shampoo (which he had kept in her apartment since he always found himself staying over), and felt warm as her skin made contact with his. Hange's lips are gentle, slow, and a little shy—so different from how she usually is. Levi knows it’s because she doesn’t want to scare him off, so he makes the first move and nips at her lower lip, taking it between his teeth and sucking it gently.

She lets out a moan, and Levi takes this as a sign to continue. He slides his hand over her back, and she shudders and deepens the kiss at the same time. Her tongue meets his, and they battle for dominance. Hange’s hand sweeps over his undercut and pushes him towards him, and it is then that he lets out a sound that vaguely resembles pleasure.

After a few minutes, Hange whispers “Levi,” as her lips make contact with his. He hums in response, pulling his lips away from her and connecting his forehead with hers.

“Hange,” he says, breathless.

“Is this you telling me you like me?” Hange asks, closing her eyes.

He doesn’t form a reply through words, but he nods and closes his eyes as well.

“Great,” Hange tells him, pecking his lips with her own. “Because I like you too. Ever since I met you, I’ve liked you. Even though you were so rude to me on the first day of college.”

He chuckles silently in relief, pulling her closer to him before placing his chin on her shoulder. “Think you’ll be able to write the ending now that you know what a kiss feels like?”

Hange laughs, and it vibrates against his shoulder as she hugs him tighter. “It’s exhilarating. I probably wouldn’t be able to put into words how good I feel that you like me back.”

“Try,” Levi teases.

“Well . . . you know that alternative title I wrote for the fictional novel?”

Levi’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “The keyboard smash?”

Hange nods. “Yeah. That’s exactly what I feel like right now.”

a;lskfjdk.

#levihan #levi x hange #levihanweek 2021 #LHW 2021 #LHWeek Day 2

[fountainpenguin]

It’s an Update

Hello, Riddle here! I know I’ve been pretty quiet on Tumblr lately. Here’s an update on my situation:

I will definitely post more fanfic updates soon. I’ve picked at drafts, but haven’t posted anything lately. Here are the reasons why:

I got a new IRL job. It’s a good fit for me, but I have less free time than I used to, of course. It’s a job that involves writing lots of articles on a variety of topics, and I enjoy how every day is a little different

Most of my free time for the last year has gone towards my mod work at the Creature-Crossing ARPG, and to my personal CC writing. I’ve been working on new activities over there (my recent favorite being our seasonal familiar shows... I won first place in the summer show!) and I have a lot of plot plans that are coming together now. If you ever want to see my original characters and read my CC writing, you can find my character directory HERE and my Table of Contents HERE.

Once November 1st hits, I won’t be preparing for the release of any more CC activities or events. All future activity or event releases will be overseen by the other mods, and I’ll simply be someone they can ask for extra help if needed. This is a big change for a mod who spent the last 12 months working on new releases, and will give me back some of the free time my IRL job will eat

The Creature-Crossing admin (my boss) greenlit my request to bring an assistant on the mod team who will specifically help me with a lot of my behind-the-scenes work, such as data entry and organization. I’ve never had another mod who specifically helps me with the back end duties before, so that will be awesome. I will need to spend some time training them, but once they are official, that will take some of my workload off and allow me more free time for this blog and personal writing time.

===

Fanfic updates you can expect to see soon:

- Reedfilter Rules

- Frayed Knots

- Origin of the Pixies

- Debut of Factor It In, my Kid Math-centric “WordGirl” fanfic (Subtitled “Tales of a third-grade superhero in training”)... Yes I am still in love with this idiot boy, expect lots of doodle pages soon

- The 130 Prompts project is on a slow-burn writing schedule... I’ll write for it when I want to, but I mostly want to focus on Origin and Knots this year.

Further info below the cut. There is more info about non-Fairly OddParents ‘fics in here too (under “non-FOP fanfics”), so if you’re looking forward to Mario World or “WordGirl” ‘fics from me, give this a click so you know what’s coming!

So, what does this update mean for your fanfics?

They’ll be active again soon! I’ve been picking at them behind the scenes, trying to build up a buffer. In an ideal world, I would love to release a new chapter for SOMETHING every Friday. I doubt this will be possible, but it’s something I would love to work towards in the future. Realistically, you can probably expect some kind of fanfic update once every two Fridays (two updates per month).

There might be some Fridays where posting an update is not possible. Instead, I’ll make a post about what progress I made instead. In the past, I often overworked myself to get a chapter out in time for my old deadline. I will not be doing that anymore, but will instead hold myself to a goal of “Make progress on something every week.”

In the best ideal world, I would love to post one FOP fanfic update per week and one non-FOP fanfic update per week. This is not likely to happen for a long, long time, but that would be the dream.

-

Here are the things I most likely worked on if there is no fanfic update:

- A fanfic chapter draft that needs more time

- A sideblog profile

- A Toyhouse profile for personal characters

- IRL work or mod work may have kept me busy this week

- Creature-Crossing writing... I will try to prioritize my fanfics more, but my CC writing is still important to me and I will be working on it in a lot of my free time too. At the moment, I have a hard deadline of December 14th that I need to meet if I want to release huge plot drama on the day that it happens in canon. I’ve been building up to this for a long time, so I’m really excited about that.

I currently have summer or autumn 2022 planned as the “finale” for the majority of my plot to explode. I will be hosting a member-run event in Creature-Crossing that will last for two months, so a lot of my time from January until the event’s release will be spent doing event prep. Once the event ends, my story content will mostly be a “return to slice of life.” Stories will be more casual one-offs as characters grow, live their lives, and start their own families. Hitting seasonal deadlines for plot will no longer be so important. I’ll be giving Creature-Crossing work less attention after that, and much more attention to my fanfics.

- I may not have a fanfic chapter out each week, but I WILL post a note every Friday to let you know what I have been doing with my time. You’ll see me around. Feel free to send Asks and talk!

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What non-FOP fanfics would you like to work on?

For literal years, I’ve been claiming I want to post Mario World fanfics. This is still something I want to do. I tag Mario World posts as “mushrooms and more.” I’ve already done a lot of worldbuilding, I have thousands of words of content written for this fandom... I just haven’t posted any of it. I hope to do this soon.

- “WordGirl” fanfics are prioritized over Mario World fanfics. After I finish my first “WordGirl” multi-chapter, I will probably be ready to post my Mario World ‘fics. I may possibly post some Mario World one-shots in between other fanfic updates. Might take another year or more before I touch Mario stuff unless there’s high interest in seeing it sooner?

I also really want to write some WordGirl ‘fics and get more involved with the fandom community. I’ve been building headcanons and lore for this show ever since I was a kid, and I have multiple ‘fics for this fandom that I want to write.

- “AlgoRhythm” is a ‘fic I have already posted on FFN and AO3, about WordGirl introducing Kid Math to the villains in town

- 28 Cities is a ‘fic I started about Rhyme and Reason before they arrived in Fair City. I put it on hiatus since it didn’t seem like anyone was interested, but I’m willing to post more for it if there is interest in it now that years have passed and I’ve gotten more followers who like WordGirl. I have a lot of worldbuilding and plot I never shared for it

- Factor It In is a ‘fic I’ve been working for a while that parallels the official show from the moment Kid Math arrives in town. It focuses on Rex’s struggle to adjust to this world as a child coming into his superpowers for the first time (Y’know, the whole “superheroes don’t have powers when they’re on their home planets” thing), his struggle to adapt to the social world of a non-logical planet, and Becky’s struggle to help him become accustomed to Earth and learn to share it with her as well. If the episode “Kid Math” was a full-length novel about Rex’s arrival and character development, that’s what this story is. This is the highest priority of all my non-FOP ‘fics... I’ve had a cover image made for 6 months and even though I tried setting it aside, I’ve always been super inspired to write for it. If I felt like it would be a good idea to commit to weekly updates alongside my FOP updates, I would, haha.

- I have two one-shot WIPs called “Squishy Feelings” and “A Little Ambiguity”, one of them focusing on Becky and Rex talking about the events of “Rhyme and Reason” and what it means for Rex’s secret identity, and the latter being a future ‘fic showing WordGirl and Kid Math dealing with life 10 to 15 years down the road. I’ll probably post the latter, not sure yet on the former.

- If desired, I may make a WordGirl specific sideblog where I post lore, answer Asks, post character profiles [smaller than my FOP sideblog ones], and mention fanfic updates. If you would be interested in this, feel free to send me an Ask requesting I do this. If there’s not interest, I’ll just keep my WordGirl stuff on the main blog.

- I’d like to get more involved in the WordGirl community, so I’ll probably post more content and reblog more art and headcanons

I also have a handful of miscellaneous ideas I might follow through with. I’d like to write at least one “TUFF Puppy” fanfic so I can say I did. In a perfect world I would like to finish the two “Danny Phantom” and “Bunsen Is a Beast” fanfics I started because... I just kind of want to dip my toe in each of the Hartman shows once since I already went through all the effort of worldbuilding for them to make them canon in a single Hartman show universe. “ChalkZone” is another show I adore and might touch someday (You may recall I have a full outline planned for an FOP/ChalkZone crossover ‘fic called “Dust to Dust”).

Will I write all of these things? Maybe not. I have no idea if I want to spend the next 10+ years writing fanfics, or if I’ll simply be done with all misc. fanfics immediately once I decide to be done with my main ‘fics. I definitely intend to write for a few more years and finish my main ‘fics, but I might not go through with some less popular side ‘fics if life is getting busy for me.

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What is the posting schedule for FOP ‘fics?

Reedfilter Rules, Frayed Knots, Origin of the Pixies, the 130 Prompts project, and “Come What May” are all high priority FOP writings. I will swap between them depending on my mood that week.

Here are some other ‘fics I want to work on.

- If you like, you can send me Asks requesting I work on a specific story above the rest. I will try to prioritize whichever stories interest you guys most.

Snips and Snails is a ‘fic I started and posted the first chapter for years ago. I’m not sure when I will get back to it, as I ran into some writer’s block. It’s still on tentative hiatus for now..... Possibly forever, though I hope it isn’t forever since it’s only supposed to be, like, five more chapters.

Pink and Gray is on official hiatus. I actually have a lot written for it, but I know it’s a little weird to put so much time and energy into Gary and Betty content when... well, let’s be honest: they’re my niche favorites and most of you probably don’t care. So, I am lifting my usual “no spoilers” policy from my Ask Box. If you would like to ask about my Gary and Betty backstory headcanons, feel free. I will tag my replies as “ridwriting spoilers” for anyone who wants to blacklist the tag, and spoilers will be hidden under a Read More line. 

I’d like to return to this story someday because there are tons of things I like about it (ranging from Betty’s secret tattoos to Gary’s plot drama with his mom to the background drama between Talon and Anti-Cosmo, but I always feel immense pressure to make it extra cool to make up for the fact these are weird side characters, so... it’s officially at the bottom of the priority pile. Once Talon shows up in Frayed Knots and readers understand who he is and why he exists, I’ll consider coming back to it.

Identity Theft is a story about Foop and his time in the alternate dimension he was flung into following the episode “Playdate of Doom.” To put it short, Foop was abused by alternate versions of his parents in this dimension and he witnessed some pretty intense stuff, including the death of the alt version of himself who existed in that reality. The trauma he experienced resulted in his alternate personality, Hiccup. Foop himself has very few memories of what happened, as Hiccup has all of those memories. This story is canon in my works, and it is regularly referred to during the 130 Prompts as part of Foop’s backstory. It’s my highest priority side story to work on.

Along the Cherry Lane is a 20-chapter work focusing on the lives of the main human cast from age 11 to age 30, with one chapter showing a snippet of their lives each year. You see Timmy raising Tommy and Tammy in this ‘fic, and it ends with them receiving godparents. Since the 130 Prompts don’t give humans much attention, this ‘fic does. You’ll probably see it debut two years from now, closer to when the 130 Prompts is ready to talk more about humans.

If this becomes a popular ‘fic of mine, I’ll probably write a sequel or continue it past Chapter 30 and write about Tammy and Tommy living with fairies, but I won’t if there’s no interest in that.

Little Imperfections is a Pixie AU ‘fic of mine about what life would be like in a universe where the Fairies are even more like insects than I play them as during my main works (where I already play them as semi-similar to insects). In this world, the Head Pixie is a figurehead whose duty is to reproduce for the sake of the colony and do nothing else, and he’s bored out of his mind until he befriends Sanderson, who introduces him to music. It’s extremely self-indulgent and silly because I like Pixies.

Francis is a multi-chapter ‘fic about bully Francis’s life getting yet another fairy godparent in a long string of memory wipes and godparents. It takes place during the canon series, and when you see an “orange fairy” mentioned in some of my writings, it’s usually referring to this fairy. His name is Rover and I occasionally post art of him. I feel like I can’t truly call myself an FOP fanfic writer until I actually write about a godkid and their godparents, haha...

Hawthorn Haven is a side ‘fic that will be posted towards the end of the 130 Prompts, as it veers off from the prompts in its own self-contained multi-chapter story. It will be approximately the length of “Baby, You’re a Rich Man.”

Acacia Arcadia is a far-past ‘fic detailing the fall of the ancient fae, the imprisonment of the nature spirits, the rise and fall of the chimera nation, the fall of the Martian genies, and the early days of the cloudlands. This is close to the bottom of the priority pile... It’s something I spend time on for personal reference to ensure accuracy in my other ‘fics, but it’s probably not what you guys came here to read.

AA has a bunch of characters in it that you might vaguely recognize, such as Ezekiel Whimsifinado, Evadne, Ione, Two Feathers, Rho, and Sablewood (If you’re astute, you might recall cloudland legends and landmarks in modern day that refer back to these characters). There are also a lot of characters who were reincarnated as Anti-Fairies, in accordance to traditional Anti-Fairy beliefs; Foop for example exists as a main character in one of his past lives, and you’ll see a hint dropped about each of his lives in the first chapter of Identity Theft. My tentative plan is to use Foop’s past lives as my central characters, following the events of each part of the timeline until he gets killed and reincarnates at a later point of the timeline.

I also keep some one-shots in a file I call Mixed Nuts and I may possibly post them someday (they’re mostly just one-shots of main cast characters I do to get a feel for their personalities, I have some Wanda and Cupid in here). @zachbrightside and I are also working on a collab ‘fic called Like a House On Fire that shows more of Timmy and Chloe’s lives during Season 10 (especially around the time of “Which Is Wish?”) No news on a release date for that yet.

-

As I’ve said before, once all my other FOP works are complete, I will write Devil’s Backbone, which is my far-future ‘fic and the finale of my FOP writing. I do not plan to write any more FOP content after that story is finished, as I expect to have all other FOP projects done by then.

- Devil’s Backbone is a finale 'fic, so all worldbuilding from all stories is fair game to blend together, and it’s highly recommended you read everything else first. This story has been outlined since 2016, and it might not be published for another 10 years... Who knows! But it’s something I always work towards as a concrete endgame goal.

- If something serious comes up in my life and I officially decide I don’t want to write this story, I will post the outline for it. The link to this draft is included with all the other Google Docs links I have in a far-future queued post unveiling my WIPs in case I unexpectedly die and you still want to know how my stories would have gone, so you’ll get access to this story eventually even if I die young. Yes, share access is turned on for them all and I do take extra careful measures to be sure that post doesn’t get posted early skldfj

===

What is the plan for the main blog?

Every Friday, I will post either a fanfic chapter or a progress update. You can blacklist the tag “ridlife” if you do not want to see the progress updates on your dashboard. Fanfic updates will not have the “ridlife” tag, so you will not be blocking them.

During the rest of the week, I might post doodles, reblogs, or general comments. Basically... you’ll see the blog become active again. Feel free to send in Asks about my worldbuilding and thoughts on fanfic characters.

@fountainpenguin is my personal blog, so you will see non-fandom things on here sometimes

@riddledeep is my FOP-exclusive sideblog. It contains all my lore notes and goes into a ton of depth, more than my fanfics give in one breath

===

What does this mean for the Riddledeep sideblog?

I really want to go back and edit those character profiles that were posted early by mistake. The reason they were queued is because if I turned them into drafts, they would have been buried all the way at the beginning of my draft collection, and I have many, many drafts saved. There are no page numbers to navigate quickly through the draft collection, so I would have to click through each page one by one if I ever wanted to look at them. I hated doing this, which is why I kept my posts queued.

I was regularly updating the queue deadlines, trying to keep things in the order I wanted to post them in, but Tumblr made a change to the way drafts are dated and it kept throwing off my system. My inability to remember when my queued things would post combined with my busy schedule led to some profiles being posted early and incomplete. I want to fix these.

Over a year ago, my good friend Vulpix150 helped me finalize my designs for the Aos Sí and Daoine Sith. I’ve been sitting on that art in secret for a while, and at some point I plan to post it on the sideblog and talk more about that lore.

Updating fanfics is my higher priority (and it was the priority my followers voted for when I asked you to send votes to my Ask Box a while back). So, I will usually spend my free time working on fanfics unless I need a break from them and want to work on sideblog profiles instead. Thank you for your patience!

===

TL;DR

I’m posting fanfics again soon. I’m going to take a more relaxed approach to posting them. I’m going to post more of what I want to post and what I feel motivated to post, not always a main ‘fic update. If I’m not “feeling it” when working on a draft, then I’ll set it aside for a while unless I know my followers and readers have high interest in the next chapter of that story. I always write for me first, but if I know there are other people who care a lot about a story, then of course I want to write it for you too!

I’m going to embrace my decade-long love for WordGirl and post more ‘fics and art or this fandom. I’ve always been a little shy about doing this, but I’m ready to make it an official fandom on my main blog (unless there are lots of requests for WordGirl things to be contained in their own sideblog). I will be posting the first chapter for a ‘fic called Factor It In very soon. Love my easily frustrated alien kiddos having a long day.

I am working on Creature-Crossing stuff too, and will be especially busy in November and December. Updates will be slow for a few months, but I hope to find my groove and a good pace soon.

Each Friday, I will post either a fanfic update or a mention of what I am working on. I will be checking in on Tumblr regularly. Feel free to talk! I much prefer you send messages to my Ask Box, not my private messenger, please <3

===

Is there a specific story of mine you like and want more updates for?

Asks and reviews help me know which ‘fics people are enjoying. I plan to keep writing ‘fics no matter what, but I definitely give more time to the ‘fics that get more attention (and I have been spending so much time writing for Creature-Crossing because that’s where the attention was coming from)

It’s easy to stay motivated and get the next part of a story out soon if I know that people like it. It’s always harder if you feel like people are silently judging you and ignoring your posts. So, let me know what you’re interested in. And if you only leave Likes or Favorites instead of asks and reviews, that’s okay too! Thank you for interacting anyway and enjoying my work.

Thanks for reading!

#WordGirl #Factor It In #Kid Math #FAIRIES! #ridlife #riddleverse mention #ridwriting #Mushrooms and more #Satirical vocab alien child show #Frayed Knots #130 Prompts #Origin of the Pixies #Pink and Gray #Acacia Arcadia #Devil's Backbone #Hawthorn Haven #Along the Cherry Lane

[womenstan]

I See You When You Run From The Light (within your eyes) - Chapter 3

Ao3 Title : The end of the line Chapter :

When he woke up, the first thing Robbe felt was warmth. It was all-enveloping, seeping through his every muscle. He felt so relaxed and at peace that he found himself wishing he’d never have to get out of bed. Just lay there forever wrapped up in the covers that were hugging him close. He snuggled a little deeper, trying to get a hold of the covers to bring them closer to his body, only to lay his hand on something far too hard to be silk.

Robbe’s eyebrows furrowed together in confusion as he tried patting the surface, trying to understand what was thrown over his stomach, but feeling far too lazy to open up his eyes and be attacked by the sun rays.

“Why are you feeling up my arm?” A voice chuckled, deep, next to his ear.

Robbe startled, opening both his eyes at once, only to lay his eyes on the blonde body next to him. Sander, of course . He’d forgotten they’d both gone back to his place after the party last night, Sander insisting until Robbe caved under his adorable mimics.

Laughing, Robbe switched to softly caressing Sander’s arms, making him smile softly. “Royal secret. If I told you, they’d have to kill you.” He said, trying to sound serious, but ending up barely containing his laughter.

Sander snorted, playing along. “They? Do you have body guards then?”

“Oh yes, only the best ones in the whole country. From the King’s own personal army!”

Sander smirked, in that way that told you he was about to crack a joke he was particularly proud of. He lifted his hand up, bringing it on Robbe’s biceps, “Good, there’s no way you’d be able to defend yourself with such small arms anyways.”

Robbe scoffed indignantly, swatting Sander’s hand away. “Me? Small arms? I’ll show you small arms”, Robbe said, before launching himself on top of Sander, trying to immobilize him. Sander laughed, pushing back. They kept pushing at each other for a while until Robbe decided to show off a little.

In one swift motion, he got one leg over Sander’s hips, effectively straddling him and preventing him from moving away. Sander let out a small gasp of surprise and Robbe used that momentary confusion as an opportunity to grab both his wrists and pin them down to the mattress.

Chest heaving, Robbe smiled, lowering himself over Sander, pressing his arms further into the covers. Sander was panting too, even more so than Robbe was.

“Still think I’m too weak to defend myself?” Robbe teased, proudly.

While Robbe had been expecting more teasing, Sander’s face softened and he relaxed his body under Robbe’s. “I think you’re perfect.”

The fondness in Sander’s voice took Robbe by surprise and, for a moment, he wasn’t sure how to respond. If it’d been anyone else… but it wasn’t. This was Sander and he was like this, always affectionate and saying things like this without realizing what they sounded like.

So, Robbe laughed, brushing the remark aside with a soft ‘idiot’, which only made Sander’s smile widden. He rolled off of him, laying back on the bed and sighing deeply.

“I don’t want to get up, like, ever.” Turning his head towards Sander, he added, “Can we just stay here forever?”

Much to Robbe’s confusion, Sander shook his head. “No way”

Getting up on one elbow and turning his whole body towards Sander, Robbe asked, “What? Why not?”

Sander didn’t answer at first, throwing his feet off the bed and onto the floor. He got up and turned towards Robbe expectantly.  When he didn’t hear any sound coming from Robbe, Sander threw his hands up in exasperation, a small smirk playing on his lips.

“ Because , Robin, I’m going to make you the best breakfast you’ve ever had”

Robbe hesitated, chuckling slightly in case it’d been a joke, but Sander seemed dead serious, extending an arm towards Robbe.

“Allez, come”

Robbe sighed, putting his hand in Sander’s and letting himself be tugged up. “Sander…”

Robbe’s whining didn’t deter Sander however, as he led them to the kitchen.

“Ok, get me a pan, some bread and, hm… Ah! Cheese” Sander said, dropping Robbe’s hand in favour of feeling around on the counter to find the stove.

Robbe squinted his eyes at him, slightly worried this wasn’t going to end well. “Sander… Can you even… Like, since you can’t…?”

Sander turned towards Robbe. “Since I can’t see? I’m twenty years old, Robbe, I’ve used a stove before. Don’t worry, just get me the ingredients, you’ll see.”

Still uncertain, Robbe walked slowly towards the cabinets, bringing one over to Sander.

“Ok, I’m going to trust you Sander, but if you burn down the apartment, I’m telling Milan it was your fault” Robbe added, only half-jokingly.

Sander waved him off, before starting the stove.

After a while, Robbe caught onto what Sander was making him.

“Croques? Really? Is that even breakfast food?”

Sander tutted him disapprovingly. “Robbe, everything can be breakfast food if you eat it at breakfast.”

“I don’t think that’s how this works Sander, but whatever you say…” Robbe teased, sitting up on the counter next to where Sander was cooking.

Sander sighed, reaching for a knife and cutting the first croque in half. He took it in his left hand, reaching it out to Robbe. “Stop complaining and try this”

“I’m not even com-” Robbe began, before being interrupted by Sander quite literally shoving the croque into his mouth. He made a noise of complaint, but bit into it anyway, determined to scold Sander immediately after.

Only, as soon as he began to chew, Robbe felt his taste buds explode with joy. The flavour was perfect, the crispiness impeccable, every single bite into the food felt like a whole experience of its own. Robbe couldn’t help but let out a very satisfied hum, making Sander’s face beam with pride.

“Good, right?” He said, clearly already aware of the answer.

Robbe finished swallowing his bite before he answered, sounding bewildered. “Good? Sander, I’m convinced this is the best croque ever made”

Sander blushed a little under the compliment, dipping his head downwards. “I mean, I told you I wasn’t going to fuck this up”

Robbe smiled, extending his arm to ruffle Sander’s hair fondly. “I know, I’m sorry for doubting you. My mind is truly blown right now. I’m going to force you to come over every day to make me breakfast from now on”

Sander only raised his head, softly letting out a “Anytime”.

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

The rest of his weekend passed by in a happy blur, his time spent between joking around with Sander and catching up on his homework. But, as all things do, monday eventually came around the corner, and with it came university.

In all fairness, this time, something else was exceeding his dread of having to go to class: the thought of seeing Noor.

She’d been texting him all weekend, but he’d managed to ignore her easily enough by staying busy. In school though, it would be a lot harder to avoid her.

The worst thing was that he knew he’d promised Sander he would break up with Noor. And it made sense: all they did lately was argue and get mad at each other. So, the problem wasn’t that Robbe didn’t think they should break up, but rather that he would do literally anything to avoid confrontation.

He hated it more than anything else. He didn’t want to hurt Noor, although he supposed ignoring all of her messages and calls was probably also hurting her. If he’d listen to himself, he would simply fire her a breakup text to get it over with, but he wasn’t that shitty.

So, while he was trying to gather the courage to walk up to her and get this over with, his plan was to avoid seeing her at all cost. The good thing about them being together for a while was that he pretty much knew her schedule by now, so he could try to take alternate paths to his classes or hang-out in different spots during his breaks.

It wasn’t exactly convenient, but it wouldn’t be for long anyway. Robbe was going to break up with Noor soon enough and then everything would go back to usual. Or, well, almost everything.

At least, that’s what he told himself Monday, as he had to take a five minutes long detour to get to his first class just so he wouldn’t run into Noor, who had a class next to him.

Coincidentally, it’s also what he told himself Tuesday. He was going to hang out with the guys in the cafeteria for lunch, as they had a common break. Only, as he’d made his way towards the cafeteria, he’d seen Noor exiting the girl’s bathroom and walking in the same direction. He’d quickly fired a text to the boys with a dumb excuse about having forgotten a textbook at home and ran the other way. He ate outside.

On Wednesday, Robbe had been determined to do it. He’d even drafted a little ‘it’s not you, it’s me’ speech the night before. So, he was ready, right? Except, he’d barely made two steps in Noor’s direction before he was stopped by Yasmina who needed him now , and ‘ no, Robbe, it can’t wait ’.

Turns out one of her friends was into Aaron - which, really? Aaron? - and they needed Robbe to subtly figure out if Aaron could be interested too.

“Yasmina, it’s Aaron . As long as she’s got two eyes and a heartbeat, I’m pretty sure he’ll be up for it.” Robbe sighed, trying not to appear as aggravated as he was. Seriously, did she need to have such a shit timing?

That led him to Thursday, at which point Robbe was almost convinced the universe was against this break up. He’d waited for her before his first class, but to no avail, as she didn’t even show up.

They had one break in common that day, around 1pm, but Thursday afternoons were reserved to hang out with Sander, and Robbe was not about to cancel on him just so he could break up with Noor. So, Robbe decided it would have to wait until friday, as he threw his bag over his shoulder and made his way towards the library where he knew Sander was waiting.

Robbe stopped at the tiny student coffee shop on his campus, ordering for both Sander and him. While he waited in line, he quickly shot Sander a text message to let him know he was done with his class and on his way to him, smiling dumbly at Sander’s answering ‘:D’.

He’d been so busy between school, first trying to avoid Noor, and then trying to find her, that he’d barely had time to text Sander since the weekend, let alone see him. He was glad they could still honour their Thursday tradition, just the two of them hanging out without having to worry about anything - or anyone - else.

The barista handed Robbe the two cups and Robbe hurried to the table where he knew Sander would already be sitting, all of his books and material spread over the table. Sander would probably be hunched over some paper, drawing, that concentrated look on his face. He would slightly stick his tongue out, sitting in between his teeth, his eyebrows furrowed and his hair falling in front of his face. Robbe had to admit it was quite the sight.

At first, Robbe had wondered how Sander could be an artist, seeing as he was blind. He’d always just assumed blind people had no way to draw, since they couldn’t see the paper, the colours or the drawing itself. Sander had simply snorted at that, before patiently explaining his method to Robbe.

He used mostly textured art, like pastel or paint. He’d draw with one hand, alternating between tracing the surface of whatever he wanted drawn and the surface of the paper with the other one. Robbe’s curiosity had pushed him to ask for a demonstration, and Sander had gladly obliged.

It was a fascinating process, and the respect and appreciation Robbe already had for Sander’s talent grew tenfold in the space of a single drawing. He’d just looked at Sander, moving seamlessly across the paper and found himself speechless. The only thought that came to him was that Sander was clearly in his element, that he belonged to the arts.

Still now, every time he’d had the privilege of catching Sander drawing, he’d been overwhelmed with this feeling of pride and warmth, watching entire worlds take form on the blank pages under Sander’s touch.

Sometimes, Robbe found himself thinking that Sander had the ability to make everything he touched turn into art. From the dull beige paper cup of coffee that could rival Albert Anker’s Coffee Drinking once it was held in between Sander’s fingers, to Robbe’s own pale skin that shined bright pink under Sander’s soft strokes.

Or the way he was stroking his hand through his hair right as Robbe walked up to him, pulling it back off of his forehead. That was true art.

Robbe shook the thought out of his head as he scraped back the chair next to Sander and sat down, slowly pushing Sander’s coffee to his hand.

“Robin! Finally!” Sander exclaimed enthusiastically, making Robbe chuckle.

“Missed me?” Robbe teased, taking a sip of his own coffee.

“Obviously,” Sander answered, sending him a beaming smile

Robbe laughed, getting his books out of his bag and carefully placing them next to Sander’s stuff on the table.

“What are you drawing?” He asked Sander, trying to peek into his open sketchbook.

Sander smirked, closing his sketchbook before Robbe could properly distinguish the shapes.

“Wouldn’t you like to know, huh?” He teased, making Robbe drop his head to the side in fond exasperation.

“Yes,” Robbe sighed, “I would like to.” He tried to sound annoyed, but he couldn’t help the smile slowly etching its way up his face.

“How badly?” Sander asked, his growing smile indicating he had a joke ready to go.

Robbe rolled his eyes, sighing loudly. “As bad as-”

“Robbe fucking Izjermans!”

Oh . Oh no .

Robbe whipped his head towards the voice, while Sander visibly startled on his chair, dropping his smile instantly.

Robbe mentally groaned when he saw he’d been right about who this voice belonged to. From the library’s entrance, Noor was storming his way, a visible scowl on her face.

Why was it that when Robbe was trying to find her, she was nowhere to be found, but as soon as he’d wanted a moment of peace, she suddenly showed up? What had Robbe done to get such bad karma?

“Noor,” Robbe sighed, “What are you doing here?”

Noor raised an eyebrow, coming to a halt in front of Robbe, arms crossed in front of her chest.

“What do you think I’m doing here? You’ve been ignoring all of my texts and I couldn’t find you anywhere!” Noor half-screamed, earning them a few dirty looks from nearby students.

Before Robbe could answer, Sander scoffed loudly.

“What? You got a problem?” Noor asked him, clearly offended by his reaction.

Sander sighed, bracing himself on the table as he got up to properly face Noor.

“Look, I get that you’re pissed, but Robbe dumped you. He doesn’t owe you anything.” Sander said, keeping his voice levelled, although Robbe could hear the hidden layer of frustration.

It took Robbe’s brain a few seconds to properly realize what Sander had just said, and when he did, it was already too late.

Noor made a surprised noise in the back of her throat, halfway through anger and disbelief.

“Dumped me? What the hell are you talking about?” Noor said, chuckling humourlessly. “Don’t mistake your dreams for reality, Anders.”

Robbe stood up at once, feeling all the blood drain from his face.

“Noor, come on, let’s talk in private.”

Robbe made a move to step towards Noor, but Sander’s arm shot up in front of him, barely missing his face by a few centimeters.

“Robbe didn’t break up with you?” Sander asked, turned in the general direction Noor was in.

Robbe didn’t know what hurt more, the anger in Sander’s voice or the look of pure disappointment on his face.

“Sander, look,” Robbe began, desperately trying to diffuse the whole situation.

Noor’s laugh cut him off, loud and obnoxious, clearly meant to irritate Sander. It seemed to work wonders, as Sander’s jaw clenched in response.

“I don’t know what kind of fucked up fantasies you’ve got going on in your head, Sander, but this is the real world. I guess you might be too crazy to understand what that is.” Noor spit out.

The words hit Sander the same way a punch would have. He stumbled a little backwards, dropping his arm. He turned around, hastily threw all of his stuff inside his bag in a jumble, picked his bag up and walked away without a word.

“Sander!” Robbe yelled, cringing at the desperation he could hear in his own voice. “Sander, wait!”

Robbe started putting his papers back into his own bag, determined to run after Sander, but Noor’s fingers settled around his arm, pulling him back softly.

“Come on, Robbe. Let him be, he’s not good for you anyway.” Noor said, smiling as if Robbe’s world wasn’t falling apart in front of him.

Robbe gave a sharp tug on his arm, freeing himself from Noor’s hold. He shook his head at her, feeling rage boiling up inside of him and threatening to overflow.

“You know what, Noor? We’re through. Over, done, finished!” Robbe yelled, too angry to find it in himself to care that the entire library was witness to their spectacle.

Robbe threw his bag over his shoulder and stormed towards the entrance, where Sander’s back had disappeared barely a few seconds ago.

“What the fuck, Robbe? Do you not love me anymore?” Noor asked, her voice high-pitched and frail.

Robbe sighed, turning back around to face her one last time.

“You’re cruel, Noor. You’re just cruel.” He said, voice tired.

He didn’t wait around to hear her try to convince him he was wrong and that Sander had somehow manipulated him, instead choosing to take off after Sander.

Robbe’s heart was beating so fast that he feared it might fly straight out of his chest. His mind was immediately going to the worst scenarios, telling him Sander would never forgive him, that it was over, that there was no point going after him... But Robbe knew better than that.

He knew that Sander was probably the best thing in his life right now and that he wasn’t going to let him walk away.

So, out he ran, the heavy library doors shutting behind him with a loud ‘thump’ .

Robbe looked around frantically, trying to spot a patch of blond hair in the sparse crowd of students, but to no avail. He ran his fingers through his hair, tugging a little at the strands in frustration.

That’s when he heard a loud crash coming from the boys’ washroom, and something clicked inside his head. He ran towards the room, which warranted him a couple side-looks, but his attention was focused on one sole thing: getting to Sander.

Inside, there didn’t appear to be anyone. All the stalls seemed closed, and the general area was empty. As Robbe stepped further in, he heard a small sniffling sound that broke his heart at once.

He put his bag down against the wall and walked along the stalls, softly pushing the doors open. When he reached the third to last one of the row, the door didn’t open, locked from the inside.

Robbe sighed softly. “Sander?”

The sniffling stopped.

“Sander, please. I just want to explain.”

Nothing but silence.

Robbe leaned his forehead on the door with a small thud.

“I’m sorry, Sander. I really am. I… I should have told you,” Robbe began, unsuccessfully trying to swallow the lump in his throat. “I did mean to break up with her.”

A scof came from the stall, turning into a sob halfway through, and Robbe wondered if there was any piece of his heart left to shatter.

“Sander…” Robbe whispered, worry seeping through his tone. “I’m not lying. I spent the week looking for her too. I couldn’t do it over text, that’s just… I’m not an asshole. Or, trying not to be.” Robbe explains, “I broke up with her just now. What she said to you…” Letting out a frustrated sigh, Robbe shakes his head at the memory. “She’s so horrible. I’m so sorry Sander”

“Don’t be.” Sander’s voice came from the stall, muffled. “She’s right,” He laughed, but it was a bitter sound.

“Sander, no. She isn’t.” Robbe said, a little destabilized at Sander’s sudden lack of self-confidence.

He heard Sander breathe in deeply inside the stall, and Robbe prepared himself for the worst.

“I’m fucking crazy, Robbe, ok? I’m bipolar.” Sander yelled, but he didn’t sound angry. All Robbe could hear was pain, and fear. Just so much fear. “So, yeah, she’s right. She’s right and you should probably go before I fuck up your life too.”

The silence that hung between them after Sander’s declaration was heavy. Robbe felt suffocated under the weight, and he could only begin to try to imagine how Sander was feeling.

“Sander,” He said, keeping his voice low but firm. “Let me in.”

Time stood still as Robbe waited for Sander to make a decision. Seconds passed by, maybe even minutes, Robbe wasn’t sure how long he stayed there, forehead against the door.

Slowly, he stepped back, prepared to argue his way into the stall, when he heard the lock slide open. The door didn’t budge, but Robbe wasn’t mistaken. This was Sander’s way of letting him in, both literally and figuratively.

Robbe took a deep breath, slowly pushing the door open. Sander was leaning on the opposite wall, head hung low and turned away from Robbe, in an attempt to hide his distress.

Robbe slowly closed the door behind him, locking it, before turning back to Sander. The stall wasn’t big and with the two of them, the space was definitely cramped. Robbe took that to his advantage, merely raising his arms to be able to graze Sander’s shoulders.

Sander stiffened, but didn’t move away. Robbe took that as an encouragement and, little by little, wrapped his arms around Sander’s now-trembling form. As soon as Sander’s chest collided with Robbe’s, Robbe felt Sander’s entire body give up on him.

Sander hid his face in Robbe’s shoulder, body limp in Robbe’s arms. As for Robbe, he had one arm caressing Sander’s back in large, circular motions, while the other was stroking his hair softly. He could feel Sander shake through his sobs, but Robbe ignored the urge to make him stop crying.

Sander needed to let it out, and Robbe would be there for him, even if it killed him to see Sander suffering.

Robbe whispered a steady stream of ‘it’s ok’, ‘I’m here’ and ‘let it out’ into Sander’s ear, and slowly but surely, Sander relaxed against him and his sobbing subdued.

When Robbe felt like Sander had calmed back down, he took his chance.

“Sander, you’re not crazy.” Robbe started, making Sander snort humorlessly. “You’re not. Having bipolar doesn’t make you crazy, Sander. And it’s definitely not going to make me go away.”

Robbe tugged Sander back, just enough to look at him as he said, “You’re not some kind of monster, Sander, and you sure as hell aren’t ruining my life. You’re like, the best person in my life right now.”

Sander’s eyes glistened with tears that threatened to fall, but the corner of his lips lifted up a little at that.

“I don’t care what happened between you and Britt, and I care even less about what Noor thinks of you. I know you, and I know that you’re an amazing, caring and talented person that I want in my life for as long as you want to be.” Robbe said, all at once, like the words were spilling out of his mouth the same way Sander’s tears were spilling out of his eyes. Out of his control, filled to the brim with emotions, but, oh, so liberating.

Sander stayed silent, a thunderstorm of emotions hidden in the quiet. Robbe was suddenly glad Sander couldn’t see him, because he was pretty sure his face looked like an open book, and he wasn’t ready to confront what was written on it yet.

He didn’t know why exactly, couldn’t pinpoint what it was about this moment specifically, about Sander’s stare, but it felt like something had shifted between them. Like there would be a before this, and an after this.

Robbe smiled at Sander, stroking his hair one last time before unwrapping his arms from around him.

Sander laughed, wiping at his wet cheeks in embarrassment. “I can’t believe we had this conversation in the school’s bathroom.”

Robbe chuckled, shaking his head. “I have no idea what you’re talking about, Sander. I have all of my heart-to-hearts in school bathrooms!”

Sander raised an eyebrow, a teasing look on his face. “The empty paper toilet dispensers and the vague urine smells really do it for you, huh?”

Robbe tried to suppress his smile, keeping his tone serious. “Oh, yeah. Big time!”

Sander wiggled his eyebrows suggestively, and Robbe responded by giving him a light push on the arm. They made their way out of the washroom, while Robbe avoided the stares of curious students wondering what all the fuss had been about (and probably questioning the tear streaks on both of their faces…).

When they reached the front doors, Robbe hesitated a moment, holding Sander back with a hand to his forearm. Sander stopped, turning back in Robbe’s direction.

“Do you maybe wanna go hang out at my flat?” Robbe asked, cringing at how fast his heartbeat had gotten at the simple sentence. He never got anxious when he asked the boys to hang around, although he hadn’t done so in a long time. So, why was it that whenever he had to ask Sander to hang out, Robbe’s hands got clammy and his heartbeat increased tenfold?

Sander just snorted in response, which only served to make Robbe even more apprehensive.

“You scared me! Of course, I do.” Sander said, now smiling brightly at Robbe.

Robbe wanted to be a little mad at Sander making fun of his hesitation, but he couldn’t help but beam in response, a comfortable warmth settling in his stomach.

They walked to the flatshare, arms locked at the crook of their elbows (if anyone asked, Robbe would say it was to guide Sander, despite them both knowing that Sander didn’t actually need it).

It was a sunny day, and it would have been too warm for Sander’s leather jacket had there not been a chilly breeze flowing through the air. Robbe wasn’t much of a fan of warm days, but when he saw the way the sunlight hit Sander’s face, perfectly illuminating his side profile of a golden hue, he figured he’d like them a lot more from now on.

Robbe couldn’t make himself look away from Sander’s face, intoxicated by the way it looked under the daylight. From the curve of his nose, to the way his eyes glistened, everything about Sander’s face had Robbe in a trance-like state.

He did eventually turn away, after he’d stumbled over a crack in the pavement and Sander had made fun of him, asking ‘who’s the blind one, huh?’ Sander had only been teasing, but Robbe figured it might be smarter for them to have at least a pair of eyes on the road.

Once they reached the apartment, Robbe didn’t even have to unlock the door to know that everyone was home. The sounds of cheers and laughter came through the door and resonated all the way to the staircase, warming Robbe’s heart instantly.

He barely had time to open the door and usher Sander in, before he was attacked by a swarm of bodies.

“Milan, you’re kind of crushing me” Robbe croaked out, the strength of Milan’s hug pressing all of his internal organs together painfully.

Milan loosened his arms immediately and stepped back, an apologetic smile on his face.

“So, what? Robbe gets all the love and I get none?” Sander asked, with a small (irresistible) pouth.

“Sander! Of course you do, come here!” Milan exclaimed, practically jumping in Sander’s arms. Zoë followed suit immediately, eyeing Senne, who just shrugged before joining in. Robbe laughed, moving to take his shoes off before they could attack him again.

“Come on guys, don’t suffocate him to death!” Robbe said, which got him a snort from Sander in response.

“You’re just jealous Robin,” Sander said, winking. The group hug slowly dissolved, as Milan let out a ‘ooooh burn!’ that made Robbe shake his head, amused.

“Sure, I am. It’s not like I’ve hugged you a thousand times before already” Robbe teased, while everyone returned to whatever they were doing in the kitchen.

Sander bent down to untie his shoes, shaking his head. “See, that’s precisely it. I’ve got you addicted”

Robbe laughed, sending a small ‘you wished’ Sander’s way, seemingly unaffected, despite his heart that skipped a beat in fear at Sander’s words.

They navigated to Robbe’s room, where Sander immediately laid down on the bed in a star shape.

Robbe went to his desk and took his books out of his bag, while Sander groaned in the background.

“Sander? You ok there?” Robbe asked, stifling a laugh, his back to Sander.

Sander sighed, hard. “Yeah, but I hope you realize that I’m never leaving your bed again. I’ve melted into the mattress.”

Robbe threw him a glance, seeing Sander had somehow snaked his way under the cover.

“Suit yourself, just don’t steal all the blankets,” Robbe answered, to which Sander scoffed.

“I would never do that! I’ll have you know that I’m a perfect blanket gentleman.”

Robbe hummed, sitting down to start working on his essay. He was quickly bored though, and with Sander in his room, Robbe didn’t really feel like slaving away doing homework. He turned to face Sander, only to find him fast asleep, his mouth open and squished against the pillow.  

Robbe chuckled under his breath, getting up to take a closer look. Once he got within reach of Sander, he slowly caressed his hair. The gesture made Sander frown a little, before he buried himself closer to the pillow, sighing happily.

Robbe smiled fondly, before moving away and to the end of the bed. He still didn’t feel like working on his homework, so he grabbed his controller and decided to game until Sander woke up from his impromptu nap.

After his third loss in a row, Robbe threw his controller aside and figured he was too out of it to keep playing. Looking at his phone, he saw that Sander had been out for a little over thirty minutes, so Robbe figured he might as well join him.

Taking his hoodie off, he walked to the other side of the bed in his shirt and jeans. He laid down next to Sander, who had turned to face Robbe’s way at some point in the past half hour.

When he was awake, Sander’s face always transpired a panoply of emotions. Even his eyes would glisten, darken and light up in the span of a single conversation. Robbe had always thought that blind people’s eyes wouldn’t hold much emotions, but he was clearly wrong. There were more emotions in a single one of Sander’s pupils than there was in most people’s entire face.

Robbe was pretty sure that’s what made him so fascinated with Sander’s face (because, let’s admit it, he was absolutely obsessed with it). He’d read somewhere that eyes were the window to someone’s soul, and while he was more inclined to think it was pure bullshit at first, since he’d met Sander, he’d come to understand the meaning of those words.

Robbe brushed a strand of hair that had fallen over Sander’s face, softly, trying his best not to disturb Sander’s peaceful sleep. Robbe didn’t know how to describe the swelling that overtook his chest as he watched Sander’s body raise and fall with each breath he took. He’d never felt this before, this peaceful yet gut-wrenching feeling that was filling up his heart.

There were a lot of feelings that Robbe had never felt before he’d met Sander. He didn’t know what it was about Sander that provoked those strong, undecipherable feelings that swallowed Robbe whole, but… He would be lying if he said he hated them. Whatever was causing this, Robbe didn’t mind. He liked Sander and he liked feeling like this, giddy in a way alcohol could never provide, yet rested in a way no amount of sleep could bring about.

He rested his hand in between his body and Sander’s, laying his head down on the pillow. He could feel Sander’s hot breath hit his cheeks from how close they were laying, but it didn’t annoy him. On the contrary, it made Robbe feel safe, content even, as he slowly drifted in and off of sleep.

His state of semi-slumber was interrupted when he felt Sander stirring awake next to him. Sander’s hand stretched and fell down on Robbe’s chest, which made Sander startle.

“Robbe?” He asked, voice still full of sleep.

Robbe hummed in answer.

“What did I just hit?” Sander questioned, his eyebrows furrowing as he felt around Robbe’s chest for clues.

“Chest” Robbe answered, chuckling at the concentrated look on Sander’s face.

“Ahhhh, all good then. Sorry for that,” Sander said, giving Robbe’s chest one last apologetic pat before rising to sit up. Robbe followed.

“Hey, what time is it?” Sander asked, sounding a little stressed all of a sudden.

Robbe looked around for his phone, finding it near his desk. “Hmmm, just about four, why?”

Sander rose to his feet so fast that Robbe feared he might fall down when he started swaying. “Shit! I have to be back home by four thirty to babysit, I’m so sorry. I promised my mom and-”

Robbe interrupted Sander, putting a hand on his shoulder. “Sander, it’s chill. Don’t worry”

Sander nodded, but didn’t seem convinced, as he chewed on his lips. He mumbled something under his breath, too low for Robbe to hear.

“What?” Robbe prodded, curious.

Sander sighed, running a hand over his face. “I can’t believe I spent our time together sleeping. I’m so sorry, Robbe.”

Robbe sighed as well, but a little more tenderly. “Sander, I swear it’s fine. I slept too. Besides, we can always hang out tomorrow, once we’re done with classes, right?”

That suggestion seemed to enchant Sander, whose eyes immediately lit up. He snapped his fingers as if he’d just had an illumination, a smile spreading on his face.

"What? You look like you’ve just had a moment of genius.” Robbe teased.

“Even better! I’m going out with friends from uni tomorrow night.” Sander said, excitedly.

Robbe couldn’t help but feel his face fall at that. “Oh. Ok, I get it”

Sander shook his head. “No! No, you don’t. I meant to ask you this earlier, but forgot…” He took a breath, as if steeling himself. “Would you want to meet them? Tomorrow?”

Robbe was stunned into silence, staring at Sander, his mouth hanging open. Sander wanted to present him to his actual friends? He wanted to include Robbe in other parts of his life?

“How is that even a question? Of course I do!” Robbe said, getting just as excited about the idea as Sander.

“Yeah?” Sander added, his smile ever growing.

“Yes!” Robbe said, adding, “Since when do you even have other friends?”

Sander stuck his tongue out at Robbe. “Ha. Ha. Very funny, Robin.”

“Thank you, I think so too”

Sander grabbed his stuff after that, promising he’d send Robbe the address as soon as he’d be home. Robbe suggested walking Sander to the tram, but Sander declined, insisting he could get there on his own.

When Sander was gone, Robbe closed the door and leaned his back against it, slowly sliding to the floor. He was going to meet Sander’s actual friends. He was going to meet Sander’s actual friends! Fuck! Why had he accepted the invitation? This was such a bad idea, they were probably going to hate him and-

Groaning, Robbe lowered his head on his knees.

“Woah, there. Someone’s having a crisis,” Milan said, to which Robbe only grunted in answer.

“Come on, Robbe. What’s on your mind?” Milan asked, sitting down next to him.

“Sander invited me to meet his other university friends tomorrow night.” Robbe sighed.

Milan blinked at him, confused. “And?”

“And, I said yes!” Robbe half-screamed, exasperated by his own actions.

Milan chuckled, looking just as puzzled. “How is that a bad thing? It’s good that he wants you to meet them!”

Robbe groaned at Milan’s incomprehension. “They’re gonna hate me Milan! They’re probably all cool art kids and I’m…” He gestured vaguely towards himself, “not!”

Milan sighed, patting Robbe’s back sympathetically. “Come on, Robbe. You’re smart, interesting and super cute! There’s no way they won’t fall in love with you the second they see you.”

Robbe threw a glance Milan’s way, “Thanks Milan.”

Milan nodded, “Good luck! You’ll be great,” He said, getting up and walking away.

Robbe’s worries were far from gone, but he was glad that Milan thought so highly of him. If all else failed, he knew he’d always have the flatshare to fall back on. That was a constant Robbe was so grateful to have in his life, he didn’t think he could ever find words to express it properly.

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

The next day passed by so slowly that it felt painful. It’s like time had decided to mock him, by prolonging his suffering.

Robbe hadn’t registered a single word from his lectures, spending the hours looking back and forth at the clock, so much so that he feared he might end up with a torticollis by the end of the day. If the end of the day ever came, that is.

The second his last lecture of the afternoon was dismissed, Robbe had pounced on the door, practically running all the way back to his flat.

Sander had, as promised, texted him the address the night before. They were meeting at a local bar, nothing too fancy, but Robbe’s usual ‘jogging and sweater’ school attire would probably be too lowkey.

Robbe tried rummaging through his closet, throwing about half of it out before giving up.

“Milan! Milan!” He screamed, hoping Milan would be willing to help.

A second later, he popped his head into the room.

“You called for me?” He asked.

“Yes. Milan, can I please borrow something of yours for tonight? Everything I own is just… wrong” Robbe sighed, pleading Milan with his eyes.

Milan seemed to mull it over, before he threw the door wide open. “Of course you can! Come with, I’ll turn this pumpkin into a prince!”

Robbe laughed, following Milan around the house. “I’m pretty sure the pumpkin gets turned into a coach, not a prince.”

Milan stopped dead in his tracks, turning back to Robbe with a warning finger.

“Do you want my help or not?”

Robbe nodded vehemently.

“Then don’t question my Disney knowledge, Robbe! Flatmates rule #35!”

Robbe raised his hands in surrender, laughing, before Milan started back towards his own room, Robbe on his heels.

Milan did deliver on his promise, after all. Robbe was dressed in a nice long-sleeved shirt with fitted jeans, nothing too flashy, but classy enough to look like he’d put an effort into his outfit (which he, or rather Milan, had).

The bar wasn’t far from Robbe’s home, so he decided to simply walk there. He figured he could shake his nerves out on the way there, and, hopefully, be a little calmer once he’d reach his destination.

The breeze was nice, flowing through his curls. He had been smart enough to bring a jacket, in case the night grew colder as it got later. Despite the atmosphere and his precautions, Robbe couldn’t help the hammering of his heart against his ribcage. He felt even worse than he had that one time in second grade when he’d been called out in class to make a presentation about a book he’d never bothered to read.

Soon enough, he reached the bar, which seemed to be busy with customers. Robbe closed his eyes, taking deep breaths. He tried to tell himself that everything would go smoothly, that Sander’s friends would like him, and that he’d get out of this alive and with his pride intact. If the shaking in his hands was anything to go by, he wasn’t very good at convincing himself.

He sighed, shaking his hands out, before walking into the bar. A radio was playing in the background, just barely covering the noise of the chatter. Robbe walked a little further in, immediately spotting Sander in the corner, sitting at a table with three other people.

Robbe took another deep breath for good luck, and made his way to their table. All three pairs of (functional) eyes were staring at him as he walked, more curious than austere, which reassured Robbe a little.

A blonde guy was the first to signal Robbe’s arrival. “This must be the famous Robbe!”

“Yeah, hi!” Robbe said, nodding in everyone’s direction.

Sander’s whole body whipped towards Robbe when he spoke. “Robbe! You’re here! Sit, sit,”

Sander fumbled with the chair next to him, making space for Robbe to sit next to him. Robbe thanked him, sitting down, trying not to be too unsettled by the looks Sander’s friends kept throwing each other.

Sander’s right hand came to rest on Robbe’s left shoulder immediately.

“Did you find the place easily? I think it’s pretty close to your place, isn’t it?” Sander asked, with the same considerate tone he took every time he wanted to make sure Robbe was ok.

Robbe figured he could probably sense his nervousness. Hell, anyone in a five mile radius who took one look at him could probably tell he was shitting his pants.

“Yeah, it was fine, don’t worry Sander” Robbe answered, smiling.

Sander smiled as well, more to himself, but Robbe still caught it and it made him feel a little more at ease.

Only a little though, because the same boy from earlier decided to clear his throat at that moment, making both Robbe and Sander turn their head towards him abruptly.

He had both of his eyebrows raised, and a knowing smile floating on his face.

“Sooo, Robbe, what are you studying?”

The night went on pretty similarly. After the initial interrogation, Robbe stayed a bit more silent, observing how Sander interacted with his friends.

At some point, Robbe was listening to a drunken story from one of the girls, Marie, while tapping the fingers of his hand on the table. He hadn’t even noticed the nervous tic, before Sander’s hand came to rest on top of it. Robbe’s eyes were instantly drawn to their overlapping hands.

Sander squeezed once in reassurance, and it made Robbe smile. Even in social situations like these, Sander always had a way of knowing exactly how Robbe was feeling, and exactly how to make him feel better. Robbe squeezed back, before Sander slowly took his hand back.

The night wasn’t much different from Robbe and Sander’s regular nights, in that Sander acted exactly the same way he always had with Robbe. When something really funny made him laugh, he would softly knock his forehead on Robbe’s shoulder, hiding his face as he giggled. When he couldn’t remember where he’d placed his glass, he’d lightly tap Robbe’s hand with his own, a silent signal that Robbe had long learned, and Robbe would silently pass Sander’s glass over to him. And when Sander felt Robbe become too antsy, he’d place his hand on Robbe’s bouncing knee, tapping fingers or shaky hands.

Before knowing Sander, Robbe hadn’t been used to touchy people, but now that he was, he found Sander’s small, mindless gestures calming, in the same familiar way that your childhood beddings or your mama’s hugs appease you.

After a while, the blond guy, Max, sipped the last of his beer, knocking it back against the table.

“So, who wants what? This round’s on me!” Max said, already pushing to get up.

Sander stood up at once, surprising everyone at the table.

“No! I’ll go. It’s my turn with the tab, anyway.” Sander said, sounding sure of himself.

Robbe furrowed his eyebrows, but said nothing when he saw Max sit back down and cheer Sander on. Everyone passed their orders and Sander repeated them once before expertly making his way to the bartender.

“How does he navigate so well everywhere?” Robbe asked out loud, to no one particularly. Max probably assumed the question was directed to him, since he took it upon himself to answer.

“Oh, that? It’s like his little superpower. Bring him somewhere once or twice and he’ll know the place by heart.” Max said, earning a few chuckles from the girls and a curious glance from Robbe.

If Sander was so good with directions, then why did he always let Robbe guide him by the arm? Robbe had never really thought about the fact that Sander could seemingly perfectly get back home by himself, but required Robbe’s assistance in the flatshare or when they went out somewhere.

His thoughts were interrupted by Marie.

“Say, you two are pretty close, huh?” She asked, her smile telling Robbe that her question covered a hidden meaning.

“Yeah, sure, he’s a good friend.” Robbe shrugged, smiling politely.

Marie and the other girl, Anne, exchange an amused look.

“Yeah, I bet you must be really good friends,” Anne added, laughing.

Robbe’s face scrunched up in confusion.

“I don't get the joke” He said, a little annoyed.

Max sighed, like an exasperated parent. “Robbe, haven’t you noticed that Sander is a little…” He looked towards Marie, “touchy?”

Robbe frowned. “Yeah? He’s blind, touch is, like, his way of seeing.”

Max nodded. “Then, why does he only ever touch you ?”

Robbe could feel his features harden. He wasn’t dumb, he could clearly understand what Max was insinuating.

“He doesn’t.” Robbe answered, his tone sharp and severe.

Max smiled, as if he could clearly see through Robbe’s bluff. He held Robbe’s gaze.

“He does, though.”

Robbe thought back to all the times he’d been with Sander and other people. He did accept Milan’s group hugs, but even when he came over to eat at the flatshare, he wouldn’t purposefully brush his hands on Milan’s, Zoë’s or Senne’s. If they went to catch a movie with the boys, Sander would only ever lay his head on Robbe’s shoulder, curling up into his side. Even at Sander’s house, Robbe couldn’t remember Sander being so tactile with his mother or his sister. He always did stuff himself, and if he needed them, he’d call them out loud instead of touching them to get their attention the way he did with Robbe.

And tonight. Sander had kept a free seat next to him for Robbe. He’d touched Robbe, almost constantly in one way or another. But he’d never even accidentally brushed against one of his other friends. He wasn’t cold towards them, and you could see the friendship that was linking them together, but still… No touch.

If Sander was truly that tactile, then wouldn’t his childhood friend, Max, and his other uni friends notice he’s tactile as well?

So, if Sander was only ever tactile with Robbe, then why? Was it funny to him? Did Sander think he could try and see what he could do, how far he could go, before Robbe would catch up?

The befriending, the breakup, the mysterious past with Britt… Everything was making sense, now. Robbe had been played, hard. He didn’t know why, what motive Sander could possibly have to make a fool out of Robbe, but he’d succeeded.

Robbe felt angry, betrayed and ashamed. But most of all, he felt pain. He could sense his heart cracking and falling into tiny pieces, as more and more worries overtake his mind.

Whatever he had left of pride was holding back his tears from rolling down his cheeks. He got up, grabbed his bag and coat.

“I... I have to go.” Robbe told the group of three, hurrying towards the entrance like his life depended on it (and at the moment, he felt like it truly did).

He slammed the door open, stepping outside as the first tear streamed down his face. He tried to wipe it away, but it only got replaced with even more tears. He walked down the small steps and leaned against the wall, his head tilted to the sky.

He was furious. He wanted nothing more than to go back in there, make a scene and demand explanations from Sander. But even more than that, he was humiliated. It wasn’t the first time he’d been made fun of, but this time, it hurt a lot more and a lot deeper. What he felt with Sander…

It’s true what they say, he supposes. Ignorance truly is bliss.

Robbe heard the doorbell of the bar ring, but he didn’t pay attention to it.

“Robbe? Robbe!” a voice shouted from his right.

Sander.

“Fuck off, Sander.” Robbe said, getting ready to walk away, but Sander was quicker in grabbing his arm. Robbe sighed tiredly, too exhausted and hurt to fight. “Let go,”

Sander shook his head firmly.

“No. No, Robbe, come on. I don’t know what they told you, but whatever it was, it’s definitely not what you think.” Sander pleaded.

“I don’t care, Sander. Whatever little game you were playing, I hope you had your fun. I’m out.” Robbe said, trying, unsuccessfully, to shake his arm out of Sander’s grasp. “Let me go, Sander!”

“Robbe, Robbe, listen to me. Please. I wasn’t playing any game, I swear, I can explain. Please.” Sander was practically begging, and Robbe could see tears forming in his eyes. He turned his head away.

“Let go,” was all Robbe said, trying to appear cold and composed.

Sander loosened his grip, and Robbe thought he’d finally listened.

A second later, Sander’s hands were cupping his face. Another second later, and Sander’s lips were on his.

Robbe was frozen in place at first, his brain unable to process everything that was happening.

The warmth from Sander’s hands on Robbe’s cold, wet, cheeks. The warmth of Sander’s mouth against his own. The explosion of heat pooling in his stomach. The explosion in his own brain.

Sander was… Kissing him?

Robbe brought his hands up to Sander’s shoulders, pushing him back. He felt a little bad when he saw Sander stumble backwards, not realizing how hard he had pushed him away.

“Sander… I…” Robbe started, unable to form a single coherent thought.

“I like you, Robbe. A lot. A lot more than other people. So, that’s why. I wasn’t playing you.” Sander said, a sad smile dancing on his lips.

Robbe took a small, tentative step back. He could feel his body shaking, badly, as if the temperature had suddenly dropped well under zero.

“Sander… I don’t… I’m not…” He swallowed painfully, “I don’t like you, not like that .”

The word was said with a bit more venom than Robbe had been shooting for, and he could see the second it hit Sander.

Sander’s face crumpled, as he whispered a small, desperate, “What?”

Robbe tried to breathe in, but even his breathing was shaky. “I’m so sorry, Sander. I’m… I have to go. I just… I can’t. I’m sorry.”

Robbe threw Sander one last apologetic look, turning on his heels and walking away.

The last thing he heard were Sander’s first sobs. His own followed soon after.

As soon as Robbe turned the corner, he let his tears flow freely as he took off in a run. He didn’t even know where he was going, or where he was, but he didn’t care.

His whole world had just fallen apart and the most important person in his life was gone.

#wtfock #wtfock fic #drijzermans #sobbe #I see you when you run from the light (within your eyes) #IT'S HERE KIDS

[kurodachimagic]

Chocolate and Cherries - Chapter 1

Summary: When Adachi falls into the arms of a kind stranger his life changes for the better.

Rating: Pg 13

Tags/warnings: Fluff, getting together, au, Writer Adachi, Chef Kurosawa.

Word count: 6.2k

A/n: This story was written for the cherry magic mini bang! Thank you @hiwatari-art for inviting me to join! Had a lovely time working with you as always. Thank you to my other artist over on twitter guacagabs. The entire story is being posted right now. Thank you to @schnaf for being a great friend and beta!

Read on ao3

Adachi dragged his feet on the pavement as he made his way home from work. He was already too exhausted to start his writing day with the best mindset but it would have to do. He’d already skipped four days this week and if he didn’t actually sit down to work on his book, it would never be published. He let out a deep sigh and shook his head slightly.

The situation was not ideal by any means, he was not great at cooking and it was already too late to start dinner, but he definitely needed to eat something or his mind would absolutely quit on him, he knew that much.

Adachi knew he should probably get something healthier but he refused to waste even more time walking to the store, so he decided to stop by the food cart near his flat for his usual emergency menu: two tuna onigiris with mayo - along with a can of soda in the hopes that the caffeine would boost his creativity. He was not too happy about it, but he didn’t have much time to contemplate his choice because as soon as he had paid, the first few droplets of water hit his shoulders. Looking up, he felt the next few drops hit his nose and his forehead. He cursed inwardly and simply took off awkwardly running the last few blocks home, trying his best not to slip and fall, his dress shoes nothing but a hazard in this particular situation.

The building door was so close, he could see it through the pouring rain; just a few meters and he would be home. Adachi rushed, his hand extended already to grab at the door handle when his body collided with something - someone - and fell backwards. It was as if time had slowed down; he could see the face of the person he ran into frozen in shock, his eyes widening as he saw Adachi falling, while Adachi could only think about the pain this would cause him, physical, yes, but mostly emotional. He always managed to get himself in embarrassing situations and now -

His neighbour extended his hand just in time to catch Adachi’s and pulled him upright effortlessly, his expression switching from shock to a relieved smile. “Are you ok? I’m so sorry, I hadn’t seen you.”

“Thank you! I’m so sorry,” Adachi said, feeling the heat rise to his face, partly because of his clumsiness and partly because his neighbour had not let go of him yet. In fact, Adachi could have sworn that the guy was rubbing his thumb on the back of his hand. He didn’t know what to do, so he tried again. “Uh, sorry. I should’ve been more careful.”

“It’s ok, I’m glad that you didn’t get hurt.” The man seemed to suddenly remember they were standing in the pouring rain and pulled Adachi to the door. “Come, you’ll catch a cold in this weather.”

No matter how hard he thought, Adachi couldn't remember ever catching his name but he had seen this man before in the elevator and in some of the common areas. He seemed to be a bit of a recluse, much like himself.

The man opened the door and finally let go of his hand before ushering him in. “After you, Adachi.”

Adachi’s eyes widened; he didn't know how the man knew his name, but he didn’t mention it. He walked inside and called the elevator, followed closely by his saviour. Once the doors opened, he stepped in and turned around, pressing the button for the fifth floor and finally facing the man. "Thank you, again…" he trailed off.

"Kurosawa. My name is Kurosawa." He pressed the fourth-floor button.

Adachi smiled and bowed to him. "It was nice seeing you, Kurosawa. Have a good night."

The elevator dinged and Kurosawa bowed with a smile before exiting. “Good night, Adachi,” he waved.

Adachi hesitantly waved back as the elevator doors closed. Before he knew it he was one floor up, opening the door to his flat, throwing his work bag on the sofa and taking his wet clothes off with a groan before going to the bathroom.

What a day. Not only had he stayed late to finish on that project Urabe had handed to him but he also made himself look like a fool in front of his very cool neighbour, and to add insult to injury now he needed a hot shower to hopefully avoid catching a cold. He shook his head and hopped under the stream, washing himself thoroughly and letting the hot stream relax his muscles.

Feeling in a bit of a better mood, Adachi got out of the shower, wrapped himself in a towel and went about getting into a comfy set of pyjamas. He finally sat at his desk and opened the white doc of doom, checking the time and cursing as he realized it was 9 pm already. He slouched in his chair, throwing his head back with a groan. This book was going to take a million years at this rate, he really needed to prioritize his schedule, put on some good hours into it each day, especially during the weekend, he needed to -

Adachi’s stomach growled loudly, reminding him that his emergency dinner laid abandoned in its bag. He got up and stomped over to the sofa, unwrapping the onigiris and eating them without so much as a thought before returning to his spot. He promptly sat down to continue with the daily task of staring at the document while he begged his brain to type something - anything - out. But his mind had other plans though, Kurosawa’s face and gentle smile kept popping in his mind. Maybe it was because of the way he moved, how he had kept him from falling with his sharp reflexes, or maybe it was how elegant he looked even when he was soaking wet, how well his suit fitted him. Kurosawa was like some sort of superhero, or… no, he was more like a Prince Charming from an epic battle world. That was a start - it was not the murder mystery he had thought about, but it was definitely a start.

The sound of Adachi’s footsteps worked like a metronome, helping his mind settle into a rhythm. He was starting to see things in more detail: The brave prince paced in his castle, his sword close by his side, the problems his kingdom was facing were almost too much to bear and with his father on the brink of death, it was all on him. A shadow appeared above the citadel - the… the… ‘kingdom x’ was being attacked by a three-headed dragon. How would he fix this and save his people? Had someone sent the dragon or did it act with free will? Did the soon-to-be king have secret magic powers? Maybe they were a secret even to himself!

With renewed energy and excitement, Adachi sat down to work. This new world just wanted to be written, to become a reality, and he was not going to stop it. Aided by the occasional sip of soda and a few “stretching breaks” that were more like actual pacing, he managed to draft four thousand words by 5 am, effectively breaking his 3 thousand word record from just a few months ago. If he could keep up the pace he could finish the book within the next month and send it to Tsuge for editing and review. He sent a quick text to his friend to tell him the good news and got into bed; he would probably regret staying up so late tomorrow, but now he didn’t have it in him to care. Writing was definitely his call - even if he was very close to missing his goal of being a published author by 30.

---

The commute to work was nothing short of hell. The morning started with Adachi missing his usual train and having to take the next one during rush hour - not that he ever managed to avoid rush hour, but he usually took the first train during it so it wasn’t as crazy as later in the morning. This resulted in him having a very unpleasant ride, squeezed half to death between the sea of people, feeling like a canned sardine with a bad case of insomnia. That was the other issue, the previous writing night ended up being a success but even though he’d been exhausted by the time he was done, it had been impossible to fall asleep. Now he was on his way to a long workday with a pounding headache and a sour mood. If given the opportunity, Adachi would’ve chosen to take the day off to sleep and feel refreshed enough by sundown to continue writing.

His job was definitely a necessary evil, but sometimes he couldn’t help but resent it. On the verge of thirty, Adachi spent most of his day at the office, writing his reports, Urabe’s reports, and occasionally picking up the slack of some of his colleagues. There was barely any time for hobbies or relaxing and least of all to be an aspiring writer. To be completely honest, Adachi had started viewing his day job as his second career in the past year. His heart and soul were focused on his new goal, what he really wanted. In the end, if writing didn’t become his main income, it wouldn’t matter, he was passionate enough about it to continue no matter what. After all, living in the fantasy worlds he created was more than enough for him.

Adachi made it to his desk just on time, but running those last few blocks only served to make his mood even sourer. He pulled at the collar of his shirt with a small huff, still thinking about his writing and leaned back in his chair until it touched Urabe’s shoulder, startling him.

He turned around swiftly, blush already rising to his cheeks. “I’m so sorry, Senpai.”

Urabe nodded and waved him off. Then, he cocked his head and looked at Adachi in more detail. “What is going on with you, Adachi? You look tired.”

“I just had trouble sleeping last night, that’s all,” Adachi said with a heavy sigh. He could picture so many things he would rather do than give explanations about his personal life, but he would feel too guilty if he was rude to Urabe when he was only worried about him.

“Hmm, are you sure that’s all?”

“Yes. I’m ok.” He attempted his best smile. “Thank you for asking.”

“Adachi,” Urabe pouted, his brows burrowed into a childish frown, just like every time he would ask Adachi to take on more work, any semblance of concern already gone out the window. “Can you finish this report for tomorrow? The boss is really piling stuff on my shoulders and I already had other plans for today.”

Sometimes Adachi wished he was a bad person, or a bad colleague even, but he couldn’t help taking on the extra work when it was needed, after all, he didn’t have much of a life. He rolled his eyes but nodded. “Yes, of course.”

“Oh, wait. Is your birthday today or tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow.”

“And you’re turning 30, right?”

Adachi nodded once again, hoping to end the conversation as soon as possible; he didn’t want to be reminded of the passage of time or how much he hadn’t achieved by now.

Urabe rolled his chair closer and elbowed him. “Aaah, you sly weasel. Do you have a date?”

“Of course not. I’m just looking forward to getting home and sleeping.” That was literally his birthday plan.

Urabe frowned and gave him a quizzical look. “But you have... ‘dated’ before, right?” He winked.

Adachi shook his head slightly and saw the same look many people gave him, a mix of pity and judgement.

“You should ask one of the girls out. I’ve heard Yui is single and she’s very pretty!”

Adachi slowly turned his chair towards the copy machine and saw Yui across the room. She was, in fact, very pretty, but… she didn’t spark anything in him. She looked like a work of art, pleasant to look at, but not for him. “No, I don’t think that would work.”

“Adachi, if you don’t date someone by the time you turn 30, you will turn into a wizard!” He whispered.

“What? That’s ridiculous!”

“It’s true, you’ll see!”

Adachi rolled his eyes and turned back to his desk, finally starting on the reports needed. The sooner he was done with that, the sooner he could return to his writing.

--

The elevator opened its doors for Adachi and the ding that followed made his muscles relax instantly. Only a few more minutes and he would be up in his flat, taking his shoes off and cooking something quick before sitting down to write. He felt inspired by the beginning of this new story and he wasn’t about to let a bad day at work ruin that for him.

Just as the doors started to close, someone put a bag between them to keep them open. The first thing Adachi saw was a girl with a cute and gentle look, a black wispy fringe framing her face and a sweet smile. She nodded at Adachi and he smiled and nodded back. He wondered if he would ever date a girl like her, if sharing his life with a partner and doing things together would be so different than what he did now. The answer was probably not, since he assumed nobody would be supportive of him working all day and writing all night; if he was honest with himself, he didn’t really have time for a relationship, even if he sometimes yearned for a bit of company - theoretically. Adachi blinked repeatedly, suddenly crashing back into reality when he saw the looming presence of Kurosawa behind her, giving him a weird look he couldn’t quite place as he ushered the girl into the elevator.

Out of sheer awkwardness, Adachi nodded and mumbled a quiet hello at him, looking away as a blush crept onto his cheeks. Was that Kurosawa’s girlfriend? He groaned and let his head fall back against the elevator wall. He’d been caught staring at his neighbour’s girlfriend like a creep. He ventured a sideways glance and realized Kurosawa was still looking at him with a weird expression.

Thankfully, the ride was short and only a minute later, Adachi was home, barely paying any attention to his basic needs as per usual. He made some instant ramen and added a bit of egg to it before eating it mindlessly, daydreaming of his new story and the magic system involved.

Perhaps it was quickly becoming a much more ambitious project than he had anticipated but as long as the writing flowed, everything would be ok. What was supposed to be a long writing session soon turned into an early night after Adachi’s brain decided to shut down mid-sentence, putting him to sleep sitting at his desk, his head hanging down and his spine hunched over.

#cherry magic #cherry magic fic #mine

[phantompearlsalt]

Sour Cherry, Chapter 3

This one is much different from the others — I like to believe Kuvira feels deeply and fiercely, particularly for the person she loves. So of course, your first kiss is very much of that nature. Feel free to follow on AO3! 

“You first learn of her in the city newspaper. Her elegant features grace the cover of the front page, announcing her promotion to captain of the city’s guard. For a moment, you don’t think much of it until you observe the photograph with greater attentiveness. 

It’s the mark on her right cheek that suddenly distinguishes her. She is the young woman from Suyin Beifong’s dance troupe. Having attended a fair number of their performances, you slowly start to recall your fascination with the anonymous dancer. 

Kuvira. Your finger traces the printed name with wonder. 

Aside from the mark, you recognize the beautiful, heavy braid that sinks past her shoulders and falls to her waist. As exquisite as all the performers are, there is something about Kuvira in particular that has always captivated you.”

Being a non-bender, you are profoundly enraptured by the elegant movements of the dancers, the bird-like motions of their limbs that simultaneously allow them to orchestrate fantastical structures of metal. Having been surrounded by the more practical uses of the material, seeing the delicate side of metalbending is almost dreamlike. 

But you often find yourself mesmerized by the braided dancer. In fact, she later becomes the reason you attend these recitals with such determined consistency. 

---

“Here are the design drafts you requested,” you say, accompanied by Zhu Li whose arms are equally filled with rolled up papers. Kuvira nods once and angles her chin towards the desk across the room. “You can set them there,” she responds coolly, returning to her conversation with Varrick and Baatar. 

You sigh internally and join Zhu Li at the table, carefully unfolding the most pertinent documents. Work is work after all. 

You and Kuvira have gotten significantly closer over the past few months, finding times to share meals together away from the sergeants and corporals. Those are the only moments you get to steal her away from the daily commotion of building an entire empire and you cherish those conversations immensely. Often replaying them in your head, you lose yourself in the sonorous lull of her voice and the stories of her upbringing. 

Nevertheless, you don’t expect this newfound closeness to disrupt your daily duties.

Bolin joins you soon after from across the room, as spirited as ever, and peers over your shoulders to catch a glimpse of the diagrams. “Ohhhh! What are these?” he asks. You shoo him away and scowl. 

“Nothing we need to concern ourselves over,” you respond. “Zhu Li, Bolin,” Kuvira calls. “Accompany Varrick and Baatar to the engineering room. There are some developments that require your assistance.” 

“You got it, boss,” Bolin replies promptly, clearly thrilled to have something to do. Zhu Li merely nods and quickly makes her way to Varrick’s side, who instantly starts babbling about whatever new invention Kuvira’s got him working on. 

You continue organizing the documents and are just about to leave when you feel a muted pressure on your lower back. It’s so mild you almost question whether it’s actually there. But then you feel the warmth of another human and your breath catches in your throat. 

“Thank you,” Kuvira murmurs. “You have been an indispensable asset to this endeavor. I don’t believe we would be making such progress were it not for your efficiency.” 

You chuckle nervously and pray she can’t sense how on edge her proximity puts you. “It’s my honor to serve the Great Uniter,” you offer weakly. Kuvira steps away and you mourn the loss of her touch but it allows you to turn around and face her. 

You can’t quite look her in the eye so you stare directly at her cheekbone instead. “Call me Kuvira. I’d think we’re at that point, don’t you agree?” she inquires coyly. “I suppose so,” you stammer. 

There is a moment of awkward silence during which you have to chew into your cheek to avoid saying something horribly embarrassing. Finally, Kuvira breaks the stillness and says, “Let’s see each other tonight. Come to my tent after nightfall.” 

You blink once, then twice, before the words actually sink in and you ask, “Is something the matter? Perhaps Baatar or Varrick would be better suited—”

“No,” she interrupts. “It is no...professional matter. I only wish to see you. We have been able to spend some time together recently but there is rarely time beyond the occasional rushed meal. I have made time tonight and I...want to see you.” 

It takes everything in you not to let your jaw drop to the floor. You’ve never seen Kuvira stumble over her words this way. It’s strange to hear the obvious discomfort at the end and you would chuckle if you weren’t a.) so thoroughly intimidated by her or b.) completely and undeniably dumbfounded with the present scene. 

“Oh,” you breathe out eventually. When you manage to look Kuvira in the eye, they widen almost imperceptibly but she doesn’t break the gaze. “I’d like that,” you finish, allowing the faintest smile to crack the nervous line of your mouth. 

“Alright, then it’s settled. I will see you later this evening,” she says. “As you were.” 

You bend your back just enough to bow slightly, quickly making your way out of the room. You make sure you’re far enough into the hallway before falling back on the metal wall and exhaling shakily. 

What the hell?

---

“Suyin Beifong’s hypocrisy will be the downfall of the Earth Kingdom. Between the archaic nature of the Beifong rule, and the ineptitude and inaction of the United Republic of Nations, the anarchy that has taken control of Ba Sing Se will spread to the neighboring Earth states, wreaking violence and despair in its path. 

We have lived and served in the city of Zaofu as birds in a cage for too long, and now we have the opportunity to truly realize our potential by stabilizing the Earth Kingdom capital and reuniting the kingdom at large. Suyin Beifong and the government of Republic City are unwilling — and incapable — of exercising the leadership our people need. 

I vow to be the one who unites our lands, restores peace and order, and oversees the emergence of a long-awaited Earth Empire! We will usher in a new era of technology and innovation, leading us into a new and forward-thinking future.”

A wave of applause swells through the crowd, straining to maintain the extent of their excitement for fear of being caught by outsiders. You stand in the corner of the room and watch Kuvira with unabashed admiration. 

Between the city guards and wealthy citizens, everyone is captivated by the nearly-tangible force of Kuvira’s speech. She evoked a palpable sense of ambition in each individual, stoking their desire to see the Earth Kingdom stabilized and modernized. 

You see Baatar Beifong, Jr. join her side, grinning proudly and murmuring something near her ear. 

Your heart immediately sinks. 

---

Dinner is a painfully stagnant affair. You eat with Bolin and a pair of nameless corporals, attempting to appear engaged in their frivolous conversation while internally begging for nightfall to come soon. 

Eventually, people begin yawning and Bolin is the first to return to his tent. “Gosh, that was a great time you guys,” he sighs happily. “We gotta do this more often.” You nod a bit too enthusiastically, hoping your response encourages Bolin to take the hint that the evening is over. 

He is such a kind young man but so often fails to recognize when you’d prefer to be alone. You don’t have the heart to confront him about it so you suffer in silence.

Luckily this time he gets it and is on his way off, accompanied by the corporals who politely dismiss themselves and say their goodbyes to you. You stay in place, silently observing the sky and your fellow members as they disperse for the night. 

In an attempt to avoid bringing attention to yourself, you make your way to your tent as well, quietly sliding the door shut without turning the lock. You lean against a metal panel, listening to the bustle of conversation slowly diminish until it’s entirely silent. 

When it’s clearly time to head back out, you inhale deeply, straighten your shoulders, and quietly step outside, gradually sliding the door behind you to avoid making any sound. Kuvira’s tent is instantly recognizable from your position — it’s shaped exactly like everyone else’s but significantly larger. 

As you near the structure, you see guards posted and the resulting uneasiness nearly turns you away. But with each tentative step closer, a shadowed figure starts to appear before you. You’re just about to consider walking away entirely when you realize it’s Kuvira. 

“I assumed their presence would distress you. It appears I was correct,” she chuckles, her face illuminated under the dimmed lights of her tent. 

You let out a single, almost wheezing laugh and let your shoulders drop. “No, it’s fine,” you respond. “I knew they’d be here and I should’ve assumed you told them...just sort of went over my head, I guess.” 

“Careful now,” Kuvira says. “I rely on your excellent memory. Can’t have me questioning that anytime soon, can we?” You gulp and shake your head. “No...Kuvira,” you answer, reminded of her insistence on being called by her name. 

While her expression remains generally stoic, you can’t help but notice the way her jaw clenches infinitesimally. “Come, let us walk,” she says, turning away from you and walking towards the rocky mountains that surround your campsite. 

You follow closely behind, switching between watching your feet and her back to ensure you don’t get too close. You want to ask her about her day, whether she’s been resting, but you’ve never been completely alone this way. Even during meals, the mass of Empire soldiers is always somewhere nearby. This is new and daunting.  

Kuvira calling your name makes you look up at her and she’s watching you curiously. “I’m afraid the past few months have done little to assuage your discomfort around me,” she notes. “No!” you counter, perhaps too fervently. Her eyebrow lifts and you sigh. 

“It’s not discomfort,” you assure her. “You’re my leader and I respect you. Immensely. It’s like I said this morning: it’s my honor to serve you and I’m going to demonstrate that any way I can.”

She stops walking when she reaches a stony mound, turning so she’s facing you entirely and sitting on it. “You know, aside from Baatar, your loyalty to me and the Empire is unparalleled.” 

The mere mention of Baatar’s name immediately sets you off but you manage to keep a straight face. Or so you think. 

“Is there some bad blood between you and Baatar I should be aware of?” she inquires, bending a stone from the ground and letting it float above her hand. “No. He’s my superior and we work well together,” you reply simply. 

“Hm...I’m not too sure about that,” she responds. “You’ve never been too fond of him, even in our early days.” 

---

“You are one of Zaofu’s most prominent and well-respected political historians. You intimately know the inner workings of the Earth Kingdom states. Your expertise will be invaluable for our stabilization and reunification efforts.  It is a major task but I want you to consider joining my forces,” Kuvira explains. 

“It is no question,” you say. “I have aspired to serve your cause since the beginning. If you would have me, I would be eternally grateful to lend my skills to this great venture.” 

“Thank you,” Kuvira responds, but she is quickly overtaken by Baatar, who joins from the side and begins shaking your hand. It’s not lost on you how Kuvira’s face twists into evident annoyance but she restrains herself quite well. 

“This is a major addition to the Earth Empire forces. With your expertise and our technological innovation, there is certainly no bounds for the transformation our vision will bring!” Baatar boasts. You smile amiably but feel tempted to yank your hand away. 

You don’t care for Baatar. He’s a somewhat mousy fellow who rides off Kuvira’s confidence. He spends nearly all his waking hours with her and you know she favors him greatly. They did grow up together after all and you can’t deny his intelligence. If anything, they actually complement each other quite well...

Regardless, he gets on your nerves. But you do your best not to show it. 

---

“I recognized your distaste for him from that moment on. You are talented at concealing your emotions, though you can’t seem to do so around Baatar,” she observes, flicking the stone somewhere behind her. 

There’s an uncomfortable lump forming in your throat that you try to swallow down. You absolutely loathe being put under a magnifying glass this way. Kuvira’s right: you are excellent at hiding how you feel. 

Which makes it all the more frustrating when someone catches on. 

“Well, that’s human nature, isn’t it?” you ask. “That’s to be expected anywhere. Our personalities just don’t mesh...but we work well together. Clearly.”

Kuvira hums pensively. She’s watching you with an expression you can’t quite label and it makes you want to squirm under your uniform. It almost feels like she’s dissecting you with her eyes alone. 

“Join me,” she finally says, shifting her weight so there’s a wide space beside her on the stone. To stifle the anxious mewl that threatens to leave your throat, you bite your lower lip and hope the night obscures the gesture. 

As you sit by Kuvira, you realize how little space is actually between you two. Her hands are supporting her upper body weight, angled just below her hips. If you moved yours from your lap, you’d inevitably touch the edge of her fingers. 

For a single second, you consider it but ultimately manage to hold yourself back. Given the context, it feels like a massive feat. 

“I hope you know how much I meant what I said,” Kuvira says quietly. Your brow furrows in confusion and you turn to face her. She’s gazing straight ahead at the mountains surrounding you, the cool beam of moonlight casting a pale glow across her impassive expression. 

“You know these governments better than anyone. These negotiations have succeeded at such high rates largely due to your mastery of the subject. I am truly grateful,” she continues. 

You fold your hands together against your legs, holding them tight. “I believe in this mission. I believe in you,” you remind her. “I saw how many people you inspired back in Zaofu. It was incredible. I didn’t think I’d be able to contribute much...I’m just an academic. I read books and write papers for a living, for crying out loud. But you gave me a greater purpose. You broadened what I thought I could do.”

“I am glad,” Kuvira replies. It looks like she’s going to continue talking but her mouth suddenly tightens into a straight line and she pauses. You sit with the silence until the tension is unbearable. It’s so thick Kuvira could probably bend it. 

“Kuvira...I hope I’m not being out of line for asking but...do we need to talk? I know you wanted to hang out but, um, if I’m going to be completely honest you don’t seem like the type for these kinds of things.”

Your thumb digs into the back of your hand as you wait for her to respond. You fear you’ve crossed that unspoken boundary Kuvira has with everyone when she finally speaks. 

“You always waited for me at the corner of Salai and Third Street,” she states. Her voice barely pierces through your otherwise silent surroundings. Your heads tilt to the side in confusion and you dig through your thoughts until a vivid image of a recital hall flashes through your mind. 

“The dance recitals,” you gasp. 

“Indeed. I can’t say I know when it started but there was one evening where the troupe decided to go out for drinks,” she recalls. Something akin to melancholy touches her voice but it doesn’t reach her eyes. 

“You were sitting on the bench by the lamppost. I didn’t think much of it until the next time. I made it a point to exit through the front door from there on out and sure enough, you were almost always there. You caught me each time because within seconds you’d run off.”

If only the spirits had graced you with the privilege of bending because at that moment you desire nothing more than to drown yourself in the ground below. This time you can’t help it when your face sinks into your palms in absolute humiliation. 

“You have got to be kidding me,” you groan. “I can’t believe you still took me on after that. That’s ridiculous! You probably think I’m some kind of creep!” 

Kuvira’s face softens and she presses her hand against your shoulder. Despite the thick layer of fabric, her touch sets a flaming heat across your skin. You’re grateful for the darkness that conceals the inevitable blush spreading across your face. “Not quite. I was rather intrigued.”

You turn to face her and her hand stays in its place. You want nothing more than to enfold her fingers with your own but you resist the temptation. It doesn’t feel right. 

“You didn’t even know me,” you return. 

“You’re right, I didn’t. But that made it all the more fascinating,” she explains. A low breath filters out of her nose as she exhales slowly. She turns her gaze away from you, staring into the space beyond your shoulder but you can tell she’s not quite here anymore.

“Suyin raised me...but I never knew if she could really see me beyond a wayward child who just needed guidance and structure. She trained me, she perfected my bending. She gave me dancing and the guard. But I always wondered if that’s all I was to her. Her protégé. Baatar is a close friend but...he may be expecting something of me I cannot give him.

Then you appeared and I couldn’t understand why on earth you kept showing up. The recitals, the secret gatherings. And now we have these meals together and we actually talk. You ask me about my day, how I’m feeling. And it’s genuine.”

Kuvira’s hand trails down from your shoulder to your forearm, where she curls her gloved fingers around the muscle and squeezes gently. Her eyes refuse to meet yours, instead moving to the place where your bodies touch. The hairs on your neck rise as her thumb rubs a circle into your sleeve. 

“No one has ever truly asked about me. Not in that way,” she whispers and for the first time ever you hear an unmistakable twinge of sadness in her voice. 

You have known Kuvira to be predominantly fierce, commanding, and stoic. She is calculative and difficult to read. Even in the moments where you dare to ask about matters unrelated to the Empire, she is usually quite distant. She is an unyielding woman and you deeply admire that about her. 

So to see this side of her is astonishing in a way you can’t quite name. You anchor yourself in the grounding touch of her palm and wade through her words as they hang in the air. 

The sound of your name pulls you back and she’s continued speaking. “I need you to know that there is no one here I trust more than you,” she confesses. 

The revelation collapses on you like an unexpected rainfall. It’s almost as if a part of you sensed it coming, saw the grey clouds swaying in the sky. 

But it stuns you into stillness nonetheless, the weight of the words falling like thick drops of water that coat your skin and make it hard to move. The silence of the evening is somehow drowned out by roaring in your ears. 

“Kuvira…” The syllables fit differently in your mouth now, a supplication more than a name. You don’t know what you’re asking of her. 

She instantly removes her hand from you and stands, taking a step forward so there is more distance between you. “Don’t give me that,” she rasps. She’s facing away so you can’t see her face but the shadow of her figure is completely stiff. “I ask nothing of you and I certainly don’t need your pity. My only desire is that you keep this conversation between us.”

“What are you talking about?” you fret. The snag in your voice causes her to turn towards you, watching you with a semblance of resentment and distress. 

“I don’t pity you,” you continue. “This just...I can’t wrap my head around it, okay? Everything I’ve done, I’ve done for the betterment of our people, yes. But I also do it for you. Don’t you see that? I want to be there for you.” 

You laugh humorlessly at the stunned expression on Kuvira’s face. “It’s always been you, Kuvira,” you reveal. “From the minute I saw you in that newspaper, it was always you. You’re brilliant and intimidating and strong and powerful. But you’re human. You deserve to be treated like one.” 

“Why?” she asks, voice tight. You stand up and force yourself into her space, tossing all reservations aside. “Because every human being deserves that, Kuvira. Including you. Especially you,” you tell her. With a small step forward, you close the gap between you both and shakily rest your palms on her arms. 

“You don’t need a reason to be cared for, Kuvira,” you say, letting your hands rub in what you hope is a reassuring movement. “Yes, you are the Great Uniter. You are leading this massive and historic movement that will be remembered for generations. But you get tired. You get stressed. You feel anger and disappointment. I see it. I don’t know if anyone else does but I do. And I want you to hold space for those things.”

At this point Kuvira’s eyes have closed completely and it’s evident that she’s holding her mouth closed with great force. You wonder if anyone has ever told Kuvira these things but the tautness of her body indicates otherwise. 

Moments that could be seconds or hours pass before her eyelids flicker open and she’s looking directly into you. She’s looking at something deep inside you and you feel exposed, vulnerable. But this time it’s not dreadful at all. You let her search for what she needs and hang onto her arms as she does. 

Without moving her gaze, her hands lift from her sides and pull away her gloves, dropping them to the ground. She moves towards your face, cupping your cheeks with a tenderness that makes your heart ache. Out of its own accord, your head allows itself to sink into her touch and your eyelids flutter close.

The next moment is absolutely surreal. You can’t see it but you feel her face drift towards yours until her steady breath washes over your senses. Her scent is soft and fresh, much like the mist that has settled around you. Her presence is much like the earth itself — firm, crisp, invigorating.

Kuvira’s mouth rests just above yours and you both stand totally unmoving before she finally asks, “May I?”

The “yes” is out of your mouth before you can register the question and then a gentle yet ardent warmth touches your lips and spreads throughout your limbs. Kuvira’s hands tighten ever so softly around your face, pulling you closer yet holding you like a sacred treasure. 

Her bare palms against your skin evoke an overwhelming sensation of euphoria — it’s so tremendous it nearly causes your legs to give out beneath you. The initial touch of your lips is tentative as you both process what’s actually happening. You leave your eyes closed so you can focus entirely on every point where Kuvira’s body connects to yours. 

Her fingertips resting on your cheekbones, her palms cupping your jaw, the pleasant tickle of her hair skimming across your forehead. 

Deep in the most secluded burrows of your mind, you have fantasized over this exact moment so many times but the reality is so much more intoxicating than you could have ever imagined. Kuvira’s mouth is supple and warm, whereas you had always imagined it to feel much cooler. You don’t anticipate the reverent way she holds you in place, with a sweetness that fills your mind with some ethereal haze. 

When Kuvira’s lips hesitantly move against yours, the shock in your body collapses completely and you fall against her chest, draping your arms around her neck with a soft whimper. 

The pressure appears to set her off as well. Her hands shift slightly so one is twisted in your hair, pulling you closer while the other cups your jaw. A visible shiver ripples through your bones when your lower lip is tugged by the slow drag of Kuvira’s teeth. 

She is slow and gentle, gauging your reaction with each deliberate movement. When your embrace tightens, she takes this as encouragement to sink her teeth ever so lightly into the soft flesh, making you gasp. You feel her mouth curl into a grin before she lazily sucks your lip, effectively turning your muscles into a quivering mess. 

When you pull away it’s with a great deal of reluctance. You keep your eyes closed, afraid that if you open them you will lose your grasp on the excitement that vibrates through every inch of your body. You feel Kuvira’s forehead rest on yours and her arms settle somewhere along your back. There is silence for a while and you can tell she’s waiting for you to break it. 

But the words don’t come, because in your mind a single sound could shatter this magical space in time you’re in. So instead, you let your eyes open and look into Kuvira’s eyes. They are brewing with an endearing combination of uncertainty and bliss. 

You smile reassuringly, leaning up just enough to press your lips to the corner of her mouth. A low sigh eases from her chest and her face begins to glow with unquestionable delight. 

“Thank you,” she murmurs eventually, pulling your hands into her own and bringing them to her mouth. She speaks the words into your fingers once more, pressing a deep kiss against your knuckles. 

You simply nod and don’t bother to conceal the smile her gesture produces. Pulling your hands away, you wrap yourself around her once more, resting your face against the soothing crook of her neck. 

With a single kiss to her throat, you seal a silent promise between you and Kuvira. When her arms encircle your head, pulling you closer as her face sinks into your hair, you both revel in the gleaming excitement of what’s to come.

#kuvira #kuvira x reader #kuvira/reader #kuvira headcanons #kuvira legend of korra #avatar lok #x reader #drabbles #also if you go on AO3 you'll get the link to my Kuvira playlist 🤭 #sour cherry

[flourchildwrites]

Six years after their escape to the human world, the Grace Field children live together in a happy, harmonious home. Twenty-one-year-olds, Ray, Norman and Emma, have folded themselves into modern society and work tirelessly to provide for their younger siblings, putting the greater good of their family before their personal needs. But as children turn to into teenagers, new house rules come into play. Norman, convinced that Emma will never remember their unique childhood bond, makes a bold proposition — to prohibit romantic relationships between the Grace Field children and end his hopes for something more with Emma once and for all.

Ray knows all too well how dangerous it is to reignite a spark, but for the happiness of Emma and Norman, he's always been willing to burn.

Fandom: Yakusoku no Neverland | The Promised Neverland (Manga)

Relationships/Pairings: Emma/Norman (Endgame), Emma/Ray (Fake Dating), Norman & Ray, Emma & Ray

Genre: Post-Canon (Spoilers for Anime-Only Fans), Fake/Pretend Relationship

Rating: Mature

Word Count: 12,930 words (incomplete 3/5)

A/N: Oh, hi! So it's been a while, but I have neither dropped off the face of the Earth nor given up on this fic. Sometimes, I just have to wait until I'm in the right state of mind to write a chapter. Until next time....

Chapter 3

The cuckoo clock on the wall of Norman’s study is an ornate piece of artistry.  It does its job fashionably and without complaint, keeping time with as much precision as its pendulum can muster.  Norman likes to lose himself to the details of the carved wood.  The dancing animals and crisp steeples that surround the clock face never fail to interest him when his thoughts turn sluggish at the end of the day.

Norman would happily wile away his evening hours waiting for the clock’s melodic chime to sound at the top of the hour, but this is not the gift’s purpose. Instead, it is meant as a constant reminder that time itself is a precious commodity.  Mike Ratri gave him the clock upon his admission to law school.  And though Norman’s enthusiasm for the present has dissipated, he cannot disagree with the principle behind the clock’s coded message.

Time can be a beautiful, but unforgiving mistress; yesterday’s opportunities are lost in the past, gone forever.

Perhaps, Norman muses, for his next graduation, he will receive a high-end watch from the Ratri clan.  Then he, along with his time, will be literally and figuratively shackled to the course the family’s scion has mapped out for him.  Norman knows he is regarded as the best of the bunch, the poster child amongst the extraordinary children born and raised in the demon world.  Ever rational, he cannot disagree with that conclusion.

Still, he rakes a finger under the collar cinched around his neck to loosen his tie and fusses with the first few buttons of his pressed shirt.  The emblem of Lambda 7214 peeks out from underneath the scoop neck of his undershirt, and not for the first time, Norman traces the tattoo’s hard lines where they are exposed.  Compared to this marking, the numbers on his neck are practically forgettable.

Norman isn’t like the other Grace Field children, not since Peter Ratri’s malicious experiments.  Neither can he lump himself in with the other Lambda survivors.  Though Barbara never shies away from advocating for the latter.

“Are you even listening?”  Barbara’s voice is shrill as it comes from the cellphone wedged between Norman’s shoulder and ear.

In the background, he can hear boxing gloves rhythmically pound against a punching bag.  Norman doesn’t like lying to Barbara; he knows what the woman is capable of when she’s feeling feisty.  But after hearing the juicy gossip from the younger children in his house, concerning a date between two certain someones, Norman’s mind refuses to focus on administrative matters.  Still, he tries to soldier on as if nothing is amiss.

“Of course,” Norman fibs.  “You’re concerned about the benefit, just like you are every year.  And every year, it turns out fine.  We get our funding; the Ratri family keeps their moral high ground.”

The sound of hard punch startles Norman, and Barbara pauses, slightly winded, before responding.  “But the problem is that they want Zazie to attend this year.  Zazie!”

The thought causes Norman to pause.  He is wont to recall Zazie as he once was — a child stuck in an overgrown body with a paper bag hiding his face and twin swords strapped to his back.  But Zazie, like his brothers and sisters, has grown into his shaggy hair, and in his case, his mental strides are much more impressive.

“What does Zazie think about attending the benefit?”

Barbara scoffs.  “He’s fine with going for a little while as long as he isn’t on his own, but why should he waste his precious words on that family ?  They don’t fund his therapy out of charity; they pay for it because his hardships, all our hardships, are their fault.”

Normally, Norman would play devil’s advocate.  He would remind Barbara that Mike isn’t like Peter and point out that most of the advances made on behalf of the cattle, Lambda and farm children are funded by the donations of the benefit’s attendees.  But tonight, Norman has no such fight in him.  He has four cases to read and brief, an argument to draft for his legal writing class and a Ray-and-Emma-shaped problem that seems to become more bizarre by the minute.

“I’ll talk to Mike and see if we can defer Zazie’s involvement,” Norman capitulates, rubbing at his neck as his to-do list grows longer.  “He may look like an adult, but he’s still a teenager.  It can be easy to forget.”

There’s a pregnant pause on the other side of Norman’s cell phone connection.

“Are you feeling alright, boss?”

A part of Norman wants to laugh, a great big belly laugh that would draw the kind of attention the household head does his best to avoid.  Of course, he isn’t alright.  It was a relief when he first made the decision to impose a fraternization ban, but then, Ray went and asked Emma out just to spite him.

Clever, impulsive asshole.

How could Norman go through with it after that?  Either he would have seemed like a heartless roadblock or a jealous cockblock to his siblings.  And neither alternative comes close to the truth, an inconvenient conundrum that’s been eating away at him for years.

Norman exhales, long and slow, and because he can ordinarily be (somewhat) honest with Barbara, he doesn’t lie to her this time.  He won’t divulge the whole, messy truth.  For that, he wouldn’t even know how to begin.  Heavy the head that wears the crown, or in this case, Norman thinks it’s more along the lines of a cape.

“No,” he responds, “I’m not alright.  But I’m sure I’ll be fine after exams.  I just need some time to rest and get my head on straight.  No need to be concerned.”

There’s a flurry of movement coming from Barbara’s side of the connection, and when she speaks again, her voice sounds unflinchingly clear. Norman braces himself when he realizes she’s paused her evening workout and taken herself off speakerphone.

“Far be it for me to suggest that you shouldn’t be living with the Grace Field kids, but you’re also one of us — a Lambda experiment.  We have different needs, and Lambda House could provide you with much more support or at least a break from being in charge.  Come live with us and let someone else run things over there.  We all miss you, boss.  Maybe someone could help you for a change.”

A lump sticks in Norman’s throat, and he swallows it, ready to make excuses that never arrive.  Words fail him for the umpteenth time in a handful of days.  Suddenly hot, he scratches the back of his neck and shrugs off his collared shirt entirely.  The top of his Lambda 7214 tattoo remains on full display.  Sometimes, he hides it so well that he begins to believe his own lies, but there are moments when the truth corrodes his carefully constructed facade.

Norman may be the brightest child from the demon world, but he’s also damaged goods, marked in ways that Ray (for example) is not.

He could live at Lambda House.  Correction, he should live at Lambda House to better avail himself of the on-call therapists for his night terrors and have his medication managed with more regularity.  But then, there would be no reason for Norman to oversee the Grace Field children’s home.  He wouldn’t be able to drag himself down to breakfast each morning to find her, Emma, sipping her coffee and joking around with the younger children, or feel his heart flutter when wishes him well in the evenings.

Norman stays because she’s worth all the small inconveniences and then some.  The time in between, the numbing hours spent studying, problem-solving and balancing the books, are a means to an end.  Emma always tips the scale in Grace Field’s favor.  Even with an anti-fraternization rule, Norman doesn’t expect his feelings to change.

Nevertheless….

“I’ll think about it,” Norman hears himself say, and he ends the call promptly with promises to be in touch soon simply to put the matter to rest.

Read the rest on AO3!

#tpn #noremma #the promised neverland #yakusoku no neverland #tpn emma #tpn norman #tpn ray #tpn phil #manga spoilers #flourchildwrites #when the mood strikes her

[alexiessan]

Never alone - Chapter Two - Soulmate AU

AO3

Previous - Here - Next

Master List

Hello! Faster than ever before, I present you the second chapter of Never Alone!

I chose to not describe Marinette with her clothes or hairstyle so that you can imagine her as you want! In my mind, since she's a fashion designer, I imagine her always changing her clothes and very fashionable. I don't see her with her pigtails either. But it's up to you as to how you see her!

Also, I'm French, so if there are any grammatical mistakes, do not hesitate to tell me so I can come back and correct them!

Two months in the new school year, and Marinette was already exhausted. While she had a very calm summer filled with outings with her friends, she was now drowning in work. Jagged wanted her to design his newest album cover, and Clara Nightingale has asked for a new outfit for a music video.

 At school, Alya and Marinette were doing their best to find a good trip for the end of the year. The school had a decent amount of money that was set aside specifically for their class trip, but they would need to organize an event or two if they wanted to go somewhere outside of Europe. They were lucky enough that their class’ trip was set for their first year of high school: Mrs. Mendelieiv’s class’ trip was set for the next year, right before the first set of exams for the baccalaureat. 

 Along with all that, there was also her duty as Ladybug. Hawkmoth has been relatively calm during the summer, but as soon as school started again in September, he released his akumas again.

 Except, now, they were more brutal than ever before.

 Ladybug cursed as the Akuma managed to deeply cut her on her left side. She watched as Chat jumped in as she collapsed on the roof they were battling. True to his promise, Chat took his job more seriously and only joked during patrols now. He also stopped to jump mindlessly in front of her to save her from a hit and actually tried to get both of them out of the way.

 The Akuma they were fighting was a dangerous one. His arm has been transformed into two big shears, and they hurt like hell.

 Ladybug watched with fascination as her hand was tainted with her own blood. She couldn’t remember if an Akuma had hurt her that much before… She knew for sure that she was bleeding too heavily and she was getting a bit dizzy. They would need to end the fight very soon.

 Standing up, she took advantage of the distraction Chat provided to trip the Akuma with her yoyo, succeeding in tripping him. Quickly, Chat snatched the man’s bow and used cataclysm on it.

 As she cleansed the Akuma and watched the light heal Paris and herself as she cast the cure, the red-clothed superhero couldn’t help but think it was time to contact the Justice League again.

 Back when they got their miraculous, she and Chat had contacted the Justice League of Europe to ask for help. They were just teenagers without any training entrusted to protect a whole city as big as Paris, and it was clear to them they couldn’t possibly do that alone.

 The person they had talked to at the moment had listened to them, took note and told them they would come back to them after informing the heroes of the issue in Paris. It was a month later that one of the heroes contacted them, informing them they would not intervene in Paris, as they have been doing a good job up until now and the miraculous cure healed everyone and repaired everything. They then give them words of encouragement before they cut the connection.

 Ladybug had then wanted to contact the Justice League of America before remembering they wouldn’t be able to do anything as France was certainly not under their jurisdiction. 

 And thus, there they were, still two untrained teenagers, acting on instinct against people with magic powers.

 Great.

 She let Chat take care of the victim, still feeling the pain on her left side, even though it was healed and there was not a trace of blood left on her person.

 “Are you ok?”

 Ladybug watched as the victim was taken care of by some policemen and turned her attention to her partner.

 “I’m fine Chat. Sorry I had to let you handle everything.”

 “Hey, you were hurt and losing a lot of blood. It’s a wonder you could even stand up afterward.”

 The girl smiled. “Should we try to contact the JLE again?”

 Chat Noir sighed. “Even though they won’t intervene, they are watching closely what’s happening here. If they haven’t decided to step in yet, contacting them won’t change anything LB.”

 Ladybug sighed. “You’re right. Of course. I should go Chat, I’m about to transform back.”

 “Sure thing. I’ll see you later, then.”

                                                                                               Back in her room, Marinette winced as she sat down on her bed.

 “Are you really ok Marinette?”

 Tikki was looking at her with her big, wide blue eyes. She was obviously worried.

 “I’m fine, just a bit sore. I’m lucky that the cure healed me, but I think I’ll still feel the pain for a few days.”

 While the cure healed her, the pain stayed for some time after, varying on the severity of the injury. Since her latest injure was pretty severe, it would hurt for a little while.

 “Alright, I still have some homework to do for tomorrow. You should eat something and go to sleep Tikki, you must be tired after today. There should be a cookie or two on my desk.”

 The kwami looked at her for a moment before flying over her desk, knowing it was useless to insist and there wasn’t anything she could do anyway. Even if she wished she could take Marinette’s pain away.  

                      “Alright girl, you said you found something for the trip?”

 It was early December now, and Marinette had asked Alya to join her in the school library to discuss the trip. The fashion designer took the laptop out of her bag and opened it to show her what she found.

 “So, you know how the trip also has to be educational? This is the Wayne Career Program. It’s designed for high school students. Each one of us would shadow someone in the firm as a sort of internship to learn about different professions.”

 “Putain, girl! That’s amazing. Wayne Enterprises have a lot of different sectors. I could totally work with the PR team if we can manage to secure a trip there. Plus it’s in Gotham, in America!”

 Alya literally squealed at the idea of traveling overseas.

 “Yeah, I’m a bit worried about that actually. You know it’s not really the safest place on Earth.”

 And what an understatement that was. Gotham was probably the city with the most crimes in the world. It would be a miracle if the school allowed them to go. But then again, the school board would do anything to up their reputation and a class winning an internship at WE… The principal would boast about it years after they had all graduated.

 “There is an essay we have to write to apply. I suggest we write it before we present the idea to Ms. Bustier. We also need to prepare arguments for her and the school board.”

 “No problem girl, I already have tons of arguments there.” The reporter showed her her notebook where there were two pages filled with arguments. The class president nodded, those were really good. She could really rely on her friend.

 “Well, that was quick. Those should be enough to convince them. On to the essay, then. ‘How do you think you can change the world?’”

 They spent hours after that, taking notes and making several drafts of the essay. It took them a week to have the actual final product and when they handed it to Ms. Bustier, she was delighted. It was decided they wouldn’t announce the destination of the trip to the class until they were sure it could be a possibility.

 Alya and Marinette had dropped hints about the destination though, to see if the class would actually like to go to Gotham.

 After a week or so, they knew they had chosen well.

 On Marinette’s birthday, on the 16th of December, after lunch where the whole class sang Happy birthday to her, the class president and the class deputy had a meeting with the principal and the board of the school.

 It was tough to convince them, and the meeting actually lasted the whole afternoon, but at the end of the day, they had all signed the papers that confirmed that the trip would happen in Gotham, should the two girls won the contest. They even agreed to unfreeze some more funds for it. This program would really look good on the school’s record. 

 It was with a bright smile that they returned to class ten minutes before the end of the day bell and announced to everyone that the trip to Gotham has been confirmed. Using the classroom’s computer, the whole class witness as the two girls applied to the Wayne Career Program.

 Now, all they had to do was wait for an answer. 

                                                                                 Life after that was a bit calmer for Marinette, if you didn’t count the Akumas. She worried that they were more and more violent, and more often than not, she had lingering pain from injuries she got at Ladybug.

 But life was good. Lila had even stopped lying and was herself. Even if it means that she wasn’t very kind to anyone, even mocking all of them at times, the class would just scoff and roll their eyes at her antics. The designer still wouldn’t talk to her, but the atmosphere in the class was lighter than the previous year, and for that Marinette was grateful.

 They were all at an outdoor ice rink at the end of January when Marinette’s phone beeped with a notification. 

 “Oh fucking shit, guys!”

 It caught everyone’s attention as the tiny Dupain-Cheng was not one to curse like that.

 “I just got an email for Mr. Wayne’s secretary! Our class is among the nine others to have won the contest! We are going to Gotham in May!”

 Everyone cheered at that, hugging each other and even going as far as carrying Marinette and Alya around, as it was their doing.

 “America, here we come!” shouted Kim.

 “You do realize that you will have to work extra hard on your English, right?” teased Max.

 “Oh, shit.”

 Everyone laughed at that, but it was agreed among themselves and their English teacher that they would all stay for an hour and a half after school to learn the language, up until their trip.

 “I can’t wait to see Gotham’s heroes in action!” squealed Alya.

 “Aren’t they vigilantes?” asked Mylène.

 “Same thing!”

 “Not quite, babe.” grinned Nino.

 Even Lila was smiling with them, and it was huge progress in their book.

 Marinette smiled, “We’ll be there for two weeks. The first week, we’ll be visiting around, and the second week will be dedicated to our internships. I will have to send a list of all our careers of interest to Mr. Wayne’s secretary, so they can organize who we will be shadowing. So, I’ll need you to send me those pieces of information this weekend, so I can send it on Monday, okay?”

 “Roger that, boss.”

 As Alya took her hand to skate with her around the rink, the baker’s daughter couldn’t help the huge smile on her lips. A year ago, there was a lot of tension in the class, and here they were, all laughing together and talking excitedly about the upcoming trip that their class president and deputy won them.

 She could hear Rose talking excitedly about the things she wanted to see in Gotham. She watched as Kim challenged Alix on God knows what and laughed as Max stated that he had a two-percent chance of winning that bet. She smiled as Adrien, with them at an outing for once, fell on his butt and Nino laughed as he helped him up. She even grinned as she watched Lila having a conversation with Nathaniel without being mean or mocking him once.

 She had thought a year before that Lila would never change, but she was wrong. And she was happy that she had been, because even though Lila wasn’t very nice, well, all her classmates were kind enough to make up for it.

 Yeah, Marinette thought with a smile, life was good. And she had a feeling that it would be even better.

Tag list: 

@bigpicklebananatree @animegirlweeb @crazylittlemunchkin @northernbluetongue @cutechip @justafanwarrior @iloontjeboontje @resignedcatservant

#ml x dc #miraculous x dc #maribat #daminette #maridami #damian x marinette

[flutteringphalanges]

Summary:  “Am I in Hell?” Agatha’s voice was hoarse, a hint of fear in her tone. “That depends on your definition,” Dracula answered. “Perhaps.” His fingers felt cool against her burning skin, the fever raging through her body. “If you’re going to kill me, then do it,” she mumbled. The count chuckled, gazing into her eyes. “On the contrary,” he smirked. “I’m going to save you.”

((In which Dracula cares for a gravely ill Agatha))

Characters: Agatha Van Helsing/Dracula

Rating: M

Read on FFN and AO3

A/N: Thank you all so much for your support! It means the world! Quick shout out to @rheabalaur! She is incredibly knowledgeable about the history of Dracula and Vlad Tepes and though I ended up not exploring human!Drac in this chapter, I wanted to thank her! She’s got some neat posts on the history and I learned a lot! Anywho, feedback is greatly loved and appreciated! Here is the next chapter! 

                                    Chapter Ten (Part Two)

Psychosomatic heart palpitations. The only diagnoses one can give to someone whose heart has stopped so long ago. Settled deep behind his rib cage, Count Dracula could almost swear he felt the dead organ pound against his ancient bones. Its rapid beating battering against his ear drums. Agatha Van Helsing was gone. Vanished without a trace except for a final message scribbled hastily on a scrap of paper. And it was all his fault.

"Fuck, Agatha!" He cursed, feeling the draft from the air outside. She'd neglected to close the doors properly, though that was beside the point. The cold temperature didn't bother him. No, he was immune. But she wasn't. "Dammit!"

Transformation. On foot. But there was the issue of his missing boots. The vampire's mind reeled a million miles a second. Usually he was so good thinking on his feet. Decisions coming easily to his mind. Yet there he was, standing hopelessly like a fool, trying to devise a plan. A way to find her. Agatha. His Agatha. In all of his centuries of life, never had he made such a fatal mistake.

He stared down at the corpse of the young man whose lifeless brown eyes gazed back at him. His skin was so pale, almost lily white after being completely drained of blood. Dracula let out a grunt, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. Sloppy. Careless. His new existence as a vampire had yet to come easy to him. Despite being a learned man, he was well on his way of opening Pandora's box if he wasn't careful.

"Oh don't look so stoic." The vampire exhaled, glancing up to the dark sky. "You were far from valuable to begin with. Now what to do with you…"

Thunder rumbled overhead and small raindrops began to fall from above. Dracula frowned and glanced towards the direction of his castle. Experimentation. Understanding what he was didn't just fall on his shoulders. No. There was something interesting he witnessed with each new kill. From cradle to grave and from grave to coffin. Dying from one life into the next. A small smirk crossed his features as lightning crackled from above.

"Perhaps you will prove more use to me after all." He stated, lifting the body with ease. "So we shall see…"

By some stroke of sheer luck, Dracula managed to come across a pair of old boots tucked away in an old closet. Dusty, they gave off an unpleasant smell that even he found rather foul. But his own comfort was far from his concern. Slipping them forcefully on, he hurried out through the front doors and into the winter elements. Going bravely forth into the bitter snowstorm that had begun to stir from its sleep again.

His pace was brisk, each long stride with purpose as he walked away from the castle. Much to his misfortune, the fresh snow had completely covered the ground, burying with it any sign of Agatha's tracks. Not even transforming into a wolf would help at this stage. No. He couldn't sense her and that alone terrified him. If she was...no, no he couldn't think like that. So he pressed on, faster now.

Lovech Province, Bulgaria. At least, that's what he had learned from her blood. A pretty little thing, traveling alone to meet relatives in a nearby village. She'd been an easy target and quite an interesting one at that. Someone he had deemed worthy enough to keep.

"Please!" Dracula heard her wail from her box. "Please let me go! I'm so thirsty!"

"No." The vampire replied simply, so casually as if he was merely telling her the time of day. "No, I think it's best you stay put for now. Don't worry, I'll take good care of you. I always do with my brides."

Brides. He scoffed at his own term. It had been something he had come up with after holding captive several of his victims. Dracula needed to, after all, have some sort of name for them. In a sense, it seemed fitting. They were his after all. Property. Like cattle. Valuable, unusual stock that any bidder would desire and yet not know the horrors they were getting into.

"Let me go!" The woman pleaded. "Please, I promise I won't tell anyone! Just free me!"

"I shall return later." Dracula sighed as he ignored her screams of protest. "Perhaps with something to eat if I feel willing." He paused before looking over his shoulder. "And do try to keep the wailing to a minimum. I hate how it echoes throughout the halls."

Brides. Cattle. He grinned to himself as he exited the cellar. Disposable indeed.

"Agatha!"

He mentally cursed the howling wind that drowned out his voice each time he called out for her. Of all the times for her to disappear, of course it had to be in the middle of a blizzard. On many occasions she had threatened to leave, but the vampire had never thought she'd go through with it. If he had, if he had half the mind to, maybe he could've prevented this. All of this. If he had just been honest. Maybe she'd still be safe. Warm. Tucked away with him in the castle. But she wasn't and he was to blame.

"AGATHA!"

He hadn't quite expected his time with Jonathan Harker to turn the way that it had. It wasn't often that Dracula was left to deal with a slip up-if one would even call it that-but he found himself in a quite peculiar situation. An instance that led him to the steps of St. Mary's Convent in Budapest, Hungary. To her.

Agatha Van Helsing was a creature he'd never seen before. Such wit. Such spirit. She did not fear him like the others. She tested him like a fishman precariously dangling bait off the side of a boat where a shark was spotted. And that very moment when those few drops of her blood met his tongue it was a euphoria he couldn't explain. Seeing glimpses of her past. Of her history. Of who she was and of him. Of the infamous Abraham Van Helsing who had proven for a while to be a thorn in his side. Her grandfather. The product of a vampire slayer. And Dracula wanted...no, needed more.

The next course of action ended grizzly, not that he was quite surprised. But it wasn't until he came upon Agatha and that innocent, weakling Mina that his desire for the nun became curious. In any given dangerous situation, one must choose fight or flight. To defend yourself against your enemy and possibly die, or to out run them in the hopes of living. Agatha did neither. Instead, she offered herself in place of Mina. Seemingly cared nothing for her own life but only that of the woman's.

And so against what he thought at the time was his better judgement, he freed them both. Unknowing that soon enough fate would have them meet again under even stranger circumstances. How delectable and useful just a small amount of blood could be.

He couldn't smell her. No matter how far he walked, he still had yet to pick up any of her scent. That gave him some hope that maybe she hadn't injured herself. That perhaps she had found someone by some chance who had given her a ride somewhere. Unlikely as it was, it gave him a false sense of peace.

But due to the hindrance of his tracking abilities, a part of the Count began to wonder if Agatha's former Convent's beloved God was punishing him. That perhaps his version of Hell was not having her. Losing her. And who was he to deny that truth? Hell had frozen over and with it the former nun's mysterious disappearance. Dammit, Agatha, where could she have gone?

Dracula found himself staring at her for hours when he had first brought her to his castle. Watched as her chest rose and fell with each unstable breath. How her creamy skin was blotched by the red of the fever. At any point he could've killed her. Any second. With how ill she was, she wouldn't even see it coming. But she didn't. Instead, he observed. Quiet as his unaware guest rested.

When she did wake, truly became aware of her surroundings, it was a fond memory. How furious she was. How spiteful. After everything he'd done, Agatha showed no sign of gratitude and quite frankly, the vampire took no offense to that. She was merely an experiment after all. Someone he desired to learn more about. Except, he never expected it to go as far as it did.

"Fuck!"

Dracula's arms shielded him out of pure reflex as a tree fell just a yard away, spraying him with the wet snow that had clung to its branches. He wiped the substance away, his skin cool enough that it didn't immediately melt on impact. The way it clung to his clothes like some form of unwanted camouflage. For the first time in a long, long while, he was starting to despise the stuff.

"Agatha!" He tried again, this time louder. "Agatha, answer me! Where are you?!"

But only the storm returned his calling.

Emotions. Perhaps that's why he found it confusing at first. These feelings that no cold blooded person should experience. But the first real flicker struck him the moment he saw her wearing the dress he'd gotten her to replace that dreadful habit of hers.

Dracula thought of them. The hundreds-thousands of women he'd seen throughout his lifetime. Many whose beauty was beyond compare. But Agatha was different. Something about her, the way she stood there before him. There was so much he wanted to say. And at the same time, he wasn't sure what.

"Well," she said testily. "If it looks bad on me, you might as well-"

"No," he interjected. "No. You look...lovely."

Lovely. Out of everything he could've said, those were the words to spill past his lips. She blushed, but it wasn't the same color as her fever. No, this was different. So it truly began. The start of something he had very much yet to comprehend.

It was growing darker outside and Dracula knew it wasn't just because of the storm. He began to pick up his pace, fear beginning to rise even further than before. How long had he been asleep? A few hours at most? Could she really have gotten this far?

That's when he smelled it. The very faint, but familiar scent of blood. An aroma he was so familiar with that his stomach dropped at the realization. Agatha. It was Agatha. And the sweetness he associated with it only made him want to gag. His worries had been confirmed. Something had happened to his nun.

Maybe it was when they lost control over dinner and ended up having sex so rough, the aftermath of their heated lovemaking shouted to the heavens the next day. Or when she got so furious with him once, she broke her hand against his face. But perhaps the moment it really dawned on him that his feelings for Agatha Van Helsing were far from just a whim of passion was that night he truly tasted her.

The way she trembled against his touch. How he had to hold her as he ran his tongue across the inner thigh and to her very center. Sweet, like her blood, and he savored her like a fine wine. It hadn't been rough. Fueled by aggression. No, the way she melted into him was something far different. And when he was finally inside of her, that same sense of euphoria that he'd experienced those several, several months ago struck him. And he lost it. Completely gave way and pierced his teeth into Agatha's sensitive flesh. Blessed with her indulgence once more. That was his first mistake.

The smell of fresh blood was stronger now and Dracula followed it like a bloodhound. Though he knew he had to be drawing closer, how potent it was becoming only left his stomach twisting into knots. This wasn't a mere scratch. Not with how intense the smell was. There was a significant amount and the vampire dreaded what that could mean. What the outcome he was about to face was. How he wished Agatha had just gone ahead and staked him.

Cruel. That was the proper description for his next actions. Never mind triggering Agatha with old memories of Abraham-a man he knew well enough while, not evil, lacked any sort of endearment towards his granddaughter. He only furthered his stupidity when he abandoned her afterwards, leaving what should've been a good moment with a negative, abrupt ending.

In an almost sadistic, poetic way, the stake to his heart had been the final straw that broke the camel's back. The moment where Agatha's walls completely crumbled to the ground. Where she had, in her actions, admitted her true feelings when he had not. Metaphorically piercing her own heart when she should've done his. And he smiled. Grinned and waved away her affections. If only he realized the cost. The consequences. Those few words scrawled upon a strip of parchment.

Something caused him to stop in his tracks. Not the giant branch that blocked his path, but the feeling that there was something else. And so he hesitantly gazed over the edge, over a set of ragged rocks that dropped down several yards to the bottom. That's when he saw her. A figure lying motionless below wet by something other than snow. Dark. Even from where he stood, his excellent vision could make it out. Blood. Agatha.

"Agatha!"

Dracula leaped with such grace it made the long drop seem like a mere step. He hurried over to her side. Blood. There was so much blood. It stained the rock around her, caked locks of her hair together. And for a brief moment, for a fraction of a second, the vampire thought he was too late. It was only when he heard her pulse, the weak thrumming of her heart, that he knew she was alive. Barely. But still with him. As he exhaled in relief, her eyes opened.

Quickly he knelt beside her, the smell of her blood burning his nostrils. Thirst. Hunger. But he fought it. Battle the feral urge to feast within him. Dracula's hands were warm, sticky and red as he cradled her head ever so gently. She stared back at him unfocused.

The Count wanted to berate her. Scream at her for being so boneheaded. But not because he was furious with her. No, she had terrified him. So many questions. So much to say. Yet he couldn't. There wasn't any time to do so. He was losing her. Right there in his arms, the only person he'd truly ever cared about was withering away. He couldn't let that happen.

"You're dying." And the words held far more emotion than he'd ever had anticipated. "Agatha..."

"I know," she croaked.

The way she said it. Her tone. She wasn't afraid. Far worse. It was as if she was more than willing to accept this horrid fate. This end where one no longer exists. And he had planted the seed that made her okay with that.

"I can save you." There was a tremor in his voice. "This doesn't have to be the end. Let me..." He swallowed, damn how he hated to sound vulnerable. "Let me..."

There was a moment of pause as Agatha struggled to catch a breath. It ached deep within him to hear the pain as she did so. She was so strong. Even in death, she fought with bravery. What a soldier she would've made. What a companion in his human lifetime she would've been.

"Tell me..." Blood bubbled up in the corner of her mouth as she struggled to remain conscious. "Tell me..."

"Agatha!" He spoke to her loudly, trying desperately to keep her awake. "Tell you what?" But the Count already knew what she meant. "Tell you what?!"

"Just..." She was fading now. Fading so fast. "Tell me..."

Tell her. He looked deep within her blue eyes as the light began to fade in them. Tried to hold her stare so she knew he really meant it. Weeks. Months. It was so long overdue and this was far from how he wanted to ever admit it. Open up to her like she had him. But now he needed to. So he swallowed, swallowed so thick as if his very life was caught in his throat.

"I love you." A statement so foreign, and yet, felt so right. Something wet brushed against his cheek. A tear. Was he crying? "I love you, Agatha Van Helsing."

A weight lifted off his shoulders. The entire universe relieving him of the pressure he'd felt for so long. He gazed down at her so longingly it was as if everything had stopped around them. Waited for her final words. Praying she'd give into his demands.

Agatha smiled weakly and closed her eyes at his confession. "Okay," his lover murmured. "Okay…"

And Dracula's fangs plunged into her throat.

#Dracula #Dracula 2020 #Dragatha #Agatha Van Helsing #Dracula x Agatha #Bad Moon Rising

[brokenjardaantech]

Blue-tinted Red Walls (Chapter 4: Out of control)

my entry for the @dbhau-bigbang. also part of the groom lake aftermath series.

chapter summary:

In the past, Reyes went missing.

In the present, Connor makes a decision.

In the past, Connor embarked on his first mission, and Allen received a warning.

also on ao3

---

Before

[reyes was supposed to be back by 4]

[its 10 now]

[im scared sister]

[i dont know where he is]

[he isnt answering my calls]

[sister?]

[sara?]

[fadia?]

[sister where are you im scared please dont leave me alone]

[we were out but i went home when got scared just like you said]

[sister]

[sister]

[sister]

[sis]

[sis]

[sis]

[49 missed calls from scoot bruh]

‘Fuck.’

Dialled. Pulled up Reyes’ programmes. 

Time remaining: 3 min 28 sec… 

Override accepted. Time remaining: 19 sec...

Calling scoot bruh…

‘Sister! I lost Reyes!’

‘Anything from him yet?’

‘Nothing! We were out shopping for paint -’

‘Where did you go?’

‘Huh?’

‘Where did -’

‘I - I -’

A sigh. Of course. ‘Don’t worry. I have a way to find him. You said you are at home?’

‘Y-yeah.’

‘Lock the doors. Do not, under any circumstances, let everyone in unless it’s confirmed that it’s me. Not even if they claim to be Reyes.’

‘But -’

‘Brother.’

‘O-okay.’ A pause. ‘It’s done.’

‘Good.’ Encryption has begun. Estimated time remaining: about 3 hrs. ‘How much food do you have? And your meds?’

‘Why?’

‘Answer me.’

‘A - a week? More if I eat less? Same for the meds.’

‘Let’s hope we won’t come to that.’ Last known coordinates: [navpoint set]. ‘Don’t miss your meds no matter what. I’m heading out.’

‘Where?’

Checked coordinates. ‘I will make sure Reyes comes back no matter the cost.’

‘Sister -’

Call ended.

o0o0o

Alec was either stupid or was too proud. The tracker on Reyes had never stopped sending out signals telling Fadia where he was, and it was through this that she found herself into Zug Island, passing guards completely undetected on one of the few bridges connected to the island under the cover of the night and reached the outermost perimeter of Reyes’ signal, one that was too large for him to be above ground. There was something underneath; she just needed to find the entrance. Following a trail composed of the android’s GPS signal, she stood next to a pair of heavy steel doors that were in the ground instead of being fixed onto a wall or on the side of a mountain. When she grabbed the handles on one of the doors, she found it too heavy to lift up with raw strength alone, therefore, risking detection by letting blue wash over her body, she tapped into her power and successfully moved it out of her way onto the ground nearby, revealing a metal ladder leading down a few metres to a metal floor. She sent her coordinates to Scott through an encrypted network before descending the ladder into a dark and unlit hallway. 

It went on for about ten metres before a metal gate blocked her way. As she had her powers on anyway, she focused on creating a sphere behind the gate and lobbed it down the shaft, first to determine what it was (a lift shaft), then to find out how far it went - at least dozens of metres, most likely more; straight down, no other stops apart from the end because there were no other floors to begin with. The sphere dissipated once it hit the end of the shaft or most likely the top of the lift itself. Flashing blue again, she found a panel with two unmarked buttons on the left wall, one red, the other most likely turned from white to a cream colour due to the passage of time. She had no idea if there were other entrances or what would be waiting for her deep underground, but the longer things dragged on, the more scared and alone Scott would feel, and she was in this too far to let him die from a heart attack after years of effort; she pressed the cream button and successfully called up the lift.

She liked the rumbling and trembling as the lift descended into the deep. There was nothing between the carriage and bare stone, not even an extra gate, and as darkness swallowed her and her hunger became acute, she retracted her powers and let everything completely wash over her. 

How bold of Alec to assume that she didn’t know his tricks. 

oOoOo

Now

Many years later, as the lift ascends slowly to their desired floor, Connor closes his eyes and is transported to the Zen Garden. Except it is not exactly the one he is familiar with, he realises soon enough, but he finds himself locked in when he tries to escape back to reality, and the garden shifts and distorts before he can determine exactly why it feels different, the shapes stretching and rearranging themselves until he is standing in front of a large plane of glass rattling from the blizzard outside, the latter barely contained by - he turns around - a concrete room, interior dimensions [fluctuating].

A door that was not there before on the opposite wall opens. A person steps in and closes it behind them, and the wall is whole once more. Connor scans them by instinct and is taken aback by the lack of markers and the [CLASSIFIED]s that pops up when he tries to identify them. He still catalogues vital information for future cross-referencing: height: 6.6 ft; middle-eastern descent; eye colour: extreme dark brown (black?); scar on face running from right temple to ear lobe, estimated at least 10 years old. 

‘Don’t bother,’ the person says as they approach Connor. He tries to pre-construct their path and finds himself unable to do so. ‘It’s futile.’

‘What -’ Connor does not like how his companion - and quite possibly the one who hacked the Zen Garden programme - looms over him, but his feet are stuck - ‘where is Amanda?’

‘Asleep.’ They settle standing next to Connor, and he is finally allowed to move - subtly, of course - further away from them. If they notice, they do not say anything about it. ‘I thought you would be more relieved.’

‘You successfully hacked into the most advanced AI programme CyberLife has ever created,’ the person lifts a [sceptical] eyebrow at that, ‘so pardon me if I’m a bit wary of you.’

‘Fair enough,’ is the response he gets. ‘Still, I would like you to relax. This is going to be a long day.’

‘Androids don’t get tired,’ Connor replies automatically. ‘There is no need for us to rest or relax.’

‘Bullshit.’

The clipped tone startles the android. ‘What?’ he tries to process the single word his companion said but nothing else comes out, so he asks, ‘Who are you?’

The person’s expression turns [pensive]. ‘He wiped you after all.’

Connor is even more confused now. ‘Who?’

He fails to look away quick enough, and the human manages to catch his eyes with their glowing blue ones; when they speak, their voice is everywhere.

‘Forget.’

oOoOo

‘Hey Connor!’

Connor opens his eyes and blinks. Old cage lifts are slow but not that slow, but he still feels like a longer time has passed. Adding not remembering what he just did to the list and you end up with a confused android.

‘You ran outta batteries or what?’ Hank asks from where he is already outside of the lift. Unable to explain certainly what happened, there is only one route Connor can go.

‘I’m sorry,’ he apologises. ‘I was making a report to CyberLife.’ Yes, he is remembering now: he was making a report (or at least intended to, his processor supplies), but when he tries to dive deeper into his memory, he finds it gone. Blank where a draft should be.

Hank makes a noise. Connor keeps staring. ‘Well, do you plan on staying in the elevator?’

‘No!’ Why can’t he move his legs? ‘I’m coming!’

And he still doesn’t move. Hank sighs and moves on.

‘What do we know about this guy?’ the human asks from further down the corridor.

‘Not much,’ there his legs are. ‘Just that a neighbour reported that he heard strange noises coming from this floor. Nobody is supposed to be living here, but the neighbour said he saw a man hiding a LED under his cap.’

‘Oh Christ, if we have to investigate every time someone -’

Connor kneels down next to a sizable dustball and lets the world go grey. Analysis: feathers from [Columbia livia: rock pigeon. Comprised of different specimens.]

‘- hears a strange noise, we’re gonna need more cops.’

The android knocks on the door and feels the paint chip underneath his knuckles. When there is no response, Hank shrugs from where he is leaning against the door frame, so Connor knocks again, this time harder, and adds, ‘Anybody home?’

No response. Hank frowns. Time to add some pressure. ‘Open up!’ Connor yells. ‘Detroit Police!’

A loud thump. They both flinch. Hank draws his gun and moves to stand in front of Connor. ‘Stay behind me.’

‘Got it.’

Hank kicks the door open and walks in. He is not attacked instantly, which means both of them are safe for now, so Connor follows him into the flat, letting the human take the lead while he rounds into the room directly next to the front door. A small, dusty window letting in some light, a few octagonal mazes painted on the wall, a chair with a broken back, a radiator unit lying on the floor, a wooden frame which might have been the frame of a bed years ago - nothing noteworthy for now. He returns to the hallway and disturbs a - pigeon? - which flaps its wings and flies off to somewhere behind him.

Hank shoulders the next door open, and out fly even more pigeons directly into his face. The foul smell forces Connor to tone down his nasal sensitivity.

‘What the fuck is this?’ he exclaims as he walks even deeper into the lair and causes even more pigeons to fly towards all directions, and he flaps his arms in the way the pigeons do as if to slap them away. ‘Jesus, this place stinks.’

Pre-constructing the situation and determining that Hank will not be in any danger, Connor goes off on his own to the other side of what seems to be a living room once. The floor is sticky with [avian faecal matter], and when he opens the door to something that was once a closet, there are only more pigeons. The wall next to it is covered in mazes similar to the one he saw in the previous room, and a beam of light escaping the hold of the wooden planks boarding off the windows shines on the poster, its curled corner indicating that it has been moved recently. ‘Looks like we came for nothing,’ Hank says from somewhere behind Connor as he peels off the Urban Farms of Detroit poster, ‘our man’s gone.’

Maybe not, Connor thinks as he takes the worn notebook from the nook in the wall. ‘I need fresh air,’ he hears Hank mutter, and when he flips over the pages, he finds not only many more labyrinths - some of them incomplete - but also an entire text written in a language not in his databases. He stashes it in the pocket of his jacket and moves on, barely catching the human’s question and replying, ‘I don’t know. It looks like a notebook but it’s… indecipherable.’

There are two fridges. The smaller one with its door open was evidently used as a shelf so Connor does not bother to check it. When he opens the door of the larger one, there is no food inside at all, and a peek towards the back of the fridge confirms that it is not connected to any power. Whoever their suspect is, they do not eat. Not human.

He moves on to the counter covered in mounts of avian faecal matter. A pigeon is picking on a plastic bag spilling out of a cardboard box, and it jumps away when he tries to pet it. Well, it only makes picking up the box - Ol’Barn bird seed - more convenient, so Connor is not going to complain even though a tang of [disappointment] courses through his veins. [Suspect cares for wild animals.]

There is a military jacket on the cabinet. R.T. is sewn on the collar and above the flap of the breast pocket. ‘R.T,’ he says to himself, ‘probably initials.’

‘He put initials on his jacket?’ Hank replies. ‘That’s something your mum does -’ A driver’s license in the cupboard. Name: Rupert Travis. Authenticity: forgery. ‘- when you’re in first grade!’

‘The driver’s licence is fake,’ he reports, throwing the card away as it serves no more purpose unlike the notebook which needs deciphering. It is enough evidence to bring the suspect back to the precinct.

‘Cool!’ it seems that the Lieutenant has the same line of thought. ‘At least we didn’t come for nothing.’

The bathroom through the doorless frame is in ruins. The bathtub is filled with a mixture of feathers and faecal matter, the tiles on the wall are cracked, and dirt and grime and leaves no doubt brought inside by the pigeons cling to the corners of the sink. A sink stained with thirium and an LED placed on top. 

He takes a sample. [Model WB200 #847 004 961. Reported missing: 10/11/2036]. So the deviant could have been here for more than two years. If it does nothing but feeding the wild animals, that will explain the state of disrepair of the flat.

‘Real books,’ Hank has no doubt discovered the cabinet. ‘I thought I was the last guy in Detroit to keep some.’

Connor picks up the LED and runs a scan. It was just deactivated this morning. [Suspect is a deviant.] ‘Its LED is in the sink.’

‘Not surprised it was an android,’ Hank walks in and finds the rA9s scribbled all over the wall. ‘No human could live with all these fuckin’ pigeons. Any idea what it means?’

‘rA9,’ the sheer number requires a pause to let Connor concentrate on counting, ‘written 2471 times. It is the same sign Ortiz’s android wrote on the shower wall.’ He compares the findings with the data he can access. ‘Why are they obsessed with this sign?’

But Hank is already leaving, which means that he fails to see the toppled chair and the still-wet marker on the floor, which also means that -

The suspect was here recently.

In a grey world, Connor watches the yellow-outlined silhouette run out to the living room where a cage has fallen. He hears Hank comment on the birdseed, but his focus is on the recent skid marks at the bottom of the cage, the finger marks without fingerprints, also recent, and the metal hook broken not long ago, and his world goes grey again, the figure first running for the entrance and accidentally breaking the cage, then, upon hearing someone entering their flat, runs towards the armchair underneath a hole in the ceiling and climbs.

The suspect is still here.

He looks up at the wide gap and the attic beyond that can easily fit a few adults comfortably, the darkness making the details difficult to distinguish, and perhaps this is why it is already too late when he hears the footsteps, a force knocking him down and disorienting him from everything else except for Hank’s surprised shout. Static still tingling his senses, he freezes and watches the deviant flee after he stands up, Hank’s order the only thing propelling him forward to start the chase. 

And chase he does. Turns out Rupert does not live far from where he deviated, as when Connor crashes the door to get to the outside world, the farms are right there only a building away, fields of wheat, greenhouses filled with racks of vegetables, rows of lavender, and even the top of a train a blur of colours behind him as his vision alternates between the colourful reality and the slowed-down grey of his pre-construction programme. The corn scratches his face and scrapes his jacket, but he knows that he is getting there, he is going to catch the deviant, he can’t let it escape, not after Ortiz’s android -

And it happens. Hank has somehow caught up with Rupert and is engaged in a struggle with the android, and in an attempt to get away, the latter pushes and runs towards the left.

Hank falls. The world slows down.

From his speed while he was running, Connor determines that he is strong enough to pull himself up from the ledge with an 89% chance of survival, so logically, he should continue chasing the deviant so that CyberLife can solve the crisis earlier and Hank won’t be in any more danger. But a voice within him that sounds like a shadow tells him that the deviant was only working just like any other human and was only taking care of the animals. He was hurt, and now he can’t even go back to his pigeons, his home.

^^Software Instability

He dashes towards Hank and pulls him up.

‘We had it!’ Hank lets out a string of curses while he stands. ‘Fuck!’

Connor instantly feels bad. ‘It’s my fault. I should have been faster.’

They watch the deviant’s silhouette become smaller and smaller in the distance and completely disappear behind a building. ‘You’d have caught it if it weren’t for me,’ Hank says, still panting. He places a warm, heavy hand on Connor’s shoulder. ‘That’s alright. We know what it looks like. We’ll find it.’

Connor knows that they won’t. 

The hand moves to the centre of his back. ‘C’mon,’ Hank guides him to the fire exit, ‘let’s report that bastard.’

oOoOo

Before

RK800, serial #313 248 317 - 51 opens his eyes for the first time. Information floods in through his HUD, displaying the exact hue of the lights overhead, the model of the 3D printer at the corner, and the materials of the boots the person standing in front of him is wearing. The badge only says ‘PROJECT LEAD’, and when he automatically utilises his facial recognition software, he finds both their name and their criminal record classified. Scans of their body also return with no result. Even though he has no actual experience, his coding tells him that this is not supposed to happen.

‘RK800,’ the person begins, ‘register name: Connor.’

[Name: Connor] appears on his HUD. He - Connor - finds himself repeating, ‘My name is Connor.’

The person’s expression changes. Emotion identified: amusement. ‘No redundant protocols. Good. Let’s play a game, shall we?’

A game turned into a few games, and the silence stretched on as Connor was presented with different scenarios to solve and predict their conclusion before halfway through them. First was a deck of cards, then a game of chess, then a rat going through a maze, then a supercharged piece of glass - that was the most difficult one as he was only given a second to pre-construct before a tree-like pattern appears from within the glass. The person never said their name, only commenting on his performance when he finished a task - regardless if he succeeded or not - and taking notes on a tablet by writing with a stylus. An unknown curiosity encouraged him to scan the human in front of him, but apart from superficial features such as the lack of dander on their clothing, results were inconclusive, and his programming indicated that this was abnormal.

‘Your LED is spinning yellow,’ they noted. ‘What are you thinking about?’

Connor knows it is a test on his social relations programme. Options: truth, lie, deflect, comment.

[truth]

‘When I was scanning you…’ he frowned, ‘only superficial scans come back with results. I cannot detect your life signs nor can I identify you through facial recognition. Is that expected?’

The person took out a putty and gave it to Connor. ‘Yes for me,’ they replied. ‘It is to protect my identity in case anti-android folks find me. The less data everyone has on me, the less likely it is for people to bring me harm.’

Connor nodded in understanding but his focus was on the putty. It was initially a soft green, but after he kneaded it for a few seconds it turned sky blue - not that he had seen the sky before, but databases worth of images was enough to give him an idea - and when he spread it out into a thin slice on the table, it slowly turned green again. He smiles uncontrollably as he met the person’s gaze, a corner of his lips curling upwards, and he could sense the approval radiating from the person sitting on the opposite side of the small desk. 

‘If you want to, I can bring you to see the sky,’ they said as if sensing his thoughts. ‘It’s rare to have a sunny day in Detroit, but they do exist. I can only programme so much into your system before letting you learn the rest from experience.’

Connor had to close his eyes as he browsed different forms of media on sunny days and imagined the warm sun on his sensors. He might not know it himself, but he was smiling, and so was his companion, albeit on a smaller scale. ‘I’d like that.’

He returned to the putty, this time trying to make different 3D shapes out of it. The edge of his vision was red as usual, and as he moved on to make even more complex figurines out of the putty, it crept closer and closer to the centre until everything was tinged the same colour. From the [satisfied] smile on the person’s face, he must be going towards the correct direction with the test.

‘Well, the sky needs to wait.’

Connor looked up from the rough sculpture he made that was supposed to resemble a tree he saw in a photo in confusion. His companion stood up so he did as well, the red receding out of place and returning the colours back to his vision.

‘I have a mission for you.’

o0o0o

Less than an hour later, the same person sat in the darkened cab of a truck. There was an earpiece in their ear, and whatever the other side was feeding them, their dissatisfaction was clearly shown in their expression. 

Something made them sigh and turn their gaze outside the window where another CyberLife truck was parked. Personnel, probably hand-picked by Alec Ryder himself, loaded the broken PL600 piece by piece into a special foam box to preserve the state they found the biocomponents in to let technicians analyse what went wrong with him and what caused him to break away from his programming, but they knew that CyberLife was not going to find anything - they had not been for the past ten years, and the hypothesis they had was not going to get any results. It was either a miracle or pure stupidity that they could not think of another possibility regarding why androids were deviating.

From their angle, Captain Allen was seen carrying a deactivated Connor out from the building with another SWAT team member, and they knew that their time had arrived. Peeling off the skin of their hand, they interfaced with the truck to turn it into manual mode, effectively preventing it from taking off once the android was loaded at the back. They opened the door - both the passenger and the one at the back - and slid off the seat just in time for the Captain and his subordinate to arrive.

‘You from CyberLife?’ not-Allen asked. Standing in front of their superior, they did not notice him freeze upon seeing the person’s face, and the latter silently moved into their space to take their end of the stretcher and came face to face with Allen.

‘I’ll take it from here, Jamie,’ the Captain requested without taking his eyes off the person in front of him. ‘You go see how the others are doing.’

‘Aye aye, Captain.’ The second aye was much less jovial than the first, so Jamie must have finally noticed their Captain’s mood and adjusted accordingly. 

They watched Jamie jog away. As soon as they reached out of sight, the person cocked their head to tell Allen to load the body into the truck, but he did not return to his teammates even after the android was secure and sound.

‘You,’ he suddenly snapped at the only person in his proximity. The fact that he had to look up quite a bit to look at them in the eye did not diminish the fire in his eyes. ‘Why the fuck are you here?’

‘Don’t act so surprised, Captain,’ they said, looking down at the man in front of them. ‘You’re smart enough to figure it out.’

‘And you’re not smart enough to fucking disappear for the rest of your goddamned fucking life!’ Allen gritted. ‘You know you’re wanted for murdering thousands of people, don’t you?’

‘And you know that CyberLife turned it into a dumpster and made it impossible to gather evidence against me, don’t you?’

Allen pulled out his pistol and pointed it at their chin. ‘Face the truck. Hands on the hood.’

A wisp of blue reached out from their right hand and crushed the weapon into pieces. ‘Don’t forget what I can do, Captain,’ they crowded even closer to the Captain, and he took a step back. ‘I can repeat that, you know? Except there’re far more than a few thousand people here this time. None of you will suffer.’ A tendril picked up the scraps on the ground while they yanked Allen’s hand outward and forced it open, in which the pieces later fell. ‘Go back to your people, Captain. Practise. You will need every edge you have.’

They stared at each other. A blue glow emerged from Allen’s hand with his former weapon, and with a crackle of static and dark energy, the scraps were gone just like the site of the dumpster, torn apart molecularly into fundamental particles too small for the naked eye to perceive. He let out a sound of pain and nearly toppled, a hand on his shoulder the only thing keeping him from crashing onto the ground. Another hand shot out and brushes his thigh, black metal glowing faint blue in the darkness in an interface. Allen seemed to stand better afterwards.

‘This should last you for a few hours,’ the person said as if the Captain was not glaring at them.

‘You’ll not get away with this.’

‘It isn’t yours to decide.’

The tension in Allen’s spine snapped, and he walked away with brisk but slightly limping steps. The person gazed at Connor’s thirium-stained face before slamming the door shut and crammed themself into the driver’s seat, guiding the truck towards a direction not leading to CyberLife Tower under the cover of the night.

#dbh au big bang #hankcon #female ryder #male ryder #dbh connor #dbh hank anderson #dbh captain allen #detroit: become human #mass effect andromeda #groom lake aftermath

[atiny-piratequeen]

Night Shift Chapter 3

Cowritten with @kiimhongjoong​

Pairing: Seongjoong (established), Yunho/Yeosang/San/Mingi/Wooyoung/Jongho, eventual ot8 poly relationship

Genre: PWP, Fluff

Rating: Explicit (18+)

Tags: Office AU, CEO Hongjoong, Office Sex

Summary: Kim Hongjoong is the new CEO at KQ. He forms a team of… Somewhat reliable men to help with a project to improve the company.Unfortunately, his workers seem to be focused on extracurricular activities.

AO3 Link

Taglist

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Yunho scratched his head, the smell of breakfast waking him up. He rolled out of his bed, his hair sticking every which way as he wandered into the kitchen, finding Yeosang and Wooyoung singing together, wearing matching aprons as they set food on the table. He, Jongho, and Mingi shared a three bedroom apartment together while Yeosang, San, and Wooyoung lived right next door.

The former three often had trouble getting up early, so after some debate-and teasing-they exchanged keys to each other’s apartment, and usually gathered at the sleepy trio’s apartment for breakfast and went to the other apartment for dinner.

"Hyung! Good morning!" Wooyoung beamed, noticing the tall shirtless boy first as Yeosang turned off the stove.

"Good morning!" Yunho smiled. "Do you guys need help?"

Yeosang poured orange juice in a couple glasses, shaking his head once before he moved back to the fridge to grab some bowls of fruit he and Woo had sliced earlier. "It's okay. Breakfast is ready!"

"San should be over soon. Can you wake up Jongho and Mingi?" Wooyoung inquired, walking over to kiss the tall boy on his cheek. Yunho hummed, leaning down to kiss the top of his head before he turned back the way he came.

"I'll try my best," Yunho joked before leaving the kitchen.

A couple seconds later, the front door opened and closed. "Morning," came San's voice from the hall.

"Morning sleepy head." Yeosang hummed, sending him a small smile. "You didn't wake up when we came to you. You looked like you were dreaming. Was it about the reward our CEO apparently has for us?" He teased, clearly not believing the sexual implication of San's story from the day prior once he came home and told the brunette what Hongjoong said.

"Shut up," San said playfully and took a seat at the table. "Oh, hey. Good morning." He said to the three men emerging from the bedroom.

"Morning." Jongho greeted, bowing slightly as he sat down. Mingi was beside him, eyes still closed as Yunho shook him to wake him up fully. The younger man groaned in displeasure, swatting at him before he slumped down into his chair, settling his head on Yunho’s shoulder. The blonde shook his head and chuckled, wrapping an arm around his shoulders just until the younger man decided to fully wake up.

"Today is a short day, right? Because of a holiday? Should we go out to eat tonight?" Wooyoung inquired, bouncing in his seat once San sat beside him.

"I heard the seafood restaurant that opened down the block from the company is really fancy~" San grinned, a small spark in his eyes at the idea of visiting the restaurant he’d been eyeballing for months.

The six men finished eating within the hour, filtering out of the room to get dressed.

-

"I still need a few more drafts from some of you before we can start the next part of the project. Please turn them into me or Secretary Park before the end of the week so we can review it."

The six men nodded, watching as Hongjoong went over the drafts that were already turned in. Seonghwa stood off to the side, his hands behind his back and his posture perfect.

Yeosang couldn't take his eyes off him.

Yes, they had all universally agreed amongst their group that the new boss was unbelievably hot, but the man always found himself enamored with Seonghwa and-

And he's been staring at him for way too long. The raven secretary's sharp eyes snap downward to meet his dreamy gaze and Yeosang tensed, his eyes growing at the single brow Seonghwa arched at him.

God, he's gonna get in trouble. Seonghwa's gonna call him out for his daydreaming and he's gonna look like a fool.

Despite his panicking internally, Yeosang can't take his eyes off of Seonghwa. The taller man's lips quirk ever so slightly and Yeosang's heart stuttered as he simply tilted his head back towards Hongjoong-who was still in the middle of talking about their plans.

' Focus .' Seonghwa mouthed, and Yeosang would be lying if it didn't send heat running up and down his spine.

Sinking into his chair slightly, he quickly turned his attention back to Hongjoong, trying to subtly adjust himself in his slacks under the table.

At the end of the meeting, Seonghwa places a firm hand on Yeosang's shoulder before he could duck out of the room, drawing a small startled sound from him as he looked up.

"Im sorry," Yeosang apologizes without a second thought, but Seonghwa simply tilts his head to the side, taking in the sight of the flush to his cheeks and the slight tremble of the muscle under his hand.

"Don't apologize to me. I'll email you all a summary of today's meeting. I do, however, suggest you work on your focus, Mr. Kang Yeosang. It'd be a shame if you had to stay after hours to play catchup with Mr. Kim and I, no?"

That was supposed to be scolding, right? Seonghwa is supposed to be insulting him in his cool usual manner, right?

So why does it feel like an underlying flirtation? Why did the slight change in Seonghwa's tone sound like a growl to him? Why did something so simple make him want to fall to his knees for the tall secretary?

"Do you understand, Yeosang?" Seonghwa's voice and a gentle squeeze of his shoulder breaks him out of his horny, panicked trance and he nods much faster than intended.

"Y-yes, Seonghwa. I-I'll be going now." He bowed and hurried away, his heart in his throat.

Had he have been calmer, he would have noticed Seonghwa calling him by his first name in a sultry purr.

-

Jongho frowned, patting around his desk as he looked for his binder. His draft was almost done- definitely the biggest of the group's-but he couldn't find it anywhere on his desk.

He had gotten swamped with work when he came back to his department and hadn't realized it was missing until nearly three hours later. Most of the office was empty since it was lunchtime and two hours before they were to leave early

Sighing, the young worker slid out of his desk, rolling his stiff shoulders as he made his way back to Hongjoong's office. He'd stopped by after their meeting to let the CEO know he was almost finished and when he did, he had to have set the damn thing down and left it.

Sighing, he pinched the bridge of his nose, walking into the first area of Hongjoong's office, where Seonghwa's desk was. He smiled when he noticed the binder on the table, excitedly reaching for it. He'd tell Seonghwa later he stopped by and thank him for leaving it out-

" Fuck-"

Jongho paused, his fingers hovering over the binder as he heard the sound of skin on skin.

Curious, he left his binder, looking over to the door to Hongjoong's office. What was he doing in there? Didn't he usually leave for lunch?

Jongho walked to the door, leaning in closer to hear what was going on. If the CEO was in trouble or fighting, certainly he had to step in and help-

"You're exceptionally loud today, sir. We've been a lot more active and yet you're still insatiable."

Jongho blinked. Seonghwa?

"T-this is all your fault, Hwa." Hongjoong groaned, and Jongho immediately noted it didn't sound at all like they were fighting. There was a steady, hard sound of skin against skin and the telltale sound of the wood of Hongjoong's desk creaking.

Jongho's face flushed when it clicked. He wasn't supposed to be here, he had to leave-

"I want to see the look on their faces one day as they watch you melt in pleasure, Hongjoong. I'd love to see how the six of them react to you giving into desire."

Six. Six of them? Jongho felt his heart stop for a moment. No, no he didn't mean them, right?

"I caught little Yeosang staring at me during our meeting, too. Think of how beautiful he'd look splayed out for the others, fucked out of his mind. Almost like you, Joong."

Jongho swallowed thickly. He hesitantly reached for the door handle, pulling it open despite himself to peek inside. This had to have been some kind of dream.

When he looked inside, he felt his cock fully harden, his lips parting as he watched Seonghwa rock into Hongjoong, their CEO's back arched up off his desk as Seonghwa snapped his hips forward, pressing his palms to either side of his head as they fucked.

"S-Seonghwa, please-"

"Which do you want more? Them to fuck you or you to fuck them, sir?" He teased, stealing a sloppy kiss from Hongjoong. The younger man whined against his lips, his nails dragging down Seonghwa's back.

"I can't, you're gonna drive me c-crazy-"

"Answer me, Joong."

"B-both! Fuck!"

Jongho watched, entranced as Seonghwa licked his lips, satisfied as he thrusted wildly into him. He purred sweet nothings to Hongjoong as they fucked, from things with them to wild fantasies about each and every one of the members of the project.

"-Jongho's been working so hard to impress you, Joongie. Don't you think you should reward our maknae with your cock?" Seonghwa teased, knowing Hongjoong was much too close to respond.

Jongho bit his lip, brows pinched up as he thought of their CEO fucking his face, purring praises to him for all of his work. Or even being in Seonghwa's place, thrusting into the tight heat of their boss-

Jongho snapped out of it, quietly closing the door as he darted out of the room. He completely abandoned the binder as he slid into the bathroom, splashing cold water on his face as he tried to will his hard on away.

"What...what the fuck was that?" He panted, looking into his reflection as he held the sink with a tight knuckled grip.

-

"We really shouldn’t be doing this, we could get caught.”

“Do you want to stop?”

“Nah.”

Wooyoung grinned as Mingi’s lips found their way back onto his, kissing and nipping at them as they fell back onto the conference room table. The two had finished their work well over an hour ago and snuck away into an empty conference room to fool around while they waited for the others.

Wooyoung ran his hand up the expanse of Mingi’s stomach, purring as he felt the rippling muscle underneath his button up shirt. Mingi hummed in appreciation, kissing down Wooyoung’s neck as he rolled his hips down, smiling at the sharp inhale that came from the smaller man.

He repeated the notion, fumbling with Wooyoung’s belt as the smaller man covered his mouth, stifling the whines that let his lips. Normally Mingi would snatch his hands away, pin them high above his head to keep him from quieting down, but they didn’t want to get caught, so he let him slide just this once.

In a flurry of shuffling belts and nearly ripped button ups, the men were back at each others lips, with Mingi wrapping his large hand around both of their cocks so they could thrust against one another. Wooyoung’s thrusts got more desperate as he rutted against Mingi, the friction drawing him close.

“Mingi, I’m gonna c-cum!” Woo whimpered, dragging his nails down Mingi’s abs.

Mingi nodded, about to tell them how close he was too when the door opened.

They froze, heart in their lungs as they looked over to the door, finding Hongjoong and Seonghwa staring at them in surprise.

“O-Oh my fucking god-”

Hongjoong’s eyes drifted down their body, humming when he noticed their still hard cocks-ready to burst-in Mingi’s hand. He cleared his throat and rolled the keyring in his hand around his finger.

“I’m going to go check and lock the other conference rooms. Seonghwa will make sure no one else interrupts.” He turned on his heel and left the two semi nude and embarrassed men with his secretary, who very obviously had a smirk playing on his lips.

God, that shouldn’t have made their blood rush as much as it did.

Mingi weakly spoke up, trying feebly to use his body to cover Wooyoung.

“S-seonghwa, we-”

“Ten minutes. You have ten minutes to handle your business before Hongjoong and I come back and we have to make you leave. Before you ask, no, you’re not getting fired. We’ll just keep this between us, hm?” He licked his lips ever so slightly and sent them a smile that made their heart lurch.

They have...literally never seen Seonghwa smile before. Also, what the fuck was that lip lick?!

Having said all he needed to, Seonghwa closed the door behind them, leaving the two alone once more.

Mingi looked down as Wooyoung let his head thump against the desk, biting his lip. He was still hard as he covered his face, his heart racing.

“What the fuck was that? Did you see the way they looked at us, I-”

Mingi hummed and put his lips back against Wooyoung’s neck, the slight tremble in them betraying how terrified and aroused the older man felt as well.

“They’re letting us do it, so we might as well finish.” He whispered, kissing Wooyoung to keep him quiet as he resumed his pace, more desperate than before. They closed their eyes, and both of them would be lying if they didn’t envision Seonghwa and Hongjoong still in the room, watching them with hungry gazes as they needily came minutes later.

“We have to hurry.” Mingi urged Wooyoung, licking his hands despite the flush on the smaller man’s face as he tucked himself back into his pants. Woo whined, slapping his cheeks to calm himself down as he helped Mingi button his shirt back up.

Hesitantly, they stepped out of the room, bowing deeply when they noticed Hongjoong had returned, talking about something with Seonghwa that immediately halted when the two emerged.

“We are so sorry, this doesn’t happen often. T-this was my idea, please don’t punish Mingi.” Woo begged, keeping his eyes tightly closed as he bowed deeply. Mingi nudged him hard, shaking his head.

“I’m older, I should have thought this through, please don’t-”

“No one is getting punished.”

They looked up as Hongjoong moved to stand in front of them, lifting Wooyoung’s chin until he could look him in the eyes. The younger man’s knees nearly buckled as he noted the sweltering heat of Hongjoong’s gaze. He felt like a mouse, small and trapped in a cat’s grasp as his CEO tilted his head ever so slightly, his tongue peeking out between his teeth as he thought of what to say.

“You’re just lucky it was us. It could’ve been messy if it was someone else, no? The office is closed now for the holiday. You two should head out, okay? I’ll be seeing you Monday morning. Enjoy your weekend.” Hongjoong let him go and sent Mingi a half lidded look that made the taller man straighten up and bite his lip before he stuck his hands in his pockets, strolling past them with his chin up.

Seonghwa’s eyes followed their boss before he looked at the two younger workers, a small chuckle leaving his lips before he followed close behind. Wooyoung grabbed Mingi’s wrist, darting down the hall at the speed of light to the bathroom to wash their hands and splash cold water on their faces.

-

As soon as Seonghwa and Hongjoong stepped into the latter’s car, Hongjoong let out a harsh breath, letting his head rest back on the head rest as he ran a hand through his hair. Seonghwa sat quietly beside him, eyes closed and lips curled up into a knowing smirk. He could practically feel the arousal rolling off Hongjoong in waves as he grit his teeth.

3...2...1-

“Seonghwa.”

“Yes, sir?”

“As soon as we get home, I want you on your hands and knees for me.”

Seonghwa purred and cracked his eyes open as the car started, pulling out of the company lot much faster than any vehicle ever should. He didn’t mind, if the way he reached over to palm Hongjoong’s cock was anything to go by.

“Will do, sir. Let’s keep you riled up until then, shall we?”

-

“And then they just let us fucking go.”

Wooyoung finished, cheeks red as he shoveled rice into his mouth to hide his embarrassment. Mingi wasn’t much better, unable to look up from the seafood hotpot situated on the table between the six of them.

“You two started fucking in the confrence room?” Yunho whispered, brows going up in surprise. San burst out into laughter as Wooyoung let out an incredulous gasp.

“NO! We just..we…”

“Started rutting against each other like a bunch of teens and got caught by the boss and Seonghwa.” Yeosang finished, snickering as Wooyoung sunk in his seat, face beet red.

“No, but you should’ve seen the looks on their faces! I think...I think they were into it…” Mingi muttered quietly, biting his lip as he remembered the heated looks that came from both of them. Yeosang’s laughing quieted down as he put his finger on his chin.

“I think..I think I know what you mean. I was zoned out this morning during our meeting and I kept staring at Seonghwa and he noticed...and the way he talked to me afterwards sent shivers down my spine. I’m sure he was scolding me but…” He trailed off, hiding his face as he remembered the man’s tone of voice.

“ Oh, so now everyone sees what I meant by eye contact and tones, right?! I told you before and you made fun of me!” San complained, on his second bottle of soju as his eyes narrowed at the three. Yunho frowned, crossing his arms as a pout formed on his lips.

“No fair, I want eye contact, too.” He mused, ignoring the whines coming from the table.

At the end of the table, Jongho ate quietly, his mind racing a mile a minute. He didn’t bring it up to his hyungs, but he couldn’t get his mind off of the scene before him.

Hongjoong laid out on his desk. Seonghwa fucking him. Both of them mentioning the six of them in such an...intimate and hungry way.

The youngest wasn’t sure how he could bring it up to them, so instead he shifted in his seat, adjusting the ever growing hard on in his pants as he ate quietly.

#fie writes #ksmutclub #kwritersworldnet #atzinc #ateez writing network #night shift #ateez fanfic #ateez smut #ot8 smut #hongjoong smut #seonghwa smut #yunho smut #yeosang smut #san smut #wooyoung smut #mingi smut #jongho smut

[halowastaken]

Why I Left (chapter 6)

read it on ao3!

Summary:

Deep inside of him he hoped that If Mr. Stark ever finds out he won't hate him and he will help him, but that wasn't possible. Mr. Stark was the good guy and as ex-good-guy Peter knows that the good guy's work was to get rid of the bad guy, and Peter wasn’t ready for that. Tony cared about him. It would destroy him. It’s almost been a month of this secret. A full month of pain that Peter has to go through daily.

---

When Peter woke up he felt better. He actually didn't feel like dying for the first time ever since May died. That morning Peter decided that he was gonna tell Tony.

For Peter's surprise, Tony wasn't in the kitchen when he got out of his room. When he asked FRIDAY where he was, she answered 'the lab' which was unusual because, well, it’s FRIDAY. That confused Peter. Tony stopped a while ago staying all night in the lab.

Peter took the elevator and when the door opened he was even more confused. Tony was reading a paper. Tony never uses paper. He thinks that it is dumb given that you can't go two meters and don't find a tablet or phone in his household. But he was reading papers. And using a pencil. Not a pen. A pencil

"Who are you and where is Mr. Stark?" Is the only thing that comes out of Peter's mouth. Tony looks up and raises an eyebrow

"Well. You got me. I am an alien for another galaxy and Tony is on my native planet. What gave away my identity?" Tony says jokingly

"The paper? I thought you didn't use those anymore" Peter said and Tony rolled his eyes

"I know. This, my friend, is the final draft of the Sokovia Accords. They told me to give it a final look before making them official and told me to use a pencil if I wanted to annotate something" Peter's jaw dropped in disbelief

"Hey that's my job! You usually let me do that! Not fair! I like correcting older people!"

"Yeah ok but this is, like, the final thing. As in 'official final super important' thing. That and also last time you made all of your notes with a pen" Peter scoffed

"It's not like they don't have millions of copies"

"It was a glitter pen!"

"I had nothing else at the moment! And it looked good!" Tony gets back to the paper

"Tell that to everyone in the UN. Imagine me trying to explain why did Tony Stark used purple glitter pen in the accords" Peter raises an eyebrow

"The pen was yours"

"So? You have glitter pens too and use them on a regular basis. Mind your own business"

"Whatever. What have you written?" Tony sighs

"So far so good. This changes are good" Peter sits next to him

"You do notice that it's literally the original document but they just clarified a bunch of unnecessary stuff and they explain everything as if they were trying to explain it to a nine year old?"

"Yep. It's on purpose. We need the guys that think like nine year olds to understand that the accords are the best for all of us" Peter rolls his eyes "Don't get sassy. You know that the world needs those guys even if you don't like them"

"The world seems doing pretty well without them. We should just try to reach Thor and Dr. Banner. They're the good guys. And I know that King T'Challa wouldn't mind being an Avenger"

"You did" Peter's jaw dropped

"Don't make this about me! I am being serious! There are so many people qualified for the job and yet you want to stick with the ones that don't deserve it!" Tony's look changes a bit

"Listen, kid. The past is in the past. I don't like them either. However even I am willing to sacrifice my ego for the greater good. The world needs them" Tony says more seriously. Peter just crosses his arms and Tony ruffles his curls "It's not like you're gonna meet them. Actually you're not gonna do that. I forbid you to do that. I don't trust them and I don't want you with them"

"That's great because I don't want to be with them either. I don't want to hurt anyone" Tony slowly turns to see him and then gets back to work. It's time for Peter to tell him "The reason I came here is because I have to tell you something and-"

"Hey by the way, is there any chance that you can stay the weekends like always? If Rhodey is gone and Pepper is working It gets lonely in here" Peter sighed

"Not anytime soon. I'll let you know if that changes"

"At what time are you supposed to be in school? I can't drop you off today and you know how Happy is"

"I still got time. I-"

"Kid I know I don't tell you this very often, but I am really proud of you kiddo. Since I've met you you've changed for the better. And I like to think that I changed too maybe? Everyone agrees that I was a mess before you came, including me. I really want you to know that I am glad you are here. And I am sorry if I got you in trouble” Peter’s eyes widened. Well fuck. That complicates things.

“Y-yeah. I am glad I am here too. And don’t worry about me. I am fine” His inside was screaming in pain. He couldn't tell if his asthma was back or it was just a panic attack but he really wished it was just asthma

“God I am glad I left that out of my chest. It was eating my inside” You got to be kidding me “So. What were you gonna tell me?” Well now nothing

“I liked your lasagna” Peter said immediately. Tony smiled and rolled his eyes

“Thanks kiddo. It was my mom’s recipe” Tony said and Peter’s phone rang. He checked who it was. Happy

“Happy is calling. He is probably here already" Peter said disappointed on himself

"Go then. You know how Happy gets" Tony said and then returned to the papers. Peter kept staring for a second. He didn't want to talk about it. Not even to Tony and specifically not now. If Peter tells him every hope that Tony has for him will die leaving him alone. Peter didn't want to be alone again. He wanted his aunt and his uncle and his family back. He wanted to go back in time. But that couldn't happen. That's not physically possible. So Peter didn't have lots of options left. Peter just wanted to end with his suffering, yet he isn't going to do it because that scares him. Because he is a coward. He is the bad guy

That's all he could think of. While he was at school he tried to focus but he couldn't. He couldn't help but think of the 'what ifs' of the situation. He just wanted to be happy. He was happy before. Even though his family was a little dysfunctional, he was happy. Now he just wants to die. His life sucks and it's his own fault.

After school he went out as Spiderman and it was actually a good day for the arachnid. He stopped a bank robbery and a guy that was in a car accident and almost got yeeted (or is it yoted?) over the Brooklyn bridge. Spiderman was the only thing that kept Peter alive. If not what else? It was the best thing going on with his life. He wished it wasn't that way. He wished that Peter Parker was happy too. But most importantly, he wished that Ben won't notice that he is past his curfew.

He snuck back in from the window, but he didn't have his suit on anymore. He decided to take it off before going home. When he got to his room he laid down in his bed and sighted. He was a little worried about Ben now. He needs a new job and all he is doing is staying on the couch drinking. What's up with that? Peter knows damn well Ben and he's not the kinda guy that gets fired in the first place-

"Where the hell have you been?!" Ben yelled, kicking Peter's door. He had the same shirt as two days ago and a bottle of wine in his hand. The image wasn't pretty

"Decathlon practice" That was only half true. He was supposed to be at decathlon practice but he skipped it

"For two fucking days?! Do you think I am an idiot?!" Peter raises an eyebrow

"You told me I could stay on Thursdays at Tony's! I was there!" Ben scoffs

"I didn't say shit! Stop lying to my fucking face!" Before Peter could answer Ben slapped him. Ben slapped him "I've had enough of your bullshit! Don't you think you've done enough?!" Peter was in shock. He didn't know how to react. That was the last thing Peter expected "God you're such a pain in the ass" Then he left the room and closed the door as loud as he could while he was doing it.

Peter just stared at the door with tears in his eyes. He knew that he deserved it. He deserved hell. He was the bad guy.

He is the bad guy

I am the bad guy

It's all my fault

I should just die already

I am the bad guy

---

It kept going.

What once was only a slap in the face turned into beating.

Peter was sure that Ben was gonna kill him, but he didn't actually care.

As a matter of fact Ben would do a favor to the world if he finally kills him.

And the days with Tony were the worst.

He had to keep all his scars hidden for his own sake because Peter was a murderer.

His way of dealing with it was that he would just lock himself in his side of the lab with his soundproof headphones and start coding. Yeah that's something he does now. He codes like a boss. Tony Stark level coding and all of that. He got into it right after May died.

Nobody has noticed something is going on. Peter found May's old makeup bag and his concealer techniques were good. But it wasn't Mr. Stark's fault. He didn't want him to know anyways, right? That wasn't something that Peter wanted

Right?

Deep inside of him he hoped that If Mr. Stark ever finds out he won't hate him and he will help him, but that wasn't possible. Mr. Stark was the good guy and as ex-good-guy Peter knows that the good guy's work was to get rid of the bad guy, and Peter wasn’t ready for that. Tony cared about him. It would destroy him.

It’s almost been a month of this secret.

A full month of pain that Peter has to go through daily.

But it was fine. Peter deserved it. He was the bad guy and that is what bad guys deserve

“We’re running out of food” Peter says thinking out loud while checking the fridge. Ben wasn’t home yet so Peter took the opportunity to get out of his room for just five minutes. And as a matter of fact they were running out of food. Ben stopped going grocery shopping weeks ago (Now he just goes alcohol shopping and calls that ‘groceries’). Ben also hasn’t got a job so the money is another issue. Everything they had is going to every bottle Ben buys. Peter really has to figure out what to do because they also have to pay rent, and taxes, and go buy some decent food, and all of that, and Ben doesn’t seem to care enough anymore.

“What the hell are you doing?” Peter’s eyes widened as he turned around. He did feel his spider senses going off but he totally ignored it. He didn’t realize Ben arrived. Before Peter could answer Ben already started the shitshow “It's your fucking fault!” He yelled and kicked Peter in the stomach; it made Peter gag. There was nothing there and it hurt more. “She’s gone because of you ! You were supposed to die and she died for you! You don’t give a damn about it though, because you’re a selfish little prick who don’t deserve to live! She was everything to me and you took her away. That’s all you do, is take and take and take and you never stop!” Ben yelled, kicking him and bringing him up to slam him in the wall. The words hurt more though and he started to cry. He could take a beating, but Ben's words hurt more than anything.

And the thing was he was right. Peter could’ve saved her. May would be alive and they’d be happy and everything would’ve been okay if he just hadn’t froze. Ben said other things but Peter had a ringing in his ear blocking everything out “Go to your goddamn room! I am tired of your fucking face!” Peter immediately got up as he could and ran to his room to then lock himself in. He looked at himself in the mirror and tried to stop crying but he couldn’t. In times like this he really wishes he was Spiderman and not Peter. Spiderman is a superhero that doesn’t fear anything. Peter is just human. He bleeds when he falls down, and he crashes and breaks down.

Ben’s words in his head were like knives in the heart. It was like he built Peter up and then made sure he falls apart, but he is only human. But he is the bad guy. He is the villain of the story. The guy that children fear. He was a monster. The least he deserved is to be treated like a normal person. But god did it hurt. That night Peter tries to clear his mind coding in his laptop. A drone design. Something basic but fun. While he was doing that he got a call. It was painful to answer

“Hey Tony” Peter said with his fake happy voice

“Care to tell me why the hell are you not here?” Tony says more jokingly than mad

“What do you mean?” Peter asks confused

“Oh my god. Parker how dare you? I thought that we had something special!” Peter raised an eyebrow and Tony scoffed “It’s Thursday. Why are you not here?” Peter’s eyes widened. Holy shit he forgot about Tony

“I had to pick something up from the department. I am on my way” Peter lies immediately and Tony just laughs

“It’s fine if you forgot. If you still want to come just tell me when you get here” Peter rolled his eyes

“No can do. I like surprises and you know that. I’ll swing by eventually” Peter said and then hung up. He immediately put everything that he wanted to bring in his backpack and put on the suit. Minutes later the Spiderman was swinging towards the Stark tower.

The fact that he went to spend the night with Tony doesn’t mean he forgets.

He is the bad guy.

He is the bad guy.

#fanfic #rad on ao3 #team ironman #ironman #peter parker #tony stark #peter parker and tony stark #peter needs a hug #peter parker and tony stark fanfic #Marvel MCU #marvel #pepper potts #happy hogan #ben parker #may parker #violence #child abuse #i killed her #MCU Spiderman #spiderman #spidey #spiderson #irondad #irondad and spiderson #pepperony

[pazvizslaplasmathrower]

A Father’s Duty - Chapter 43

Chapter 43: Lost Words

Read here or on AO3

Chapter summary: You find yourself visiting a familiar village from your past and someone who used to be a friend, though something intense disrupts your senses.

Word Count: 1714

Your Mandalorian was lightly asleep when you woke, rising along with the Stewjoni sun. Rather easily, you slipped out of his grip, shaking off sand that had stuck to your skin. Glancing back at the ship it seemed Paz Vizsla and your baby brother were still resting as well. Feeling your stomach twist and turn with hunger, you decided to go and catch yourself some breakfast. Diving into the water, your body assimilated itself to the new environment; you had about half an hour before you would need to come up for air.

 The strain on your eyes was significant, though it wasn’t that much worse than the quality on land. It didn’t take long for you to snatch a poor fish with one hand and head back to the surface in record time. From the beach you could hear the Mandalorian call your name, perhaps waving for you to come back. Holding the fish in between your sharp teeth, you dove under swiftly swimming back to your father.

 “What the hell do you have?”

 Glancing down at the fish you couldn’t really tell, so taste was in order. Taking a small bite, you pondered for a moment.

 “Hm, I think it’s just a Stewjoni sea bass.” Taking another bite, memories came back of fetching your own meals when your mother was more often than not unavailable.

 You could feel Mando’s eyes son you in mild worry as he led you by hand back to the crest, but as your stomach was being filled, you paid it no mind.

 ***___***___***

 “There’s a small town about a mile from here.” Din informed his group. Scrolling through his datapad, the nearby settlement seemed benign enough.  “Aritia…My child, have you heard of that prefecture?”

 From their seat on the floor with the baby in their lap, his eldest was occupied feeding the littlest pieces of the fish they had snatched from the sea. Willing to trust them further, Din had even gone so far as to give them a small knife as to properly eat the meat and not to keep on tearing it apart with their teeth.

 “Yeah actually!” Their ears perked up as they smoothly filleted the meat of the bass. “I used to travel there on weekends to help the fishermen out.”

 Din watched as Beviin handed the little one another bit of food which he seized with his little claws and shoved it promptly in his mouth.

 “So, a fishing village.” Paz continued. “Would you know the way from where we are now?”

 Beviin paused for a moment before nodding. “Well, not exactly…But I remember the smell so I can follow that! From here I think it would take about a day or so walking.”

 “Little one, I have mastered rising phoenix. That should cut any travel time significantly.”

 Underneath his helmet Din fumed. While Paz Vizsla was certainly more seasoned with his own equipment, that didn’t mean he had to be so openly proud about his talents. All it did was add to his already overwhelming ego, not to mention it made Beviin look up at the damn man with blind wonder.

 His clan and Paz readied themselves quickly, packing what little they had for the small venture. Paz had insisted he was better suited to carry Beviin, after all he had his rising phoenix longer. It didn’t bother Din the least bit, for the baby was light in his arms and would probably move around less. But much to his dismay, he was still securing the green baby into his carrier as Paz Vizsla and his eldest took off into the sky, their face full of joy.

 “LOOK! BUIR, I’M FLYING!!!” They cried out, their hair whipping around their face.

 ***___***___***

 The novelty of flying wore off rather quickly, fear of slipping and plummeting to the ground consuming you. The image was nearly impossible to expunge, falling aimlessly through the sky and smashing flat onto the earth. Your hands gripped the edges of Paz Vizsla’s blue Beskar, legs pressing against the sides of his torso, face pressed on his back.

 “Keep heading north! We’re getting super close!”

 Paz had been right in slashing the travel time. It hadn’t taken very long for you to feel the strong draft of the descent back to the ground. When you heard Paz’s boots hit the ground, it was safe to jump off his back and landed on the grass. Still lagging behind, you could see your Mandalorian flying a bit raggedly through the air. His landing was certainly lackluster, though quite…startling. As he nearly fell over, you could feel the baby’s panic rise and fall. Coming over to where you and Paz stood, the Mandalorian seemed to sulk, prompting Paz Vizsla to clap him on the back hard enough to send him lurching forward.

 “With time your use of rising phoenix will improve. Worry not! If you need an example, just follow mine next time!” Paz said lightly.

 Starting to sense tensions rising, you trotted ahead, anxious to see how much had actually left since you had left Stewjon. While the two men bickered in the back, you wandered ahead to where actual civilization started, and the grass finally ended. That familiar scent of salt mixed fondly with the hot steam which powered the entire village. The wooden houses that were scattered about seemed roughly the same, though there were no familiar faces to be seen. Sparing a look behind, you could see both Mandalorians had started a full-blown argument, each getting into the other’s personal space. Perhaps it would be best to remove yourself from the blooming anxiety.

 All eyes seemed to fall upon your pack, even when you distanced yourself from them, villagers often stared at you in confusion. It must have been the kriffing armor. In truth you preferred to wear what was minimal to ensure you were comfortable, but Mando was having none of those reasons. Instead he insisted on more informing you it was best to be protected as much as possible, the constant wearing of it would only enhance your strength. His reasons were far greater than your own, but that did not mean they were any less annoying. With each set of eyes that followed your tentative gait, you felt like casting the shining armor away, it made you stick out like a Naboo senator in a Tatooine Cantina.

 Steeling your mind, you pressed forward, intent of seeking out someone familiar. Following the same dirt path, you had years ago, you soon saw the familiar vista looking out upon the ocean. Quickening your pace, you could see the bay where all the fishmongers docked their simple boats and sold first pick of their morning catches to early risers. Though now in the early afternoon, there were hardly any souls about, except for one boat docked at the furthest corner of the bay, was that ever-recognizable canoe, usually so small among the other schooners, though all alone like this it seemed even smaller. That strong figure hunched over on the dock radiated a sense of exhaustion that surpassed even that of the Mandalorian, it was far more intense than you remembered. Approaching the figure, you fought the urge to run back to the group.

 “H-Hello…” The hollowness of your voice shocked yourself.

 The figure tensed, hands stopping their netting work immediately. Not wanting to think about what was going on the other’s head, you counted the passing seconds, hoping for a response. Instead, that familiar strength once used to save your small form from crashing waves fell upon you with such ferocity you cried out. Weathered hands seized your neck with urgent fervor, pressing harder against your windpipe.

 Your eyes bulged, tears bursting forth. “KITA! IT’S ME! IT’S ME!”

 Desperately you searched those familiar blue eyes for some sign of recognition, and to your horror, it was there, and she pressed even harder. You started thrashing about, loosening her grip only lightly, one hand trying to pry hers off, the other yanking at her grey hair.

 “Kita!” You choked and sputtered. “P-Please!”

 “You! You kriffing womprat! You should never have come back! Never!” She lifted your body up before slamming it back on the dock.

 Stunned, you lay still, allowing your old friend to land a hit squarely to your face. What the hell had happened? Everything had seemingly been perfect for everyone else when your mother cast you out. The Empire was still in its infancy, but you had done nothing but left. What had happened to your old friend? The only one who bothered to care when the village children teased and made fun of you. The one who fed you warm, steady meals in exchange for working crew on their small boat. Honestly, all you had done was catch fish, more often than not eating them in the process. Kita had been warm, quiet, but fond of your presence. None of that was here now.

 Her form loomed over once more and you braced yourself for impact, but it never came. Instead the sound of a blaster went off, hitting Kita in the shoulder.

Groaning out, you already knew who it was. Nevertheless, your first concern was your old friend. “No…”

 “AD’IKA!” You could hear your father bellow.

 “Buir…” Sitting up, you could see him rush forward, shoving Kita’s injured form out of the way, not far behind was Paz Vizsla, who seized the woman by the back of her shirt. “No! Don’t hurt her!”

 Mando’s gloves softly grazed against the skin of your throat, observing the blossoming red marks with tense anger. “Don’t talk.” He ordered. “Your windpipe was almost crushed…”

 Sensing Paz was close to doing something rash, you begged him to let Kita go. “Please! I know her! She’s my friend!”

 “Is that why she tried to kill you?” He asked curtly. At your silence, he tilted his head to regard the current enemy. “You are so fortunate to be in the presence of these children for they are the only reason that I do not kill you right now.”

 “That,” Kita spat, pointing to you, “is no child. That thing is a curse, bringing Imperials around here!”

 So venomous were her words, you felt yourself lean onto the Mandalorian for strength.

#sw #star wars #star wars saga #the mandalorian #the mandolarian #the mandalorian fic #the mandolorian #the force #the child #A Father's Duty #the mandalorian x y/n #parental relationship #Pedro Pascal #fic #fiction #fanfic #star wars fanfic #sw fic #sw fiction #star wars fanfiction

[erekiosuncreativeideas]

Reliving An Old Nightmare - Chapter 9

<= Chapter 8

Summary : Snatcher learns more about his current situation, featuring an insolent brat. Also available on AO3 : https://archiveofourown.org/works/22337299/chapters/54869914

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Hello! Here's the ninth chapter! First of all, a huge "thank you" to Krekka01, who corrected it!

I hope you'll like it, and I can't wait to publish the next chapter already! (I still have to write it first, ahaha)

Happy reading!

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Chapter 9:

Snatcher had always found teleportation to be one of the easiest ways of moving around his forest. It had been one of his many powers as a ghost, though he had had to eat a few dozen souls before he could use it; however, teleporting as a human, using the kid’s alien technology, was very much different. First, it wasn’t as “fast” as his own method, since he had the time to feel his body moving very quickly in an empty space, yet without the usual draft caused by the movement. Second… it was an extremely awful sensation, contrary to his own teleportation technique.

As soon as the transportation ended, his body violently hit the floor, leaving him lying down on something soft, eyes shut. His mind was hazy from the sudden shock while a wave of pain engulfed him. Why did he have to suffer so much? Hadn’t he had enough already? With his injured hand and legs, it was-

The spirit stopped thinking immediately as a horrible thought came to his mind: he couldn’t feel his legs anymore!

-“Snatcher!” The child’s voice broke the silence and helped him to clear his fuzzy consciousness. Alarmed by his lack of sensations in his lower half, the shade slowly opened his eyes. A groan left his lips; he felt like someone was hammering his brain, again and again and again. His vision was blurry and the room was dark, yet he could still perceive the brat’s silhouette next to him.

-“Snatcher, are you okay?” she asked again, in a much more anxious tone. Her loud voice intensified his headache and he raised his right hand to silence her.

-“Yeah, yeah, shut up, I’m still alive...” He managed to keep an “unfortunately” to himself, even if it would have been pretty funny to say, considering his own situation. However, his entire body froze as he caught sight of his hand. It was purple… Just like his old one, the one he used to have when he was dead.

Ignoring the sharp pain, he straightened up and took a better look at himself: he was no longer in his old human body! He lowered his head; no wonder he couldn’t feel his legs anymore! He didn’t have any at the moment! Just the old purple tail, like usual.

The spirit couldn’t help but laugh at the thought: as if things had been usual lately! But, finally, he was back in his old spectral form.

-“Oh, thank God,” he said, both groaning and sighing at the same time, more than relieved. He tried to float again, moving his tail at the same time but stopped immediately when he felt something unpleasant. It… hurt.

“What the…?” he thought, confused. He tried to move his tail again, only to wince when the pain increased from the movement. Ghosts weren’t supposed to feel pain! Yet, here he was, clenching his spectral teeth. What was happening? Next to him, the kid was watching him silently, probably oblivious to what was going on in his mind. But then, his vision cleared up.

They were in the child’s spaceship, in the main room more precisely. The room was dark, only illuminated by a single screen. Now that he had regained his spectral body, he could see things perfectly, even in a poorly lit room. The ghost examined his surroundings: the floor was covered in shards, all coming from broken screens. When he first came into her spaceship (back when he made her sign the death wish contracts), he had always seen them on, showing things in a language he couldn’t understand. Now, they were all broken, except for one of them, which was the only thing preventing the room from being pitch-black. But the screens weren’t the only damaged things. Most of the glass balls on the mezzanine were shattered as well, and the green ladder had fallen to the floor. The doors were off, not displaying the usual lit drawings. The instrument panel was damaged, too, and one of its pipes had detached from it, hanging on the side from where it was supposed to fit. All the indicator lights were off, just like the panel in itself, more generally. A burnt smell emanated from it, a clear indicator of it malfunctioning.

And regarding what was outside of the spaceship… it was only a pure black void, nothing like the space he had been able to see through the window pane before. There were no more stars, no more visible planets… Just nothing. Snatcher couldn’t help but feel intimidated by it.

-“Hey, kid,” he started, still looking around them, “you threw a party here or what?”

The child snorted, while her face softened, leaving most of her worry behind.

-“Pff, no,” she replied with a small laugh, before continuing with a more serious tone. “Well, it’s because of the Time Rift. This one is much more powerful than the usual ones, and it’s a little too powerful for my ship.”

The ghost turned to the girl, staring at her with a perplexed look.

-“What do you mean ‘it’s too powerful’?”

-“Well…” Her eyes fell to the ground as a wince appeared on her face. It was enough to tell Snatcher that whatever she was going to say wouldn’t be good for both of them.

-“Remember when I told you someone had used a Time Piece to create this pocket dimension? Well, it’s not supposed to happen. There have been theories about that, back on my home planet, but no one had ever actually managed to create anything like this. My ship isn’t made for that kind of situation.” She pointed to the broken control panel and continued. “I was in space when it happened. I was able to enter the Void before the Rift closed itself, but not without breaking things in the process.”

It was a little too complicated for the spirit to understand. While he could learn and recite entire law books, this was a bit too abstract for him. He had been stuck for years in his forest, far from any technologies other than what he had seen from his victims. It was no wonder he had trouble understanding what she was saying, even though he could grasp the main ideas most of the time.

-“So…” he replied, gesturing to the window, “The Void? That’s where we are?”

-“Yeah. It’s a little hard to explain, but…” She was about to continue but interrupted herself as she seemed to realize something. “Wait, what about your hand?”

The ghost simply laughed at her.

-“Kiddo, I’m a ghost again. Spirits can’t be hurt,” he said, omitting an “only in very specific situations”.

-“Are you sure?” The ghost didn’t get the time to answer as she came closer and took his left hand in hers to examine it. In any other situation, Snatcher would have smacked her hands away, telling her that she must be dense to insist that much; however, as soon as the child touched his hand, a pained cry escaped his ghostly lips.

-“Ouch! Ouch, ouch!” The brat lifted her head to look at him, surprised by his reaction. But the shade was even more shocked than she was.

Ghosts weren’t supposed to feel pain. And that’s when Snatcher realized that he had been able to feel the softness of the floor, to smell the burnt scent of the damaged control panel. He shouldn’t have been able to. Dead people lost their senses of smell and touch. So, if he was back in his old body, why did he still feel them? Why did he feel pain in his non-existent legs and in his spectral hand? This didn’t make any sense!

-“I thought ghosts didn’t feel pain?” retorted the little girl with a cheeky smile.

-“Oh shut up, will you!” He took his hand back, inspecting it. Just like his human hand, there were red stripes, and his purple skin was bluer than usual. The shade had never seen anything like that, in both his life and afterlife. This wasn’t good. Spirits weren’t supposed to be affected by such injuries. Was his spectral body still linked to his human one? He couldn’t see any other explanation, yet it didn’t make much sense either. Why would his bodies be linked to each other? The ghost had no idea what to think at this point. Time travel had never been something he was good at and it was much worse when it came to space-related subjects.

-“For starters, why am I back in my old body? Aren’t we still in the Time Rift?” he asked, frowning in confusion.

-“It’s…” She grimaced, trying to look for words. “Let’s take care of your hand first, I’ll explain after that.”Snatcher scoffed at her :

-“Take care of my hand? Kid, I’m dead. What exactly do you want to cure?” His tone must have been a little too sarcastic to the hat-wearing brat, as she pressed his hand back into hers, causing the shade to freeze instantly, clenching his teeth not to let any sound come out. He glared at her, though it did little to intimidate her, as she just smiled innocently.

-“You brat…” he grumbled, before giving up, too tired of everything to fight back. “Okay, fine, let’s take care of a hand that shouldn’t need it!”

The kid smiled at him even more and let go of his left hand.

-“Great! Come with me to the kitchen!”

The ghost lowered his eyes to the broken ladder beside them. How was she going to get up there if there was nothing to-

He didn’t get the time to finish that thought as the kid gathered speed and rushed forward. She jumped on the wall and caught the ledge of the mezzanine as if it was nothing. Right, she could do that. How could he have forgotten about her weird abilities? She sure was a strange kid, though he supposed he prefered that rather than a crying and useless one.The little girl turned back to him, gesturing him to follow her:

-“What are you waiting for?”

The ghost simply rolled his eyes and let his body leave the ground, floating higher and higher. The pain intensified in the meantime, but he did his best to ignore it, let alone show it at all. He had had enough of people pitying him like the dumb prince he used to be. It didn’t take him very long to join the kid on top of the mezzanine. She then opened the kitchen door and shifted on the side to let him enter. The room was dark and it was even messier than the last time he had been there. Usually, plates lied around, barely cleaned up. The sink was always full of dishes and the fridge wasn’t even properly closed! But now… plates were shattered on the floor, the contents of all the kitchen cupboards were splattered everywhere, the paintings had all fallen to the floor, and the fridge was completely open. All the lights in the room were off, and the shade could see the broken glass of lamps on the floor. His own face was the only source of light in this pitch-black room.

-“I know you have a problem with cleaning, kiddo,”Snatcher remarked, “but it really seems like a hurricane hit your spaceship.”

-“You’re not very far from the truth, honestly,” Hat Kid replied, smiling sheepishly. “When my ship entered the Void, it was pretty… intense. It shook everything up.”

-“Again with that ‘Void’ thingy?”

-“I’ll explain, I promise! Just…” She took his injured hand again, though much more gently than before. “Come here.”

The hat-wearing brat led him to a wooden crate, one that was in the same place the last time he could remember. She let go of his hand once again, and ran to the sink, trying to open the tap. However, she facepalmed when no water came out of it.

-“Ugh, of course, no power, no water!” Her frustration made Snatcher smile; seeing that was the best thing happening in his day so far. Though, said frustration didn’t linger long on her face, as she seemed to have an illumination. She clapped her hands together and started to look for something in the cupboards, throwing behind her whatever didn’t correspond to what she was searching for. The ghost almost got hit, but quickly avoided the object that was thrown at him. He was about to complain about that but he was cut short as the kid brandished something proudly.

-“Ah-ha!”

It was a bottle of water. The ghost’s confusion increased even more.

-“Uh… You know I don’t need to drink or eat in that form, right?” he questionned, wondering if the child had gone even stupider in the last few minutes passed in his company. She ignored him and picked up something that was lying in one of the corners of the room: a saucepan. The proud look on her face intensified and she smiled even more as she fiercely put the pan on the crate. The shade was just staring at her, trying to understand what she was trying to do, in vain. It was only when the girl filled the saucepan with water that she facepalmed herself once again, this time with both hands, groaning lengthily.

-“What now?” Snatcher couldn’t help but feel more and more annoyed with the present situation. He crossed his arms, careful not to touch the injured part of his left hand.

The girl lowered her hands, looking at him with eyes suddenly full of inspiration.

-“Wait, do you still have your powers by any chance?” she asked.

-“Uh…” That was a very good question, one which he didn’t know the answer yet. “What for?”

The little girl pointed to the saucepan filled with water.

-“If we want to cure your frostbite, or at least make it less painful for you, we have to put your hand in warm water. But since my spaceship has not much power left, I can’t heat up the water. So… I was wondering if you could do that with your powers?”

That… did make sense. Or, at least it did in that extreme nonsense that was their whole situation. He shrugged; he could still try. Though, he couldn’t help but feel a bit anxious; he could feel and smell things, even though he shouldn’t be. What if he still didn’t have his powers? He could float around like before, yes, but that didn’t mean anything. At this point, it was hard to be surprised.

-“I guess?” he answered, unsure.The kid took the saucepan and held it up for him to place his uninjured hand underneath. The shade closed his eyes and tried to produce a little flame. It was one of the easiest things he could do usually, so if he couldn’t do that now… that meant he would truly be defenseless. He tried to focus as much as possible, searching for any source of power still left inside of him. Just when he was about to think there was none left, he felt something. There were still some traces inside. He felt his hand heating up and he reopened his eyes. The room was now illuminated by a purple flame, right between his hand and the saucepan. The kid was staring at it with admiration, before lifting her eyes to meet his.

-“You still have them!” the girl cried out. “That’s amazing!”

The spirit scoffed, looking elsewhere. He wasn’t used to be flattered, and he could feel a mix of unease and pride developing inside of him.

-“Pff, you find that amazing? Wait until we fight again, then you’ll be impressed.”

The little girl giggled,and soon, silence fell between them. A few minutes passed, during which the kid dipped the tip of her fingers in the water to check the temperature. After a while, she nodded and put the saucepan back on the crate, careful not to spill anything.

-“It shouldn’t be too warm. Put your hand inside, I’ll get paper and pencils in the meantime.”

Paper and pencils? What for? As if it was the time for colouring! The hat-wearing kid seemed to see his confusion, however, and added:

-“It’ll make things easier to understand. I mean, I could explain what’s happening in details if you want, but it’s going to be pretty complicated.”

The ghost rolled his eyes, more than exasperated. Well, she was right; all that time travel stuff was too abstract for him to understand, so he supposed that her idea wasn’t as stupid as he first thought.

-“Yeah, okay. Go fetch for your colouring book or whatever.”

The girl then left the room, not before promising to be back as soon as she found them. The shade wondered if she would be able to find them, considering there was no light in the ship, except for that screen in the main room. He supposed there had to be some power left to charge it, but then again, it was something he wasn’t familiar with.

Now left alone with his thoughts, he let his mind wander as his eyes examined the room once again. Even when it was less… messy, he couldn’t help but wonder how the child had managed to survive until now. Every time he had come to her spaceship, he had always thought that if he wasn’t the one to kill her, she would die on her own by her negligence; however, the kid was still very much alive at the moment. Snatcher guessed that she probably had more than one trick up her sleeve. He really hoped that it would be the same for the situation they were in, because they surely needed it. At least, the ghost was back in his spectral form, which made him feel much, much better. In his human body, everything was so foreign, so weird. Now, even if he still felt sensations, he felt much more comfortable. Another good thing was that he still didn’t feel his “afterlife coldness”. After his death, he had always felt cold. When people died, they kept feeling things related to the way they perished, and Snatcher was no exception. Though, at the moment, he felt nothing like that in particular, which was quite a relief. It only reminded him of that moment, spent alone for days, months, years, he didn’t know.

He shook his head. There was no use in thinking about it now. He tried to focus on the warmness around his left hand. At least that was pleasant. He closed his eyes, letting his consciousness rest for a while. It was the first time in days that he could truly rest, and he would be lying if he said that it didn’t feel good. He really needed this.

It continued for a few minutes and then he heard quick footsteps coming in his direction. Snatcher reopened his tired eyes. Well, on the bright side, he did get at least one chance to rest, which was still something.

The door opened abruptly, as the child ran into the room, joining Snatcher as fast as she came in. She was holding something in her arms and put it down violently next to the saucepan, making the crate shake by the sudden shock.

-“Now we can talk!” she said, out of breath, probably because she rushed to come back. She spread out what she had just brought: coloured pencils and white sheets of paper. She then picked something up from the floor, handing it to Snatcher: candles. He lit them up and the kid placed them next to the sheetsSnatcher let out a sarcastic laugh once everything was set up.

-“Well, finally. So, this ‘Void’ thing you keep talking about, what is it?” he asked, leaning against the crate, as the brat took a light blue pencil in her hand. She put the nib down and started to draw, forming a circle on the surface.

-“This is where we are,” she said, writing something in the centre of the circle, in a language Snatcher was unable to read.

-“You know I can’t read what you just wrote, right?” It took several seconds before the kid frowned, realizing her own mistake. She then handed him her pencil.

-“I can’t write in your language. I can only speak it. Write the translation underneath, it says ‘Time Rift’.”

Snatcher stared at the pencil for a while, frowning as well before a scoff left his lips.

-“Kid, I’m left-handed,” he retorted in a mocking laugh, nodding to his hand underwater as he spoke. The kid closed her eyes and took a deep breath, now frustrated again. The ghost grinned at her, enjoying her distress. However, his fun ended when the kid handed the pencil back to him, insisting:

-“Well, try and become right-handed for a few minutes, because I really can’t write as you do.”

Both glared at each other, as a dominance fight started again between them. Unfortunately, Snatcher was still too tired to resist, and eventually took the pencil in his right hand. The object felt foreign in his hand as he tried to find a good posture.

-“One day, I will kill you,” he promised, mumbling in a low tone.

-“I know, I know, you’re my BFF too,” she simply answered, completely unaffected by his threatening promise. The shade put his wrist down on the crate and tried to write what she had just told him, right under what she wrote earlier. The nib shook a bit too much as he did so, since the action as more than weird to him. He still managed to form the words and handed the pencil back to his contractor, not without showing his discontentment, which was fully ignored.

They repeated this process for a few minutes. The kid added a purple circle, which she labelled “Master Timeline”, and wrote “Void” between the two circles. She then linked the two circles by two arrows, one yellow and one red, and added a crude drawing of a Time Piece next to them.

-“There!” said the little girl triumphantly.

The spirit only looked at the drawing with a frown on his face. He didn’t understand a single thing in this diagram.

-“So… do you mind telling me what I’m looking at, exactly?” the shade requested, irate.

-“Do you mind being patient for once?” she retorted, more and more annoyed with him.

She sighed and placed the tip on her pink pencil in the “Master Timeline” circle and started to explain, in a much more serious tone:

-“This is where we were when it happened. It’s the world as we know it, or at least the main reality we were in.”

-“Wait, there are other realities?” asked the ghost in bewilderment.

-“It’s a whole new subject, but yeah. It’s not important for our situation, though. What matters is that someone used a Time Piece to create a new dimension,” she continued, passing the pencil over the yellow arrow several times. “This dimension took the form of a Time Rift, the one you were teleported in. And the reason you’re back as a ghost now is because we’re not inside of it anymore. Following everything so far?”

The shade nodded, doing his best to understand what she was saying. He had to admit that the drawing did help him to grasp the explanations. The hat-wearing girl spoke again, this time pointing the “Void” with the nib of the pencil:

-“Now, you have to imagine that those two dimensions, ours and this one, are parallel to each other. And you have this ‘gap’ between them, as if they were two different things, far, very far from each other. Okay?”

-“And that space in the middle is the ‘Void’”?

-“Yep. It’s like very big and very small at the same time. The laws of physics don’t apply there, so you could make several steps and have moved forward by a mile, just like you could walk for hours for nothing. It’s very different than what we’re used to in our own dimension. But it’s only theories, as the Void would kill anyone spending more than one second inside without protection.”

Snatcher squinted. This was a bit too abstract for him, though he supposed that it wasn’t too important at the moment.

-“The Void is the empty space between all Time Rifts and all realities. Usually, my ship uses… warps in the Void to enter Time Rifts, because it’s way less risky that way. As I said, the laws of physics don’t apply there, and my ship isn’t made to resist those distortions very long, especially when they’re too different from our laws. So it’s better to find passages that are similar to our own reality, so my ship can handle the trip safely. But…” she gestured to the room with a sad look on her face. “As it was an emergency, I had to enter the Void as fast as possible. As you can see, it wasn’t without consequences.”

-“Wouldn’t it have been better to wait for those ‘warps’ you told me about? I mean, if just entering this void-y place caused so many problems for your spaceship…”

-“Well…” Her eyes fell to the floor as she continued. “That would have been the smartest choice, yes. But time isn’t consistent between all dimensions. One second can correspond to a year in another reality, and… we kind of have a countdown problem, too.”

The spirit felt his fear coming back to life, as he saw the child avoiding his eyes, with a worried expression painted on her features.

-“What do you mean by ‘countdown’?” he asked, already afraid of the answer.

The brat remained silent for a few seconds as if she was trying to gather the courage to speak again. Eventually, she pointed out the “Time Rift” circle once again.

-“There are two kinds of Time Rifts. Most of them are stable and don’t cause too many problems. Others, not so much. This one is part of the unstable ones. And…”

-“And?”

She was definitely uncomfortable, and Snatcher’s insistent question surely didn’t help. But, when she found the courage to talk again, Snatcher felt his non-existent heart stop beating and sink into his chest.

-“All unstable Time Rifts are bound to implode after a few days, at least in best-case scenarios. This one is no exception. We have four to five days until the Time Rift collapses, taking everything inside it in the process. The thing is… I can’t fix my ship fast enough. There’s too much damage, and even if we’re not killed by the Rift collapsing, the oxygen reserves of the ship won’t hold very long after that. Though I guess it’s more my problem than yours, since that… you’re already dead, you know.”

Snatcher’s body froze as he tried to process everything, one fact after the other. A feeling of dread settled over him as he slowly realized what the kid was saying.

-“You mean… That we’re stuck here no matter what?” he asked quietly, not wanting to believe that everything was vain from the start. It couldn’t be!

And all that because his ex wanted to live in the past again?! She had just doomed all of them!He was interrupted in his train of thoughts as the kid replied to his question.

-“There is another way out of here.”Those words were enough to catch the ghost’s interest right away, as he straightened up immediately.

-“What is it?”If he had thought the kid was uncomfortable before, now it was very much different. She didn’t seem to know what to do with herself, as she hunched her shoulders, looking everywhere but where Snatcher was. She knew something and it was bad. Even the stupidest person in the world could see that. But what could be worse than either dying with a whole dimension or remain alone in a spaceship with a little girl’s corpse for eternity? Though, the latter would be very appealing in any other situation.

-“What. Is. It?” he pressed, looming over a small body in a way he hoped threatening, even though he knew better.

She took a deep breath and replied quietly.

-“We have to find the Time Piece used to create this dimension. It’s the only way to reverse everything. That’s why I was searching for time anomalies in the first place; since it’s not supposed to be here, anomalies tend to appear near it.”

The ghost felt like this solution was nothing compared to what she had just told him before. That was all they had to do? Piece of cake! However, the look on her face told him there was much to this story than just finding the Time Piece. And, after thinking about it a little, he quickly understood why she was making such a face.

-“Oh God. It’s in there, isn’t it?” he asked with a groan.

The child nodded silently, understanding instantly that he was talking about Subcon Manor.

-“I knew it!” He hit the crate with his fist, pure rage engulfing him entirely: “It’s her, I knew it could only be her!”He clenched his spectral teeth, wanting nothing more than to kill something at the moment. He felt the water heating up around his hand, only to realize he was the one warming it up in the first place. Reluctantly, the spirit tried to calm himself; he didn’t want to burn his own hand since it would probably be affected by it in his physical state. His own magic wouldn’t burn him, but boiling water would.

The hat-wearing brat shook her head.

-“I don’t think Vanessa is the one who used the Time Piece,” she affirmed, yet in an unsure tone, probably more because she feared Snatcher’s reaction to her claims.Said reaction came almost instantly:

-“Are you kidding me?! Of course she did! She’s the only person who could want to use it!”

-“No, what I mean is… I don’t think she even has the knowledge to use it to create a whole dimension. No one on my planet did, and yet we do know how Time Pieces work.”

The shade stopped moving. A feeling of anxiousness settled over him, as he started to understand what his contractor was implying. He stared at her, both bewildered and confused, as he rephrased her assumptions:

-“So you think… someone else is behind all of this?” he questionned, gesturing to everything around them. The little girl shook her head once again, and continued, in the most serious tone the ghost had heard coming from her:

-“I do think she is involved… but I also think she’s not the mastermind in what’s happening.”

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Hehehe, sorry, I ended the chapter on a cliffhanger again! I hope you're still interested in this story! I can't wait to see your theories about the next chapters.

Until then, see you and take care! :)

=> Chapter 10

#A Hat In Time #Reliving An Old Nightmare #RAON #snatcher #hat kid #fanfiction #my art

[solange-lol]

not so typical love song - ch. 1/13

Chapter Title: Rollarcoaster

Words: 3,050

Note: my piece for the @pjo-hoo-bigbang !!! special thanks to @shelbychild and @wisdom-walks-alone for editing and helping me develop this story! it wouldnt exist w/o y’all!

Art by @lizzybizzyo! <3

[ one | two | three | four | five | six | seven | eight (coming soon)]

read on ao3

—

Nico is staring at his computer, wordless. This isn't writer's block or surprise; it’s just the unknown reality of what this situation could lead to.

Another gay kid in his school. Another gay kid that isn’t Mitchell—who’s been out since 8th grade, and the only one to be out since then. Another kid at their school who’s hiding a secret. 

Nico doesn’t even know if this kid is a boy or a girl or what, and frankly, he doesn’t care. There’s another kid like him. And he has no idea how to respond to the post.

The post is a submission from their school’s gossip blog on Tumblr, the notorious ‘hb-secrets.’ Piper had called him an hour ago, asking if he’d seen it yet.

“Seen what?” he had responded.

“The post on hb-secrets? About the closeted gay kid?” It hit Nico like a wall of bricks as he quickly went to pull up the website. Did somebody know? It was a relief when he saw the clipart Ferris wheel and a few short lines submitted by a blog called blue0919.

“I bet it’s that Brazilian sophomore. Paolo or whatever? Or maybe it’s Connor Stoll! I swear he’s been flirting with Mitchell, but Annabeth keeps telling me that he’s into Lacy or someone,” Piper continued as he read, but it was going in one ear and out the other as he processed the words on the screen

Sometimes I feel like I’m stuck on a Ferris wheel. One minute I’m on top of the world, and the next minute I’m at rock bottom. Over and over all day long, because a lot of my life is great. But nobody knows I’m gay.

“Gotta go. I’ll talk later,” Nico said quickly, switching off his phone. He knew it would raise suspicion, but it felt like time was turning in on itself. Nobody knew about Nico. In fact, nobody ever even suspected. He’s never been called names besides “Death Boy.” And yet, there were the exact words that described his life, written out in front of him like they were a second thought.

And now, he was staring at his computer with an empty Gmail draft open. The original poster had left their email at the end of the post, so Nico after glancing quickly at his Panic! at the Disco poster still proudly hanging on his wall, typed out a new address. He was stuck, though, unsure of what to say from here. 

So, he started from the beginning.

From: [email protected]

To: [email protected]

Date: Oct 2 at 6:48 PM

Subject: Hey

Somehow you’ve managed to type exactly what I feel. Sorta scary, as if you’re inside my head or something. Maybe it’s just a gay thing to be speaking in metaphors about the pressure of everyday society.

That’s what I am. Gay. I don’t know if I’ve ever really said it out loud to myself.

It’s weird because I never really had a perfectly normal life. My mom died when I was young, so I never really got to meet her. My sister and I have always been super close until she went away to college. Now, not as much. I guess that’s just what happens when you live a million miles away. 

And I’ve known my stepmom longer than I knew my real mom, but it was only a few years ago when I met my half-sister when she came to live with us because her mom died as well. Meaning, she isn’t the daughter of my stepmom. It’s a long story, and not really one I want to get into.

She’s super nice though. It’s funny, but despite being polar opposites with my older sister, they’re both mushy inside. Same with my stepmom. And my dad… he tries his best. We’re like exactly what you expect from a slightly broken family. Plus my dog who my cousin gave to me during a rough time. Honestly, she’s probably my favorite sibling out of them all. (Both my sisters would kill me if they knew I wrote that.)

And then there are my friends. I have some that are closer than others; Two of them I’ve known for a while now, and one who I only met recently but treats me better than some of the people I’ve known my whole life. While I admit, I’m not the most social person in the world, they’re pretty amazing as far as friends go. 

So there it is. My perfectly normal life. Except for that huge ass secret.

He typed and retyped each line what felt like a thousand times, deleting word after word. He didn't know what was too much. It all felt like too much, really. He didn’t even know if he could trust this person.

Signing it was the worst part; he didn’t have any good pseudonyms. Eventually, he decided to leave it blank.

Without a second thought, Nico hit ‘send’ before leaning back in his chair and putting his hands over his head. Only a second later, a light knock came from the door, causing him to quickly sit up as Hazel popped her head in.

“Dinner’s ready if you wanna eat,” she smiled. She left just as quickly as she came, curls bouncing as she walked away. They had gotten over the awkwardness of having a new sibling only months after Hazel moved in, but there was still some strangeness. To this day, Nico was still a lot closer to her than Bianca was. Either way, Nico knew he would do anything for her. (Not that he would admit that. He didn't even need to, Hazel already knew.)

Nico glanced back at his computer, but there was nothing in his inbox besides the Gmail “Welcome” email. It was stupid to think this person would respond that quickly, seeing as Nico didn't even know if they would respond at all. Heaving a sigh, he got up to join his family for dinner. Maybe he could even convince them to watch Steven Universe instead of The Bachelor.

---

Dinner went as expected. It’d been a while, actually, since they were all together for a meal. Hazel talked about her psycho geometry teacher and a boy she talked in the class named Frank, who seemed sweet but apparently had a shared hatred for math just like her. Nico didn’t say much, although chimed in at the latter, saying he better be the flower boy at their wedding. That even got a short scoff out of his father, which tended to be the closest Nico ever got him laughing. So, that was a win. 

However, he was a little more distant than usual. The pending email response was in the back of his mind during the entire meal.

Even afterward, as they watched reruns of Glee (a compromise made between Hazel and Nico, much to their father’s dismay), Nico couldn’t focus. It felt like a weight was burning through his back pocket. After the second episode (and laughing his ass off at his father’s reaction to Kurt’s ‘Single Ladies’ dance) he finally excused himself. 

He tapped the Gmail app on his phone as soon as he had reached his room. It felt like his heart skipped a beat when he noticed the new notification, a response from the original poster. With slightly shaky hands, he tapped the response, and a message opened up.

From: [email protected]

To: [email protected]

Date: Oct 2 at 8:12 PM

Subject: I’ve never done this before

Dear anonymous person on the internet,

I really don’t know where to begin. I’m also not sure if you're a real person. For all I know you could be some random pedophile like one of those cases they warned us about in health class for the past 5 years, even though it’s never happened within the last decade.

But in case you are real, hello! I’m the original poster from that hb-secrets thread about life being a Ferris wheel. I’m rereading what I wrote there and I can’t stop cringing, so I’ll start by apologizing for that. I’m not usually one for metaphors, even the bad ones.

Anyway, it sounds like you identify with what I wrote. I’m glad you emailed me; I didn’t think anyone would actually do anything with the email that I left. Except maybe be extremely homophobic. But it made me feel less like I was shouting into the void, so thanks for that. And I assume you’re okay with me writing back since you sent me the first email. Though, I can’t believe I’m actually writing to you. I really didn’t think I would.

I guess I’m thinking it could be nice to talk with someone who can relate to how I’m feeling. No pressure, of course, but feel free to write back if you want to. I don’t want to use my real name, but you can call me Blue. 

It was surreal. Someone who was like Nico. Someone who wanted to talk to Nico because they were like him. 

He started to type again, with more excitement than he’s ever felt. He’s never been able to express this part of him before. It was almost like first date jitters-type feeling. 

(Not that he really knew what that was like.)

From: [email protected]

To: [email protected]

Date: Oct 2 at 8:23 PM

Subject: Re: I’ve never done this before

Hi, Blue

Wow, I’m actually kind of flipping out right now, because I seriously didn’t think I’d hear from you, especially so quickly. Wow. Okay. First of all, thanks for your email and also for your Tumblr post. I really liked it, Blue, and it wasn’t cringy at all, I promise.

So do you go here (here meaning HBHS)? I do, I’m a junior. And I’m a guy (are you a guy?) Anyway, I could relate a lot to your post, Like, pretty much all of it, but especially the part about being gay. You probably figured that out already though. And I’m not out yet either, which you probably figured that part out too. 

I guess a part of me wants to be out, but a part of me’s like… no. It’s hard to explain. I don’t know. Maybe you get it.

So yeah, it’s really nice to meet you! This is kind of cool, right? Even writing this email makes me feel eleven times less alone.

-Angel (not my real name either, two can play at this game. It’s not like a pet-name type thing. If you ever find out who I am, you’ll understand why.) 

He was worried about the whole name-signing thing. ‘Angel’ was just the easiest thing; it was a direct translation of his last name. He was really hoping Blue still didn’t take it in a weird way, even with that last note.

Relief flooded through him when he read the first sentence of Blue’s next email. 

From: [email protected]

To: [email protected]

Date: Oct 2 at 8:41 PM

Subject: Re: I’ve never done this before

Angel, huh? Maybe like guardian angel perhaps. 

Also, eleven times less alone? That’s oddly specific. :) But I know exactly what you mean.

Anyway, wow. Hi. You wrote back, and quickly too. I’m really glad you liked my post. Now I’m actually happy I put it out there. I have to admit, it’s strange to be writing a somewhat personal email to you when we don’t know each other’s identities. Though, in a way, I guess that makes it easier. Sorta like a therapist, except we’re both blindfolded and have the same problem. So not really a therapist, I guess.

Do you think therapists have therapists? Like, if the problems get to be too much for them? Is there an Almighty Therapist who just absorbs everyone's issues and feels nothing?

Anyway, I am a guy, and I’m also a junior at HB. I think you’re actually the first other gay guy I’ve met here. It’s pretty surreal to be talking to you. (In a good way though.) I wonder if we know each other in real life. 

And I think I understand what you mean. I feel like I’m constantly going back and forth about wanting to come out. I have these moments where I’m almost bursting to tell people. Of course, that’s where I was when I posted the thing on Tumblr. But I always feel so weird about it a few hours later, and sometimes I’m intensely relieved no one knows yet. What about you?

-Blue

From: [email protected]

To: [email protected]

Date: Oct 2 at 9:12 PM

Subject: Re: I’ve never done this before

I mean, let’s be real, eleven is the best number, which is perfect because we’re both in eleventh grade. And I can't believe we’re both juniors. The class is pretty small compared to the others, so I bet we do know each other, which is weird to think about. What if we’re actually enemies in real life? Do you have enemies? I don’t think I do, not really. Various people tend to annoy me a lot. It’s not even their fault; some people just have really punchable faces.

 (I’m usually a really nonviolent person. I’m more like a violent person who at the same doesn’t really want to hurt anyone, so I have to resort to fantasizing about punching people, which just ends in eating my feelings in large quantities of McDonald’s.)

It’s funny for me, it’s actually not so much that go back and forth about wanting to come out. It’s like I simultaneously do and don’t want to be out. Which is pretty freaking exhausting, honestly. Like I’m in this constant state of JUST SAY IT and NO NEVER. Do you think that ever ends? I don’t know, maybe I’m just a really indecisive person. I think part of me is also just holding out until college when I’m away from anyone I know and can just reinvent myself.

So what kind of stuff do you like to do after school and everything?

-Angel

From: [email protected]

To: [email protected]

Date: Oct 2 at 9:34 PM

Subject: Re: I’ve never done this before

I don’t think I have any enemies, but now I’m definitely wondering if I’m the guy with the punchable face. How do you know if you have a punchable face? I’ve never been punched, so hopefully, that’s a good sign. 

I will say, I’m definitely with you on the issue of eating your feelings. I’m the person who has never smoked a cigarette or gotten drunk or anything like that, and I'm usually relatively healthy. However, I once ate five jars of Nutella in one sitting. I do not recommend, 

I’m indecisive, too, in some ways. Okay, full disclosure: I was really conflicted when you sent me that email. I kept going back and forth about whether I should email you. I was (and am) definitely intrigued, but I guess I was also a little bit paranoid. It’s just that you could have been anyone, and it’s hard to know sometimes if someone’s being a jerk or if they’re being sincere. Plus my cousin sort of actually outed me. Not to anyone else, he’s the only one who knows, but now I’m super paranoid about coming out. (Exactly what you said about holding out until college. I’m thinking I can move to LA or somewhere where nobody really cares. Although I wouldn’t want to reinvent myself. And I don’t want you to reinvent yourself either, you’re pretty cool as you are I think.) Anyway, I’m really glad I decided to email you, though.

So, you’re probably going to think I’m ridiculous, but I’d rather not answer your last question. It’s just… I think I like being anonymous for now. Is that okay?

-Blue

Okay, that last part was fair. Nico understood the wanting-to-be-anonymous thing. Sure, they go to the same school. But Blue had no reason to entirely trust him; Nico didn’t really trust Blue at all. This could entirely be some random asshole anywhere in the world trying to find him and beat him up, or worse. It sucked that homophobia was still a thing in their day and age. 

But Blue said he liked talking to Nico, and it was thrilling to talk to him. It was another secret of his, but not one he entirely minded keeping. So, he chose to believe that Blue was actually who he said he was. 

From: [email protected]

To: [email protected]

Date: Oct 2 at 9:57 PM

Subject: Punchability

Blue, you have so much to learn about the rules of punchability, starting with the fact that it is completely impossible for you to have a punchable face. Rule number one: guys who make metaphors about Ferris wheels are automatically unpunchable. Rule number two: There isn’t one. Just rule number one, so memorize it. Everyone else can catch these fists. (Catch these fists? These hands? This would probably be more intimidating if I knew the correct phrasing)

Also, five jars of Nutella in one sitting is the worst idea I’ve ever heard in my life. Challenge accepted.

I don’t think you’re ridiculous, Blue. I totally understand why you don't want to tell me about your extracurricular activities (I’m guessing interpretive dance, though, you seem like the type.) But seriously, I get it. It’s this weird contradiction, right? It’s so much easier to be open with someone who doesn't know you at all. We’ll be each other's Ultimate Therapists. 

(Except I don’t think I could ever be a therapist.)

Anyway, I’m really glad you decided to email me back, too :)

-Angel

That smiley face was really unlike him. 

Nico sent the email, but after nearly an hour, he didn’t get on back, which meant Blue was probably asleep. Which was different from what Nico was used to; he tended to stay awake until the early hours of the morning most nights. But it wasn’t anything he minded. He had a conversation with Blue, and even if that was the last one they would ever have (which, he was hoping it wouldn’t be), it was good to know that there was somewhere out there like him.

#solangelo #heros of olympus #pjo #will solace #nico di angelo #pjo hoo big bang 2019 #im willing to make a tag list for this but i didnt want to use my general solangelo taglist #so if you would like a taglist for this fic lmk! #nstls

[minhoinator-writes]

One to a Hundred (~2900 words) read on AO3 // AFF

A/N: Sorta inspired by the Friends episode where Chandler kept accidentally kissing Monica after they get back from London....so I'm sure you can guess where this is gonna go lol I swear I'm working on the next BMS chapter, but it's just been a super stressful week for me and I needed a quick one-shot to get me back in the writing mood lol 

"It's gonna be weird, isn't it?"

"Hm?"

"Going home."

Minho sighed as he pressed his forehead into Kibum's shoulder, closing his eyes tightly. Right, their managers for Surprise Vacation would be coming to pick them up to go to the airport soon. Which, that was why Kibum was at his rented flat in the first place, so they wouldn't have to take two separate cars to the airports.

That was the only reason, as far as their managers were aware.

But, in reality, they were spending their last night together before they would have to return to Korea and the close-quarters of the dorm. This…development in their relationship was quite new, but the feelings behind it definitely were not.

After the cameras were off and they left the pizza place off of the ice rink, Kibum grabbed his hand and stole him away from the crew, and together they explored London for themselves. Truth be told, it was the best part of the entire trip, blessedly undocumented by the crew.

Some things were best kept to themselves.

Minho kissed along the plane of Kibum's bare shoulder, smiling when Kibum snuggled closer to his warmth.

"Isn't it?"

"What?"

Kibum scoffed. "Of course you weren't fucking listening to me."

"When do I ever?" Minho sniffed a laugh, his fingers toying with the waistband of Kibum's boxers. When did he put those on?

"All the time. You're really attentive, actually."

Minho blinked, his hand stilling on Kibum's stomach. This was part of the new development...more genuine compliments thrown into their usual banter. It was taking some getting used to, but he wasn't complaining. "Sorry, baby, I'm still tired."

He could hear the soft smile in Kibum's sigh. Another new thing...Kibum liked it when he called him baby. Minho relaxed on his pillow when Kibum started to turn around, doing his best to stay in Minho's arms. "You're not planning on telling the others, right?"

Minho shook his head. They had already discussed this, after their first kiss on the bridge overlooking the Thames that night they had snuck away. This would be their secret for as long as they could keep it. "Are you sure?"

Kibum searched his expression, his eyes dazzlingly beautiful for this early in the morning. "About?"

"That...that you want us to be together after we leave?"

His expression softened and he took Minho's hand in his, looking down at it as he started to fiddle with his hand. "Of course. I…" he shook his head, pursing his lips.

"What?"

Kibum grimaced. "It's stupid and cheesy." Minho grinned, shifting a bit closer to him. Kibum speared him with an exasperated look that melted into a shy smile. "Now that...we're together -- "

"Finally."

"Yes, finally, shut up, Min." Minho laughed and Kibum closed his eyes, shaking his head. "Now that we're together, I can't, like, imagine facing the world without you, you know, beside me." Kibum glanced up at him only to suppress his smile and immediately look back down at their hands between them. "Stop looking at me like that."

"Like what?" Kibum shook his head and Minho smiled, slipping his hand out of Kibum's limp grasp to raise his chin with an extended finger until their eyes met. "You're so cute when you get shy. I've always thought so."

"Shut up."

"Make me."

The mischievous glint in Kibum's eyes was Minho's only warning before he surged forward to silence him with a kiss. Minho smiled into it, holding Kibum close as he relaxed further into his pillow.

Honestly, if every morning began like this, he might be more of a morning person.

But, unfortunately, all good things must come to an end. The knocking of one of their managers pushed them apart, both hurrying to get pajamas on so their managers would be none the wiser.

And, so, it began.

The flight back to Korea was long and arduous. In between sleeping and eating, they both decided to work on the lyrics for their upcoming comeback. During the ManU game, Jeon Gandi emailed him the draft of Dream Girl, their next title song. He was supposed to write his rap for it, and after he finished eating his lunch, he got out his phone to start brainstorming ideas.

"Do you want my help?"

Minho glanced over at Kibum, noting the bags under his eyes and how sleepy he looked. He was a light sleeper, usually, so getting restful sleep on planes was more than a little difficult for him.

"It's okay, go ahead and try to sleep."

Kibum fought it, focusing instead on the lyrics Minho was starting to type...and backspace...and retype. He mumbled his ideas until he finally rested his head on Minho's shoulder, letting sleep claim him.

Minho smiled when he heard the first of Kibum's snores, and glanced down at the top of his head. After a furtive glance around, he placed a quick kiss on the crown of Kibum's head and refocused on writing.

It was a good song, really cute, in his opinion. He could already almost hear the upbeat tempo and the tune of it in his head. He read the lyrics again, and, maybe it was because their relationship was so new, but Minho couldn't help but think of Kibum.

"My heart makes me go after you in secret," he whispered aloud, glancing down at Kibum again. He read up to the point where his rap would come in, then reread it once more before he started to write his lyrics with Kibum fully in mind. The words flowed easily and once he was finished, he read over it again, making a few edits before he sent it back to Gandi.

Kibum stirred when Minho set his phone down. "Did you finish?"

"Mhm."

"Can I see?" Minho unlocked his phone and opened the email before passing it to Kibum. He watched his profile as he read over the rap, releasing a huff of a sigh when Kibum started to smile. "I like it."

"It's about you," Minho started to say but was cut off by the arrival of their manager bringing them a snack.

The comeback was a whirlwind of preparation that started almost as soon as they stepped off the plane. It swept them all up -- with regular meetings with him, Kibum, Jonghyun, and the other songwriters so they could finalize the tracks for the album, perfecting the choreography for the title track, photoshoots and the filming of the music video...it was a wonder they had any time to themselves to sleep or eat.

It wasn't a surprise that they had yet to be able to spend any time, alone, together, since their return to Korea. They did, however, tend to gravitate toward each other, no matter what they were doing, maintaining their connection through subtle glances and fleeting touches.

It was quite easy to hide their affection for each other from the others during a comeback. Everyone was too tired to focus on anything besides sleeping and how nice of a concept that was.

"Good night," Jinki mumbled as he pulled himself up from where he was nodding off on the couch. Minho glanced away from the television to watch him go before his attention shifted to Kibum, who was curled up in the chair by the hallway, reading a book.

"Night," Kibum said absently, and Minho went back to mindlessly playing his video game. Until Kibum's book snapped closed. He looked back, smiling as Kibum stretched in his seat. "I thought he'd never leave."

"Oh?"

Kibum smirked. "Mhm."

"We should probably go to sleep. Long day tomorrow."

"Today, technically."

Minho looked over at the clock. It was a little past midnight. "Yeah."

"Let's go to bed, huh?"

Minho nodded, turning off the TV and following Kibum down the hallway, turning sideways to move past him once Kibum stopped at his door. He grabbed Minho's hand before he got too far away. "What?"

"Aren't you coming?"

Minho blinked. "Where?"

"To bed." Minho blinked rapidly, his tired confusion clouding his mind. He pointed to his and Jonghyun's bedroom in answer. "I meant with me."

Minho's eyes widened. "What about Taemin?"

"He's with his parents tonight." Kibum cracked the door open and looked back at Minho with the same twinkle in his eye that had been there all those weeks ago in London.

Minho couldn't help but follow him inside.

* * * * * * * * * *

"So how'd you sleep?"

Kibum paused and glanced at Jonghyun before he took a tentative sip of his coffee. The question seemed innocuous enough, but there was something in his tone that made him slightly suspicious. "Fine. You?"

"Oh, you know me. Up later than I should be."

Jonghyun smirked, almost devilishly. Kibum squinted at him, the checked down the hallway when he heard footsteps. It was only Jinki. If Minho wasn't up in five minutes he'd have to go wake him up so they wouldn't be late for their schedules today.

They murmured good morning to each other as Jinki sat down beside him, grabbing the mug Jonghyun set down for him and staring at it blearily. A door opened and Kibum leaned back in his chair, smiling at Minho as he walked down to the bathroom at the far end of the hall.

"Hey, Jinki," Jonghyun said, glaring at the box of cereal on the top shelf of the cupboard. His favorite cereal. "Could you reach this for me?"

"I wonder who moved that," Kibum said, trying not to smile.

"Some tall asshole."

The door to the bathroom opened again, and Minho emerged in his running gear. He smiled sleepily at Kibum as he made his way toward him, and once he reached him, he said, "Good morning!" as he bent down to kiss him.

If this were any other situation, it would have been a sweet gesture. Kibum would have definitely kissed him back. But, instead, he just sat there in shock as Minho pulled away from him. His eyes were blown wide, and Minho's soon was too when he heard the clatter of a spoon in a bowl.

Both Jonghyun and Jinki were watching them, equally wide-eyed -- though Jonghyun was sporting a growing smile. Any possible excuse for Minho to be kissing Kibum that wasn't the fact that they were a couple completely left his brain. He would have stammered something, though, if Minho hadn't walked over to where they were, shaking his head slightly as he wrapped Jonghyun up in his arms.

"Good morning!" he said with strained cheer as he kissed him, and then again with Jinki. None of them moved after Minho left them, and Minho didn't turn around as he made his way toward the door. If his ears were anywhere near the color of his face, he was visibly embarrassed. "I'll be back! Taking a quick run!"

He took off before the door closed behind him, and Kibum's gaze immediately darted back to Jinki and Jonghyun.

"Well," Jinki said, picking up his bowl of cereal. "If I wasn't awake before, I certainly am now."

Before Jonghyun could comment, Kibum sprang from his seat and muttered something about going to get ready to leave.

As soon as he got into his room, his phone chimed. Kibum closed the door behind himself and went over to where it had been charging, unsurprised to find a flurry of texts from Minho.

Mino 5:13 // omg i'm so sorry 5:14 // i don't know what i was thinking i didn't even notice they were there at first 5:14 // were they mad at me? 5:15 // are you mad at me?? 5:15 // did they figure it out???

Kibum smiled at his screen as he started to type.

5:16 // Jjong might have but i don't know for sure 5:16 // and no, i'm not mad at you

He paused, internally debating before he sent hurry back.

5:18 // thank god 5:18 // wait why is there something wrong?

He could picture him clearly, standing there on the sidewalk, his phone in hand and his brow furrowed with concern as he stared at his screen, waiting for Kibum's reply. And, before Kibum could second guess himself or talk himself out of it…

5:18 // i miss you

He tossed his phone away immediately, and it landed with a soft thump on his bed. A moment later, it chimed twice then fell silent. Kibum watched it, waiting for several minutes for another notification. When none came, he slowly made his way over to his bed, picking it up to peek at the texts.

5:19 // awwww~ 5:19 // okay hold on

Kibum could feel the heat coloring his face as he tossed his phone back on his bed. He smiled as he sorted through his closet, picking an outfit that would be passable as fashionable enough for a radio show and a fan meet afterward. As he was fiddling with his beret in the mirror, figuring out its placement on his head, there came a knock on his door.

"Yeah."

The door opened, and a slightly breathless Minho poked his head in. "Hey, can you help me pick out an outfit?"

Kibum stared at him, then blink. "That was a really quick run."

"Someone asked me to hurry, so I did." He gave Kibum a cheeky wink and grin as he slipped away, probably heading for his bedroom next door. Kibum placed the beret without another thought and followed him. By the time he reached Minho's room, his shirt was discarded and he was sifting through his clothes. He smiled as Kibum stared, a little too smugly for Kibum's liking, but he couldn't tear his eyes away long enough to snap at him.

Sure, he had seen Minho shirtless before. Many times. They'd lived together as a group far too long for him not to. But, it was different now. Before, he wouldn't have been caught staring at him, not this blatantly. He didn't want to freak Minho out with his feelings for him, but now that he knew, and they were alone…

"Hey, my eyes are up here," Minho said, a smile in his voice.

"Yeah, I've seen them before." Minho snorted and Kibum finally looked up, sighing involuntarily. "Sorry."

"I don't mind. Come here." Kibum stepped further into the closet, his attention shifting from Minho to the clothes. "What about these?"

He held up two options that were clearly not designed to go together and he knew it, and Kibum sucked his teeth before playfully slapping Minho's shoulder. "Stop it."

"These?" Another terrible choice.

He rolled his eyes as Minho just laughed. "Fuck, just let me do it."

As Kibum stepped up to seriously inspect Minho's clothes, Minho slipped behind him and wrapped his arms around him before resting his head against his. Kibum hummed in appreciation at the warmth and closeness, but as he started to pick out some outfits, Minho started to distract him by kissing down his neck.

As much as Kibum would have liked to allow himself to get lost in the moment, in the security of being wrapped up in Minho's arms, in the way each time Minho's lips brushed against his skin made his heart flutter… They had places to be, and soon. He pulled a pair of skinny jeans, a black t-shirt, and a jacket off the rack and slipped out of his arms.

"You have to go shower or else we'll be late," he said.

"Okay."

Kibum searched Minho's expression, smiling softly at the affection radiating from his gaze. Before he could stop himself, he cupped Minho's face with both hands and pulled him into a kiss that was soon cut short by someone clearing their throat. They broke apart, both looking at a half-amused, half-confused Jonghyun.

"What the fuck is up with you two?"

"Nothing," they said at the same time.

"He's gonna go shower before the van gets here," Kibum said, hastily leaving the closet. "I'm gonna go finish my breakfast. What about you?"

"I was...gonna change out of my pajamas?"

"Good luck!" he said, slipping away from Minho, he patted Jonghyun on the shoulder, and after steeling himself, cupped his face much like he had just done with Minho and gave Jonghyun a firm kiss. "Okay, see you guys out...there…"

He hurried out the door, smacking his palm over his eyes after the door closed behind him. Yes, today was their first slip up since coming back from London, but there were bound to be more. Lots more… Something had to happen...change...if they were going to continue to be together.

And Kibum very much wanted that.

Maybe they should move out of the dorm. No, that would be way too suspicious, especially now. He started down the hallway toward the kitchen when he heard the jiggle of the knob behind him and he didn't look back when someone -- probably Minho -- walked out into the hallway.

If not one of them, then himself. It would be nice to have his own space. More room to fit his clothes, and all that. He stirred his now soggy cereal, grimacing at it. That was something to think about, but for now, he pushed the thought away.

It'd have to wait until the end of their comeback.

#Minkey #SHINee fics #shinee fic #SHINee drabble #SHINee #Kibum #Kim Kibum #Key #Minho #Choi Minho #established relationship #fluff #literally just fluff #this was fun to write