#I imagine people meeting him for the first time assume he was given that name bc he's “dumb as bricks”

[jaedoesart]

Brick and Brutus are three years apart age wise and for some reason my brain was like "Haha, funny fact. Your OCs are not only strangely looking alike save for colors lmao but they are also three years apart in age."

Okay brain what's next? They magically have the same height? Same month of existing? Nah ain't no way no matter how fucking hilarious that'd be to me. Because if either of those things were true? I'd be crying and laughing into my pillow bro. I'd choke on my water.

The things that separate the silly boys are hair color, outfits, eye color, hats, one is a train enjoyer and another is certified in construction work and operating a forklift.

(God I love these two so much, I love your son and I love my son. I love thinking about other ppls OCs😊)

Hold on now I need to know- How tall is Brutus??

Also I did not know abt the forklift thing :0 good for him

[dyaz-stories]

you know my tongue is a weapon || gojo satoru x reader

synopsis: Shoko suggests a study night, but Gojo's bored and he doesn't want to study. So, instead, he offers to play a game, when all the others have left to get some food: every time he gets an answer right, he gets a kiss.

As you soon find out, Gojo can be very good at studying, as long as he gets something out of it.

word count: 3.8k

genre: college!AU, mostly fluff i think

cw: kissing, making out, semi-public kissing, unresolved sexual tension, reader is insecure and is therefore an unreliable narrator, dry humping ig, fem reader (the word girl is used once)

a/n: first time writing for jujutsu and for gojo! any feedback is appreciated, and i hope you enjoy yourselves :)

soundtrack

prequel

Exam season is never a fun time to be on campus. Stress fills the air, the hallways, the always full libraries, even the coffee shops where people usually meet to relax between two classes. It’s the only conversation subject between sleep-deprived students, looming over their head threateningly at any time of the day and night. It’s stifling, a weight on their chest that never quite wears off.

As for you, well, you’re doing alright.

Oh, for sure, it’s a lot of work, and you’re not thrilled about it by any stretch of the imagination, but academia is your thing, so you don’t find it nearly as crushing as others do. You’re more terrified of the time period that comes afterwards, while you’re waiting for the results like Judgement day.

In the meantime, you’ve given up on trying to find a spot to study in the library, and you’ve been doing most of it in your small student room. You haven’t stepped outside in days when Shoko texts you to suggest a study night. You suspect that she hasn’t started working and intends to cram, but you take her up on the offer nonetheless.

You show up at her place right on time — you always are — with your notes and some snacks. You wait quietly after knocking, trying to make sense of the chatter you hear on the other side of the door. She had mentioned she would ask a few other people if they wanted to join, which you had assumed would be fine, but faced with the reality of it now you can feel a lump growing in your throat. Academia might be easy for you, but people… aren’t.

When the door opens to reveal Gojo Satoru, piercing blue eyes meeting yours through white locks of hair that he pushes out of his face a second later, you fully consider turning around and leaving.

“You made it,” he says, shooting you a wide grin.

“Hi,” you squeak in reply.

Gojo is a… friend. Ish. Kinda. You think. Well, he’s a friend of Shoko’s, anyway, so the two of you have hung out, socially, before. Up until last summer, you assumed he didn’t even know your name.

“Thank God you’re here,” Shoko says, appearing from behind him to grab your hand. “No one here wants to work. We need to whip these imbeciles into shape or something.”

“I’m working,” Nanami sighs from the table in the living room, where he’s sitting alone.

“I was just waiting for everyone to be here, Shoko,” Geto says, his voice soft and even, as he approaches the table.

You set your bag down, giving Nanami an sympathetic smile, and he pushes his glasses higher on his nose. When he nods at you, you’re pretty sure it’s a silent way of saying ‘thank you for not leaving me alone with them’.

“What are you guys starting with?” you ask, pulling some books out of your bag.

Everyone here has different majors, but with some classes in common. You’re not sure how efficient this enterprise is going to be, if you’re completely honest, but as Gojo lets himself fall on a chair with a dramatic sigh, you suppose it can’t be worse than if he was left to his own devices.

“I’m doing literature, algebra and physics tonight!” Haibara announces, perhaps a tad too enthusiastic. You don’t want to crush his hopes and dreams, but—

“You’re never going to get through all that in one night,” Nanami says with a frown.

“Don’t listen to him”, Gojo intervenes, “you can do anything you set your mind to.”

There are stars in Haibara’s eyes when he looks at him, but you notice the glances Gojo is stealing at Nanami, and the way his smile widens when Nanami grits his teeth in annoyance. You bite your lip so you don’t let out a chuckle.

“Do you want to start with literature with me?” you offer. “Nanami, you’ll have to handle algebra because I’m not taking any algebra classes this semester.”

The corner of Nanami’s lips curves to form a smile.

“It’s good that someone here is taking this seriously.”

“Ugh,” Gojo mutters. “Fine. Hey, Suguru, do you know what tests I have next week?”

Nanami buries his head in his hands with a pained groan, and you laugh again, lump gone from your throat now, as you move your chair to come sit next to Haibara. Gojo’s eyes follow your movement silently. When you lean over the same textbook as Haibara, shoulders brushing against his as you push a lock of hair behind your ear, his expression turns thoughtful. It’s only when Geto drops a book in front of him that he snaps out of it.

“Are you sure you don’t want to do shots instead?” he asks, tone sour.

“Man, don’t tempt me,” Shoko whines as she sits down as well. “The shots will have to wait.”

Truly, Gojo thinks, sadder words have never been spoken.

Nanami calls it quits right before 10 pm. He’s tried to leave a few times by then, usually because of one of Gojo’s quips, but Shoko’s managed to keep him around until then. It doesn’t help how delighted Gojo gets by his reactions, and you can’t blame him for abandoning you. You don’t doubt for a second that he would have been much more productive without everyone else around.

“If they pass their exams, we should give ourselves all the credit for that,” he comments at your intention, right before walking out the door. “Good luck with them.”

Then he’s gone, before Gojo can start to protest about why he is not getting any encouragements, even though he’s suffering so much, and everyone is mean, and nothing about this is fun, and—

Haibara, despite his best intentions, falls asleep on the couch less than thirty minutes later. It was just supposed to be quick nap, but by midnight he’s still down, and you can’t bring yourself to wake him up. Plus it’s not like you were making a lot of progress with him anyway, so he just might be better off sleeping.

It’s not long after that that Shoko starts to get real antsy. So far, she has kept on track despite Gojo’s attempts at distracting her, but you can tell she is starting to get incredibly bored. Somehow, that doesn’t seem to be Gojo’s case, even if the way his leg bounces underneath his chair tells you he’s itching to do anything other than sit here doing nothing.

“Fuck it,” Shoko says, finally giving up. “I’m going to get something to eat.”

Geto frowns.

“Now? Alone?”

“As if anything would happen to her,” Gojo says, spinning a pen between his fingers. “She’ll be the scariest person out there.”

Geto rolls his eyes.

“I’ll come with you,” he tells Shoko, and she shrugs. “Do you want to come too, Satoru?”

Gojo lets himself fall down on his chair, looking at Geto with his head hanging behind the back of the chair.

“Nah,” he says after a few seconds of intense deliberation. “Can’t abandon the teacher here.”

You feel your face heating up.

“Oh, I mean, I’m sure I’ll be fine. If you want to go, you should—”

“It’s fine,” he handwaves your protests away. “I’ll finally get some work done without Shoko here to constantly distract me with—”

He bursts out laughing when Shoko throws her pen at him.

“We’ll be right back,” she announces, standing up. “You,” she points at Gojo, “play nice. And you,” she gives you a severe look, “don’t hesitate to hit him. I’m not joking.”

She leaves the room, escorted by Geto. Haibara doesn’t even stir when the door slams.

“Alright,” Gojo says, not wasting a second to reach for your chair so he can pull you closer to him, “it’s my turn to get my own personal tutor.” His fingers brush against your leg as he pulls you in, and you know, from how his eyes seem to drink in everything about you, that he doesn’t miss your quiet gasp nor the way your breath quickens. You’ve noticed this before, too. If he likes annoying Nanami, he seems to delight in your reactions at least as much — though he tries to make you laugh or to fluster you rather than piss you off.

“Um,” you say, with the eloquence that characterizes you around him, “what do you need help with?”

He tilts his head to the side as he studies you. You find him breathtaking, you always do, but you think you’ve gotten better at hiding it, so even if it feels like he’s looking right into your soul, you give him an easy smile.

Somehow, he is the one who ends up averting his eyes.

“How about philosophy?”

Right, the two of you share that one class on the history of ideas.

“Sure,” you say, already grabbing a book and thumbing through it. “I’ve taken quite a few notes for that class, actually, I can give them to you if you—”

“That’s boring,” he interrupts you. “We should do something else.”

You put down your book, intrigued, and something twists in your stomach when you see the look he’s giving you. He’s like a cat with a mouse, with exactly the same hunger in his eyes.

“What—” you clear your throat when your voice cracks. “What are you suggesting?”

“Well,” he leans forward, resting his elbow on the table and putting his chin in his palm, “I need an incentive to work, you know?”

You swallow. Sure.

“So how ‘bout I get a kiss for every right answer I give you?”

And you almost choke on air.

“What?” you manage to croak. Blood is rushing to your face, and it feels like your brain is short-circuiting. Your heart’s beating faster, hammering in your chest, and you feel your palms grow sweaty.

“C’mon,” he teases, reaching out to pull on a lock of your hair and twirl it around his finger, and you know, you know, he knows he’s got you right where he wants to, “help me study.”

“Gojo—”

“Satoru,” he all but purrs.

“Satoru,” you say, “what are you doing?”

“What do you mean?” he blinks innocently. “Just trying to find a fun way to study.”

You examine him carefully, try to figure out what, exactly, is going on behind these beautiful eyes of his. You’ve had— moments, with him. He fell asleep on your shoulder in the car once. He held your hand through a busy festival, teasing you about not wanting you to get lost, and later helped you get on his shoulders so you’d get a better view of the stage. The one time you agreed to accompany Shoko to the club, you remember his hands on your hips, his breath against your ear, the ghost of his lips to your neck. But nothing actually happened between the two of you. You’d told yourself that it was all a distraction for him, that he didn’t want more.

This isn’t exactly confirmation. You don’t doubt that it’s all in good fun still, and knowing you, and how hard you tend to fall, you should walk away while you have the chance.

But you really, really want to kiss him. Want to know what it would feel like to taste his lips, to have his body pressed against yours, to feel his hands all over you.

You always take the smart decision. This is not the smart decision. But…

“What if you get it wrong?” you ask.

Satoru blinks.

“You can, uh, spray me with a water bottle?”

You let out a brief laugh.

“Isn’t that a dog thing? That feels unethical, Satoru.”

He preens at your use of his name.

“You should take your chance,” he drawls. “Shoko says it’s really cathartic.”

You’re not sure you need catharsis, but you feel a little lighter now. It’s all a joke to him, clearly, and from what you’ve seen in the past couple of hours, he hasn’t seriously studied once. He’s not going to get the answers right. You don’t think he’s even trying to.

“Fine,” you say with a playful roll of your eyes, reaching out for a water bottle and positioning your chair so you’re facing him. “Who came up with the notion of civil disobed—"

“Thoreau, 1848, but the essay was republished with that name in 1866.”

You stare. Gojo gives you a lazy smile.

“Now where’s my kiss?”

“Um,” you say. You feel incredibly awkward now. He’s leaning back against his chair, with eyes that have not left you once since he’s suggested that idea. You— have to move, now, don’t you?

Very slowly, very hesitantly, you push yourself to your feet. Satoru doesn’t move at all, and you don’t know if it relieves you or stresses you out even more. The position is quite uncomfortable, too, with you standing and him sitting down. You don’t know that you’ve ever towered over him like that. Gingerly, you put a hand on his shoulder, and then you’re leaning over him, and then you’re kissing him, and then you’re moving away as fast as you can. This was just a peck, really, a press of your lips to his that lasted a second, tops, and that you’re already trying to forget about.

You’re not a teenager anymore, and you know this shouldn’t be getting to you that much, but it’s— it’s Satoru Gojo. You’ve worked very, very hard not to think of him like that, because you didn’t want to let yourself get hurt. And now, you’ve let yourself be dragged into this so easily? Ugh. You wish you could slap yourself.

“Okay,” you say, voice more high-pitched than you’d like, but still understandable, which you’re grateful for. “Next, um, can you explain what philosopher kings are?”

Surely—

“Of course,” Satoru pretty much sing-songs. “Plato thought that cities should be ruled by trained philosophers, because only a philosopher would know and act for the good of a city.” There’s a brief pause, before he adds, “Aristotle thought that was bullshit, though. For the record.”

And then he waits. You narrow your eyes at him.

“When did you study for that?”

“I never study,” he answers lightly.

Instead of standing up this time, you scoot your chair closer to him, and you lean forward. Satoru chuckles, but humors you — even if the temptation of leaning further back to make you come to him, because you’re just adorable when you’re flustered, is great. This time, when you kiss him, though, he presses forward before you can move away, his nose brushing against your cheek as he chases after you. And oh, what a sight you are after that, wide eyed, lips parted, hands tightening on your notes.

“Next?” he asks.

“Right,” you say. You’re— not sure what’s happening here, to be quite honest. Should you stop this? You— don’t think you want to, but you’re also not sure what this charade is all about. “Um. Spinoza thought that free will—”

“—could only be reached through knowledge, and that most people never obtained it.”

Okay.

“Aren’t you supposed to be a physics major?”

He raises an eyebrow, looking genuinely amused.

“Determinism’s a pretty big deal in science, actually, but let’s not change the subject here.”

You bite your lower lip, and his eyes track the movement like he’s starving for you.

You’re feeling hot all over, anticipation burning inside of you, and this time, you can’t pretend that he hasn’t done this on purpose. That he wanted to kiss you. You can’t quite reconcile the way you see yourself with that thought — how could Gojo Satoru want you, of all people? — but you find that it doesn’t matter.

You lean towards him once more, and this time, you let yourself kiss him. Really kiss him. You press your lips to his, soft at first, but when you don’t move away immediately, you feel him pressing against you, one hand coming to cup your cheek. His teeth pull at your bottom lip, and you let out a involuntary gasp. He doesn’t waste the opportunity to slide his tongue inside your mouth, and you keep inching closer to him, hands coming to his shoulders for support. You can feel yourself melt into him, and you curse your common sense when it leads you to break away from the kiss.

It doesn’t deter Satoru, though, because as you do, his hand slides under your knee, and next thing you know, he’s pulled you into his lap. His face is deliciously flushed, pink hue under the pale skin. He looks up at you, long fingers tightening around your thighs.

“We should waste less time like that,” he says.

Shoko likes to say he’s insufferable, and you can see why. Everything all seems to come so easy to him, and you’re defenseless against the way your heart races. When his eyes are on you, it feels like you’re the only person in the world. You’re not usually the type to indulge in that idea, but, ah, what’s the harm, as long as you know how to come back to earth later on?

You shake your head as you take him in.

“How are you even doing that?” you ask, mildly peeved.

“Haven’t you heard?” he grins widely. “I’m a genius.”

You roll your eyes at him. You’ve heard about that, of course, about how he maintains stellar grades without breaking a sweat. You just hadn’t seen that in application until now. In class, he’s usually asleep, or taking great joy in bothering the teacher. You’ve never seen him try to get something.

“Well, where’s my question?”

You sigh, putting your arms around his neck. You left your notes on the table, meaning that you might be less prepared than he is, actually.

“Descartes famously said—”

“Cogito ergo sum. C’mon, rational doubt is at the heart of science. I’m starting to think you’re just trying to kiss me.”

You do want to kiss him, but you have the self-control to shrug.

“Well, if you don’t want to—”

His mouth is on yours before you can think of how to end that sentence. He kisses you hungrily, hands gripping your hips as he tries to pulls you closer to him. Your chest presses into his, and you tighten your hold around him, fingers running through his hair. He grunts when you pull on it slightly, tilts his head back a little more to give you better access to his mouth, and when his tongue brushes against yours once more, you can’t help but to rock your hips against his. The friction makes you gasp into his mouth, and one of your hands falls down to his shoulder, fisting his shirt as you try to find better support.

“Fuck,“ you hear him mumble underneath you, right as you feel him grow hard. He pushes up against you. His fingers dig into your skin, one hand slipping under your shirt to run over your skin, leaving a trail of fire behind. It moves higher, brushing against your bra.

Against your better judgement, your hands travel down his body, tracing over his muscles. You feel him twitch under you, and when you roll your hips once more, with much more intent than the first time, he groans.

“Satoru,” you whisper, though even you don’t know if it’s a plea for him to stop or to keep going.

His eyes widen, and you feel him lift you up easily, pushing you onto the table. You lean back slightly, resting your weight on one hand. He’s red all over now, from his ears to his neck. His pupils are wide, his lips swollen, his hair messy. He looks like sin.

You don’t want to think about what you look like.

“C’mon,” he says. “Last question.”

“Haibara’s in the living room,” you point out. Even you know where this is leading.

“He’s dead asleep,” he merely shrugs. He’s mesmerizing, but you note that the glimmer of amusement that always dances in his eyes. This feels— serious.

“Um,” you say, licking your lips and watching how he bites his as his grip on your waist tightens once more — like he’s holding himself back. “Confucius—”

And then, the front door opens.

Gojo clicks his tongue and reluctantly steps back as you jump down from the table, beelining for the bathroom — you know that kiss is written all over your face.

You glare at yourself in the mirror. Your body’s still tingling, and you’re aching with want, now that release has been denied to you, but you know better. You’re supposed to know better. You take a few seconds to comb through your hair with your hands, and when it no longer looks like someone’s, well, kissed you senseless, you cautiously step back outside.

“We got you some fuel,” Shoko announces loudly, before getting shushes by Geto. He points in Haibara’s direction, who’s started snoring slightly.

“Thank you so much,” you say sweetly. “I’ll— Why are you wet?”

Gojo deadpans as he looks at you but, well, there’s water dripping from his hair, down his chin, and onto the shirt your hands were fisted in just a few minutes earlier, so, you think the question is valid.

“He was splashing water on his face when we got here,” Geto supplies helpfully. “Gojo runs hot.”

“And now it’s all over my floor,” Shoko mutters. “Next time, just wait ‘til the bathroom’s free, huh?”

Gojo looks like he has something to say just on the tip of his tongue, but he glances at you and seems to swallow it back.

“If anything, I made it cleaner,” he proclaims, leaning back on his chair. “Shoko, how long has it been since you cleaned in here? We really need to find you a partner who’s willing to do that stuff, otherwise you’ll keep living in fil—”

Shoko’s pencil case lands right in the middle of his face.

“You absolute brat,” she spits out, “I can’t believe you’d have the nerve to tell me something like that when you rely exclusively on Geto to—”

The bickering continues, but you tune it out. Under the table, Satoru’s knee brushes against yours. It’s almost hesitant at first, before he leans his leg against yours, when he realizes you’re not moving away. This isn’t the smart choice, either, but, ah, you’re always, always the smart girl. Is it so bad to have a night of fun? Is it so bad that you want to know what it would feel like to have him, even if it’s just once?

He’ll break your heart, the voice of reason says in the back of your mind, but then Satoru looks back at you, checking to see if you’re laughing at how he’s making fun of Shoko and, well.

You think you’ll let him.

Any and all feedback in the form of asks, reblogs, comments, tags is highly encouraged and appreciated~ If you enjoy my work, interactions are what keep me writing and motivated!

I haven't written anything in months and I think it shows but, well, I have to restart somewhere lol, so I hope it was still fun for you and you enjoyed yourselves here for a little while. Thank you for reading <3

prequel

[snakeredbirdbatkatana]

I will be your Blade Point Me

Loyalty was a trait Janet Drake respected above all others.

It can give you power, fame, money to have someone's loyalty was to have their life.

Tim has always given his all. His people whatever they need they have. May it be his mind, his skills, or even his weapons.

If Dick Grayson demanded the shirt off his back he would remain naked till the end of his days.

Very few times has anyone actually used it the first to test it was Jason.

"Hey Jay.. What's up you never call?"

Tim's phone is always ringing from Wayne Enterprises to his assorted friends he can't remember it being silent. Yet the shock when HighWay to Hell started blaring almost sent him into cardiac arrest.

"Need a favor. Think you could meet me at that safe house you keep pretending not to break into?"

"Yah no problem also it's not breaking in when you leave the window unlocked. Give me ten."

~

Jason doesn't do favors. He would rather die again than ever ask for shit.

When it comes to Tim though he's not an idiot. During his return to Gotham he researched, knew everything about him from his favorite color to when he fucking peed.

Part of his research specifically including who trained the third Robin. Nevermind that watching the kid fight for more than ten minutes gives it away.

Lady Shiva, Ra's just to name a few. He moves almost exactly the same as Cass. Hides in the shadows better than Damian. The whole creepy debacle with Mr. Old as Fuck just furthered Jason hypothesis.

Baby Bird, Bruce's prized protege isn't none lethal.

"I need you to kill someone."

~

Tim in the back of his mind expected it.

Jason for all he is exactly like Bruce doesn't respond the same. To him protection is blood soaked, a knife to the throat is a greeting. Kindess was shrouded and wasn't offered without losing a part of yourself.

"Joker I'm assuming?"

~

He expected a bit of a fight maybe a lecture at least for him to pretend, not whatever it is Replacement is doing.

"He hasn't broken out of Arkham in months haven't heard shit and I hear your in the same business as me nowadays. What you say about helping a brother out?"

~

He wonders if Jason is aware of how his voice cracked. The pleading that was heard the unspoken because I can't. Tim couldn't imagine looking Jason in the eye and saying no. Watching your son bend and demanding he break.

"Hate to burst your bubble, but I already did, I know you think the worst of me but I wasn't gonna let your murderer keep kicking his feet."

He tosses the drive he's been sitting on almost three months before heading back to the window.

"I know we got our shit Jay but your my brother. This is something you needed to be able to sleep at night. You shouldn't feel like you have to beg. I honestly thought you had known and didn't want to acknowledge it."

~

Jason can't breathe as he shuts his computer. Thirty hours of torture his baby brother broke the Joker in ways that turned his stomach.

He climbs into bed his eyes shutting sleeping without a nightmare for the first time in years.

He can't ever repay Tim nothing will ever be enough but he is gonna do everything to try.

He wonders if Ra's might need the same treatment?

[666writingcafe]

New Voice Messages (Part Three)

Lucifer

"Hey. I know it's late and you're probably asleep, so you don't have to respond to this right away. I should be asleep, but I keep tossing and turning whenever I try, so I gave up on that hours ago. I'm currently sitting on the rooftop, looking up at the night sky. Well, and recording this message, but that's self-explanatory, I feel. *sighs* Don't mind my rambling. I'm both incredibly tired and slightly tipsy. I finally got around to trying the bottle of Demonus that Diavolo gave us as a housewarming gift, and it's pretty decent. I had a couple glasses of it before coming up here, thinking that it'd help put me to sleep. Obviously, it hasn't, but it was worth trying, I suppose. I at least feel like I can respond to your note without choking on my words or banging my head in frustration. *briefly pauses* Given the way you signed off on it, I'm going to assume that you trust me enough to not abuse your old name. That's also why I'm outside. Less likely to be overheard using it by my brothers. If that's okay with you. If it's not, feel free to tell me off for it the next time we meet. So, MC. *pauses again before lightly singing MC's name* Have I ever told you it's a pretty name? Saying it is comforting somehow. *clears his throat* Sorry. Like I said, I'm a bit drunk."

"Feeling more in control now. Might still ramble a bit, but hopefully not as much as before. *takes a deep breath* The first time I read your note, I ended up crying. Not because you said something wrong, but because it was...sweet? Is that the word I'm looking for? *briefly pauses as a gust of wind gets picked up on the mic* It'll have to do for now, I guess. Anyway...it's interesting how you and Diavolo said more or less the same thing, and yet I'm more inclined to listen to you than I am to him. Perhaps it's the difference in tone? I could definitely tell that he was getting frustrated with me towards the end of our phone call. I know there's a part of him that sees me as a really shiny toy, one that he's quite territorial over. If I were to leave his side, he'd throw a massive fit, I'd imagine, and he might start a war over it. Which is silly. I'm not worth fighting over. *pauses* And yet everyone seems to for some reason. It's like I cause people to lose their minds. I don't know if it's due to the amount of titles and prestige I've had or my physical appearance or something else entirely, but they seem to all go into hysteria after spending any significant amount of time with me. Except for you, MC. You don't care about Lucifer Morningstar, former Lightbringer, Avatar of Pride, yadda yadda yadda. You simply see me as me, if that makes sense. You want to make sure that I'm okay, and you don't expect anything in return. It's a way of repaying back the kindness bestowed upon you in your situation, I suppose. And it'd be cruel of me to ignore all of that and still plunge to my death. So I'm staying. *pauses* You're right. This does feel weird. You better make good on your promise, MC, or I may end up changing my mind again. *chuckles* Don't take that last part too seriously. I'm merely messing with you a bit."

"You know, I wonder what my brothers are thinking about this...offer being made to us. I already know Mammon and Beel would stay, and Belphie's going to do whatever Beel does, but I'm not sure about Levi and Asmo. I mean, you were there when Asmo was yelling at me about leaving the Celestial Realm. Do you think he's eagerly packing his bags as we speak, or--"

A Few Hours Later

"Sorry about the abrupt ending of my last message. Mammon caught me on the rooftop. We ended up talking for a while. *pauses* The two of us have an interesting relationship. Kinda similar to the one I have with Satan. Mammon's sort of my brother and sort of my son, except he didn't spring out of me like Satan did. He's the first angel I felt the need to protect. Everyone else was prepared to throw him away, even though he was merely a child. I couldn't sit back and let them treat him like that, especially not after I held him in my arms as he was crying. He was around the Chihuahua's age when that happened. *clears his throat* I apologize. I know you don't like me calling Luke a chihuahua. I really am trying not to. *pauses* So yeah. Satan's technically the third oldest, since he came into existence in my mind shortly after I took Mammon under my wing. Levi came into the picture when Mammon was a teenager, and the others when he was just becoming a fully-grown angel. *pauses again* It was actually Mammon that insisted that we take care of them, and he was so earnest about it that I couldn't say no. I mean, the fact that he was willing to do for others what I've done for him...I was quite proud of him. Still am, even though he insists on putting on a persona these days. I know deep down, he still cares about everyone. *pauses yet again* Is it weird that I feel comfortable sharing all of this with you, MC? It might be the alcohol still affecting me, but somehow I don't think it is. I...I think I've come to trust you. Completely. I haven't even gotten there with Diavolo yet, and I've known him a lot longer. *chuckles* You truly are special, little lamb. *silence* Shit. That wasn't supposed to be said out loud. I better go before I start calling you more silly nicknames. Good night, MC."

Taglist: @lost-in-time-wanderer, @fuzztacular, @dianedancer18, @sweetbrier2908, @flare-love, @completelyshatteredbrokenmschf, @thunderlightning351, @l3v1chan, @anxious-chick, @5mary5, @expressionless-fr, @tenkobitch, @interconnectedmatrix

[petalsofyouth]

limerence; and it goes both ways | ran haitani x reader

tw: unestablished relationship, smoking, mentions of usage of weed, sexual activity (it's not really detailed, but it is, haha) /i think that's it, but i probably missed something as i usually do, so please do tell me if you think i forgot something/

wc: 28 128

author's note: ran was supposed to be extremely toxic in this, but he isn't. we'll meet the version of ran i initially intend in another story. oh, and they all are in universities, so it's uni au, no usual gangs activities.

i.

Aoki Ogura is perfect, or so Ran thinks.

She says her first name is spelled with kanji that mean 'a little love,' and her last name means 'tiny' and 'blue.' She giggles as she says it, staring with her beautiful eyes at Ran. She might like him, and he might like her too.

Or even more.

Ran thinks he is in love with the girl in front of him, and it doesn't really matter that he has only seen her twice in his life: once when Rindou was picking him up from rehearsals for dinner and Ran happened to tag along, and today, for the second time, at someone's party in Kamakura.

He doesn't dare to say it aloud yet, but he already calls it fate. Ran is quick to assume.

He chats up this pretty, perfect girl, leaning down to her so she can hear him over 'Cherry Girl' by Black Cherry, which is playing too loudly for Ran's taste. But today he won't complain and whine about it as he usually would've, because this works exactly in his favor, creating the much-desired proximity between his body and Aoki's. They are really really close.

Her body is nice too. She's wearing a white summer dress that hugs her shoulders and waist so tightly that Ran doesn't need much imagination to have her undressed before him. Besides, he knows that Aoki is a dance major. A nice body is a given. He has hooked up with girls from the dance department before. He has never been disappointed once.

Right now, though, he feels like the happiest person at this party in the house that is too small for so many people. His chest is burning, and a smile blooms by itself. Aoki is telling him about her white cat, and Ran, who has never before been very enthusiastic about animals, nods at her, agreeing that cats are the best pets to have.

By the end of their conversation, Ran forgets that he always wanted to have a dog and that his favorite color was never blue, but white and purple.

ii.

Rindou doesn't share his brother's enthusiasm about Aoki.

He doesn't think she's cute, beautiful, or even talented. He has spoken to her before numerous times, and the only thing he remembers is the deep irritation he felt as she spoke in that high-pitched voice of hers that every J-idol claims to have. If she weren't your friend - of a sort - he would never entertain her with his company.

But you are classmates, and you are Rindou's best friend, and he loves you too much to ruin your somewhat good relationship with Aoki.

So when he spots his brother's face with the softest expression he has ever had while he talks to Aoki, Rindou is beyond disgusted. Blame it on alcohol or real physical disturbance from the unfolding scene, but Rindou gets nauseous and, closing his mouth with his hand, retreats to the back of the house in the direction of the beach. All the toilets are occupied anyway.

It's not long after he is done, and the rusty taste fills his mouth, that you appear with a bottle of sparkling water and mints in the pocket of your leather pants. He can see the outline of the box there, and he shoots you a half-smile, knowing well that you stole those from the cupboard in the hall of Ryou's house.

"Are you good?" you ask, squatting down near him. You pass him a bottle of water and watch him as he drinks it to the end.

"Yeah. I am okay," he hums appreciatively and takes a candy from the box. They aren't minty. They are strawberry flavoured. He likes these. "Thank you. You are a real-life angel."

You don't reply. Just nod at him and peer in front of you at the vast darkness where the sea and the sky are one black hole; your eyes are the same.

The music from the house is distant, and it feels as if you and Rindou are somewhere far away from this place, only the two of you in your own little world where no one and nothing can touch you. However, this is not true, and Ran is the one to prove it. If there's someone more worthy of this role for shattering illusions than Ran, Rindou doesn't know them yet.

"I've told you not to mix weed and alcohol," Ran sighs, standing behind you both. He doesn't sit down or come closer, and yet his presence is suffocating.

You turn your head, disappointment written all over your face, and Rindou wonders why it is that you are disappointed. Is it because instead of words of consolation, Ran is quick to assume? Or maybe because you just don't want him here? Or perhaps it's for your own reason that you hide deep in your chest, unknown to him?

You and Ran aren't really friends, but you aren't on bad terms either, nor could your relationship be called neutral. It is whatever it is - the mess, the chaos, and the calm understanding.

"We weren't smoking, Ran." Your lower lip quivers, and your eyes are squinted. Finally, you are disgusted with him, but out of habit, you call him by his name. There's something Rindou knows you won't admit, but you like Ran's name a lot. Otherwise, why would you say it so often? "Why are you even here? Shouldn't you be entertaining your bimbos?"

"Why are you here? Shouldn't you be with your red-haired celebrity?" Ran shoots back, taking a step closer in your direction, and if he wants to be intimidating, it doesn't work on you.

"First of all, Haru's hair is pink. Secondly, he isn't even here. And lastly, are you colourblind, by any chance, Ran? That would explain this atrocious outfit…"

The sentence is never finished because Ran yanks you by the elbow and pinches your arm. Hard. You yelp and barely stand on your wobbly legs that hurt from squatting for too long. Ran steadies you, helping you not to fall down on your ass as he holds each of your arms in his hands. Your eyes meet. Yours furious and his calm but curious.

You open your mouth to say something, probably unpleasant, but Rindou cuts in. "Stop pinching her."

"Okay. I am sorry." Ran still holds you by your arms, his hands warming your cold skin where he touches you. When you scoff and attempt to break free, he doesn't let go. He tugs you closer. "I really am. See."

Fatigue from emptying his stomach only a few minutes earlier returns when Rindou stands up. His vision goes blurry for a second. The world spins around him, and the music and you and Ran are a beautiful smudged carousel. He grounds himself, breathing in and out. In and out. More than anything, he doesn't want to puke again.

But when the world clears, and he sees Ran rubbing soothing gentle circles on the place on your arm where he pinched you, he wishes he puked. It's even worse looking at him being tender with you than dumbstruck by Aoki. With you, it's gut-wrenching.

"You know, Ran, I prefer it more when you are rude to me than whatever this was," you exclaim, but if you were angry before, you aren't now. You break free from him and come to Rindou's side. You take a good look at his face and cupping it, brush long blonde hair away from his eyes, spreading them all the way to the back of his head. "Do you want to go eat something? Maybe ramen? Hm? No. Actually, you should eat ochazuke now, and then we'll get you that vitamin thing from 7-Eleven. Okay? So you won't have a hangover tomorrow."

Rindou is not that drunk. He only had two cans of beer and a shot of vodka. But he doesn't argue with you. After all, he is used to you babying him from time to time. He hated it at first, but hate is nothing more than love that you can't untangle just yet. He nods at you and steals a box of strawberry candies from your pocket, popping one into his mouth. They are indeed nice.

As you leave the party, your arms linked, Ran follows behind you both. He wasn't invited to your little late dinner or early breakfast, but he assumes he is coming because he is the one with the car.

Well, if anything, Ran is quick to assume. iii.

Inside the diner, it's warm, and the air is rich with the smell of delicious food.

You sit beside Rindou on red cushions and watch him eat ochazuke with unagi and nori. Ran is sitting across from you, his plate of shoyu ramen untouched. He's waiting for it to cool down a bit. He claims that hot food never sits well in his stomach. For one reason or another, you don't believe it's true; it's probably another white lie.

In your opinion, Ran is woven with lies—innocent and not. As long as those lies don't harm you, you're fine with them.

The diner you're in is the usual one you always stop by after Ryou's parties. It's small, cheap, and the food is always fresh and tasty. It's in Kanagawa, near Shirahataike Park. If Ran weren't with you and Rindou didn't throw up earlier, you would've asked Rindou to go there and lie down on the grass near the pond, maybe smoke one or two of your specially reserved "Seven Stars" until dawn found you there and it got too cold. He, of course, would have agreed. He always does. It's more of a habit now. A little custom that's only yours.

Out of the blue, Ran asks, "On what days does the dance department practice?"

With a spoon between your lips, you frown. You shoot a quick glance at Rindou and catch how quickly his eyes harden, his mouth becoming a thin line. Oh, so Rindou knows the reason for the question, and while you might not, you have your suspicions.

"So? Who's your next victim, Ran?" you ask and put the spoon down in the bowl with the thick brown broth. You and Ran ordered the same.

"Why victim?" His eyes widen in surprise, and he looks quite comical.

You tilt your head to the side and laugh. Rindou near you is smiling too, but for a different reason than you suppose. "Just tell me who you want to hook up with, and maybe I'll give you her number."

"Actually, you know what? I can just ask myself."

"You sure can," you reply, shrugging your shoulders and in the next minute, you forget all about Ran's question as you turn to Rindou and ask him if he finished that music assignment he was working on. You say that today you talked to Ryou, and he had almost finished his.

The conversation between you and Rindou flows as effortlessly as ever. You discuss your classes, assignments, and even gossip about your mutual friends and people you don't even know the names of. You laugh a lot, and a couple of times, you get too serious, needing a pause before picking up the conversation again. You enjoy these two hours spent at the diner more than you enjoyed the party itself.

When the sky is flushed with pink and blue, you decide to call it a night. Rindou excuses himself to the restroom, and you find yourself with Ran standing on the porch of the ramen shop. It's raining a little, but the air is fresh, smelling of grass and soil. It smells like new beginnings and the meaning of life. You catch yourself thinking that for the first time in a long while, you're truly happy.

Sometimes, life is worth it all.

"Do you like the color blue?"

"What?" You stop swaying on your tiptoes and tuck your hands into the pockets of your jacket. It's mid-April, but still a bit chilly. "Do I like the color blue?"

"Yeah. Do you?"

"Depends on the shade of blue. It can be the happiest or the saddest color in the world. I need to know which shade of blue you mean, Ran." You contemplate it for a moment and then shake your head, quickly adding, "No. I don't think I actually like any color at all. Maybe just white and black."

"Aren't those two colors too?"

Your lips curve into a smile, and you look down at your tabi boots, thrifted from a vintage shop in Nakano. The shop owner told you, it once was his wife’s boots and she got them in Belgium in 1994. It was her favourite pair of shoes, but she died recently and he can’t bring himself to keep them around. He said that he wanted these stupid tabi boots to continue living on and bring happiness to other people even if his own wife was beyond the point of any human emotion.

"No, they aren't, really," you whisper, more to yourself than to Ran. "It's the absence of color that I like. It's like none of them exist."

The rain continues to pour until the afternoon, and then it suddenly stops, as if it was never there.

iv.

Ran had never longed for a girl before.

The feeling is new, and it is unpleasant. He doesn't understand why he keeps thinking about her and why he wants to hear her voice again. The fact that he couldn't remember what they were talking about at the party doesn't matter. Ran never remembers conversations he had with girls. He only remembers Aoki's plump, pink lips and her sweet, pretty eyes.

He needs to see her now. Today.

But unfortunately for him, he doesn't study at your university, and tagging along with Rindou to pick you up after your classes might be suspicious. Besides, Aoki might not even be there.

He doesn't want to ask you about Aoki either. It's stupid, really. He has asked you about multiple girls from your class before, but right now, he feels that asking about precious Aoki might spoil everything. Ran wants everything to be perfect because he thinks he was in love.

Having you as a connection to Aoki is like having no connection at all.

So, he tries the only remedy he knows—sex. And when that only blows off steam for a couple of days, a week at best, he does something he has never done before: he studies.

That's how you found him one day as you stop by their apartment to pick Rindou up so you can have your lunch together. Ran guesses he looks ridiculous in his grey sweatpants and old, loose T-shirt, surrounded by piles of books and handouts. Otherwise, why would you smile at him?

"Didn't know you were such a fan of studying, Ran," you say, dragging his name out and he rolls his eyes at you. If you want to mock him, you need to try harder. "Why don't you join us for lunch? Have you eaten already?"

"Not interested," he replies, not tearing his eyes away from the handouts with case-study before him.

"Oh, really? Too bad. I thought you might want to see Aoki Ogura again."

As Ran lifts his eyes to take a look at your face, to see if you were being serious or messing with him, you aren't there anymore. He catches a glimpse of your back disappearing through Rindou's door and hears his brother cursing at you for scaring him.

You close the door as you get in.

v.

Of course, Ran tails for the lunch with you, and of course, it annoys Rindou.

It's not that he doesn't enjoy hanging out with his brother—he pretty much does, and yet, he prefers having his own circle of friends to himself. You and Haruchiyo were his sacred zone. Only his to enjoy and spend time together with.

With Ran and Aiko and Aiko’s new boyfriend Takeshi, lunch gets awkward. Not because Ran is upset or mad or anything of the sort, but because Aoki gets flustered when she sees Ran and despite bragging to you before that she is so in love with Takeshi - you have told that to Rindou over another lunch on another Sunday - she sits between you and Haruchiyo, leaving Rindou to sit next to her stupid boyfriend.

"How did you two get together?" Ran asks Aoki, his voice dripping with sweetness. He chews on a yellow plastic straw that smells of fresh orange juice. "The last time we saw each other, you were single, or am I wrong?"

Aoki giggles, and her doll-like face turns pink. "We met at the party a week after Ryou's. I thought you would have come. That's why I went."

"Me?" Ran raises his eyebrows and takes a big sip of juice from the glass, ignoring the forgotten straw on the marble table. "Why would I?"

"Probably because I was invited, but I didn't end up going. I heard that party was a huge flop. What happened?" Already tired of the meaningless and obviously flirtatious exchange, Rindou cuts in, shifting Aoki's attention from Ran to him.

The girl sighs and, before replying, cuts a small piece of her vanilla cheesecake and puts it in her mouth, chewing. Pretentious little bitch. "You probably don't know them, but Shota from the second-year oil painting class got into a fight with Rintaro from the first-year dance class. They say Shota's girl cheated on him. Wasn't much of a fight, though."

"Bullshit. I know Rintaro pretty well, and he never laid a finger on that girl."

"Oh, really? I heard they made a tape with her."

"Like a sex tape?"

"Yes. I haven't seen it, but they say it was..."

"Cut the bullshit, Ogura." Haruchiyo is too loud as he defends his friend for the second time. A couple seated nearby turns their heads toward your table, intrigued by the sudden commotion. "It wasn't him in the video."

"You talk like you're familiar with his dick," the smirk on Takeshi’s full lips is not meant to be perceived as a mocking one, Rindou really wants to think it’s not, but before he or either anyone else reacts, you laugh and your laugh is cruel and cold.

"If Haru says it wasn't Rintaro, then it wasn't Rintaro. Why the dick comment?"

"Just joking. Right, baby?" Takeshi shoots a toothy smile at Aoki, who sheepishly nods. Rindou wishes you hadn't invited her to lunch. It should've been just you, him, and Haruchiyo. "But I still find it strange that he's so sure it wasn't him in the video. It was just a guy's dick sliding in and out."

"I've never seen the video."

"So you believe whatever he says?" “Oh, God. It’s annoying.” You whine. You lick your lips and stare straight at Takeshi who is right in front of you. Your eyes are black and endless, bottomless, reminiscent of that party where Rindou threw up, where Ran saw Aoki for the second time, and where this mess began. “So, say, your friend comes to you and says he didn’t do it, but everyone else says he did it. Who do you believe? Your friend or them?

Takeshi doesn't hesitate in his response. "A lot of people can't be wrong, right?"

A small little cloud of air escapes your mouth, and your body that has been strained like a tightrope, is now limp in the chair. You look tired. Rindou wants to ask if you're okay, but he refrains. Besides, you start speaking again, this time not looking at Takeshi but at the blue summer sky above you. "Nah. I think they can be wrong. If Rindou or Haru tell me they didn't do it, that's all I need to know. No one can convince me they did it if they say they didn't. So if Haru says it wasn't Rintaro, then it wasn't fucking Rintaro in the video."

For the rest of the lunch, you don't speak much, and Rindou is concerned. He doesn't like it when you get quiet, as it usually means you're sad. More than anything in this world, Rindou hates it when you crawl inside the small room in your heart and lock the door from the inside. It’s the one place he can never reach.

He will never be there for you. Sure, you love each other, but there are places in you that he won’t ever have an access to. He is not the only one who notices the change in your mood. There’s Haruchiyo who brings you into conversation every chance he gets and smiles at you so brightly you totally find it annoying and then there’s Ran, who hasn't taken his eyes off you, since your little quarrel with Takeshi. It's a Ran, Rindou has never seen before - calm, defenceless, and so very curious. He too isn’t participating in the conversation as much as he was before. Only occasionally when he is directly addressed to would he say something, but other than that he remains silent, vigilant over you. It's as if he's afraid that if he looks away, even for a second, you might slip away from him. The sun is close enough to jump behind the horizon to wake up another part of the world when you stand up from the table. The chair screeches against the pavement as you drag it. The sound is jarring, but the entire street is bathed in gentle golden glow, and to Rindou, you look the most beautiful in this moment, even with sadness resting inside you.

"I think I'll head out. I wanted to practice for the showcase," you say, picking up your bag from the floor. Before Rindou or Haruchiyo can say anything, you wave at them. "No need to walk with me. I'll see you guys tomorrow."

Neither of them protests. Both know it won't lead to anything. They give you space when you need it. Around midnight both of them will call you anyway to check if you are still at the campus studio, and if you are, they'll come to pick you up and take you home.  They'll both call you around midnight to check if you're still at the campus studio, and if you are, they'll come to pick you up and take you home.

So you bid everyone farewell, leave money on the table, and head on your way.

As Rindou watches you walk down the street, he wishes he could fall in love with you and you with him. Then, everything would be simple, and you wouldn't be sad, and tears wouldn't mar your pretty face.

But this dream will remain just that—a dream, a mere thought in his mind that will never fully bloom.

His little sacred wish.

vi.

No one is at the university, and it's not surprising. It's Sunday, and it's almost summer. Everyone has better things to do.

Even you. You could have stayed with your friends and then invited yourself over to Haru's place and watched a movie with him or maybe read a book in solemn silence, eating homemade sandwiches without cheese. There is never any cheese at his house since he is intolerant, but it doesn't bother you. Not even a little.

Or, you could have gone with Rindou to the cinema and stayed over at his apartment. He would let you take his bed and then complain about a backache the next morning. He'd promise to make Ran buy a more comfortable couch, but the next time you'll visit, it will still be that white sofa they bought at a discount from some local shop in Roppongi. You'll point it out - you always do - and Rindou will say that it's actually quite okay and he just wanted to get your attention. You'll pinch him then.

And, of course, the three of you could've crashed at your place or gone together to the studio where you would've taught them some choreography. Haruchiyo would give up first; he is really stiff when it comes to dancing. But Rindou would surprisingly be good, and you would praise him, making him really happy about it.

But you made your choice, and now you are all alone in the studio, and the sun has already set. You dwell a little bit on what made you so upset earlier, but these thoughts - ugly worms - crack open old, forgotten scars, and they bleed. You don't know how to stop them, so you blast music at full volume and dance.

Dance is your sanity, your method of salvation, and your coping strategy. You dance and dance, and you don't stop until it hurts to breathe, and only then do you collapse onto the floor. The hundreds of you in the ceiling-to-floor mirrors do the same. They smile at you and they were smiling as you were dancing, and you suppose you did too, but unfortunately you can’t remember it, and therefore, it never happened.

The door cracks open while you're lying on the floor. You don't turn around to see who it is. Somehow, you know it's him.

It's Ran.

"Is purin daifuku your favorite, or did I mess up, and you won't let me stay?"

Food as a bargain is a bit outdated. For Ran it’s even quite a bit lame. You don't buy it, not for a single second. Because Ran himself is a white lie, a spider web of confusion [in which he pulls you in].

The heavy iron door doesn't make a sound as he shuts it behind him, and you gently close your eyes. Your eyelids fall as they would if you had fallen asleep in your tiny rented apartment in Nippori. It's an act of surrender, almost as if you're giving him the reins, but you doubt he understands it, and so it's alright.

The bags in his hands rustle, and you catch a slight smell of tuna. What has he brought? And why? The second question is the most important, so that's what you ask.

"What do you want? Aoki won't come today or ever. She doesn't practice much."

"Who said I came for her?" Ran counters, and you hear him settling down next to you. You hear the bag being ripped open and try to predict his moves. It's a silly game, but you let yourself indulge in it. You imagine him taking out the food and sitting in a lotus pose to your left. Does he glance at you? Only briefly. There's nothing new or exciting for him to see.

You'll never know if you're right in your guessing game, and you're not very interested. There's no prize to it, anyway.

"You didn't?"

"No. I came to see you."

You sigh, and his indirect lie makes you take a deep breath before opening your eyes and rolling your head to the side, so you can have a good look at him. "Don't lie to me, Ran. There's no point. Just tell me what you want."

He stops whatever he was doing, and his face, so uncharacteristically gentle in this moment, shows surprise. "What would I want from you? There's literally nothing I need from you. I just came here to see you. That's all."

His words are both hurtful and pleasant. Ran Haitani is a duality of a man. He is both white and black. The absence and richness in one body.

You sigh again, this time more disappointed, and leaning your body on your palms, you sit in the same pose as Ran. He still looks at you, his gaze unwavering and searching. A question seems to be on the tip of his tongue, but his lips pressed into a thin line keep it at bay. Only when you look down, your mouth falling open, your eyes widening in awe, does he continue the task of taking the food out of the bag.

"You clearly want something. It's my favorite food. Everything here is what I like."

"So you do like purin daifuku?"

"I do." You nod, reaching out for the bag of caramel corn chips. The flavour is almond caramel, your favourite. "Did Rindou tell you to come here?"

"No. He doesn't even know I came to see you. He's staying over at Akashi's today." He takes out a pair of wooden chopsticks and shoves them your way. A plate of the finest sashimi sits between the two of you. "Stop acting like that. You make me regret coming here. Doesn't my brother spoil you?"

"It's Rindou. Of course, he does." You fall silent as you break the glued-together chopsticks into two pieces. Ran does the same. "It's just different when you do it. Until last year, I thought you didn't even know my name."

"You're being stupid, you know? Of course, I always knew your name." He shakes his head and laughs, and the insult he directed at you a moment ago doesn't feel like an insult at all. Just a little teasing, nothing more. And that’s why you don’t bite back.

Silence envelops you as you eat. No one comes to the studio, and you hear nothing other than the sound of you and Ran chewing. He doesn't speak much, only praising the food he brought and mentioning that he got the sashimi from his favourite restaurant in Roppongi. He promises to tell Rindou to take you there, and he promises to come along. You tell him that you hope he's good with promises because the sashimi is really good, and you wouldn't mind having it again.

But when, after some time, you ask him again why he's here, he merely hums and ignores the question.

"Aoki asked me about you a few weeks ago. We don't share many classes, and we aren't friends, but she knows Rindou is my best friend. So she asked me about you when she saw me." It's another silly guessing game. This time, you try to pinpoint the reason for him being there with you, and if it's not about Aoki, then you're lost. Gladly, there won't be any retributions; just as there won't be any prizes. "She told me she spoke to you at Ryou's party and that she thought you might have liked her, so she asked me to link you two because she liked you too. I told her she should come for lunch with us. She never mentioned she had a boyfriend, though. And then..."

"I liked what you said to him back at the cafe."

"Didn't you hear what I just said, Ran?"

"I did. Did you hear what I said?" On his lips is a playful smile, but his eyes are relaxed and drowsy, and he is looking at you as if seeing you for the very first time. It might be it, but you won’t ask why he saw you only now and he won’t ever say it.

"Yeah, I did. We need to clean everything up here and get going. It's probably around ten now."

He agrees, and together you collect the trash and leftover food. The unfinished snacks and greasy chopsticks go into the paper bag with the restaurant's name on it. For some reason, you fixate on it, trying to commit the name to memory, repeating it over and over in your head.

Fukuzushi. Fukuzushi. Fukuzushi. Fukuzushi. Fukuzushi. Fukuzushi. Fukuzushi. Fukuzushi. Fukuzushi.

Retreating into your thoughts won't help you, just as it never had before, and certainly not now, not with Ran, who can access every sacred part of you.

You can't hide from him. He'll find you.

"Can I come to your place? I don't want to go home to an empty apartment just yet. It's completely fine if you say no. I'll understand."

"Don't be silly, Ran. Why not? I'd be bored at home alone too."

You're always before him.

vii.

It's his first time in your apartment, yet it feels like he's been here before.

Even though he knows very well that he hasn't.

There's no recollection of your old worn-out black leather couch, mahogany table, or the floor-to-ceiling bookshelf that stands half-empty, most of the books lying on the floor near it instead of being placed on the shelves. He can't remember the two bar stools near the kitchen island, and he definitely shouldn't recognise your bedroom, the only separate room in your apartment.

And yet, he does.

The sound of water splashing across the tiles doesn't drown out your singing, and as Ran traces his fingers across every single object in your house, he listens to your voice, which somehow feels familiar to him too. Maybe it's what they call deja-vu, or perhaps it's a sense of belonging. It's peculiar and it's strange, and too difficult for him to comprehend, so he locks it in the back of his mind.

While waiting for you to come out from the shower, he occupies himself with a book that was lying on the kitchen island. It has a bookmark inside - a polaroid picture of his brother's smiling face. Rindou is being hugged from behind by you, your body looming over him. Your head is tilted down, so he can't make out your expression, but he has a hunch you were both smiling. You always smile around Rindou.

Ran has always wondered why the two of you aren't dating. He asks you just that as you're making cherry tea for both of you in the kitchen.

Before answering, you roll your eyes at him. "We don't see each other in that way. I mean… No. I can imagine dating him, but I don't see it leading us anywhere. I love Rindou too much to risk losing him, and I don't really love him in that romantic way. You know what I mean."

Love is a foreign concept to Ran, and even now that he thinks he might be in love with Aoki, he doesn't believe he understands what you mean. To him, love is love. It either exists in you or it doesn’t. You either feel it for someone or you don't. With all these ways and methods, you're just overcomplicating something that shouldn't be difficult in the first place. "What about Haru then?"

"Haru?" You place a white mug with tea in front of him. It smells really good - sweet and pleasant, somehow just like you. "We kissed once, but we were really drunk, and it was a bet. It didn't feel like anything. I doubt Haru even remembers it."

"Have you kissed Rindou then too?"

"No." As if deeply offended, you frown at Ran, then hop onto a bar stool and look to your right at the dark window, its reflection showing the compact room you're in. He might be imagining things, but he swears you're looking at him through the reflection. "I would never. Anyway, don't you want to know what else Aoki said to me about you?"

Ran licks his lips, not responding immediately. He watches you, observing your gaze fixed on the room's reflection, and takes a sip of the tea. The tea is hot and a big gulp he takes burns his throat. "This tea is delicious. Where did you get it from?" When you turn your head, and he meets your eyes - empty, sad, and meaningful - it startles him. He adds, "No, I don't want to talk about her at all."

"I'm sorry. I thought you might want to know what else she said to me." You tilt your head, offering him a smile. In this moment, you remind him of something he once lost. It's a huge relief knowing he won't ever need to search for it again. "You can stay the night if you want. You look really sleepy, Ran. It probably won't be safe for you to drive."

"Can I take a shower then?"

"Yes, and I probably have some of Rindou's sweats lying around. You can sleep in them if you'd like."

Ran chuckles, standing up. The tea is nearly finished, and his throat, still tingling from the burn, makes him aware of its warmth. "Do you have a lot of Rindou's clothes here?"

"A couple of sweatpants, t-shirts, and his contact lenses."

He nods, more to himself than to you, making a mental note  to ask his brother why he doesn't date you.

You seem like a really nice girl.

The sky is black when Ran wakes up in your bed, his arms and legs tangled in your sheets. Your scent, sweet and fresh, envelops him, and he takes a deep breath, letting the air stay in his lungs for as long as he can. He prefers his own bed with its silky appearance and soft mattress, but yours isn’t half as bad. He doesn’t regret staying.

You aren't beside him as you promised you'd be in a few hours after reading your book. You said you didn't mind sharing the same bed. You said you and Rindou always shared the bed when necessary.

You said, you said, you said.

To him, it doesn't matter much where you'd sleep – in your bed or on that monstrosity of a sofa. What matters, and stings, is that you said you would come, and you still aren't here. His eyes barely open as he shifts and turns to the right, spotting a small patch of light coming from the living room [which isn't just a living room but also a kitchen and a hallway].

Peeling the creamy comforter off himself, Ran yawns and gets up. His body, still warm from sleep, stiffens immediately when met with the cool air. The window in the room is open, and he swears under his breath, not recalling whether it was him who didn't close it or you who opened it after he fell asleep.

His feet on the wooden floor, he takes one step and then another, and soon you are before him. You stir a bit, as if annoyed by his presence, your fingers clutching the book tighter as if afraid it might be snatched away from you. Your sudden hostility doesn't deter him, and he rubs his eyes as he mumbles, his voice deep and groggy, "What time is it?"

The night is deep and dark when he notices your glossy eyes and wet cheeks. The reflection on the window, one he got used to, isn't there anymore. Only an eternal void, an absence of everything. You once told him you like black and white because they aren't really colours, because it was like they don’t even exist. He didn't retort back then, but now he knows better than that.

Black and white are the brightest, and you exist in them.

"What's wrong?" Ran suppresses another yawn. Sleep still lingers on the tip of his tongue, in the corners of his mind.

As expected, you don't say anything. You're like a statue of melted ugly wax, yet to Ran, you're incredibly beautiful.

He needs to know what upset you. [So it won’t ever again].

"Is the book sad?" he asks, sitting on the floor next to your bare legs.

"No, it's not," you whisper, closing your eyes. More tears escape, and Ran catches them with his outstretched palm. Your quivering lips and salty cheeks make you look too innocent between his hands. "I think I made it sad."

"You made it sad? How?"

"Because it's a nice book about people living their lives and being happy. But all I could think about was how mundane and ordinary it was, and I couldn't understand why they were so happy. Then I thought that I, too, lead the same life. It's a never-ending cycle of the same things." A sob tears away from your chest and comes alive. Ran's heart breaks a little. He doesn't know why. He doesn't have time to ponder why. "Ran. Am I thinking too much into it?"

"I don't think so. No." He shakes his head and, with the last wipe of his fingers across your cheeks, stands up. "Not really. But I don't think your life is all that ordinary."

"You don't think so?" You sound expectant and hopeful. His heart cracks a bit more.

"I don't think so." Gently, he takes the book from you and slips his hand into yours. Your hand is cold. "You're studying to be a professional dancer, Rin is your best friend, and that 'red guy' is almost a celebrity. And now you're going to sleep in the same bed with your best friend's brother. Now, tell me, how is this an ordinary life?"

This makes you laugh. The ice is melting, and the darkness recedes.

Soon, it will be dawn.

He helps you stand up, holding you by your hands, and together you return to the bedroom. He lets you take the side of the bed closest to the wall. You hesitate for a moment, but then you slip under the creamy blanket, your head and body disappearing beneath it. Now it's his turn to laugh. You remind him of Rindou. He used to do the same thing when he was little, back when they were poor and lived in their old apartment, sharing a bed because that and the broken table was all they had.

The memory itself isn't bad, but it's sad, and the nostalgia it carries isn't to Ran's taste. Your sheets still hold his warmth, providing a welcoming feeling. He tugs at the comforter and lifts it off you. "Don't hide. Wanna see you."

"Do you often sleep with girls?" Your cheeks are tear stained and they shine under the forgotten light of the lamp still on in the living room.

Ran turns, lying on his side to face you. Your hot breath grazes his mouth, carrying scents of cherry tea and summer and something salty. "Are you asking about sleeping as in sex, or sleeping as in just sharing a bed?"

"Sleeping as in just sharing a bed. Like what we're doing now."

He doesn't notice you reaching out to undo his braids and when he finally does, he stops breathing, taken aback by the unexpected yet pleasant sensation. He lets you continue, because, contrary to what he might expect, it feels good – almost caring – like someone finally cared enough to untie his long hair so his head wouldn't hurt in the morning.

"You'll be the first," he breathes out, his eyes half-closed as he watches your fingers dance through his hair. If not for the complete silence that reigns in your apartment, you probably wouldn't hear his words at all.

But he's mistaken, and you prove him wrong. "In moments like this, doesn't it feel like we're the only people in the world? Like it's just us and this apartment, and nothing more?"

"It does." He easily agrees.

You hum in response and he can sense that you are far far away from him, already hopping on to your next thought, pondering over something that he doesn’t understand or maybe doesn’t want to. He wants to bring you back to him, so he nuzzles into the crook of your neck, his nose grazing your sensitive skin, and your goosebumps become his. He smiles, leaving traces of his happiness – ordinary or not – on you, and you return to the real world, freed from the constraints of your mind.

"Good night, Ran. I'll make us breakfast in the morning."

"And I'll take you out for coffee after breakfast."

"Thank you."

He wants to ask what for, but the sky will soon turn blue and he doesn’t want that. He wants this night to carry on forever.

With his arms around your waist, he falls asleep.

viii.

"Hey, Rin, I've got a question, but promise me you won't get mad."

The black sports bag sitting on the unmade bed contains sneakers, two t-shirts, sweats, and a large white towel. In fifteen minutes, he should be out of the house to catch the bus to the gym and meet up with Kakucho on time. Missing the bus would mean being half an hour late. Kakucho, of course, will wait for him, but then later today he promised you he’ll take you out for ice-cream.

Unlike Kakucho, however, you wouldn't wait, and to pick you up from the dance studio on campus without delay, he couldn't afford to miss the bus that would take him to the gym.

Ten more minutes. He needs to put on his shoes.

"So?"

In the doorway to his room, leaning against the doorframe, stands Ran. He's not wearing a t-shirt, and his hair is disheveled, with a sleepy look on his annoyingly handsome face. He probably just woke up.

"What do you want?" Rindou doesn't mean to be rude, but he's in a rush, and Ran has a tendency to take his sweet time with everything.

"I told you. I have a question for you."

"Yeah? I'm listening."

Rindou zips up the bag and strides over to his brother, heading straight for the door. He grabs a pair of blue Adidas and sits on the floor to put them on. Ran follows closely behind him.

"It's about your best friend."

"What about her?" The bus, the gym, and Kakucho are forgotten. Rindou tenses up. Everything that comes out of Ran's mouth is tainted. He stares at the laces on his sneakers, hands momentarily frozen. "What do you want to know?" “Do you like her?” “Why?” Finally, Rindou raises his head up. Ran towers over him. Hands locked on his chest. Not an ounce of usual laziness in his curious waiting eyes.

"Just curious. You seem close, and she's a really nice girl. Why haven't you two started dating?"

Five more minutes. If he’d be late, you’ll mask your sadness by your anger, and the world will turn bitter.

The best option right now would be to lie to Ran. To say, I'm sorry, I'll be late. We'll talk about it later. To come up with some nonsensical excuse and make him believe it. To protect you.

Rindou does nothing of that. He sees his brother's expectant face and takes a deep breath, knowing that he'll tell the truth. He holds out his hand, and Ran reaches out to him, allowing Rindou to steady himself, pulling him to his feet.

"I wish I liked her, but I love her. And love is never simple, is it? We're better off as friends. I care about her too much to risk spoiling our friendship."

"Oh, I see." An appreciative, contented hum escapes Ran's thin lips. "Maybe you're just… Anyway, forget I asked anything. Are you going to the gym? Tell Kaku I said hello."

Maybe you just... what? But Rindou doesn't ask. He nods, waves at his brother, and with his gym bag in hand, rushes out of the house. Down the stairs and onto the street.

He watches the bus pass by a few meters away from the bus stop.

ix.

The cigarette between your fingers carries the scent of tobacco and vanilla.

You hate smoking and yet you bring the cigarette to your lips and inhale the bitter sweetness into your lungs. It awakens your cloudy mind and burns your body from the inside. You are a room full of pale smoke and hate it all you want, there’s nothing you can really do about this nasty habit of yours.

You hate dancing too and yet you dance every single day. That’s the irony of it all, you think. Being doomed to doing what you hate for the rest of your life. Making it your legacy and descending into the abyss of eternity with it.

You despise dancing at parties, yet you find yourself dancing every single day anyway. The irony isn't lost on you. Being trapped in doing something you detest for the rest of your life. Making it your legacy and descending into the abyss of eternity with it.

The music has turned down, but your head still throbs with every thought. It's painful, but this particular hurt feels borderline nice and relaxing. Almost like returning home after a long day of dance practice – utterly exhausted, yet content. You hum along to the rhythm, shifting in the corner of a bright red velvet sofa. You can't recall whose house you're in right now; it was one of Haruchiyo's friends, but he has too many for you to remember them all.

"Care to explain why the eldest Haitani can't take his eyes off you today?" Talk of the devil, and he is sure to appear. Even though Haruchiyo is more like an angel. With his sweet pink hair and easy smile, he settles on the back of the sofa, leaning against you. His voice sounds as soothing as a cat's purr. "Girls are furious with you. Overheard a few of them calling you names."

You don’t need to turn around and see his bloodshot eyes to know that he is high. Rindou, who's not in sight, is probably stoned as well. They often smoke together, and if you hadn't been late today, you might have joined them. But you're not, and it leaves you feeling incredibly sad. You hate being sober when they are not.

"Don't be silly, Haru." You extinguish the cigarette in a handcrafted clay ashtray, the color an unappealing cheap purple. Oddly, you want to take it home.

"I'm not being silly!" He whines, making an irrational turn before finally settling on the sofa next to you. Under his weight it sinks down. Suddenly, the apartment feels aged. "He's been staring at you since you arrived, and I actually spotted you two on campus the other day. What's happening between you?"

"Nothing. What could be happening between me and Ran?"

In the adjacent room – the kitchen – a bottle crashes to the ground and shatters, followed by a cacophony of loud noises. A few girls scream, their high-pitched voices drowning out the electronic music. Haruchiyo pays no attention to this minor disturbance. He slips his hand into yours, intertwining your fingers, and rests his head on your shoulder. Despite his inebriation from weed and alcohol, he smells pleasant.

"Dunno. I just wanted to warn ya to be careful, and Rin's been suspicious too.  Says Ran’s been weird about you lately."

"Oh."

People come and go, and you follow them with weary eyes, attempting to deduce how much they've had to drink or their field of study based on their attire. A silly little game to distract yourself.

You want to go home, but you can't bring yourself to leave.

"He's just hung out at my place a few times. Maybe more. And we've been hanging out, spending some time alone together. Just the two of us." You finally admit, and when Haruchiyo doesn't stop playing with your fingers, nor does he falter, you know he won't judge you.

He is your safe haven.

"Did you fuck?"

"Oh my god, Haru! No." You exclaim, and he erupts in laughter. His joyful chuckles spread happiness throughout your being.

"Rin's older brother is quite the catch. I wouldn't blame you if you did fuck him. If I were you, I definitely would've." Haruchiyo yelps when you pinch him, but then he grabs the hand you attacked him with and edges closer to you. His gray eyes soften as they meet yours. "I won't tell Rin. Don't worry."

Moments like this make you forget all the hatred, and you come to appreciate cigarettes, smoking, dancing, plum cakes, ironies, hot days, and the bitter aftermath. Most of all, you love Haru and his gentle nature. You kiss him on the nose, a small peck, an offering of lost affection. His face lights up with smiles, his cheeks flushed with either alcohol, humidity, or simply your presence.

"You're the best, Haru," you whisper to him, and he nods in response. He never accepts compliments easily. Then you add, "Let's go find Rindou. I miss him."

In the end, you don't get up from the sofa, and it's Rindou who eventually discovers you both in each other's arms.

x.

The air in the small ramen shop near Waseda University is heavy with the scent of pork broth, and Ran wrinkles his nose in disgust.

"Don't make such a face. This place has the best ramen in Shinjuku."  The machine with different water stained stickers makes a loud noise and the automat lady says something incomprehensible. Shion turns around and with a happy face shoves tickets into Ran’s chest. "I’ve gotta go take a leak or I’m pissing myself right here.”

Before Shion disappears behind a grey curtain that Ran thinks was originally white, he turns back briefly. "Kakucho should be here in about five minutes. Let him know I've already paid."

Generosity isn't exactly Shion's strong suit, but today he'd received a perfect score on one of his projects and wanted to celebrate with his favourite ramen and favourite people – or so he claimed. Ran doubted this particular ramen shop was truly Shion's favourite, but since he had said it was the best in Shinjuku and Ran was too tired to drive somewhere else, they'd settled on staying nearby. As for the sentiment, it probably wasn't genuine either.

The interior isn't crowded. A few waitresses – pretty young girls around Ran's age – and an elderly man engrossed in his newspaper occupy the space. There's a half-empty glass on his table with cloudy yellow liquid; obviously sake. Ran ponders whether he's ever drunk this early in the day, but he can't recall such a memory. He's chosen to keep a clear mind since he and Rindou have been on their own.

You never know what might happen next. And that's something Ran dislikes about life. He prefers to be in control, but with how things flow you can never be. Nothing depends solely on you.

So when the door opens, and you enter the ramen shop with Kakucho and a short girl who strongly resembles your best friend – yours and Rindou's red-haired companion – Ran's throat tightens. Conflicting emotions surge within him. On one hand, he's genuinely thrilled to see you here. When you both woke up in your apartment this morning – where he had stayed the night, once again – he hadn't had the time to take you out for coffee, and this deviation from your usual post-sleepover routine had left an aching void in his chest. [Rindou would probably say he's being overly dramatic, but fortunately, Rindou will never be privy to this particular struggle.] On the other hand, he wishes you weren't here, in this damned cramped space, where everything smells a little bit too much.

He can already envision loving stares Shion will cast upon you, and he hates it so much he wishes you'd disappear. And he wants you to stay. He wants you to consciously choose a seat next to him and he wants you to talk only to him and don’t spare a glance for anyone else.

He wants you.

The revelation dawns on him suddenly, and his eyes widen. He's surprised, and there's sadness and anger swirling within him. His heart is tender, though, as you lift your head and grace him with a small smile. He nearly forgets where he is.

"You didn't tell me Ran was here. You said we were coming to see your friends." If not for the playful undertone in your voice, someone might think you were chastising Kakucho.

"You two know each other?"

You scoff, offering Ran an amused glance. "Of course we do."

"How would she know you but not me? I should be the one surprised that you two know each other."

An unexpected edge tinges Kakucho, and he frowns, subsiding. The girl beside him bites her lip, a reproachful look in her eyes, and mumbles something Ran thankfully can't hear. But you, you smile broadly and settle into the seat next to him [just as he wanted you to]. You toss your bag at your feet and place your hand on his thigh. "I actually agree with Ran. It'd be strange for me to know you and not him. Do you know how much Rindou complains to me about him?"

Your teasing stings, and Ran rolls his eyes, playfully pinching you on the soft skin near your thumb. You squint, gritting your teeth, and he quickly presses his fingers over the irritated area, soothing the discomfort he caused. "Sorry. Didn't mean to be so harsh."

"You're insufferable. If I'd known you were here, I would've turned down Kakucho's invitation to come."

This hurts. Even as a joke it does and Ran releases your hand with a flick. "You're such a liar, ba…" A sudden cough interrupts him from adding a pet name and he frowns, turning his head to its source. It turns out to be the short blonde girl – the one he momentarily forgot was present.

"Akashi Senju," she says, offering him a small hand. "I'm her friend and Haruchiyo's sister."

"Senju also studies at Waseda, just like you. She's a first-year student," you add, grinning at your friend. "Anyway, aren't you hungry? You said you were starving."

The second you stand from your chair, Ran's mood darkens. He stares at your back, noting that you've changed since the morning, now wearing different jeans. He prefers the ones you had on earlier. These are a bit too low-rise for his taste, and the color doesn't sit right with him either. Did you practice at the studio and change into a new outfit? Or perhaps you came back home after your morning class and specifically changed for your meeting with Akashi?

"Don't bother asking me anything. I'm not in the mood," Ran says, noticing Kakucho's smug expression. "Oh, and Shion has paid for your ramen. Don't order anything."

"I wasn't planning to."

To what Kakucho is referring is a mystery Ran won’t entertain himself solving. For now, he has another thing to settle and that thing is his own melting heart.

He knocks on your door that same evening after dropping you out just hours before. The ride home from the ramen shop was silent for most part and your home was the first stop. He didn’t say goodbye as you silently closed the door wishing to see everyone soon again. And he didn't allow himself a pleasure of a biting remark – one that had been simmering on his tongue since Shion let out an unnecessary whistle upon meeting you – to slip and pierce through his friend. 

Both boys and the Akashi girl had asked to be dropped off at Nakano Station, which was relatively close to your apartment. Ran hadn't argued and hadn't offered anything in response. He is a mess and all he needs to calm down is you and your annoyingly good cherry tea. You made it every single time he was over.

So when he knocks on your door carrying two bags with a chicken logo – from a small restaurant he spotted on his way back that claimed to serve the best karaage – and a box full of glazed donuts from an American coffeehouse chain, he hopes you'll allow him another cup of tea.

"I knew you'd come," you say, stepping aside to let him in. "What did you bring? Oh! I love that place! Give me that, and go sit down. I'll grab the plates and everything."

But he doesn't sit. He follows you into the kitchen, observing as you tear into the bags, too impatient to untie knots. He smiles at your little quirks and habits. By now, he believes he knows you well. All the small details, bumps and preferences that are arranged in such a way, they make you. You are a thousand myriads of memories, of happiness and of never ending dark night and he wants to conquer every single one.

He wants you.

When you reach for two plates, he steps closer and wraps his arms around you, his hands over yours, he guides them to your chest. In this close proximity, he can smell the lingering fragrance of your shower gel and soap on your skin. He traces his lips over the damp skin of your neck, planting a soft kiss just under your ear.

"Were you planning on going out today?" he asks, not moving a single centimetre away. "You smell so good."

"No. I told you I knew you'd drop by, so I took a shower earlier. You always look so bored when I leave you alone while I'm showering."

He smiles into your skin and playfully nips it, licking the pain away immediately. He wants you, and he wants you to know it. He wants everyone else to know that you're wanted by him too. A purple mark blooms on your skin, and you tremble, your hands gripping his arms.

"Why are you so good to me? For me," he leans his head on yours and kisses the crown of your head, pulling you even closer to him. 

"Ran."

"Tell me."

You wait a second. Two. Three. More. Your breath quickens and he feels your heart pounding against his own, and he closes his eyes in an attempt to steady himself, to find some stability amidst the chaos that is you.

Somehow, he senses that whatever you're about to say won't be pleasant, which is perhaps why he doesn't rush you or urge you to continue. Instead, he litters your head and neck with kisses, communicating his love.

"You don't really like me, Ran, do you? You like Aoki."

Your  fingers are entwined with his, and he can't recall who initiated it. You or him.

"Bullshit. I barely remember her most days until you bring her up. Just what did she tell you? We never had anything going on."

"Maybe. But you don't like me. You like her, and that's why we shouldn't."

His kisses come to a halt. He gently turns you around to face him, searching your face. You don't appear sad or disappointed or disheartened. Maybe a little flustered and your eyes shine a different way. He cups your face in his hands, his thumbs caressing your cheeks.

"Bullshit."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

"You're a terrible liar, Ran."

He scoffs. "I'm not. I am a good liar, but I am not lying to you when I say I want you. I need you. You are the one for me." "Then can we agree on one thing, Ran?" You take the hair ties out of his braids, your fingers deftly working to undo them.

"Anything you want."

"If we do this, can we agree not to kiss? At least until you figure out how you truly feel about me."

"That's ridiculous. What else? Should I take you from behind so we don't have to see each other's faces?" He is irritated, but not mad. Yet.

"Don't be crude. No, I just don't want to kiss you when you have feelings for someone else. I don't want to get too attached. I don’t kiss people without feelings." Your hands run through his hair, and he melts into the sensation. You're his solace, his sanctuary. He can't understand how you fail to see that.

"Please, Ran. It's more for me than for you, and I'm sorry."

He sighs, his thumb brushing over your lips. He had been looking forward to kissing you. Ran loves to kiss. But patience is often rewarded, right? Or something along those lines. It doesn't matter.

One day, he's sure he'll get to kiss you. He knows it.

"It's stupid, but alright. I'll kiss you when I'm certain I love you," he says, pressing his lips to the soft skin of your forehead. "I don't understand why I can't kiss you now, though, but anything for you. If it will make you feel better then okay.”

I'll do anything for you.

Damp beige sheets are scattered in the corner of the room near the door. The entire space is filled with the scent of sex and the nighttime city, and Ran never wants to leave. He feels at home.

His grey t-shirt you are wearing stands out on the clean black sheets you spread out a little before. You're lying on the bed with your limbs stretched out, your body still sensitive and trembling. The pose reminds him of starfish, and he bites back a laugh, his eyes twinkling with delight.

"Ran!" You roll your head to the side, propping yourself up and adjusting the pillow on the headboard to make yourself comfortable. You do the same for him, and his heart swells, yet again, for what feels like the millionth time and beyond this evening. "Are you laughing at me?"

"No. Why would I?" He places two bowls of karaage and rice – one for each of you – on the bed and slides under the blanket. Your bare thigh brushes against his hip. He isn’t wearing much. Just his boxers. And if he isn’t mistaken you too aren’t wearing anything except for his t-shirt.

“Don't know. You were just all smiles when I turned my head.”

He doesn’t grace you with a response, because just for this once he wants you to find the answer yourself. He wants you to read it in the depths of his eyes, in the creases that form beneath them, and in the glow of his lips. Lips you didn't get to kiss today. The chicken and rice are cold, but the food is still good and he has been starving ever since he got up from the bed and took you to the shower. You had been hazy and sensitive, his cum on your thighs and belly, and when the water was hitting your body it seemed like it was hurting you more than bringing you relief. He asked you if it was true, but you just nudged him closer, holding him close with your arms tightly wrapped around his waist. He'd carefully washed you clean.

"What's on your mind, Ran?" you ask, your chopsticks poised between your fingers. "Oh, wait, don't tell me. Let me guess."

As you contemplate your guess, your eyes scrutinize his face, and he notices  every small change it makes.. How your lips quiver after you lick them clean. How your eyes narrow as you attempt to focus on him. How you fidget with the wooden chopsticks, transferring them from one hand to the other. How you look flushed and innocent and so incredibly young and beautiful. How you now forever have him as a part of you. 

You sigh, your shoulders rising and falling gently. Your bowl is only half-empty, and he guesses that you probably aren’t the type to get hungry after sex. "Are you thinking about sex? Or maybe Rindou? Oh, no, wait! Maybe you're craving that dessert you love. What was it called? Rindou once made me get it for you because he said you were mad at him and it was the only thing that could save his life."

"How do Rin, sex, and my favorite dessert all fit together?" Ran sets his now-empty bowl aside and takes yours, which you kindly offer him to finish. "It doesn't really make sense."

"Your expression. You looked like you were thinking about something you really eally love."

So fucking innocently curious. So naively observant. So so so. Ran tries to grab what arises in his chest and what burns his throat, but he can’t, so he swallows and reaches out for you instead. Nestled in his arms, you fit perfectly, and he nuzzles his nose in your neck, which now carries the scent of him. He's never shared this level of intimacy with the girls he's been with before, but with you, it's different. With you, he can sense his imprints all over your body, just as he knows you've marked yourself onto him.

"Could you make me some of that cherry tea in the morning?" he murmurs into your skin. He senses a slight flinch as you're tickled, and to make amends, he places a soft little kiss there.

Your embrace tightens around him. "Were you thinking about my cherry tea?"

"Well, if you put it that way... yeah, I guess I was. Will you make it for me when we wake up?"

In this moment, in your bed, bodies entwined under warm blankets, Ran lies to you for the first time. And you both understand he's doing so. You both know he wasn't really thinking about cherry tea, but rather you.

And yet, no matter how terrifying it is, you comply, you choose to believe him and say, "Yeah, I will. Of course I will."

xi.

Rindou has a suspicion you are hiding something from him and he is determined to find out what. He is all in for secrets and mysteries, but not from you. When it comes to you he is greedy and he wants to know everything. So if you get hurt he will know whom to punch and what words to say to make the wound they inflicted upon you sting less.

Rindou, who has always been protected by Ran, loves to be protective of you. It’s a self-assigned role of a big brother he never was to anyone that he cherishes too much. But no matter how many times he has hinted - too bluntly - for you to pour your heart out to him, you simply don’t say what he wants to hear. He gets desperate and when one day he is high with Sanzu in his apartment, he asks him if he noticed it too. Your strange behaviour and how lately you’ve been smelling different. Like something too familiar and close to him.

In his typical manner, Sanzu laughs it off. He promises Rindou that there’s nothing to worry about, cause if you’d wanted to tell them you would’ve. And if not, then you will tell them later. You all are best friends and you will be so until the end of your days. A little trust, Rin, never hurt anybody.

There’s nothing left for him, but to agree, and yet the smell on your skin stays and in the next days all Rindou can is to get familiar with it since now it’s part of you.

The rumours that you slept with a college professor for the main stage in the showcase spreads around not so long after.

Rindou punches a guy who he overhears saying it in the cafeteria and almost gets detention for breaking university’s principles. But it doesn’t stop him from beating that guy up again. This time he is smarter. He does it outside of the school.

Knuckles bloody and torn he feels alive.

He isn’t that much surprised when he finds out it was Aoki who started this nasty lie about you.

After all, you’ve always been rivals.

“That was stupid, Rin.” You murmur sitting on the floor of their apartment. His hand rests in yours, a warm dead weight. The cotton ball soaked with vodka - they didn’t have any first aid kit at home - glides across his scraped skin. Despite you speaking gently, your movements are precise and harsh. You obviously are a bit mad or maybe sad and worried. “You know I don’t care what they say.” The alcohol stings his skin more than your words. He closes his eyes. “But I do. I can’t just brush it off if they call my best friend a whore right to my face.” 

“He didn’t see you,” you observe, quickly glancing at him, before returning to your task. 

“What a pity.” “Will he live?” you tear the gauze in two and wrap it around Rindou’s knuckles tying in with a pretty bow. He thinks it’s a bit excessive and he doesn’t really need something to cover up the wound, but he lets you tend to him. He likes it a bit too much to deny it. 

The water in the bathroom stops running and for a second it’s eerily quiet in the apartment. The only noise comes from honking cars - might be someone parking for too long - and people loudly laughing right under their building - might be a student couple that rents a flat above Haitani’s. Life never stops even when it stills for you. The world is wheeling around and around and around.

"What's with the hospital? What happened?" Veiled by his thoughts Rindou doesn’t notice his brother coming out of the bathroom. With Ran beside you looking at his hands, the world speeds up; Rindou subconsciousness suffers. “Hey, Rin! What happened?”

Without your permission he can’t tell the truth. He won’t dare to spill that ugly rumour about you and he won’t - everything inside him riot against this nasty lie - even say it outloud if you don’t want him to. Even to his brother. 

Rindou’s loyalty is his doom. “Rindou fought the guy who he caught saying I slept with mister Okamoto for the main role in the showcase.” There’s not a hinge of bitterness or resentment in you as you answer Ran’s question. 

Rindou wants to smack you.  He wants you to be more serious about yourself. He hates that you aren’t and he is surprised when Ran is. 

“Why would someone say that about you?” 

“Jealousy, I guess. It’s going to be the second year I am the lead.” You stand up from the floor and take the open bottle of vodka along with the remaining gauze and cotton balls to the kitchen. “Honestly, Ran, it’s just a stupid rumour. Why even bother? People are gonna talk anyway.”

“No. If we’ll make them, they won’t,” Ran retorts, going after you and Rindou can’t help, but turn around and peek out from the corner to get a better view. “Don’t roll your eyes at me. I am being serious. Don’t let them come at you for something you didn’t do.”

“Yeah. You worked hard to be the lead. Don’t let them take it away from you.”

The simple truth is the hardest to swallow, and you almost crumble under its pressure. It's obvious to Rindou that you didn't like what the wind was carrying around the university's halls. Maybe it really didn't bother you that much, but it still soured your sweet success. He wished he could've helped before blood needed to be spilled. Because now, Rindou isn't sure if his warmth and care can make you feel better. What is left for you is to wrap his hands in gauzes and share the warmth of your existence.

And so he raises to his feet, to catch you one more time, to not let tears stain your cheeks and your heart.

“Oh, no, no.” It’s Ran. He reaches for your face and cups your cheeks between his palms, his big fingers erasing fat tears from your skin. He coos at you, eyes searching for you. “You know what? I don’t want to see you cry, and I bet Rin doesn’t want to see you cry either. But it’s okay if you want to. I won’t stop you. So cry all you want, and then I’ll take you to that restaurant I told you about. Alright? I am going to blow dry my hair, and we are good to go. Okay?”

Frozen, near the kitchen countertop stands Rindou. He takes his glasses off and wipes them with the hem of his shirt. He doesn’t dare to look at you, and besides, he isn’t even sure if he will see you. Your presence isn’t for him, and maybe it never was. Maybe he was never that important in your life; only a connecting chain to something bigger than him.

He can’t find you.

“I am sorry,” you whisper when Ran is gone to his room and your eyes are almost dry.

Rindou frowns. There’s no reason for you to apologize to him, and yet he leans into you, his forehead burrowing at your shoulder. “Whatever you say or do is okay. Remember? We accept each other as we are. You don’t have to pretend to be someone else around me.”

“I love you, Rindou.” Again, it’s a whisper, a small meaningful promise. “I love you so so much.”

“I know.” He laughs, suddenly uncomfortable and very shy. That new foreign smell of yours hits his nose and Rindou inhales it fully, filling his lungs with it and a realisation comes at him so simple, he thinks he knew it from the beginning. The shock he imagined he would go through isn’t here. Nothing is. Just acceptance and your detachedness in which he loses himself. You smell like his brother. Like Ran. You’ve been for a while. He wraps his arms around your waist and holds you closer. His hands don't hurt him anymore. 

xii.

His fingers are warm on the gentle skin of your hips, and every little caress feels like millions of kisses planted straight to your heart.

Girls in your university and mutual friends through Rindou who slept with Ran had the tendency to discuss him in bed, and besides claiming that he always knew what he was doing and how he should do it, they always mentioned him being exceptionally rough. He never stayed at your place for a night, never brought you to his apartment in Roppongi (everyone assumed it was their mutual agreement with Rindou), and never slept with the same girl twice. Never. Never. Never. There were too many rules and details for you to remember. Laying under him on his bed in his room you would swear they all were liars.

Running your fingers through his long hair and combing them behind his ears so they won’t tickle you falling onto your face, you moan from the burning pleasure that never left you from the moment Ran declared he wanted you.

Slow, but powerful rolls of his hips catch you off guard - they always do - and you tug at his hair a bit too harshly. His face comes closer to yours and your naked chest touches his, he brushes against your hard nipples, and with pure curiosity and pleasure watches you close your eyes, back detaching your body from the damp sheets. It’s like you want to be closer to him. Like you run into his arms; into him.

[He accepts you.] He welcomes you.

The exposed marked skin of your neck comes into his vision and he leans down to kiss you there. Mark it again. Purple on purple. More purple. You and him are the same colour. 

His breathy whispers burn like holy oil. Something sacred that was never meant to be shared with anyone else. “So good for me, baby. Always good. It’s you. Only you for me. Right, baby? I am yours. Oh God, I am yours, baby.”

More confessions. More promises. More spilled love.

With you Ran is always tender. He always eats you out - despite you not wanting to, since you say it’s like a kiss, too intimate - and he always stretches you before he puts his cock inside you so it won’t hurt you. He always listens to your needs, without you voicing them out even once. And after you are done you both eat and talk and laugh, and then go at it again. 

After the fifth time you are sure that Ran Haitani never fucked you, but made love to you. And it was not in the tempo or poses he had you in or where you had sex or if he initiated it or you or how many times you both finished or many other stupid reasons. No. It was in his touches, his words, his smiles, his laughs, his gestures, his eyes and how soft they were right after or sometimes in the moment.

It was in his being and how you both felt around each other. 

Today, when Ran cums, your lower part warm with it, he crushes you with his body. You stroke his toned shoulders and back. It’s not just his hair that gets your attention. It’s every part of his body. You love to please him too. His breath is hot against your ear shell, and you squirm, grazing your nails against his tattooed skin. He winces, but laughs, detaching himself from you.

“I am so spent,” he confesses, yawning and you giggle at this natural confirmation from his body. “Do you wanna take a nap? We can order something later or go out. I wouldn’t mind having shabu-shabu. Whatcha think?”

You bite your lip, pretending to consider his offer, when in reality you already know you’ll agree and now you are just taking him in. Ran is very beautiful. Womanly pretty.

"Yeah, okay. Sounds good."

Before Ran rolls to his side, he kisses you in the corner of your lips and then up your face to your brows. Never on your lips. Because you asked and he promised. Genuine content smile brightens up your drown in pleasure face.

"You know," he muses, "I like your red-haired friend more now."

You laugh, immediately understanding what he meant by that and as if the sound of your laugh is an alarm for his need to be close to you, Ran shifts closer to you, bringing you too, flash against his naked body. Skin to skin.

"His hair is pink, and his name is Haruchiyo. But you always say his hair is red. It's kind of funny," you murmur, closing your eyes. Your body is too sensitive for you to move much without feeling the never ending hunger for Ran, but you still do and you gasp, your palms gripping onto his shoulders. 

He smirks and lets you nuzzle your head in the crook of his neck. You kiss him there.

"Yeah, Haruchiyo. Next time, I'll pay him myself to take Rin to Hakone. For a whole week. Anyway, let's sleep. I want to make you feel good again when we wake up. Do you want me to wake you up with my fingers or my mouth? You seem like you need it. You are so fucking sensitive everytime we have sex. It’s like I am your first and you never had decent co…”

"Rude, Haitani," you slap his back. Gently. "So rude."

Silence settles over the room and your breaths even out. You think he has fallen asleep. His chest rising up and down. His body is warm and solid and heavy next to yours. Your fingers continue their dance across his nape.

"But you still like me, right? Rude or not?" He asks, his voice a bit clearer than before, and you know that he has been thinking about this all this time.

Without a delay or hesitation, you speak. "Yes, I do. Rude or not."

Again, he doesn’t reply back and after an unknown amount of lost time, you understand that he indeed has fallen asleep. You follow him right after, thinking that maybe his question was more serious than you initially thought it was.

xiii.

The plans for Rindou’s surprise birthday party were made in advance in the kitchen of your apartment.

For the first time in four years that you’ve become a part of Rindou’s life, Ran lets you both - you and Haruchiyo - to play a part in the arranging of the birthday party for his brother. He does it because of you, of course. Another reason is knowing that Rindou will be very pleased and happy. Unlike Ran, Rindou likes surprises. It was your idea to veil every little preparation, location and guest list with exciting secrecy. Both boys [under an insane amount of pressure] promised you to not even speak of the upcoming birthday to Rindou. Let alone spill any details or hints about the party. 

Just a few days before it Haruchiyo however sitting in the cafeteria accidentally mentioned to Rindou that the colour of banana milk reminded him of kitchen countertops in the house Ran rented for the surprise party. He was saying it with a huge smile on his face that quickly faded when he realised what he said. You - who obviously had a huge soft stop for Haruchiyo - didn’t even get mad at him. You all laughed it off and Rindou asked no questions, appreciating your efforts. 

"Can you believe it?" Happy Birthday Rindou garland shimmers in your hands. You tape the second end of it to the wall and lean back, looking at it, trying to see if it’s even. It’s the fifth time now and Ran slowly loses his patience. He doubts Rindou would notice if it declines for one degree. “I thought you would be the one who would uncover us.”

The ladder echoes a clunking sound as you come down. You fall right into Ran’s arms who were steading it for you the whole time, hands gripping the metal so you didn’t fall. He is surprised. “Me? Why? You know I am actually good at keeping secrets.”

“I know you are.” Hands on your chest, you squint at the wall, overlooking the garland. Your expression is hard and serious and no matter how much Ran tries to decipher it he can’t. Silently, he prays you won’t readjust it yet again. He is getting tired and he still needs to fill the fridge with beers and what else alcohol he bought. There were also snacks and fairy lights to be taken care of. At least, all the vases and unnecessary fragile decorations were already sitting in the storage. 

“Does it look good?” Ran asks, hopefully. “To me it seems fine. From where I stand. But it seemed fine the second time too. Maybe you just should draw a huge line with a pencil on the wall so you could see where you should hang it. Or you know what? Rindou will be fine without garland. He’ll live. It’s not like he knows we were gonna hang it.”

The silence on your end is scaring him. Is this stupid garland really so uneven? He steps in front of you and scrutinizes the wall. Everything is perfect. The colorful "Happy Birthday Rindou" written on the beige wall looks fine; the tape is not visible and every letter is as neat as it could be. When the silence stretches, he groans and grabs hold of the ladder. The metal is warm under his palms from how long he has been holding it.

“Ran.” He feels your lovely hands and you pressed to him before he registers you calling his name. All frustration and tiredness are exterminated from him, thrown out of the window the second you open your mouth.

"Mhm?"

The softness of your body melts into his existence and he cranes his neck at the angle where he can see you.

Your eyes are already waiting for him and he is met with so much tenderness and endearment and fondness he resists the urge to kiss you and it’s the worst fight he’s ever been into.

His body is bruised and ugly. He is losing.

“The garland is fine.”

“Is it?” The sudden eagerness in his voice makes you giggle. He giggles with you. “I expect the same garland for my birthday. You’ve got to put Rin through the same shit as me.”

“Do you want us to rent you a house too?”

He hums, thinking of an answer. His fingers slip between yours. “Yeah. Two floors, and I want the backyard facing the ocean. A pool is a must, too. Oh! And the guest list? I’ll make it myself. Rin would invite people I dislike just to annoy me.”

“Deal.” A wet touch of your lips encourages shivers. His eyelids tremble as he closes his eyes, losing himself in your affection. You press another kiss under his ear and then on his jaw, only to move to his cheeks, and then to the corner of his lips.

His only instinct is to follow you, lean into you, reach out to you and for a second his lips are on yours, but you move away and he curses. Turning around, Ran pushes you towards the huge oak table and you comply, jumping on it. Your legs are spread for him and yet you push him away when he grabs the hem of your shirt. 

Your palm on his chest he hopes you can feel how his heart reacts to you. And as if you do - or maybe it’s something else, Ran hopes it’s something else, something sweet and precious where you can’t deny him - your open palm turns into fist and you bring him closer. You pepper his face with small kisses and it’s embarrassing for him to think how happy he gets, how you can ask of him anything now and he will do it. Be it steading the ladder for you or bringing you hot gazing stars from outer space. 

“You are so lovely, Ran.” 

Oh God. 

“Anything for you. Lovely, gentle, harsh, rude… yours. However, you'll want me.”

There’s a known firefly in your eyes and he holds your face. At this point you are just staring at each other, searching for answers or commuting without words. Or maybe both. “Yeah. I like it all. Remember? I’ve told you before.” “Say it again, then. I like hearing it.” And you do. I like you. I like you. I accept you, Ran. I like you. I like you. I like you. 

Pink looks pretty on you and Ran knows it. 

You sway with his younger brother in the middle of the huge living room of the rented house for which Ran paid a bit too much [but you were so adamant it was perfect and Rindou would absolutely love it so he couldn’t say no] and laugh. Your head thrown back, you hold hands with Rindou as he swirls you around, careful to not let go of you. 

You are the centre of this party and Ran’s attention. 

The beer in his cup is still cold and he sips on it watching you having the time of your life celebrating the existence of his little brother. The fact that you so dearly love and care for Rindou touches Ran’s heart more than it should, but it does and it warms the world around him. He tries to remember if someone from his own friends has this much love for him as you do for Rindou and suddenly he can’t name a single one. It’s a moment of loneliness and fear. Ran can deal with both, because he will always have Rin and Rin will always have you. So it’s fine. Everything is fine and the party goes smoothly just like you planned it. There’s enough food and alcohol and people who are here are the ones Rindou is happy to see. All his previous birthdays - and Ran’s too - they celebrated at clubs. Tones of booz, weed and girls never made Rindou smile as brightly as he did through the whole evening and well into the night. There was something alluring in intimacy that Ran never felt or noticed before and that he waited all his life to learn through you. 

So he drinks a bit more and watches you dance in your pink croco trousers and he knows you look unbelievably good. So good all he wants now is to get you in his car and drive you far far far away where no one could take you from him. For good measure he’ll lock you in the house [of his heart]. The keys will be thrown away with eyes closed so even he wouldn’t know where to look for them. No escape from this dream land of his. Forever imprisoned the two of you. 

It gets hard to breathe as if Ran is the one to dance and laugh. Leaving his unfinished beer on the table, Ran goes outside. He catches Kakucho’s questioning gaze on him, but mouths a simple ‘i am fine’ and then he is all alone again.

It’s chilly outside. The night sky is clouded and no stars can be seen from the porch. Two houses down there’s another party. Music travels this short distance, but as if there’s an invisible divider, it stops exactly in the middle and never touches their own music. Ran can clearly hear both songs and this alone creates a peculiar sense of detachment. It’s like he is here and then it’s like he never was and never would be.  Much to his displeasure it’s not you who finds him there. He didn’t even know he was waiting for you until viscous regret filled his lungs and the disappointment rested in his chest. He might have been scowling because the girl before him looked, if not scared, confused for sure. 

“Don’t say you don’t remember me.” The girl is beautiful, and Ran thinks he saw her at your university. She steps closer and brings her face right to his, her brown eyes waiting for recognition, but when even proximity doesn’t ring a bell, she pouts. “What they say about you is right. You never called me back.”

Oh. That’s why she looked familiar. Ran has slept with her. He gives her a dead stare, not in the mood to make a joke out of it. He turns his back on her. “Well, I never call anyone back. It’s always a one-time thing.”

He expects the girl to be offended or for the poison of humiliation to spread through her veins, but obviously, none of it happens. Instead, she pulls out a pack of cigarettes and leans on the wooden rails, overlooking the empty night street. “It’s stupid, but I thought I might be good enough for you to change your mind,” the girl giggles. She lights a cigarette for herself and doesn’t offer one to Ran. “But you don’t even remember me. You don’t, do you?”

“No. I don’t.” There’s no point in lying, and Ran doesn’t care if he hurts her. She’s been hurt before and she will be after this insignificant encounter.

“Do you wanna fuck now?” The answer is immediate and it’s the same as before. “No. I don’t.” 

“Not with me?” Lit cigarette between her fingers stands out on a stormy night sky. 

“No. Not with you.” 

The cloud of smoke escapes the girl's mouth and Ran stares at it for a bit, trying to remember how it tasted when he kissed her. But he can’t. It’s not her mouth that he sees, but an empty place. It’s scary. 

You and your crucifying rule that broke his bones everytime he was with you made kisses mean a lot and dissolved those that he shared before into drivel. They didn’t mean anything. 

Ran never remembered his first kiss. 

He guesses it happened when he was thirteen with a girl that was much older. It probably was a bet. 

The butt of the cigarette with dark stains from the girl’s lipstick is pressed against the wooden floor. The light dies. “You look awfully sick with love, Ran Haitani. It does suit you, though. Your eyes look more alive. Usually, they were like you just murdered someone. It’s scary.”

Fat raindrops hit the pavement and soon the world around is speaking. Ran can’t tell what it’s trying to say, but his heart tells him it is a premonition. A little prophecy, because what is born meaningless has a tendency to die as the most important thing. 

But of course, there are exceptions. 

There are memories, people and webs that were and always would have the dearest place in Ran’s heart. There is you and there was Aoki Ogura and now next to him is the girl he had slept with once and doesn’t even remember. There is the smell of rain and a few seconds ago there was a lit cigarette, the fire of it now dead. It’s a birthday party of his little brother, his only family, and it’s a day when Ran realises some things aren’t our choices, but are chosen for us. 

No matter how much we want, we can't change them, because just for once it didn’t happen because of us, but because of who we are.  The rain intensifies. Chills creep under Ran’s thin grey blouse. Are your pink trousers and white tee keeping you warm enough? He desperately needs to know. Now. 

“What’s your name?” Ran is at the door. His hand lies on the handle.

The girl raises her hands in the air, gasping. She pretends to be offended. In reality, she isn’t. There’s not a tinge of sadness in her. “It’s Hatsu Ikazuchi.”

The beginning of thunder. How fortunate. How coincidentally amusing and pretty. Life is full of wonders. The door behind Ran softly closes. Rain and storms stay on the other side.

xiv.

The second Rindou accidentally learns about the party, he knows it was your idea. 

When he steps out of the car and sees the prettiest house he knows it was you who chose it. The small hidden alley where it stands and green pots with pink flowers are definitely what made the cut for you. And then, when he enters the house and everyone screams happy birthday Rindou, and he shushes them so he can greet every single person there, he knows it was you who decided who should be invited.

It’s the same with the cake that you bring out to the living room singing-whispering his favourite song, instead of the classical happy birthday one. He knows it was you who ordered it and decided on the fillings. You hold it before him, a huge happy smile on your pretty face, and he closes his eyes to make a wish before he blows off the candles. Ran stands behind you, his chin on your shoulder watching his brother, but Rindou barely notices this unusual proximity. He only sees the fairy lights and decorations.

He knows it was all your doings too.

He is happy and he is loved and he drowns in your love the whole evening and well into the night.

He only loses you right after the clock strikes two when Haruchiyo finds him and urges him to smoke. They share a joint on the second floor in the bathroom. And even in the state Rindou is in now, he thinks about you. How you’d be mad if you were to find them smoking in this enclosed space without a window. How you’d scold them like you always do and say that weed smells disgusting. How you’d still slide down the door and sit on cold tiles with them, breathing smoke from it into your lungs, intoxicating yourself to the maximum. You’d laugh and smile looking at them both, your best friends, and in those moments everything in the world would be right. 

High as kite - because it’s a special birthday joint, claims Haruchiyo - from half of the cigarette and drunk on God knows how many beers and two cocktails with an unknowing mix of alcohol in each, Rindou stumbles down the stairs. Haruchiyo follows suit. With mouths dry as parchment they go into the kitchen where they gulp down two bottles of water, one and a half litre each. 

The thirst subsides and they giggle, finding the situation funny. The party carries on and so does the fun. Behind the veil of smoke and fog and fun everything [and everyone] seems brighter - happier - than they really are. Weed is better than alcohol, but both of it mixed together is a devastating cocktail of unknown feelings and emotions, so bright and positive, Rindou wants to stay in this superficial land forever. 

But the effect will wear out with time and nothing but sadness and regret will stay. And when Rindou will wake up in the morning, he will be grumpy and untalkative and borderline aggressive, angry thoughts swarming inside his pounding head. He might throw up or he might not and when this state too will pass, for there is nothing permanent, he will wonder if sadness and hostility is all he has. This eats Rindou alive. 

But there is still time till this terrifying clarity. 

For now everything is blurry. And he is happy. He allows himself to be. 

A very gracious birthday present. 

Together, with Haruchiyo they find you in the company of Senju, Ran and his friends. In the midst of loud music and the smell of alcohol, your small circle gives the impression of a cold calm island, warm to its habitants and cold to intruders. There’s an effortless conversation that flows between you all. He has no idea what it is you are talking about, but it must be something very interesting to each of you, because your eyes sparkle and everyone speaks almost at the same time, contributing to the discussion. 

A deep gut feeling of being unwanted washes over him and Rindou’s body is sticky, clothes too close to skin. Blood pumps loudly in his head and for a second or two all he hears is a stretching white noise. It calls out for him, forms a message, something so important and crucial, but it disappears before Rindou can decipher the meaning behind its static nature. And then, his brain overwhelmed and tired, his being happy and loved, he thinks that maybe some things aren’t worth reading into. Maybe it all happens just because and maybe nothing has any sacred meaning. 

Maybe living in the absence of all is easier and maybe that’s what Rindou chooses in the moment Senju spots them and waves her hand urging them to join your company.  

“My favorite birthday boy!” You exclaim, stretching your hands toward him. He accepts your invitation and dives into your arms, stumbling over his unstable feet. He falls face down onto the sofa, and Senju, who had been sitting next to you, groans and moves to the floor. But she doesn’t say anything to him because today is his birthday, and he is allowed a little more than he usually is.

“Am I really your favourite?” Rindou asks, his tongue loose from the effects of alcohol. His head rests on your shoulder, and he tilts his head to take a good look at you. You are a bit drunk yourself. Your eyes are only half-opened, and you look undeniably sexy and warm. “Tell me the truth.”

You squint your eyes, pretending to think, and he whines at you, causing you to laugh. He is happy with himself because of that. He is even happier when you ruffle his hair and whisper to him, "You are. Even when you reek of weed and beer." You lick your lips before you continue, a bit more serious than before. "Even if you find yourself a pretty girl and dump me because she's going to be jealous of us."

"No one's gonna date us with you in the picture, baby. Honestly?" Haruchiyo chimes in. He sits on the floor next to Kakucho, opposite you. Only when you and Rindou turn your heads his way, your attention fully on him, does he continue speaking. "Even I feel jealous of you, and I'm a part of our threesome."

The interrogation on Rindou’s behalf falls short at that and you slump into scolding Haruchiyo for his poor choice of words to describe your friendship. You argue, as you usually do, because obviously to Haruchiyo the threesome sounds okay and he even claims he heard someone at university refer to your trio using it and he in fact is not the one who came up with it. At that you gasp and a sound too similar to a sad wolf howl comes out of your throat. 

"Actually, you know what I always wanted to ask?" Interrupts Shion. He is taking the first long drag from his cigarette. The smell of smoke that hits Rindou’s nostrils almost immediately indicates that they are cherry-flavored. It's quite a strange choice on Shion's side, if you were to ask Rindou. "How did you all meet? You are super close. I’ve been looking at you today, and if Ran hadn’t told me before that you are seeing someone, I would’ve thought you are dating our birthday boy."

All attention has you as the centre and for a split moment Rindou is sober. All haze and blurriness swept away leaving the palace for stunning clarity. But he feels how tense your limp body gets and he sees his brother who sits at your feet with your left leg thrown over his shoulder, laying his head on your thigh. Ran smirks as he waits for your answer, but he knows his brother the best, so the sweet tender expectancy doesn’t go unnoticed. Nor does the gentle caressing of his fingers around your ankle. 

“We actually met through Haru, who I knew because I am friends with Senju. We went to the same high school.”

Shion nods. He brings a bottle of sui-umeshu to his lips and, not taking his eyes away from you, takes a large sip. When he is done, the sweet liquor swallowed, he asks you, "Why is your boyfriend not here?"

"He isn't my boyfriend yet. We are still figuring it all out," you retort. You tilt your head to the side and playfully smile at Shion. "And just why are you so interested in him?"

“I am not interested in him. I am interested in you.” 

"Oh," the smile is gone from your face and you stare at Shion as if you are seeing him for the very first time. "Thank you."

The rest of the night is spent almost quietly. You dance some more. You drink and Haruchiyo smokes again. This time with Senju on the damp porch. The rain that Rindou never acknowledged has stopped. The air now is cold and crispy. It finally feels like winter is just around the corner. 

The golden light of sunrise adorns the living room, building an illusion of it being way more spacious and bigger than it really is. Rindou can barely stand on his own feet. He so desperately needs to go to bed and sleep until it’s well after noon. And yet, he comes to a halt when he hears your quiet laughing and Ran’s murmuring. Through the buzzing in his head he can’t hear what you are talking about, and even if he wants to eavesdrop, he won’t. He respects you and he respects his brother. He respects his loving touches and he respects your choice. So, he goes straight into the kitchen and the first thing he sees is not your blood splashed across your white t-shirt in bright stains, but Ran’s gentle moves when he wipes your face. Come to think of it, his brother was always like that around you. Curious and tender even in anger. The softness doesn’t evaporate from Ran when he looks up and sees his brother standing in the arc that connects the living room and kitchen. 

"Did you get the nosebleed again?" The house is silent, so Rindou’s voice echoes through it like a bell in the middle of a field.

Somehow, Rindou imagines it’s sunny there in that field of his despite dark heavy clouds hanging low in the sky. It’s going to rain, but before it will, there will be a thunderstorm. This time Rindou is going to be there to see it. 

“Yeah. Don’t worry though. I am just tired. That’s all.” 

Contradiction arises in him and guilt fills his throat to the brim. He can’t say anything so he just stares at the white wet towel  in Ran’s hands. Its twisted tip all red and pulpy. Behind you, on the beige plain wall, is a garland. It says “Happy Birthday Rindou”. He wants to take it home with him and put it under his bed, in his heart, to store it there forever as a reminder that someone cares for him. [Always will]. 

There are so many words and confessions he desires to share with you, but instead, he says, “I am going to sleep. Can we go for yakitori when I wake up? I just know I am gonna be starving.”

“Nankotsu or tebasaki?” Suddenly excited, you turn your head toward him.

“Both?” “Fuck, I love you so much, Rindou! You are the best!” “I know. I know. I love me too.” 

“Okay you all enough with love. Let’s take your makeup off too, while I am at it. Now, look at me.” Without anything to say Rindou leaves. He goes upstairs and without taking a shower goes straight to his makeshift bed for today. He is sharing a room with Kakucho who is already asleep. His light snores break the solemnity of the room.

Undressed, in his boxers, Rindou comes up to the window that overlooks the neighbour's patio. Classic Japanese garden stares back at Rindou and he tries hard to remember when was the last time he saw one. He can’t. It’s a bit sad. He finds himself liking the moss, the rocks and those pretty wooden lanterns. Beauty is simple; he appreciates it. 

At last, he closes the window, shutting curtains tight. Today was a good day. He felt loved and needed and cared for. 

Rindou wishes every day was like this one, but then wouldn’t its significance be lost on him? Life is a contradiction and Rindou loves it too. Just for today he allows himself to. 

xv.

Flowers bloom inside you when Ran’s hips meet yours and you moan into his shoulder, your teeth drawing blood from his skin there. 

Arms limp around his neck, your body violently quivers and he, too vulnerable and high on his own orgasm, spreads his palms across your naked back, running them up and down. Mouth hungry on your skin he leaves open sloppy kisses across your neck. It does little to calm you down. It does nothing at all to subside the hunger and emotions you have for him in this moment [and always]. 

"Shit, I bit you. I am sorry," you say, your breath still hitched. You run a finger across the mark, wiping the blood that stains Ran’s perfectly smooth skin. "Didn't want anyone to hear us. Does it hurt?"

Tilting his head to the side, his palms on the small of your back, Ran inspects the damage. He winces, and in your blissfully tired state, you don’t pay attention to how fake that wince sounds or how unnaturally he grimaces when you touch the wound again. "It…"

He doesn’t have a chance to finish, because you run your fingers around the mark and bring your lips closer to it, pecking the red irritated skin there in an attempt to soothe the pain. Ran freezes. All jokes and teasing he intended to voice die. 

He dies with them.

“Ran are you okay? Does it hurt that much? I kissed it because I thought it might lessen the pain. I probably only irritated it more. I am sorry. Let me go take a look if they have band aids in the bathroom.” You are still sitting on his lap with him inside of you and your legs still tremble, but now only lightly and you think you can stand up and walk the short distance to the en-suite bathroom. But when you lift yourself off him, Ran grips your hips so harshly you yelp. 

You are confused. Lines on your forehead you look at him with a question in your eyes. Did you do something wrong? Was he repulsed by your spontaneous biting? Love is about questions and you drown in them. It’s fortunate that Ran holds you just where you should be held. “Don’t go. It doesn’t hurt at all. I haven’t even noticed you bit me until you said. I was just teasing you.” 

In the silence that follows, each of you think of some distant places that never correlate with each other and yet even there you are together. In the comfortable familiarity and warmth of his body you doze off. Ran’s huge tattoo fades away with every drop of your eyelids; little butterflies landing on ink orchids. You swear you can smell their faint flowery aroma, but that simply can’t be true. 

A lot of things can’t be true and yet you choose to believe in them. 

"A girl today asked me to have sex with her, and I refused," Ran says after a while.

Sleepy, you place your chin on his chest, locking a gaze with him. Ran does have the prettiest eyes, you think. But instead, you ask him, "Was it Ikazuchi?"

His blonde brows coming together, he tries really hard to remember. So hard a deep wrinkle appears on his forehead. You raise your head and smoothe it, waiting for it to disappear. You don’t like seeing him troubled and now he looks like that whole encounter was unpleasant for him. 

"I can’t remember," he says honestly, catching your hand when it wipes at his eyebrows. He brings it to his mouth and kisses your knuckles.

"Oh, it was her. I know," you giggle, a stray ray of bleak mid-autumn sun pecking at your face, causing you to squint as you squirm on top of Ran. He whines, and you press a hand over his mouth, whispering, "Ran, don’t do that! You’ll wake someone up."

You see him roll his eyes, and then it’s you who is screaming, because he holds you by your waist and flips you over, so that you are under him. "So much for 'Ran, don’t!'" He mimics your voice and intonation a bit too perfectly, and then he stops, and you can only imagine what makes him shut up. But he stares at you, his half-closed eyes forever young and full of longing. You can only guess what’s going on in his mind.

Bathed in morning sun and your love Ran looks exceptionally beautiful. 

“What is it?” 

There’s no hesitation in his reply. "You are pretty."

And there’s no hesitation when he brushes his lips against yours. His breath is warm and sweet and he is your new source of air, because altogether you stop to breathe and it’s him who inhales life in you. Like a little lamb before sacrifice you stare at him with wide eyes. So full of questions. So full of don’t you remember I told you not to kiss me before you feel something for me. If you ever feel something for me. 

It’s a plea. It’s an incantation. It’s his chance; his doom and forgiveness. 

“I should’ve done it before,” he mumbles. Lips on lips. He has been inside you a few moments ago and numerous times before that, but you swear he has never been this close. “Should’ve kissed you when I’ve seen you cry that day. Should’ve kissed you when you undid my hair before we went to sleep that very first night. Should’ve fucking known I liked you all this time.”

Salty sad tears draw pretty patterns on your face and you choke on sobs, too overwhelmed, too shocked and so desperately confused. All the thinking process in you comes to a halt - blame it on your tipsiness, tiredness or early hours of the morning - and you shake your head, hands reaching out to Ran, clutching onto him. 

You are contradicting yourself and you know that. But you can’t think what’s more disappointing: that you are uncontrollable or that you don’t believe that Ran likes you. He is made of white lies. Always have been and yet you choose want need to trust him. 

In the clouds of white sheets and duvets he rolls to his side and brings you closer. With one swift strong motion he throws your leg over his hip so even air can’t come between your bodies. He wipes at your face and the uncharacteristic patience and understanding he shows you, are enough for you to peck his lips. He smiles against them, into the kiss, and it’s sincere. 

“Don’t want you to cry,” he whispers. “Especially over me. I didn’t mean to make you sad.”

Hand on your waist, Ran nuzzles up to you, his nose brushing over yours and you surrender. 

You fall to pieces. 

“Only wanted to say how I feel. Would’ve done it before if it wasn’t so hard to understand. Why when it’s real it’s so hard to realise you are in love with someone?” 

Leaning your forehead on his, you sniffle, but you aren’t sad anymore and you don’t cry. It’s a light grey feeling that envelopes you and if it means that this is what Ran Haitani’s love feels like you are okay with it. You accept it. 

"It wasn’t hard for me," you say, and Ran reclines back, taking you in, his head and heart full of you.

“What?” “I said it wasn’t hard for me to understand how I feel about you.” He grins then and he looks so boyish, so happy, so content your heart explodes, its broken fragments piercing through his chest to fill up cracks in him where nothing could before. 

This time, when Ran kisses you, his fingers caressing your jaw, you respond to him. It’s shy and testing at first, but soon it gets sloppy and it’s wet and messy and lots of tongue. It’s so so so good you don’t need him to get you ready and you don’t need a lot of time to come undone again. 

Again and again and again. 

xvi.

It’s been weeks since Rindou’s birthday party and by the mouth pressed into thin line and grumpy hooded eyes that Rindou only has with Ran, he can tell that his brother has a lot of questions that burn him on the inside. 

However Rindou doesn’t ask them and Ran would never feed his brother’s pride by responding to them before he was even interrogated. That it’s going to be an interrogation he doesn’t doubt for a split second. Glares and muttering Rindou provides Ran every time they are in the same room are enough to guess. It’s late November when Rindou finally snaps. 

Ran is putting on his black boots he bought a few days ago in Harajuku after getting his hair done when the burning sensation on the back of his head intensifies. It’s a little after eight and he is worried he is going to be late to pick you up from the practice. Earlier today, you agreed to meet at nine thirty. If Rindou holds him for more than three minutes he won’t be there on time and while Ran is always late he hates to be late to you. 

Dressed in all black - black hakama, black button up and black socks - Rindou reminds Ran of a kid who pretends he is into fashion, but can only mix and match black clothes and even that isn't given since Ran can clearly see that Rindou’s hakama is slightly darker than his t-shirt. He bites a smile, averting his eyes from Rindou so he won’t notice the playfulness that spills from him. Of course, Rindou does notice. 

Of course, he groans and Ran can only imagine what names his little brother has called him inside his head. 

"What don’t you like about my outfit this time?” Rindou spreads his hands across his freshly ironed clothes and places them on his hips. He looks down at himself, but Ran is sure that no matter how much he tries, he'll never understand. Finally, he raises his now angry eyes and looks at the smiling Ran. “Is it my pants?”

“No.” 

“Then what is it? I can tell you think there’s something wrong with it.” 

Orange sun paints their apartment in a pretty peach colour. It licks at Rindou’s blonde hair and he is even more handsome than he usually is. Ran looks at him, while he stands before him frustrated, angry and lost, and in this moment he knows he won’t ever forgive himself if he wrongs his younger brother. He doesn’t remember when Rindou became so big and how his shoulders are even broader than Ran’s are and he for sure missed a moment when Rindou started dating, but he will never forget this particular moment. 

When Rindou is twenty and sunset kisses his existence. 

“The hakama colour doesn’t match with the button up.” 

“Oh.” Rindou's fingers circle around the collar of the blouse, and now he isn’t just lost, angry, and frustrated, but also self-conscious and lonely.

As an older brother Ran has - always had and always will - many responsibilities. To provide, to keep safe, to care and to love. To spare from the misery of unknowingness. Never to betray. 

And that’s why, this time, Ran gives in. He kneels down to tie his left boot and answers a question that wasn’t asked but was thought. “Yes, I am going to see her, and then I’ll take her to eat whatever she wants today. We might take a walk right after dinner or go straight to 7-Eleven and buy her favorite pudding and that stupid pizza-flavored snack she likes so much. I’ve grown to like it too by now. It isn’t too bad. Anyway, when we are inside her apartment, I’ll start kissing her the second I close the door behind us, and we’ll probably take it to the shower, and after the shower, to her bed. If she doesn’t fall asleep immediately, we’ll eat, and in the morning…”

“Does she let you eat on her bed?” 

Done with his laces, Ran raises up, he blinks at his brother, and a shit-eating grin spreads on his face. “Well, yes, she does. Always. Why?”

“Really?!” Under the circled tinted glasses, Rindou blinks a couple of times. “She gave me and Haruchiyo a lecture about how we can’t eat in bed. How are you supposed to sleep with crumbs under your asses? You absolutely shouldn’t eat in bed. Especially you, Rindou. You always spill the sauce.”

The imitation of your voice is pretty accurate. Down to the intonation and pauses you do when you are speaking and Ran can’t help, but laugh. His brother does know you well. It’s a pang in his heart. He can’t translate it into words. 

“I guess she just likes you more than us,” concludes Rindou. He adjusts his glasses and points at the pile of shoes by the door, leaving no room for Ran to contradict. Rindou blurts out almost immediately, “YSL or Yamamoto boots? What do you think?”

They settle on the Japanese designer, because Ran claims the European vibe doesn’t really suit Rindou. He also doesn’t change the button-up and it’s been more than three minutes. 

The sky is a deep blue, borderline black, when they enter Itabashi area. The roads are unusually empty for this time of the day and a few stars appear each time it darkens one shade more. Today the world is very beautiful and Ran hopes on his way back it still will be so you can see it yourself too. These floating lights, rich colours and street lamps with their alien light. 

“I don’t think she likes me more, Rin,” Ran's voice breaks the absolute silence that reigns within the car. The engine of Ran’s Honda continues its song, undisturbed and infinite. “Our significance for her is different. And not on the scale of lesser to greater.”

Beside him in the passenger seat, Rindou stretches, his palms hitting the roof of the car. “Honestly? I could kinda tell you were always into each other. All this bickering, sneak glances, accidental touches. And you never once forgot her birthday in three years. Don’t know why I was so surprised she started to smell like you in the summer.”

“Smell like me?” Despite them being on the road Ran turns his head to the left and stares at his brother. “What does it even mean?” To that Rindou never responds. He shrugs as if he never said what he just said and Ran’s curiosity remains a hungry fox. 

In less than twenty minutes they’ll reach you. They both wonder if you will wait for them outside and if not, who of them should come pick you up from the studio. 

“Can we stay at our place today? We can invite Haru, Kaku and maybe Senju over? Would be nice to watch something and eat. I think the DVD rental next to us should be still open.” 

Loneliness, myriads of sparkling little fireflies, illuminate the space between Ran and Rindou, and Ran bumps his brother on the shoulder with his fist, playfully but not too strongly. He communicates to him, "I am always here. I always will be." Then he suggests, “Of course. Shoot them a message. Say the food is on us, but if they want to drink something, they should bring it themselves.”

A huge toothy smile appears on Rindou’s face and that’s how Ran knows his brother understands that love is never divided between people. It’s shared and fed in equal amounts. Just differently. 

“Oh. And mention that if anyone is to crash at our place they might be ready to hear a few whimpers here and there.” 

With his eyes already on the phone, fingers typing away messages to their friends, Rindou raises his head and gives his brother a disgusted look. "What?"

“Your friend is awfully loud in bed. That’s what I am saying.” 

“Gross. Stop the car.” Ran laughs and when he catches Rindou’s smiling, shaking his head in a what-a-bastard way, he laughs some more. The firefly of loneliness is dead by now.

More cars pass them on the highway and nothing feels real. 

xvii.

The park near their house is not that grand as the park you always stop by after Ryou’s parties, but it has a small square playground and that’s all you need. 

Three bags with snacks and cup noodles are forgotten on the bench. Half of the goods lay scattered on the ground, but neither you or Rindou pay much attention to it. You probably haven’t even noticed it yet. Too busy laughing and enjoying yourself. 

It was - of course - your idea to stop by and play. Just for a little, you said, tugging Rindou by the sleeve of his black puffer. Inside the park it’s dark. The lit lamps here and there are the bonbori ones and while they already aren’t the brightest, the shadows of trees absorb whatever lights they illuminate. If Rindou wasn’t Rindou he would find this place creepy. The desertness of it due to the hour only intensifies the feeling. 

But you are happy before him as you sit on the swings swaying back and forth. You laugh loudly and when he drugs you by your waist to the roundabout you scream at him to set you free so loud people in houses nearby might think he wants to murder you. None calls the police though or comes outside so in your wail they might have heard merriness, the same Rindou did. They probably think it’s teenagers in love fooling around.

But you are not teenagers and you aren’t in love.  And that’s what you tell Rindou when you push him into the huge metal circle with holes in it. He does his best to imagine what child game this surrealistic installation serves, but nothing comes to mind. 

"Rindou, I am sorry," your whisper echoes inside the metal walls like an arrow. "I should have told you from the beginning."

"It's alright," he murmurs back instantly. It should be the other way around, you comforting him, but it is not.

"I just think I really, really, really love Ran, and that's why I couldn't tell you."

The confession sits heavy on both of you and the tension made of substantial marine ropes hangs around your necks. In the dark Rindou can’t see you, but he can imagine you playing with your fingers or biting your cheek. Too full of emotions and pregnant with spilled secrets. He knows you too well and you know him well too, so when he outstretches his arm and his hand falls into your, you both giggle. 

“Like I feel bad for not telling you, but I couldn’t help it. He is your brother. I was too shy to tell you. I still am.” 

"You aren't making any sense," he puffs, suddenly sounding a bit angry or maybe tired. Perhaps both. "One second you are declaring you love my brother, and then you say you are bashful about it. It doesn't make any sense." Your hold around his fingers tightens, and he throws his head back, leaning against the cold metal. It would be good to feel its bitter licks against his naked skin, to sober up, jolt back to you, away from his illusions and disappointments. But then, he thinks, even if you threw him into cold Antarctic waters, with your gentle hand in his, he could never be cold. That's why he softly adds, "And I've already told you. It's alright. No matter how I feel about it."

"And how do you feel about it, Rindou?" Instead of sounding bitter or disappointed or angry, you sound mellow and kind. You sound like everything you shouldn't. "I want to know."

When he speaks, it's not what you wanted to hear, but that's all he could say to you now. Or ever. "Ran is my brother, and if something happens, it's him I am going to choose. I want you to know that."

The last sentence is a regretful hum. Barely audible, but still evident. He clutches his eyes shut and holds his breath. What he said to you hurts him badly enough to have them closed forever and he supposes it’s painful for you too. He hopes it doesn’t hurt you as much as it does him. And he is glad it’s really dark in here so you can’t see his shattered heart. 

In an ideal world you’d run away from him or at least be angry. You really should be. He gave you all the reasons too. He desperately wishes for your fury so it eases his turmoils - so he can be mad at you too -  but it never comes. Instead, you fall in his arms and wrap your hands around his shoulders. You breathe him in and smile into his neck. This world, this version of you and him, and everything you are are too far from ideal.  He loves it too.  He loves you. 

“I know that. And I know that you know that it’s okay. I’ll never blame you for choosing Ran and I’ll never leave your side. It’s not even a choice, Rindou. He is literally your brother. Your other half and your only family.” 

“You feel like family too.” 

The walk back to their apartment is mostly silent. Hand in hand, you stroll through the dark alleys of Roppongi that you both know so well, each of you thinking about each other. But thoughts can’t hurt anymore. Not after that small significant moment in the kids playground. Rindou can’t exactly pinpoint what happened, but something did. Was it what you said? Was it what he said? Or perhaps it’s the hug or clasped hands that took the weight from his heart away and glued its torn pieces back together. 

And by the time you are actually inside the apartment, when everyone is already there and waiting for you, Rindou is calm and the part that constantly worried and kept him high on his toes is gone, he doesn’t even remember what it was like to live with it. It’s like he is another person, reborn and better. Still the same Rindou just maybe a tiny bit freer and the sparks in his eyes are shining with new light, new colour, not the absence of it. 

So, when you enter the apartment and you take your shoes off and Ran who meets you by the door notices blood stains on your white socks [a never ending battle between new shoes and dancers] and he scolds you for not telling him earlier that your feet hurt while scooping you away, Rindou doesn’t worry. Nor for your feet. Nor for the ease with which you follow his older brother to the bathroom. Instead, he joins Haruchiyo and Senju who are already there in the living room. Together, they sort out the food you got in the 7-Eleven. For the most part, it’s silent, the TV is off and the door to the bathroom remains open. Rindou can’t see you and neither can Haru or Senju, but they hear you just fine. They hear the water running down and how patiently Ran instructs you to put your feet with socks on in the warm water. He then explains you how they mother and later he himself used to do the same to Rindou when he was little and his new pair of shoes would hurt him so bad, blisters became bloody mess that stuck to fabric of his socks and unless you wanted little Rindou to scream and cry and tear the skin and meat off him, you’d need to soak his feet in the warm water. This way it won’t hurt at all and Ran, assures you, he never wants you to hurt at all. 

In the middle of this conversation Ran also points out that when Rindou was really small he always had socks with Super Mario print on them and if they were ruined for good, he would cry so hard, you’d think someone had died. To that Rindou rolls his eyes and Haru openly laughs, mouthing a silent really? And when Rindou nods, Haru laughs some more and shakes his head in pure amusement. If he or Senju catch on to something they don’t show it or maybe they knew all along, reading into sudden tenderness between you and Ran quicker than Rindou had. At this point, it’s all in the past. He doesn’t care. 

The indifference remains when Ran makes you take a shower and dresses you in his clothes. His brother stays the same and you despite looking too adorable in Ran’s old loose black t-shirt, too are the same you were before. You still bite your cheek and you still sit between Rindou and Haruchiyo, leaning your head against Haru’s shoulder. 

And yet, the stoic callousness Rindou has been experiencing through the whole evening, evaporates when Ran finds you sitting on the floor by the ceiling to floor window. The white letters that form actors and crew names flow inside the screen of their Panasonic Viera and the light in the room hasn’t been turned on yet. The boxes of instant ramen are left on the floor around the sofa and armchair. The air still smells like chicken and miso. Next to him Haru stretches in his place and yawns. Rindou is too exhausted - mentally and physically equally - but he doesn’t want to go to sleep yet. Today was different, but pleasant all the same. He doesn’t want this day to end. That’s why when Shion, who came along with Kakucho just after you were done with your shower, starts his usual post-movie banter about the hidden philosophy behind the story you just watched, Rindou happily joins, effortlessly lurking into the conversation. It’s then, in the middle of the heated argument that Rindou tries to justify his judging of the poor choice that the main character made in favour of her lover other than her career that he finally takes in consideration the vacant place to his left. He wanted to ask you what you think, what would’ve you done if you were to choose between your dream job and your boyfriend. 

But you aren’t beside him and Rindou hadn’t noticed when you disappeared or why. 

The confusion on his face must be evident because Kakucho who sits opposite him grins and with his chin points at something behind Rindou’s back. He doesn’t really need to turn his head and see for himself what’s going on. Kakucho’s happy mischievous eyes tell him all there’s to know. 

But he does turn and he does see you and Ran talking in low voices in front of the dark night and myriads of small lights of someone else’s lives. The whole room falls silent then and in this short pause Rindou remembers how you once told him that those windows are your favourite place to be in their apartment. 

It’s like you are alone in this wild wild world, but never lonely. Just how many people live in Tokyo. Isn’t it crazy we are part of them? Do you think they think about us too sometimes? 

You must be telling Ran exactly the same thing or something along those lines you shared with Rindou years ago. His eyes shift into two slits and he smiles at you. Softly. Fondly. Lovingly. His hand rises to your face, caressing it gently, thumbs ghosting over your jaw. The closing credits end and the TV blazes with white colour so bright it lights up the whole living room and bits of kitchen. But no one seems to care. Everyone watches Ran leaning into you and planting a kiss to your lips. It’s sweet and familiar. It holds something sacred that no one in the room even after witnessing it would understand. It’s beyond everyone. 

"You mean to tell me that when I asked for her number and Ran told me she’s seeing someone, that someone was him?" Fully confused, a cloud settles over Shion’s scrunched face. "What a fucking bastard. He should have just told me she was his."

At that, Kakucho laughs and shoves his elbow between Shion’s ribs, then winks at Rindou whose cheeks are now burning red. “Some things aren’t that easy to voice, Shi. Especially when it comes to love. It’s not like Ran would’ve come up to us for love advice. Don’t be ridiculous.”

Shion hums in agreement, still seemingly perplexed at the sudden revelation. It’s not clear whether he even understood Kakucho’s comment.

“And besides, you'd be a moron to think that Ran wasn’t seeing someone,” Kakucho adds, resting his head against the back of the love seat armchair. He closes his sly eyes and bites his lower lip to hide a smile.

“Why is that?” Shion asks, obviously believing that "the moron" comment was directed at him. He turns his head to the left, looking at Kakucho, who cracks his right eye open. The playful smirk is still on Kakucho's lips.

“Because when that little bimbo girl that Ran was going crazy about made a move on him in the club, he rejected her.”

“Which girl? When?” It's clear that Shion doesn't remember the incident, and neither do Rindou, Haruchiyo, or Senju. They all eagerly wait for Kakucho's explanation, but he remains silent.

The tease that he is, he only opens his mouth after finishing his can of Coca-Cola.

“I don’t remember her name, but I think it was written with the kanji for 'blue.' She kept mentioning it to Ran. Like, 'Don’t you think it’s pretty? Don’t you like it? You said you liked it before,'” it's evident that reminiscing about this is quite painful for Kakucho, and Rindou genuinely pities him. He hates Ran's fickleness. He hates Aoki Ogura even more, even if she was never one of the girls he slept with.

That it’s her Kakucho is  speaking about Rindou has no doubts whatsoever. 

“Oh, well. It’s not like Ran had ever liked a decent girl. They were always so fucking annoying. Remember the one that barged into the classroom for him to talk things out?” 

Down the memory lane they go, and Rindou barely listens to them anymore. There’s nothing new for him to hear. He too became a victim of Ran’s romantic encounters. [If you can call them as such, because besides sleeping once and never again, Ran and those girls had literally nothing going on]. 

“Our baby isn’t annoying,” eyes lidded from tiredness Haruchiyo whines, invisibly tugging Rindou by the hair out from his thoughts. Kakucho and Shion too turn at him, slight surprise on their face and Haruchiyo groans seemingly disturbed that he would need to elaborate. “My baby isn’t annoying or something. She is the best and Ran actually really really really likes her. So don’t say he never liked a decent girl, cause my baby is the best and Ran loves her very much.” 

The trip in Haruchiyo words is intentional and that’s how everyone knows he is being sincere. No one argues and Rindou pats his shoulder, agreeing. 

You are the very best. 

And, yes, his brother likes you a lot. Loves, even. 

xviii.

This January is awfully rainy and Haruchiyo thinks it fucking sucks. 

Not because of the dampness and the cold, but because he can’t light a cigarette outside on the campus and instead needs to smoke in the clamped smelly toilets. Observing the rain, he actually likes it since he’s been a little kid, from the circled window adds little to the pleasure of inhaling the fog into his lungs. 

At this point he might as well give up on smoking. 

In slow deliberate motions he pulls the pack out of his trousers and cracks it open counting the cigarettes. He places a bet that if it’s more than seven he won’t give up and if it’s less than that then maybe his smoker habit will end now. 

Eleven cigarettes look back at him and he smiles, kisses the pack and slips it back into the pocket. 

Today is his lucky day. 

“Knew I’d find you in here.” Across the bathroom scrawls a harsh slap of the door and Rindou barges in. His blonde hair disheveled and wet from the rain. He doesn’t need to tell him that he’s been outside a mere second ago. There’s a grave coldness from his damp coat and his heart. Haruchiyo squints his eyes and decides, almost certain, that you two haven’t talked yet. 

“I assume you haven’t talked yet,” as always straightforward Haruchiyo doesn’t wait for Rindou to bring up the topic. 

He dives in without a single pint of hesitation. He cocks his head and laughs when Rindou shakes his head an affirmative ‘no’. 

In between those two weeks you haven’t spoken with one another, it seems like nothing much really changed. When it comes to you Rindou still loses his ability to speak coherently. He still lowers his head down and looks at the floor. This time he also steals a cigarette from Haruchiyo’s “Hope”. The irony in seeing Rindou clutching to a literal hope in his hands would be funny, if this irony wasn’t a suffocating pool of your tears and sour expression.  

So he doesn’t laugh. Haruchiyo suffocates. 

For just a little while he needs to talk about something else and that’s why he recites to Rindou who now sits on the low windowsill about the bet he had earlier with the cigarettes. Any other day, they would laugh at it so hard and Rindou would tease him so badly, the back of their throats would hurt them from saying too much and talking too loudly. But not now. 

Now Rindou just cracks a smirk and crashes the cigarette between his fingers. The white paper snapping in two. 

Then, he is back to you. [Like always.]

“Is she alright?” Is all he asks. 

Any other day Haruchiyo would tease him, but not today. Not now when his best friend is grayer than the clouds outside in the sky. 

“Caught her crying yesterday while she was making us tonkatsu. Said she’s fine and it’s just onion.” 

“There wasn’t any onion?” 

“Bingo,” Haruchiyo puts the cigarette out, pressing its flame against the white wall. There’s quite a few fading black spots of the same size around the surface indicating he’s been here before. 

“I miss her,” the confession slips out of Rindou’s mouth effortlessly and easily, but the dead weight in his chest doesn’t lessen. It hurts all the same. “I can’t talk to her though. I mean I am totally on Ran’s side. How could she believe her out of all people? I swear if that little bitch told me she fucked Ran I would’ve never believer her.” 

And that’s a lie and they both know it. 

“She haven’t told her she fucked Ran. She’s been whispering about it with Misa when my baby was there practising. She made sure she heard that and then she added he called her little love while he was balls deep inside her. Of course it hurt. Fictional or not.” 

Rindou sighs, banging his head against the window, drops of rain chaotically sliding down. “No doubt, but Ran told me nothing of the sort happened. Besides, he hasn't seen Aoki in a while. Ran might be Ran, but this is not a thing he would do.” “Then, he should’ve explained himself properly,” Haruchiyo retorts, his smart eyes peering into Rindou. “One text and no visits screams to me as a lack of interest.” “He is just too prideful and it’s not like it’s easy on him too. All he does is sleep, eating and beating the shit out of me. Yesterday he snapped because I put soya sauce in the fridge and apparently you don’t store it there. There’s a cupboard for it,” the mocking comes out perfectly and Haruchiyo cracks a smile. He spots a light purple colour he hasn’t noticed before on Rindou's cheek and presses his lip into the thin line. Smile evaporating from his face. Again, it’s gloomy. “You know, Haru, I might try to talk to her on the day of the showcase. I am quite positive Ran might come around by then too. We can go celebrate it at Shabuan then. Yeah. That’s what we do.” Your showcase is five days from now and Haruchiyo doubts much will change and yet he hopes. And so he nods, gathers his things from the floor and hugging Rindou by the shoulders leads him to the dining hall. After smoking he is always hungry. 

Just a day before your grand performance Haruchiyo stops by your apartment and spends the night. 

All you do is talk and it’s light and enjoyable and for the first time this month his heart stings a pretty pain. And that’s why, desping knowing, it’s wrong and the time is not right [but when is it right?] he mentions that Rindou is coming tomorrow to see you. 

The brief glint of joy that lights up your eyes doesn’t escape him. But it’s there for a mere second and then you are you again. Without Rindou or Ran in your life. 

“Tell him to stay in the back then. He would distract me with his stupid face and I want everything to go smoothly tomorrow,” he knows you are only half joking and he makes a point to actually hold Rindou at the back. But then it won’t do any good, because you’ll stumble upon him in the crowd anyway. You two could never escape each other and Haruchiyo feels slightly jealous. Then, you add, in a whisper. “It might be my last year at the university after all.” 

It’s a slip up on your side because your eyes go wide and you stare at him and then hurriedly you sprint to the bathroom and stay there for seventeen minutes and when you come out you say you are going to sleep. Tomorrow is a big day after all. 

Patient and sweet, Haruchiyo nods and takes a step forward, lurching you into a big hug. He kisses the crown of your head and feels you tremble in his arms. You might think he is someone else, but he is not, and he leans back, looking at you with a genuine kind smile that screams at you you are home and whatever you do I’m right here. 

He knows he doesn’t need to say anything and yet he does. “Whatever you do or say it’s right to me. If you want to drop out then be it. If you want to switch majors or change universities be it. Mhm? Now, go rest and do your best tomorrow. I'll be right there and so will be Rin.” 

You nod at him and disappear to your bedroom. Back in time, you would always share the bed, but today there’s a pillow and a blanket on the sofa and it’s been almost three weeks since you’ve been with Ran and yet you still have his claim over you. 

Hands on his tummy Haruchiyo lies on your sofa. Green plant with wide leaves tickles his feet and he stands up to move it aside. He wonders if even one night Ran spent on his couch and he laughs to himself at this absurd thought. 

Of course not. Ran’s place is by your side. Body is made of muscles, flesh and skin, Haruchiyo thinks, blood and bones. Hair and nails. 

But not yours. 

Yours is made of Ran touches and his presence. His sweet words and loving stares. 

It probably eats you alive on the nights when he is not with you. On those days you are restless and tired and lonely and your body is burning and your mind is tortured. On those days you think, you think, you think and there’s no end to it. No salvation and no easiness. No ice pressed to the wound. Nothing. Just you and black absence of Ran and what he is. 

Today is such a day and it hurts you and Haruchiyo drowns in your pain as nothing more exists in your small apartment in Nippori. 

On the day of the showcase it’s snowing. The world is white and very beautiful. 

Despite it being awfully cold Haruchiyo is only wearing a thin leather jacket Senju got him for his eighteenth birthday years ago. It’s his favourite. Under it is a thick navy sweater. This too is a gift, but from you. A spontaneous one. You said to him you got it because it reminded you of him. How and why you associated it with him is a mystery. He never asked you. But he likes it no less than the leather jacket. 

He is wearing them both today. 

When Rindou comes in, cheeks red from cold and hair messy from running down the hall, he is afraid he missed your performance. 

“The road was so fucking slippery and Ran wasn’t home so I used my Kawasaki to get here,” Rindou explains in a hushed whisper. 

“Does Ran know today is the showcase day?” 

Before replying, Rindou rolls his eyes. The question is a bit stupid, Haruchiyo agrees. Ran knows everything about you. “Of course he does. And I told him about the dinner too, but he hasn’t said a thing back which is a good sign. He might actually come. I was hoping he would be here already, but I guess you haven’t seen him.” 

Haruchiyo shakes his head. He hasn’t seen Ran here and when he parked his own Kawasaki - a model just below Rindou’s -  he didn't see Ran’s car everywhere. Not that he looked specifically for it so it might be that he just hadn’t noticed it. 

The conversation between them is cut short, because you appear on the stage. There’s no music yet. Just a red draped curtain behind you and a circle of light in which you stand. All eyes are on you, but it seems like no one notices the slight shaking of your right hand that is raised in the air. Nor do they see your wobbly legs. 

The music plays and you start to dance. This time, unlike last year, you don’t have a costume on. It’s your usual practising attire that you wear. A leotard and shorts. And Haruchiyo wonders if it’s meant to be that way. He squints his eyes and tries to convey what your dance is about, but he can’t understand a thing. It confuses him because never before did that ever happen. 

Haruchiyo blinks and turns to Rindou. [He believes Rindou always understood you better. Which isn’t true at all. He just tries harder.]

“What the fuck is going on?” Is all he says. 

“She’s hurting. Physically. Something is hurting her, but… It’s her feet. Shit! Haru, we need to stop it. She’s hurting herself.” 

The broken clock inside Haruchiyo clicks and all the gears fall into their right place. For once he gets it. The strange outfit, the mannerism, the simplicity of it all and the absence of everything. The blood on your feet and wet stains you leave after yourself. 

In the second row someone is sick. The small girlish voice shouts something that couldn't be heard under the weight of your performance. No one can tear their eyes away from you and even Rindou who was so eager to help you stays frozen to the place. 

Cruelty and violence are always marvelling. It’s in their ugly beauty that people find themselves. 

It ends as quickly as it started. 

The girl from the second row marshes through the open door to the safety of the halls and Haruchiyo recognizes in her Aoki Ogura. He notices her crying red face, but does nothing to stop her. There’s guilt evident in her scared eyes and Haruchiyo hopes she suffocates in it. The last thing he hears from her is her throwing up somewhere down the corridor. He wonders if she’s embarrassed. For what she did to you and for the pool of acid that somebody will clear up for her lately. 

The light is on and the music is off when you take your dance shoes off and shake them in the air. The broken glass and razors waterfall to the floor and you smile widely. Almost insanely. Your mouth quivers as if you want to say something, but at last you don’t. You place your shoes soaked with blood in the middle of the stage and bow. Then you leave. Then Rindou takes off and latches himself onto the dean of the Univercity. His beige coat covers them both as he strikes the old man in the face. Once. Twice. Thrice. No one is stopping him. 

Everyone is still staring at your shoes. 

The night is dark and the snow is still falling when Haruchiyo finds you splayed out on the asphalt in the middle of the parking lot. 

For a mere moment he stops and he feels like the whole world stops too. It’s silent as he paints the image of you laying on the ground with a thin white veil hugging your body that reminds him too much of cerements. 

The image is sorrowful and it’s beautiful. Like you, this night and bloody snow. 

Your wounds are still open and bleeding. 

“What on Earth were you thinking?” As always Haruchiyo isn’t harsh or reprimanding you.

He isn’t Rindou to scold you for your stupidities and he isn’t Ran to worry about you more than he needs to just because you are you. Haruchiyo loves you in a special way where he doesn’t try much, but gives you everything anyway. 

“I just wanted them to see what I am,” you utter, cracking your eyes open. “Just wanted them to know I am enough. No glass or razors can stop me.” There’s something else you aren’t saying, but Haruchiyo knows what it is already. He kneels down to you and a smile on his face matches yours. Tired, but triumphant. 

“Art is a beautiful form of expression, isn’t it?” The question is rhetoric and he isn’t expecting you to answer him so he takes a deep breath and takes your hand in his. A mere reassurance and everything beyond it. “Now, let’s get you to the hospital. Gotta make sure you are okay.” ‘Thank you, Haru.” 

“Anytime, love.” The night is dark and beautiful and full of light that shines right through you and those you care about. 

Since early childhood Haruchiyo hated hospitals. 

He hated the lethargic smell, the richness of white colour everywhere and apologetic gazes of the stuff. Blunt himself he couldn’t stand the half-said truth and insincere apologies. He avoided hospitals like plague. And maybe if Rindou wasn’t so occupied with getting his anger out on the dean, he wouldn’t have taken you there himself, instead handing this task to Rindou. 

But here he is. An hour later with you submitted and Rindou in the emergency care getting his broken nose checked. Doctors said he might need a cast. Haruchiyo can barely picture Rindou with a white cast across his face, but he laughs nonetheless. He doubts it will cut the girls off Rindou though. The last time he got into a fight - on your behalf again - and had bruises all over his face, every single girl at university had fallen in love with him. Thus, if they weren’t in love with him before. 

Haitani curse. 

So, Haruchiyo really really really doubts the cast will scare anyone. 

More time passes and then Rindou joins him in the waiting area. Without cast, but with a plaster across his handsome face. Haruchiyo grins at the sight and Rindou elbows him between his ribs. Not hard. Playfully. 

All the anger gone from his being. 

As they wait for the news on your condition they stay silent. Each thinking of you, but probably in very different contexts. It’s only fair as you were never the same for them. Stagnancy and constancy were never your forte. You are the best at evolving, moving and… dancing. 

The doctor leads them both to your appointed room. He is a handsome male in his early thirties and he is very to the point when he says that you will be okay and that they cleaned your wounds and bandaged them and that you will need to do the same procedure for at least two weeks until you are fully healed. Some cuts were too deep, he mentions, if they weren’t it wouldn’t take so long. He mentions that you also needed stitches on your left sole, but it’s too nothing to worry about and you don’t need to get them taken off at the hospital, they will dissolve with time. 

He tells all that under three minutes that it takes him to guide boys to your room. He opens the door and hastily adds that today you will need to stay here, but tomorrow you can probably go home. Probably. If the blood that they drew from you is good and there’s no infections. 

The chances for that are low. Don’t worry. And with that he is gone. 

On the huge medical bed with both your bandaged feet poking out of the thick duvet you look almost comical. Haruchiyo wants to say just that, but notices how your eyes widen and mouth hangs open and then your arms are open, inviting Rindou for a hug. In his hold you cry. 

“I am so sorry,” you repeat again and again. 

It’s a loud mantra, a plea, and Haruchiyo isn’t that sure it’s intended solely to Rindou.

“You shouldn’t be. It’s okay. I am glad you are okay. I am so fucking glad you are fine.” But Rindou can’t peel himself off you and Haruchiyo understands why. He understands why your fingers are in his blonde hair and why your tears salten his cheek; why you can’t pull yourself away from his comfort.  

He doesn’t interrupt. He lets you soak in Rindou and lets Rindou enjoy the feeling of your warm skin. The sight is quite usual to him - you and Rindou, and Haruchiyo to have always been very touchy among each other - but there’s something new, something raw and therefore incredibly sincere between your bodies that attracts his attention. 

He feels like he is intruding so he turns away and walks to the window. The snow is still falling and the night is quite dark, but in the parking lot he can see Ran’s white Honda that stands proudly under the light of the streetlamp and his mouth stretches into a knowing smile. Haruchiyo closes his eyes thinking that what were the odds of your windows facing the fucking parking lot.

Life, it seems, is full of sweet coincidences and their outcomes.

“Honestly, I was half expecting my brother to get expelled at one point, but you, love? Never.” 

Ran’s voice is sweet with just a tinge of mocking to it. Only he can speak like that. Haruchiyo is a firm believer no one in the whole world can insult you and charm you at the same time as well as Ran can. 

And then it’s you and Haruchiyo doesn’t need to turn around and open his eyes to see how you slowly pull away from Rindou. How you close off for a second, eyes going wide as if you witnessed the most vile horror. How your lips tremble and how your whole body melts. How you pick yourself up and notice the soft gaze that Ran reserves only for those he loves. How he looks at you and no one else. 

How you understand once again what it means and how you fall into Ran again. How you love him and how he loves you. 

Love is yet a foreign concept to Haruchiyo and he hates hospitals, but he thinks he understands. 

He doesn’t need to see to feel it all. 

“I was dropping out anyway,” you confess. “What’s in the bag?” 

“Purin daifuku, those pizza chips, Pocky and soda.” 

“You didn’t bring anything for us?” If Rindou tries to hide the fact that he is a bit offended, he does it poorly. 

“No, I didn’t. You can’t stay here for the night anyway.” Ran says in his usual calm tone. Then he addresses you. “I asked if I could take you home today, but they told me we need to wait for the results till morning. Stupid if you’d ask me. But I’ll keep you company. You both can go now.” 

Under different circumstances Haruchiyo would have argued with Ran. Just for the sake of it. But right now, when he turns around and sees Ran sitting on your bed, his long hair down, head resting against yours as he holds both of your hands in his, all the words die in his throat. 

But not Rindou’s. His best friend seems agitated. “What do you mean? Why can’t we stay and you can?” “Only close family and such can stay with a patient overnight. If I were you I wouldn’t be worried about that, but about an ugly bruise that’s gonna appear on your face tomorrow. You better go home and apply that Kobayashi cream we have. Works like a miracle.” 

“Since when are you her close family?” Deliberately Rindou ignores Ran’s warnings, latching onto what he wants to know. “Okay. Let’s go, Rin.” Haruchiyo grabs Rindou by his elbow and pulls him towards the door. “We’ll see you both tomorrow.”

When Haruchiyo closes the door behind him he catches the last glimpse of you and Ran. For a split moment that will forever float between those walls of the patient room, he sees Ran leaning closer to you. He watches as his fingers brush across your jaw and your breath hitch. Ran smiles at you and his smile is so gentle, so loving, so comforting and reassuring. Haruchiyo understands why you were hurting so much when Ran wasn’t with you. He finally understands the longing. 

And yet, the smile is nothing compared to the way he looks at you. The pure raw affection he reserves just for you, that was never and will never be spent on anybody else, excludes Haruchiyo fastly and sharply. He is not needed there. No one is. 

He closes the door and sighs. Maybe hospitals aren't that awful after all. 

The thin paper doesn’t do much to prevent their asses from freezing. It was Rindou’s idea - a bad one - to lay down a thick layer of newspaper he spotted in the reception room on the parapet so they could sit on it and share a cigarette before deciding what to do next. Now it got all soggy from the snow and brought more wetness. It was like sitting in a dirty puddle. 

But the view from here was quite serene and a cigarette pleasantly burnt their throats so none of them moved. Before them was a highway and each passing car passed so fast from where they were it looked like it flew in the air. Their tires high in the sky, the lights guiding beacons. It reminded Haruchiyo of a sci-fi movie Takeomi once rented at a DVD store near their old flat. Title and plot of it was completely forgotten, but finding himself in a similar scenery brought back the unusual feeling of childish excitement. Something new was before them and Haruchiyo couldn’t wait for it. 

“Don’t you feel a bit sad?” Asked Rindou breaking the silence. 

Haruchiyo expected this question and even though he was thinking of the perfect answer for it for a while nothing right came to his head. Maybe there’s questions and problems that will never be solved and maybe that’s okay. Maybe not everything needs to be perfectly in order. 

“Don’t we always feel a bit sad?” The cigarette hanging loosely from his mouth Haruchiyo turned around and looked at his best friend. “Wouldn’t it be a boring plain world if we were happy all the time?” Rindou shrugs. Between the snowflakes and lights from the hospital windows he looks exceptionally beautiful. “I wouldn’t mind being happy all the time.”

“You only think so, Rin. And anyway it’s not like she’s gone. She’s still our best friend and will always be this. You were stupid to not talk to her. Now that you finally made up I can finally tell you that.” 

Haruchiyo laughs. His laugh is dry, but sincere. The bark he produces would suit a gangster way more than it suits him now, but maybe under the layer of time and all possible varieties that is our life somewhere out there he is one. 

Everything is possible and nothing is sure. 

“And don’t you think Ran always kinda liked her? I thought that it might be because she’s your best friend that he is attentive to her, but now that I am thinking about it I am not really sure.” 

Rindou takes off his fogged up glasses and reaches Haruchiyo to wipe them with the sweater you bought. He sighs. “Well, yeah. I mean Ran isn't a douchebag to other girls, but he was extra nice with her. I wonder when he understood it. She told me they spent a lot of time together during summer. So it probably happened then.”

“Probably.” Not that it matters now, Haruchiyo wants to add, but doesn’t. Instead, he asks. “What are you gonna do now that you got expelled?” 

“I am going to run a nightclub. Make my fucking dream come true. Ran said we have enough money to rent a decent place in Roppongi. In a couple of years if everything goes alright we can buy it and make it truly ours. What do you think she’s gonna do?” The wind blows south and snow stops falling. Everything seems still. Somewhere behind in the building is you and Ran. Probably talking or kissing. It doesn’t matter since you have each other. And Haruchiyo has Rindou. And to be honest, you are never truly alone. There’s always someone with you or within you. Present now or in the past. 

Wickedly Haruchiyo smiles and stands up from the parapet. His pants are thoroughly soaked, but he is warm. Despite everything, today is a good day. “Don’t you know? She’s gonna look out for the kid her and Ran made a couple of months ago.” Haruchiyo watches Rindou’s face fall and he laughs, licking his lips. “I am kidding. Or not really. Saw a test in her bathroom when I stayed over and she mentioned dropping out to me. Said she was sick of dancing. Don’t make such a face, Rin!” Haruchiyo laughs again and again and then Rindou laughs too. “We can think about this in the morning… Now don’t you want to eat something? I am fucking starving.” “Ramen or soba?” “Soba.” “Well, soba it is then. Let’s go.” Their motorcycles roar a long time after they are gone, but the smell of youth they carried never fades away. 

It stays forever. 

[ur-boyfiend]

hai , here's some chan x reader fluffy domestic stuff, if anyone wants to see a continuation lemme know ^^

you’re lying in bed on your back, eyes closed and earbuds in.  your skills at zoning out are strong, so you’re not very aware of your surroundings. you don’t have any plans for today, but your friends and boyfriend like to stop by unannounced, so you don’t particularly expect to be left alone all day. 

that’s why you’re not that surprised when you feel someone's weight drop on top of you. you pause your music and pull out your earbuds, looking up slightly to see a mop of curly blond hair. laughing quietly, you gently run your fingers through your boyfriend’s hair, and he leans into your touch. 

“what’s goin’ on channie?” he seems more tired than usual, which is saying something. he mumbles something in response, but his face is still buried in your chest so you can’t actually tell what he’s saying. 

“love, i can’t hear you.” 

he lifts his head up to look at you, and his expression almost reminds you of an upset puppy, “people don’t know how to do their jobs. i came in and nobody had finished their part of the project, you could tell they all expected me to finish it for them. so now i’m doing the entire project myself.”

you frown, knowing that being one of the best students in the music department meant people assumed chan would do their work for them if they asked. you’ve given plenty of students deadly side-eye when they tried to bother chan, but most of them just try again when you’re not there. 

“can you tell your professor?” 

chan just shakes his head, “i don’t wanna tell the professor because that’d give them the chance to get their shit together. i’ll just do the project myself and leave their names off of it, their loss.”

you laugh quietly, appreciating the pettiness. you were probably a bad influence, but because of chan’s default sweetheart personality, you were glad he wasn’t letting people take advantage of him anymore. 

“if there’s any way i can help let me know, alright?” 

“you have your own classes to work on, i don’t wanna use up your work time.” 

you shake your head, “the biggest assignment i have right now is my end of semester project for my visual arts class, my team for the year end fashion show is actually ahead of where we need to be since we’re all prone to hyperfocusing on the work.” 

chan grumbled slightly, “imagine having a team that do their work, what a concept.” 

you gently scratch at his scalp, still running your fingers through his hair, “is there anyone else in your class you could team up with? maybe not for this project, but for future ones?” 

chan shrugs, “i try not to interact with people unless they interact with me first, i don’t need to prompt people to bug me.” 

you snort, knowing how he feels. people used to treat you the same way, the difference is you’re just a lot more intimidating than him, and people figured out pretty quickly that you weren’t gonna do their work for them. 

“i think one of my friends was talking about his boyfriend needing a new team for his assignment, i’m pretty sure another one of our friends is in a similar situation… lemme ask real quick.” 

he hums in confirmation and you grab your phone from where it sat abandoned on the low shelf next to your bed, quickly putting in your passcode and opening the ‘dance hoes’ groupchat. you know each other because of how often the performance and fashion departments work together, everyone in the chat had done modeling for you at some point. 

you send a quick text, ‘hey can the catboys get online?’

quickly you get responses from two of the other chat members, both asking what was going on, one much more kindly than the other. you’re pretty sure chan has fallen asleep on you, but you keep playing with his hair as you ask the pair about what they’d mentioned earlier. 

they both give quick confirmation, and you explain your idea. both disappear for a second, before confirming that their boyfriends were down to meet up with everyone. you decide to work out a meeting time later, so you set aside your phone and curl up with chan, tugging a blanket over both of you and closing your eyes, falling asleep in your boyfriend’s arms.

[paintyoureyeswithavividmind]

close to home | chapter forty seven

close to home | chapter forty seven

plot: the reader arrives at the Kingdom

series masterlist

Pairing: Eventual Daryl Dixon x f!reader Word Count: 1,502 Warnings: violence, blood, typical twd A/N: thank you for reading!!! I'm going to Boston this weekend to see 5sos and won't be home till Monday, so I won't be updating again until early next week--sorry lovelies!! Gonna try and update twice today if I can

When the horse led you through the gates of the Kingdom, you truly did feel like you were entering one. You felt more level-headed when they’d given you food and water on the ride back. 

There were people around, and you tried to take in as much as possible. Gardens and schoolchildren were sitting outside. There was a choir singing somewhere. And there was laughter. So much laughter. 

When you saw Morgan standing with a blond haired boy, you wanted to cry at the familiar sight. You climbed off the horse and set Tora down before running to Morgan. 

“(Y/N),” Morgan laughed when you crushed him into a hug. You were never particularly close to him, but he was a part of your group and your family. 

“Dianne said Daryl was here and supposed to stay here. Where is he?” You asked desperately as you pulled away from the hug. 

But the look on his face was enough to tell you he wasn’t here. “He left this morning. I’m sorry. “

You laughed, though, for the first time in a while. “It’s okay. It’s okay. He got out. He went to Hilltop, right?”

Morgan nodded and smiled at you. “Yes. Come on, we need to have the doctor look at you. And you will need to meet the King.” 

You looked at Morgan in confusion as he wrapped his arm around your shoulders. “The who?”

***

After getting an all-clear from the Kingdom’s doctor, and scarfing down as much food as you and Tora possibly could, Morgan led you to where the King was. You learned his name was Ezekiel, and he was a bit out there. 

But Morgan vouched for him, so you followed him into the ‘throne room’ with Tora by your side. When you walked into the room, your eyes widened, and you grabbed Morgan’s arm at the sight of a tiger. 

“What the fuck?” You breathed out. 

“Fair maiden,” King Ezekiel shouted, “I am honored to have you a guest in our fair Kingdom. I welcome you. And your furry beast.” 

You glanced at Tora, and started jogging up to catch her before she ventured too close to an animal that could kill her in a second. “I uh, um, thank you, sir. Your honor. King.” You stumbled over your words. 

“Our dear friends from the great Alexandria told me of your situation, and what happened. Although the Kingdom did not play a part in your troubles, you have its sorrow and thought.” King Ezekiel said. 

“Thank you,” You said, running your hand through Tora’s fur and trying to keep her settled. “I like your tiger.”

King Ezekiel smiled, “Her name is Shiva. And yours?”

“This is Tora; she’s been with me since before. Shiva?”

“The same as you,” The king said. He stood up and quietly told the man to his right something. You assumed it was to put Shiva somewhere because the man took the chains and led the big cat out of the room. 

Then he gracefully jumped from the stage and approached you. You got a better look at his face and admired it for a moment as he scratched Tora behind the ear. “I invite you and Tora to spend the eve with us here at the Kingdom. I can imagine you must want to get to the Hilltop as quick as you can. But I insist you take the night to recover.”

You glanced at Morgan, and he nodded, so you did as well. You were almost friends. You knew it. You knew in your bones that you didn’t have anything to fear from the Kingdom or its people. Morgan was here; he obviously liked it here. You were with friends. And that made you smile the biggest smile. “We can stay.”

***

King Ezekiel requested your presence after Morgan settled you in a room across from his. You opted to leave Tora in the room for a little while because you weren’t sure where the tiger was and didn’t want to risk it. 

Dianne came by with the message from the King, and she also brought you a fresh set of clothes. You’d never been more thankful when she told you to wash up first and brought you to the showers. 

So now, twenty minutes later, you were dressed in a black tank top and a flannel, leggings, and a near pair boots.They were used, but it made it better, because they were already worn in. 

The King sat across from you, and Morgan and a guy named Jerry sat with you. 

“Tell me, miss (Y/N), how you came to be with your group? I would love to know your tale.” 

You didn’t have any hesitation about telling him. Aside from the fact that you already considered him a friend, you felt like you could trust him and this place. So you told him about your life before and after the world's end. You told him about the prison after it ended and watched their horrified expression as you told them about Terminus. 

You didn’t tell them about the people you lost because even though it’s been some time, all the wounds reopened when discussed. 

And then, finally, you told them about Alexandria, how you got there, and what happened afterward. 

Your story took you through dinner, an assortment of chicken, and the freshest vegetables you’ve had in a long time. It was mouth-watering. You made sure to fold plenty of the chicken into a napkin, so you could take it to Tora. 

“Your journey is of greatness, and I am honored to have such a warrior amongst us,” The King said. 

“Do you like cobbler?” Jerry asked you. 

“Jerry,” The King said. 

Their exchange made you laugh, and you looked at Jerry, “Yes, I do.”

***

You sat with the King, Morgan, and Jerry for quite some time before the King suggested he give you a tour. You weren’t sure there was a point to it because you would be leaving in the morning, but you accepted because he made you feel like a friend. And with Sherry gone and not seeing your family in weeks, you desperately needed it. 

King Ezekiel showed you around the Kingdom, with Jerry and Morgan following closely behind. He pointed out the gardens, the apartments where most everyone resided. He should you the wells for water, in case you needed some, and the training ground for their ‘royal army’. You could see how proud he was. You believed him to be an accomplished leader. 

The sun was nearly set when the tour ended outside the building you would be staying in. You thanked both Jerry and the King profusely. 

“In the morn, I will have Dianne pack your supplies for the road and give you a weapon. I cannot, in good conscience, let you go out without one.” King Ezekiel said. “And, of course, my people know the way to the Hilltop. I will have a map provided and see if they can get you a car.”

“I don’t know how to repay you for this, but thank you, King Ezekiel.” You told him. 

He and Jerry bid their goodnights, and you and Morgan entered the building. 

“I feel like I’m in a fairytale here,” You playfully joked. “But I actually like it. It’s fun.”

“Many people do, I think that’s why they go along with it,” Morgan told you as you walked. 

When you got to the doors, you looked at Morgan. “Rick was here to get them to fight, wasn’t he? And the King said no?”

Morgan nodded, and you could see the contemplation on his face. “The Hilltop stands with Alexandria. Rick asked me to talk to the King about joining, but…”

You nodded, knowing how he felt about killing. “I think he will. He just needs to be pushed. Goodnight, Morgan. I’ll see you in the morning.”

***

Dianne brought you a bag with more than enough supplies in the morning. Enough to last you for at least a week. You made her take a decent amount of it back. You couldn’t take advantage of their hospitality like that. 

You met with the King for one last meal together, and while he tried to persuade him to stay, you wouldn’t budge. So he led you to the front gate, where a few guards were waiting. They succeeded in bringing you a car. 

“Thank you, King Ezekiel. Really.” You said. “I don’t think I’ve met someone like you for a long while. I really hope I get to see you again.” You told him. 

The King smiled and bid his goodbye, and you gave Morgan and even Jerry a hug. Then you and Tora climbed into the car. With one last look in the rearview mirror, you left the Kingdom, and headed towards home.

[be-with-me-so-happily]

Not What We Bargained For

PART 2 of 2

|| PART 1 ||

<< Request >> "If it's possible, could you make a story about harry hating you and you didn't know why and then one day you have to share a hotel room with him and you find him jacking off in bed!?! Smut obviously and a fluff ending please?" @pandisasterthatlived

~~~~~

Summary: Harry dislikes YN. She dislikes him. As long as they avoid each other, they can manage to be in the same office. But an unexpected work trip creates more tension than anticipated.

A/N: Well, the people have spoken and I am more than happy to have listened! Hopefully those of you who enjoyed the first part will enjoy this part just as much.

>> Warnings: 18+ ONLY: Some explicit language, workplace rivalry & jealousy, alcohol consumption, SMUT - oral (male receiving), fingering, unprotected penetration

~~~~~

YN knows Harry's not her biggest fan, and she really doesn't know what she did to make him hate her so much, but she's accepted the fact that working closely with Harry just isn't a pleasant experience.

This work trip has been no exception. It wasn't the original plan for her to be there, but she idiotically assumed he would at least appreciate the help. She was wrong.

The way he cut her off during the meeting, and scolded her afterwards, she really shouldn't be surprised.

She was worried he'd be snappy again this morning, since she had heard him tossing and turning during the night, but his mood is completely different. He's smiling, joking, and even winked a couple of times. It's totally throwing her off and she's not really sure how to handle it.

But she knows Harry hates her, and that the friendliness is just due to the fact that he is closing the deal today. At least things will be pleasant, if it keeps going this way.

~~~~~

Harry knows that the YN in his dream was not the real one. What she said and did was only what he had created in his mind for her to say and do. The way he would've wanted her to.

But that's the thing. Now he knows he wants it and he can't stop thinking about it. Does her skin feel as smooth as it looked before she got into her bed? What do her lips actually taste like? Are they as soft as he imagined? How would his name sound if she moaned it while he touched her?

A few of those questions cause a heat to rise in his body, and he is thankful she is getting changed in the bathroom so he can calm the sudden twitch between his legs. Not in the way he'd like to, because if he's honest, the only way he really wants to resolve it involves her. For now he just has to will it away.

As soon as she exits the bathroom, Harry stands up from the bed, getting a quick glance at her before she glances her eyes up to him.

"We have a little bit of time before we need to be there." He walks a little closer to her and can sense her breathing quickens. He thinks he might be making her flustered, and he likes it. "Want to grab some coffee and a bite to eat first?"

He notices her just staring, and he raises an eyebrow as he waits for an answer he thought would come easily to her. Either a yes or a no.

"Fine." She shrugs, turning away from him as she quickly grabs her bag and begins to exit the hotel room. "We can go over… your… plan for the meeting."

~~~~~

"Mr. Styles, I'm just having a few doubts about this section of the contract." Mr. Tills states, pointing down to the paperwork in front of him.

Both Harry and YN lean closer, one on each side of the potential new client, as they read over the words that seem to be making him hesitant.

"Well-" They both utter at the same time, causing YN's gaze to shoot up at him and be met with a cheeky smirk. Her brow furrows in confusion at his gesture and he feels a small pain in his chest.

"Go ahead, Ms. YLN." Harry encourages, hoping to redeem himself for the scolding he had given her during the last meeting. Even before he had that tantalizing dream last night, he had laid in bed and gone over the day's events, remembering the expression of embarrassment she displayed. He originally attributed it to her pride, but ever since then he thinks he may have been wrong.

Her eyes widen at his approval and she gives a quick bite of her bottom lip, which thankfully the businessman seated next to her cannot see. But as Harry matches her gesture, she straightens up and clears her throat, focusing back on the client and the questions he needs answered.

"Oh, yes, Mr. Tills, this just means…"

Harry sits back in his chair, becoming enamored by the way she so easily explains things to this man. She is using simple words to help with understanding, without being condescending. She gives straightforward answers, but with all the necessary details. She really is good at her job, and Harry regrets not knowing that sooner.

If they can learn to work together better, they can work together more, and they can be an unstoppable team. Together.

And, of course, he cannot overlook the fact that he would much rather look at her than Doug. Her hair is down like it was last night, flawless no matter where it lays, and her lips are glossed just enough to make them shine. They look so soft, and move so seductively. He wants to be closer to them, to her. Especially in that burgundy blazer, matching pants, and a black silk camisole. It fits her body so well. He wonders, so inconveniently at this moment, if she is wearing a thong underneath, like he had envisioned during his dream in the very early hours of the morning.

"I see. Yes. Thank you for clearing that up."

Harry is snapped out of his YN-centered thoughts at his client's statement.

"Well, I think we've gone over everything then." Mr. Tills states, swiping his pen along the last few pages of the contract. "The two of you are quite a team! I look forward to working with you more."

"Thank you so much Mr. Tills." Harry replies, smiling at YN, and gathering the paperwork before shaking the man's hand. "We both look forward to it as well."

~~~~~

"We should… grab a drink." Harry suggests, a small and subtle smirk appearing at the corner of his lips, as they settle back into their hotel room.

"What?"

"To celebrate."

"Oh, right." YN clears the lump in her throat. "The 'Styles way'… so… sure."

"Your enthusiasm is overwhelming." He chuckles, shaking his head with sarcasm, but feeling a slight amount of disappointment build up in his chest. "You don't have to if you don't want to."

"Oh! No, I'll go. A drink sounds nice." She replies, still a little stunned by his suggestion. She's usually very good at problem-solving, it's what makes her so good at her job, but she cannot figure out the reason behind this sudden kindness he seems to be extending to her.

"Great!" He grins. "I kinda wanna get outta these rags though. S'alright if I take a shower and change first?"

"Oh. Yeah."

Her mind is racing as he grabs his toiletries and heads to the bathroom. He's being so nice, and it's probably just the excitement of closing the deal, but it is still throwing her off, as has been basically all day.

She rummages through her suitcase to find an appropriate outfit, wondering what the hell she should wear to get a drink with the coworker who hates her, but is suddenly being cordial. She doesn't realize how long she's been staring at her clothes until she hears the shower turn off, and a growl comes from Harry.

"Shit! Umm… YN…?"

"Yeah…" She awkwardly replies.

"I forgot my change of clothes." He clears his throat. "I need to come out to grab them."

"Okay." She responds, shrugging her shoulders as if he can see the gesture.

"So that means I need to come out in my towel."

Her heart stops for a moment. She's never even seen Harry in casual clothing, and now he will be walking around with a rectangle piece of cotton wrapped around his body.

"Oh. Okay."

She hears the door open and keeps her eyes fixed on her pile of clothes, pretending to search for something to wear even though she has it already picked out.

"Are you gonna shower too?" He asks, causing her to whip her head around to him, and a blush immediately fills her cheeks.

She was hoping his body would be ugly in some way, even though she knew that was not going to be the case. He's attractive, she's always thought that, and everyone else in the office would agree. But the sight before her is something even more gorgeous than she could've imagined.

His chest, stomach, and arms are riddled with tattoos. She would have never known that, had it not been for this moment. He has always worn a suit. A very nice, perfectly fitted suit. But, admittedly, she finds that the tattoos make him even more attractive. There's a cross necklace sitting perfectly on his chest between two inked sparrows, and his muscles are sculpted like a monument. Even his wet curly locks manage to lay in such a beautifully effortless manner.

And then there's the towel. The towel that wraps around his waist just below two fern leaf tattoos, and her mind can't help but wonder what been covered underneath.

"YN? Are you gonna take a shower?" His question, and the sound of his suitcase, snap her out of those enticing thoughts.

"Yeah. Yes." She gulps, hoping he didn't catch her staring, as she quickly grabs her stuff. "I'll, yeah, go do that now."

"M'gonna just change out here then."

He chuckles as he notices the blush on her cheeks and her sudden frazzled demeanor. He saw her gaze fixate on his body, but if she were the one in the towel, he'd do the same thing. Unfortunately for him, he won't get to see that, because she remembered to take her change of clothes into the bathroom.

YN's thoughts ignite a heat inside as she turns on the shower, unable to shake the vision of what Harry would look like naked. Though, there wasn't much left to imagine.

She's heard rumors around the office, brushing them off since that's never been information she's needed, cared about, or considered as anything but gossip. But now, as she's alone in the bathroom, it's all she can think about.

None of it is appropriate. Not only is he a coworker, not that it would truly matter, but he hates her. That wouldn't suddenly change. Sure, he's being pleasant now, but once the high from the successful deal wears off and they go back to the office, things will go back to the way they were.

She quickly washes off, realizing she hasn't actually done any of her shower routine yet, and needs to hurry as to not keep Harry waiting much longer.

After she steps out and dries off, she throws on a pair of nice jeans and an off-the-shoulder top, finishing with a light layer of makeup.

She walks out of the bathroom to see Harry looking in the wall mirror, rolling up the sleeves of his shirt, leaving the top three buttons undone. He's always looked good in his suits, but the tease of his sparrow tattoos and his more casual outfit is something else altogether.

He spins around and she notices he gives her outfit a quick glance up and down, probably examining whether she is dressed appropriately, which she does second guess after seeing how good he looks.

"You look nice." He states, not even attempting to hide the act of his top teeth biting down on his bottom lip. "Really good."

"Oh. Thank you." She clears her throat, almost stunned by his compliment, surprised by both the blush that instantly forms on her cheeks, and the look in his eyes that she would almost describe as desire. "You do too."

"Ready?" He asks, putting on a watch and a few rings to match.

"I just…" She points down by the foot of her bed. "Just have to put on my heels."

She proceeds to strap her feet in, trying to compose herself before grabbing her clutch, and leading the way out through the hotel room door.

The two walk down the hallway in silence towards the elevator, and again in silence waiting for it to reach their floor.

As the doors open and she begins to enter, his warm hand lays gently on the small of her back, causing her to tense up for a quick moment.

He pushes the button and leans against the back wall, arms casually across his body and his cologne swirls around her.

She leans her shoulder against the side wall, staring at the elevator doors, and shaking all of these random, inappropriate thoughts out of her head. This is Harry after all. Harry, who she works with. Harry, who basically scolded her yesterday for trying to help. Harry, who hates her, and who seems to have no reason to feel any other way.

It doesn't matter what he looks, what he smells like, what sudden and random and small amount of amiability he is throwing her way today. It doesn't matter how heat pooled between her legs at the sight of him half naked. He is still Harry, and Harry still hates her.

So why does she all of a sudden feel him standing behind her, his breath softly hitting the back of her neck? And why is it causing her heart to race and her knees to feel weak?

~~~~~

"How about two tequila shots?" Harry asks, his lips pulling in and eyes going wide as they both sit on stools at the bar.

"Tequila?" She groans.

"This is my celebration, right?" He teases, nudging her arm with his elbow as he sends her a wink, then grabbing the attention of the bartender to order their drinks.

Even though she's wondering why he's acting this way, she does like seeing him so relaxed, so happy, and dare she say, even a bit flirty. If they actually got along, she'd be extremely flattered and giddy.

"You're right. We are doing it the 'Styles way', so… tequila shots it is." She shrugs, watching as a grin spreads widely across his face, and causing his dimples to cave in deeply. She sees how he can win anyone over, and if she didn't know any better, she'd think that's what he is trying to do to her.

"Cheers!" Harry exclaims, grabbing a shot glass as soon as it's placed in front of them. They clink together and he smiles against the rim as her face contorts into one of disgust when she takes the liquid down.

"Oh god. The 'Styles way' is… painful." She whines, wiping a drop of tequila from her lips. She looks up to be met with Harry's entrancing dimples again, and her breath stops for a moment. How strong is this tequila? Because she is already feeling hot and bothered.

"Should we have another?" He asks, and she figures it might be worth it if it can help her to relax. She nods and he signals the bartender again, catching glimpses of her from the side of his eye whenever he gets the chance. She looks so good, yet somewhat uncomfortable, and he wants to remedy that.

The glasses are placed in front of them again, and they raise them up as Harry sarcastically clears his throat to make a toast.

"To… us! And… our… successful trip! Yeah?"

He smiles and shrugs, playfully, as he brings the glass to his lips. He's smiling, but there's something that's bothering her, something that she needs to get off her chest.

"You know…" She takes her next shot and furrows her brow. "Just because I wasn't originally assigned to work on this with you, doesn't mean I would've ruined it for you."

"Oh, umm, yeah…" Harry stutters, taken aback by the sudden change of demeanor and tone in her voice. He had sensed she was uncomfortable but didn't expect this.

"I get that you are the top guy or whatever, but I work hard too."

"Okay." He replies, unable to get any other words out due to the sudden confrontation.

"I try to give ideas that'll help everyone, I try to take all the assignments that no one wants to do…" She pinches the bridge of her nose before swiftly dropping it and looking back at him. "I worked on three accounts with Susan. Nobody likes Susan!"

"I like Sus-"

"Fuck off, no you don't."

Harry can't help but laugh. He knows she was just correcting him, but he loves her banter. If it weren't the completely wrong moment, he'd tell her she looks cute when she's mad.

"No, you're right, she's terrible."

Another frown appears on her brow and he can see her jaw clench tightly.

"Yeah, well… you're difficult to impress anyway."

"What?"

"Nevermind." She utters, turning back towards the bartender to signal for another round. She crosses her arms around herself, and Harry can see how quickly her chest is moving as she tries to catch her breath.

"Tell me." He responds, unintentionally reaching out to her chin and turning her head to look at him. Her breath hitches and expression softens for a moment. He inhales deeply, as the first real touch of her skin, and the gentle yet passionate look in her eyes, sends a spark through his veins. His hand drops and he clears his throat, continuing to keep his eye contact as he scoots a little closer. "Please."

Her eyes shoot down to his hand and back up to his face, a little stunned that he touched her, and with such tenderness. Her mind is scrambling to figure out why he did it, because she liked it.

"It's… it's just that… well, you're an asshole." She states bluntly.

"Oh, okay." He chuckles.

"Well, you don't like me for some reason, and you don't want to work with me…"

"Right. Well, I didn't know I was missing out on all this." He replies sarcastically as he points between the two of them.

"See? There it is again." She rolls her eyes, even though she holds back a smirk, actually being entertained by his witty comeback. "I'm gonna need another round."

"Allow me." Harry smirks as he gets his wallet out, wanting more than anything to keep this night going, to spend more time with her like this. The longer they interact, the more he is enchanted by her, and maybe he can prove her wrong.

"Wow, Styles, a gentlemanly gesture?" She quips, causing a grin to spread across his face.

"It was bound to happen sometime."

~~~~~

The night is actually going well. After a couple more shots and a lot of laughs, the two of them are finally getting along. Of course, the alcohol is helping.

Harry regrets never seeing YN like this. She's smart, fun, and sexy. The way her hair flows around her is angelic, and the lavender and vanilla scent that washes over him when she moves is delicious. He sneaks glimpses of her body whenever she turns away, her outfit hugging every curve perfectly.

As she plants her last shot glass down on the bar counter, she looks over to Harry to continue their current conversation.

"Okay, well if we're gonna talk about 'office hookups' then get this…" She pauses, quickly noticing his tongue slide over his lips while he shoots his gaze down to hers for a moment, and she feels yet another blush rising up. "Umm, so… yeah, did you know… that Doug has been hooking up with Betty?"

"Betty? From accounting?" He asks.

"Mhmm." She nods, giggling as she sees his jaw drop down and his gorgeous green eyes grow wide. She's beginning to wonder how long it would take to make her way out if she got lost in them.

"He's twenty-six. Isn't she like… forty?"

"The heart wants what the heart wants I guess." She shrugs, and finds herself unintentionally winking, holding her breath when he winks back.

Harry wants YN, that much he knows for sure.

"Makes me wonder if he isn't actually sick with the flu…" He crosses his arms, pulling one index and thumb to pinch his lip, a mischievous smirk on his face. "Maybe he just has… Betty fever…"

She lets out a loud laugh, bending over slightly and grabbing onto his forearm as she does. The touch gets his heart pumping faster.

"You wouldn't have to be here with me if he could just keep it in his pants."

"But we're getting along..." He states, displaying a wide grin.

"Oh, we're getting along now?" She giggles, rolling her eyes.

"Yeah. M'glad you're here actually, instead of Doug. I like being around you. A lot."

"Wait, what?" She scoffs, watching as his face provides no hint of sarcasm. "I think you've had enough to drink, Styles."

"M'serious, YN." He furrows his brow.

"Oh, come on..."

"I am!" He exclaims, running his hand through his perfectly tousled curls, somehow managing for them to still lay in exactly the right way. He scoots closer, causing YN's breath to hitch as she takes in his scent.

"Harry… come on… I appreciate the gesture, but I know you don't, and it's fine. We can enjoy the victory, drink, and then go bac-"

"YN, m'tryna say, m'sorry for being an asshole. I was wrong about you. You're fun, and smart. Honestly, I probably wouldn't have gotten the account without you." He replies, watching intently to gauge her reaction, feeling a thumping in his chest as he can sense her warmth.

"Harry..." She replies, crossing her arms around her waist, partly expecting some sort of sarcastic comment, but also slightly enjoying an actual compliment from him being directed at her.

"You impressed them, YN. And…" He admits, his heartbeat racing more now as her attention stays on him. "You impressed me."

He takes a step towards her once again, close enough for her to feel his warmth, but her body freezes. His breath is quickening and so is hers, as he stares down to her lips for yet another time tonight, wanting nothing more than to feel them against his.

"Everything about you does."

Her thoughts are racing. Is he just complimenting her work skills, or is it something more? She wants it to be something more. She can feel him, so close, and her body heat starts rising. But it can't be what she thinks it is, or what she hopes it is. She has to get a grasp on things, on herself, and clear her thoughts.

"I, uh… I think I'm gonna… head back."

"Oh. You don't want another shot?"

"Umm, no. Thank you. I'll just… see you back in the room." She replies, swiftly getting off the barstool, completely flustered and thrown off. She grabs her bag, leaving some cash, and begins to walk away.

"Wait. Shit. YN." Harry responds hurriedly, his footsteps quickly following behind.

"Hey, YN, hold on."

Right before reaching the elevator, her heel gives out and she stumbles. Suddenly, Harry's strong hands grab onto her waist to steady her. If her thoughts were bouncing around and the drinks weren't taking control of her body, she would hear how unsteady his breathing has become, and how hard he nervously just swallowed down the lump in his throat.

She lets out a huff, confused and flustered, and even a little angry at all these conflicting feelings for him. And all these conflicting actions from him.

He spins her around to face him, his palms still holding her waist and his deep green eyes staring into hers. Her breath hitches as she notices his gaze drop to her lips again, and then his tongue licks his own, which has been happening a lot tonight.

"What are you trying to accomplish, Styles?"

"What do you mean?"

Her gaze drops down to where his warm hands are gripping her, gently and safely, but also seemingly determined and purposeful.

"I'm… trying to keep you from snapping your ankle and falling to the floor." He responds, flickering his gaze all over her face to decipher any clue she might be giving about how she feels. All he's wanted to do all night is be this close to her, closer in fact, and if catching her is how he'll get it, then he'll take it.

"No… I mean… well, yes thank you…" She stutters out, finding it much harder to articulate her point than she thought it would be. "But… you're being so… nice! And… I don't know, but like, what the fuck? Why?"

"A guy can't be nice, and enjoy a night out, YN?"

She brings her hands up, not immediately realizing that they are pressing against Harry's chest until her focus clears up to find a smug look on his face, as his eyes stay stare down.

"Not you!" She quickly responds, balling up her fists against him, composing herself as much as possible to be as clear and deliberate with her next statement. "Not you with me! You're never nice to me! You hate me! You always have! And now all of a sudden you're just being nice, and complimenting me, and getting so… close? I don't get it! And it's just so confusing because it's like… why are you staring at my lips like you wanna k-"

Her sentence is cut short as Harry's palms swiftly cup both of her cheeks and his lips press firmly against hers. For those few seconds, she loses all clarity and indulges in the sweet but sensual pressure of his lips. Now she knows what they feel like, and even in her intoxicated state, she probably won't forget the feeling.

He pulls away and they both exhale heavily.

"What the-" She begins to whisper, interrupted by the elevator doors opening.

They both head in, tucking themselves in the back corner, away from the older couple on the other side. Harry continues to face her, still staring into her eyes, and causing an increase in her heart rate. She's worried he can read her thoughts with the way his piercing gaze burns into her.

She opens her mouth to speak, but he shakes his head, placing one hand back on her waist and giving it a gentle squeeze. The touch alone sends shivers down her spine. The questions she had are seeming to dissipate.

The doors open to their floor, and he guides her out of the elevator by placing a hand on her back. In a daze, she silently leads the way to their room.

They walk inside and she turns around to face him as he closes the door, finally regaining a bit of her clarity.

"What the hell was that?"

He quickly closes the distance between them, but despite her shocked expression, and much to Harry's surprise, she doesn't move.

He steps closer, leaving them an inch or two apart, exchanging quick breaths that mix between them.

Her heart begins to race as her gaze drops to his lips, seeing his tongue peek out to lick his own.

"I don't hate you, YN." He smirks. "I want you. So fucking bad."

"Wh-... What?" She utters, unsure if her words were loud enough for him to hear. Her head is spinning, but in a way that she can distinguish is not from those drinks.

He gently places his palms on her hips again and leans his mouth close to her ear, letting out a heavy breath.

"I want you." He whispers, pulling back with a smirk, flickering his gaze between her eyes, lips, and neck. "God, if only you knew what I really want to do with you right now."

A spark shoots through her body at his statement, seeing his eyes full of lust, and the warmth from his palms radiating to her core. She breathes out heavily, acknowledging that electricity has been charging between them this entire day, and now she can't deny that she wants him too. She wants him just as badly.

"So do it."

With a loud grunt, he suddenly spins them around, walking her backwards a few steps until her back is flush with the wall. His body presses into hers as he wraps one arm behind her back and the other holds the back of her neck.

He smiles as he exhales, placing his lips along her jaw, and moving them down her neck.

She grabs his biceps and lets out a breathy moan, causing the pressure of his kisses to increase.

One hand moves around from her hip, sliding along the top hem of her jeans, and stopping at her front button. It takes him no time to undo it and pull down the zipper, causing excitement to race through her at the thought of how good he must be with his hands.

His large, warm palm smooths its way into her jeans and runs along the outside of her panties, extracting a breathy moan from her lips as she pulls away from his.

He is savoring every second of this already. He doesn't even care now if this is another wet dream, she's delicious and he doesn't intend on stopping, or second-guessing.

Especially as she reaches down and begins to rub her hand over the bulge in his pants that's been yearning for her. The touch alone sends him spinning and his fingers dip into her panties, running up and down her center, as he finds out what he's doing to her.

"You're so wet, YN." He chuckles in a low, deep tone. "So wet for me, yeah?"

"Yes." She whispers in reply, squirming and aching for him to give her more. "For you… yes."

"All for me. I like that. And… m'hard for you." He admits, running his lips down her neck and across her shoulder, purposefully sucking to leave distinctive marks of what's currently taking place. Proof that this pleasurable moment was real for the both of them.

The statement sends a wave of excitement through her and she grabs onto his bulge through his pants.

"Bloody hell." He growls, nuzzling his head into her shoulder and placing his lips firmly in that one spot. He dips his fingers into her pussy, the slick noise giving him a strong boost to his ego.

"Oh my god." She moans, as he curls his fingers and instantly finds that tender spot that sends her in a daze. She moans out again and he repeats those motions, perfectly each time.

"Harry…"

"Fuck." He utters. "Say it again. Sounds so sexy when you moan my name."

"Harry… please…"

"What is it you're wanting?"

"You." She whispers, not entirely sure what she's asking for, just knowing she wants more of whatever he wants to give her. "I want you."

"Wanna feel me deep inside of you?"

She simply nods, unable to even utter her desires to him, with her mouth dropped open and her eyes squeezed shut.

"You'll have it, baby. I'll give it to you." He moans in her ear. "I'll give you all of it."

He pulls out his fingers and brings them up to his mouth, locking eyes with her as he licks off everything that they are covered in.

He grabs her hand and begins to pull her off the wall, but she pulls him right back into her.

"I want you to fuck me right here." She proclaims, biting her lower lip as she watches his pupils expand. "Fuck me raw.

"For fucks sake!" He breathes out, doing his best not to fall to his knees at her words. "You want it that bad?"

"I don't want to give you the satisfaction of answering that." She quips.

"Oh we'll both be satisfied when we're done, darling. I'll make sure of that."

If she weren't being held up by the wall behind her, and the strikingly gorgeous man pressed up in front of her, she'd be melting. His words alone seem to be sending her body into a frenzy, and the lustful look in his eyes just adds to the excitement coursing through her.

"Prove it." She teases, causing his lips to smash against hers again with a new veracity.

He draws back, moving his lips across her shoulder before kneeling and sliding her jeans and panties off. She was, in fact, wearing a thong, and his dick twitch. He kisses up her legs as he gracefully removes her heels, impressing her even that much more. She removes her shirt as he removes his, then helps him unbutton his pants as he hastily wriggles out of them, his hard dick springing out at the sudden freedom.

She can't help but stare. She's heard the rumors, and she felt him through his pants. But seeing his gorgeous naked body and his thick, throbbing dick on display in front of her sends every ounce of blood rushing to her core. She wants him badly. So badly. And by the determined look in his eyes, she knows she won't have to wait much longer to have him.

He stands in front of her, both with shallow breaths and rapid heart rates. She places her hands on his toned, tattooed chest and bites her lip at how firm it feels. It is strong, and inviting, and even sexier than what she had imagined while taking her shower.

But her mind is taken off his chest and travels down along with her hands, down his abs and hips, until she is kneeling in front of him.

"I thought…" He breathes out. "I thought you wanted me inside of you…"

She grabs his base and looks innocently up to him through her lashes. "I just want a taste first."

He throws his head back as her lips touch his most sensitive skin. He thought about this, he dreamed about this, but he never imagined it would actually feel like this.

"Oh… fuck, that feels good!" He moans, grabbing her hair tightly as the nails of her free hand dig slightly into his thigh.

She glides her tongue up his length, licking his tip before taking him all in again. She begins to pull back, and then takes him even deeper, causing a shaky breath to leave his lips as he hits the back of her throat.

"You're… fuck… you're so good at that." He throws his head back and exhales. "And taking me so… so well."

She pops off him for a moment and smirks as she sees the pleasure plastered all over his face.

"That good huh?"

"So good." He answers, tilting his head down to see the beautiful sight of her knelt down in front of him, her lips plump and her cheeks red. "But… m'not gonna last if you keep doing that."

He releases her hair and she kisses her way up his body, sucking harder on his shoulder and the base of his neck, but she stops as she feels Harry's hands squeezing on her ass and his teeth nibbling at her earlobe.

"Will you turn around, baby?"

She nods and does what he asks, resting her forearms on the wall, bending at her waist, and pushing out towards Harry.

His breath stops for a moment at the sight of her. Her body is so enticing and he can't wait to get more of it. He runs both hands up her back, reveling in the smoothness of her skin. It's so smooth and he knew it would be. He holds her hip in one hand, and grabs the base of his cock with the other, giving himself a few pumps before he runs his tip against her entrance. He's coated in her immediately and he hums as she lets out a subtle, but sensual exhale.

He guides himself slowly and a shudder takes over her body at the feel of his thick cock sliding against her walls. He isn't even fully inside of her yet and she is already feeling her knees get weak.

"Oh my god." She utters, each syllable drawn out as sensation takes over her. Every inch of him is touching every inch of her, and he is stretching her in the best way possible. "It… it feels so good."

"Tell me what feels good."

"You." She whispers, dropping her head between her arms as he hits the deepest part of her. "You feel so… mmm… so good in me."

"I like being in you." He replies, beginning to pump in faster as he grabs both hips to keep her ass against him.

"Oh god, Harry!" She can't help the loud moan that leaves her lips as his hand runs up her body, resting it on the back of her neck.

Hearing his name come from her mouth gets him wild, just like it did in his dream. But this is so much better, and he wants to hear it over and over and over, so he thrusts harder and harder.

"I think you were made to take my dick, YN."

As she moans again, he knows he loves to hear it, but now he also wants to watch it. He slows his pace and smirks as he hears her whimper.

"Hold on, baby, I wanna see you." He runs his hands up and down her sides one more time before pulling out and guiding her by the hips to turn around.

She looks as if she is in a blissful daze and it sends goosebumps all over his skin. She's liking it, and he's the one doing it for her. In his dream, it went so fast, but now he's gonna savor as much of this as he can.

She feels his palms grab the backs of her thighs and his strong arms, ones that could be sculpted in marble, pulling and holding her up so her back is flush against the wall again. She instantly wraps her legs around his waist, and reaches down to guide his dick back into her. They both exhale heavily as he resumes his thrusts and her hands instantly grip onto the slight curls on the back of his head. As she tugs, he grunts, so she does it again and smirks at the noise he makes.

"Harry…"

There it is again, his name coming from her lips, and his head shoots up from watching where they are connected to meet her gaze.

"I'm close." She whispers, biting her lip as his dimples pull in from the devious smirk that forms.

He leans closer, his lips no more than an inch from her ear. "Soak me."

"Oh my god." She pants out, feeling her stomach begin to tighten. "Harry, I'm… I'm…"

He begins kissing and nipping at her neck. His fingers dig into her ass cheeks and her mouth drops open, squeezing her eyes shut and throwing her head back against the wall.

"Look at me." Harry states.

She brings her head back and meets the intense gaze from his gorgeous emerald eyes, locked right on her.

"Harry." She whines, resisting the urge to squeeze her eyes shut again. He thrusts in harder, and deeper, and her walls clench around him as a blissful sensation runs through her veins. "Oh god, yes!"

He smashes his lips against hers and that does it. It all flows out of her and shivers her entire body as her orgasm takes over. He pulls his face back and stares with a smirk as she works through the pure ecstasy she's just been given.

As she does what she can to regain control of her breath, he grabs her tighter and walks over to the closest bed, sitting down with her straddling his lap.

One arm wraps completely around her waist as the other travels up into her hair. His eyes flicker all over her face and once they land on her lips, he meets them with his. The hand on the back of her head pushes closer, deepening the kiss as his tongue swiftly parts between, causing a whimper to fall out from her.

She tangles her fingers into his locks, beginning to grind on his lap as his hands explore every inch of her body. She leans down and begins placing kisses all down his neck, finding the exact spots that get him to squirm. As he scoots back slightly and positions one arm on the bed to hold himself up, she begins to bounce on his lap.

"This is a sight! I like it." He chuckles, his hand gripping onto her hip. Never did he think he'd see her like this, even his dream didn't do her justice. "It's gorgeous. Fuck, you're gorgeous."

She moves her lips to his, kissing as if they are starving, finally consuming the other. Each has their hands pulling on the other's hair, and she lets out a whimper when Harry's lips move to her breasts.

"Oh my god, Harry!" She tugs harder. "That… yeah, right there… feels so good."

"Yeah? Who's making you feel this good, baby?" He utters against her skin.

"You! Oh my god." She moans. "You are."

"Gonna make you cum again too, aren't I?"

"Yes." She whispers out, biting her lower lip. "You… you are. I'm so close already."

He grabs both of her hips, matching her rhythm as he gets deeper inside of her.

"I am too." He admits, squeezing her hips harder as he feels himself hit the back of her walls. "Making me… fuck… making me feel so good too."

"Good." She moans, meeting his gaze and resting her forehead against his as they continue their movements. "I want you to… to fill me up."

"I will. Fuck, I'm close." He grunts, spicking up his pace enough to that it makes her stop moving, his dick smacking into her with the most sensual sound. "I'll be… dripping out of you… all night."

"Then give it to me." She utters, sending Harry over the edge as his dick slams all the way in and he releases everything he has into her, coating her walls.

"Fuck, YN." He whispers, doing what he can to keep his pace and get her to reach her own peak.

"Harry…"

"Say it again." He asks, grabbing her chin to stare into her eyes, watching as they fill with pleasure. "YN, say my name again."

"H-... Harry! Oh my god!" She exclaims, squeezing tightly around him as she reaches her second orgasm, her head dropping to his shoulder as his strong arms wrap around her waist.

He scoots back, further onto the bed, keeping himself inside her to capture as much of this feeling as he can. He rolls her onto her back, and hovers over as he watches her regain control of herself.

She reaches up, running a hand through his sweaty hair and smoothing it over his cheek. His eyes close, resting into her touch, and her heart flutters.

As he finally pulls out and rolls off, she curls into him, wanting to still feel his touch, to still feel him close.

He runs his fingers up and down her arm, able to feel her heartbeat against his skin.

"YN, that was…"

"Outstanding?" She replies, causing his chest to vibrate with a chuckle as he's reminded of the words he chose for her to speak last night. Apparently he chose the right words.

"Way better than I dreamed it would be." He cheerfully exhales, basking in the knowledge that it actually happened this time.

"You dreamed about me?" She asks quietly, lifting her head to watch his expression change to embarassment. She suddenly feels a heat rush to her cheeks and a giddiness in her stomach.

"Umm…"

"Were you dreaming about me last night?"

"Yes…" A red hue rushes to his own cheeks and he smacks his palm against his face.

"Wait." She props herself up on her elbow with a smug grin spread across her face. "Is that why you were so nice to me today?"

"For fucks sake." He mumbles, one arm still around her waist and the other hand still flat against his face. "Yes. It… felt so real, but it wasn't, and… I wanted it to be…"

"Aww. That's kind of adorable, Styles." She giggles, jokingly tickling his side. Yet he doesn't mind, he'll accept the adorableness, because he got what he was hoping for and more.

"Oh fuck you." He smiles.

"No, you already did that tonight." She replies, leaning down and gently nibbling his earlob between her teeth. "So save that one for tomorrow."

"Ooh, there's gonna be a tomorrow?" He wiggles his eyebrows as she brings her head back up and looks at him.

His hearts stop for a second as he sees the most devious smirk creep onto her face.

"Well, that is, if this isn't all a dream…"

Main Masterlist

~~~~~

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[jorrated]

Some super stray thoughts I had while reading STCO so far:

Knuckles would NOT prioritize his past over Tikal’s suffering are you crazy in the head!!!!

Zak Simond-Hurn’s art is really charming, if it wasn't for the digital onomatopoeias, I wouldn’t mind having this style by a base for an official sonic comic! The design for the red echidna villain however… HM. Not pleasing to the eye.

I like that Ebony are having a bigger role on the fist few issues! But also Ebony’s constantly referring to Super as his friend and doing things to bring him back. Like I get it but also is this going to be her only trait now? Girl…

And porker is going on adventures again. Actually I don’t think they ever explained why Porker went back to being more adventurous in the og comic, participating in Chaos defeat and all. Not against it, and I like to see he still has a bit of bite and wasn't reduced to only a coward, tho it would’ve been cool to see at least a comment on how hes back on “adventuring”.

It’s cool to see Amy dealing with grief over Jhonny (I’ve given up trying to write his name correctly, too weird for me), but IDK. Amy probably was the best grounded character in that situation, so it feels weird to see her distressed over it? I don’t know how to explain it but in my eyes, Amy’s grief for Jhonny would definitively be more melancholic than scary/guilty. I’m glad they are trying to flesh out Amy more, but it doesn’t feel very cohesive with the comic to me. And Jhonny-zombie the killer… a bit tacky but in a funny way.

WHO…. Designed Vichama. I just want to talk. Tell me why you made him look that way. What is that. What went through your head. Dude. I get that Ebony has considerably more anthro body features than the other animal characters, but I feel like Vichama crosses the line into the “gross valley”. If he were drawn closer to how Zachary is I probably wouldn’t care, he probs would’ve looked like an Archie character. But the bulging muscles are kinda upsetting to look at. Cover up man.

So Shadow was created by some enemies of the echidnas. Noted.

Big and the Drakon prosecutor are actually really cute. I like them. Knuckles trying to break Ebony’s spell on Tikal is making me fume. HE WOULDN'T TRY TO DO THAT!!!!! He maybe would be a little desperate trying to trigger some memories but he wouldn't knowingly hurt someone to get information!!!! There is a pannel tho in this part of the comic that makes Knux ask “Where is Porker” and then “Where is the emeralds”. THAT is Knuckles to me, checking in on people before anything else.

Knuckles not being able to carry Big is bullshit. KNUCKLES PUNCHES ROCKS IN HALF LMAO. It’s fine I assume they need to be separated for a reason.

ROUGE STICK LEGS. Somebody please give my girl a double cheeseburger with extra fries and a big gulp of soda.

Actually I love that Rouge is a cunt here. Girlboss!!!! Stole this dudes emeralds AND left them to die, queen shit. Didn’t work but she did have the intent to kill them.

Big wouldn’t eat his friends….. He’d never eat Froggy, and DP (Drakon Prosecutor) even tho looks like a fish, Big considers a friend. BIG WOULDNT THINK ABOUT EATING HIS FRIENDS!!! HE IS A KIND BIG GUY!!!!!!!!!!!! ← most egregious mistake until now. Fucking funny tho can you imagine dying by vore They kept Mighty funny, that’s good.

MMMMN. I like that Sonic is consistently arachnophobic. Really nice continuity. How he first met Shadow tho… It felt underwhelming? Like yeah we know they were going to meet some time but IDK. The framing/pacing is weird to me. Either have them meet quickly at the start of the issue and Sonic is like “IDK WHO that guy is but I don’t like him!!!” or have them meet at the end of the issue, but only show Shadow in shadow (lol) to hook to the next issue. Shadow’s bland ass “I am Shadow” has the same energy as two kindergartners introducing themselves first day of school.

Shadow’s personality is interesting tho. I like him being a bit cocky but not too much, it’s a good take on him, plus he bounces off Sonic pretty well. I do wonder what the hell they’re going to do with him tho.

Awn… acknowledgment of some of the chaotix families… Blockhead Bill my dude

Tikal being given more of a spotlight is neat. It doesn’t give her much, but it’s refreshing to see her thoughts and intentions. However, I can’t help but think that she was mainly inserted to aid Knuckles and be a well of angst. Like IDK, Knuckles has moments mourning his past, or wondering if he will ever understand his ancestors, and Tikal well… She sees things rather than feel? If that makes sense? Like in this comic she is able to see a bit of the past and think “wow this is horrible! Must be a nightmare!” but she doesn’t feel despair? Or anything much? The only moment so far she felt despair was to make Knux Angst, like “ooooh shes suffering so we need to wipe her memories, that means Knuckles wont have his backstories :(“. Smells fishy.

Oh wow, Shadow has an actually interesting backstory here. It gives a reason to follow Robotnik, hate Sonic, not give a shit, aaaand its ambiguous enough you can probably pull off whatever. Fucking congrats STCO writers.

Fave image. What the fuck are they even doing here. Freaks.

Hm. No thoughts on Shadows maybe death. Thematically it’s interesting and all, but we don’t get enough time with him to give a shit. Unless I’m reading it wrong it seems like Shadow is sacrificing himself to save Robotnik, but IDK.

Grimer develops a situatioship depression.

2007 ANTI-ASIAN RACISM. BAD.

Bro what’s with this Knuckles characterization. He would NOT be mean to Tikal. If anything he’d probably be a bit overbearing, trying to give attention to her even if she didn’t want it. I get trying to tie him living his whole life alone being overwhelmed and feeling frustrated that Tikal can’t give him answers, but he wouldn't treat her like crap what is this. I like Porker’s and Knux bro moment, but that doesn’t make up for treating Tikal badly for no reason. Where’s her catharsis? She’s probably just as confused and desperate as Knuckles but she doesn't get any of these moments. Sigh. This idea could’ve definitely worked if Tikal was pushier or more imposing, but like she doesn’t do much, so Knuckles just snaps and it feels off. Knuckles’s stories are probably the issues with the biggest potential, but the writers for sure squander him the most, whomp whomp.

“One of Sonic’s fears is seeing Amy settle down with someone else” no it isn’t shut the fuck up. And the fact they put this on the same level of fear as Jhonny death is deranged.

The tonal whiplash between character comics is p funny honestly. You’ll have one really serious comic followed by a comedic one, lil bit of a mood killer. I guess STC also did this, but to me it at least wasn't jarring like this. Like how am I supposed to process Big getting shot, after Knux and Tikal experiencing the worst nightmare of their lives, living the trauma of seeing million of dead echidnas, after Vector put angel island as a security fund for his ship LMAO.

SONIC CHARACTERS HELPINH OUT THE POLICE SFAJHBJHBWRKJBJB??????!!!!!!!!????????????????????!!!!!!!!!????????11111111!!!!!!!111!!!!111!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I hate this actually.

These Shorty and Tekno comics…… I don’t know what it is about them but god. I just don’t like them! Firstly that now it seems they are a completely separated duo from the rest of the team. Like They don’t interact with Sonic or Amy or whatever. Secondly.. Shortfuse is TOO nice. It doesn’t feel like him where is his tantrums??? And this isn’t a diss on the artstyle itself, cause I think it looks pretty nice and cute, but I don’t think it’s really fitting for the characters? Tekno and Shorty look like they’re in a shoujo manga.

I really like how Sonic is now a loser LOL. He got canceled to hell and back.

Finally Rouge makes and appearance. Kinda only realized how little she showed up during the SA2 adaptation.

Grimer destroying Sonic’s reputation is actually kinda nice. I like that they acknowledge his Robotnik situationship depression, tho I think it’s a bit over the top have him be behind EVERYTHING. Still like it tho. Go gross boy go! (Also the art in this issue is REALLY solid, wow, Zak Simond-Hurn really is my favorite artist from the STCO group).

At some point I think I need to stop complaining about Knux’s characterization. But I Do Not Like How They Write My Boy. Doc Zach is still serving cunt so that’s great. Go grandpa go!

It’s kinda awesome to see how the issues expanded through STCO’s run, but I think having so many stories at the same time kinda makes stuff bloated. Like I’m sure I’ll forget some parts of this, even if they are short bits. Like do we really need to follow 2 sonic stories and 2 amy stories at the same time? I think it would’ve been better to pace this with a limit of 3-4 stories MAX per issue. And then once a character story is done, release the next story with the same character. Sonic and Knuckles are kinda always going to be there, having the biggest pull on the comic’s lore and story, so the other ones could cycle out between amy, tekno, shorty, tails, sonic’s world, chaotix, and so on. I haven’t read some of the other non-sonic stories like decap n attack, but those could be thrown in the cycle too!

Actually I love that DP is just hanging out in Big’s restaurant. It’s goofy I really love it.

I wonder how old Sonic’s gang is supposed to be here. Like in theory some years have passed in the comic, but how many. It’s not important at all but Amy is seen drinking wine with Chrysalis and it’s like?? Is she a kid?? Is she an adult?? Is she underage drinking? Again it’s not a big deal, and I don’t even think these characters need a specific age but IDK this was odd to me.

Oof the multiple stories at the same type problem came instantly. I like how Amy acknowledges the losses of the group, Sonic is “evil”, Jhonny is dead, Tekno is missing and stuff, Porker has PTSD and cant fight… But like. That feels so weird when you have a story right next to it with Amy and Tekno together!!! This is why the pacing and bloating feels whack, the comic has continuity with SOME of the stories but not all so its confusing. I know the OG comic had moments like these but because it had less stories per issue, it was way less noticeable, and usually were one-off stories I think.

And on the topic of Porker, I did mention before how he just kinda.. went back to being more adventurous? But know the comic insists that he can’t do it? Man this is kinda messy. I don’t mind Porker starting to become more adventurous again and then maybe regressing a bit in recovery, being too much for him, but it doesn’t feel like that is what it’s being intended here. It feels like someone read STC and maybe skimmed on STCO and then wrote this, so it feels out of place? Like you have porker in the first issue of STCO going on a mission no problems at all, but then on another issue he goes on a mission to blow up an eggman database or smth and hes freaking the fuck out being nervous all the time. Like which is it!!!!! I don’t mind him progressing and regressing on his trauma but at least acknowledge or be consistent with it! Is it because the underwater mission didn’t involve Robotnik? Is that it? Who knows.

I get that Knux and the crew planned to bait Zachary and shit, but like, then why did they act like that in the previous issue? Like the plan was to break the shield so why did Porker said to Knux be careful about it? Girl. This information is only given to bait and switch the audience and it doesn’t work. Porker and Knux have no reason to pretend to not have a plan when they are alone what.

Tails working with cops I’m going to kill myself.

Oh so like. The special zone is dead for real. Like for real FR. Jesus. Could’ve let the characters grieve a bit huh.

Really liked the #250 issue (Tho its funny that I complained about the number of stories per issue, and then #250 has ONE story LOL)! It’s awesome to see the different arts from the varied artists on the STCO team. And even with my complains and whining, it’s an impressive project full of love, good to see stuff like this!

TURBO TURBO TURBO MY BOY TURBO!!!!

The art on this issue is great but some of the flow of the dialogue is off, as in, sometimes I don’t know which speech bubble I’m supposed to read next, cause usually you go left to right, but it seems this story follows top to bottom for speech bubbles and left to right to panel. Not awful but it did throw me off, and it does fuck up the pacing.

um. hi shadow? ok.

(Only read until issue #250)

[howlingday]

In the dark au I used Penny as a example because of the firsts ep of volume 1 and I imagine the scenario of Ozpin or Glynda putting Jaune on a mission to look at Penny while she is in beacon/vale

"What happened?"

"Good afternoon to you, too, Ja-"

"What? Happened?"

The headmaster of Beacon sighed as the headmaster of Atlas glared through the screen at him. Rubbing his eyes, he felt he knew this conversation was going to come up yet did nothing to prepare for it. He thought he had a few days, at least, before this call came. Hell, he expected Lisa Lavender trying to make contact with him first before anyone else. But here he was, fuming at his Valian counterpart.

"Would you believe a series of unfortunate circumstances?"

"Students are dead, Oz." Ironwood replied. "The public need to have faith in us to ensure humanity's survival. Having only one student survive initiation tells a lot more about Beacon's standards than it does about those who take part in it."

"I am aware, James." He removed his glasses, revealing dark bags under his eyes. "I am aware."

The general didn't respond, save for the softening of his hardened look. He then gave a sigh and shook his head. "You haven't gotten any sleep, have you?"

"Not since the morning of initiation, no." Little over 24 hours. Thank goodness for the high amount of sugar in his mug. "I'm assuming things are not much better in Atlas?"

"The media have been on me since the tragedy came out. Not to mention how much Schnee has been breathing down my neck to keep quiet about his daughter."

"It's to be expected of a father to be concerned with his child, is it not?"

"Any other man, yes. But you don't know him like I do. He's not angry that his daughter died. He's panicking because someone with his name failed to meet the expectations of a distant school."

"Speaking of family names, how is your second?"

"Working. Despite being given emergency leave to spend time with her family. I'm almost tempted to place her under house arrest just to make sure she's grieving properly."

"People grieve in their own ways, James."

"Yes, but the way she's choosing to grieve puts my men at risk, Oz. Not that you'd understand."

That last comment wasn't made with any scathing intention, despite how Ozpin felt at the moment. Long ago, before he was the headmaster of Beacon Academy, he did know how to lead his own battalion of soldiers. However, such memories did little to comfort those in the present.

"You're right." He nodded. "Will you be attending the memorial?"

"I intend to, if only so I know Winter will also be in attendance. Should I expect anyone of note at the memorial?"

"Of note in what regard?"

"I'm traveling with the CEO of the Schnee Dust Company and his family. You know what regard I am referring to."

"Messages have been delivered to the families. Should they not wish to participate and only want the remains returned for their own individual funerals, then I should receive notices of the fact." James held his signature firm look. Oz sighed. "Ghira Belladonna has long since denounced his association with the White Fang."

"He is still a person of interest to both the White Fang and Atlas."

"James-"

"I don't intend to arrest someone outside of Atlas, Oz, but if I'm forced to act as a huntsman-"

"Then we shall act together." Ozpin finished. "Is there anything else you wish to discuss with me, James?"

"Yes, just one more." James was quiet for a moment, but Oz was a patient man. The fact the words didn't come right out of his mouth meant that James was still uncertain about the topic he was going to present. Either his answer would be to dismiss his earlier statement, or to get to the heart of the matter. "I may have a new student for you to enroll."

[karmaisahumanbeing]

A little more about Karma?

// OOC: (this gets very long, I apologize in advance)

I sort of rambled a lot about Karma in the main post, but I still have a few things to say that I was worried about adding, because I didn't want it to be too long! (long like that sentence, gosh..)

Anyway,

From what we know about his story, he was sold to a slave dealer when he was only a child and then along the way, ended up in Ace's hold. He's completely given up by the time he meets Fyodor, as he tells our favourite russian "you should just give in."

That gives us a few bits of information, especially if we embellish a little.

Karma is fatherless. Poor soul...

Seriously though, he doesn't even mention his parents when recalling his backstory. It's easy to assume he's never met them, or he ignores their existence because they were the ones to sell him off?

It's more of a headcanon i guess, but I assume Karma has gone through more than a few owners due to the fact that he's still alive when we are introduced to Ace. If he still had some fight left in him by the time he gets to the pm, Ace would have probably just killed him. Plain and simple.

I assume Ace's territory is underground, just because I can't see any windows around the place. Due to this, living with Ace would have added another level of helplessness and isolation.

This isolation would lead to Karma thinking highly of Ace, because while he's cruel and all that, if he says he's smart and no one disputes this then he is, right? he has fifty men by his side, and was organizing a mafia takeover. Ace was probably the strongest person Karma ever knew, so yes, he thought highly of him

Subsequently, if Karma were to have survived Ace's downfall via Fyodor, I imagine he would've spent a long time unsure of himself and just living day by day, trying to make decisions for the first time that were always made for him before.

Also, he overshares and trusts people with information about himself easily. I mean, he spilled his entire backstory to Fyodor WITHOUT A SINGLE PROMPT. he definitely has trust issues, but literally can't stop himself from saying things that can be left unsaid.

With a backstory like that, our current Karma has got to be a little fucked up, right? So, things I headcanon about Karma are:

He's completely socially inept. He never had to have conversations before, so he's not very good at them (totally not self projecting)

expect lots of "uuuh.." "You're... uhmm..." "... totally.. uhm..." kinds of things, and lots of sorrys!

To make matters worse, he has a lot of social anxiety, which sometimes becomes so bad it puts him in these states where he can't even talk.

not being able to talk makes him more stressed, to the point where he starts to shake, and he can work himself up to a panic attack pretty easily

He's jumpy around even the slightest mention of the port mafia, thinking that the entire port is after him and all that. he's extremely paranoid about it all

he doesn't know anyone by how they look, and he doesn't even know most of them by name. mentionable people he does know the names of is Chuuya, Koyou, and Dazai. he doesn't know Mori by name, because Ace always referred to him as "boss"

He knows next to nothing about the outside world. he's freshly escaped, and nothing is familiar anymore after years of slavery and being kept away from people.

honestly, he would probably be semi-illiterate, but that makes things difficult blogging lore-wise so I'm ignoring that

He thinks of Fyodor as his saviour, and looks up to him

He knows very well what money can do in this world, especially after living with Ace for so long, he's become a bit greedy and/or protective of what little money he has.

deep-seeded abandonment issues. totally not projecting.

i hope that all made sense. i might feel silly later and add more, who knows...

[im-obsess-with-pixel-characters]

It's like 1 in the morning on a Sunday night right now, which is the best time to share headcanons and random piece of lore :3

Well I think it is at least, but mcd addition since I did mystreet last

•on Enki Island the most common thing you will find in it's forest are fire berries, and for a good while that's what Travis had eaten and lived off of for most of his time in the forest if he wasn't eating fish or he was eating both of them

-fire berries are basically just normal berries but they're like spicy, it has a tint of sour at first there's an overwhelming feel of sweet then it drives down into the depths of spice when you eat it, almost every time someone that doesn't know of what fire berries are and eat it does cause panic since a lot of people aren't normal to fruits being spicy, but on anky Island the fire berries are a warm delicacy fruit due to their cold climate fire berries heat up there insides and keep it warm

•Lucinda was never in particular an author in name but she did have a allies name (Winter witch) and that's the same name she goes by when realising her detailed studies of different kind of magicks

•Zenix has a rare ability he was born with that no one even knows about except for himself, this ability being shapeshifting forms and having a talent of changing and adjusting his voice to fit said person he shifted into

•Garroth had a reasonably thin relationship with Zane at least compared to Zane with Vylads relations, with such thin relations it had caused them to drift a fair amount when Vylad died, the most commotion happening a year after Vylad's death when Zane had started to act less like himself and more like their ill father

•Aphmau doesn't actually have a name in my rewrite, instead she goes by an allies until she was given the name 'Alina' as she became lord and officially took in the name 'Aphmau' later on and even far later naming her first born 'Alina'

•Dante didn't cheat on Nicole, instead they broke off with good ends while Nicole wanted a child at that time and Dante didn't, they worked it out in a way that they both can still support each other even if they weren't together. And later on couple of years after the break off Dante and Nana started seeing eachother, which did leave Nicole happy as Dante was moving just like she was

•Sasha was a kind woman, she definitely had her cold moments but she was mostly kind to anyone she meets, so when Laurance faced Sasha again it was so off putting hearing her with a hollow monotone voice that sounded so emotionless it was eerie

•On Enki Island there's a potionist called Aylin, leading off generations of immortal elves and warlocks and most likely being last one standing of their bloodline, They Travis's mother personally and of her Warlock situation, almost like a mother figure to her. Aylin is far older than anyone's knowledge some not even knowing their age and them being seemingly only in their late 30s even then their centuries old

•Laurances different eye color is explained in a very certain way in my rewrite since I have this thing called “spell iris” can't explain it now, but it will make sense. Spell iris is also kind of also the reason Travis has bright green eyes and Lucinda has dark blue eyes

•Garroth had a far closer relationship with Zenix, with even Zenix being the first to ever see his face in years. So imagine how he feels when Zenix betrayed him, since no one knew what a calling was back then they assumed it was a natural betrayal and not many people were paying attention to Zenix's blood red eyes

•Zane isn't Zane

•Gene was definitely a frustrating bunch, especially with his frustration and blind hatred for Dante. But that wasn't always the case, when first resurrected Gene was in an anomaly of his last words to Dante, he wish he could've just taken it back. But what's done was done. Shad even without physical form can control types of magicks around him and Gene's memory manipulation was an easy task to manipulate, Turning Gene's regret of frustration into burning hatred for Dante

•Travis is someone with very good aim considering he has to catch fish a lot of times freshly out Ocean or water Stream since cost of food is a a bit expensive for him. He does get coin bags from the potionist regularly per month every time he uses the money he gets to buy fruits for that month

•Katelyn can definitely be difficult to reason with at times, but for good reason. She's always been protective of family and knowing that keeping the people around her safe is a priority of her just makes her a bit more fiery than some others

I think that's all I have for now will definitely post some more if I remember to or if I have anymore

[sapphire-writes]

Read more on AO3

Paring: Aemond Targaryen x Baratheon OC

Summary: Elyse meets the other important lady in Aemond's life

Warnings: none this chapter!

Word count: 4316

previous chapter ~~ next chapter

Chapter 12: Flight

Fear spreads like sickness throughout Flea Bottom. It creeps through doorways and spreads through whispers stating dragons are demons that need to be vanquished lest there be retribution from the gods.

The walls of the Red Keep seemed to vibrate with the promise of civil unrest. Whispers of Rhaenyra coming to claim her throne, arriving any day now atop Syrax to burn the city to ash.

Elyse had received a raven from her father.

The ravens were being watched with care, Maester Orwyle had watched Elyse read the letter, and did not let her keep it.

Lord Borros had only written to Elyse a handful of times during her upbringing at King’s Landing.

Lucerys Velaryon had traveled to Storm’s End for the promise of Lord Borros' alliance with Princess Rhaenyra, should there be a war over the succession of the Iron Throne.

Lord Borros had denied him.

It was said he spoke only of his fourth daughter who resided in the Red Keep. Though this sentiment was not shared in his letter to his fourth daughter, so Elyse wondered about the validity of the statement. Regardless, he would not put his blood in harm’s way for the cause of the Pretender Queen.

The Pretender Queen.

That is what they were calling the princess as she resided on Dragonstone. As she reached out to allies to see what footing she had in the Seven Kingdoms.

The realm had bowed to Aegon. They had accepted him without a second thought. The masses always did seem to bow to the wants of men.

Lord Borros rarely expressed affection for Elyse. He had sent her pelts over the years of hunts he had completed, trophies of furs for her chambers. His letter was brief.

I have not forgotten you, daughter. I shall send word to Highgarden. You are to marry the dragon prince. Your mother is with child. She longs to see you again.

Elyse’s lips had parted at her father’s first sentence. Though she often felt forgotten, a doe alone in the capital, his words struck a chord somewhere deep within her. She suddenly remembered being a young girl, clinging to her father’s leg in the round hall before being hauled off to King’s Landing. If she rubbed her fingers together, she could almost feel the memory of the fabric of the trousers he wore that day. She could almost feel the stones she knelt upon.

Her mother, Lady Elenda, had been pregnant when she left for King’s Landing. That babe did not survive. Lord Borros longed for a son, and the news her mother was pregnant once more was unsurprising. She wondered if her mother had expressed missing her, or if this was her father’s way of saying it was he who yearned to see her. Elyse wondered if Lord Borros had written the letter at all, or perhaps the maester had placed some kind words on the parchment for her.

Elyse felt her heart break for Lucerys. She imagined how cold and frightened he must have been to journey on Arrax to her homeland. How Lord Borros must have berated him. She hoped he did not feel shameful on his return to Dragonstone.

Her heart ached for Jacaerys. The Strong Heir, people were calling him. She wondered where he would fly to, what allies he would try and bring to his mother’s cause. Assuming that was what Princess Rhaenyra wanted.

Otto Hightower had returned from negotiating peaceful terms. He returned with news, the council and members of court awaiting with bated breath.

Rhaenyra had just given birth to her first daughter. She was to be called Visenya.

Rhaenyra had contemplated the terms of peace. She was given time to accept the offer, to welcome the birth of her daughter.

The seven kingdoms seemed to collectively hold its breath, awaiting Princess Rhaenyra’s response.

Ravens arrived hourly, from all across the realm as lords declared themselves for King Aegon, second of his name.

Elyse had been given two personal guards as her envoys. As a lady in waiting she was used to the goldcloaks who fluttered about Helaena but never was she subject to this kind of protection. Ser Errol and Ser Willis had been personally selected by Ser Criston Cole at the command of Prince Aemond.

The men followed her everywhere, trailing behind her in a triangular formation. Eyes on her at all times. Elyse felt her skin crawl with the intrusion of her privacy.

“It is all a precaution,” Helaena had told her as they met for afternoon tea. The air had grown cold, almost uncomfortably so with the approaching winter, but Helaena still preferred to dine outside.

“Is it really necessary?” Elyse had asked, watching as Ser Errol swatted at a drooping flower poking out of a hedge nearby.

“Aemond insisted,” Helaena told her, a smile hinting at the corner of her lips.

Elyse felt her face flush. She had not seen Aemond since the night of the coronation feast. He had been busy with the small council, attending to the wishes of his mother and aiding Ser Criston with potential war plans. The memory of his tongue on her, his fingers inside her, made a fire pool in her lower belly.

Helaena had more goldcloaks surrounding her as well. With her new title as queen came increased threats to her well-being.

“Have you spoken to him about the engagement?” Helaena asked, taking a sip from her cup.

The back of Elyse’s neck grew warmer still. I have always wanted you. His confession played in her mind over and over again. Elyse had awoken to purple kisses littering her thighs, in the shapes of his fingers.

“It appears we shall get along fine as husband and wife,” Elyse told her friend, who smiled over her cup. Elyse felt her face warming as though Helaena could see the bruised flesh hidden beneath her skirts.

“As I had expected. What of Lord Maceon? Is little Floris excited about the betrothal?”

Elyse was thoughtful for a moment. She only assumed it would be Floris who would be offered as her replacement.

Floris was said to be the prettiest of the sisters. She had little memories of her youngest sister, the only other child after herself.

She remembered a small child with dark hair who followed her like a shadow. A girl with large blue eyes, who enjoyed music. Small hands clinging to her skirts. Elyse hoped Floris would enjoy Highgarden. She believed it would suit her more so than herself.

“I do not know,” Elyse admitted, “but from what I recall of Floris I believe she would be happy. Lord Maceon is a kind man.”

Heleana nodded in agreement, casting her gaze away from Elyse.

Elyse sensed her hesitation.

“What is it?” she asked and Helaena shook her head.

“I just cannot help but wonder… what Prince Jacaerys must think,” Helaena said carefully.

Elyse looked away. She tried not to think of it. Of Lucerys returning to Dragonstone with the news of Lord Borros denying allegiance to his mother due to his daughter in King’s Landing. His daughter, who was soon to marry the one-eyed dragon prince.

If Lucerys had journeyed to Storm’s End, Elyse wondered where Jacaerys must be. Somewhere in the realm atop Vermax no doubt petitioning other lords.

Jacaerys had never liked Aemond, even when they were small children. He would likely not be pleased with the match.

“It does not matter what Jace thinks,” Elyse told her and Helaena raised a brow.

“He is one of your dearest friends,” Helaena nudged, noticing Elyse shying away from the topic.

“Then he shall understand the duty we both have,” Elyse told her, a bit of annoyance in her tone.

Duty, he might understand. But duty was not the only reason Elyse wished to marry Prince Aemond.

The fluttering in her heart told her all she needed to know about her feelings for Aemond. And that was something she knew Jace would look down on her for.

She could picture his face, the twisted anguish it would bring him. Not only as a friend. Never just a friend.

“I wonder if his wedding to Lady Baela is still to commence within the next moon,” Helaena pondered.

Elyse nodded, pondering Helaena’s statement. She had been invited to that wedding. She had hoped to attend.

“I look forward to your wedding ceremony,” Helaena said, glancing at a spider that had ducked beneath the table, watching it glide down a single thread to meet the stone floor.

The wedding would come quickly. It would not be a grand affair, a small ceremony in the castle sept. A feast was to be held after vows were exchanged. Elyse smiled at the thought.

“As am I,” she told Helaena, causing the Targaryen queen to smile.

“Do you remember our promise as children?” she asked and Elyse snorted.

“That we would be sister wives, as Visenya and Rhaenys were, as to always be together?” Elyse said, recalling the vow they had made in childhood.

The ladies both giggled at the memory.

“I told you, I would not marry Aegon,” Elyse recalled, but her smile remained.

“I would not expect that of you. You would think me cruel,” Helaena said, “I believe it is only I who can handle him.”

A moment of silence fell between the ladies.

“I know it is selfish of me, but I am grateful Aemond shall be your lord husband,” Helaena admitted and Elyse took her hand.

“Is that awful of me?” Helaena asked, eyes watery.

Elyse’s lips pressed together in a hard smile. She felt her throat tighten with the promise of tears.

“Even if I had left for Highgarden, it would not be the end of our friendship, Helaena,” Elyse declared, causing Helaena to smile.

“I would never leave you,” Elyse promised, the words hanging in the air between them.

Helaena’s violet eyes spilled tears down her cheeks. She looked as though she wanted to tell Elyse something. As if there was imperative information she needed to share with her friend.

Helaena seemed to know more things than most. Helaena inhaled sharply, patting Elyse’s hand and averting her eyes from her companion.

Then a servant girl made her way toward the women in the garden. Though she wore her hair concealed underneath the tan bonnet, Elyse could see strands of red hair that had escaped, blowing in the breeze. Her eyes were wide as she approached the ladies.

“Your grace, my lady,” the girl said, in an accent, Elyse did not recognize, “Prince Aemond requests your presence, Lady Elyse.”

Elyse felt her heartbeat quicken. Helaena flashed her a small smile.

“Where does he reside?” Eyes asked.

“The council chambers, my lady, but he wishes you to meet him at the front gates,” she said as Elyse rose.

“I have come to escort you to your chambers, to dress in your riding leathers; I would recommend a cloak, as well as there, is a chill, my lady,” the handmaid continued.

Elyse smiled, rising from her seat.

“I apologize, I do not think we have been introduced before?” Elyse questioned. She was sure she knew everyone in the Keep by now, and this handmaid did not look familiar.

The girl smiled.

“I am Tasha, my lady. I tend to the princess and princes,” she told Elyse who nodded. Elyse had noted Dyana’s presence missing for some time. Jaehaerys had adored the servant girl and Elyse had wondered where she had disappeared to.

“Tasha is quite lovely,” Helaena told Elyse, “Jaehaera is fond of her already.”

“You flatter me, your grace,” Tasha said a blush blooming on her cheeks, eyes downcast.

After bidding Helaena ado, Elyse made her way to her chambers to change.

“Shall I braid your hair, my lady?” Tasha asked. A task usually reserved for her handmaiden Jeyne, who was not present.

“That would be lovely, thank you, Tasha,” Elyse said, sitting at her desk.

Tasha ran her hands through Elyse’s hair before reaching for her brush.

“Have you resided long in the capital?” Elyse asked, making polite conversation.

“No, my lady, I only just recently arrived. I worked previously under Lady Hollard,” Tasha informed her, beginning the braid, “how long have you resided here, my lady?”

“Forever, it feels,” Elyse said chuckling, “since I was very young.”

“An interesting place to grow into womanhood,” Tasha said and Elyse found herself nodding.

“Indeed.”

~

Aemond stood at the front gates, back turned, hands crossed behind his back. He wore his riding leathers for the occasion. As the footsteps crunched on the gravel behind him, he turned.

Elyse’s cheeks were rosy from the cool air, but they seemed to darken as he met her gaze. Her blue eyes sparkled clear and bright as the sapphire hidden beneath his eyepatch.

“My lady,” Aemond greeted her.

“My prince,” Elyse said, curtsying.

Aemond waved away the guards behind Elyse. Her eyes tracked the movement of his hand. Aemond’s mouth curved into a smile.

“Let us find you a horse, my lady,” Aemond said, beckoning her towards the stables.

“I have someone I would like to introduce you to.”

~

Elyse had met Vhagar before. Never formally, but she had seen the massive she-dragon both at Driftmark and King’s Landing once Aemond had claimed her.

Queen Alicent had been worried sick when her son was recovering due to the maiming that occurred at Lady Laena’s funeral. Though Aemond flew on dragonback home to the Red Keep, Queen Alicent forbade it until he fully recovered from his injury.

Aemond had fallen into a fever soon after the greens returned to the Red Keep.

Vhagar was inconsolable, a dark shadow over King’s Landing. Her screams were constant for a week’s time as she flew lamenting. Even the darkness of night would not calm her. She would not sleep. She would not eat.

She had just lost one rider, another loss this soon would be agonizing.

Vhagar had taken residence on the beach of the Iron Gate. No one dared approach her.

Elyse remembered watching from her window, feeling the breeze from Vhagar’s gigantic wings as she flew above the Keep. Her roars shook the foundations of the castle.

She remembered Aemond, who rose from his bed in his delirium, desperate to fly one last time if he was to die. He had just gotten a taste, and now the Stranger wished to take him.

Queen Alicent had held her second son in her arms, as sweat soaked through his clothes. She had trembled as he cried, as he screamed for his dragon.

Elyse remembered praying to the gods, old and new, that would Aemond live. She prayed for Helaena, for the Queen, and for the dragon outside her window. She prayed for herself. The maester had reopened Aemond’s stitching, drained fluid and pus with leeches, and left the socket open. Then everyone had waited.

The night was long. Queen Alicent stayed by her son’s side the entire time. Elyse stayed in Helaena’s chambers, holding her companion as she wept for her brother.

Only when Aemond’s fever broke the following morning did Vhagar stop her lamenting.

Aemond rose from his bed and looked at his mother.

“Where is she?”

~

Aemond was leading her far outside of the Red Keep, past Dragon’s Gate, and into the grassy hills of the Crownlands. There was tension in the air between them, Elyse was sure if they weren’t on horseback she would throw herself into his arms.

“I received a raven from my father, this morning,” Elyse said, snapping the thread between them.

“What does your lord father say?” Aemond asked as Elyse’s mare brushed against his.

“He intends to write to Highgarden,” Elyse told him, “and my lady mother is with child again.”

Her jaw clenches at the end of her sentence.

“This is good news, yes?” Aemond asked, noticing Elyse’s tone shift. Elyse wet her lips.

“Mother struggles with childbearing. I worry for her health,” Elyse admitted, feeling an ache in her chest. She had scattered memories of her mother, seemingly always in the birthing bed, too sick with exhaustion to rise.

Aemond studied Elyse’s expression.

“We shall visit,” he promised, “after the wedding. You have been away from your home too long.”

Elyse felt as though her heart may burst from his kind words. His kindness shines through when he wants it to; or maybe when he lowers his guard. When his muscles relax, the tension releases from his shoulders, and his jaw. It is a rarity, Elyse believes.

“Aemond, I would love that,” she said softly, touched by his thoughtfulness. Aemond shied away from her gaze, clearing his throat. The intimacy of his proposal weighed heavily between them.

“Here we are,” Aemond said, as they made their way over to a clearing surrounded by several oak trees.

As Elyse dismounted her steed, she was afraid her legs would fail her. The air was cool and crisp, a slight breeze made Elyse inhale a deep breath of fresh air.

If Elyse turned around she could see the red towers of the Keep in the distance stretching towards the sky, like the fingers of some old god reaching towards the heavens.

Aemond had dismounted his horse as well and reached for the reigns of Elyse’s mare before tying them to a tree. Elyse raised an eyebrow.

“Are we to picnic?” she asked and Aemond shook his head.

“Not today,” he told her finishing the knot and patting his horse.

“Come,” he beckoned, and Elyse followed. The pair walked over a nearby hill that lead to a grassy clearing. Elyse felt the ground rumble beneath her boots.

Vhagar lay in the dip of the earth, as though she were a curled-up cat, not the oldest, largest dragon in the world. Her bronze scales shone in the late afternoon sun, green and blue reflections glimmering.

Her eyes were closed, until she breathed in deeply, sensing the pairs’ presence. Her eyes snapped open. A beautiful jade, the color of wildfire. She picked her head up turning it towards her rider.

Aemond had taken several steps ahead of Elyse, his body a barrier between the doe and the dragon.

“Lykeri, Vhagar, ziry iksos issa,” Aemond’s called.

Vhagar roared in response to her rider, and the very air seemed to vibrate with the force of her call. Elyse could feel Vhagar’s call rattle her bones.

Aemond let out a laugh. Elyse tore her eyes from the beast then. She’d never heard him laugh like that; not a chuckle or a polite acknowledgment. A true laugh. She found herself smiling.

“Lykeri,” Aemond teased, patting her snout. His hand was the size of her right nostril, which emitted grey smoke. Aemond turned towards Elyse a grin on his face.

He held his hand out towards her.

Elyse had never braved the underbelly of the dragonpit. She had come face to face with Dreamfyre a handful of times and that was it. This was different. This was the dragon that Visenya rode. The dragon that had seen Dorne. The dragon that had helped conquer the seven kingdoms.

Elyse stepped forward, curling her fingers over Aemond’s.

Vhagar was watching her, green eyes curious. She made a low clicking sound in the back of her throat.

“Lykeri, Vhagar. Bisa iksos issa riñnykeā,” Aemond crooned, the Valyrian dripping from his tongue like honey. This is my lady. Elyse wished to request he speaks it more often.

Elyse swallowed the fear inside her and pushed away the nerves eating away at her insides as she placed her hand in Aemond’s.

The dragon’s chest rumbled, as though a cat purring. Her eyes gleamed as she stared at Elyse. Staring into Elyse’s eyes, Vhagar suddenly let out a sharp chirp, before returning to a purr.

Aemond looked at Elyse, tugging her closer with the hand he held. Reaching up, he placed Elyse’s hand atop Vhagar’s maw.

Elyse had expected she would feel cold, perhaps slimy even like the frogs in the ponds in the gardens of the Keep. But Vhagar was warm, her scales smooth and thick like armor. Elyse released a shaky breath.

Aemond’s eye never left her face as he watched Elyse stroke Vhagar. He wasn’t entirely sure what made him want to introduce them. Something had tugged within him as he prepared to go flying.

“She’s magnificent,” Elyse breathed and Aemond hummed in response.

“Come, my lady,” Aemond said, motioning towards the ropes that dangled from Vhagar’s back. Elyse followed them with her eyes, seeing Aemond’s saddle; a small speck upon her back.

Elyse froze, all her muscles feeling as though they had turned to jelly. Vhagar exhaled suddenly, grey smoke curling towards the sky.

“I- um, I do not-” Elyse began, the words becoming lost in her throat.

“You wish to see the world, yes?” Aemond asked, stepping close to her, “Volantis, the Free Cities?”

Elyse nodded. He had remembered.

“You are to be my lady wife. There is no place you cannot go,” he promised, stepping closer to her.

“I will not deny you anything,” he told her, “anything you wish, any city you desire. You need only climb.”

And so Elyse did.

It took several minutes to climb Vhagar, Aemond climbing below her as though to make sure she would not fall. Though it took much longer due to Elyse’s inexperience, Aemond did not mind.

She held onto the ropes tightly, the material digging into her palms leaving angry red streaks, as she pulled herself upwards. Elyse glanced at the ground briefly but quickly brought her gaze back to the scales in front of her. The ground was very very far away.

“Warrior save me,” Elyse whispered to herself, as she continued her climb. She imagined she was not Elyse, she was Visenya, Targaryen Queen ascending her dragon to conquer the seven kingdoms. Visenya would not have been afraid.

As they reached the top, the wind tore through Elyse’s braid, several strands of hair coming loose around her face. Aemond seated himself on the saddle, straddling his legs as though on a horse. As Elyse stood on Vhagar’s back, she looked at the Red Keep in the far-off distance.

“Sit here,” he motioned and helped Elyse straddle the she-dragon in front of him. Elyse placed herself in front of him, feeling Aemond’s hot breath on her neck. She pressed into him, back flush against his chest, face burning.

“Sōvētēs!” Aemond shouted, and Vhagar began her ascension, large feet pressing the ground, propelling the dragon toward the sky. Her wings flapped, gathering the winds beneath her.

Vhagar took to the skies.

Elyse’s eyes were wide, thighs clenching the saddle, knuckles white against the reigns.

Aemond smiled coyly, pressing the sharp curve of his nose beneath her ear into the spot he already knew was sensitive. Elyse inhaled a sharp breath, a tingle rolling down her spine.

“It’s alright,” he murmured, lips dancing on her skin. Elyse closed her eyes as Aemond brought his hand to hold her waist. He brought his other to hold her stomach, pressing her back flush against him.

“Look,” Aemond said, and Elyse opened her eyes. The waters of Blackwater Bay sparkled beneath them. Elyse let out a laugh, as Vhagar dove towards the sea. Elyse felt her stomach drop, her bottom lifting from the saddle, thighs still clenched.

Her braid blew wildly behind her as Vhagar suddenly pulled herself up, letting her feet and wings drag in the salty water. Mist sprayed up her back, sizzling into steam with the heat of her body.

Elyse laughed again, before letting loose the reigns she held, throwing her hands over her head. Aemond kept his hands securely around her, holding his lady to his dragon. He could not help the smug smile that crept onto his face at the delight the ride was bringing her.

Elyse swore she was weightless. She felt as though she herself was the dragon beneath her, simply flying of her own accord. How incredibly freeing it must be; to be a Targaryen. To be an unstoppable force of nature, to go anywhere you desire.

She screamed then, high-pitched, a joyful sound. A child running in from the rain. Elyse could not remember the last time she felt so free. As Vhagar continued to fly she craned her neck to look at Aemond.

Aemond was already looking at her, hand tightening around her waist. His lips were parted, a soft smile on his mouth that reached his eye. He leaned forward then, capturing her lips in a kiss. The wind tore around the lovers who stayed locked in their embrace long after Vhagar had landed on the outskirts of King’s Landing.

~

Prince Jacaerys had been flying for too long. The air was warm, the breeze blowing his dark hair from his brow. His legs ached from the journey, as Vermax descended to the courtyard below.

“We send Lucerys North, I shall travel to the Riverlands,” Prince Daemon had instructed days earlier, as Princess Rhaenyra rested in her birthing bed. Her recovery was slow from the intensity of her labors, and she had yet to rise.

“You shall journey south,” Daemon continued, looking towards Jacaerys. Jace had stood tall, a solemn expression on his face. As Lucerys had traveled to Storm’s End, Jace had traveled to the Vale. His trip had meant to extend to the North to request the allegiance of Cregan Stark when a raven arrived at the Eyrie causing Jace to change course and return to Dragonstone.

Three dragons departed the island of Dragonstone, as a newborn babe wailed from within.

Jacaerys eased from his mount of Vermax and the dragon cried out, a loud call towards the guards before him, who backed away at the sound. Jace’s thighs ached as he began walking, the feeling suddenly unfamiliar from his travels.

Jacaerys looked towards the beauty of Highgarden and went inside.

A/N: Hope you enjoyed it! Feel free to reblog, or leave a kudos or comment if you want to 💚

[draconscious]

NAME : dan!!

PRONOUNS : he/him

PREFERENCE OF COMMUNICATION : tumblr im. discord. passenger pigeon. I'm very slow sometimes but you should plot with me!!

NAME OF MUSE(s) : clair, cynthia, barry, jupiter/eris + so many mooore (how did it come to this? LMAO)

BEST EXPERIENCE(S) : dedicating this section to both ash (@analuein) and aya (@distortsverity)! ash and I have been writing together for infinity years right here on tumblr. no matter the muse, it's always a blast spinning up plots and watching the magic unfold from there with her. from thorton to violet, to noland and clair. from wildencounters to indie. it's been a fantastic ride. day one. 😎

I transitioned from group rp to indie a few years ago and--at the time--I was all alone. I had no connections, just a lonely barry blog to my name. I wrote drabbles by myself in the dark for two weeks until aya came across my blog with her hikari, and everything just clicked. aya made me feel included, reached out with ideas, plots and feedback, and showed love to barry and all of my muse(s)--and to this day, I still feel TREMENDOUSLY grateful for the helping hand when I felt so isolated. I definitely would not still be writing here without her.

since then, I've had an amazing time here. writing with so many different people, muses, and groups--it's all so good. my best experiences happen when I'm writing (or even plotting) with someone, and everything just works, flows, and fits together and I can just feel that shared excitement. that feeling that we're building a great story together. that's magical. that's why I'm still around, trying new muses, diving headlong into amazing plots/dynamics, letting my imagination run wild, and--as always--writing a lot. much love to EVERYONE who has helped keep that fire burning over the years, but especially ash and aya for giving that flame a chance in the first place. tysm. ❤️

RP PET PEEVES / DEALBREAKERS : it's been said, but--on a personal level--I wish private communication would happen more, specifically when it comes to interest levels. my time is becoming more and more limited here (sad as that is) and I have always written at a slower, longer pace. so, given how fast this place moves, I would appreciate knowing if a thread has grown stale, or if something's off.

I'm flexible. I'd like to think that I'm pretty laid-back. I want you to have fun, and you need to drop or backburner our thread because life, interest, etc. that's okay. I promise. I also don't mind reminders about cold threads or overdue replies on my end. if that's the case, please let me know right away, and I'll pick it back up or let you know my thoughts. we can try new things, or not. just let me know what you'd like to do, and we can adjust from there. that being said, lack of time or muse =/= lack of interest. I get that. you never need to rush a reply with me, and I will always (for better or worse) assume interest is still there unless told otherwise by you. I'm no herlock sholmes. (I wish I was...)

so, as a courtesy, I'd ask to please talk to me if something's wrong. if you feel the need to drop our thread or aren't interested in an interaction and/or want to start fresh. I won't be upset (quote me on that.) I just want to make sure that the writing vibes are still good, and I want to spend my time here writing things that you (and others) are still into. and in the end, it's not really a big deal--this place is great and I adore my past/present/future thread partners--but it's something that I would appreciate!

(also since I haven't made it clear before: no AI with me, please. let's meet at the same level.)

MUSE PREFERENCES: strong women and brash, sunshiney dudes. (I'll really try anyone, but I certainly have types 😊)

PLOTS OR MEMES : whatever's easier for you to get in the door with--c'mon in!! I don't find myself with the time to reblog many memes lately, but my inbox/IMs are always open for spot interactions, and I'll do a lil' starter call here and there!!

LONG OR SHORT REPLIES : I don't mind receiving either, but I always tend to lose myself in the sauce and write a lot oops. you never have to match my length. as long as we're writing together, that's chill enough for me!

BEST TIME TO WRITE : my healthcare job is killing me. I'll try to sneak on for some stuff here and there, but I'm most active during evening/nighttime CST US. confirmed night time scrawler. 🦉

ARE YOU LIKE YOUR MUSE(S) : some common threads linking all of my muses to me is the fact that we always want to be active, we have (too) high expectations of ourselves, we grew up and are still growing up, and we spend too much time working (and loathe it LMAO)

[penncilkid]

Hi hey hello, it’s PK! Back with another non-canon ship paired with far too many words. Welcome to one of my fic-adjacent ramble sessions! I mentioned it the last time I did one of these, but today, we’re discussing Sam/David— Or Lunar Healing (Yes, I gave them a ship name. I like to have fun /lh). This post will be going over the main timeline I’ve envisioned for these two. However, I have dozens of general ship headcanons as well so if anyone would be interested in seeing those, let me know and I’ll make a sequel post. (Also special shoutout to @cashandprizes, they certainly had some sort of part to play in the creation of this post /lh /pos). Now then, let’s get into this!

Pairing: Sam/David*

Word Count: 3.8 K [Note: If you wanna skip the Inversion stuff near the end, then it’s only 2.5 K]

Content Tags/Warnings: Inversion will be brought up/discussed near the end of this (Specific heads up for mention of blood) // I’ll also be using my listeners’ names at points (Who’s who will be indicated for clarity purposes)

*Maia, my version of Darlin’, is mentioned in this. Additionally, in this version of events, she is dating Milo and Nirav, my version of Sweetheart. (They’re not the focus though)

/// 

Some quick stats for my version of David and Sam: David is 6’0” and Latino (specifically Colombian) // Sam is 6’3” and Black [Added in case you wanted to know a bit more about my vision]

///

My vision for this pair begins with Fred and Bright’s turning. As mentioned in the timeline, canonically speaking, David inquires about the two newest additions to the Solaire clan. I imagine this plays out in a vaguely similar way as Sam/Darlin’s first canonical meeting. Sam’s doing the whole “get off of our property / who the hell do you think you are?” routine, though he’s internally cursing himself when David introduces who he is. Upon realizing he’s speaking with the Shaw pack alpha, he becomes very formal with David: calling him Mr. Shaw and such, asking if he wants to speak with his clan leader, etc. David explains that he was coming to speak to William himself and that Sam doesn’t need to do anything. 

David asks for Sam’s name. Upon realizing who he is, David has to fight the urge to ask more about what happened on Halloween night directly. He’d heard some of the details and assumes William will disclose more, but there’s a part of him that wants to hear it firsthand. Instead, David tells Sam that if he ever needs any assistance given everything going on, he should reach out. David remembers how difficult it was after Gabe passed, and while this is a different situation, he knows how damaging isolation can be. Sam thanks him (out of politeness) before David heads off to meet with Will.  

Sam doesn’t take David up on the offer— At least for a while. The main reason why is because from his perspective, he doesn’t want to bother “Mr. Shaw” if he could handle it. He’s been a vampire for well-over a decade, he figures he’ll be fine once the dust settles. But after a particularly rough night looking after Fred and Bright, Sam bites the bullet and calls David. The two end up meeting somewhere with food because David figures food is the easiest way to get people to relax (and because he was hungry). Sam is still guarded when it comes to his venting, not wanting to share too much or put too much of a burden on David. But as the two talk and David offers what reassurance he can, Sam finds it a bit easier to spend time around the alpha.The two of them having one more of these meet ups before they go back to their respective lives, Sam viewing this as nothing more than a “one-off” thing.

Enter: Maia. Now, as mentioned, her timeline leads to a relationship with Milo and Nirav (Sweetheart) rather than with Sam. If she followed canon, she would have gone to Wonderworld in search of Quinn, met Sam, and then reached out to him for healing help after the vampire fight. The way canon diverges here is instead, she goes to Wonderworld looking for Quinn but doesn’t disclose her name or explain why she was searching for him after finding out he’s not there. When she gets into the fight with the vampires, she knows she’s in bad shape and needs help. She bites the bullet and instead shows up on Milo’s doorstep, asking if his partner can heal her while begging him not to tell David she’s back in Dahlia. Milo agrees to hide her return from David only if she explains everything to him and Nirav instead. 

Realizing it’s probably not the safest idea to stay at her own place, she begins crashing with Milo and Nirav while continuing her search for Quinn. As she tries to track him down, she ends up reaching back out to Sam, wanting to know what he knows while looking to work together to a certain degree. At this point, the two are acquaintances who have a mutual aversion to the same vamp.

David begins to suspect that Maia is back based on things he’s hearing around Dahlia— Though, he can’t simply confirm based on rumors alone. When he hears that a shifter’s been spotted around Wonderworld a handful of times, David decides to reach out and asks to meet with Sam. It’s been quite some time since the two saw each other one-on-one, but because of the base level of mutual respect (and trust, arguably), David invites Sam to his house for this meeting. Initially, Sam isn’t sure what David is looking to discuss but agrees nonetheless. Upon arriving, Sam finds himself getting distracted by David’s presence. Sure, they’ve seen each other before, talked for hours. But there’s something about being this close to the shifter after so long— David’s hair being a bit messier since he was relaxing at home. The way David’s biceps look on display thanks to the tank top he’s wearing. Or the way the scar on his lip— “Collins?” “Sorry, what were you saying, David?” 

David asks Sam if he’s been interacting with a shifter in the recent weeks. When Sam says yes, David begins listing a series of physical traits out— “Do those descriptors apply to the shifter in question?” Sam bites his tongue, cursing inside because he can tell that there’s no good way of answering this. But that hesitation tells David everything he needs to know. He asks Sam if Maia seems safe (relatively speaking as Maia’s definition of safe is far “looser” than David would like). Sam says that he doesn’t know much about what she’s got going on when she’s not around him, but that she seems like she’s doing alright when they speak. David takes this information in before explaining to Sam that he’s not going to interfere— Not yet at least. He wants to wait and see if Maia will disclose her return naturally. In the meantime, Sam should continue doing whatever he sees fit.  

After David finishes discussing Maia, Sam gets ready to leave as he figured that was all David wanted— But David stops him. “Sam, I wouldn’t invite you all the way out here for a ten minute conversation. At the very least, I should feed you or something.” Sam tells David that’s not necessary but it takes David insisting once for Sam to fold. As David cooks for Sam, the two strike up a conversation. They talk about various things— How Fred and Bright are doing, how the pack’s doing, personal life updates and such— and it feels reminiscent of those times they spoke with each other months prior. Sam ends up staying for at least another hour or two as they talk. When it’s time for him to go, David tells Sam that he wouldn’t mind making a habit of these talks if Sam is interested. Sam grins and tells David he likes the sound of that. 

Something I feel is important to Sam’s characterization is that he takes things slow when it comes to relationships. That’s not to say he doesn’t feel things sooner, but the way in which he acts on those feelings is paced. This in mind, I also 100% see David catching feelings first out of these two. As he and Sam begin regularly spending time with each other, David finds it easier to exist as someone other than the Shaw pack alpha. Meanwhile, Sam’s slowly realizing that David is “Mr. Shaw”— But he’s also “David”, who chastises him for not drinking enough blood or asks what he’s craving despite their shared awareness that Sam doesn’t have to eat. They start seeing new sides of each other as they grow closer, and it’s difficult for David to ignore his growing feelings. (Note: I imagine they spent the Sunbound Solstice together that year as an example. Mentioned because I intend to write a few headcanons about that day)

After this goes on for a while, Sam is eventually invited to a pack meeting. By this point, David has already confronted Maia about her being in Dahlia, what’s been going on with her and Quinn, etc. They’re holding a meeting discussing the situation, and David figures the Solaire Clan deserves to be kept in the loop. After all, Maia and Sam have some level of connection, and two of their own were turned by him. Sure, David could’ve set up another meeting with William to update the clan, but he thinks Sam is just as suitable an option. By this point, Sam and David have become a lot more relaxed with each other compared to the first time they met. But it’s not only in terms of formality (or rather, the lack thereof). There’s something in the way they interact with each other before and after the meeting. The way David watches how his pack interacts with Sam, taking in both the vamp and wolves’ body language. How his gaze softens ever so subtly when he’s speaking with Sam. The flickers of smiles or hushed laughs when they overhear something said by the other. It’s subtle yet impossible to miss. 

At the end of the meeting as people are clearing out, Asher stays behind because Beta duties and whatnot. As he walks Sam out with David, he’s taking in their interactions up close. As soon as Sam’s gone, Ash turns to David with a knowing smile. “So. You and Collins, huh~?” David rolls his eyes, “It’s not a big deal.” “So you admit there’s something going on?” “Will you come on so we can get out of here already?” David walks off but Asher’s busy grinning at his best friend regardless.

As Sam continues to become more and more present in David’s life, he begins to internally confront his own feelings. He’s well aware the way he feels about David is far from casual, but he isn’t sure how to go about dealing with those. He feels like him and David have a good thing going, and he doesn’t want to mess that up somehow. For the time being, they continue doing what they’re doing, just without the official label of dating per say. That’s not to say their dynamic doesn’t evolve, though. In public, David still plays it a bit professional/formal with Sam, primarily because of Shaw Security and because he’s still considering how their relationship may be perceived at times. But at a pack meeting? Their attraction is palpable. As soon as he sees Sam arrive at the den and walks over, Sam’s pulling him into a hug tight enough to lift him off the ground a bit. And despite David saying “Alright, alright. That’s enough, Cowboy”, he always pulls Sam into a kiss with a smile that tells you they might as well be the only people in the room. There’s a sense of intimate comfort they share with each other, and it’s something that continues to surprise them both. 

Around early December (aka right before Hot Boi Winter begins), David decides he wants to invite Sam to the cabins with the pack. The pack already expects Sam to be there— They’re all more than aware of how close the two are— but David doesn’t want this to just be about the cabins. Sam’s over at David’s place (a frequent occurrence by then) and as they’re laying together, David tells Sam he wants to ask him something. “If this is about the cabins, Asher’s already brought it up—” “Do you want to be my mate, Sam?” They both watch each other for a moment, and inside, David panics a bit. “Nevermind, forget I asked—” “Hey now, hold on a sec, David.” Sam stops David from leaving, holding the shifter’s hand. He apologizes for looking so shell shocked but assures David that it’s only because that wasn’t what he expected him to say. David starts to explain himself more, wanting to make it clear that he understands the question he’s asking. He talks about how much he enjoys any time spent with Sam. How it’s easy to get out of his head when Sam’s around. The way his mind seems to shut off when he feels Sam’s hands on him. All the nights they’ve spent together— Talking about their lives, sharing pieces of their past, comforting each other after difficult days, kissing and holding and loving on each other. “I’ve never had a mate before. I didn’t think that would be a possibility for me when I was appointed alpha. But I do know that being with you feels right. So I wanted to know if you wanted to be that to me too.” 

The entire time while David is talking, Sam’s gaze is fixed on the shifter before him. At no point did he ever doubt his feelings for David and vice versa. But to hear David speak so candidly about the way he feels and what he wants is something he didn’t realize he needed. “Ask me again.” “...What?” “Just do it, David.” He can’t help but roll his eyes with a bit of a grin before looking at Sam. “Do you want to be my mate?” Sam kisses David before smiling at him, “It’d be my honor, Mr. Shaw.” David groans at the last part, which makes Sam laugh before they kiss again. When they’re up at the cabins, prior to Sam’s arrival, David mentions that him and Sam are officially mates. Asher swears before handing a very smug looking Milo twenty dollars.

///

To make up for the next section of the timeline, I’m gonna talk pet names real quick: Typically whenever I see speaker/speaker ships, I see people assign what would be the listener's nickname to the other speaker.  Now I’ve got no issue with that whatsoever (/gen), it tends to hit. But when I was thinking about Lunar Healing, I was like “Hmm I’m not so sure that would be giving the vibes I need it to give.” As I was discussing this with Lexi, the lovely visionary they are, I was like “I like the idea of David using a Spanish term of endearment for Sam. I’m gonna go with ‘Querido’, but I still need something for Sam to call David.” It was at that moment that Lexi breathed into existence one of the best sentences I’ve ever heard: “Hear me out. I actually like Sam calling David Angel more”

When I picture the first time Sam uses it, David makes a face, brows furrowed. “What? You don't like it?” “It doesn't fit me.” “Now what makes you say that?” “Angels are too good for me to be one. They're sacred beings—” Sam pulls David close so their faces are an inch apart. In a low voice, “You're heaven on earth, David Shaw. You're sacred to me, and I want everyone to know that. That’s why I’m calling you ‘Angel’. Got it?” David has to take a moment to mentally recover and actually come up with a proper response (/pos)

I also like to imagine what outside reactions to the pet name would be like. Like David, Milo, Asher, and Maia are all hanging out to do something, Sam arriving late. When he gets there, he kisses David before saying “I'm sorry I'm late, Angel. Do you mind if I run to the bathroom real quick?” “Yeah, we'll wait for you to start.” And as soon as Sam is out of the room and David turns around, they're all like “So. That’s new~”

///

Alright. So. One thing you will quickly learn about me is that when I explore a Redacted rarepair, I almost always explore Inversion in tandem. This next section will be covering how I think things would play out for Sam/David, but if that’s not your thing (or you’re tired of reading), feel free to leave on a high note. Now then:

[Let’s talk Inversion]

As mentioned in the main timeline, David and Sam are officially together when the E&E games roll around. Sam’s been hearing all about the behind the scenes from David, and when Vincent mentions wanting to go for Ayl (Lovely), it’s a given that he’ll be going as well. Vincent enjoys teasing him despite inviting Sam because “Your boy toy’s working security~” “Keep it up and I’ll tell him you called him my ‘boy toy’ (/lh)”. Sam wanted to get DAMN earlier so he could see David beforehand, but the sun obviously had other plans. I’d like to think that because of this, Sam scans the game/ceremony feed so he can spot the moments where David’s shown on screen. 

On David’s end, he’s admittedly excited knowing Sam will be there for the ceremony. With all the preparations and work, they hadn’t had much time to just soak up each other’s company. At least now, he’d be able to see his mate once this is over and appreciate him properly. At this point, we’re following how the ceremony canonically progresses up to when the rift opens and shades start spilling in. The same core moments play out: David making the call to bring the ward back down. Sam and Vincent trying to get to Lovely, ending up inside the ward before realizing it’s back up. They were both trapped inside the ward in canon, but now it means something entirely different. 

When the shades start spilling in, Sam is freaking out. He wants to go find David but he also doesn’t want to leave Vincent alone. Ayl is still relatively new to the magical world, he’s not a shifter, he’s got more disadvantages in a situation like this. Vincent will go looking for his partner regardless, and Sam decides to go with him. Later on when he realizes the ward is back up, he’s torn between wanting David in there with him and wanting him outside, safe and away from all this mess. He sees shifters running around, but he’s never seen David shifted at this point. It’s near impossible for him to focus long enough to try and find his mate, and he knows that if he’s not careful, that could get someone hurt.

Initially, David is focused on the job at hand. He’s the one that made the call to trap all these people, he’ll be damned if he doesn’t try to help as much as possible. Realizing Asher was inside the ward stung in its own way because he wanted his best friend out of harm’s way, but he pushes that down for the time being because he trusts Asher to handle the crisis before them. However— The moment he realizes Sam is inside the ward as well? His stomach is in knots. Like with Asher, he has to push down those anxieties, silently hoping things will work out in the end. If Ash tries to ask David about it, David shuts the conversation down. He doesn’t have time to think about this when people’s lives are at stake. 

As Inversion continues to play out, Sam is trying his best to focus on Vincent And Ayl as well as helping the people he can. There are moments where he swears he can feel David closeby, his head turning as he tries to spot him before telling himself to stay focused. Likewise, David is focusing his energy and attention on crisis response, ignoring his own exhaustion as he continues pushing forward. He keeps reminding himself that they’ll get out of this— That if he keeps going, eventually this nightmare will end and things will be alright.

What he doesn’t account for is Asher getting attacked by a shade. It’s an emotional breaking point for David—It was bad enough that his mate’s trapped in here with him, but now he was going to lose his best friend too. The way in which Sam’s name tears from David’s throat stops the vampire in his tracks. David’s been trying his best to stay calm and think rationally since the rift opened. But in that moment, all he can focus on is Asher in front of him, his hands slick with his best friend’s blood, Asher’s breath coming too fast and too shallow, his eyes closing, he’s not moving enough— “Angel— Angel, look at me.” There are tears streaming down David’s face as he looks at Sam. “Can you help him?” “I can try.” Sam is able to focus on healing Asher with David’s help, but it cuts deep seeing his mate in so much pain, even if emotional. 

The rest of Inversion plays out as it did in canon up to the point where Milo brings the ward down. As soon as he sees that the shades are gone, David goes to find Asher again, part of him still terrified that he’s gonna wake up and Ash will be gone. As the two of them make their way back out, Malakhi (Babe) nearly crashes into the both of them, trying to check on them both because they’ve certainly seen better days. David lets go of Asher so him and Mal can have their moment together, not wanting to interrupt. David would do his best to mask it externally, but inside he’s panicking because he hasn’t seen Milo, he doesn’t know how much of his pack made it out alive, and Sam’s nowhere to be seen. He gets confirmation that Milo’s alright while he’s still near Asher, and it’s enough to make him cry again. While waiting for Milo to come find them, he sees Sam again. The vamp is much more relieved to see David alive and in one piece, kissing him and pulling him into a tight hug before quickly apologizing as David winces. 

They don’t get much time to talk before David has to go address DUMP and such for his decisions. Sam recognizes the subtle shift when David takes on the role of alpha again, ignoring whatever’s going on in his own mind for the sake of responsibility. Sam asks David if he should stay, but David tells Sam that he’ll be fine and that he should go with Vincent/be with his clan for now. Sam is reluctant but agrees after promising to come back for David when DUMP’s done talking with him. It’s hours before Sam hears from David again, but as promised, he comes and picks him up once he’s been released. The drive home is silent, neither of them saying anything. It’s only when they make it inside and David sees his own reflection that he finally breaks, clinging to Sam as the weight of everything that happened hits him. 

/// So yeah, this concludes another fic adjacent ramble (/lh)! As mentioned at the start, I have many headcanons for these two, so let me know if that would be of interest to anyone. This was a labor of love, and I really hope that it was enjoyable to read through. (And, once more, if you actually read through all of this, hi, thank you, you’re wild /lh /pos)

[kayla-marie-writes]

I have too many fic ideas. I put them in my drafts and work on them, publishing and/or updating as I please. I have one with Zain going to university, but it's sort of like Nevermore... with humans in the mix. He has two monster-hunting dads and a badass uncle. As in Nick. But I've got to do more world-building with it. And yes, I'm showing my age with the play on "Werewolves in London." I regret nothing. Here's the cover.

The Prologue:

-ZAIN-

A lot has changed in the last two years. Almost losing your father to parasitic vampires can put things in perspective for you. I'd always thought that I'd lose him to the war. I thought I had when he left some time ago on my eighteenth birthday, and he hadn't come back. When I saw my gift on the table and heard the whispers of one last stand against the Americans, I put two and two together.

Imagine my surprise to hear from him about a day or two later, telling me that not only was he alive, but he had been quarantined and that there was someone he wanted me to meet. Someone who has saved his life over and over again.

An American named Jason Kolchek. I didn't trust him at first, but once my father came home, they told me the truth about the temple of Naram-Sin. He told me the government had granted him asylum for defecting against Dar, who I had never cared for.

When I went to University, he split time between the United States with Jason and London with me. They also paid my father and the other survivors off. I met another American, Nick Kay, who my father told me had met him with kindness in the temple. Jason admitted that it had taken him time. I appreciated being told the truth. From then on, I vowed to do better. I stopped stealing. I focused on my studies and the admission process.

Once I started classes, I buckled down. I got a job at the University Library, and I stayed out of trouble. I made a few friends here, and Tariq visited occasionally, but I kept a low profile...even as I saw signs of the supernatural all around me. For my father's sake, I made the choice not to get involved, even though he hunts with Jason and Nick. He wanted me to focus on my studies before I made any decisions. I understand and respect that.

I've noticed that the second-year students went off campus at all hours of the night to face these threats. There are all kinds of people here: werewolves, witches, vampires...all sorts of beings, and the humans who haven't been turned (as some can be born) or choose not to wield magic trains to be hunters.

I tried to ignore it, for my sake and my father's. I knew that after what he had gone through, it would be selfish and foolish of me to put myself in a similar situation. He hadn't been given a choice. I have one...but now, bodies were starting to pile up. Their hearts or throats had been torn out. People disappeared without a trace, as well. I followed every article I could because I felt drawn to the case. I'm not sure why.

My friends and I had gone out to the pub after classes let out to celebrate going to second year. This is when you decide what you wanted to major in, so to speak. I had no idea about this when I applied to study Mythology, but thanks to my family, I know what I want. I'm going to be a hunter. I want to protect people from the things they went through.

"Zain," Tariq hails me, pulling me out of my thoughts. "Do you know what you want to major in, yet?"

"I'm going to be a hunter," I tell him.

"Well, you've already got a head start!" Aiden shrugs. "I mean, your family survived the House of Ashes two years ago. That's impressive."

Aiden is a vampire and my roommate. Thanks to enchanted objects provided by the witches, vampires can walk in the daylight and enjoy human food. They still need blood sometimes, that's provided by willing donors. Vampires who refuse to live this way, and kill innocent people are considered rogues. They are hunted down. They have to be.

When we met, we talked about everything, and he assumes that the parasites in the temple are ancients, and they may have been dormant for centuries until the aliens landed. Under close supervision, CENTCOM was studying them, as the parasites are key to vampiric origins.

"Heh," I chuckled. "Before that, they were Marines, and my father was..."

"We get it," Kyle gently cuts it. "He didn't have a choice."

Kyle doesn't like her first name, and to this day, I don't know what it is. She's been able to wield magic at an early age, so unless she takes us by surprise, that will be her major. Granted, each class is still able to hunt down rogues, but choosing a major for it gives you specialized training and your position if you join an organization or hunt on your own.

Kyle risked expulsion when we first met two years ago. When I first arrived, and I was looking for directions, I ran into some xenophobic students. Considering my training with Jason and Nick, I knew I could handle them...if I'd gotten the chance. Kyle overheard them and she was pissed. I witnessed magic firsthand that day. We've been close ever since. Since Ravensbourne has a zero-tolerance policy for prejudice, she was put on probation...I think the dean was impressed that she knew how to hex people before her second year.

"Thanks, Kyle," I tell her with a smile.

"No problem," she replies, giving me one in return.

"So how much longer are the two of you going to play this little game?" Luke asks.

"What game?" Kyle and I ask in unison.

"Really?" Aiden smirks. "The late-night study sessions without us, going into the city together, that one time Zain met your family-"

"-That was coincidental," I broke in.

"We share a lot of the same classes," Kyle says next.

"Oh, come on," Tariq laughs. "It's too obvious!"

Luke is an interesting one...he's a werewolf from one of the oldest pure bloodlines of wolves, a select few Native American tribes. Unfortunately, they had to protect what was left of their bloodline, and the existence of werewolves wasn't tolerated back then, so they couldn't help their people as much as they wanted to. I've been fascinated by his ancestry. Contrary to the Hollywood myths about vampires and werewolves, he's also dating Aiden.

I've learned a lot about people, love, and sexuality in the past few years. I'm tolerant, and I embrace, support, and am close to many members of the LGBTQ+ community, but I never understood the struggles until my father had come out to me, and I paid closer attention to what he and Jason were going through. They both came from a world where they were made to feel wrong for loving each other...

"There's no game," I assure the group. "We're just..."

"...Seeing where things go," Kyle finished with a shy shrug.

"Well, good!" Aiden chuckles. "I mean, I just. You two are adorable!"

Kyle hides her face in her hands while Luke, Tariq, and Aiden tease her. She's right, we've gotten closer, especially in the past year. Her mother works for CENTCOM, as it turns out and she's worked with my father and uncles.

That's not why things have changed between us. That happened naturally. I'm drawn to her gentle nature. Unless her friends are being harassed or you provoke her, she typically stayed to herself. She's soft-spoken and intelligent...beautiful.

"Hey, Tariq," I begin, to give Kyle some relief, even as she scoots closer and I wrap an arm around her. "Have you heard back from Admissions yet?"

Tariq decided to apply after I told him the truth about what happened to my father. He stayed over for a few days, and it had been maybe a week since my father had been released from quarantine but Jason had to tie up some loose ends in America...so he wasn't home when my father had a nightmare.

Tariq and his mother helped us through it, and I couldn't lie to him after that. I know I can trust him. Once he found out, and I told him what Ravensbourne does, he wanted to join and fight. You can do that, and get an education at the same time.

"I have the envelope here," Tariq admits, pulling out the familiar cream-colored paper.

"Open it!" Luke insists enthusiastically. "Let's see what it says!"

Aiden, Kyle, and I lean in, too. I hope he got in. Tariq and I worked hard on my breaks. His grades are already great, but I wanted to give him the same advantage I had with having Marines for my uncles. We trained for hours until he was where I am now. He took his entrance exam and a physical test a week before he flew to visit me.

Tariq took a deep breath before he opens the envelope. He scans the words without giving anything away until he lets out a sigh.

"What is it?" I ask urgently.

"Did you get in?" Luke wonders.

"Do I need to visit the dean?" Kyle jokes.

"NO!" Aiden and I protest at the same time. She'll set his desk on fire or something.

"I got in," Tariq grins, flipping the letter around to show us.

"Hell yeah!" Luke crows. "Who did you get as your roommate?"

"....I haven't gotten there yet," Tariq mutters, reading on.

"Who did you get-"

Aiden was cut off by a familiar, grating voice.

"Oh, great, another charity case," Chase Frost announced his presence in a bored voice. "They're letting anyone in now..."

"That explains how you got here, aside from Daddy's pockets," Tariq shot back.

Son of a bitch. Chase is an asshole. He's not xenophobic, but he's a narcissistic jackass who thinks he's better than everyone else. I wasted no time kicking his ass in training. Ever since then, there's been this hostile, competitive energy between his friends and mine. I assumed that people outgrew this in grade school...Tariq clenched his jaw, and he got up to meet Chase.

"Cute," Chase snorts.

"Yeah, I thought so," Tariq shrugs earning a few giggles from the girls at a nearby table.

We didn't intervene. Tariq doesn't need us to, he's always been quick on the draw. Unless his friends showed up, we let Tariq handle this guy.

"Let me guess," Chase mused. "You're going to be a hunter? All brawn, no brain..."

"Come on now, Frost," Tariq quips. "You shouldn't be bitter because you don't have either one! You should be honored...you make snowflakes!"

Those same girls laughed openly now, and Chase flushed with embarrassment. Back home in Iraq, girls would flock to Tariq. He never showed any interest, but he never intentionally hurt anyone, either. I wondered if he would be interested in anyone here. Not that relationships define who you are as a person...I guess I'm just curious...

Chase specialized in water magic, which also translates to ice magic. Not all witches can hack it as a hunter, but I'm sure there are things that I'm not good at. When we had our attribute exams, something happened, and Chase's hailstorm turned into snowflakes.

It was all over campus, and we all heard how his father laid into him over the phone for failing to meet his standards. So what Tariq said was a low blow, but I had no sympathy for him. Being unhappy with your life doesn't give you the right to mistreat others.

"Do you know who the hell you're talking to?" Chase snarled.

"Elsa?" Tariq frowns. "I mean, I know you're a Disney character, but I figured you'd grow out of childish behavior!"

Our table erupts in quiet laughter. Chase sneers before stalking off. Tariq waits until Chase is gone before he joins us.

"He watches too many of those American shows," Tariq comments.

"He's a walking cliche," I agreed.

"Enough about him," Kyle shrugs. "Who do you have as your roommate, Tariq?"

"Luke," Tariq grins.

"Yes!" Luke crows. "We're all in the same building!"

"I think we should put in a request to switch," I announced. "That way, Luke and Aiden can share, and I won't risk walking in on you two again."

"I...am still...so sorry about that," Aiden winced.

"It's no big deal," I assure him. "It just makes sense at this point."

"Mr.Gordon is pretty cool, it shouldn't be an issue," Luke nods.

"That's something we can request tomorrow," Aiden decides. "You probably need to send for your things from Iraq, right?"

Tariq responds, but the alarm went off on my phone. My father and Jason were going to call soon.

"I'm gonna head back," I tell the group.

"Now?" Kyle frowns, checking her watch.

"I'm getting a call, and Jason and Baba are in the States," I explain.

"That's cool, tell them we said hey," Aiden smiles.

"Be careful," Luke warns me. "Whoever the killer is, it's a wolf, but no one has caught the scent."

"Yeah, I will," I assure everyone before leaving.

**************************************

Looking back now, I don't remember much about that night except that it was a full moon, and I had been halfway to my dorm when I had been attacked. Nick had been training me to fight, but I was no match for whatever this was. It was stronger than anyone I've sparred with.

I remember feeling like someone or something had been watching me all night, so I didn't drink much. Maybe it had been Chase? For someone who shows us disdain at every turn, I can't figure him out. I felt like I needed to stay sharp.

I couldn't shake the feeling...I remember the burning pain of sharp teeth gouging into my shoulder when I'd taken the shortcut into the alley-the guttural growls. Muscle and coarse fur...glowing eyes.

Luke had been right...holy shit. Werewolves. In London. The irony...Jason and I watched that movie once. I remember having that fleeting thought as I felt blood pour out of the bite. Then I thought about my family and Kyle. What would Nick or Jason have done-the wolf threw me down and I remember feeling its teeth tear my flesh as it did so. How the hell I hung on, I'm not sure...

Someone had leaped in front of me as I lay out in the alley. A woman...I saw her fight the wolf that bit me, and I passed out. When I'd come to, I must have been brought to her apartment. I didn't feel pain anymore...and my bite had disappeared. She must have found a clean shirt for me. Her scent-whoa that was weird-was all over it, and the apartment.

"You're awake," she sighs in relief. "Sometimes, people don't survive the bite...how are you feeling?"

"Uh..." I'm not sure how to respond. My senses were on high alert and it was a bit overwhelming.

"I didn't make it in time," she sighed as soon as I sat up. "I'm sorry. But now you've become a part of this."

"A part of what?" I asked.

"There's been a war between the wolves for the past few months," she explains. "We used to be at peace."

"What happened?" I asked her.

"There was to be a marriage to unite the packs," she explains. "They were mates...so things would have been resolved. No matter what happens, mates are meant to be honored. But someone killed them before the union could happen. Whoever it was...they covered their tracks. They used human methods to do it. No scent. So the two sides have been fighting ever since."

"...Where do you fit into all of this?" I ask her.

She considers me for a moment. I remember that her wolf is the color of caramel. I see it in her skin. The chocolate edges of her fur reflected in the shade of her hair that flowed down to her waist in thick waves. Her eyes are a piercing amber with flecks of yellow. I caught myself staring, and I looked away.

"You can trust me," I assure her. "I'm, uh, well I'm not an expert, but I know enough about wolves."

"Amara was my sister," she reveals, pain darkening her voice. "They were in love. I refuse to believe that his pack did this. Killing each other's mates...not only is it forbidden, but it takes a toll on you to break a bond like that. Whoever did this isn't in their right mind...but no one wants to hear me out. So I've been trying to solve this on my own."

"Maybe I can help," I find myself saying. "You've already said I've been brought into this, right?"

"Yes," she sighed. "Both sides have been trying to add to their numbers...I appreciate the offer, umm.."

"Zain," I introduced myself. "Zain Othman."

"Amaya Graves," she nods. "You're taking this well, by the way. It's odd. Refreshing...but odd."

"I study mythology at the university," I reveal. "I've noticed patterns of werewolf activities, but..."

"Which university?" she asked, her eyes flashing.

"Um, Ravensbourne University London," I tell her. "Why?"

"Be careful," Amaya warns me. "You can't trust everyone there."

I checked my watch. Shockingly, I haven't missed my call with my father.

"I understand," I tell her. "I need to go...and I'm going to speak to my father about this."

"I-wait, I'm sorry, what?" she stutters. "Why? That's dangerous. It's one thing to tell him that you've become one of us, but-"

"-He's stronger than you think," I gently cut in. "He survived the House of Ashes."

"...Really?" she gasped, her eyebrows rising. "No human ever has, and the rest of us stay clear of it. The Ancient One is the oldest of vampires."

"My father killed him," I reveal. "Along with other survivors."

"...Wow..." she murmured. "That's impressive...Are you sure you want to get him involved in this?"

"He's going to want to hunt down whoever bit me, regardless of what I say," I tell her. "If not him, then his boyfriend will...or my uncle."

I could almost hear him now...bold, angry, impulsive but protective. I remember the way my father had spoken of him before we met. Once Jason made up his mind, there was no turning back.

He also has an uncanny knack for knowing what you're thinking, even over the phone. I couldn't keep this from him, even if I wanted to. Nick's approach is more...ruthless. Unforgiving. I'd have to make sure he has all the facts first. But I know he'd be willing to help.

"Fair enough," Amaya nods. "I'm going to escort you back. You're a new wolf, and it will take time for you to adjust."

************************

I can hear, smell, and damn near taste everything. Amaya was right. It felt like sensory overload, but she taught me to breathe and remain calm. Colors are sharper. Richer. I'll focus on that later. Right on time, my laptop chimed, and I pulled up the video call with my father and Jason.

"Somethin' is different," Jason observes as soon as I log on.

How the hell does he do that? I hadn't even spoken yet.

"What's goin' on?" Jason asks.

"I-how do you do that?" I demand, momentarily thrown off. "And I thought baba was hard to fool..."

"I have to get very creative," my father admits. "But he's right...what's going on with you?"

"Uhh, so don't freak out..." I began.