#This is me just happening to have a breakdown half way through the piece but does it even matter it's me drawing them?

[steddiehyperfixation]

don't you forget about me (part six)

(part one)(part two)(part three)(part four)(part five)

Steve allows himself a brief mental breakdown in the shower when he gets home. He lets the water mix with his tears as he curls his arms around himself and wishes with everything he is that they were Eddie’s. There’s nothing he wouldn’t give right now just to be held by him again, just to feel Eddie’s arms around him one more time. All it took was a tiny kiss on the back of his hand for Steve’s skin to remember just how much it missed that feeling. Now Steve’s entire body craves Eddie’s touch, and he shakes in its absence like an addict in withdrawal. 

Then he puts himself back together, gets dressed and styles his hair and heads off to work. 

They’d defeated Vecna before he could split the world into pieces or whatever his diabolical plan had been. So while Steve’s whole world may have been torn apart, while Steve’s whole world lays bruised and bandaged and amnesic in a hospital bed, the rest of the world carries on none the wiser. The rest of the world still rents VHS tapes and has movie nights and date nights and no fucking clue that they were seconds away from being dragged down into a hell dimension a couple weeks ago, so Family Video is still open for them. Fuck that. 

“You’ve gotta handle the customers today because if someone starts asking me stupid questions I can’t promise I won’t snap at them,” Steve tells Robin as he drives them to their shift. 

“Aw, but it’s so funny when you snap at them,” Robin quips. 

“Robin.” He gives her his best I’m so fucking serious look. 

Her humor dries up immediately and she nods solemnly. “Alright, yeah. I got it.” 

Steve sighs, pulling into the parking lot. “Thank you.” 

He busies himself with cataloging and reshelving and rewinding returns while Robin takes over the customer service part of the job. It’s mindless - mind-numbing - the monotony of the tasks exactly what Steve needs to dull out the thoughts in his brain and distract himself from the way the back of his hand still tingles from Eddie’s kiss. 

When the afternoon rush dies down after a few hours and the store is all but empty, Robin sidles up next to him where he’s putting away a stack of fantasy films. “Hey.” 

Her voice cuts through his focus and nearly startles Steve out of his skin. “Jesus! Don’t sneak up on me like that.” 

“Sorry.” She grabs half the stack of tapes and starts helping him shelve. “Just wanted to check in with you, we haven’t gotten much of a chance to talk today. How are things going with Eddie?” 

“It’s fine. He’s fine,” Steve grumbles, glaring down at the tape in his hands. It’s got a dragon on the cover. He thinks Eddie would probably like it. “He still doesn’t remember me, but he’s starting to see me as a friend now at least, so.” Steve shoves the movie into its spot on the shelf. “That’s something, right?” 

Robin raises her eyebrows at the sharp bitterness in his tone and how forcefully he put the tape away. “Okay. Yeah. So I see we’re in the anger stage of grief now,” she comments. 

Steve scoffs. If this is a stage of grief, he thinks he’s been going through them in the wrong order, or maybe all at once - a neverending ebb and flow of denial and anger and depression all swirled together into one fucked up cocktail of grief. “I’m not angry,” he says, rubbing his hands over his face. “I’m just tired- emotionally burnt out, I don’t know. I just miss him and it’s not fair and I’m so fucking sick of feeling like this.” 

“Yeah, that’s anger, Steve,” Robin says, infuriatingly blunt. She slides the last tape in her stack into its place and then leans against the shelf. “Did something else happen to set this off, or are you just generally overwhelmed?” 

Steve sags against the shelf beside her. “Both. I don’t know. It’s stupid, it’s so fucking stupid. He just- he kissed my hand this morning, that’s it, and it wrecked me.” 

“He what?” Robin questions, curiosity widening her eyes. 

“He kissed my hand,” Steve repeats. He sighs and adds context, gives her a full recount of the events of that morning.

“Oh my god?!” Robin practically squawks as she backhands Steve’s arm, which is definitely not the comforting words or touch he needs from her right now. 

“Ow!” he yelps, rubbing his arm. “What the hell was that for?” 

“Dude. He was flirting with you,” she tells him, eyes even wider now like she’s trying to explain to him something obvious. 

“What? No.” Steve shakes his head, looking at her like she’s crazy. “He definitely wasn’t.” 

“Ughhh,” Robin lets out a long, dramatic groan, dragging her hands down her cheeks and pulling down her eyes. “I cannot do this with you two again. He totally was.” She drops her hands from her face so she can use them to illustrate her point as she starts to lists off, “First of all, he literally called you daddy-” 

“As a joke,” Steve interrupts to protest. 

“Yeah, a flirtatious one,” Robin retorts. She continues, “Then he said you have a magic touch, and then his heart literally started racing for no reason-”

“Because I was stressing him out!” 

“Only after his heart rate went up in the first place, which, as I was saying, was for no reason other than the fact that you were smiling at him and holding his hand-” 

“That literally doesn’t-” 

“And then, he kissed your hand - pressed his lips to your skin - and told you that you were his good luck charm,” Robin finishes, looking smug like she’s said something novel and not just completely reiterated exactly what Steve had just told her only with more emphasis. 

He sighs wearily. “Your point?” 

“He likes you, dingus,” she says, whacking his arm again. “Don’t you get it? His mind may not remember still, but his heart is starting to.”

Steve doesn’t know what to do with that. A lump rises in his throat, a rush of jumbled emotions chafing against his already frayed edges. “Don’t say that. You don’t know that.”

“I think you should tell him what you were to each other,” Robin suggests. 

“Right, yeah, okay, sure,” Steve scoffs, somewhere between sarcastic and hysterical. “And while we’re at it, I think you should tell Vickie that you like her. Because telling people things like that is so easy, isn’t it?” 

Robin gives him a withering stare. “That is not the same thing at all, and you know it.”

“No, yeah, you’re right,” he agrees. “Because I know Eddie, and he would not take that news well. He already gets a little weird whenever I seem to know too much about him - if I tell him I know him biblically too-” 

“Ew, don’t tell him like that!” 

“Doesn’t matter if I tell him like that; I say we’ve been together for 9 months, he’s going to assume we’ve-” 

“God, okay, I get it!”

“See? It would freak him out,” Steve concludes, crossing his arms. “Even if he does…like me again or whatever, he definitely wouldn’t anymore and it would just generally make him uncomfortable. So I can’t tell him. I just have to keep waiting for him to remember on his own, even though it’s fucking killing me,” he says, his voice harsh as he tries to keep it from breaking. “It’s what’s best for Eddie.” 

“Steve-” Robin starts, frowning like she’s only just beginning to realize she may have pushed him too far, but whatever it is she was going to say is cut off by the ringing of the bell that announces the front door being open. 

“Customers.” Steve points his chin towards the couple who just walked in, a bitter jealousy boiling in his stomach as he watches them walk hand in hand towards the romance aisle. It’s not fucking fair. He shoves himself away from the shelves and mutters, “I’m taking my break.”

He stalks to the breakroom, closes the door, and sinks to the floor with his back against it. The tears in his eyes feel like they’re made of acid, like they would carve tracks into his skin if they were to spill down his cheeks. He wraps his arms around himself again. The thoughts in his head are made of acid too, bitter and burning and cursing everyone who gets to enjoy their lover's touch while he suffers without his. 

Steve’s brain feels corroded, corrupted. “He likes you,” Robin’s words echo there too, “his mind may not remember still, but his heart is starting to.” Would Eddie touch him now if he asked? Would he trace his fingers across Steve’s skin, kiss more than just the back of his hand? Steve digs his own fingers into his sides. He feels gross, he feels rotten. It wouldn’t be right to ask that of Eddie without him knowing the truth, to take advantage of him like that. It wouldn’t be the same, anyways. The superficial touch of a boy with the beginnings of a crush is not the tender lover’s caress that Steve craves. 

That is if Robin is even right about Eddie redeveloping feelings. Which she probably isn’t.

Steve’s just being stupid and selfish again. He wants to remove his brain from his skull so he can stop thinking, tear his heart from his chest so he can stop feeling; both so burned and decayed he thinks if he held them in his hands they would dissolve and crumble to dust and ash and sludge between his fingers. 

Fifteen minutes pass, and Steve forces himself to be fine. He peels himself off the breakroom floor and returns to work, continues the tedious tasks that he hopes will numb him out again. 

Robin catches his eye from across the room where she’s sorting a customer’s cash at the register. I’m sorry, her expression says, I didn’t mean to make you upset. 

Steve gives a tiny shake of his head and a small smile. It’s okay. It wasn’t your fault, his own expression reassures her. You meant well. I’m not mad at you. 

They don’t talk about Eddie again that day. The next time there’s a lull in customers and they’re able to chat again, Steve tells Robin he honestly just needs a distraction right now, and he lets her ramble on about Vickie and band and school and her impending graduation and the movie she watched last night and whatever other random thoughts are bouncing around that hyperactive head of hers. Her voice fills in the cracks in Steve’s brain, keeps it from falling apart completely. She’s always been good at that, and he’s grateful for it. 

Then he drops Robin off after work and he drives away alone in silence because all the songs on the radio are love songs, and he drives back to the hospital - back to the source of his grief again and again like some sort of fucking masochist - because Eddie needs him. Because Steve loves him.

~

Eddie cannot help the way his face all but beams the second Steve walks back into his room that evening. “There you are, Stevie! How was work?”

Steve returns the smile, genuine, but there’s a tiredness to it. “It was alright. Bit boring, really, uneventful. How are you doing?” 

“I’m good,” Eddie says, adding with a jaunty grin, “All the better now that you’re back.” 

It comes out a bit more flirtatious than he intended, but thankfully Steve just laughs it off. “Alright, smoothtalker,” he scoffs through a chuckle as he takes his usual seat by the bed. “It’s nice to see you again too.”

“Oh, the actual doctor came in to talk to me today. Good news, don’t worry,” Eddie tells him, the last bit tacked on quickly before that concerned crease can appear between Steve’s brows. “She says I’m healing up nicely, and I might be able to be discharged soon. A few more days’ observation and then they're gonna see how well I can actually move since, you know, the bats chewed through half the muscles in one of my legs. But, yeah, I could be out of here by the end of next week.” 

“That’s great, Eddie!” Steve brightens. 

“Yeah.” Eddie smiles. “I can’t wait to be somewhere familiar, feel normal again. Or, well,” he amends, smile falling a little as he realizes, “as normal as I can feel given that I’ll probably be walking with a limp for the rest of my life and be covered in nasty scars all over.” 

A strange expression crosses Steve’s face then, something happy and sad and sympathetic all at once, and his voice is soft as he says, “We’ll match.” 

Eddie blinks at him. “What?”

“The scars,” Steve clarifies. “The bats got me too, you know. I was lucky, it wasn’t as bad for me as it was for you, but, uh- yeah, we’ll match. See?” He stands and pulls his shirt up a bit. 

Eddie’s heart rate immediately kicks up again, blood growing warm, as his eyes snap to Steve’s stomach, to skin and muscle and body hair and- oh. Two giant, jagged red scabs cover Steve’s sides, the edges fading into skin bumpy and pink and white with the beginnings of scarring. The bite on Eddie’s own side twinges in sympathy. “That’s-” He swallows back the word hot, and breathes out instead, “Holy shit.” Without really thinking, he finds himself reaching out to skim his fingers over the ridges of Steve’s scars. 

Steve gasps - full body shudders - at the touch, and Eddie instantly pulls his hand back, afraid he’s hurt him. “Sorry,” he mutters.

“No, it’s fine,” Steve manages, though it sounds a bit shaky. “You didn’t hurt me, I just- I wasn’t expecting it.” 

Eddie tentatively starts to reach back out; Steve nods. He slowly traces the outline of the wound again, every uneven edge, feeling the evidence of hurt and the evidence of healing and the ripple of each breath Steve takes - breaths that echo in the quiet that falls between them. Eddie doesn’t realize just how intimate this silence has become as he runs his hands across Steve’s skin, until he glances up to find Steve just…watching him. It’s impossible to tell exactly what emotion is behind his eyes, but it’s intense and it’s devastating, and Eddie suddenly feels like he can’t breathe. 

“Uh-” A nervous laugh stutters out of him. He rescinds his touch. “Twin scars, huh?” he remarks, cracking a crooked smile and attempting to change this strange, suffocating energy with a joke. “Hell of a matching tattoo. Next time let’s just exchange friendship bracelets like normal people do, yeah?”

Steve huffs, a short burst of laughter that escapes from his chest like it’s been punched out of him. “Since when have you ever done anything like a normal person?” he teases in return as he pulls his shirt back down.

Just like that, blown away by Steve’s playful smile, the weird tension lifts. Eddie grins back. “Alright, fair point.” He adds, “Those are gonna be some pretty metal scars, Stevie.”

“Not as metal as yours,” Steve says warmly, settling back in his chair and kicking one leg over the other. “You’re the one that literally survived death, Ed. It doesn’t get any more metal than that.” 

“Now who’s the smoothtalker?” Eddie smirks, and he hopes he isn’t blushing. Steve Harrington calling him metal with so much pride and affection in his voice is doing numbers on his heart. Curse this stupid fucking crush.

Steve eyes divert briefly to the heart monitor, which has not once calmed down since the second he’d lifted up his shirt, and Eddie is so sure that he knows then, that he’s finally made the connection between what’s got Eddie’s heart racing, but he doesn’t say anything, just laughs it off again, smiling like everything’s completely normal as he looks back at Eddie and rolls his eyes and mutters in return, “Shut up.” 

“Make me,” Eddie mumbles, not quick enough to bite back the words before they fall from his mouth, only managing to lower his voice enough that maybe Steve didn’t hear him. 

“What?” 

“TV?” Eddie grabs the remote, pretends like that’s what he’d said in the first place. Real smooth. 

“Oh, sure.” Steve shrugs. If he noticed Eddie’s slip, he gives no indication of it. 

Eddie turns on the TV and they spend the next hour or so laughing and making fun of the bad acting on the show that’s playing. Easy, normal, platonic. Eddie’s heart rate stabilizes, remaining even so long as he doesn’t look too long at Steve’s smile. 

When sleep starts lapping at Eddie’s consciousness, he doesn’t fear it anymore. Silently, he holds out his hand, and Steve takes it, wrapping him in the warmth and protection that allows Eddie to let himself drift off undaunted. 

And in his dreams his hands skate across Steve’s skin again.

(part seven)

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[jester089]

I absolutely loved Locked Away! If you’re doing requests may I request an alternate ending to Locked Away with the same characters where they get to actually help reader recover from their mind breaking instead of them just being sent back to the cellar? I’d imagine it’d take a while for reader to fully recover but reader’s s/o would probably be really happy to see reader slowly get back to their normal self :)

Stuck with you

Thanks for request you lovely reader. Were so polite too. I'll do my best! Most likely gonna be super fluffy. And for anyone else who felt like it requests are open. So feel free.

Caine

In this string of events he doesn't put you back into the cellar. Despite being an AI he just cares to much about you to throw you away like that. The only real notable differences from before is Caine's softer with you and is often looking through your code to see how you were able to overcome abstraction. In a situation like that no less. And with constant attention from him your start improving! After a month or two pass you start reacting to things again, you even spoke a few times! Sure your voice is much quieter and shakier then before and you jump at a lot more, but you getting better. If Caine could cry he would have. And I am happy to announce that after around a half a year of time your back! Mostly... You different from before, but it's still you. And after enough time and assurance that your ok Caine lets you stay in your old room again everyone feeling a lot of relief seeing that giant X be taken off your door.

Gangle

Hope your ready to have a clingy piece of ribbon constantly touching you in one way or another. When you were taken out by Caine Gangle couldn't have been happier. You and her have gone through a lot though since the last time you saw each other so she'll be pretty overprotective for a while. And their will be a lot of breakdowns between the two of you, that and it' wi'll take a long time for either of you to feel like yourselves again. After a few months of Gangle constantly clinging to you, you start showing some improvement she starts to give you a little space. Emphasis on a little. She still isn't ok with not being in the same room as you but she is ok with not being in physical contact for over a minute now. Once you and Gangle are feeling more like yourselves again Gangle will even start using her comedy mask again! And once your feeling ok with actually talking and being around the others kick Jax in the D$&# for me. Cause even during all this he still constantly bullied Gangle and you. You were broken and she was on the verge of joining you. But with her there you felt, safe. And just having you to hold and talk to again is enough to make Gangle not at risk for abstraction. For now.

Zooble

She sadly didn't show up when you first got back. She didn't even believe you were alive until Ragatha and Pomni started spamming her doorbell and pounding on her door again. She got up and swung the door open full ready to berate the two over doing that so soon after she lost you. And so soon after they made the messed up joke of you being ok. She didn't even get a word out before she froze. Y-you were there... Standing in front of her! She reached out with a shaky hand not believing that it was really you. Once she realizes it is really you, you're quickly get tackled into a hug. She's crying so hard she can't even see, staining both of your faces with tears, peppering your face with kisses Don't ask me how if she doesn't have a mouth. But you didn't react. You didn't giggle, or blush, or push her away because you were overwhelmed. She felt a light tap on her shoulder to see Ragatha standing there rubbing the back of her head sheepishly. After Zooble got clued in on what happened she swore to stick with you, doesn't matter if you got messed up in the cellar. She isn't giving up on you. She can and will stick by your side until either you get better, or you two die of old age. She's gentle with you of course but I feel like she would force you to come out of your rooms. And with you there again she was ok with going on adventures again, even going out of her way to request more lighthearted and easy ones from Caine, just for you and her. You know that scene where she strangled Jax though her arm wasn't attached. Yeah, she's going to constantly have one of her hands holding yours. Even if she isn't there she isn't just going to leave you all alone. And if you ask her she'll leave you both her arms, maybe even a leg or two. Sure it's a pain in her a$& not having a limb or limbs, but in her mind you come first.

Ragatha

When she heard that you were back she believed it in an instant. Sprinting to where Caine said you were faster then you would except a ragdoll to be able to go. When she sees you she wants so bad to squeeze the life out of you but she holds off. You abstracted before, what if she did something wrong and it happened again!?! She can't... No, she wont let that happen. So she is very very gentle with you treating you like you would crumble to dust if she looked away or accidentally saying something not positive in your presence. After you and Ragatha are safe and in one of your rooms she is just going to awkwardly sit there staring at you. While you were gone she went over in her mind what she would do if you were back so many times. But now your here, sitting in front of her. And she can't even bring herself to move or speak a single word. You two sit there for who knows how long until you end up falling asleep and flopping over onto her, just like you did so many times before... you know. That snaps her out of it. This isn't some fragile item. It's you... It's YOU! YOUR ACTUALLY HERE! YOUR ALIVE! You falling asleep on her is when it finally sinks in that your back. This isn't some F"!@%# up trick. She lays her forehead against yours and just listens to you breath eventually falling asleep as well.

Jax

It's kind of messed up but Jax has the highest likely hood or breaking you again after your better, or making you worse when your mind is still fragile. It's just he has gone through a lot while you were gone, not once showing or acting on any of his emotions keeping them all inside bottled up. Then seeing you sitting on his bed staring at him with glazed over eyes pops the corks off all those bottles. All at once making poor you have to deal with just about every emotion all at once. Moving past that, much like Zooble he makes sure you get out more. And surprisingly he will let you talk to and be around others despite all the pent up fear he has based around you. But if someone says or does something that you at all negatively react to he is going to be ROYALLY PISSED. He keeps like that for a while but upon seeing you start to improve, he lightens up a lot. Just seeing you react and talk again is enough to help with a lot of his inner turmoil. And once your at least mostly back to being yourself he will be too. Back to being a prankster and kind of an A*#hole. But he will never once tease you about what you went though. He would sooner throw himself into that cellar before he even thought of teasing you with that.

Pomni

Since you've been gone Pomni's been, well a mess. She was unstable before you left. Seeing you again shifted something in her. She was there with Caine when you got out of the cellar. When she saw you in all your glory she just stared for who knows how long before passing out. The two of you were moved to one of your rooms probably by either Caine or Ragatha who were just trying to help. But every time she wakes up and comes face to face with you she gets overwhelmed and passes out again. It's just too much. So if you both want to come out the other side still together relationship and mind wise you'll have to take it slow. Really slow. Ragatha will more likely then not be in charge or slowly introducing you two to each other again. And Pomni makes good progress. You do too. But every time her mind wanders back to that day you abstracted she looses most of her progress. So sadly it's mostly up to you. With Ragatha's help your going to have to pull yourself out of that pit in your mind. And when your at least mostly yourself again Pomni will start actually improving. It'll feel wrong but the best way to get her ok with being around you without having a breakdown is exposure therapy. And a lot of it. Just spend time with you as well as with a little luck you two can pick up where you left off. Or at the very least close to it.

(If you ask me this didn't turn out good. If you the requester for this post agree with that feel free to ask me to repeat it. Sometimes my writing gets wonky cause I was in a weird mood. Still I hope you enjoyed it! That applies to the rest of you too!)

xoxo, Jester

[crazyyluvr]

Ahhhh that Jason fic was so good! I loved how you write him so stern and caring!

I was wondering if you could do another Jason fic where reader is sort of working herself weary, maybe she feels like she has something to prove especially with how powerful everyone is so she’s been volunteering for watches and missions and helping hedge and just everything she can around the ship and she starts to crack a bit so everyone tries to get her to take a break but she’s super stubborn and no one can except Jason on like his third try she finally gives in and rests?

(Like when he told Hazel to eat in your last fic, sort of that vibe it makes me weak in the knees!)

pairing: jason x gf!ares!reader

summary: Jason notices you're overworking yourself again, and despite him and everyone on the Argo II trying to tell you to take a break, you never really sit your ass down until he finally convinces you to do so.

genre: angst/comfort

wc: 2.6k

warning/s: cursing, fem reader, she/her pronouns, overworking, jason being stern, stubborn reader, mmm godly father issues, breakdown

note: thank you for your request anon!! i hope it's fine that i made this one kind of a continuation of this oneshot, but it can be read seperately. enjoy!

oneshot under the cut :: not edited

Jason always admired your hard work and determination.

Sure, you were constantly aggressive about it and telling everyone to fuck off if they complimented you on that, he still considered it one of the countless things that he loved about you.

But of course, there were times where that hard work and determination would lead to something unmanageable, like your tendency to overwork yourself.

You were an expert at hiding it, but Jason knew that beneath your tough and angry exterior, you always felt like you weren't giving enough despite giving a little too much already. You were a daughter of Ares, and your godly lineage didn't grant you much except for anger issues.

You weren't as good with weapons as your siblings. You definitely weren't as good at anything as Clarisse, your half-sister and your dad's favorite kid. Actually, all your other brothers and sisters had at least some sign that Ares acknowledged their existence. You on the other hand got nothing except that you could reach your boiling point seven times faster than the average person.

They have to thank Jason for being there to calm you down, because they all don't just feel like, but they know that if he wasn't with them, the ship would have sunk two days in the water or air.

They never really expected you to be the type to give all — and I mean, all your energy into whatever you need to do.

Replacing the ripped sails after a battle with some pirates? Step back. If not, you'd just push any one of them out of the way and grab the new sails from them and replace it on your own. Frank was a constant victim, despite being the burliest of them.

A large tentacle wrapped around the ship? They don't dare to think about chopping it into pieces before you came in, sword weaving through the monster like it was made of clay. Percy steps out from below decks to give the monster a little chat but slips on the blood it left in its wake.

Zeus/Jupiter decided to fuck around with them and send a lightning bolt striking almost right beside Percy? You'd immediately push him into the nearest demigod's arms and put out the fire yourself before the water boy could even process what was happening.

Even the simplest tasks around the Argo II, like cleaning the stables, rearranging the medbay, cleaning up the kitchen either after a meal or after the ship was constantly swaying and made a mess of fallen plates and food, you'd curse someone out just for trying to grab a broom or open their mouth to tell you that they can do it instead.

Jason was no exception to this treatment, and he didn't expect to be; he just wanted to make sure that you knew your limits as well as he did.

"You're low on medical equipment," Hedge grunted, stepping into the small dining room one afternoon while everyone was eating lunch. "I'm gonna go restock it."

Today was a slow day for the eight demigods, and they were grateful for it. All they had to do was the usual chores before they could chill anywhere on the ship.

Which is why no one was surprised you were the one who wanted to break the mundane routine. "I'll go with you," you huffed, standing up with your plate in your hands, maneuvering around the short half goat man to put the dirty dish in the sink. "I'll make sure your stupid fur brains doesn't get the wrong shit."

"Us satyrs are damn good healers, mind you!" Hedge bleated angrily.

You rolled your eyes. "Yeah with colored leaves and rituals and shit."

Before Hedge could retaliate, Annabeth stepped into the conversation. "You should rest today. I can go with Hedge and help him pick out the right items."

"No need, Brains," You shot her down. "I can do this. Are you suggesting otherwise?" Your voice raised threateningly, making Annabeth raise her hands in surrender.

"No, but I —"

"Good." You turned back to Hedge. "Let's go before you get more dirt on floor I just mopped, old man."

You left the room without waiting for the satyr to follow. Hedge muttered colorful insults under his breath, moving to exit the dining as well before Jason stopped him by asking, "Coach, can you watch over her? She's been working constantly these past few weeks, and she hasn't really caught a break."

Hedge rose an eyebrow. "Can't you do that yourself? Aren't you her boyfriend or something?"

"I tried, but it's hard to convince her," Jason sighed, leaning back in his chair exhaustedly. "Just — look out for her, yeah? And don't tell her I told you."

"Yeah, yeah, I know," Hedge waved him off. "It'll be my head."

The coach left without another word.

"I'm worried about her," Percy confessed, Frank and Piper nodding in agreement. "I tried asking her if she needed help yesterday, and she almost bit my head off."

"And you would've thought that she'd learn by now to stop herself when she starts to overwork again," Leo commented.

Hazel sighed. "If she doesn't give herself time to recharge, she's going to shut down."

Jason simply played around with his leftover food, deep in thought. "Yeah..."

—————

Thank the gods you returned without any issues besides the usual profanities exchanged between you and Hedge. He left soon after that, claiming that he had "business elsewhere," and said that they should get going on their journey without him.

They left the day after that. They knew he'd make his way back to camp eventually.

The streak of calm continued, even as the Argo II departed from the sea and launched into the air. There weren't as much monsters that showed up to annoy them like flies hovering in their ears.

You and Jason were on watch that night. Thankfully, there wasn't much of a threat in the clouds, so Jason just sat down on a random crate while you paced around, playing with the straps of your leather breastplate.

"Hey, you can sit down for a while," Jason said, watching you go to and from the large wooden post in the middle.

You scowled at him in response. "We're supposed to be on watch. If we relax, we fall asleep. If we fall asleep, monsters attack. If monsters attack, the others could get swept up in that shit knowing how stupid they are."

Your concern for your other crewmates was evident despite how much you tried to hide it by insulting their abilities.

"Sweetheart, its okay," Jason said, still trying to convince you. He wasn't feeling all that tired, which is why he could cover for the both of you. You, on the other hand, looked like you were going insane, the dark half-circles under your eyes apparent even in the weak and diluted moonlight. "You can for now. I promise I'll wake —"

"I can't rest!" Your voice cracked slightly as you whipped around to face him, your eyes wide with a wildness that caught Jason off guard and made him stand up in concern. "I... I just can't..."

You tried to walk away, but your knees collapsed from below you. "Woah careful!"

In a flash, your boyfriend was by your side, barely being able to catch you before you could fully crumple to the ground. "Easy, easy..."

He tried to put your arm around his shoulders so he could lead you to sit down on another crate, but you pushed yourself away from him. Being unable to support yourself, you fell down on your ass.

"What are you doing?" Jason asked, moving to approach you, but you put up your hand to stop him.

"Fuck off, I don't need help," you said, trying to sound angry, but all Jason could hear was your exhaustion.

"Hey, stop being stubborn," Jason frowned, stepping towards you and putting your arm around his shoulders successfully this time, despite your protests and your struggles to get out of his iron grip.

"Fine, just — just put me down there," You gestured to the crate he was sitting on previously. He was originally going to bring you down to your room, but judging from the glance you gave him from the corner of your eye, you could still snap his arm in half if you wanted to.

And so, he obliged, making sure that your feet barely touched the ground as he basically carried you to your destination. He gently set you on the crate, making sure to stand close in front of you so that you wouldn't try to bolt.

"Explain," he said, crossing his arms and peering down at you. You turned your head away from his gaze, and he realized how vulnerable you looked: your eyes were darting around in a desperate attempt to stay alert, but they constantly glazed over, unfocused. Your hands were now fiddling with the strings of your hoodie, their movements slow and groggy. Your upper body was even swaying.

"I..." You started, but sighed and looked up at him. "It's stupid."

Jason's brows furrowed even more at your dismissal. "You almost collapsed from exhaustion. There has to be at least a valid reason for you to compromise your health like that."

You wanted to clamp your jaw shut, but Jason's intense glare made you open your mouth and speak. "You want to know? Fine, I'll tell you. Everyone relies on me — besides Twitchy Fingers — to do what is needed to keep this ship afloat by making sure it doesn't get completely destroyed by the Tartarus-spawn. Every time someone tries to do my job for me, I don't want them to because what if they fuck up and something bad happens? That's gonna be my fuck-up too. I —" You looked away again. "I just can't relax knowing that some bad shit might happen and it'll be my fault."

"I think you're underestimating how well the rest of us can do," Jason said lightly, chuckling a little as he tried to make lift the atmosphere up a little. It didn't work. "We can't do as well as you, of course, but we can manage."

"Oh please, I know damn well how good the rest of you are," You hissed, catching Jason off guard with the anger behind your words. "You all got your own skill sets that your godly parents planted in you that you got to fucking nurture. Even Annabeth, who doesn't have any actual powers, is more of a smartass than all of us combined."

Jason opened his mouth to retaliate, to say that you're downgrading yourself too much, but you didn't let him speak as your voice rose. "And what in the Tartarus did I get from my shitty dad? Fuckin' — fuckin' anger issues, that's what I got. Everything I'm good at — my fighting, my speed, everything — I did that. Ares gave me none of that. That was all me.

"And the moment I thought he'd actually look at me, that he'd acknowledge that I was his kid besides when he claimed me seven months after I came into camp," Your voice got louder still, cracking a little as your eyes got mistier, "is to pay a little visit to Frank in his Roman counterpart."

You stood up now, your body fueled with anger and frustration and other emotions that can't be described. "You wanna know the real reason why I work myself to the brink of exhaustion every time I do what I do, Jason?" Your smile looked maniacal. The few tears that escaped the confines of your lashes didn't really help. "It's because I don't fucking deserve to stand among you. I don't deserve to be on this quest. I don't deserve to be called a 'hero' when we return home as your godly parents shower you with love and attention while mine just thinks 'oh, my kid survived? I had a kid involved?'"

Your body was shaking, but you were done. You fell back down on the crate, holding your head in your hands.

Jason blinked, processing your breakdown. His own chest was contracting painfully as the weight of your words settled in his brain and his heart.

You were feeling this the entire time? Why didn't you say anything?

Your body flinched as you tried to contain a sob, snapping Jason back to reality.

He sat down beside you and wrapped his arm around your waist, pulling you close to him. "Oh sweetheart," he sighed sympathetically. "It's okay to cry. Cry as hard as you need."

Jason expected you to push him off of you again, to tell him to not be stupid and to try and bottle your emotions up again. He hoped you wouldn't.

And you didn't. Instead. you took your face out of your hands and planted it on his shoulder, your own shoulder shaking terribly from your suppressed sobs. "Let it out," he cooed, and you didn't hesitate to drown your sobs on the fabric of his t-shirt, subconsciously moving even closer to his body.

He wrapped both his arms around you as he fixed his position, his upper body now almost fully facing you to give you more comforting hug.

He stroked the back of your head and whispered sweet nothings into your ear as you let all your pent-up anger, frustration, disappointment, and just overall sadness. He even planted light kisses over the parts of you that he could reach; your neck, cheek, temple, crown.

It took you a little while for your sobs to turn into little hiccups, but eventually, you were able to calm down. Jason didn't mind that his shoulder was soaked from your tears. He didn't mind that his spine was stiff from being in a slightly uncomfortable position for a period of time. He didn't mind that you were feeling weak and stupid.

Because even after all that, he still saw you as the strongest and most powerful person he knew.

"What about we go back to my room and rest?" Jason suggested softly. You lifted your head in protest, but Jason pushed it back down to his chest. "I'm sure Hazel and Frank are having trouble sleeping from the good nap they had earlier. They can cover for us."

"I don't want to burden them," You said weakly.

Jason immediately shook his head. "You're a burden to no one on this ship, okay? They won't mind. And besides, it's not weak to ask for a little help once in a while. No one thinks you're weak."

You looked up at him. "You sure?"

Jason nodded, smiling softly. "Absolutely. From what I can see, you're the strongest person here."

You raise an eyebrow. "You sure there's no bias there?"

"Yes I'm 100% sure," Jason said seriously, before breaking into a smile when a breathy laugh escaped your lips. You don't do it often, but Jason loved your laughs. They were always genuine, and Jason would do anything to make you laugh again.

"So, what do you say? Let's go to my dorm," Jason said, supporting you when he felt you moving to stand up.

"You better not do anything weird to me, Grace," you threatened, but there was no heat behind your words.

Jason smiled softly, leading you back below decks. "Never."

He left you in the dorm before he went to convince Hazel and Frank to cover their shift, promising that he'll make up for it. They didn't care. They were just happy that you were finally resting.

Once the blonde boy returned, he found that you were already curled up under the sheets, face relaxed and breaths coming out of you evenly. His eyes softened fondly at your peaceful and stress-free features.

He flipped the light switches, blanketing his room in darkness as he navigated under the sheets to join you. He gathered you up in his arms and curled against you, sighing in content.

"Good night, sweetheart," he whispered against your head, placing a small kiss on the back of it as he felt sleep slowly invade his vision. "I love you."

[eremorte]

thronecoming heritage hall gifts (rewritten)

The Thronecoming heritage hall gifts bug me. Most of them don’t feel like a parent has gifted them. They are so uninspired for the biggest moment in their child’s life.

I’ve listed my replacements below. I’m hoping for the gifts to have a, if had-to-do-it-again-here’s-what-I’d-want vibe.

blondie lockes

OG gift: running shoes

rewritten gift: a new piece of tech that helps her with her mirror cast. A shiny new microphone or even just a cute news reporter accessory that acknowledges her unintended break from destiny (or rather extremely developed hobby/career because her story can be over in like 30 minutes) it also gives off the initial impression that blondie’s story is “just right” the way it is until.. boom! There’s a note.

That mentions that as Goldilocks has reflected on her role and how she regrets hurting the bears the ways she has* and with an extra perceptive daughter like blondie she is sure to find a worthy story (within bounds) that won’t cause baby bear to develop a complex. *insert long list of things here that blondie could comment on in her stead because the story book of legends didn’t write every worthwhile critique of the bear house and the bears despite “forgiving” her won’t let her talk to them about this* and a small comment of how she is super proud about blondie that hopefully eases some of her attention seeking behavior so she’s less of a brat later on.

cerise hood:

OG Gift: picnic basket with an electronic mirror lock.

revised gift: honestly I have no comment. This is a great gift. My only question is how recently the presents are placed in the hall seeing as how that basket spit up a whole bird leg. Maybe it has a special note of the picnic menu they have in celebration once the whole shebang is done.

o hair twins:

OG gift floating hair brushes

rewritten gift given how Rapunzel’s story is that she was locked away her whole life because her bio mom ate a magical plant while pregnant that the witch wasn’t sure of the side effects of and had to lock her away because damn sure bio parents couldn’t do anything if the witch was second guessing herself. What I think should be there are odd bits an bobs function like an Easter egg hunt of a map and post fairytale notes one what they are that Rapunzel is certain her girls can figure out because they have her plant powers (though probably diluted hence the helpful notes incase they have to solve things like their adoptive grandma ).

briar beauty

NOW FOR THE GIRL WHO INSPIRED THIS POST. Her gift makes me so angry. It is the most nothing gift of the whole bunch. You mean to tell me that a hundred year sleep doesn’t come with any regrets at all? Not one thing?

OG gift A neck pillow.

revised gift: A SCRAPBOOK. The first few pages could be filled with pictures of her family. Bonus points if they’re are people Briar wouldn’t have gotten the chance to meet but knows who they are by virtue of her mom. It hits home exactly how big her sacrifice is. Also all the storybook imagery? The intro? Imagine if there was a dark time line where we were being told everything that happen through briar who missed all of it and is trying to piece back something familiar?

either way, mental breakdown and existential crisis guaranteed.

also bonus. It’s totally merchandisable. Half the book mercy was essentially scrapbooks/concept art anyhow.

Cedar wood: revealer rays

it’s a good gift but something she wouldn’t be able to use in her story at all. They are not subtle and most everyone who knows about Cedar knows that Pinocchio didn’t mess up her eyes to the point she’d feasibly need glasses. Revised gift: letters from the blue fairy (well wishes, maybe an helpful hint or two) Gepetto and Pinocchio (things to to try (and not repeat) once she’s no longer wooden and how to lie effectively) I can’t think of a physical possession for Cedar to have. But I feel she’d appreciate these. Maybe a special cricket/donkey whistle?

duchess swan:

no gift shown but what I have in mind is a mix of briar and blondie’s gift.

a collection of letters (written on leaves and paper or something) from both her mom and her bio dad detailing the bitter sweet love in the tragedy to reassure duchess it’s not all bad. And a special pair of dancing shoes for her last night as a human. I imagine this gift would only make duchess mad.

Madeline hatter:

no gift shown and honestly idk what the mad hatter gives his daughter it’s probably perfect. An old hat that looks very normal actually? A crazy new teapot? Who knows?

raven queen:

og gift wand wishing well coin

honestly I want to know the logic behind the wand. Is it a back up battery in case apple thwarts raven through zapping away her powers somehow?

I have multiple suggestions

Something that contains directions to the true SBOL

recipe for the poison apple

something that originally belonged to someone in the Snow White family that she is proud enough to share with her daughter (raven would probably give it back).

*blondie branches out mentions how Goldilocks promised to be a better person.

[byeoltoyuki]

✧ Give it to me ✧ - part 1

↳ Pairing: Bangchan x Reader / Felix x Reader (kind of)

❧ Genre : gang au / romance / smut / strangers to lovers / fluff / some fake texts

❧ Words: 31k

Part 1 : +17k ⎢Part 2 : +13k

❧ Warnings : Violence / mention of death / guns / mention of drugs / mention of human trafficking / smut (in part 2)

❧ Summary: Everything in life has a cost. Even freedom. To be finally out of your father’s clutches you were ready for everything. Including making a deal with the Devil. 

❧ A/N: After rewritting this story twice, I'm finally done with it. Can't say it was easy and I can't thank enough my friends who had to deal with my mental breakdowns, all my complaining and frustration. Thank you to my baby koala for this lovely moodboard ❤️

It was supposed to be a prompt but somehow I got carried away.

Since tumblr didn't let me post the story in one part, I cut it. The 2nd part will come out shortly ❤️.

Hope you enjoy your reading!

▾▾▾

“Boss wants to see you.” Ren interrupted your peaceful, and only way of escape, reading time as he stepped inside your room without knocking.

You barely glanced at him. One, your book was way more interesting than whatever he had to say. Two, it was Ren, your bodyguard, and your probably only friend in this place, which meant he was completely used to your behavior and could definitely deal with it. Three, the mention of the ‘Boss’ who happened to be your father, was a good enough excuse for ignoring him.

And Ren expected nothing less from you. From the moment he was asked to bring you to your father’s office, he knew, he was sent to a bloody loud battle. “Can you please for once make it easy?”

You slammed the book shut, giving him your undivided attention, trying to look as sweet and innocent as possible. Which would have worked on anyone other than Ren. He had seen it all and saw through you. Not surprising (yet still incredibly annoying in your opinion) considering you had spent the last two years in his company. Two years in hell could be a very long time.

“You’d get bored if it was easy.” You commented and crawled to the edge of your bed; eyes locked on him.

Ren considered for a moment to just throw you over his shoulder and carry you to the office. It was so damn tempting. Instead, he sighed and pleaded. “Please.”

“Boring.” You huffed, disappointed. However, you quickly recovered from your disappointment as you spotted a bright red cut showing from under his shirt. You frowned and immediately got on your feet. “What’s this?” You pulled at his shirt too harshly, fingers brushing the cut – Ren winced and slapped your hand away.

“Nothing.” But it wasn’t nothing. If Ren could read you like a book, so could you. You had been around him long enough to pick up his habits, especially when he was lying. He was trying to look everywhere except at your face and he was clenching his fists.

Ren wanted you to drop the subject, he didn’t need you to be noisy about it and do something probably incredibly stupid that would attract attention on the two of you. But he knew a lost battle when he saw one.

And he was right. You reached for the edge of his shirt and lifted it without asking for his permission, knowing damn well he wouldn’t agree to it, knowing he would do anything to avoid troubling you. Your grip on his shirt tightened, knuckles turning white, as you saw the damage. His chest wasn’t covered in just cuts but also with bright purple bruises.

“Who?” You whispered, voice shaking in both anger and pain.

“I got into a fight with John.” Ren ended up admitting. He could have tried to lie his way out, but one glance at your face was enough to convince him that telling the truth was the better option.

You let go of his shirt and took a step back. Of course, it was John. Nobody in their right mind would mess with Ren, he was known for being a strong fighter and a cold killer. But John? John was your father’s right-hand and a real piece of shit. You had known him half of your life and hated it him from day one.

You counted to ten, breath in, breath out. Nope, still angry.

“This fucker! God, can he just die already? Nobody is going to mourn him.” You yelled in frustration. “Except maybe for my father.” You pointed an accusing finger at him. “Why the hell did you let him beat the crap out of you? I refuse to believe that you’re weaker than him.”

Ren was touched that you had such a high opinion of his skills. “I’m not. But John is Boss’s right-hand. I can’t mess with him without risking my position. Unless you want someone else as your bodyguard.”

You cringed at his suggestion. You didn’t want him to be your bodyguard to begin with, but with time you got used to him. But getting another one? Hell no.

“What does he want?” You changed the subject.

“No idea.” Ren shrugged.

▾▾▾

You never liked visiting your father’s office. You couldn’t explain why it bothered you so much, but it did. Maybe it had something to do with him doing his evil business from inside, or maybe whether he summoned you inside, he had bad news for you. Today was not an exception.

John was standing by your father’s desk, hands behind his back, his face wore a smug expression which caused your unease to grow only more. There was definitely some bad news for you.

Without fully realizing it, you glanced over your shoulder just to confirm that Ren was following you, his presence bringing a very needed comfort while facing your father. You fully ignored John and instead approached your father’s desk, trying not to show your annoyance (which would bring you even more problems). “You asked for me?”

“I did.” Your father confirmed without raising his head from the documents he was reading. “We’re attending a charity party tonight. I had your dress delivered to your room.”

The urge to complain was burning through you. Those parties had always been the bane of your existence; boring, filled with arrogant people; some were politician, some were just filthy rich, but some, like your father, were criminals who had no problem to blend in.

“I expect you to be on your best behavior.” Your father finally raised his head to look at you, his brows furrowed. He thought that he had you finally under control, especially after the little incident from last year, but something told him he should be careful. Especially tonight, when so much was on stake.

“Why?” You dared to ask. There had to be a reason he insisted on you being a good girl, one that would probably displease you, but you still wanted to hear it.

Your father approached you without a word but his eyes spoke louder than any word could. He didn’t hesitate, not even for a second – he slapped you. “Listen well, Y/N. Tonight, I’m going to introduce you to a very powerful man who’s also my new business partner. You will present yourself as the perfect daughter that you are. A pretty, polite, lady. If you don’t-“ He paused, choosing carefully his next words, “Let’s say that what happened last year would seem like a nice dream.”

▾▾▾

“What an asshole!” You screamed the moment you got back inside your room, Ren following you like your shadow. He didn’t need to be so close to you when you were stuck in your room, in fact, he had no business at all following you inside your room, but he was worried.

“I can’t believe he wants to parade me like a damn trophy.” You continued mumbling to yourself, fuming with rage.

Of course, it wouldn’t be the first time he would bring you to one of those parties just to show his beautiful little girl, but you could tell tonight would be different. You didn’t know in what way, but it couldn’t be anything good. Not when he threatened you so nicely. Not when out of all the threats he could have chosen, he chose to remind you of the consequences of your last attempt at escaping.

You grabbed a vase from the cupboard and threw it across the room.

“Y/N.” Ren grabbed your hands, stopping you in your fit of rage. “Look at me.”

You refused, shaking your head. The need to lash out, to scream was just so strong, you could barely hold back.  Even Ren’s presence was making you angry, his attempt at calming you made things so much worse. You tried to get rid of his grip, to put space between the two of you but it was of no use. Ren was much stronger; he didn’t even budge which only fueled your rage.

“Let me go. Right now.” You ordered; your voice filled with poison. A wrong word from him and he would feel the power of your rage.

But Ren being Ren kept his calm. He had been around you long enough to know, to understand how you worked. He saw what you could become when trapped. “Y/N.” He let go of your hands, only to cup your face and force you to look at him.

It was really unfair how big, how bright, how gentle, his eyes were. There was no resent, no anger in his eyes, no will to tell you what to do, only genuine worry and wish to help you. “Breath.”

Easy thing to say when your whole body was boiling with rage.

“Come on, pretty. Do it for me, please.”

You closed your eyes and concentrated on his voice, on this touch, his scent to ground you. His deep yet incredibly sweet voice.

“Yes, just like that.” He praised you while he stroked your cheek with his thumb, trying to help you to calm down. “You’re doing so well, pretty.”

Slowly, his gentle strokes along with his praises helped you to breath properly, your heartbeat slowed down, your blood no longer boiling. Resentment was the only thing left inside you and sadly, there was nothing to get rid of it.

“It’s red.” Ren commented, his thumb brushing lightly against the red mark on your face.

It didn’t hurt that much anymore. In fact, you forgot all about it because of your anger. “Nothing makeup can’t hide.”

“I still hate it.”

Of course, he did.

You were truly amazed how things had changed between you two in just two years. The first time your father had introduced you to the freckled man, you hated his guts instantly, no matter how pretty he looked with his long blond hair, pretty nose and pretty freckles.  

It wasn’t like he had done anything for you to hate him, but he was your father’s man and someone he trusted enough to deal with you. And you had been right to be wary of him. After all, he was the one who found you and brought you back after your last attempt at escaping. He was the one who, because you refused to come back, killed your friend without blinking an eye. You loathed him for that.

Now, you could wonder why you managed to get past that. You didn’t really know yourself. Maybe because he was forced to be your shadow. Maybe because whenever you got beaten up, he was the one taking care of your wounds and comforting you. Maybe because despite his loyalty to your father, he still showed you compassion and would even help you to go out more often than you were allowed. to 

“Penny for your thoughts?” Ren asked

You watched him closely; his pretty lips that were too inviting for your liking. His pretty, shining eyes. His curls. Everything about Ren was pretty and tempting. For a moment, you forgot all about your rage and instead felt rather playful. Why the hell not. “Want to help me to get dressed?”

Ren rolled his eyes in response and gently pushed you from him. “Don’t start.” It wasn’t a first time he was warning you. But did you listen? Not really.

You laughed instead. “Too bad for you!”

You pulled your shirt over your head, unbothered with his presence. In fact, you made sure to stand close enough to him, just to see if he still had it in him to resist. You had to give it to him; Ren had a strong self-control, but for how long? It wasn’t the first time you undressed with him in the room; you loved seeing him clench his fists, frowning as you were testing his patience.

“Y/N.” Ren called for you, his voice getting incredibly deep and dangerous, sending shivers down your spine. “You can’t keep doing that.” But did it stop him from admiring you? Did it stop him from looking at your fully exposed, pretty breasts? Absolutely not. Unknowingly to him, he licked his lips.

“Says who?” You challenged him, your hands slowly reaching for the buttons of your shorts.

It was apparently the wrong thing to say and to do. In a matter of seconds, he had you pinned against the wall, one hand wrapped around your throat while the other was holding your wrists above your head. His body was pressed against yours, warm and firm. A knee right between your thighs – you had to bite back a moan.

If he was trying to look intimidating, he was doing a poor job. Did he expect you to cower before him just because you were pinned against a wall? What a joke. His proximity set your whole body on fire. You didn’t care at all about getting dressed, you wanted him to touch you, to feel those lovely lips on your skin.

“Stop doing that.” He growled. A growl that vibrated through you.

“Do what?” You tried to look innocent, pretending not to know what you were doing.

Ren clicked his tongue in annoyance and moved his face closer, patience running thin. “I’m still a man remember?” His lips mere inches from yours, so easily to reach for, so tempting.

“Are you?” You dared him, wishing nothing more than for him to lose his self-control and have some fun.

It was a bad idea. A very bad idea. You knew, he knew. And nobody gave a damn.

“Fuck.” Ren cursed, his lips crashing against yours. He completely let go of your hands, letting you wrap your arms around his neck, letting you press yourself harder against him as you kissed him back with just as much intensity, with just as much need and despair.

Ren didn’t hesitate. He lifted you from the floor. You wrapped your legs around his middle, your mouth devouring his. Gone was the sweet-looking man, replaced with a hungry beast who wanted nothing more than devour you whole. And he did.

▾▾▾

Just like you had expected it, the party was not your cup of tea. Fortunately for you, whatever your father had planned for you, he didn’t expect it to happen right from the beginning which left you some very deserved freedom. Ren had followed you to the party, like expected from him, but instead of staying by your side like he would usually do, he chose to watch you from afar, looking dashing in his suit with his hair pushed back. He stared back at you, his face blank, making it impossible to guess what he was thinking about.

You licked your lips as memories of him between your legs, feasting on you, mere hours ago, played in your mind.

“I must say,” Soojin started saying, her eyes also on Ren, “This man is hot.”

You looked at your friend with a smile. You had met Soojin at one of those parties. She was bored, you were bored and just like that you had bonded. It wasn’t that hard considering how bold Soojin was. She was a free spirit, a beautiful young woman, an excellent actress who had your father fooled. Or maybe she was just that charming. Your father accepted your friendship and even let you meet her outside of those boring parties. You admired her for this miracle.

“I know.” You hid your smile in your drink.

“You’re hot too by the way.”

You knew you were. Despite your hatred for your father, you couldn’t deny that he had great taste when it came to clothes. Especially those you had to wear. He had chosen a long, sleeveless, bright red dress that hugged all your curves perfectly. “When am I not?”

“True!” She laughed heartily. “But there must be a special occasion or?”

See, in addition to being extremely beautiful and charming, she was also incredibly perceptive and clever. “Apparently, I’m about to meet his new business partner. I’m not looking forward.”

Soojin nodded her head in understanding. “Probably another rich, arrogant, old man.”

‘Just like my father.’ You wanted to add but refrained. Your face however said it all.

Soojin patted your arm. There wasn’t much she could do to help you except being herself and try to distract you from bad thoughts. But even that wouldn’t last.

Soojin noticed your father walking towards you with a frown. “Get ready, the monster is approaching.”

To avoid an open argument, you chose to join your father before he could reach the two of you. You gave Soojin a reassuring smile before looking back at your father. It was time to play pretend. With him and the others.

“Remember what I told you.” He said the moment you joined his side, linking your arm with his.

How could you forget. You put on your prettiest smile and walked with him. Two men were waiting for you in the middle of the room. One around your father’s age, looking dangerous and just evil with the way he was looking at people. The younger man, however, looked simply out of place.

“Rick!” The older man called for your father; a big smile plastered on his face.

Your father walked faster to reach the man, clearly excited. You, on the other hand, was dreading this encounter.

“Hope you’re enjoying the party.” Your father shook his hand with the man, before turning to you. “Kang, this is my daughter, Y/N.”

Kang eyed you from head to toe, eyes lingering longer than acceptable on your chest. You fought the urge to roll your eyes, instead, you outstretched your hand for him to shake. “Pleasure to meet you.” Except it wasn’t a pleasure at all.

“I must say, you are a very lucky man. Your daughter is really beautiful.” Kang commented, satisfied with your presence. Then, he pointed at the younger man beside him. “This is Matt, my son.”

Matt nodded his head to acknowledge your presence but surprisingly that was it. You quirked your brow, curious about the turn of event. You thought he would be like his father, watching you like a prize to win, but instead he barely looked at you, his interest completely somewhere else. Curious, you followed his eyes, only to find him looking at Ren. And you recognized that look. Matt was interested in your bodyguard.

‘Oh boy.’

You took advantage of the fact that your father was too busy discussing about business with Kang, to get closer to Matt. You put your hand on his arm and enjoyed how tensed this simple touch got him. He was not enjoying it while you definitely were.

“He’s pretty, isn’t he?” You whispered to Matt, startling him in the process.

“Wha-what?” He quickly cleared his throat, just in case his father would look his way. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Can’t blame you. Ren is pretty.” You completely ignored his attempt at hiding his preferences. You leaned even closer. From outside it looked like the two of you were really getting along, when in reality, you were simply making things clear with him. “But he’s mine.”

He was not. But Matt didn’t need to know that.

“I think, Y/N will make a fine wife.” Kang’s comment brought your attention back on them.

You cringed at his words from inside. Of course, he would make a comment like that, it was expected but still, it disgusted you to no end. It was one thing dealing with your father and his view of the world, or his opinion about women but it was a whole different story dealing with his acolytes.

Your father laughed at his comment. “I’m looking for a good husband. It’s time for her to settle down.”

His words left you speechless. Since when had he been thinking about marriage? Worse yet, why was Kang looking at you like a potential bride? Then it dawned on you that the reason your father wanted so badly to introduce you to Kang wasn’t only to show his pretty daughter. No. He wanted to sell you off.

No. You couldn’t let that happen. Never.

With shaky hands, you looked at Kang and then at your father who with just one glance understood that you were about to go against his orders.

“If you’ll excuse me.” You turned your back on them and walked away as fast as you could, back to the safety of Soojin’s company.

There would be consequences for your disobedience, but right now you couldn’t care less.

“Bad luck?” Soojin handed you a shot of vodka, surprised they would even have it at the party – you emptied it in one go. “That bad huh.”

“Bunch of assholes.” You wanted to punch someone, to relieve your anger, sadly, Ren couldn’t save you from yourself this time, instead, you grabbed another shot and another.

“Are you going to be ok?” Soojin worried, realizing that your behavior would mean trouble for you.

You looked at her, pondering whether you should tell her the truth or not. Scratch that, it was Soojin, of course you could tell her. “I guess I deserve a slap at best.” Soojin winced. “Don’t worry.”

“Hard not to.”

You sighed in defeat and grabbed another shot. “Soojin.” You stared at your shot, your anger completely vanished, only to be replaced with sadness. “I need to find a way to escape and make sure he never finds me.”

“What are you planning to do?”

You wished you knew. You brought your shot to your lips – a shot you never get to finish as you found yourself staring at an unfamiliar face across the room. An extremely handsome face. Black hair, sharp jaw, strong nose, plump lips, pretty, dark eyes. He wore black trousers, black shirt with three undone buttons, rolled sleeves that revealed strong, veiny forearms (which happened to be one of your many weaknesses).

‘Well shit.’ Maybe your night wasn’t a waste of time after all. You stared at him, shamelessly, not minding for a second that he could catch you, in fact, you wanted him to look at you. Why not make this night a little bit more exciting?

It didn’t take him long to notice you and you had to admit that his piercing eyes sent shivers down your spine in both excitement and fear of what could come out of it. He stared at you with just as much intensity, interest and a hint of amusement. He brought his glass to his lips to hide the beginning of a really pretty smile.

“Who’s that?” You asked Soojin because despite hating those parties, she understood this world the best and she knew all the people in this room.

Soojin followed your gaze and paled at the sight of the man. “Oh hell no. Forget about it right now, Y/N.” She spoke quickly, clearly panicking at your sudden interest in the man. She knew, you were reckless, daring, always scheming which always got you in trouble and this time wouldn’t be different if she didn’t try to stop you. “He’s someone you don’t want to mess with. I heard that-“

Too late, you were already walking over.

▾▾▾

He watched your every move, your every step - it made you smile; you had his full attention. You could have walked straight to him and start a conversation but where would the fun be? You stopped by the table near him and his friend, pretending to look for the food and not for them, not for him. You could feel his eyes on you but it didn’t stop him from talking to his friend either.

“Damn, this looks yummy.” His friend commented while eying the food on the table, drooling on the spot.

“I wouldn’t eat that if I were you.” You commented with a chuckle. You pointed at the food that indeed looked good. “Saw few people leaving and throwing their guts up after eating from this table.”

The man jumped, startled, from the table as if it had burned him. His shocked face was quite endearing, you had to admit. But of course, your attention was all on the mysterious man - he smirked, noticing how you couldn’t stop yourself from watching him.

“You should thank your savior, Jisung.”

And he did, without hesitation. Jisung took a step towards you and gently grabbed your hand. “Thank you, my lady.” And with that he planted a soft kiss on your knuckles.

“Y/N is fine.” You laughed at his behavior. You didn’t expect to be called a lady and even less have your hands kissed (on second thought, you were glad it was from someone as lovely as Jisung and not as disgusting as Kang); he didn’t look like an old fashion man. Never judge a book by its cover, you should know that better than anyone.

“Y/N. Lovely. I’m Jisung and the broody friend is Chris.” Feeling bold, he leaned closer to you. “He looks scary but he’s actually a teddy bear.”

Chris sighed at the description. He could always count on his friends to make fun of him in any possible situation and destroy his reputation and probably ruin his chances with any hot woman. He did his best looking menacing, making sure that boring, greedy people just wouldn’t strike up a conversation with him.

“Ok, that’s enough.” He grabbed his friend’s arm and pulled him away from you in case he would try to get even more touchy and daring. “Please ignore him.”

You waved your hand. “I think he’s cute.”

Chris snorted at that. “As cute as he can get.” He outstretched his hand for you to shake. “Pleasure to meet you, Y/N.”

Oh boy, you liked the sound of your name coming out of his mouth. Without hesitation, you shook his hand, smiling widely.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you before.” Chris commented, still holding your hand. You could have pulled away any time, but it felt too nice for you to let go. “I would have remembered.”

You would have remembered him too. How could you not when he was looking so damn good? And more importantly, he felt different from the other people present in the room. You didn’t doubt he was part of this world, but he didn’t have this arrogant, rich aura around him.

“I hate attending these stupid parties.” You admitted and he finally let go of your hand. You almost whined at the loss. Almost.

“Ha!” Jisung scoffed loudly and nudged his friend. “He too hates these parties. I come for the food.”

Soojin would have loved this guy. Your smile softened at his remark. “I-“

“There you are, Y/N.” You got interrupted by Ren. He had his hand on your back, ready to pull you away from the two men. Whenever you were happy about it or not.  

Was it just an impression or the temperature in the room dropped by few degrees? Ren looked incredibly pissed; a vein popped out in his neck as he looked straight at Chris. If looks could kill both Chris and Jisung would be dead.

“You always have a bad timing.” Jisung commented, still smiling, but he didn’t sound that excited anymore.

You didn’t know what to think. They obviously knew each other which meant either Ren had worked for them at one point in his life or they had been enemies for a while. Did it mean they were your father’s enemy? You wondered.

You grabbed Ren’s arm, making sure that he wouldn’t do something stupid. He was always calm, composed, but right now he seemed ready to throw punches and you really didn’t want that.

“You chose the wrong side, Ren.” Chris finally said but his eyes moved to you, understanding dawned on him.

Ren rolled his eyes at his words. “Did I give you the impression that I care about your opinion?”

Before the situation could get out of hands you moved and stood right between Ren and Chris. You glanced at Chris, feeling sorry that you didn’t get a chance to spend more time with him and see where it could lead, before averting your eyes to Ren. “That’s enough. Let’s go?”

▾▾▾

The moment you got back home, you completely ignored Ren, not even sparing him a glance, still upset with how the night had unfolded. He let you leave without a word, knowing there was no point in talking, no point in fighting. He had done his job.

You sat on the floor by the window, watching the stars in silence. Except in your head, it was far from silent, thoughts running wild. You couldn’t stop thinking about Chris, about his interaction with Ren, his realization about who was your father.

“Where’s this wench?!” You heard your father yelling through the house – you winced and wrapped your arms around yourself, to give you strength or maybe in hope to protect yourself.

Just from his yelling alone, you knew he was furious. Best behavior? You forgot all about it and he was ready to make you pay for it. You wished there was something you could do to prevent him from coming to your room, but even if you tried, it would only make things worse for you.

“Dammit.” You cursed

“She’s sleeping.” You heard Ren’s voice right behind your door.

“Move.” Your father ordered but Ren did none of that. “Are you defying me right now?”

“Of course not, Boss.” But he was, you thought to yourself. He was trying to stop your father from getting his hands on you which made your heart ache. You made his life difficult and he still tried to defend you in his own twisted, sometimes, way. “But I think she had her share of emotions for the night.”

You didn’t think Ren could convince your father to spare you, but his words clearly caught his attention as you heard him ask, “What do you mean?”

“Christopher was at the party. She met him.” There was a dead silence, following Ren’s words. You couldn’t, obviously, see your father’s reaction, but whatever it was, Chris’s name made him pause.

“What did he say to her?” Your father finally asked, much calmer now, and yet, you swore there was something in his voice. Could it be panic? It couldn’t be.

“I’m not sure.” Ren admitted, “I don’t think she spent much time in his presence.”

“Good. I don’t need this bastard getting any closer to her.”

You heard him loud and clear. If your father hated Chris so much, then it was your chance to start planning. Maybe Chris was just as bad as your father, maybe he wasn’t, but you knew you needed a way out.

You grabbed your phone and texted Soojin, the only person you could really count on and someone who was really good at looking into someone’s life.

You stared at your phone and thought for a moment. Soojin had a point, even if it pained you to admit it. Even if you managed to get out and reach Chris, you had nothing to give him in exchange for his help. There was nothing you could give him to help him to get rid of your father.

But you soon realized that it wasn’t entirely true. It was still night and you were at your father’s place which meant you could sneak around and try to find valuable information. Was it risky? Hell yes. Did you have a choice? Not really.

With this goal on mind, you left the safety of your room and prayed to whoever wished to listen that you would not get caught.

▾▾▾

Your father’s office was too big for your liking. There were so many places to look through and not enough time. It was the middle of the night, but you couldn’t be hundred percent sure your father wouldn’t come to his office. He was after all a workaholic which meant you had to be quick.

You looked through his papers, trying to find information about his business and especially his illegal activities but there were none which didn’t make sense. Was your father that careful? That paranoid? Or was he just so good at hiding his dirty secrets?

There must be something. You refused to give up so easily. You looked through his drawers but still nothing. It was slowly driving you crazy. But then, when you thought all hope was lost, a frame caught your eyes. It was a picture of your mom and a very young you. You didn’t take your father for a sentimental, not after what he had done to your mom. The official story was she had filed for divorce and left. But you knew better.

You grabbed the frame and stilled for a moment. Your heart ached at the sight of your mom. Ever since her disappearance, you avoided looking at the pictures. Too scared of your feelings, of the pain that would follow. You missed her, so much. Living with both your father and your mom was hard, but mom’s presence had always made things bearable. Whenever your father got violent, she was always there to mend your wounds. She did her best with what she had and you always loved her for that.

“I miss you, mom.” You whispered, fingers trailing over the picture.

Just when you were about to put it back to its place, you felt something brushing your fingers on the back of the frame. “What-“ You turned it around only to find an usb-stick taped on the frame.

“I thought I heard you sneak out.” Ren’s voice startled you, giving you a heart attack.

“Bloody hell, Ren!!” You muffled your yell. “What are you doing here?”

Ren quirked a brow at you. “Shouldn’t I be the one asking this question? Are you out of your mind?”

You quickly hid the frame behind your back, hoping he wouldn’t notice. He did but chose not to comment. Instead, he stayed by the door, fists clenched.

The tension was thick between the two of you. You, still upset about his behavior earlier at the party. Him, upset with you sneaking around and looking for more trouble. He managed, by some miracle, to stop your father from punishing you, but should you be caught tonight, there was nothing he would be able to do to protect you. And it pained him, more than you could know.

“Whatever you’re planning. Don’t.”

Of course, he would say something like that. You kept your lips sealed in fear of revealing too much and risking your plan.

“You know there’s nothing you can do.”

But you could, he just hadn’t realized it yet.

“Y/N,” Ren took a step toward you but stilled. He shook his head and held back. “He will ask me to bring you back.” And here you had thought, he didn’t know about your plan. “And you know I will come for you. I always will.”

If only he could disregard his loyalty to your father, his words would have been so much more meaningful. Still, your treacherous heart fluttered at his voice.

“I really don’t want to hurt you.” He admitted, “Not again.”

With that, Ren left.

▾▾▾

Escaping your house was never the hardest part in your different plans. Sometimes, because it amused your father, sometimes because he didn’t care until he needed you. Today was no exception. You walked out of the house without trouble. No Ren on sight which did worry you for a moment but in the end, it was for the better. You couldn’t imagine yourself dealing with him right now, because he would know what you were up to.

Soojin didn’t disappoint you. Two days, it was the time it took her to gather all the information she could on Chris. About his business, about his life - it was impressive. He was a very powerful man without big scandals which, in your opinion, was remarkable. Soojin tried to dig as much as she could, wanting to find dirt on him and prove to you that getting involved with him was a very bad idea. She found nothing. Either the stories about him were just some baseless rumors or he was really good at concealing the truth. Honestly? You didn’t care. He was your only hope and you were willing to make a deal with the devil if it meant freedom.

That was how you found yourself walking straight to his company’s headquarters. You weren’t invited, had no meetings planned but you were a confident, strong woman who knew how to behave to get what you wanted.

For the past twenty-four hours, you went through different scenarios, wanting to be as ready as you could be once facing the different obstacles. However, once you got to the reception, you were met with a sight you had not counted on at all. Jisung was leaning against the counter, chatting happily with a pretty brunette, clearly flirting. The sight of the man brought a small smile on your face. Maybe you had all the chances to get what you wanted.

“Hey Jisung!” You called after him, walking slowly towards him.

“Y/N!” He almost squealed at the sight of you.

After spending so much time with fake people, you could tell when someone was pretending, Jisung, however, seemed genuinely happy seeing you.

He surprised you once more by hugging you tightly as if you had been friends for years. You wouldn’t have minded. “What are you doing here?”

“To see Chris.”

If he was surprised, he didn’t show it. Jisung looked over his shoulder, at the brunette and smiled. “I’ll take her to see the boss.”

“But-“ She was ready to protest. You couldn’t tell whether Jisung worked here or if they were just used to see him because he was Chris’s friend but clearly, he was going against the rules.

“It’s okay, don’t worry!” He reassured her by being a sunshine. He was really charming.

He showed you the way to the lift. Only when the doors were fully closed, he looked back at you. “He’s not expecting you, is he?”

“Of course not.” You smirked proudly

Jisung laughed loudly, clapping his hands in delight. “Oh you’re such a naughty little thing. I like you.”

▾▾▾

“Okay, so we might need to wait a little. I think he’s not done with the meeting.” Jisung said as he pointed at a huge wooden door that apparently led to Chris’s office.

The reasonable thing to do would be to listen to Jisung and wait patiently for your turn. But were you a patient woman? Sometimes, yes. Most of the time, no. And right now, you just couldn’t wait. You wanted to see the man and hopefully make a deal with him.

You glanced at Jisung, feeling almost sorry for him - he would get in trouble for bringing you here, you guessed. “Sorry, Jisung.”

“Sorry? For wha-“ He couldn’t finish his sentence as he saw you walking to the door. He realized too late what were your intentions. He palmed his face in despair, he was about to get his ass whooped, for sure.

You barged inside the office while your confidence hadn’t worn off. You eyed the room, noticing that there were at least ten people in the room, looking all positively shocked with your rude (according to them, you bet) interruption. You quickly disregarded their confused-angry-appalled look and averted your eyes to the man you were dying to see. He looked just as handsome as in your memory, if not better, wearing a suit. His aura was still as impressive, screaming power and strength.

A tiny part of you squirmed under his glare, but just a tiny part.

If Chris was surprised seeing you, he didn’t show it. He glanced over your shoulder, giving a stern glance at the poor Jisung (you really felt bad for involving him) before his eyes were back on you.

You stared at each other for a moment, ignoring the world surrounding you. You weren’t particularly fond of the attention but right now it seemed like a little to price to pay to have Chris’s eyes on you.

“Leave us.” Chris ordered, dismissing his people without even sparing a glance.

They all hurried to get out of the room as if sensing things could get out of control real quick. Was it because of your presence? Or was it also because of Jisung? You wondered.

“I tried to stop her!” You heard Jisung saying behind you, whining.

“I’ll deal with you later.” Chris replied with a roll of his eyes. “Leave us and don’t eavesdrop.”

Jisung muttered under his nose but did as he was told.

“He really tried.” You tried to defend him.

Chris, to your surprise, chuckled. “No, he didn’t.”

‘Thank god, he’s not angry.’ You told yourself, a tad relieved.

“Don’t get me wrong, Y/N, it’s a pleasure seeing you again so soon. But, what are you doing here?”

“Interrupting your meeting?” You played coy.

Chris ignored your attempt, seeing right through you. “Does your father know you’re here?”

You checked the time on your watch. “Well, by now, he might know I escaped. Again.”

Chris looked both impressed and pleased with your answer. Obviously, he knew nothing about you except for the fact that you were his enemy’s daughter.

“Why would you escape? He’s your family.” He asked, genuinely curious.

You scoffed. How could he say that? Didn’t he know what kind of man your father was? No, he was testing you.

“Please. You don’t strike me as a fool. I’m sure you know what kind of man, my father is. You know his worth.”

Chris stayed quiet for a moment, observing you. It was nerve wrecking. “Why are you here, Y/N?”

He tapped his fingers on the table, waiting for you to explain yourself.

It was now or never, you knew it, he knew it and yet no words left your mouth. It wasn’t like you to lose your composure but maybe your nerves were finally at their limits or maybe you were losing your shit because of importance of what you had to ask of him.

You dismissed your thoughts and your fear, you could do it. You walked towards him, hoping you looked confident and convincing enough. You sat on the edge of his desk and crossed your legs, getting comfortable.

Slowly, Chris’s gaze lowered to your exposed legs. Really, how could he resist when it was so nicely presented to him. After all, he was just a man. A powerful man, but still a man. You weren’t trying to seduce him, not yet, but if it helped your case then, why the hell not.

“I need your help.” You admitted. “I don’t know what’s kind of relationship you have with my father, but I believe you’re the only one who can help me to get free.”

Chris, from the moment you walked inside his office, guessed your visit had something to do with your father. In fact, he was convinced he was the one sending you as an offering, it would definitely be his style. A nice offering, he would admit; you were a pretty woman, with bright eyes, pretty plump lips and amazing curves that did not go unnoticed by Chris.

But this? This, he did not see it coming.

Chris stood up, towering over you easily. He put his hands on each side of your body, trapping you as he leaned closer. His proximity was overwhelming but you refused to budge. You let him study your face, looking for any signs of lies. He found none.

“You’re really serious about this.” It wasn’t a question but you nodded either way.

He let go of you and took a step back. “Let’s say I agree to help you. What makes you think you’ll be free? Do you expect me to help you out of good will?” He raked his fingers through his hair. “I’m not a good man, Y/N.”

“Maybe you aren’t, but are you worse than my father?” You asked, genuinely curious. He could of course lie to you, but you had the impression that he was rather trying to paint a bad image of himself in order to make you fear him.

“Depends on whom you ask.”

You jumped from the desk and got closer to him. As you watched him, you came to realization that there was no way he could be worse than your father, just because he was trying to look like a villain.

“Let me ask you this, then.” You grabbed his hand and you had to resist the urge to look at it because hell it felt nice. Chris’s frown, on the other hand, deepened as he looked at your hand. “Let’s pretend for a second that I’m your girl and because I’m a brat, I decide to disobey you. Would you lock me up?”

“What?” His eyes snapped back to your face, clearly taken aback.

“You heard me.”

Chris should have been surprised with your words but sadly, he wasn’t. Your questions showed only what you went through and he expected nothing less from a man like your father. An insect who believed he could rule the world and treat people like shit.

“No, I wouldn’t.”

You let go of his hand took few steps back. “See, you’re already better than him.

Chris closed his eyes for a moment and took a deep breath. “Give me time to think this over.”

You wished you could. You let go of his arm and smiled sadly. “Sadly, time is the only thing I don’t have.”

▾▾▾

Instead of sending you home, Chris asked Jisung to take you for a coffee. It gave you hope, maybe he wasn’t about to refuse to help you after all. You accepted without much protest and Jisung was too happy to oblige.

“Sorry for putting you into a bad position.” You apologized as Jisung put the cup of coffee before you.

“Don’t worry. I’m sure Chris was happy with the interruption. He’s not fond of those meetings.” Jisung was way too nice which made you think that angering this man wouldn’t be easy. Not like you were planning to. “By the way, why are you here?”

You could have come up with a lie, easily, but something about Jisung made you trust him instantly. Maybe because he was so likable or maybe because Chris trusted him. Probably both. “I need his help to escape from my father.” 

Jisung chocked on his coffee, coughing strongly, hitting his chest to recover. Someone was not expecting this kind of answer from you.

“I knew there was a reason I liked you right away.” Jisung laughed, clapping his hands.

“I know, I’m charming like that.” You flipped your hair playfully. “I just hope he’ll accept.”

Jisung hummed, pondering on the question. He knew his friend well enough to guess that Chris would avoid useless conflicts if he could, however this time he wasn’t so sure. Chris wasn’t fond of your father, far from it even, there was a high possibility that he wouldn’t mind messing with him. Jisung would gladly help too.

“I don’t think he’ll say no. You’re offering him an opportunity to mess with your father. I bet he’s tempted.”

Whether Jisung was sincere or not, his words gave you hope. But not for long. Your attention went from Jisung to the man walking through the doors. You tensed, gasping in surprise. You thought you had more time before your father or his men would realize that you hadn’t left for shopping or for a walk. Worse yet, you expected to see Ren. But no, John was the one who walked through the door, his eyes finding you right away.

Your change of mood didn’t go unnoticed. “What’s wrong?”

He had his answer before you could even think about it. Without invitation, without even caring about checking his surroundings because he was just that arrogant and confident, John sat at your table, looking relaxed and unbothered, clearly Jisung’s presence meant nothing to him. Or maybe he didn’t look enough to recognize a threat when faced with one. His mistake.

“You’re getting sloppy, Y/N.” John commented, taping his fingers on the table. “You know why I’m here.”

To say that you were a tad worried would be an understatement. You had to think quickly, to find a way out without getting hurt and without bringing even more trouble to Jisung.

“Yeah.” You sighed, annoyed with the turn of the event. “And you know I won’t come with you.”

“And you know I’ll make you. You can either make it easy for both of us or-“

Jisung, bless the man, chuckled at the interaction. Apparently, John wasn’t the only unbothered one in the room. “And I think, you completely forgot where you are.”

Jisung’s whole demeanor changed from cheerful to dead cold - you shivered in response. What a whiplash. Here you thought he was a sweet and odd person by Chris’s side. You should have known better. He wasn’t just a friend. No, he was much more and you should have noticed it sooner.

John seemed to finally notice the man sitting beside him and for the first time you saw a glimpse of fear and recognition in his eyes.

‘Who’s getting sloppy huh.’ You thought, repressing a chuckle.

“You-“ John stuttered, recognizing the man by his side. He slid his hand in his jacket, trying to reach for his gun.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.” Because Jisung was much faster. He was half turned and was pointing his gun under the table.

John hesitated, eyes darting back and forth between you and Jisung. You had to admit that you were feeling particularly confident just because of the way Jisung behaved - seeing John squirming under his gaze was worth the risk.

“I would advise, you go back to your boss without causing any more trouble.”

“She has to come back with me.” John groaned. Obviously, he didn’t want to cause ruckus in the middle of a cafe and deal with Jisung, but coming back without you would make his life much more difficult.

“Nope.” Jisung pointed at you, “The pretty girl stays with me.”

What a flirt.

You blew him a kiss.

▾▾▾

It was extremely satisfying to watch John leave empty handed. You felt more relaxed and confident - you had made the right choice to come to Chris. Now, all you needed was for him to accept the deal.

Jisung brought you back to Chris’s office once sure John wouldn’t follow you and attempt anything reckless.

He didn’t.

“You’re out of your mind! Please stop thinking with your dick and think with your brain!” A loud and angry voice echoed from the half-opened door of Chris’s office.

Jisung stopped you right away by gently grabbing your arm and pulling you against his chest. He sighed, clearly recognizing the voice.

“You always have stupid ideas. She’s a brat. Worse yet, she’s his daughter! Why the hell would you bother with her?”

Jisung shook his head in disapproval before looking apologetically at you. “Sorry.”

You raised your hand to stop him from apologizing. He hadn’t done anything wrong and whoever was behind those words obviously knew nothing about you.

You winked playfully before storming inside like you owned the place, wanting to face the two men. Chris only quirked a brow at your presence while the other man’s frown only deepened at the sight of you. If looks could kill you would be dead. But instead of being intimidated (you definitely were), you chose to play it cool - you smiled sweetly at them.

“Y/N, this is Minho, a friend.” Chris introduced the angry man.

Just to spite him some more, you waved your hand cheerfully. “Hi, Minho.” Of course, he didn’t return the greeting but you didn’t mind. His opinion meant nothing to you.

Chris shook his head at your behavior, half amused half desperate. “Leave us, guys.”

“It’s a bad idea.” Minho muttered, not bothering hiding his displeasure.

“Come on.” Jisung almost pounced at Minho, wrapping an arm around his shoulders. “They have to talk; we have no business in there.”

Minho had little choice but to follow Jisung judging by how strong his grip around him was. On his way out, Jisung winked at you, encouraging you. Yet, before leaving, he looked over his shoulder, at Chris. “Just so you know, they tried to get her back.” And with that he left the two of you alone, making sure to close the door behind them.

You realized that Jisung’s presence was comforting. Now, that you were standing alone with Chris, you were scared. Not of him, obviously, but about his decision. “So. What’s your answer?”

Chris watched you like a hawk for a moment which, despite your effort, unnerved you. He took slow steps towards you, hands in his pockets, looking as nonchalant as possible, stopping mere inches from you. You couldn’t ignore the warmth radiating from his body, his scent invading your senses – it would be so easy to get lost in him.

“I’ll take you to my place for the timing being.” He finally said

His answer should have made you happy, but it didn’t. “Another cage?”

Chris shook his head. “What you’re asking of me isn’t that easy. I need you to stay discrete for a while. Once Rick understands that I’m not giving you back, he’ll do something stupid.”

Sadly, you couldn’t refute it. You didn’t know to what extent your father would go in order to get you back and you didn’t really want to imagine it either.

“Maybe he’ll ask his dog to bring you back.”

“John? Already tried and failed thanks to Jisung.”

Chris shook his head and laughed. “Oh no, I wasn’t talking about John. Ren.”

You felt a flash of irritation at his words. Ren was someone you deeply cared for, even if he was your father’s man. Even if he had made the wrong choices. “Don’t talk about him like that.” For a short second you forgot you were supposed to be nice, to stay on his good side, but the moment he insulted your friend, you lost it.

Chris was half surprised with your sudden hostility. From what he saw at the party, the two of you were close but he didn’t imagine to this extent. “Is he your lover? Really?”

“He’s my friend.”

“Oh Y/N. I doubt it. But fine. I apologize for my poor choice of words.”

Scared your voice would betray your annoyance, you simply nodded your head. You couldn’t really pick a fight with Chris, not when you needed his help. Which reminded you; he still didn’t mention the price for his help.

“Chris, what do you want in exchange for your help?”

“I’ll come up with something.” Was all he said.

It should have terrified you. What if in the end he would ask something impossible to give? What if it was something that could make your life worse? Did you have any choice? Not really.

▾▾▾

Chris’s place was huge, not like you expected anything less from this man. Everything inside was either black or white which gave a rather classy atmosphere to the place. And the view – you would die to have such a view. Huge bay windows that led to a giant balcony, giving a perfect view on the town.

“Wah!” You squealed at the view, unable to refrain yourself from running to the window to admire the sight. It was dark outside but the city’s lights gave an almost eerie atmosphere that captivated you.

“Here,” Chris approached you, “You can have my t-shirt to sleep in. I’ll get you clothes and everything you need tomorrow.”

You glanced over your shoulder and smiled. “Thank you.” You weren’t only thanking him for the clothes. No, you were thanking him for everything he was doing for you. Technically, you were a stranger to him, he had no obligations towards you and yet, there you were.

Slowly, you returned your attention to the town. You wrapped your arms around yourself, comforting yourself. You were free. You did it.

“You’re ok?” Chris worried. You might be his enemy’s daughter, but you were also a human with deep wounds – he saw them, even if you tried to hide behind your smiles and confidence.

“Yeah. Feels weird to be free.” You admitted and chuckled at your silliness. “Well, almost free.” You turned, this time, to fully face him. In this dim light he looked even more handsome which shouldn’t be allowed. “Why did you really agree on helping me?”

Chris took another step towards you, hesitated before touching your cheek. His soft touch took you off guard but it was also comforting - you leaned into his touch, welcoming it.

“Let’s say, I have a soft spot for damsels in distress.”

Living with Chris promised to be an interesting experience.

▾▾▾

The very next day, just like Chris had promised, he had, everything you needed, delivered to you. You supposed he would be the one bringing it to you but no, half awake, you were met with a very loud, cheerful and now familiar voice.

“Special delivery!” Jisung yelled through the whole place just to make sure you would hear him and be aware of his presence.

Impossible to miss.

When you joined Jisung in the main room, he surprised you with tons of bags on the floor waiting for you. You halted, eyeing all the bags suspiciously. “Are these all for me?”

“Yep.” Jisung confirmed, “I picked everything myself!”

“Should I worry?” He looked way too excited and smug about it. Something was fishy. Had to.

“Probably.” He didn’t even try to deny, smirking. He plopped on the couch, acting as if this place was actually his (and maybe in a way it was seeing how close he and Chris were). “Check it.”

As you approached the bag, you kept your eyes on Jisung. “You look too excited for my liking. What did you do?”

Jisung gasped, feigning being hurt as he put his hand over his chest. “How can you doubt me like that?”

“Call it a hunch.”

Despite his smug expression, the first two bags were rather innocent; dresses, jeans, all kind of clothes. Too many clothes in your opinion. Another bag was filled with skincare and different brands of makeup – you glanced at Jisung wondering how he guessed what you needed and what you liked but he only shrugged in response. Either he had done some serious research on you or he was just good like that.

The fourth bag was the one that made you pause, pull the item from it and then groan. Red, lacy lingerie. Definitely your style, definitely sexy, but absolutely unnecessary. “What the hell, Jisung?”

“What? It’s hot!” He pointed at the lingerie, excited. “This will look good on you!”

“Yeah, but why the hell would I need it?”

“To seduce.”

“Who? You?”

Jisung actually laughed at that. “Me? Consider me already seduced.”

You shook your head, chuckling at his joke but really, you wouldn’t mind wearing this piece of clothes for Chris. You slapped yourself mentally for the thought. There was definitely something wrong with you.

“Hey Ji, thank you.”

▾▾▾

Despite spending most of your life in a rich household, it didn’t prevent you from developing some useful skills such as cooking. For some it was a sign you were a good wife-to-be, for others it was a waste of time. For you? It was a hobby you truly enjoyed.

There wasn’t much you could do to thank Chris for everything he was doing for you, but cooking a nice meal for the two of you seemed like a good plan. A part of you did it to thank him, but it was also a way for you to distract yourself from annoying thoughts. And boredom.

Music in your ears, a glass of wine in your hand, you danced and sang while cooking, wearing one of Chris’s shirts. You could have changed into your new clothes, but really, his clothes were just much more comfortable.

You were moving to the rhythm of the music, swinging your hips, bobbing your head– you hadn’t felt this good in years.  Completely in your own little world, you weren’t paying attention to your surroundings, you hadn’t noticed the moment Chris got back. Until it was too late.

The moment you turned around and saw him leaning against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest, looking amazing, smiling at you – you froze. You took your headphones off your head and smiled sheepishly at him. “Hi?”

“You know, I can get used to that.” Chris admitted, clear fondness in his voice.

Even if Chris had accepted to help you and brought you to live with him, he had absolutely no clue how the cohabitation would work. He didn’t know you. But the sight of you, so comfortable, so relaxed and so lively – he found it endearing. You were nothing like your father and far from a brat.

Instead of feeling embarrassed, you felt even more at ease. There was something with Chris that made you feel safe, comforted, in fact, it felt like you were long lost friends, despite being strangers.

Chris eyed your outfit for a moment, eyes lingering longer than necessary on your exposed legs. “I thought Jisung brought you clothes.” He pushed himself from the wall and walked slowly towards you. Despite the pretty smile still on his face, there was a predatory glimpse in his eyes that caused your heart to flutter. The traitor.

“He did.” You answered as you watched him getting closer to you.

He stopped right before you. There was nowhere for you to run, to hide; you were half trapped between the counter and a smiling Chris. “And?”

“Your shirt is more comfortable.” You joked, “Moreover, trust me, you don’t want me wearing the clothes he brought.” That was a half lie. Yes, Jisung had brought you tons of sexy outfits that were useless since you would be staying at Chris’s place most of the time, but there were also normal, casual clothes.

Chris arched a brow, clearly amused with your explanation and not that surprised either knowing his friend. “Why?”

Feeling particularly bold tonight, you smirked and pushed him gently off your way. “Wouldn’t want you to fall in love with me.”

Chris burst into laughter; his laugh was like music to your ears. Maybe you were the one in danger after all.

“Want a glass of wine?”

“With pleasure.”

▾▾▾

Chris surprised you once more by leaving one morning a phone for you with a note.

“I figured you might need it. Add whoever you need, but be careful.”

There wasn’t much in it except for his, Jisung and Minho’s number. Just in case. You perfectly understood why he saved Jisung’s number – in a matter of days, this man had become your favorite person. Minho’s number, on the other hand, was not needed. You could have deleted his number right away, but reasoned yourself; Chris had added his number for a reason, you couldn’t get rid of it like that.

You plopped on the couch, legs under your butt, you stared at your phone. You wanted so badly to add Soojin’s number, number that you had memorized long ago, and talk to her. You wanted her to know that you had escaped and that you were safe, but you couldn’t do it. Not that you didn’t trust your friend, no; your father knew about your relationship with her which put her in danger and risked your freedom.

Ren’s face crossed your mind. His number too, you knew by heart. A tiny part of you worried for him. Did his father get rid of him because he had failed? Did John blamed him for not being able to get you back? There was no way for you to know without exposing yourself.

With a long and tired sigh, you threw your head back. You closed your eyes for a moment and thought about what you should do. There wasn’t much you could do despite having Chris’s whole place for you, you were getting bored.

Since there was nothing to do and your thoughts were getting too much for you, you grabbed your phone and decided to text Chris.

You sighed again, disappointed with his response. You understood perfectly that he was a busy man and he didn’t have time to always entertain you, but you couldn’t stop yourself from hoping he would spend some time with you.

‘Oh well.’

▾▾▾

The next morning, you were woken up by noises coming from the kitchen. it took you a moment to realize, in surprise, that you were back in your bed while you remembered clearly falling asleep on the couch while watching a movie. You stared at your blanket; did Chris carry you to your bed? This simple thought brought a tiny smile to your face.

Eagerly, you jumped out of your bed and walked out of your room. You followed the delicious smell of pancakes – your stomach grumbled in response.

You had to admit that it was a rather odd sight: Chris in the kitchen. Seeing this big, powerful and dangerous (according to rumors) man preparing breakfast, was both amusing and charming. Chris had prepared everything; pancakes, coffee, juice, fruits – it was everything you liked and everything you needed.

“Morning.” As you watched him setting the table, you thought about his remark when he saw you cooking. You had to agree, you could get used to it too.

“Good morning. Hope you like pancakes.”

“Love it.” And even if you didn’t, you would have said the same thing because he did it for you. How could you complain?

“Did you steal another of my shirt?” Chris watched you, sipping his coffee in peace.

“Me? No!” That was obviously a lie, as if Chris wouldn’t recognize his own clothes, but you felt in rather playful mood. He arched a brow at your blatant lie. “Fine! I did. So what? Sue me!”

Chris put his cup back on the table and got closer to you. Your eyes locked, he played with the edge of the shirt that was barely hiding your body since you were sitting.

“Or I can just take it off.” He suggested

You opened your mouth ready for another snarky remark but nothing came out of your mouth. He let go of the shirt, only to put his hands on your thighs. His hands felt warm against your skin, nevertheless you shivered.

“You’re a tempting little thing.” Chris admitted

“Look who’s talking.” Your voice came out shaky, betraying your state of mind. You wanted to blame your needs but really it was all because of Chris.

You sincerely thought Chris would kiss you, in fact, you prayed he would. Sadly for you, he pulled back, shook his head as if to convince himself that it was a bad idea. It was probably a bad idea but you found yourself not caring much about it.

“I’ll see you tonight.”

▾▾▾

▾▾▾

Despite your impressive (according to Chris) cooking skills, you were human which meant that from time to time you craved some junk food. Luckily for you, you had a new phone (bless Chris for that) which helped you to order some crispy chicken and fries.

You put everything on a plate and brought it to the couch where you had prepared your little nestle (which meant tons of pillows and a huge fluffy blanket that surprisingly you found in Chris’s room). You looked at your work proudly, satisfied with the outcome, before finally plopping on the couch.

For a moment, you scrolled through a very long selection of movies, trying to figure out what was your mood for the night. You glanced to the side, through the windows; it was already late and dark outside, rain pouring. You switched the light off, welcoming the darkness.

A good horror movie sounded perfect. You went for Conjuring 2; no matter how many times you had watched this movie, it still gave you the creeps and you loved it.

Completely immersed in the movie you didn’t notice Chris’s presence, not like it was the first time either. Except this time, the moment he switched the light on, you screamed, almost throwing the plate from your laps.

“Bloody hell!” You put your hand over your chest, your heart ready to jump out of it.

“Hi?” He said half sorry half trying to hold back his laugh.

“I think, I won’t survive living with you.”

“Don’t be so dramatic.”

You stuck your tongue in response. Yes, very adult of you.

Chris shook his head, smiling fondly at your antics. “Mind if I join you after a shower?”

“Sure. There’s some chicken left. Fries, not so much, sorry.”

“Chicken it is then.”

But by the time Chris came back you managed to prepare some additional dishes to satisfy his hunger. He came back wearing black sweat pants and a white t-shirt. His hair still completely wet, in fact some water was still dripping from his head to his neck, attracted your attention to the point you forgot all about the movie. Nobody should be allowed to look that good in sweatpants, but we were talking about Chris, he made everything look good on him.

You sighed to yourself and pulled the blanket closer to your face, wishing it could swallow you whole, wishing to hide the unbearable attraction. You didn’t know how long you could keep this up. The two of you kept flirting, there was no other way to describe your banter, your closeness.

Chris took his place beside you and the moment his eyes landed on the TV; he regretted his decision. He slowly turned his head to you, ready to give any valid or not excuse if it could save him from a horror movie.

“Why are you hiding?” He asked surprised that you would be hiding when you were the one to choose the movie. “Is it that scary?”

You lowered the blanket for a short moment, revealing only half of your face – you regretted it instantly. Nope, he still looked too good and you still wanted to grab his face and kiss him.

“I-No. I mean-“ You cursed yourself for sounding so unsure. You cleared your throat and removed the blanket from you. “It’s scary but no, I’m not hiding because of the movie.”

Chris tilted his head, curious. “No? Then why?”

There was no escape from the truth. You jumped from the couch and pointed an angry finger at him. “Because of you!” Still very adult of you. You cursed yourself for losing your composure whenever this man was around and so close to you.

“Me?”

“Yes you. You’re making things extremely difficult for me!” And hot, but you refrained from saying it.

Chris had to muffle his laugh but did a poor job at it which obviously made you only angrier.

“Are you laughing at me, right now?”

“Sorry.” He really couldn’t hold it as he burst into laughter.

You grabbed the closest pillow and hit him with it, once, twice, until Chris grabbed your arm and pulled you too hard – you fell right onto his laps. With a pretty smile on his face, he wrapped his arms tightly around you, not letting you any chance to escape from his grip. Not like you wanted anyway.

“I’m sorry, you’re just too cute.” He apologized, “As for me being a problem-“

You cut him right before he could finish his thought. “Are you trying to seduce me?”

“Wha-“ He stopped, cleared his throat and then looked more seriously (or not) at you. “Is it working?”

Just like that you completely relaxed in his arms and laughed. “Does it work? I’m that close to a mental breakdown because of you!”

▾▾▾

The day you asked Chris for help, you knew it wouldn’t be easy, not for him and not for you. Bringing down your father wouldn’t be that simple, no matter how powerful and resourceful Chris was. And yet, you hoped. But days turned into weeks and slowly you were losing your mind. Even when you lived with your father, you still could go out, meet with Soojin and have some fun, but living with Chris wasn’t all that thrilling.

Yes, you enjoyed the few moments you had together (you did more than enjoyed) but half of the time you were left alone in this huge flat and you were getting bored. Really bored. You needed fresh air, you needed to meet people. Even if it meant putting yourself in danger.

Against your better judgment, you decided enough was enough – you left the safety of Chris’s place.

There wasn’t a place you particularly wanted to visit, or something you wanted to do. No, just being outside, hearing the usually annoying noises of the city was enough to make you feel alive and free.

As you walked down the street, you let a sigh of pure satisfaction out. The weather was lovely; a vivid blue sky, a soft breeze, it was perfect. You could say it was one of those perfect days.

Your spirits brightened, nothing and nobody could stop you from enjoying your little trip in town, by yourself, with your father’s money. Obviously, you knew that spending his money would warn him about your whereabouts but it didn’t really matter considering he already knew you were involved with Chris. So, why not have some fun?

▾▾▾

You went from one store to another, buying yourself clothes you absolutely didn’t need, clothes that costed more than it should be allowed to. But did you care? Absolutely not. Was it worth it? Definitely.

Your moment of fun, however, was interrupted by a phone call you were waiting for. There was no way Chris would have left you alone at his place without thinking that one day or another you would be tired of waiting – he expected you to leave and he needed to make sure he could track you.

“Please tell me you’re not that dumb.” Came his voice, harsh and dark and filled with anger.

You bet anybody would cower in fear before him just at the sound of his voice. You? You were feeling a bit rebellious and daring. “Hello to you too, darling. I’m fine and you?”

“The fuck do you think you’re doing, Y/N?” Chris growled, unable to hold back.

“I’m doing some very deserved shopping, why?”

Chris chose not to answer to that, he was simmering with anger and a bit of worry (but he wouldn’t admit it out loud). “You’re not making it easy for me.”

“Do you want me to apologize for that?” You realized that to him, you probably sounded ungrateful and maybe like a brat.

“I want you to go back to my place.”

“I can’t. Not yet.”

“Y/N, please.”

“Listen, give me at least one more hour. I need it.” Compromising seemed like the best option. You weren’t ready to go back to his place yet and he clearly wouldn’t leave you alone.

“No. Get back.”

“No? Come on, Chris. Just one hour!”

Chris completely ignored your plea. “Where are you?”

Your irritation flared. How dare he be so unreasonable? Why couldn’t he understand your feelings? “None of your business.”

“Oh Y/N, you are my damn business. I agreed to help you and right now you’re making things extremely difficult.”

It appeared that both you and Chris had one (annoying) thing in common: you were both extremely stubborn. You didn’t know to what length he would go to get you back, but it also meant he didn’t know how unreasonable you could actually get.

“Tell me where you are, I’m sending Jisung.”

“Nope.” With that you hung up on him.

▾▾▾

If Chris would have accepted your terms, you would have complied. You would have gone back after one more hour outside. Instead, you found yourself walking some more, grabbing some snacks on your way before deciding that having an ice-coffee would be actually nice.

You waited for your order, watching as the pretty brunette prepared it for you.

“Here you go.” She handed you your drink with a smile.

You grabbed your drink, turned around, ready to leave – your face turned pale. When Chris told you he would send Jisung, you knew he would do it with or without your consent, whether you told him where you were or not. But apparently, since you weren’t playing by his rules, he decided that sending Minho, the man who seemed to hate your guts, was the most appropriated choice. The best punishment.

Your body went cold with dread as you stared at a very unpleased man. He had his hands in his pockets, looking almost relaxed but you swore his eyes were burning with anger and probably some hatred too.

Running away was tempting but would do you no good. There was a reason Chris had sent Minho – you bet he was good at what he did which meant you had no chance at escaping him. Trying to win him over with your natural charms would have been nice, but sadly Minho wanted nothing to do with you.

You decided that being yourself was the only thing you could do which probably would annoy him too. “Hello Minho. Why so grumpy?”

Minho considered for a moment that knocking you down would resolve all his problems, but sadly it would make Chris incredibly pissed too and dealing with a pissed Chris was not on his to-do list. “Why? Maybe, because I had to go looking for a spoiled little girl who decided to throw a tantrum?”

A vein popped out in your neck at the mention of ‘spoiled little girl’, he sure knew how to push your buttons, but you refused to show him how much his comment actually affected you. You refused to let him win. Rather than showing your true emotions, you simply took a sip of your drink, looking as unbothered as you could muster. “How rude. What a bitch.”

“You do realize that I’m getting you back?”

“No, you’re not.” He obviously was, you weren’t naïve to believe you could avoid him.

Minho tried to still his rage but you were making it hard. He couldn’t wrap his head around the fact that Chris could take so much risks just for the sake of one woman. A woman who was their enemy. Minho just couldn’t accept that easily that you were so willing to give up on your life.

Sadly for him, it didn’t matter what he wanted or what he thought. He had a job. A damn hard job. There was no way he could bring you back home without a fight, without attracting any more unwanted attention on you two.

“I’m bringing you back whether you like it or not. We can do this the hard way or the easy way. Choose.”

Daring, you took a step closer, looking straight into his eyes.

“Do your worst, pretty boy.” You smirked as you almost purred your words.

What a mistake. Big, big mistake.

You realized a little too late how serious Minho was about doing it the hard way. With a swift move, he had you thrown over his shoulder, making you shriek and drop your drink.

“Minho! Put me down!” You hit his back in hope he would drop you down but he didn’t budge. “Minho!”

“Shut up.” With that he slapped your ass for good measure which clearly did it work: you stopped talking and fighting.

Boy, you were in trouble.

▾▾▾

Minho was the worst company you could ever dream of. The moment he got you back to Chris’s place, he dropped you right on your bed, gave you a death glare, promising you a slow death if you dared to move, and left you alone. You regretted for a short moment not agreeing to Chris’s demand in the first place because clearly dealing with Jisung would have been more pleasant than dealing with a very grumpy and upset Minho.

But was Minho really the one you should be scared of? Probably not. You dreaded the moment you would have to face Chris. You weren’t completely scared but you didn’t want him to be upset with you, you wanted him to understand your point of view and how you felt.

After one hour of sulking in your room, your stomach grumbled, reminding you that despite all the excitement of this afternoon, you didn’t get yourself a proper meal. You left your room, convinced that Minho had left. Another mistake on your part.

The moment you got in the kitchen, you realized how little you knew about Minho. Yes, he was frowning and throwing daggers at you every single time. Yes, he looked like he would murder you in your sleep. And yet, despite being deeply annoyed with your attitude, you found him in the kitchen, cooking and looking like he fully belonged to the place. What an odd thing to witness, you told yourself.

Apparently, one of Minho’s talents was to have eyes behind his head. You did your best not to make any sound and yet he somehow knew you were lurking. “Done with sulking?”

“I- I wasn’t sulking!” You definitely were.

Minho ignored your blatant lie and glanced over his shoulder. “Take a seat. I bet you’re hungry.”

You were, a lot and you should be grateful that he cooked for you, but the need to fight him was just too strong. “Are you going to poison me?”

Minho actually paused. You were clearly joking but you weren’t far from the truth. “Don’t be ridiculous. I wouldn’t waste my precious poison on you. Not yet at least.”

“Noted. Understood. Please, don’t kill me.”

He chuckled. “I’ll think about it.”

The end was nearing, it had to be. Here you were joking with Minho, the person who hated your guts and the person you wanted to avoid at all cost for the sake of your sanity. You expected him to be mean to you, to snap at you, but no, he took you completely off guard by being nice. There was definitely something wrong.

“Should I worry that you’re being nice to me?” You asked, unable to refrain yourself.

Minho didn’t answer right away. He put a plate with food before you and then sat across from you, eying you. “Let’s say that cooking is a way for me to calm down.” Minho contemplated the idea of being honest with you. His opinion of you didn’t change, but while cooking he pondered about your little escapade. He put himself in your shoes and realized that he would have lost his mind too if he had to stay alone for so long. “I understand why you left. I would have done the same.”

That was pleasantly unexpected. “Thank you, I guess.”

“However, you should worry about Chris. He doesn’t get angry easily but when he does,” Minho looked at you, feeling sorry which worried you a little. “Let’s say I don’t want to witness it.”

You rubbed your temples trying to sooth the beginning of a headache. Minho’s warning about Chris didn’t come out as a surprise, from the time you had spent together, you had an insight into his personality. Did it scare you? Not really, but it did worry you. You wanted to avoid a fight with him, if you could.

“I’ll be fine.”

▾▾▾

Minho left once he received a message from Chris. Instead of feeling relieved that Minho was finally leaving and Chris would soon be home, you found yourself wishing for Minho to stay, for moral support.

Just in case Chris was still in bad mood, you chose to wait in the safety of your room. Maybe if he didn’t see you waiting for him, you could avoid a fight. Maybe he would think you were sleeping.

You were wrong. The moment Chris got home; you heard his footsteps getting dangerously closer to your room. Clearly, you couldn’t avoid him in his own home. But you didn’t let yourself worry about it; you were strong enough to face him. You told yourself at least.

With a book in your hands, you laid in your bed, unbothered, from outside. Inside? You were screaming and shaking.

Chris didn’t knock, he didn’t bother which gave away his mood. He stood by the door, watching you too calm for his liking.

“Hello Y/N.” He finally said, voice awfully calm.

You glanced from your book, pretending that there was absolutely nothing wrong, and smiled. “Hi you. How was your day?”

Chris had to give it to you, you were really something. He knew you were fearless and strong and would not cower so easily before anyone, him included, but it didn’t mean your behavior didn’t piss him off. He swallowed down his frustration, he had to if he wanted to have a proper conversation with you.

“You know,” Chris started walking towards your bed, undoing his tie in the process. “I’m trying really hard right now not to snap at you.”

“Effort appreciated.” You closed your book, not that you were really reading it anyway, and stared back with just as much intensity. “You’re angry.”

Against better judgement, you crawled to the edge of the bed where he stood. You sat with your hands on your knees, waiting for him to vent, to say everything he thought about you, about how spoiled you are. But he said none of that.

“Are you ready to talk or are we going to fight?” You asked

You hoped you could avoid a fight, especially with him. Considering how stubborn the two of you were, you weren’t sure a fight would lead to anything good. Chris, apparently, thought the same thing as he let a tired and long sigh out. He pulled at his tie and took it completely off before sitting beside you on the bed.

“I don’t want to fight.” He admitted, “But I’m still pretty pissed at what you did.”

You could understand why he was pissed, in his shoes you would have been pissed too, but you still hoped he could understand your point of view too. You reached for his hand and gave it a squeeze. “I’m sorry for worrying you. I really am. But I also need you to understand why I had to get out of this place.”

Chris squeezed your hand back and closed his eyes, trying to get his emotions under control. “I guess; I should apologize too. I didn’t realize how hard it was for you.”

“Let Jisung come with me next time.” You suggested. There was no way Chris would accept leaving you alone, exposed to danger, but if someone strong enough was with you, it was a different story. “Or Minho.”

Chris quirked a brow at the mention of Minho. He knew how you felt about the man and he definitely knew Minho’s opinion of you too. “Minho? Really?”

You chuckled at his surprise. Of course, he would. But after the little chat with Minho, you realized he wasn’t that bad – you could actually picture yourself getting along with him, given times. “I know. Shocking, right?”

“Yeah. I thought you hated him.”

“We had a chat and kind of bonded?”

Chris shook his head, amused with the outcome. “You being comfortable with Jisung is already alarming. But now Minho?”

“Oh come on, we’re not that bad!” Well, you could definitely see why you and Jisung being a team bothered Chris; the two of you were troublemakers and Jisung would choose your side without batting an eye.

“You and Minho? Terrifying.”

▾▾▾

For some reasons (you imagined it had everything to do with your little incident), Chris chose to work from home for the time being. A part of you was delighted, you didn’t feel so lonely anymore. On the other hand, Chris had been a tease. Not touching you was one thing, walking around shirtless was a whole other level of torture for you.

Just like today. He worked from the living room, once more shirtless, messy hair, looking like a damn meal that you wished you could devour. There was nothing you could do except stare at him from your seat, admiring his perfect, strong body. You watched as he would frown at the screen (and managing to look adorable while doing so), as he would rake his fingers through his hair in frustration.

With those thoughts came a realization.

‘Damn. I think it’s safe to say I like him.’ You thought

It wasn’t supposed to happen. Of course, it wasn’t a first for you, but considering the situation, you didn’t think it was appropriate. With a long sigh, you left your spot and went to the kitchen to get yourself a very much needed drink. Didn’t matter that it was only eleven in the morning.

Right before you could grab the bottle, you felt a warm presence behind your back. Chris reached for a bottle of water, half trapping you between his warm chest and the fridge. You gulped nervously, feeling his warm breath caress your nape. He nudged your neck with his nose, inhaling sharply.

“Did you use my shower gel?”

“No.” Yes. But really, you hadn’t done it on purpose; you were sleepy and grabbed without thinking and now you smelled like him which clearly was driving you crazy and had an effect on him too.

He clicked his tongue at your lie.

“Since you already smell like me, should I mark you?” He whispered as his lips brushed your ear.

This man was testing your patience and your self-control which surprisingly you still had. But not for long. All he had to do was put his lips on you and you would melt in his arms.

Chris pulled away the moment he got the bottle and went back to his business as if nothing had happened.

The little shit.

You took a deep breath, slapped your cheeks for good measure and then followed his steps. “Ok, that’s enough! Put a shirt on!”

Chris glanced at you and chuckled at your behavior. You tried to look as stern as possible with your hands crossed over your chest, frowning at him.

“Now, why would I do that?”

“For my sanity.”

Chris laughed at that. And did not put a shirt on.

▾▾▾

You got woken up in the middle of the night because it was getting particularly noisy which was odd. Last time you checked, there was only Chris and you, but you swore you heard other voices and rather familiar ones. You contemplated the idea of staying in bed, after all whatever was going on outside your room was none of your business. But could you really resist to your curiosity? Not really.

On tip toes you walked through the hall, following the yelling. It wasn’t hard to find the source; it came from Chris’s office. The door was half-opened but you hesitated. You weren’t sure how any of them would react to your presence, to you getting involved in their business. Even if you were Chris’s guest and someone who he swore to protect, you were still his enemy’s daughter.

“I’m going to fucking kill him!” Chris growled and banged his fist on the table.

Minho snorted, “Get in the line, dude.” Apparently, he too had grudges.

“Well look at that.” A sinister chuckle echoed right behind you. “What do we have here?”

Your blood froze in your vein as you felt a gun pointed right at your head. Whoever was standing behind you was clearly not taking it lightly to your eavesdropping. You gulped nervously and tried not to move, not to breath.

The man pushed the door with his feet and then forced you to get inside - all eyes on you. Nobody seemed surprised to see you walking inside. You smiled sheepishly at the men. “Hi Ji. Hi Minho.” Then you looked at Chris, silently apologizing. He only shook his head.

“I guess this is the infamous Y/N.” The man behind you finally dropped the gun and faced you. “You don’t look like Rick.”

You scoffed at his words. “Thank God! Have you seen his face?” You were indeed very lucky. You had inherited everything from your mom, your face, your body, your character. “I took after my mom.”

There was a moment of silence and you wondered what bothered them in your response. The man, however, cut short to your thoughts. He outstretched his hand for you to shake and smiled. “Nice to meet you, Y/N. I’m Changbin.”

Without his gun pointed at you, he looked way more charming. You shook his hand, delighted to meet another of Chris’s family member. Changbin looked quite different from Jisung or Minho, big strong muscles, eyes dark until he smiled, then it was all about mischief.

You chose to sit beside Jisung who without hesitation pulled your chair closer to him, choosing to ignore Chris’s displeased gaze.

“Why aren’t you wearing the pretty nightdress?” Jisung whispered to your ear, smiling wickedly at you.

It amazed you how easily Jisung could change the subject and forget about the current situation. You shook your head, amused. “You would have loved that, wouldn’t you?”

He playfully wiggled his brows in response.

“Can you guys stop and reconcentrate on our current problem?” Minho scolded the two of you, giving you the stinky eye.

“What happened?” You asked

It was unlikely they would actually share this information with you, but a girl could hope. There wasn’t much you could do anyway, but maybe you could give advices.

Chris took you by surprise by actually answering your question. “There was a fire, a criminal one, at one of the buildings I own. Five people died.”

You put a hand over your mouth to muffle a gasp.

“We checked the cameras and saw some suspicious men.” Jisung added. He took his phone out of his pocket and showed you one short video.

Your initial shock was replaced with confusion and a frown. The video was dark and you could barely see but Jisung zoomed on the image, showing one man in particular. One man you had seen a few times at your house. Incredulous, you looked at Chris. “My father is behind the fire?”

“Yes.” He didn’t try to deny it.

 “Please, tell me you’re planning to fight back.”

Chris didn’t answer but his eyes promised you your father would pay for it. Dearly.

▾▾▾

▾▾▾

Going to a club like any normal person was a foreign concept to you. Living the life you had, meant you didn’t get many chances to go clubbing, in fact it happened only once and you could barely remember the night. Tonight, however, was different.

The club was loud, crowded and yet with very chic vibe which made sense considering it was Chris’s.

Jisung brought you to Chris’s table who welcomed you with a set of shots, reminding you of your first meeting.

“Are you trying to get me drunk?” You teased but accepted the challenge. You grabbed the first shot and emptied it in one go.

“I’m joining in.” Jisung was way too eager to get wasted.

Chris shook his head but didn’t try to stop his friend. He knew better than to try. “I’m not trying to get you drunk.” He then told you and took your hand, interlocking his fingers with yours. “I want you to enjoy the night. Drink to your heart, dance, do whatever you want. This place is safe.”

To say that your heart melted a little at his words would be an understatement. Your heart throbbed with joy, making you a little daring. You leaned closer to Chris and placed a kiss right in the corner of his lips. “Thank you.”

“I need something stronger if I have to deal with that.” Jisung groaned to himself.

▾▾▾

You did exactly what Chris had suggested. You drank more than you should have, you danced among the people on the dance floor, body buzzing with energy, feeling so alive, so free. It felt incredible as if your life had just begun.

With all the dancing, you completely lost track of time. You didn’t know for how long you had been dancing and you didn’t really care. You changed your dance partners a few times. Chris humored you by dancing for a moment with you but quickly gave up. Jisung had joined you too, just as relaxed and probably drunk as you.

Another handsome man joined Jisung, whispering to his ear as his eyes were locked on you. You quirked a brow and wondered if he was another of Chris’s close circle. If he was, it made you question whether Chris was hiring people based on their looks. How else could you explain that all of his friends were all that good looking?

Jisung outstretched his hand and you took it. He pulled you towards them with too much strength, making you stumble and fall right into his friend’s arms.

“Hi there.” He laughed and helped you to recover your composure. “I’m Hyunjin.”

Since you were that close to him, you took a moment to admire his face. Long brown hair, model-like face and that mole under his eye made him somehow even more captivating. “How come you’re that pretty.” Then you looked at Jisung, feeling incredibly offended. “How come all of you are that pretty?”

The two men laughed at your question but couldn’t deny they were pleased too.

“You fit just fine then.” Hyunjin smiled.

▾▾▾

You stumbled out of the bathroom, feeling that maybe it was finally time to find Chris and ask him to bring you home. You had drunk more than enough and your feet were killing you with all the dancing. Before you could do that, a man grabbed your hand and pulled you back to the dark hall.

“Hi Y/N.”

You blinked once, twice, your drunken brain slowly proceeding the sight before you.

Ren.

Ren was in the club. Ren had found you and cornered you. Once you fully realized he wasn’t just a hallucination, you sobered up right away.

“What are you doing here?” A tiny part of you was glad seeing him. You wondered what your father had done to him for letting you escape so easily; seeing him safe and sound brought relief. But being alone with him worried you.

“You know damn well why I’m here.” He snapped, raising his voice. Ren never lost his patience with you. He never rose his voice at you. And yet.

“I’m not going back.”

You pushed him with all your remaining strength to get him out of your way. He didn’t budge. At all. Instead, he pushed you against the wall and trapped you with his hands at each side of your head.

“Let’s be realistic Y/N.” He sounded cold, bringing the memory of one particular night, back to your mind. A memory you wished you could forget forever. “There’s nothing you can do to stop me from bringing you back.”

“And I believe you have overstayed your welcome.” Chris’s voice forced Ren to put space between the two of you. His hand flied to his gun just in case he needed it.

Chris’s eyes went back and forth between you and Ren, analyzing the situation, calculating.

“Leave.” Chris ordered, leaving no room for discussion.

Knowing Ren, you didn’t expect him to obey but he did. Maybe he realized there was nothing he could do with Chris around. Worse yet, he was joined by Hyunjin who looked just as pissed with Ren’s presence.

Ren spared you one last look before leaving, bumping into Hyunjin’s shoulder on purpose.

“Make sure he doesn’t try anything stupid.” Chris told Hyunjin.

“You have Jisung for that.”

“Hyunjin.”

“Fine! Fine!”

With Hyunjin gone, it left the two of you alone. All this time you had kept your mouth shut, simply because you were too stunned to speak. Chris pulled you into his arms and only when you felt him against you, you realized you were shaking.

“I shouldn’t have brought you here. I’m sorry.”

Despite your state, you managed to find your voice. “Don’t. I’m glad you did.”

▾▾▾

You thought you had seen Chris angry before. You were wrong.

That night, he came back from work pissed as hell, talking (not to say yelling) on the phone and completely ignoring your existence. You watched him from the coach, trying to figure out what was wrong and what you could do to make it better. But he didn’t give you any chance; he walked right to his office and slammed the door behind him.

It was a sight you weren’t used to and yet, instead of feeling intimidated, you were curious. You had no intention on eavesdropping but considering how loud he was talking on the phone, you heard him even with the door closed.

“I don’t give a fuck! Find him.” You heard Chris through the door, sounding even angrier than before, if possible.

It wasn’t your business, you told yourself but you worried. You grabbed your phone and hesitated. Asking Jisung would be the easiest, but would he have the answer? From what you gathered, despite being extremely close to Chris, the one who knew everything wasn’t him. Minho on the other hand was the real deal.

You lied.

Obviously.

Maybe you would come to regret it and remember way too late Minho’s attempt at warning you – but you couldn’t stop yourself from walking towards his door. It wasn’t hard to imagine how much Chris blamed himself for the loss but it wasn’t completely fair either. He was a good man, in your opinion, and he tried to do his best every time, whatever happened couldn’t be his fault, no matter what he thought.

By the time you got to the door, the yelling had stopped. You knocked, knowing all too well that there was no chance he would let you in. You bit on your lips and hesitated. Could you actually handle him right now? Maybe not but you couldn’t stop yourself. You took a deep breath and let yourself in.

Chris sat by his desk in the dark, the only source of light coming from outside illuminated his body. He looked both tensed and tired, his head resting between his hands.

“Chris?” You tried; your voice weaker than you intended.

You thought he didn’t hear you but the moment you took another step towards him, he snapped.

“Leave.” He ordered without even looking at you, in fear that if he saw you, he would say something he could potentially regret later.

Did you obey? Of course not.

“I’m not leaving.” You replied stubbornly.

Chris groaned in response. He didn’t want to see you or talk to you when he was so damn angry; he would look for any chance to start a fight if it meant he could get rid of all those feelings. But he didn’t want to fight with you, you didn’t deserve all the mean things he could say without meaning any of it. Despite better judgment, and because you were too stubborn, he finally looked your way. Even in the darkness, you could feel the intensity of his gaze. Your body knew that right now, the man before you was dangerous, but your heart knew better.

“Why can’t you listen for once?” He was quickly losing his patience. Any other day, he would have played along and let you have your way, tonight, however, he wished to be left alone, to deal with his guilt and rage.

Chris jumped out of his chair, so fast it fell on the floor with a loud noise, startling you. “Get the fuck out.”

You shook your head, refusing again.

“Y/N, I swear to god-“ He clenched his fist and inhaled sharply. He had little to no control left and you were making things impossibly hard.

You walked faster to get to him before he could say anything else. You stood inches from him. It pained you to see him this way, because despite his anger, you could feel his pain and regret.

“Don’t push me away.” You pleaded as you reached for him. You expected him to reject you but he didn’t. He let you put your hand on his shoulder and you gave it a gentle, comforting squeeze. “I know there’s nothing I can do to help you, but I don’t think you should be alone right now.”

You took the final steps between you two before finally wrapping your arms tightly around him and pulling him to you. To your surprise, Chris didn’t resist, instead, he fully buried his head in the crook of your neck, shaking in your arms.

Your heart melted at the sight. He was no longer the scary boss, but just a wounded man. You ran your fingers through his locks to sooth him. “I’m here for you, if you need me.”

Without fully realizing it, your words unsettled Chris. He wasn’t used to people confronting him whenever he was angry, whenever he just wanted to punch someone to relieve his pain and anger. But you? You showed him compassion and offered a shoulder to cry on if he needed – for that, he was grateful.

He pulled away from your arms only to get a good look at your face. Such a pretty face. He gently cupped your face, his thumb stroking your cheek lovingly, hoping to convey his feelings without needing to speak. He didn’t trust himself. Not yet. And you understood it. You simply closed your eyes and leaned into his touch, savoring the moment.

“You’re too good, Y/N.” He whispered, “I don’t deserve it.”

Your only response was to plant a kiss on the hand that was touching your face.

Chris observed your every move, your every breath, memorizing every inch of your face, every mole and the tiny scars that he had never noticed before. As you opened your eyes to look back at him, he inhaled sharply, completely bewitched by your beautiful eyes, drowning in them. You didn’t speak but the silence and your gaze spoke louder.

“Y/N.” He called for you without even fully realizing it. He wanted to kiss you. He wanted to keep you with him forever, even once you reached your common goal.

He pressed his forehead against yours and closed his eyes, savoring the moment, to think about what he should or shouldn’t do. But really, how could he resist you any more?

“Can I kiss you?” He whispered

Your reply came in the form of a gentle press of your lips against his. You didn’t hesitate, but seeing how this moment was intimate and fragile, you didn’t want to rush, you didn’t want to unleash all your feelings at once. And he understood.

Chris’s lips felt divine. Just like the kiss. It was slow and sweet and gentle and filled with unspoken promises.

[wrathofrats]

hi hi hello could you please expand on aether's complicated feelings about dew's elemental transition? (im so hooked on your lore hdv3bdkcg)

Hi omg I’ve been meaning to write a longer official piece about this, so thank you for the excuse for something like that! I’m so happy you’re enjoying my lore side of stuff omg it makes me so giddy???

Basically going through aethers internal monologue of what he feels following the events. Reminder he is going through very heavy guilt and his feelings are a lot more dramatized than what actually happened

No one blames him, only he blames himself

Warnings for angst, guilt, mild self destructive behaviors

For the lore I’m talking about or more context please see #wraths ghost lore (not super necessary, just know aether did dews transition)

He remembers how the magic burned through his fingers.

The way he could see it creep through dews veins as he bled it in through his arms. He remembers the panicked look he gave omega who kept dewdrop subdued on the table as he screamed.

The thoughts don’t go away, haven’t left him in months. The sight of dews face twisted in pain stains the back of his eyes when he sleeps and he can’t look at him without seeing the wounds that have long since healed. It’s his handiwork at the end of the day. The scars over dew's gills are his doing, the burning flare ups dew gets in his joints are his fault. The breakdowns dew has over his new element can only be blamed on aether and he doesn’t think he will ever feel right with himself again over it.

Dews told him it’s not his fault more times than he can count. The now fire ghoul can feel the shame and pity that aether stares at him with.

“I wanted this aeth” dew rubs his hand over aethers shoulder “it had to be done”

“I know” aether leans into the touch.

But he doesn’t

The blood on his hands doesn’t seem to dry. No amount of reassurance that he had to do it takes the guilt away.

There are people out there that have to put down sick dogs, and aether wonders if the blood on their hands disappears when they clock out. Aether wonders if maybe that’s his fate too. If his job was something akin to putting down a sick dog. If he’s intervened in a divine destiny and he’s only created some half put together Frankenstein of his own friend.

He wonders if he’s only simply prolonged the inevitable.

And even if he did save dew he wonders if it was fair to have the responsibility put on himself. A god of force and not of willingness.

The sight of dew sometimes is too much to handle. Not because of any physical shock, he still looks like his dew, but the knowledge of the pain makes aethers stomach crawl up his throat. Dew would’ve been better off without him, he’s sure of it considering how he only seems to hurt him. The thought reassures itself more and more as the time passes. Dews' desperate attempts to wrangle his friend from the depths of guilt only make him feel worse. This shouldn’t be his job. Not after what he’s been through.

Aether retreats. Closes himself off more and more from those who wish to support him most. The genuine belief that he’s harmed someone is truly more than he can bear to handle, let alone to constantly see the fruits of his labor tell him how much he loves him.

His door stays locked most days. His relationships slip from his fingers in his own self wallowing. A recluse of his own fault but

Is there a more fitting fate for him?

[thecameronchronicles]

Blizzard

TW: Smut. Language. Slight spanking. 

SUMMARY: A breakdown during a storm leads to a confession. 

WORD COUNT: 1900

*ORIGINAL CONCEPT*

Blizzard

It was rare but it happened. White out conditions in which you weren't able to see even a few feet in front of the car. Where ice and snow worked in unison to wreak havoc on those daft enough to try and chance it. And of course, JJ was one of those stubborn souls who believed he was wise and skilled enough to outlast the storm. But even if his convictions could be loosely commendable, the truck chosen to risk the storm was anything but reliable. 

"Shit!" He belted as the car died somewhere between The Outer Banks and Charleston, where you were coming back from visiting family. But where John B, Kiara, and Pope remained behind to wait out the storm, you and JJ dared the blizzard in hopes that you could return home by Christmas morning. But in the process, the truck was now stalled in the center of a desolate interstate absent from any other headlights aside from yours, now dying on the snow below. 

"Where are we?" You asked upon pulling your head from the rest it had made against the door until hearing his curse. 

"About five minutes away from me tearing that engine to pieces, piece of shit!" He hit the steering wheel with aggression as your eyes widened at this unexpected outburst. He was already desperate to get home from what you believed to be an uncomfortable family setting that he was otherwise deprived of. But the truth was more tender than that, but a truth he didn't want you to know of. At least not yet. 

"It's okay J-" 

"No! It's not. This is at least three fifty for the engine alone, not to mention the time wasted and-" 

"Really JJ, it's okay-" But in your attempt to console him, he was already under the hood of the car. The sound of further cursing half silenced by the rattling of an engine would lead you to understand his continued frustrations. 

"JJ, you're gonna get yourself sick, please just come back in the car." 

"Fuck!" He kicked the tire. "Useless piece of shit!" You realized rather quickly he was no longer berating the car, but more of himself. It broke your heart for a multitude of reasons. But more than anything for how hard you knew the holiday season for him had been. With the only family being a drunkard seemingly Velcroed to a couch coming down from the cheapest high he could find, any semblance of the festive spirit was understandably absent from him. No matter how he tried. You could still read the pain behind his eyes and the anxieties he tried to silence beneath humor. But you saw through it. You always did. And you were the only one who could consistently. 

"JJ..." He threw himself back in the car. 

"It was supposed to be special! Okay? The ONE thing I could give you and I fucked it up, too! God, I'm just-" 

"What are you talking about? What was supposed to be special?" 

But he remained silent, leading you to push him further until he finally relinquished his truth.

"I get to see you once a year and then you go back off to college with all those guys unworthy of your time...and I wanted to give you something worth remembering me-" 

"JJ..." 

"I know I should have said all this shit before but I never knew how you felt and then they way you look at me from across the table and hug me just a bit longer-" When you realized the sound of his name was only silenced behind his rant, you decided to set him into quietude with a different method. One that was favorable between you both. A simple collision of your lips would make him swallow hard once you retracted. 

"It's special because I'm with you. The only reason I come back every year...the reason I stay until New Year’s...hoping you'll make a move. Still waiting…" 

With one hand to your cheek and another pulling your belt loose until he could wrap his arm around your waist he set you against him with conviction. The kiss prompting this exchange was lackluster from being taken off guard by you, so he would now offer what nearly two decades of tension of friendship teetering on sensuality and romance had now amounted to once able to be acted on. And you were just as eager. 

As he focused more on the kiss, ensuring he was able to validate to you both of this desire, your fingers were quick beneath his plaid shirt, greedy to the muscles now contracting from your touch alone. You had always always teased with them and now they were at your disposal. 

"You like 'em?" He teased as you blushed before slowly nodding. 

"I like knowing I can touch them whenever I want..." You confessed aa he grinned. 

"That ain't the only thing that's yours then, sweetheart-" Your hand was pulled beneath his jeans, pulled apart by his ambitious hand, as he guided you into his seam. 

"I've never wanted anything more than you..." He explained as he watched you drool over his cock, 

"Well you have me, JJ..." You continued, pulling his shaft into pleasure as you set it into a series of corkscrews. 

"You know I wish for this every year, JJ?" 

"My cock?" 

"In a way..." You both chuckled. "I wish for you... to touch me...to kiss me...to tell me you want me...THAT is what I want every single year..." His hand came to the back of your neck, forcing your focus to remain on only his eyes. 

"I wish it was better than some broken down car-" 

"It's perfect. Because..." You lined him up to your sex, slowly sinking onto him as you teased an answer. 

"It's you..." You tried to rise again before he latched that arm tighter around you. 

"Get in the back. Panties off." 

"JJ-" 

"I might not be able to give you a five star hotel and a fireplace or anything like that, but I can make it more comfortable than this. Besides...I wanna see that ass climb over the console for me...." He playfully slapped your ass as you obeyed, looking back at him as a preview of how you would look at him if he decided to take you from behind. It made his jaw clenched at the way your eyes fell to his, all while you obeyed and waited for him in the back. 

Keeping his pants in the front, he crawled behind as your fingers were quick to work the plaid shirt and tee beneath free from his chest while he was left in only his boxers. Without a word, he let you explore him completely for your liking. Fingers pulling at him, he smirked before you withdrew him from his boxers and began to lower your mouth towards him. 

"I want to know how you taste, JJ." His eyes darkened hollow. 

"Like you." He reminded as you bit your bottom lip. 

"I wanna find out for myself..." His hand pulled around your hair as it tried to block him from the view of you taking him so expertly. A soft but warm tongue across his slit having collected his precum and taken if for yourself, the tang of yourself ignored in contrast to that of his own, while you felt him twitch to the moan you made as you extended him past your cheeks sucked for his pleasure. 

"Sweetheart-" You quickened, his second hand now leading to your jaw to force you to give him. But as he tried to claim some type of dominance, your hand continued to please him. 

"Yes, JJ? Something wrong? You don't want me to stop, do you, JJ?" You teased as he only answered with a roll of his eyes. 

"Fuck..." 

"I wanna make you feel good..." He groaned, a hand wrapping over your ass as he basked over the naked skin for just a moment before allowing you the reprieve of his fingers filling your sex. One ringed digit at a time, at home in the clench of you. 

"JJ..." 

"Get on top, baby...I want you to ride me until I can make you come-" 

"Wait..." You moved back into his hand, "That feels so good JJ...I could come like this..." He groaned. 

"I wanna make you come every fucking way...and I will. But I need to feel you around me. Please...I need-" You wrapped your lips back around him, but only for lubrication to prepare him for you as he was larger than what you were used to. 

"Shit-" He cursed while you moved back over him in a straddle. But the second your walls accepted him, his hands were at your ass to pull you even deeper. 

"Oh my God! You're so fucking good to me...Shit!" He quickened you before stowing enough to warm your chilled skin by his touch. Hands gluttonous for your chest and the exposure of your breasts would make you gasp as he took your nipples behind his teeth. One at a time as you moaned to the sucking and nibbles left behind by him. 

"JJ...plesse..." 

"Fuck, I wanna last-" 

"I can't! You're too deep..." 

"If you don't slow down-" 

"Make me come JJ...I'm SO close!" But suddenly you were stilled, flipped onto all fours as you were reliant on the console of the car as he positioned himself inside of you from behind once again. 

"You want me to fuck you, princess? You want me to make you come" 

"JJ.. I'm so close....PLEASE!" He pulled your hair slightly, "Harder!" He obliged. Harder thrusts and a tighter grip making you moan. 

"You're mine, sweetheart. There's no denying it after this...these windows steamed with how heavy you're breathing for me...sest stained with how hard I'm about to make you come...My best friend...about to come for me..." He scoffed before this fell into a groan. 

"Oh God, I'm close..." You purposely clenched around him, bringing him closer to his edge as he forced your lips against his at a cruel angle that deepened the pleasure allowed between your thighs by his dominant hand rubbing at your clit. 

"Yeah that's right princess, let me fucking have it...let me fucking-oh shit!" 

"JJ!" You were in a specific still that made every motion he made sensational to your bliss. Every breath and flex, even as he pulled from you to make you face him, everything was deeper and longer as it had come from him. 

"Come here..." He pulled you to recline against his chest, leading you to rest with your back to his chest as you basked in the rush of his heart felt at war against your skin. 

"Why didn't you ever tell me?" You turned to face him, "That you wanted this..." 

"Because I was afraid you didn't..." 

"And now since you know?" 

"Well it does give me some ideas on how to stay warm... who knows how long we'll be trapped out here..." 

"I could definitely think of worse ways to spend it..." He leaned down and kissed you softly, the kind of kiss that promised an encore of what had just happened. But prior to that, he would offer the most passionate of kisses as your fingers interlaced, a story written in the steam of the windows that night. 

A story of friends to lovers. 

A story of you and JJ…

@hopebaker @iovdrew @penny4yourthoughts @magnificantmermaid @pickingviolets @lovedetlost @trikigirl271 @maybankslover @slut4starkey @slvtherinseeker @obxiskewl @obxxrxfes @bluesongbird @slut-era @ailee-celeste @rafesbae @camilynn @sweetestdesire @pankhoeforlife @pankowperfection @onmykneesforrafe @drews1love

[sighonaraa]

All of your wips sound AMAZING. If you are up to sharing anything about it, perhaps you could share something about the ‘jamie gets hugged several ways to sunday’ fic?

you are the SWEETEST TO MEEEE. the thing about me is i love talking on and on about my fics and i am particularly excited about the 'jamie gets hugged several ways to sunday' fic SO.

post-wembley, jamie's grappling with the aftermath, and he's grappling with it alone. at the same time, he's beginning to realize that perhaps he is Just A Tad touch-starved. these two things coincide during the worst possible period of his life and as a result he has some breakdowns in front of his friends and then gets HUGGED and CUDDLED and LOVED about it. FOREVER!!!!!!

but first! here! have a Sad!

“…No,” Jamie says, again, though on repeat it sounds more like a question. He’s not sure where this conversation is going, and that frightens him. Makes the back of his neck prickle. His fingers close into fists unbidden, the dullness of his nails pressing against the rough, calloused stretch of his palms. An ache shoots up his arm, his right arm; the same arm he’d pulled back and then allowed to hurtle forward, arcing in an unwavering line, making impact with his Da’s cheek in a white-hot flare of magnificent pain. The punch itself hadn’t hurt, honestly. But the fear of what would happen next had surged through Jamie’s entire body like he’d touched an electrical socket; like he’d been standing out in the middle of an open field and lightning had cleaved down his spine and split him in half. That’s how it had felt. Like he’d been split in half. A before to which he could never return, and an after in which he was now trapped. Animal in a cage. He’s been rattling at the bars for weeks and he can’t find a way out, and he’s stuck in a lightless room and he knows there’s someone in the next room over, he knows because he can hear them sharpening their knives, and he also knows it’s only a matter of time till they return to carve him to pieces. He blinks, casting a veil across the image. The air sears his lungs. It ain’t cold, but he’s breathing kinda funny, and his chest is refusing to open up enough to let the air in properly. Roy’s frowning. “Jamie?” “Yeah?” Jamie manages, faint. Spots dance at the corners of his vision. “M’fine.”

[heyyallitsbeth]

so i let the hyperfixation win.

over the past several hours i rewatched Sword Art Online and SAO 2.

(this time dubbed, last time i watched it subbed)

here are my thoughts:

-anyone who said the dub was bad is just wrong. Kirito's VA really shines in the more comedic or sweet moments (like when first meeting Yui), he reminds me of like a Peter Parker. and oh my lord, the breakdown by Suguha's VA was just a masterpiece. Still have chills from watching it.

-i have such a big appreciation for every character. This time it really shined through how good of characters Kirito, Asuna, and Suguha actually are.

Kirito's internal conflict throughout SAO2 is so good, grappling with their actions they needed to take in SAO to survive. and throughout all of it you can tell how much they truly loves their friends and family, and how kind hearted they really are. Asuna definitely fits into that role as well, being so ready to take care of Yui and so desperately wanting her to be safe and loved and cared for.

And oh my gosh Suguha. I remember people absolutely hated her arc because it is problematic, but the fact is, it's played entirely serious, her feelings arent taken as a joke. She has a genuine and real internal struggle for feeling things she feels she shouldnt, and how she feels those feelings arent reciprocated or cant be reciprocated, and having her heart broken twice by someone who she loves and someone who also does still genuinely love her. Its absolutely heartbreaking to watch.

Man, Sinon is still fantastic. She's still my absolute favorite, and I think she is one of the best characters in the show, and pretty much steals the show from her introduction. Her arc ties in so seamlessly with Kirito's and how they help eachother heal and grow is fantastic. Only complaint is we never got a scene of the rest of the Gals being jealous about the grenade hug she gave Kirito. After Kirito and Sinon nearly died, wouldve been some nice relief so you didnt feel like you yourself were dying.

-Speaking of, while there was definitely a ton of fanservice, the pseudo-harem aspect with the jokes were kinda cute, between characters seeing flirting happen around them, getting embarassed over it, its fun. Especially when people got jealous of Sinon flirting with Kirito over Excalibur. That part was very fun, since they did that infront of everyone else, almost like they were trying to get a rise out of them. Theyre not exactly the pinnacle of comedy, its definitely a trope, but theres something nostalgic about it that makes it kinda enjoyable.

-Speaking of the psuedo-harem, guys if all of you are constantly flirting with eachother (not just Kirito surprisingly, happens between the other girls frequently) and jealous of any affection with that, just start a polycule. You're a group of gamer girls playing MMOs together and all of you have slept in the same bed with eachother. Stop snipping at eachother and start dating eachother. Polyamory is pretty cool. Kirito and Asuna can still be the main duo and be the parents to Yui and Strea; but yall gotta work on the jealousy or just do what every other group of girl gamers does, polyamory. Lisbeth you should not be angrily drinking while watching Kirito and Asuna talk. (this is mostly a joke, im not actually saying they *have* to do a polycule, its more of a joke because of how tropey a lot of the flirting and jealousy is, and yknow, gay girls do polyamory, so dont take this part toooooo seriously.)

-Speaking of girls dating girls, the LGBT rep aint half bad. Argo canonically using both male and female pronouns is really cool! Most of the girls flirt with eachother a lot too, which is nice. Between the female avatar, the willingness to pretend to be a girl, the introversion, the desire to be an avatar in a virtual world more than irl, Kirito might be transgender. All good stuff here.

Overall, SAO is honestly way better than I remembered, even if some parts definitely show its age. You gotta piece it together a little bit with headcanons, but i do that with every show, nothing is perfect. Except Sinon. And a world where trans Kirito is canon. Those are perfect.

[animehouse-moe]

The Ancient Magus' Bride Season 2 Episode 15: Needs Must When The Devil Drives I.

Perhaps a slower episode than usual in the front half, this one dives head first into our two caregiver pairings of Elias-Chise, and Alcyone-Philomela. It's really great to see how they approach each and how they interact with one another, so I have a lot to talk about.

Let's start off with Elias! I love his character progression in this episode once more. Just the subtle things like how he says to "reach out to him if anything happens". While he does justify it by the fact that humans are frail to him, the sentiment of Elias attempting to care about another person is absolutely there.

Even better is Simeon's comment about music. Elias shows interest in it, and then extrapolates it to relate it to Chise, and not in just a simple manner. It has him pondering the question "what does Chise like? What was she like before me?". It's an outstanding development for two reasons.

Firstly, it shows Elias' ability to look inwards in retrospect and apply the ideas that other people supply him with to other friends or people close to him. Secondly, during that introspection, it's not just "I wonder what kind of music Chise likes", rather, he uses the initial idea to further expand on Chise as a person, rather than something that comes to mind as an association. It's really really great stuff that shows how Elias is growing and developing as a person.

Similarly, but also somehow different, we get Alcyone in this really great sequence.

I really like the direction through this sequence because it accentuates Alcyone's purpose. Other people do exist, such as Philomela's parents, but all that Alcyone sees is Philomela herself. Is it because of her purpose as an artificial fairy, or is it the beginnings of something greater, similar to Elias? Personally I feel like it's the latter, which I'll explain in just a bit.

First though, this scene of Alcyone looking at Philomela. It's just really pretty, and the depth of field is a nice touch to help viewers understand that Alcyone is only looking at Philomela.

Anyways, why do I think that Alcyone is more like Elias than unlike? Well, it's Elias himself in their conversation. He himself states that he can't stop answering Alcyone's questions, and I think the reasoning is obvious as we begin a two part parallel. Elias sees a version of himself in Alcyone. I think it's a great idea to explore that comparison, especially because the two are currently isolated from the outside world.

And then there's the whole Philomela and Chise piece, which was great. Here though, they explicitly state (or I guess show?) that Chise sees herself in Philomela despite their differences, and that a lot of it is about finding a way to save her past self by helping Philomela. It's very interesting, and ties directly into Chise's struggle with selfishness in a way that might not directly present as that.

And then there's the whole Rian-Isaac breakdown which is really great. We could see glimpses of the tension here and there with Rian interacting with Philomela finally, but the breaking point was really well done. The idea of "two sides of the same coin" comes to mind with the pair, so I'm really excited to see what goes on now that Philomela has been properly added to the mix.

Though I should add, Rian's disposition towards Philomela is very interesting. It's childish, I would say. He's frustrated that the friend he once had is essentially no more, so he takes it out on the version of them that stands in front of him.

The latter half of this episode just brings a lot in terms of breakdowns as it prepares to build things up alongside the mystery of the book swirling around the college.

While the first half might be a touch dry, the second half is incredibly full and rich, sporting great sunset-dyed visuals and surprisingly solid character animation in some sequences.

The book might be the focus of this arc right now, but I'm nearly exclusively focused on the characters because they're just so damn well written.

[fullstcp]

"Manic" by Halsey Sentence Starters

ASHLEY

"I can't remember why the decision wasn't mine."

"It seems I'm only clinging to an idea now."

"Took my heart and sold it out to a vision that I wrote myself."

"Someday, when I burst into flames, I'll leave you the dust."

"I told you I'd spill my guts."

"Seems like now it's impossible to work this out."

"I'm so committed to an old ghost town."

"Is it really that strange if I always wanna change?"

"If only the time and space between us wasn't lonely."

"I'd disintegrate into a thousand pieces."

"Think I'm making a mistake."

"But if I decide to break, who will fill the empty space?"

"I told you I'd ride this out."

"It's getting harder every day."

"Somehow, I'm bursting out of my self."

CLEMENTINE

"In my world, the people on the street don't know my name."

"In my world, I'm seven feet tall."

"In my world, I'm constantly having a breakthrough. Or a breakdown. Or a blackout."

"Would you make out with me underneath the shelter of the balcony?"

"I don't need anyone."

"I just need everyone and then some."

"Wish I could see what it's like to be the blood in my veins."

"Can you feel it too when I am touching you?"

"Left my shoes in the street so you'd carry me."

"Would you make out with me on the floor of the mezzanine?"

"I left my daydreams at the gate because I just can't take them too."

"Know my heart still has a suitcase, but I still can't take it through."

GRAVEYARD

"It's crazy when the thing you love the most is the detriment."

"Let that sink in."

"The hand you wanna hold is a weapon and you're nothing but skin."

"I keep digging myself down deeper."

"I won't stop 'til I get where you are."

"They say I may be making a mistake."

"I would've followed all the way, no matter how far."

"I would've followed all the way to the graveyard."

"You push right through me."

"It's funny how the warning signs can feel like they're butterflies."

YOU SHOULD BE SAD

"I gotta get it off my chest."

"Got no anger, got no malice. Just a little bit of regret."

"Know nobody else will tell you, so there's some things I gotta say."

"You're not half the man/woman you think that you are."

"I'm so glad I never ever had a baby with you."

"You can't love nothing unless there's something in it for you."

"I feel so sorry, I feel so sad."

"I tried to help you, it just made you mad."

"I had no warning about who you are."

"I'm just glad I made it out without breaking down, and then ran so fucking far."

"I really meant well from the start."

"Take a broken man/woman right in my hands and then put back all his/her parts."

"You can't fill the hole inside of you with money, girls, and cars."

"You should be sad."

FOREVER ... (IS A LONG TIME)

"I spent a long time watering a plant made out of plastic."

"I cursed the ground for growing green."

"I spent a long time substituting honest with sarcastic."

"I cursed my tongue for being mean."

"You cut me open, sucked the poison from an aging wound."

"Who'd reach out and grab the moon if I should ask or just imply that I wanted a bit more light?"

"I could never hold a perfect thing and not demolish it."

"What am I thinking?"

"What does this mean?"

"How could somebody ever love me?"

DOMINIC'S INTERLUDE

"Your eyes are fragile and timeless, it's beautiful."

"There's power in the words you whisper."

"Your eyes are open when you kiss him/her."

"You can take a chance, come take my hand."

I HATE EVERYBODY

"I'm my own biggest enemy."

"All my empathy's a disaster."

"I don't know what they all think of me."

"I don't even remember anything but thinking you're the one."

"I can force a future like it's nothing."

"I'll just hate everybody."

"Why can't I go home without somebody?"

"I could fall in love with anybody who don't want me."

"I just keep saying I hate everybody, but maybe I don't."

"I know I've got a tendency to exaggerate what I'm seeing."

"I know that it's unfair of me to make a memory out of a feeling."

"I notice every single thing that's ever happening in a moment."

"Infatuation's observation with a cause."

"But none of it is love."

"If I could make you love me, maybe you could make me love me."

"If I can't make you love me, then I'll just hate everybody."

3AM

"Think I took it way too far."

"My insecurities are hurting me."

"Someone please come and flirt me."

"I really need a mirror that'll come along and tell me that I'm fine."

"I do it every time."

"I keep on hanging on the line, ignoring every warning sign."

"Come on and make me feel alright again."

"I'm calling everybody that I know."

"I need it digital cause, baby, when it's physical I end up alone."

"I know it's complicated."

"Know that my identity's always getting the best of me."

"I'm the worst of my enemies."

"I don't really know what to do with me."

"Will you please pick up the fucking phone?"

WITHOUT ME

"Found you when your heart was broke."

"I filled your cup until it overflowed."

"Took it so far to keep you close."

"I was afraid to leave you on your own."

"I said I'd catch you if you fall."

"If they laugh, then fuck 'em all."

"Tell me, how's it feel sitting up there?"

"You know I'm the one who put you up there."

"Gave love about a hundred tries."

"Just running from the demons in your mind."

"I didn't notice cause my love was blind."

"You don't have to say just what you did."

"I already know."

"I had to go and find out from them."

"So tell me, how's it feel?"

FINALLY // BEAUTIFUL STRANGER

"You've got hips like Jagger and two left feet."

"I wonder if you'd like to meet."

"Your voice is velvet through a telephone."

"I've never seen a mouth that I would kill to kiss."

"I'm terrified, but I can't resist."

"Beautiful strangers only come along to do me wrong."

"I think it's finally safe for me to fall."

"I've never recognized a purer face."

"You stopped me in my tracks and put me right in my place."

"Used to think that loving meant a painful chase."

"You're right here now and I think you'll stay."

ALANIS' INTERLUDE

"I can't change my appetite."

"It doesn't matter to me."

"I have never felt the difference."

"I think I'll probably die before I have you."

"I live for loving impolite."

KILLING BOYS

"Told me pick my battles and be picking 'em wise. But I wanna pick 'em all and I don't wanna decide."

"Tell me, have you ever keyed a Ferrari before?"

"I won't ever feel this way again."

"Cause you don't need me anymore."

"I won't ever try again."

"All I want in return is revenge."

"So where do you go?"

"I don't wanna Uma Thurman your ass."

"I don't need you anymore."

SUGA'S INTERLUDE

"I've been trying all my life to separate the time between the having it all and giving it up."

"I wonder what's in store if I don't love it anymore."

MORE

"Wanna scream, but what's the use?"

"Feeling so incomplete."

"Wonder will we ever meet?"

"Would you know it right away, how hard I tried to see your face?"

"I still believe it won't be like before."

"When you decide it's your time to arrive, I've loved you for all of my life."

STILL LEARNING

"I should be living the dream."

"I got a paranoia in me."

"I know that I've done some wrong, but I'm tryna make it right."

"Get me out right now."

"And know that I love you."

"I'm still learning to love myself."

"No one wants to really commit."

929

"Can't remember half the time that I've been alive."

"They say don't meet your heroes, they're all fucking weirdos."

"God knows that they were right."

"Because nobody loves you, they just try to fuck you."

"Who do you call when it's late at night?"

"I wasn't in love then, and I'm still not now. And I'm so happy I figured that out."

"I've got a long way to go until self-preservation."

"I think my moral compass is on a vacation."

"I'm still looking for my salvation."

[altschmerzes]

if anyone has cats they would like to send me pics of i would appreciate that a lot i am having a very very fucking weird one right now and don’t really know what to do with myself.

the short version is: my dad died today. the long version is..... probably an absolutely ridiculous overshare but. like i said. don’t know what to do with myself so i’m just. idk im talking out loud i guess, putting this Somewhere. it’s. heavy, sorry.

so the post i made recently celebrating seven years going no-contact with my abusive father who kind of ruined my life in a lot of really serious ways i am likely never really going to completely recover from? yeah. he had a stroke earlier this year that sounded like it was pretty serious and that was a lot to process and then i just got the call from my mom that he had a heart attack while fishing with a friend this afternoon and died. apparently it was fast, which is good. he was fifty-five and i guess he’d just hit two years sober.

my mom sounded really upset on the phone, and i guess she’d only found out less than ten minutes before she called me, she just told my sister, who lives with her, and my sister went off to take a shower (read: have a breakdown in the shower), and then called me immediately and said “your dad died” as soon as i answered with a hey, what’s up. they’d been divorced for twenty years and he was a fucking bastard but i guess your ex-husband and your kids’ dad who you’ve recently been reconnecting with and spending time with again dies and you’re probably gonna have some strong feelings about it. my sister is in pieces, they’d reconnected and were spending a lot more time together. in their text they said ‘i barely got any time with him and i’m fucking heartbroken’.

and because he has no other living relatives my 23 year old sister who is uh, in a fragile state on the best of days, is gonna have to deal with all of the paperwork and shit that happens when someone dies. and my sister and i’s relationship is like.... it’s complicated, to put it politely, they are very hard for me to be around for a lot of reasons, but i wouldn’t wish that on them and i wish i was able to take on that stuff if only because i’m almost through law school and i’m the least emotionally invested in the man and it just would be easier for everyone if i did the paperwork and whatever.

and then there’s my brother, because i have a brother, who i barely talk about because it hurts to think about him. he’s nine years older than me and he’s my half-brother by my dad and after my dad went to prison on drug charges i didn’t see him for thirteen years. and then a long time after a brief visit too. he’s got two kids now, and for a while there we were in sporadic contact, but i haven’t seen or heard from him since i was maybe nineteen. and my mom was just kind of rambling on the phone about how she had to find my brother’s mother’s contact information because someone had to tell him and because i’m all the way out here and i can’t DO anything else i told her i’d find her and tell her what happened and get everyone’s contact information for whatever’s coming next so. now i’ve texted my brother, who is a living wound in my life, for the first time in like six years. he hasn’t answered yet and according to his mother he’s ‘devastated.’ so.

i’m not. i’m not devastated. i don’t know what i feel honestly. once i tracked her down on facebook and dealt with all of that i just sort of sat at the kitchen table and stared at the wall for a long time. listened to the mountain goats song ‘pale green things’ and drifted in a weird numb void. i’m not.... sad. not about him anyway. i don’t know what i am. i have a very difficult time articulating my feelings on a good day, fuck i mean i have a hard time identifying my feelings on a good day. some combination of autism and cptsd and the sense that if i have feelings someone is going to die, maybe me, maybe someone else. if i have feelings, i get someone killed, is the thought process, which is a long story but. is extremely hard to work around, especially when i don’t see the point because taking active steps to make my feelings known and make them something someone else has to deal with is like. what’s the point. why do that.

so i don’t know what i feel. i feel strange and distant and not-sad and kind of angry at my sister and brother for some fucking reason and guilty and resentful and relieved. there’s some relief in there i think, because it’s like. i don’t know. i had the thought earlier, ‘oh thank gd’ which is. it sounds heinous but i now i’ll never have to choose between attending my sister’s wedding and not having to see him there, if i go back to my hometown and feel like there’s a monster stalking me from the shadows i can just tell myself the fucking monster’s fucking dead and he can’t ever hurt me again. nobody in my family is ever going to be able to pressure me to just talk to him already, just move on and let it go. reconcile, forgive, get past it.

(i don’t know how much any of them know. i have never discussed this with my parents or my sister and i never plan to. we’ve talked about some things in vague euphemisms and talked around it even more. when he got out of prison and then when he was done stalking us which he did for a while and got some help i guess and was doing a bit better my sister wanted to reconnect with him and i didn’t. i had panic attacks, i was terrified, i didn’t want anything to do with him and i didn’t want my sister anywhere near him and i remember all my mom had to say to me about that was ‘if it makes you feel any better, i could take him.’ i don’t know what to... i just don’t know.)

i dunno. i don’t know. when i visited my hometown and stayed at my parents’ house (my grandmother’s house, when i say ‘parents’ i mean her and my mom generally) i slept with a knife on my bedside table and a plan of how to get out the window because i’d heard that he’d started dropping by sometimes and i was too scared to sleep otherwise. he terrorized me. i have very few memories from before he went to prison and most of them are of being terrified for my life. of being chased through the house, staying above the garage because for some reason we couldn’t be in the house that night. sexual abuse that i can still barely handle thinking about. he haunts my nightmares regularly, even though i haven’t seen or spoken to him in seven years, didn’t see or talk to him very often before that. i have panic attacks in my sleep dreaming about him, enough that i have to be medicated for it.

he’s a person who was deeply troubled and sick and suffered unimaginably in his life and it’s just.... i know all of that and i just. i don’t know. i hope he’s at peace i guess. i know he never was when he was alive. i know i’m not at peace most of the time, largely because of the shit he did to me. i don’t know. i don’t know. my dad’s dead.

[silver-tooth-the-panther]

Half-Demon! Tanjiro AU

Chapter 14:

Doctor’s Notes

Warnings: Discussions of mental health, child abuse, and mental breakdowns

Word Count: 3167

11/27/1923 - First Thoughts

Tomorrow, I will start my therapy sessions with the demons, well now "half-demons." Through careful planning, I've decided to interview Rui first. Reason being that he's a child demon. I don't really hold much animosity towards him since he was probably manipulated by the former king, Muzan Kibutsuji.

In all honesty, I'm not too eager for these sessions. It's not that I think they'll attack me. If they do, I've got my sword always on my hip, so I'll always be ready. No, that's not why. In reality, I just don't believe that they can change. They've eaten humans, so they've tasted blood before. I have no doubt that they'll be hunting for every opportunity to taste blood again. I can understand why Nezuko would be considered redeemed, but these other demons..I don't know.

The only reason why I agreed to this is because I know Tanjiro needs all the help he needs right now. He's stressed out and my disapproval will only make it worse. There are so many odds against him..I just feel like he could use a break. Besides, maybe some good could come out of this. That's what she would've wanted...

Anyways, tomorrow is going to be an interesting day. I'll keep logging in this journal after every session. For now though, I need to get some rest. Let's hope for the best.

Shinobu Kocho

11/28/1923 - My First Session With Rui

When the spider demon walked into my office today, he looked petrified. I immediately crouched down and asked him why. He said that he thought he was going to be scrutinized or even killed. I didn't know that I scared him that badly. Luckily with some quick reassurance, we were able to continue the session.

The first thing I noticed about the pup was that he looked like he was never satisfied with how things were. Specifically, his kimono. Rui constantly adjusted it, even though it fit him just fine. He also adjusted the soft pad I had him sit on. When I asked him why he did what he did, he told me that "it just didn't feel right." He said that he knew that everything was neat, but something told him that it didn't fit right. This was the first piece of his puzzle.

Next, we took a trip down memory lane. I asked him about his life as a human. This was simple enough. He told me that he had two loving parents, but an incredibly weak body. It was so weak that taking a few steps would exhaust him. That's why Muzan came to him. In a way, I can understand why he would accept his offer. As a doctor, I know that he would've only lasted a few more years if he wasn't converted.

Then, he started to grow upset. Rui told me that his parents tried to kill him because of what he was doing to others - eating people - but they were also going to kill themselves to join him. He didn't realize that and killed them in self defense. It all became clear.

Rui wanted to create a family so he could have a loving relationship once more. I unfortunately can relate to that. Wanting your family back after a terrible accident..One thing threw me off though. Rui was incredibly peculiar about the roles of the family. He even went as far as to plan our roles for the siblings, despite not having any siblings himself. Not to mention, the way he described his parents made it seem like they fit in the traditional roles.

When I asked him about this, he said that "If the family didn't work that way, everything would turn to ruin." He seems like he didn't want everything to fall apart again. As I observed him, I noticed that he felt like terrible things would happen if he didn't do something in a specific way every single time. He told me that he always counted to thirty seconds when he's washing his hands. Rui also told me that if things were organized chaotically, the day would be disastrous.

Furthermore, I can tell that all this change is stressing him out. He interchangeably grasps his hands together, showing that he's clearly nervous and upset. I know that a part of the stress was being interviewed by a Hashira, but the other problem was definitely the changes. As of recently though, there has been a discovery in this field that these traits perfectly fit.

Obsessive Compulsive Disorder or OCD seems to be what the pup has. His past of having a feeble body makes it worse. With all the pieces I had, I tried to give him some advice. Since his anxiety seems to be incredibly high, I told him that he should try to rest in the small meadow outside the Infinity Castle. The light from the sun will help to soothe him and going or even playing outside might give him the confidence he needs.

Another thing that was necessary to be aware of were his intrusive thoughts. I told him to be aware of the meanings he's assigning to these thoughts. Rui seems to know that these thoughts are distracting, which is a step forward. So, I told him that he needs to disconnect the meaning behind the thoughts. That's the first step to stopping the compulsions.

Looking back on this, I forgot that Rui was a half-demon when we were talking about his OCD. He talked to me like a human child, not a bloodthirsty monster. The pup was genuinely afraid and somber. Nothing about him showed that he was faking his emotions. For the first session, it surprisingly went well. I know that the others won't be easy, but I do hope that they decide to come in.

Shinobu Kocho

11/30/1923 - The Shabana Siblings

Today, two demon siblings came in upon Tanjiro's request. They were the two Uppermost Six demons, Daki and Gyutaro Shabana. I had asked Uzui about them before this session. Despite of what happened at the Entertainment District, he seemed rather nonchalant about them. He did say that they did have a high temper, so I kept my sword at the ready.

What I got were two calm, yet protective siblings. I guess Tanjiro had worked his magic on them. He must've warmed them slightly, enough to have them discuss their pasts. Speaking of which...

I did not expect the Entertainment District to be that hellish. Tengen has told me before that the place was one of the worst places imaginable, but I didn't grasp the full picture until now. Their story was horrific and it was hard not to feel sympathy for them. Everyone left or beat them....strangers, colleagues, even their parents. All they had was each other.

Once again, I felt myself relating to my patients. I even imagined myself in their shoes. What if my sister and I had been abandoned by everyone? What if we were shunned by everyone who should've shown us kindness? What if the only being that showed us grace..was a demon? Would we end up the same? Was this how Kanao felt?

I didn't expect to feel this way, but I still had a job to fulfill. When they finished their narrative, I asked them how they felt now. Gyutaro seemed to be more at ease with himself. He even said that he made friends with a demon named Kerido. From the look of it though, he seems to feel a stronger affection towards the demon.

Daki, on the other hand, seems to be unsure of who she is. I would say that she was immature for her age, but she was converted at thirteen, so it made sense. I will say though, she has my type of humor. A few chuckles came from me when she started teasing her brother. Very unprofessional, I know. I just couldn't help myself.

After their session, they did seem to be at ease. Maybe having someone to talk to made them feel better. I wish I could do the same...Once again, another strange, calm session. I know it won't be like this forever, so I'm still prepared. Tanjiro telepathically spoke to me a few hours after the session, which felt odd. He told me that the Hantengu clones would be coming in the next few days. I'm not really sure what to expect, but I'm prepared for whatever is in store.

Shinobu Kocho

12/05/1923 - The Hantengu Clones

They all arrived at once, which overwhelmed me at first. Luckily, I was able to organize it rather quickly. I decided to interview them from who I suspected to be the easiest to the most difficult. So, Karaku, the clone of pleasure, was the best choice.

One thing I should add is that I actually had Mitsuri's help with these sessions. She discovered her Blood Demon Art yesterday and we both thought it would be rather useful. Basically, she can create a mist from her heart-shaped marks that soothes everyone who's around her. With no surprise, she came to me and offered her help. I am glad that I'm not the only one who's willing to help with this project.

Karaku wasn't really difficult to work with. He had a rather relaxed personality, which was nice. There was a strange oddity about his past though. He didn't remember hardly anything about his childhood, nor about the crimes that Hantengu had committed during his human life. He vaguely remembered stealing, I guess it gave him some pleasure. Most of his memories come from his teen years and his demon years. This just struck me as odd when we talked.

Another oddity that came up was that Karaku wasn't just his particular emotion. He had a whole personality! Karaku is a very relaxed, laid back, and oddly flirty character, but he's also lazy, slightly whiny, and prideful. I was expecting him to just represent his emotion and that was it, but I got more than I expected. So, I kept my eyes open while having the sessions with the other clones.

Urogi, the clone of joy, was up next. He was surprisingly sweet and, not so surprisingly, hyper. While we were talking, the bird demon couldn't sit still. He rocked back and forth at times and messed with the objects surrounding him at other times. To most people, this may seem like he doesn't care about what your saying. I, on the other hand, beg to differ. Reason being is because when I confronted him about it, he looked rather upset and disappointed in himself. He apologized profusely for it. Clearly, he's been scolded for it before.

Now for what he may have? I do have an idea. A while ago, I remember reading a paper that was written by a British pediatrician in 1902. There, he described an occurrence in certain children that resulted in difficulty focusing, forgetfulness, and hyperactivity. Despite this, the children were still shown to be intelligent. Therefore in my mind, he should not be treated unfairly for his behavior.

Similar to Karaku, he doesn't remember anything from Hantengu's childhood. Instead, Urogi remembers games he played with his friends during his teen years. However, most of his memories are of his demon life. As I expected, Urogi never took any of the fights he had to deal with seriously. He just wanted to play games and have fun. I can understand that.

Along with that, Urogi also mentioned that there has been tension amongst his "brothers", which is how he refers to the clones. When I questioned him, Urogi said that the transformation into Zohakuten is extremely painful, both physically and mentally. During that time, all the clones are flooded with terrible hatred and vague memories of people's wrath.

He told me that Sekido was the one who initiated the transformation. However, Urogi said he understood why Sekido did it, but he wished that they could talk about it. I hope that I can help them with their tension. None of us want them to be torn apart.... It reminds me of someone.

Anyway, I managed to cheer him up by the end-which wasn't hard-and he left with a wide smile on his face. Now I didn't need to have Mitsuri use her abilities for the first two clones, but..we did have to use it for the next clone. Aizetsu, the clone of sorrow, walked in with an emotionally tired expression. I'll be honest. The first time I saw him, I did feel rather sympathetic for him.

This session brought so many pieces to the puzzle. Unlike the other clones, he remembered Hantengu's childhood. Aizetsu spoke softly as he told me the many horror stories from his childhood.

To say that I was sickening would be an understatement. According to Aizetsu, Hentengu lived in a single parent household. That parent being his cruel father. He was an alcoholic, short-tempered man who frequently beat his son whenever he didn't get his way. Hantengu's father threw away any toy that annoyed him and often kept him locked up inside for weeks as "punishment". Dragging his son by the hair, Hantengu's father often convicted him that he was narcissistic for forgetting simple things or didn't do things his way.

Aizetsu trembled as he spoke of fear and sorrow. He remembered craving love and he never received it. His mother was never there, his father was abusive, and he never had any friends. Hantengu feared for his life for he was too weak at the time to do anything about it. That was when Aizetsu broke.

He began to sob into his hands as he recalled all the pain he went through. I immediately tried to soothe him with breathing tactics. This did virtually nothing as he only sobbed harder. Backup was needed. Mitsuri released the mist from her marks. I held his hands as he breathed in the mist.

Just like how Mitsuri described it, Aizetsu was slowly soothed. He wiped away his tears as his breathing slowly regained normality. As his therapist, I had to help him. With a soft voice, I told him that he doesn't have to worry anymore. No one will hurt him here. He was safe.

Aizetsu smiled at me as he listened. He told me that he was never really a fighter. Whenever they were called for battle, he never wanted to actually hurt anyone. Honestly, I can see that. The way he acts is incredibly gentle and soft. I wasn't surprised by any of this news. However, he did confirm what Urogi was saying, except he felt the pain on a much larger scale.

I'm not going to lie. I was rather tense as I called Sekido, the clone of anger, into the office. I was apprehensive from the very beginning, but the fact that Zohakuten causes so much pain on his brothers makes me distrustful of him. However, I'm his therapist, so I have to be open minded.

The session started out calmly enough. He answered my basic questions with no attitude or ill-temper. Then..I asked him about his past. That's when his temper began to rise. Sekido cursed about his father. White Aizetsu's memories were more in the moment, Sekido's memories were the vengeful aftermath. He spoke with pure hate for that man. I can't say I blame him..

When Hentengu grew into his early teen years, he began resisting against his father's beatings. Sekido came to tear this man apart. That was his first murder. This might sound cruel to say, but I would've done the same. This is where things took an even darker turn.

Sekido was the only clone that remembered the murders. He told me that he needed to kill those people to protect Hantengu. They made him feel weak. They made him feel used. However, this was when he lost his temper.

He rose up from his seat and roared with fury. Sekido vented about how much pain he and his brothers went through and cursed us for trying to kill them. One line in particular stuck with me. "How dare you assume that we're monsters when you don't even bother to understand why we are the way we are?!" This not only applies to us, but it also applied to his father as well.

Mitsuri released her mist to quickly calm him down. With the mist and some affirmation, Sekido calmed down and we resumed the session. He apologized for losing his temper and explained that he's been apprehensive from the very beginning. With all this information, I've come to a shocking revelation.

The clones are Hantengu's different personalities. They each have selective memories and they seemed to be formed for certain purposes. Urogi and Karaku were meant to help Hantengu be happy with no guilt or fear behind his eyes. Aizetsu internalizes all the guilt and suffering that his father inflicted on him. Sekido was the source of protection and a defense mechanism.

This man was deeply wounded as a child. I'm not trying to excuse what he did, but he really was unaware of his actions until it was too late. It really was his hands that killed those people. With the selective memory, I can understand why Sekido killed them. He thought that they were trying to attack him and his brothers. In that way, I can understand him..I can relate to him.

Shinobu Kocho

12/06/1923 - Final Thoughts For Now

I don't know what to feel anymore. In all honesty, I expected to roll my eyes at their stories. I thought they would prove themselves to be the monsters I thought they were. What I found though were stories more human than I could ever imagine. I found myself relating to them, which scared me at first. However, I have come to acknowledge the truth of the situation.

We demon slayers were hurt by demons. Therefore, we hurt them. Demons, on the other hand, were hurt by humans. Thus, they hurt us. This isn't a battle between good and evil-as I originally thought-but it was a civil war between two groups of broken people. Every few of the beings in that war were good or evil. We were all broken, attacking each other in the name of revenge.

I thought...that extermination was the only solution-especially after Kanae died-but I can't say the same after listening to the demon's tales. I know that I might sound crazy. I know that I might get hurt later, but I genuinely believe now that this is the best way to go. There are some that I'm still skeptical of, but I will keep a open mind.I will continue these sessions and see how the half-demons grow over time. This war has to end and I believe that this is the best way to end it.

Shinobu Kocho

Author's Note: Yes, this is written in first person. I thought that this would be more impactful for Shinobu's character development. I did do research for this, so I hope that this is accurate representation! Sorry for not updating, I've been constantly sick. I do hope you enjoy this though!

[silvfyre-writings]

Fukuzawa Becomes a Dad (BSD Fanfic)

So uh, hi, I never thought I'd be writing a fic for BSD in my life considering I have not read the manga and I usually make it my personal policy to not write fics when I'm not up to date, cause ya know, important things I don't know. But then I binge watched the anime, and fell in love with the dynamic between Fukuzawa and Ranpo (season 4's beginning made me feeeeeel) and so I wrote this. In 4 days.

Word Count: 12,927

Fukuzawa had gone to work that day, expecting to complete his job as a bodyguard, just as he’d always done without any problems. It had been a windy day, and his client had been murdered, but that was okay; these things happened and even he failed at his job sometimes.

What he hadn’t expected was the unpredictable whirlwind that was Edogawa Ranpo. The fourteen-year-old orphan had quickly latched onto Fukuzawa’s presence—despite his best efforts to deter said boy—and Fukuzawa found himself being dragged through one of the most eventful nights of his life in a long time.

A long time.

And he was tired.

Fukuzawa let out a sigh, lifting one hand to rest it on top of Ranpo’s head, the boys’ tears and muffled apologies never ending, almost as if the poor boy thought that Fukuzawa was going to up and abandon him like everyone else had. Fukuzawa ran his hand through the choppy strands of black hair, ignoring the way Ranpo’s cries grew stronger at the motion. It was clear to him that it was no longer about the scolding he’d given the boy, nor was it about the close brush with death he’d just experienced; it was something much deeper, something that Fukuzawa didn’t quite understand because he didn’t yet understand Ranpo.

But he wasn’t one to just ignore a crying child, so he patiently stood there, letting Ranpo cling to him and sob into his chest, doing his best to ignore how damp his yukata was becoming, tears and snot melding together with the fabric. He’d just have to throw them in the wash when he got home.

Home.

Something that Ranpo didn’t have the luxury of, Fukuzawa remembered. He recalled what Ranpo had told him back at the café, a morning that seemed so long ago now, about the death of his parents, the jobs he’d had and subsequently been fired from, and everything else that had gone wrong in his life since coming to Yokohama.

“I have nowhere to go.”

Fukuzawa let out another sigh, the noise producing a whimper from Ranpo, small arms tightening their grip on him. A few tears still leaked from the boys eyes, but it looked as if the worst of the breakdown was over, yet Ranpo still kept his face buried in his chest, unmoving, and clearly waiting for the silence to be broken—or for Fukuzawa to just toss him away like a piece of trash, which Fukuzawa had no intention of doing. It was hard to tell what Ranpo was thinking normally, let alone in the current situation. He didn’t know if he should offer words of comfort, or if he should just keep quiet and let Ranpo sort through his emotions on his own. In the end, he chose to keep silent; words weren’t really his forte to begin with, and Ranpo was already in a fragile enough state.

The grip on the back of his yukata loosened, and Fukuzawa waited for Ranpo to pull away, only have the boy slump against him, his honed reflexes the only reason that Ranpo didn’t fall straight to the ground. Fukuzawa frowned, his heart beating faster because had Ranpo been injured and he hadn’t realized? He brushed back Ranpo’s bangs, the motion enough to coax Ranpo into looking up at him with half-lidded eyes, and splotchy cheeks.

“Tired…” Ranpo murmured, dropping his head again.

Fukuzawa nodded even though it wouldn’t be seen. “Alright. Let’s go then.”

“… nowhere to go.”

“You can stay with me tonight. We’ll work out things in the morning.” Fukuzawa said, dropping down so that he could lift Ranpo into his arms easier. It was strange, an action Fukuzawa had never seen himself performing, yet in the moment, it felt right. Ranpo’s arms draped over his shoulders, and his head came to rest in the crook of his neck. There were no protests from Ranpo at being treated like a small child, and a quick glance showed that the boy had already closed his eyes.

Fukuzawa sighed once again, this time with no response from Ranpo, and carefully maneuvered the both of them so that he could pick up the fallen glasses he’d given Ranpo, and also Ranpo’s hat. Once both items were secured, he turned and left the room, knowing that the moment he stepped outside of the building, his life wouldn’t be the same again.

The next problem came in the form of Fukuzawa’s apartment itself; a simple one bedroom, one bathroom accommodation that was more than suitable for himself and his few belongings, but most certainly not suitable for a growing teenage boy—if Ranpo ended up staying with him long term in the end. Still, it would do for tonight at least, and then, after talking to Ranpo, he could look into other options. Quietly, Fukuzawa opened the door, even though he needn’t have bothered, for Ranpo hadn’t moved an inch since he’d fallen asleep in Fukuzawa’s arms. It was just another sign that the boy was thoroughly exhausted—as if the patch of drool dampening his collar wasn’t enough of an indicator.

Thank god for washing machines.

Once inside, Fukuzawa kicked off his sandals, and dropped Ranpo’s hat and glasses onto the table in the entryway, before pulling the sleeping boy’s own shoes off and dropping them to the ground. How he managed to succeed without waking Ranpo—or dropping him—Fukuzawa didn’t know, and wouldn’t question. He was a skilled swordsman, a former assassin, and a well accomplished body guard; he didn’t drop things. However, carrying a sword, or a person over his shoulder was another thing entirely when compared to carrying a sleeping teen like he was still a toddler. Not that Ranpo was particularly tall for his age; in fact, he was rather on the small side. Yet still very much a child.

A child that had had a gun pointed at his head not even an hour ago.

Fukuzawa couldn’t stop the shudder from running through him at the memory. A gun. Pointed at a fourteen-year-old boy. If Fukuzawa had been even one second too late, Ranpo would’ve died, a horrifying sight to imagine, and something that the genius child hadn’t seemed to understand at the time until Fukuzawa had slapped some sense into him… behaviour that he truly regretted now. It was never right to raise a hand to a child, not even one as frustrating as Ranpo. Even if it had gotten his point across in the end, it very well could’ve damaged the tentative trust that Ranpo had placed in him, and driven the boy away from him instead of towards.

What am I going to do with you? Fukuzawa thought, stepping silently through his home towards his room. Tonight, Ranpo could sleep on his futon whilst Fukuzawa took the couch. He eyed the couch distastefully; it was a truly horrid thing—barely even a couch. But it had been cheap and provided something for him to sit and work on, and that was all that had mattered at the time when he’d purchased it. Tomorrow, he could look into getting a second futon and clearing some space so that Ranpo had somewhere at least.

It took far longer than it should’ve to get Ranpo settled, the boy subconsciously clinging to him when he’d tried to lay him on the futon, refusing to uncurl his fist from where he clutched desperately at Fukuzawa’s yukata. But finally, he succeeded, and he pulled the blanket over Ranpo’s sleeping form before leaving the room—leaving the door slightly ajar just in case the boy needed him during the night—and making himself as comfortable as possible on the couch.

It was going to be a long night.

“Fukuzawa-san… Fukuzawa-san… Fuku—”

“What, Ranpo?” Fukuzawa said, trying his best to keep the irritation out of his voice, even though he wanted nothing more than to tie Ranpo to a pole and leave him there just to get a few hours of quiet.

Which he wouldn’t do, because he’d promised Ranpo he’d take care of him.

But he could dream.

“I’m hungry.”

This time, Fukuzawa couldn’t stop the irritated huff from slipping through. Not that it seemed to bother Ranpo in the slightest. “You just ate.”

“Yeah, but, I’m hungry.” Ranpo repeated as if saying the same thing again was going to elicit a different response. As if being as annoying a humanly possible was going to make Fukuzawa cave and let him have his way, when Fukuzawa knew exactly what it was that Ranpo wanted from him.

He wasn’t going to give in.

He wasn’t going to give in.

He was—

“… there’s a bakery up ahead. We can get something there.”—going to give in. Damn, he was getting soft. It had only been a month since Ranpo had come into his care, even though it felt much, much, longer. If anyone from the time he had wielded his sword could see him now, he guaranteed that they wouldn’t recognize him one bit in his current state. Hell, there were times where he couldn’t recognize himself either, and if anyone had ever told him he’d be trading his sword in for a child, he’d have laughed at them. Yet here he was, without a sword, and a child following behind him.

But as Ranpo beamed at him, throwing his arms into the air at his victory as he dashed ahead to the bakery in question, Fukuzawa could do nothing but shake his head fondly at the antics. In just a month; a singular month, Ranpo had managed to weasel himself into Fukuzawa’s life as if he’d always been a part of it, eating all his food and emptying his wallet like it was his own. The intelligence that the boy pertained was truly remarkable; the way he could simply look at a crime scene and deduce who the killer was and how, almost instantaneously, was always jaw dropping to see. And it wasn’t just the mysteries of crime scenes either; anything with a plot hidden behind closed doors wasn’t safe. Which of course meant that trying to entertain Ranpo with movies or books was pointless; the boy had already figured out the plot within the first five minutes. The best Fukuzawa had been able to do was keep up a steady pile of snacks and sweets for Ranpo to eat so he didn’t spoil the experiences for everyone around him.

Needless to say, Fukuzawa was soon to be out of a job, since Ranpo kept solving the cases of the people he was hired to protect. Not that he was overly bothered by that fact, since it meant he could turn his focus towards the brief idea that he’d had back at the theatre that day; of a—

“Fukuzawa-san.” Ranpo’s voice ended his train of thought and he blinked down at the boy. They were standing out the front of the bakery, Ranpo tilting his head to the side. “You’re thinking too hard.”

“It need not concern you.” Fukuzawa said, for right now, Ranpo truly didn’t need to worry about what he was thinking. “Hurry up and pick something out, we have a job to get to.”

“You mean, I have a job, right?” Ranpo asked.

“Yes, Ranpo, you have the job. I am merely your protection.” Fukuzawa sighed, already pulling his wallet out as Ranpo began to list off the obnoxious number of sweets he wanted. I should just buy the bakery at this point.

“Ha! Did you see that woman’s face when called her out? She really should’ve thought it through better if she didn’t want to get caught. Even a pre-schooler could’ve figured it out!” Fukuzawa was half-listening to Ranpo ramble about the woman he’d just gotten arrested for murdering her best friend, a murder that a pre-schooler most certainly could not have solved. Not that Ranpo seemed to understand that it was only him that had been able to see the truth in the end; not even the police had been able to figure it out properly, most of them still looking confused about what had just happened, yet accepting Ranpo’s words for what they were. Just another day with Ranpo. Fukuzawa hadn’t even been needed, only tagging along in the first place to make sure that Ranpo didn’t get lost, and that no one targeted the boy.

He'd tried teaching Ranpo some defensive moves not long after taking the boy in, but his efforts were in vain. Ranpo had about as much fight sense as a newborn calf, and after a fall that had nearly broken his nose, Fukuzawa had simply resigned himself to protecting Ranpo himself.

Which had been so far successful; touch wood.

“You did well, Ranpo.” Fukuzawa praised, dipping his head in acknowledgement.

Ranpo’s face lit up. “Do I get a reward?”

“You’ll have to wait until you get paid, I’m afraid, unless you want to be eating dust for dinner.” Fukuzawa said, his words a reminder that their funds were stretched a bit thin at the moment, on account of moving into a bigger home; still small by most people’s standards, it gave Ranpo his own room and that was the main thing.

Ranpo’s face fell. “Oh. We shouldn’t have moved then.”

Fukuzawa sighed. “You needed your own space, Ranpo, the old place was too small for us both to reside in long term. And you like the new place.” Left unsaid was the fact that Fukuzawa himself had wanted a room of his own again, since Ranpo had refused to sleep on the couch after doing it for just one night; something that he didn’t really blame the boy for doing. It truly had been an awful couch.

Mostly, Fukuzawa just wanted some privacy.

There was nothing more terrifying than waking up to a face inches away from his own, loudly demanding breakfast before he starved to death.

“Yeah, but like, I’ll die without my snacks.” Ranpo complained, looking around the street as they walked, eyes open for a change. “Are you sure we can’t get just one thing?”

It’s a trap. Fukuzawa thought, refusing to give in to Ranpo’s pleas. “No, Ranpo, we have food at home. You’ll just have to wait until we get back.”

Ranpo groaned, throwing his head back dramatically, mouth open with a complaint on the tip of his tongue. Fukuzawa waited for the begging and whining to begin when suddenly, something caught Ranpo’s attention, the boy coming to a stop. Pausing beside his ward, Fukuzawa stared at Ranpo, wondering just what was going through the boy’s mind when he sprinted towards the stairs that led to a street that Fukuzawa knew, had a sweet shop on it, calling over his shoulder. “At least let me look!”

“Ranpo, wait!” Fukuzawa called, watching as time seemed to slow around him.

Ranpo tripped at the top of the stairs before he could stop himself.

Fukuzawa lunged towards Ranpo, hand outstretched, even as he knew he wouldn’t make it in time, watching as Ranpo disappeared from view. “Ranpo!” He came to a stop at the top of the stairs, watching as Ranpo tumbled down the stairs, coming to a halt at the platform halfway down. Fukuzawa stared, heart pounding in his chest as Ranpo lay there, green eyes wide as they looked up at him. He’s fine, he’s fine, probably just a little winded. He’s fine, he’s—

Ranpo wailed.

—not fine. Fukuzawa flew down the remaining stairs, falling into a crouch beside Ranpo as the boy curled up into a ball. Tears were falling from Ranpo’s eyes at an alarming pace, his body shaking with each sob, and one arm was being held protectively by the other. These tears were not like the ones from that night where Fukuzawa had scolded his charge, no, these were the kind of tears that came when one was hurting, and hurting bad. Fukuzawa ran his eyes over Ranpo’s body, scanning for any signs of blood, and thankful when he found none. Still, it had been a bad fall, and Ranpo very much could’ve hit his head on the way down. He rested a hand on Ranpo’s shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze to try and encourage the boy to look at him. "Ranpo, can you tell me if you hit your head?”

Ranpo only cried even harder.

A little bit of panic seeped into Fukuzawa’s being, along with discomfort as a crowd began to form around the two of them; said crowd no doubt causing Ranpo even more distress as the muttered and whispered amongst each other. Not one person stepped forward to offer assistance. “Tch.” Injuries weren’t something that Fukuzawa was accustomed to dealing with, since most of the time, injuries received in his line of work—and previous occupations—were fatal. This was all new territory to him, and for once, he didn’t know what to do.

Stop. Breathe. Think. It was obvious that Ranpo had hurt himself bad, considering that any attempt Fukuzawa made to soothe the boy was met with more wailing. The way that Ranpo was cradling his arm was a pretty clear indicator that that was the source of his pain, although Fukuzawa couldn’t see anything immediately wrong with the limb. But just because he couldn’t see anything didn’t mean that there wasn’t something wrong with it. Broken bones were quite the invisible enemy—aside from when they obviously weren’t—and Ranpo’s fall certainly could’ve broken something.

“Sir, do you need an ambulance?” An elderly gentleman broke free of the crowd, coming to crouch beside Fukuzawa.

“No.” Fukuzawa said, even though he was one second away from dialling the number himself. Yes, Ranpo needed the hospital, but Fukuzawa could get him there himself, just so long as he was careful. “I’m going to take him to the hospital now.”

“Would you like a ride then, sir? My car is just parked at the bottom. You’ll get there quicker.” The old man offered.

It only took a second for Fukuzawa to come to a decision.

“That would be appreciated, thank you.”

Fukuzawa watched with careful eyes as the doctor carefully manipulated Ranpo’s arm into the desired position for a cast; Ranpo leaning heavily against him, staring unseeingly at the floor. The drive to the hospital had been fast, as the gentleman had promised, but also stressful as Ranpo had cried the whole way, his face buried into Fukuzawa’s chest. No words had been said, but none needed to be. It was obvious that Ranpo was frightened about what had happened, and wasn’t quite sure what was going to happen next. All Fukuzawa could do in that moment was hold Ranpo close and wipe away his tears as they fell.

The verdict had been a broken arm—specifically, a broken elbow and a snapped wrist.

The doctor had called Ranpo lucky, after hearing about the fall that had caused the injury, telling Fukuzawa that while the breaks were bad, there was no need for surgery. A small win, in the grand scheme of things, although the news had still been upsetting to Ranpo. Thankfully, all that was needed was a cast to protect the injured limb, and many weeks of rest, which hopefully, Fukuzawa would be able to convince Ranpo to do.

But first they needed to actually get out of the hospital.

By the time the doctors had finished with all the scans and x-rays, Ranpo had stopped crying—which reminded Fukuzawa that he needed to apologize to the poor reception staff that had to deal with Ranpo’s loud cries in the emergency room as he’d dashed through the doors—but when the doctor had come by to wrap Ranpo’s arm, grabbing it gently, Ranpo had flinched. Hard. Which of course, jostled his broken arm, and the cries that had followed were deafening, and no amount of soothing and reassurances had been enough to get Ranpo calm enough to allow the doctor to finish the job.

Eventually, after several failed attempts, the doctor had resorted to giving Ranpo a mild sedative, leading them to their current situation. Fukuzawa had one arm wrapped around Ranpo’s waist, so that the boy didn’t fall off the bed, and his other hand was soothingly running through black hair. Ranpo didn’t seem to be aware of his surroundings, but whether that was the shock running through him or the sedative, Fukuzawa couldn’t tell. Either way, it was a small mercy if it meant that there would be no more tears.

“I just need to grab the supplies from the next room. Can you hold his arm there for me?” The doctor said, waiting for Fukuzawa’s hand to replace his own before leaving the room, returning seconds later like he’d promised and got to work. “In a week, you’ll need to come back so we can see how the bones are healing, and that’s when we’ll replace this cast with something a little more colorful if that’s what young Ranpo would like.”

Fukuzawa nodded, making a mental note to remember to return. “Worst case scenario?”

“Worst case is that the bones are showing signs of healing incorrectly, which means we would have to perform surgery to correct it.” The doctor explained. “It’s not a life-threatening surgery by all means, but it does mean a longer recovery time. But it’s only a small number of cases that are worst case. I’m confident that the arm will mend itself properly.”

“Thank you.” Fukuzawa said. “And, apologies for the disturbance we caused in the waiting room.”

“Oh, don’t worry about that. He’s not the first kid that’s come through screaming like a banshee with a broken limb, and he won’t be the last. Is this his first break?”

“I believe so. He came into my care just last month.” Fukuzawa wanted to argue that Ranpo had not been screaming like a banshee, but the argument soon died on his lips when he realized that while no, Ranpo had not been screaming, he had certainly been loud enough for the comparison to be made. It had almost been enough to make Fukuzawa turn around and try to treat the injury himself.

The doctor nodded, letting the silence grow in favour of completing his work as fast as possible; probably before Ranpo’s awareness returned. Fukuzawa was content to watch the process, although as the cast took shape, he couldn’t help but frown. It didn’t look very comfortable. “This is my first time dealing with such an injury. Is there anything I should know?” He asked.

The doctor hummed. “Well, don’t let it get wet. If it does need to go near water, then wrap it in some plastic—just make sure it’s watertight. And I’d keep something long and thin on hand as well. Casts can make the wearers rather itchy. Most people use knitting needles I’ve found, although a ruler works just as well. And obviously, don’t let him use the arm, even if he says it doesn’t hurt.”

Fukuzawa nodded, filing the information away for later. He certainly didn’t have any knitting needles at home, but he was sure he had a ruler somewhere in his home that Ranpo would be able to use.

“Fukuzawa-san?” Ranpo’s hoarse voice had him looking down into eyes that were slowly filling with tears again. Oh no. “It hurts.”

“I know, Ranpo, I know.” Fukuzawa ran a hand up and down Ranpo’s back, hoping to soothe him a little before the crying could start up again. “We’ll be home soon, and then you can rest.” He turned his attention to the doctor. “Is he allowed painkillers?”

The doctor nodded. “Over the counter medicine is fine, but we’ll send you home with something a little stronger just for the first couple of days.”

“Can I go home yet…?” Ranpo asked, a sniffle accompanying his words.

“Yep! I’ll all done, kiddo, so I’ll draw up the paperwork and then you can head home. Get plenty of rest, and no more running near stairs, eh?”

The doctors’ words drew a weak and watery smile from Ranpo, and the boy nodded. “Okay.”

“Six weeks? What am I going to do for six whole weeks?” Ranpo complained, currently attacking the cast on his arm with some markers that Fukuzawa had bought on the way home. Apparently the white colour of the cast was offensive, but to whom, Fukuzawa had no idea, and he had no plans of asking; simply following Ranpo’s directions into buying something colourful to put on the cast. He was just glad that Ranpo was feeling well enough to complain about his situation, the painkillers the doctor had given him before they’d left doing their job. Ranpo suddenly looked up at him. “I can still work, right? It’s not like I need my arm to solve cases.”

“The doctor told you to rest, and that means no work.” Fukuzawa didn’t want to admit that while Ranpo’s words were true, and that he didn’t need his arm to solve crime, he simply didn’t want Ranpo to somehow end up injured further; criminals were unpredictable when cornered after all.

“But we need money. You were complaining about being poor before I fell, which is half the reason I fell in the first place anyway.”

Fukuzawa’s eye twitched. “You did not fall because of lack of money. You fell because you refused to take ‘no’ for an answer and tried to go off on your own. And as for money, we’ll be fine. I can pick up some work while you recover.”

“And, what? Leave me here all alone? No thanks.”

Fukuzawa sighed, but dropped the discussion before it could become an argument. He could tell from the way Ranpo had tensed up that the issue wasn’t because the kid would get bored if he was left behind, but from the fact that Ranpo feared if Fukuzawa left without him, he wouldn’t return. It was something they’d have to work on in the future, but for now it could wait. Instead, he sought to reassure Ranpo. “You just focus on healing. Let me worry about everything else.”

Ranpo nodded, looking like he wanted to say something else, but unable to find the words. A first for the boy that could look you dead in the eyes and bare your deepest and darkest secrets to the world like they were common knowledge. But Fukuzawa was nothing if not a patient man, so he continued to sit quietly in his chair and waited.

After another minute or so of silence, Ranpo lifted his head and held out one of the markers towards him. “Here.”

Fukuzawa blinked, not quite understanding what it was that Ranpo was asking of him.

“Ugh, are you stupid, come and help me turn this ugly white plaster into something better.” Ranpo waved the marker around dramatically. Fukuzawa couldn’t help but roll his eyes, even as he eased himself onto the floor and took the marker from Ranpo’s hands.

One year into taking care with Ranpo, Fukuzawa was confident that he could handle Ranpo efficiently and effectively. It was quite simple really when one gave it some thought; Ranpo was a person that snacked rather than ate actual meals, so keeping up a steady supply of snack foods was a must—although convincing him to eat at least one meal a day had been a long, hard battle that Fukuzawa had ultimately emerged the victor of. Ranpo was also someone who became destructive when bored, and Fukuzawa was amazed that the apartment they called home hadn’t erupted into flames from yet another baking experiment Ranpo had tried when he’d stepped out of the house for just a couple of hours. The solution to that was to try and keep his mind occupied. Try being the key word there, since Ranpo was a genius and he figured out things in a matter of seconds. Fukuzawa had managed to get a hold of some novels from foreign authors—ones that revolved around mysteries of course—letting Ranpo work his way through them, even if he wasn’t familiar with the language they were written in.

It had been strange to come home to an quiet house, Ranpo on the couch with his nose stuck in a book. Fukuzawa couldn’t remember the name of the author, only remembering how Ranpo had gushed about the genius way of writing mysteries this author accomplished. He faintly recalled that the name was similar to Ranpo’s own name, but he’d been more focused on Ranpo sitting still at the time.

If he ever met the author of those books though, then Fukuzawa would be sure to thank them.

Fukuzawa had heard from other parents that had raised teenagers—he’d sought out some help from some kind mothers after Ranpo had gotten upset at being stuck at home when he’d broken his arm; the kind women offering all kinds of advice for dealing with teenagers, advice he wasn’t sure he could really apply to Ranpo, but still appreciated all the same—that teens were supposed to be difficult and hard to manage, always arguing with authority figures and pushing boundaries. And while Ranpo liked to test his patience at times, the teen was more than content to hang around by his side. There’d been one day, where Fukuzawa had suggested maybe finding Ranpo a hobby so he could make friends his own age, and the look of contempt he’d received in response had been enough for him to never bring that discussion up again.

All in all, Ranpo was a rather easy child to look after, but only once you’d taken the time and effort to actually understand him.

That didn’t mean that Ranpo wasn’t without faults of course, and neither was Fukuzawa as they navigated this difficult journey that was parenting, together. There were many a times where Fukuzawa had yelled because Ranpo had pushed all his buttons in just the right way, leaving Ranpo shying away from him, even after he’d apologized. And there were times where Ranpo would sulk and become the very definition of a ‘terrible teen’, usually after being denied some kind of sweet after he’d already eaten more than enough sweets to last a lifetime. But they were just small things, bumps in the road that with some communication, could easily be navigated about.

It was the larger bumps, that were more like gaping holes in the road, that became increasingly difficult to navigate. Those larger bumps usually lasted the entire day—sometimes several—and there was nothing to do but wait for them to pass. There were days where Fukuzawa could only remember the sheer amount of blood he’d spilt in his past, seeing red wherever he looked, and would be terrified to touch Ranpo at all, in fear of hurting the boy and adding more blood to his hands. Which of course, set Ranpo off into thinking, despite how illogical it was, that Fukuzawa had finally grown tired of him and would soon abandon him, and he’d try to get closer to Fukuzawa, which, honestly, just made things worse for the both of them. They’d managed to come to a compromise of sorts on those days, where Fukuzawa would wear something tied around his wrist, so that Ranpo could grab onto it when he needed reassurance, and Fukuzawa could avoid physical contact until he was ready for it.

Then there were the days where Ranpo would not speak. At all. He wouldn’t even leave his room, no matter what Fukuzawa tried to bribe him with. Sometimes, Ranpo could be coaxed into the living room and onto the couch, but still, he wouldn’t make a sound. Those days, Fukuzawa had no idea what to do, as none of the parenting knowledge he’d gained over the past year could’ve prepared him for days where the child he’d taken in would just lay there as if he was a mere corpse. The best Fukuzawa had been able to do was to sit in Ranpo’s room by his bedside and read aloud, or sit them both on the couch and watch a random children’s movie; things that didn’t require much thought, for Ranpo at least. Those days, Ranpo’s thoughts were closed off to everyone but himself, private and only for him to know, and Fukuzawa could only sit by his side and wait for him to return.

But it had been a week of having a silent Ranpo around the house, and Fukuzawa was starting to get concerned.

There was never anything that triggered these days in his ward, at least none he could identify, but they usually never lasted more than a day, so Fukuzawa figured it was fine for him to start worrying. Everyone had bad days, but this had become more than just a bad day at this point. Right now, Ranpo was sitting at the table, slowly working his way through a piece of fruit. It was almost dinner time, and it was the first thing Ranpo had eaten all day, but unlike the previous days where Fukuzawa had had to practically force Ranpo into eating, Ranpo had emerged from his room all on his own, taken the banana, and sat at the table.

It was the perfect opportunity to observe his ward. Fukuzawa studied Ranpo’s slumped posture, the heavy bags under his eyes, and the slight glaze to his eyes; all indicators of lack of sleep. Not that Fukuzawa was unaware that Ranpo wasn’t sleeping. He was a light sleeper, so he often woke during the night to the sound of footsteps wandering the apartment at ridiculous hours, often before he’d hear the television flick on and the noise filtered towards his room. The first night this had happened, Fukuzawa had told Ranpo that he could come to him if he needed to, but so far, Ranpo hadn’t taken him up on his offer.

Silently, Fukuzawa climbed to his feet and moved towards the kitchen, going through the motions of making some hot chocolate, a drink that he knew was soothing to the boy at his table. He didn’t know if Ranpo would even drink it, but he hoped that by giving him the beverage, it would remind Ranpo that he wasn’t alone in dealing with whatever demons it was that plagued him.

Once Fukuzawa was done, he placed the drink in front of Ranpo, and was surprised when the boy’s head tilted up to look at him. No words were said, but Fukuzawa could see the faint gratitude hidden behind the exhaustion, and Ranpo silently wrapped his hands around the cup and drew it closer.

Progress.

That night, Fukuzawa lay on his futon, thinking about what he could do to try and help Ranpo, when he heard his door creak open, soft footsteps making their way towards him. Fukuzawa didn’t move, didn’t breathe, until a figure that could only be Ranpo dropped into his line of sight. And he looked miserable. There were dried tear tracks on the boy’s cheeks, and his hair was sticking up all over the place, like he’d been tossing and turning. A sniffle, and a single tear ran down Ranpo’s cheek, and Fukuzawa wordlessly lifted his blanket. Ranpo stared at him for a moment before crawling underneath the covers, burying his face into Fukuzawa’s chest. Fukuzawa dropped the blanket and closed his eyes. No words were said, but none needed to be.

The next night, Fukuzawa didn’t sleep, only because a devastating crash had him bolting out of the room to find Ranpo slumped against the kitchen cabinets with the shattered remains of a glass around him. Ranpo’s entire body had been shaking as his breaths shuddered in and out like he was being strangled as he stared with unseeing eyes at the mess on the floor. Fukuzawa hadn’t said a word, only wrapping Ranpo in his arms and holding him until he’d calmed enough to fall into a restless slumber. Fukuzawa had put the kid to bed and cleaned up the glass.

The third night was when it all came to a head, when a terrifying scream echoed throughout the apartment. In a split second, Fukuzawa had jumped to his feet and run to the source of the scream; Ranpo’s room. A quick scan of the room showed that it was just Ranpo and him, and that Ranpo was still very much asleep as he thrashed about his bedding, whimpers and soft pleas escaping him. Fukuzawa dropped to the floor beside the boy.

“Ranpo! Ranpo!” He called, reaching out a hand to shake Ranpo.

Ranpo’s eyes flew open, and one hand desperately reached to clutch at Fukuzawa’s sleeve as he shot upright, doubling over just a moment later as he retched. Thankfully, nothing came up, but it still tore at Fukuzawa’s heart to see Ranpo in such a state. Why hadn’t he realized that Ranpo had been having nightmares this whole time? “It’s okay, you’re safe. You are safe. Just breathe, Ranpo, breathe.” Fukuzawa soothed, running a hand through Ranpo’s hair to get it out of his face. “You had a nightmare. You aren’t hurt, you are safe.”

“S-Safe?” Ranpo breathed.

“Safe.” Fukuzawa was firm, as he needed to be in the current situation. Firmness would show Ranpo that his words were true and to be trusted; anything else was liable to send the boy into another panic, and that wasn’t what Fukuzawa wanted.

The effects of the nightmare were quickly fading, although Ranpo remained coiled with tension, with the occasional tremor running through his body. But his breathing was no longer fast and panicked, and his eyes were clearing as the last remains of sleep left him. With one deep breath, Ranpo slumped against Fukuzawa. “Don’t go.”

“I won’t.” Fukuzawa promised. “Let’s go wash your face and get a change of clothes, and then I’ll make us some hot chocolate?”

Ranpo’s fists tightened on the sheets, only to relax as he nodded. Fukuzawa stood, guiding Ranpo up with a gentle grip on his arm, and together they moved from the bedroom to the bathroom in silence, where Fukuzawa stood guard as Ranpo washed the sweat from his face, and now, exhaustion was the only sign that a nightmare had just occurred. The silence continued as Ranpo changed out of his sweat-drenched clothing, and was still ongoing as Fukuzawa made a drink for the both of them, Ranpo sitting on the couch, waiting.

“Would you like to talk about it?” Fukuzawa asked as he sat beside Ranpo, handing the boy the warm mug before taking a sip from his own.

Ranpo shook his head, and then nodded. Another shake of his head, and finally, a shrug. “I don’t know.” The boy finally whispered; his voice almost swallowed by the darkness of the room.

“That’s okay.”

The mug in his hand was warm, and Fukuzawa turned his attention to it. It wasn’t often that he had hot chocolate, only really drinking it once Ranpo had come into his care and demanded it of him. “How can you not have hot chocolate in this place? It’s like, the best drink you can get, other than ramune of course!” So, Fukuzawa had gone out the next day and bought what he needed to make the beverage, and it had been worth it to see Ranpo look so excited. Now it was more of a comfort drink, only really coming out whenever one—or both—of them needed something soothing to drink. Sometimes, it was tea, but most of the times, the chocolate won out.

“It was my parents.” Ranpo’s voice broke the silence after what felt like hours. “The nightmare that is. It’s… it’s close to the date they died.”

That wasn’t what Fukuzawa had been expecting, but then again, he had never asked much about Ranpo’s parents other than what they’d been like, and their names. He knew they’d died in an accident, but Ranpo had never elaborated on the topic, and Fukuzawa had never pushed for an answer. Still, it made sense for Ranpo to struggle when it came close to the anniversary of their deaths; from what he knew, they hadn’t been dead long, and Ranpo probably hadn’t been able to process the grief from then properly on account of needing to find a job to survive.

The past week and a half of silence suddenly made perfect sense.

“I see. Is there something I can do?” Fukuzawa asked, even though he knew what the answer was going to be.

Ranpo shook his head. “Not really. This happened last time too. It’ll pass.”

But you shouldn’t have to suffer alone. Fukuzawa found himself thinking. Then, an idea came to him. “Would it help if you went to visit them? Their graves, I mean.”

Ranpo’s head turned to face him, eyes widening. There was a glimmer of hope in those green orbs, but it quickly faded, replaced with a defeated look. “We have work, though.”

Fukuzawa neglected to bring up the fact that they hadn’t done any work in nearly two weeks because of Ranpo’s melancholy, knowing that it would only make the boy feel worse than he already did. “Work can wait. Your wellbeing is much more important. So, if you wish to visit your parents, we can go. But only if you want to.”

“I do.” Ranpo said quickly. There was a brief pause before, “tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow.” Fukuzawa promised. He placed his empty mug on the coffee table in front of him and turned to face Ranpo. “Do you wish to stay with me tonight?”

“Is that alright?”

“I wouldn’t have offered if it wasn’t.”

Ranpo nodded, and got up when Fukuzawa did, following him to the kitchen so that they could place their mugs in the sink, before following him to his room where he squashed himself into Fukuzawa’s side, seeking as much comfort as he could get. Fukuzawa waited for Ranpo to get comfortable before drawing the blankets over the both of them, resting a comforting arm over Ranpo’s side.

Compared to Yokohama, the countryside was vastly different; more beautiful and peaceful compared to the chaotic mess that was the city with one of the largest underground crime in the country. Fukuzawa felt a little foolish to be as tensed and alert as he was compared to the rest of the country folk passing them by, but old habits were hard to break, and well, bad people weren’t just limited to the city either. Only this time, the enemy might be a recognizable one.

For once, Fukuzawa was the one following Ranpo, the boy’s usually lack of directional sense strangely absent, although it made sense since this was the hometown where he’d spent the first fourteen years of his life. He wouldn’t have been surprised if Ranpo had had no idea where he was going, and had resigned himself to asking for directions when they’d disembarked from the train—that he’d had to purchase the tickets for because Ranpo still didn’t understand how trains worked—only to have Ranpo leave the station and start walking, Fukuzawa quickly moving to keep up lest he be left behind.

Ranpo was still quiet, but unlike the oppressive silence that had hung around the previous week, it was the kind of silence that came about when Ranpo was thinking about something; the kind where Fukuzawa would also remain silent and wait for Ranpo to speak. And if he didn’t end up saying anything, then that was fine too.

By the time they’d reached the cemetery where Ranpo’s parents lay, they still hadn’t said anything, and Fukuzawa hung back a respectful distance while Ranpo went on ahead and knelt in front of the gravestones, his mouth moving as he spoke words too quiet for Fukuzawa to hear.

He raised his head towards the heavens.

Don’t worry. Your son is in good hands.

One thing that Fukuzawa was eternally grateful for, was the immune system of steel that Ranpo seemed to have. He'd seen many a sick child in his life, and had fully expected Ranpo to fall victim to the series of colds and flus that ran rampant about the city during the colder months, only to discover that bacteria and germs seemed to avoid Ranpo like the plague. Fukuzawa was only a little annoyed that he’d gotten sick more often than Ranpo, especially since most of those times had been because of Ranpo in the first place.

So, yeah, Fukuzawa was grateful that Ranpo seemed allergic to sickness, because the last thing he wanted to see was how Ranpo handled being sick—he imagined it would be days filled of complaints—considering just what the boy was like whenever he sustained an injury. It was just a lot of energy that Fukuzawa strongly believed he shouldn’t have to exert in the first place. But he did. Because if he didn’t, then Ranpo would surely get himself into even more trouble and the cycle would never end.

But just because Ranpo had never been sick in Fukuzawa’s presence, didn’t mean that the genius detective was immune to sickness entirely. No human was, at least, none that he knew personally, which wasn’t a lot of people when he thought about it.

So he shouldn’t have been surprised that the one time Ranpo had fallen sick in his care, he’d fallen sick.

Shivers ran up his spine at the memory.

It started with a summer storm.

Wind and rain lashed at the trees and buildings, the wind rendering umbrella’s useless within seconds, and the rain soaking everyone to the bone, no matter the kind of rain gear they wore. It wouldn’t have been as bad if it had just been the wind and rain, but no, it was the kind of rain that made the temperature plummet, during the warm summer day into a freezing winter afternoon in the span of an hour. It was a truly miserable day, and not one that Fukuzawa would’ve left home for, but the police had begged him and Ranpo for some assistance with their latest case, and upon hearing the details of the case, Ranpo had become curious enough to want to brave the storm. Fukuzawa had simply sighed and made sure Ranpo was appropriately dressed for the weather before he put one foot out the door.

In the end, the criminal had been apprehended and he and Ranpo had been free to go home.

A sniffle behind him drew Fukuzawa’s attention and he glanced over his shoulder at the sodden boy trailing behind him. While the two of them were both soaked to the bone, Ranpo was more water than person at this point, on account of being thrown into the river when he’d uncovered the killer’s identity. As it turned out, the killer had had no qualms about taking Ranpo with him as he’d pulled them both over the bridge railing, a last ditch effort to escape the police. It had failed of course—thank god—and they’d extricated both the killer and Ranpo from the river, and Fukuzawa’s heart could finally stop racing. Now all they had to do was head home, get dry, and not leave the house again until the storm was over.

Another sniffle behind him. “Ranpo, are you alright?” Fukuzawa asked, coming to a halt when he noticed that Ranpo had been trailing behind a bit further than he had been just before.

“I just got thrown into a river, what do you think?” Ranpo snapped, refusing to look Fukuzawa in the eyes as his cheeks burned red. Ah. Ranpo was embarrassed about needing to be saved. It wasn’t the first time that a criminal had tried to take a shot at hurting Ranpo, or killing him, but most of the time Ranpo had already accounted for the fact that that might happen, so had usually taken precautions—without telling the people around him of course. The amount of times Ranpo had stood there and let a criminal charge at him with a grin on his face was enough to turn Fukuzawa’s already silver hair even more silver. All Fukuzawa could see in those moments was a gun pointed a fourteen-year-old boy’s face, and he reacted, just like Ranpo had planned. Fukuzawa had half a mind to let Ranpo get shot or stabbed one of these days, if only to make the boy realize that he wasn’t as invincible as he appeared to believe. But he wouldn’t. Because Fukuzawa cared for Ranpo like he was his own son and it would hurt him to see Ranpo hurt just to prove a point.

But this time, they hadn’t been able to predict the killer’s intent, not until Ranpo and killer were already falling, and Fukuzawa had stared into young, terrified eyes, ready to leap into the river after him when an officer had dragged him away, not wanting anyone else to go for a swim in the tumultuous river, and they’d dashed along the river bank with the rest of the officers at the scene. It was only because another police patrol had been upriver that they’d managed to rescue Ranpo anyway; the officers having heard the commotion over the radio and prepared for a quick rescue. Fukuzawa had thanked the officers profusely whilst Ranpo had coughed up river water beside him, looking worse for wear.

“No one expected the killer to try and escape in a flooded river, Ranpo. It was an oversight on our part to not keep a closer eye on him once he’d been cornered.” Fukuzawa said carefully, knowing that if he didn’t choose his carefully, he was going to have a furious Ranpo on his hands.

And really, Fukuzawa just wanted to go home.

“I should’ve noticed it!” Ranpo sniffed again, wiping the back of his hand across his nose in a motion that had Fukuzawa disgusted. “World’s Greatest Detective and I didn’t think of the river as an escape route? Why? Just because the river was a little higher than it normally is? That’s no excuse!”

The river being a little higher than normal was an understatement; the severity of the storm had sent it into flood, and the wind allowed the water to lash the sides of the bank viciously, threatening to snatch up anyone that dared stray to close to it. But for the sake of not starting an argument, Fukuzawa hummed and allowed Ranpo to walk in front of him as he ranted angrily. Fukuzawa had learnt that it was sometimes best to let Ranpo say what he needed to say when he was angry or upset, and then help the boy work through it all; or in some cases, just sit beside him until Ranpo was back to his cheerful self.

Ranpo was still ranting by the time they arrived home, but this time about something else entirely that Fukuzawa was only half paying attention to. “Ranpo.” Fukuzawa said, interrupting the boy mid-rant. Ranpo looked at him. “Go and take a shower before you catch a cold.”

“You’re the one that should go first, Fukuzawa-san. I don’t get sick, remember?” Ranpo frowned as he pulled his shoes off and removed his coat, leaving puddles of water in the entryway.

“Just go, Ranpo.”

“Ugh, fine.” Ranpo shuffled off towards the bathroom, the door closing behind him with a click. Without grabbing an extra set of clothes. Fukuzawa sighed and removed his own coat, vowing to clean up the mess later once he was dry, and made his way to his room to get changed. Once he was dressed in dry and warm clothing, he carefully made his way towards Ranpo’s room, doing his best to navigate the mess that Fukuzawa had asked the boy to clean up multiple times, only to be told that everything was where it was for a reason. Fukuzawa hadn’t argued, only made Ranpo promise to keep it a tidy mess if it truly had to be set out that way—it did—and Ranpo had looked annoyed, but agreed to do so.

At least there was a clear path to the boy’s wardrobe where he dug out the softest clothing, he knew Ranpo owned; an oversized sweatshirt that dwarfed Ranpo’s already small size, some pants that Fukuzawa no longer knew the origin of, and fluffy socks. He could not and would not forget the socks; Ranpo despised not wearing socks, even during summer, and Fukuzawa had only made the mistake of forgetting socks once. Clothes in hand, Fukuzawa left the room and dropped the bundle in front of the door, knocking to let Ranpo know they were there, before making his way to the kitchen to make warm drinks for the both of them.

“Fukuzawa-san?” Ranpo poked his head around the corner, dry and dressed, but looking positively exhausted, not that Fukuzawa could blame him after taking an unwanted swim.

“Yes, Ranpo?” Fukuzawa paused in what he was doing, just about to make up Ranpo’s drink.

“I’m gonna go to bed now.”

Bed? Now? It’s only just after lunch. “Are you feeling alright?” He asked instead, a frown on his face as he crossed the room to stand in front of Ranpo, reaching out a hand to palm the boy’s forehead.

Ranpo slapped his hand away. “I’m fine, just tired.”

“Hmm… alright then. Leave your door open though. I’ll close it when I go to bed.” Usually, Fukuzawa didn’t care if Ranpo’s door was open or closed; the boy was entitled to his privacy after all, but sometimes, like right now, he’d ask the door to be left open just a bit, that way he could keep an ear out in case Ranpo needed help. And after a near-fatal swim, Fukuzawa felt like his concern was valid enough to make the request reasonable.

It didn’t stop Ranpo from turning up his nose, but when he disappeared into his room, the door was left partially open.

Fukuzawa sat on the couch alone, quietly drinking his tea. All the while keeping an eye on the room down the hall.

The next morning, Fukuzawa woke up early as usual, and set about cleaning up the mess that he’d neglected to the previous day on account of being worried about Ranpo; picking up still soaked clothing and throwing them into the washer, mopping up puddles of water, before tottering around and tidying up the rest of the house. The act of cleaning was soothing to him, it allowed him to just stop thinking for a change and perform acts that didn’t require much thought. And it was made even better by the fact that the sun was shining through the window, the storm from yesterday long gone, with the only signs of such a storm having existed in the first place being the puddles of water lying about on the roads. In fact, it was such a nice day now, that Fukuzawa elected to open the door to the balcony, allowing a slightly cool breeze to move throughout the apartment.

Usually, after such a bad storm, the weather the next day became miserable, especially when those kinds of storms happened during summer. But there was something in the way the storm was formed—a bunch of technical terms that Fukuzawa didn’t feel like trying to decipher—that brought a cool change instead of humidity and misery. It was pleasant. Too pleasant. Fukuzawa frowned, glancing at the clock from where he’d been doing the dishes. It was well past the time that Ranpo would be awake and chattering away, and yet, he hadn’t heard anything from the kids room since he went to bed early yesterday. Surely, he’s not still asleep?

Fukuzawa dried his heads and moved down the hallway, poking his head into Ranpo’s room, finding Ranpo still on his futon; dead asleep, blankets discarded like usual. Fukuzawa was about to leave Ranpo to get his rest—he had been working hard after all—when Ranpo broke out into a fit of coughing. Not the kind of coughing that one did to clear a throat, but the kind of deep, wet, coughs that could only have come from Ranpo’s time in the river. Fukuzawa’s stomach clenched; he should’ve gotten Ranpo checked out before they came home. Concerned now, Fukuzawa stepped into the room and came to kneel beside Ranpo, laying the back of his hand against Ranpo’s forehead.

A fever.

Not good.

“Ranpo.” Another round of coughing greeted Fukuzawa’s attempt at waking, the horrid sounds enough to have Fukuzawa reach underneath Ranpo’s arms and pull him upright so that the boy would be able to breathe easier.

Ranpo’s eyes flew open at the motion, and the coughing fit grew more intense. Fukuzawa shifted so that he could continue to hold Ranpo upright, but still run a hand up and down the kids spine, quietly encouraging Ranpo to try and take a breath in between coughs. Eventually, the fit died away, and Ranpo slumped against him, head drooping in a way that his hair was hiding his eyes. Not that Fukuzawa had to look into Ranpo’s eyes to know that they would be glazed over with fever. He could feel the heat radiating off of Ranpo’s body from where it was touching his own, even through the layers of clothing they both wore.

Ranpo mumbled something inaudible.

“What was that?” Fukuzawa frowned, not catching what was said.

“…n’t feel… good.” Ranpo repeated, voice a little louder, but still quiet.

“You have a fever.” Fukuzawa explained. “I’m going to help you to the couch. You’ll be able to breathe easier if you’re sitting up.” Fukuzawa waited for Ranpo to nod before he helped the boy stand up, carefully guiding him towards the couch where Ranpo collapsed against the arm of it and let out a miserable groan.

Fukuzawa tucked the blanket he’d grabbed around Ranpo’s shoulders, leaving Ranpo to be miserable on the couch while he went to find some medicine and water. He was certain that he’d kept a stock of medicine on hand that was suitable for someone Ranpo’s age in the event of the day that Ranpo actually fell ill, but he couldn’t recall where he’d placed it. Since they’d never needed to use it before, Fukuzawa hadn’t paid attention to where it had gone in the move from his old apartment to the current one. And as he searched the cupboards in both the bathroom and kitchen, he couldn’t help but sigh as the medicine eluded him. He didn’t want to have to leave Ranpo on his own in order to go shopping, even if it wouldn’t take him that long.

He glanced at his phone on the kitchen counter, an idea forming in his mind.

No, he couldn’t. They hadn’t spoken in years, and he was more than capable of taking care of a sick child on his own.

“Ranpo.” Fukuzawa crouched in front of Ranpo, a cup of water in hand. “I need to go out and get some medicine for you. I—”

“Why?” Ranpo interrupted, eyes opening to slowly blink at him. He accepted the water that Fukuzawa held out to him, sipping on it slowly.

“Because you’re sick. You have a fever and a cough, and medicine will make you feel better.”

Ranpo screwed up his face. “Don’t need it. Tastes gross.”

Fukuzawa sighed. “It will help you. Or do you want to be sick for longer than you need to be?”

At his words, Ranpo glared—well, as much of a glare as he could muster in his current state—and sharply turned his head away, only to groan and drop it against the arm of the couch.

A headache too. Fukuzawa made a note to grab some painkillers as well. “I’ll have my phone with me. Call if you need something.”

Ranpo made a disapproving noise, but didn’t protest further when Fukuzawa draped another blanket over him left the apartment. He wouldn’t be gone long, half an hour at the max; there was no way that Ranpo could get himself into trouble in such a short time frame… right?

Why are there so many different kinds of medicine? Why are there so many flavours? Just have one! Fukuzawa sighed as he exited the pharmacy when a bag in hand, everything he’d need to help Ranpo get better as soon as possible. The worker had been nice and patient with him, listening as he described Ranpo's symptoms and admitting that Ranpo didn’t get sick often which was why he hadn’t had any medicine on him in the first place. He was almost certain that some of the stuff the worker had forced him to purchase, he didn’t actually need, but he also wasn’t going to argue against someone who was trained in that field of knowledge. Besides, if he didn’t need it this time, he would have it on hand for when he did need it.

“If he doesn’t get sick often, then prepare yourself for the worst. Kids that don’t get sick often, tend to be hit harder when they do get sick.”

Those were the words the worker had sent him off with, genuine concern on their face as he’d left the store. And honestly, Fukuzawa hadn’t even thought about that scenario at all. He’d simply assumed that Ranpo had fallen ill because of the storm and the river—and he most certainly had—but he hadn’t stopped to consider just how sick Ranpo would get from his adventures. A sliver of doubt weaved through him, suddenly unsure if he was fit to take care of a sick child. It wasn’t something he’d done before. Fukuzawa took a deep breath, exhaling all his worries into the wind. Stressing would bring nothing but second guesses and harmful actions. He’d give Ranpo the medicine he’d bought, and then he’d do a bit of research on how to handle a sick child.

There, he had a plan.

Only to have said plan fly out the window when he walked inside the apartment to find Ranpo on his hands and knees, currently in the process of emptying his stomach contents onto the floor. Fukuzawa’s breath hitched, and he dropped the bag on the table before hurrying to Ranpo’s side, sliding one arm underneath Ranpo’s chest to hold him up, the other moving to brush Ranpo’s hair out of his face. Tears were running down Ranpo’s cheeks as he vomited once more, and the kid began to sob out an apology as he noticed Fukuzawa’s presence. “So-sorry—I’m—”

“Shh, it’s alright. It’s my fault for not leaving you a bucket.” Fukuzawa soothed, pulling Ranpo away from the mess once he’d stopped heaving, getting him settled back on the couch. He couldn’t help but frown; Ranpo hadn’t mentioned anything about being nauseous before he’d left, and he hadn’t looked that sick. Was he feeling worse than Fukuzawa had initially thought? “I’ve got you some medicine. Let me clean up, and I’ll give you some, okay?”

Ranpo nodded, face flushed mostly from the fever, but also embarrassment, as he wiped the tears from his eyes, sniffling pitifully. “Water?”

“Of course.”

Thankfully, it didn’t take long to clean up, although, if possible, Fukuzawa would very much rather not do it again. He returned to Ranpo’s side with the bag of medicine, a few bottles of water and a bucket, opening one of the bottles for Ranpo to drink. “How are you feeling?”

“Terrible.” Was Ranpo’s response, and not an overly helpful one.

“I’m not a mind reader, Ranpo, you need to tell me what’s going on.” Fukuzawa said, with a little bit of impatience in his voice, but not towards Ranpo; never towards Ranpo, who was feeling so sick and miserable right now, but towards himself for being incompetent to not know how to help.

Ranpo groaned, shoving his face into the arm of the couch.

Fukuzawa waited.

“Head hurts. Stomach hurts. Everything hurts.” Ranpo eventually complained.

“Anything else? Are you too hot? Too cold?”

“Hot.”

“Okay.” Fukuzawa turned his attention to the bag, rummaging through it and pulling out the different kinds of medicines, taking the time to read the boxes to figure out what medication did what, all whilst Ranpo was watching him warily. The first one he grabbed was something to treat cold and flu symptoms; all of which Ranpo seemed to have, whilst another was to combat fever, and there was even one that took care of nausea. The pharmacist really had given him everything he could’ve possibly needed. “Do you think you can keep something down?”

Ranpo’s face lost what little colour it still had at the prospect of ingesting anything. The boy fidgeted with the blanket that he’d dragged across his lap, which certainly wouldn’t have been helping his ‘too hot’ problem.

“We’ll wait then.” Fukuzawa was quick to say. “How about we get you into some cooler clothes first, and then we can try and get some of this into you?”

Ranpo let out a whine, and leaned forward to rest his head on Fukuzawa’s shoulder. Fukuzawa sighed, knowing that that was about as much of a ‘yes’ as he was going to get. Without a word, he lifted Ranpo effortlessly, cringing a little at how sweaty Ranpo was because of the fever. Maybe a shower was needed as well.

The apartment was silent, and Fukuzawa sat on the couch, Ranpo’s head in his lap, as he watched a movie with the volume low enough so that he wouldn’t disturb the sleeping boy in his lap. One of his hands was running through Ranpo’s now clean hair, soothing Ranpo while he dozed. Fukuzawa had forced Ranpo to shower, although the boy had insisted he didn’t need help with that, so Fukuzawa left Ranpo to his own devices and went to make a light meal for the kid, hoping to get some food into Ranpo’s stomach. Food was supposed to help sick people recover faster, wasn’t it? And he knew that Ranpo ate soup, since Fukuzawa had made it before, and it had been eaten. So it seemed like a safe option to do.

While he’d been cooking, Ranpo had emerged from the bathroom, making his way to the living room before he slid down the wall and buried his face into his knees. Ranpo, now wearing a t-shirt and shorts—and socks, because try as he might, Fukuzawa had not been able to convince Ranpo to not wear them while he was sick—looked at him pitifully from his spot on the floor. Soup almost done, Fukuzawa had turned the stove down and moved over to help Ranpo up and over to the couch. The blanket, too hot for how high Ranpo’s fever was, had been replaced by a thin sheet that Ranpo had quickly covered himself with.

The biggest challenge for the day had been convincing Ranpo to eat the soup and take the medicine; there’d been tears from Ranpo, and frustration from Fukuzawa as they’d argued over it, but ultimately, he’d managed to get Ranpo to eat a little bit and down the pills that would help him. Fukuzawa was just glad that the medication had been pills and not the foul liquid he remembered from his own childhood, because there was no way he’d have been able to convince Ranpo to drink his medicine.

Now, Ranpo was asleep, and would hopefully sleep off the rest of the sickness that was plaguing him.

Fukuzawa closed his own eyes, ready to catch up on some rest. It was more exhausting than he thought it would be, to take care of someone who was sick, and he didn’t understand how other parents did it on a regular basis.

Why is it hot? Was Fukuzawa’s first thought as he woke up to a darkened apartment, wincing at the pain in his neck as he became more aware of his surroundings. He was still on the couch, which explained his soreness, and Ranpo was still asleep, but something was wrong. Ranpo’s breathing was more like wheezing now, and his face was flushed a bright red, pinched with pain as he was wracked by a coughing fit.

And he was hot.

Fukuzawa wasted no time in placing a hand on Ranpo’s forehead, wincing at how high the fever at become; it was almost as if Ranpo had never taken any medicine in the first place. “Ranpo.” Fukuzawa shook Ranpo’s shoulder, sliding out from underneath the boy, only to have Ranpo not respond to him at all. “Ranpo!”

With no response, Fukuzawa’s worry gave way to fear. Ranpo was really, really, sick, and he didn’t know what to do. His phone caught his eye as he paced the room, and Fukuzawa scrunched up his face. There was only one thing he could do, really.

He crossed the room and snatched up the device, dialling a familiar number.

The phone picked up on the third ring. “What are you calling so late for?”

Fukuzawa sighed. He was already regretting his decision “I need help.”

Ranpo let out another whimper, Fukuzawa hushing his ward, even though Ranpo was completely unaware of what was going on around him. Fukuzawa could feel eyes looking at him from the front seat of the car, but he ignored them in favour of providing whatever comfort he could give. Of course, he was grateful to Fukichi for coming so quick without him saying anything, and helping Fukuzawa bundle Ranpo’s tiny form into a blanket and into the back seat of the car before climbing into the driver’s seat to drive them to the hospital.

They were almost there and they still hadn’t said a word to each other, the tension so thick, Fukuzawa was surprised it wasn’t visible. The fault was his, of course; Fukichi hadn’t made it a secret that he wasn’t pleased about Fukuzawa’s lack of contribution in the war, and Fukuzawa himself had done nothing to try and repair their fracturing friendship. They’d had limited conversations over the years, but had barely spoken to each other since Fukuzawa had taken Ranpo on as his ward.

Still, it would be rude of him to not thank the man at least for coming in the middle of the night to his aide. “Thank you for this.”

Another longer glance this time before the eyes went back to the road. “You sounded terrified. Which is a first for you, so of course I had to come.” Fukichi looked back once more. “The kid’ll be alright.”

Fukuzawa hummed, looking down at the fever flushed face resting against him. He hoped so.

Fukichi dropped them off at the emergency room, asking Fukuzawa to let him know how things went before driving off into the night. Fukuzawa made sure that Ranpo was secure before making his way into the hospital, the situation oddly similar to the time he’d rushed in with a wailing Ranpo after he’d broken his arm. And Fukuzawa didn’t know if it was fate, or if he was just extremely, but it was the same receptionists as the last time the two of them had been here, and they took one look at Fukuzawa before assuring him that help was coming.

Soon, Ranpo was whisked away out of his arms and Fukuzawa was led by a kind nurse to a chair he could wait in. So, Fukuzawa waited… and waited… and waited, before finally, the doctor came to fetch him, leading him to where Ranpo was.

Ranpo looked so tiny in the hospital bed, just laying there on raised pillows, wheezing and coughing like he couldn’t get enough air into his lungs. Fukuzawa crossed the room, reaching down to grab one of Ranpo’s hands with his own. Ranpo didn’t move, didn’t respond to Fukuzawa’s touch as he usually would’ve; he just laid there, looking a little more comfortable than he had on the car ride over.

It was a chest infection, the doctor explained, brought upon by Ranpo inhaling dirty river water in the middle of a storm. The doctor went on to explain that Fukuzawa had done all the right things at the time; keeping Ranpo fed and cool, and giving him medicine, it was simply that infections could only be treated by antibiotics—which Ranpo was now on—and that they tended to flare up quickly. The doctor continued to say that Ranpo would make a full recovery before leaving the room with a promise to send someone to check on them in a few hours.

Fukuzawa sighed, collapsing into the single chair in the room. Honestly, Ranpo was going to be the death of him at this point.

“I’m sorry, Fukuzawa-san, but Ranpo-san has requested that you not enter his room right now.” The nurse said, bowing apologetically towards him as she blocked the doorway.

Fukuzawa frowned. “Why, what’s he done this time?”

“Nothing, sir! And he’s fine as well!” The nurse was quick to say upon seeing the worry creeping onto his face. “Ranpo-san insisted, that’s all. Said it was really important that you not enter for the…” the nurse glanced at the watch on her wrist. “Next twenty minutes.”

A sigh escaped Fukuzawa before he could stop it, but he nodded. “Alright. I shall come back in twenty minutes.”

The nurse bowed again, retreating back inside Ranpo’s room, shutting the door before Fukuzawa could peek and try to see just what trouble his ward was causing. He and Ranpo had been in the hospital for just over a week now, Ranpo finally fighting off the infection in his lungs. It had been a stressful week for Fukuzawa, watching as Ranpo struggled to breathe whenever he was overcome with coughing fits, watching as fever burned through his body, and watching as he cried from the pain of it all. But all through it, Fukuzawa had sat by Ranpo’s bedside, holding his hand and wiping away his tears.

It had been a relief for him when Ranpo’s fever had broken and he’d finally regained consciousness, green eyes blinking at Fukuzawa blearily before Ranpo had asked for something sweet. And if Fukuzawa had shed a few tears upon hearing that annoying request, well then that was his business. Since that day, Ranpo had improved day by day, going from sleeping most of the day to actually being alert and holding a conversation; only being kept in the hospital now until he’d finished the second round of antibiotics the doctors had given him. It was a precaution, the doctor treating Ranpo had said, on account of how sick Ranpo had been when Fukuzawa had brought him in.

Never again, did Fukuzawa want to go through such a thing.

Never.

Before he knew it, twenty minutes had passed, and like he’d promised, Fukuzawa made his way back to Ranpo’s room, knocking politely on the door. He heard a series of coughs—so different from the horrific ones caused by the infection—come from inside before Ranpo’s voice called for him to enter. Fukuzawa opened the door and entered—

—and was greeted by a cake?

“What is this?” Fukuzawa blinked down at the cake in the nurse’s hands. It was chocolate, and was decorated with sprinkles and what looked to be a couple of stick figures; he couldn’t quite tell exactly what it was supposed to be. He looked up at Ranpo, only just noticing the way that there was icing smeared across the boy’s face and fingers, and the slightly hesitant look in his eyes.

“It’s a cake, duh! What else did you think it would be?” Ranpo said, coughing only twice before crawling out of bed to come and stand in front of Fukuzawa. Only a second passed before arms wrapped around his waist and Fukuzawa became even more confused as Ranpo hugged him. He didn’t hesitate to drop one of his arms to rest on Ranpo’s shoulders.

“And where did you get a cake from?” Fukuzawa asked.

“I baked it!” Ranpo looked up at him and grinned. “The nurses helped me!”

“I see.” Fukuzawa took the cake from the nurse, who bowed and scurried out of the room. “Why did you bake a cake?”

Ranpo’s face went bright red, and he hid his face. “It’s to say thank you.”

“Thank you?” Fukuzawa had an idea now of where this was going and smiled. He wanted to hear what Ranpo wanted to say without the boy making him try and guess.

“Yeah. For, you know, taking care of me and all that.” Ranpo said. He sounded a little embarrassed now, and Fukuzawa realized that this was the first time that Ranpo had done something that was for Fukuzawa and not for himself.

“Did you decorate it yourself?”

Ranpo nodded. “It’s us.”

Ah, so it is. “Well. I definitely can’t eat this all on my own now, can I? Why don’t you give me a hand?”

Ranpo’s head shot up, embarrassment gone like it was never there in the first place, and he nodded, always excited at the prospect of eating sweets. “The nurse gave me forks since I knew you’d suggest that!”

Fukuzawa rolled his eyes and followed Ranpo back to his bed, sitting beside his word who was already hoeing into the cake. Fukuzawa picked up a fork and began to help, listening as Ranpo began to talk about the latest hospital gossip, making sure to listen and nod in all the right places.

Finally, it seemed like he was getting this parenting thing under control.

[decolonize-the-left]

My gf was watching a YouTube documentary on Chris Chan and I have some complex feelings on the whole ordeal.

Like for one, I've discovered that even if they're a bigoted, abusive piece of shit, I do think there is a limit for bullying and dehumanizing another person. At some point it stops being "haha nobody owes you kindness cuz you suck" and starts turning into just senseless torture. Like there is actually a point where you need to realize you've stepped away from socially acceptable bigot shaming and stepped into the territory of Abuser.

Like these people straight up detached Chris from any form of reality over the course of 2 decades. They got Chris to think she was living on another planet with sonic characters she made up herself. That she was traveling dimensions through a game console. They've had her post humiliating videos, taken advantage of her financially, emotionally, & psychologically, forced her to do things I literally feel uncomfortable typing out. And I really don't feel comfortable saying what else they got her to believe and do. But I will say Chris was never really in a right mind and everything these people did made it worse.

And I'll admit at first I enjoyed watching Chris, a huge bigoted predator, get absolutely dunked on. Who wouldn't? I mean Chris said and done things I'd feel uncomfortable typing out too. Fuck bigots, they deserve nothing, amirite? I'm the first to say so.

But then it just didn't stop. Ever. And it got dark. It made me uncomfortable even as someone only half-paying attention to a documentary. And it still hasn't stopped and it's been going since like 2005. Chris is literally in jail rn and there's still an entire reddit sub wishing her the absolute worst.

All this happened on 4-chan so obviously it's a dumpster fire to begin with... But idk. Like from a psychological standpoint it's fascinating to me. Like a fucked up psychology experiment.

And I think one of the more disgusting things I noticed was the way people were eager to harm someone when they could justify it. Like moths to a flame. They just wanted to hurt someone. It didn't matter if Chris deserved it or even what Chris did. What matters is they could justify how horribly they treated another person and Chris, with her loose grip on reality, naivete, and mental instability, made a good victim.

Like aside from Chris herself... What drives human beings to relish in being the cause of someone else's misery? Cuz it definitely speaks to what kind of person even engages with this sort of thing in the first place. Hurt people hurt people as the saying goes, abused people abuse people, etc etc.

Like it really shows how trauma & abuse compound on themselves, how mental illness compounds, how community can choose to exacerbate that trauma, how everyone is constantly just projecting on everyone else and making everyone collectively worse, even how you traumatize someone, how you breakdown the reality of a person, how long it takes, the mindsets/feeling/values that make a person willing to put up with being on the receiving end of this and continuously choosing to engage with it for almost 2 whole decades.

Anyway I thought I'd share that. Cuz I know I'm personally one of the first to say that bigots can catch hands. That nobody owes awful people kindness but this made me question how much I actually mean that, to what extent. Because now I've seen how that mindset plays out in real lives in real time without limits or ramifications.

And it sucked.

And I've decided we do owe people kindness actually. Not all the time, not unconditionally. But they are owed kindness. People can not improve under cruel conditions and they can not improve without support. If we want the world to be better, if we really want to improve our surroundings and cultures, we need to accept that.

The human condition is such that it won't improve without love, kindness, and support, it does not care whether or not that's what we deserve.

[allthelittlecreepycrawlies]

SangYu Ideas, Part One

Mo Xuanyu figures out early that he's in a bad spot. Maybe he overhears their father invoking him as a threat to his older brother. Maybe the other disciples or Xue Yang push him too far. 

Either way, he decides to try his luck following the Nie delegation home after a conference, because Nie Huaisang has always treated him sweetly. Naturally he gets caught almost immediately, but when Nie Huaisang tries to convince him to let them take him back to Koi Tower, Mo Xuanyu has a full on sobbing breakdown in fear of what will happen to him if they do. 

Nie Huaisang sends a letter to Jin Guangyao informing him that if Jin Guangshan wants Mo Xuanyu back, some changes will have to be made to the boy's care.

Of course, Jin Guangshan doesn't give a shit, he just wanted Mo Xuanyu around to hold over Jin Guangyao's head to get his obedience.

So Mo Xuanyu becomes a junior Nie disciple, and thrives.

They don't treat him as a useless idiot or a game piece or a freak. He makes friends. He's a quick book study and finds he really likes scribe work.

And he has a massive crush on his pretty sect leader, but no one minds that, either. Like half his fellow Juniors say they do, too, though he's fairly sure they're not being at all serious.

And if they are, well, he's gotten better at competing for what he wants.

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

SangYu where Mo Xuanyu's got some pretty fucked up notions of things like consent, boundaries, and how to handle possessive feelings. He can't really help it when his best role models are the other members of the demonic cultivation gang. So when he realizes he's caught a serious case of attraction towards a certain sect leader, of course the correct way to handle it is to drug his tea and tie him up while he's sleeping it off, right? 

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

Little part-Sable Yao!Xuanyu collapses and transforms in the gardens one day after yet another beating by the other students. 

When he hears approaching footsteps, he panics, but he's too tired and hurting to scrabble off into the bushes to hide.

Rather than being kicked or swatted away, however, he finds himself gently rubbed between the ears with a fingertip. 

"You're in a bad spot," a voice he recognizes as one of Yao-ge's friends says. "If a servant comes by, you'll be in big trouble for sure." 

He knows that, but it sounds a whole lot scarier coming from another person. 

He tries again to drag himself to his paws and flee, but collapses back on his belly. 

The voice above him makes a hum as if considering something, then there is a sound like the shuffling of clothing before he finds himself carefully picked up off the ground. When he manages to open his eyes, he finds himself staring at a very pretty face. 

The stranger smiles, and if Mo Xuanyu were capable of doing so, he would be blushing all the way to the tip of his tail. 

"There you are," the man says sweetly. "Why don't we go check you for injuries and clean you up, hm? You must be in very bad shape not to have bitten me yet. Or perhaps," he adds with a mischievous glint in those green eyes. "You're more than just a simple sable, yes?" 

Mo Xuanyu freezes. 

The man chuckles, but there is surprisingly no malice in it. "Thought so. But we can wait until you've recovered to get into that," he says, gently tucking Mo Xuanyu into his arms like a treasured pet. The leather falconry glove he wears on one hand and the cold forest smell of his robes are... comforting. Even better are the feeling of long nails expertly scratching just behind his ears and the slow rocking of being carried through the hallways. 

With safety comes the difficulty of staying awake, as his fight or flight instinct gives way to exhaustion. 

Oh, well. 

Oh, well.

For the first time since he arrived at Koi Tower two years previously, Mo Xuanyu closes his eyes and sleeps without fear.

(Please also enjoy the mental image of little sable yao Xuanyu trying to be a fur collar for his new friend during a winter visit. He’s not very good at it, skinny and scruffy as he is, but Huaisang appreciates the effort and rewards him with snacks and kisses on his fuzzy little head.)

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

Another variation on a post-canon where it turns out Mo Xuanyu wasn't totally destroyed. 

A yao sniffing around Mo Manor for a resentful energy powerup gets possessed/mutated by the shards of Mo Xuanyu's soul that still linger.

The resulting creature only has a handful of memories, but that's enough for it -him- to start hunting for the one person it -he- still felt safe with even at the end.

As luck would have it, Nie Huaisang is passing through the area on his way home from meeting with a minor sect leader.

Alone.

When he gets cornered by this nightmarish thing that looks like someone tried to kludge together a wolf, a deer, and a human, he's understandably terrified -if he dies here, who will free da-ge?- but instead of trying to tear his throat out, the creature grabs him by the collar of his robes and drags him off to a cave, where it curls up around him like-

-um, well-

Still frightened and now immensely confused, Nie Huaisang tentatively probes the creature's spiritual energy to try and find out what it's supposed to be-

-and nearly faints from surprise when a familiar signature tinged with the smoky power of demonic cultivation responds.