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m1ckeyb3rry · 3 days

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Series Synopsis: A series of (mostly) unrelated one shots, featuring Oliver Aiku somehow getting involved with the love lives of various Blue Lock characters — whether he wants to or not.

Chapter Synopsis: After being yelled at one too many times by their strict Ubers teammate, Oliver Aiku enlists Ikki Niko in helping him get Shoei Barou a girlfriend, hoping beyond hope that that’s enough to get the guy to chill out a bit.

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Barou x Reader

Chapter Word Count: 10.8k

Content Warnings: crack fic, barou is also my awkward goat, love at first sight, oliver aiku is such a bitch but he’s funny so it’s kind of okay, reader is kind of an npc in this icl 😓, this is really dumb please don’t judge my writing off of it, everyone is 100% ooc don’t come at me i KNOWWW, split perspectives (it makes sense in the story), everyone gets slandered (mostly by aiku), god bless niko for being chronically online

A/N: there were a decent amt of people who wanted barou’s version plus i felt like writing it so he’s up next!! LMAO it kind of got a bit long just like the sae version and somehow it’s even sillier so…but yeah anyways this is the second entry in “oliver aiku’s guide to getting girls” i hope you all stick around for the rest 🤩‼️

Barou is yelling at them again. Aiku’s not sure what the big deal is this time — so what if Lorenzo spilled spaghetti sauce on the floor? He’s Italian, that’s part of his culture — but if he dares to speak up, Barou will single him out specifically, and then he’ll be treated like a little kid in timeout, which doesn’t sound like an ideal way to spend a Friday night.

It’s the four of them in the doghouse as usual — himself, Niko, Aryu, and Sendou, that is. The most ridiculous thing is that Lorenzo isn’t even there, though he’s the true target of Barou’s rage; unfortunately for his teammates, though, Lorenzo’s off getting his teeth polished or counting his money while cackling or whatever else it is that he does in his free time.

Honestly, none of them are really taking the theatrics seriously. Aryu’s fiddling with the ends of his hair, Niko’s standing there, staring at Barou with large, watery eyes, and Sendou’s glaring back at Barou with his arms folded over his chest. Aiku sighs, because that means an argument between the two is most likely impending, but unfortunately for him, he sighs a bit too loudly, and Barou whips around, jabbing a finger at him.

“What’s so exasperating, huh?” Barou says. “I bet you won’t be sighing when we have an insect infestation because none of you can be bothered to clean up that damn tomato shit that Lorenzo’s obsessed with!”

“It’s marinara,” Niko pipes up meekly. They all look at him with varying degrees of incredulity; he shrugs, adjusting the headphones around his neck self-consciously. “Lorenzo’s trying to teach me how to make it. Supposedly a typical spaghetti sauce has meat and vegetables added, but a good marinara is the base, so — um, anyways.”

Barou’s upper lip is curled into a sneer, and Aiku’s just about to thank Niko for taking the fall and turning Barou’s rage to him when he remembers that that’s markedly not how Barou operates. He’s too meticulous to forget the former recipient of his ire, not so quickly, and indeed, Barou is pointing at them both when he speaks next.

“That stain better be gone the next time I come in this room,” he says. He doesn’t say what will happen if it’s not, but given his authoritative voice and enormous physique, he usually doesn’t have to resort to making threats in order to be obeyed.

“Thank goodness,” Aryu says once Barou has left to complete his evening meditations. “Seems like Barou appreciated our elegant silence, Sendou. We’ve escaped reproach this time.”

“Yup,” Sendou says. Whistling nonchalantly, he sidles out of the room, and with a fluttering wave, Aryu follows suit. Aiku can’t even blame them, considering it’s what he would’ve done if he were in their place.

Glancing at Niko, who is now his greatest friend due to convenience alone, Aiku shakes his head, wondering what choice he made in life that led to his weekend plans amounting to cleaning sauce stains from a carpet with a little boy instead of partying or something.

“You got the bleach?” he asks. Niko nods miserably.

“Yeah, I got it. You’re good with scrubbing?” he says. Aiku’s shoulders cramp preemptively at the mere thought, but he doesn’t protest aloud.

“No other choice, right?” he says. “Off to work we go, then.”

Your best friend has been begging you for days to try this new restaurant with her, and it’s only now that it’s Friday that you can’t come up with any more excuses to avoid it. The truth is that you don’t really have a reason to refuse her as many times as you have, but the thought of summoning up the wherewithal to get ready and go out for dinner instead of throwing on your pajamas and eating something on the couch with a movie in the background is excruciating. Besides, you know her tastes. She always takes you to insanely fancy locations where anything less than your best will be embarrassing, and the only saving grace is that your outings always end up being insanely cheap, as she refuses to spend more than the bare minimum no matter what.

“You’re serious?” she affirms, standing in front of your closet and sifting through your clothes. You’re sitting on your bed, legs crossed and your laptop on your lap as you try to finish up the essay you have due Monday before getting ready. “You’ll really go with me?”

“I just told you I would, didn’t I?” you say. “I wouldn’t let you go through my closet if I wasn’t being serious. Actually, I wouldn’t have let you into my house at all.”

“Your parents would’ve opened the door for me,” she says dismissively. “They love me.”

It’s true, they do love her as much if not more than they love you, so you have no rebuttal. She grins at you, tossing a shirt in your general direction. It hits the back of your laptop, landing in a heap on the floor, and you’re too busy to pick it up, so you just leave it there, too lost in thought to care. Just the conclusion, if I can finish that then I can do something fun without anything on my mind—

“Hurry up and get ready! We want to get a table, don’t we?” she says. It’s a pair of pants she flings your way this time, and her aim is far more superior, for they smack into your face, temporarily blinding you.

“If you don’t let me finish this essay, I won’t go with you,” you say, and she knows you mean it literally, so she immediately pretends to zip her lips, saluting at you.

“Finish away!”

“Barou’s totally got a stick up his ass, don’t you think?” Aiku says after thirty minutes have passed and the stain is no smaller than before.

“I don’t think I’d phrase it like that,” Niko says, pouring another cup of bleach on the carpet. Neither of them really know much about cleaning, so this is the best they’ve got, even though Aiku’s pretty sure Barou would pass out if he saw their method. “But yeah, he can be kind of uptight at times.”

“He’s pretty nice otherwise, though,” Aiku says thoughtfully. “It’s kind of a shame. I bet if he loosened up a bit, he’d be a downright enjoyable teammate. Besides the cleaning and all, he’s a cool guy.”

“I do like training with him,” Niko says. “When he’s not yelling at us, it’s fun. Following his regimen has made me a lot stronger.”

“Agreed,” Aiku says. That’s the one thing he’ll give Barou — the guy is a master with the training equipment. He’s introduced Aiku to machines he didn’t even know existed. “You know what he needs?”

“What?” Niko says. He’s scrubbing at the floor while Aiku’s sipping on a soda; theoretically, they’re supposed to be switching off, but Niko hasn’t complained yet, so Aiku’s not about to remind him that it’s well beyond time for his turn.

“Some pu—” Aiku cuts himself off when he remembers that he is talking to a child. Niko’s like twelve or something, so maybe phrasing it in that way isn’t the most appropriate thing to do. “—I mean, a beautiful and loving girlfriend.”

Niko tilts his chin up at him, which means he’s probably looking at him; it’s hard to tell with his overgrown bangs falling in his face. Aiku makes a mental note to suggest cutting Niko’s hair during the next team bonding night that Snuffy forces them into.

“I guess having someone like that would make anyone happier, even Barou,” he says.

“That’s what I’m getting at! I bet he’s just constantly stressed out, so he takes it out on us instead of finding a healthy outlet. Maybe dating someone will fix that and give him something to do besides soccer,” Aiku says.

“Is that your secret to always being so calm?” Niko says. Aiku nods.

“The more girls you have, the less you can worry about things like training. You’re too focused on making sure they’re all happy,” Aiku says.

“Woah,” Niko says. “That’s a really great way of looking at things.”

“Right?” Aiku says. “With Barou, though, we might be lucky if we can find even one girl willing to put up with him. He’s a bit of a work in progress, you know?”

“Totally,” Niko says. “What if he yells at her the way he yells at us?”

Aiku has a vision of some poor, innocent girl on the verge of tears as Barou rants about how she didn’t fold her laundry the right way or something. For some reason, she looks kind of like Niko — oh, that’s probably because Barou just yelled at Niko for that exact reason — but the image is enough for him to balk.

“She can come to us for comfort,” Aiku says decisively before once again remembering that Niko probably only popped out of the womb a scant few months prior. He needs to be more careful — this isn’t Sendou, who would’ve made at least ten innuendos even worse than his own by this point. “I mean, me.”

“That’s a good plan,” Niko says. “You’re really good with the whole advising and comforting thing. I bet you’d make her feel better for sure.”

Yeah, I’d make her feel better alright. This time Aiku manages to keep it to himself, only coughing slightly and nodding towards the bottle of bleach as an explanation.

“The only question is where in Blue Lock are we going to find a girl, let alone one willing to date Barou?” Aiku says.

“Well, Bastard München is playing PXG this weekend, and Manshine City is playing Barcha, so we’re technically off,” Niko says. “I think if we ask Snuffy, we can probably have a day out.”

“What if Ego gets mad?” Aiku says, although the idea is sound enough that he’s just jealous he didn’t come up with it himself. Niko hums, giving careful consideration to the notion.

“We can just blame it on Snuffy. What’s Ego going to do, fire him?” he says.

A grin breaks out on Aiku’s face.

“Niko, kiddo—”

“I’m fifteen.”

“—you’re totally a genius. Let’s go!”

“What about the stain?” Niko says. Aiku glances at the still marinara-colored splotch on the carpet, and then he waves it off dismissively.

“If we can find Snuffy before Barou gets back, then it’s no longer our problem,” he says.

Niko looks unconvinced, but he’s sensible as well as genius-material, so he only follows after Aiku — albeit not without a final worried glance at the section of carpet which still smells suspiciously of tomatoes.

“So what cuisine does this place have, anyways?” you say. You’ve finally finished and submitted your essay, and now you’re taking a shower. Your best friend has closed the lid of the toilet and is sitting on it while playing on her phone, apparently because she wants to be able to talk to you even while you’re showering, and since you have a curtain you don’t mind.

“No idea,” she says.

“No idea?” you say, squeezing shampoo into your palm. “Why do you want to go, then?”

“My dad’s Facebook friends have been raving about it,” she says. “His ex-boss said that it’s the best value-for-money in the entire city!”

“We’re going to dinner based on recommendations from your dad’s Facebook friends,” you repeat dryly. “Wow.”

“Look, he may have chronically underpaid my dad, but the ex-boss has great taste in food!” your best friend defends. “Apparently they fill up super fast, though, so we have to get there right when they open for dinner, or else we’re out of luck.”

“Is this you subtly trying to pressure me to shower faster?” you say.

“It’s not subtle,” she says. You scoff.

“I hope you know I’ll take even longer now,” you say.

“You better not!”

Snuffy is obviously confused when the two of them approach him — Aiku’s not sure if it’s the question that has their coach confounded, though, or if it’s the admittedly odd combination that’s approached him.

“You guys want a night out of the facility?” Snuffy checks.

“Yes,” Aiku says.

“And…you want Barou to come?” Snuffy says. That could be another reason for the incredulity — ‘Barou’ and ‘fun’ are two words rarely if ever seen in the same sentence, unless your name is Yoichi Isagi, in which case just being on the same field as Barou is your idea of ‘fun.’ For normal people — i.e. those with names such as Oliver Aiku and Ikki Niko — those concepts don’t generally align, however, so Aiku can’t blame Snuffy for the weird face he’s making.

“Yes,” Niko says.

Snuffy stares at them for a moment longer, and then, to make things even stranger, he chuckles in a way that’s almost fond.

“It’ll be good for him to get out of here for a bit,” he says. “You two are great teammates for thinking of him; I’m sure he’ll appreciate it one day, if not necessarily tonight. Go on, then, and have fun if you’d like.”

Aiku waits for the other shoe to drop, but Snuffy just returns to making a cup of coffee. It’s a little odd, given the later hour, but still, Aiku’s not one to count his blessings, so he motions for Niko to follow him, and with Snuffy’s official permission, the two of them march towards where Barou is probably doing his daily “fuck Yoichi Isagi” affirmations. They have that kind of weird relationship, after all. It’s unnecessarily complicated, but Aiku has observed during his time in Blue Lock that almost every single relationship between the members of the program follows such a mold. He’s given up on trying to figure any of it out, knowing it’s well beyond him.

“Are you ready?” Aiku says when they reached the closed door to the training room. Niko rolls his shoulders.

“As ready as I’ll ever be,” Niko says. Aiku decides he likes him, and that he should try to spend more time with the pipsqueak. Maybe he can be a mentor figure or a true role model for the younger player. He’d definitely do better at the job than, say, Aryu. Or Lorenzo, which is a more relevant concern, since apparently the two are cooking buddies, as per Niko’s marinara interlude during Barou’s earlier tantrum.

With a grim nod at Niko, Aiku swings open the door. Schooling his expression into a cheery grin, he calls out in a sing-song that really doesn’t spell anything but trouble:

“Oh, Barou!”

You’ve made your best friend drive, since she’s the one who’s insisted on taking you out, which leaves you to play music and accomplish other such passenger-esque duties. You take full advantage of your freedom to be distracted, shuffling through playlists whenever you’re bored and scrolling through your best friend’s crush-of-the-week’s social media.

“He’s kind of ugly,” you say. She clicks her tongue.

“In a cute way, though, right?” she says. When you’re silent, she gasps. “Right?”

“Uh…” you trail off, zooming in on one of the photos. Something about him is reminiscent of a gerbil, and you can tell he’s short even before you swipe and see him in a photo with one of his friends, barely coming up to his shoulder. “There’s someone out there for everyone, I suppose.”

“That means you think he’s repulsive!” she accuses you.

“Repulsive’s a strong word,” you say.

“Hideous?” she says.

“I can get behind that,” you say. “He reminds me of Tinkerbell.”

“Like the fairy, or our third grade teacher’s gerbil?” she says.

“The latter,” you say. “I’m glad you remembered her. That wouldn’t have been as funny if you didn’t.”

“I didn’t find it funny regardless,” she says, pulling into the parking lot and slowing the car to a crawl as she hunts for a space to pull in.

“Hm,” you say. “I did.”

“You know what? You’re not allowed to slander him until you find someone better for yourself. Girls in glass houses should not be throwing stones, and considering some of your exes, you’re in no position to talk,” she says.

“Low blow,” you say.

“No response? That’s what I thought,” she says. You scowl.

“Just park the car, you dumbass.

“What the hell is going on?” Barou says, for probably the third or fourth time. Unfortunately, their attempt at kidnapping him didn’t go as planned, for neither Aiku nor Niko could lift Barou for any length of time, so now they were stuck with a supremely irritated striker following after them as they marched towards where the Blue Lock official parking was.

Snuffy had given them the keys to his car, so at least they had a ride — if he weren’t such a good coach, Aiku would seriously question the man’s judgment. Niko ushers Barou into the backseat, claiming he already “called shotgun,” and then he dives into the passenger seat beside Aiku, fastening his seatbelt with a serious expression on his delicate face.

“We wanted to have a fun night out!” Aiku says, turning the child lock on so Barou can’t escape before reversing out of the garage.

“Huh?” Barou says. “There’s so many things wrong with that statement, I don’t even know where to begin. Also, why are we in Snuffy’s car?”

“He gave us the keys,” Niko says, like it’s obvious. In all fairness, it kind of is.

“He gave you two the keys,” Barou says. Aiku’s a responsible driver, so he doesn’t glance back at Barou, but he’s pretty sure that if he did, he’d be met with the kind of fearsome glare that made medieval-era peasants believe in the existence of creatures like trolls and dragons.

“Yes, he did,” Aiku says. “Told us to enjoy ourselves while we were at it.”

Barou sighs. “Say I believe that—”

“We’re telling the truth!” Aiku says.

“—uh-huh, sure. Anyways, where are we even going?” he says.

“Oh, I can answer that!” Niko says. “It’s this restaurant that my dad’s obsessed with. He’s been posting all over his Facebook about it. According to him, it’s the best value-for-money in the entire city.”

“At least you two are being frugal,” Barou says with a small ‘hmph.’ “How far is it?”

“Not too far,” Niko says.

“Just sit back and relax, man! It’s a couple of friends going out for a meal. Totally normal!” Aiku says.

“Friends don’t kidnap one another to hang out,” Barou says.

“We didn’t kidnap you. Are you saying we’re friends, then?” Aiku says.

“I’m saying we’re not. You turned the child lock on, so that basically constitutes an abduction,” Barou says.

“I did that for Niko!” Aiku says, mentally patting himself on the back for the quick thinking.

“What? I’m fifteen, not five!”

By the time your best friend finds somewhere to park, it’s already dark, and the spot is at the very edge of the lot, so then the two of you have to walk for another five minutes. She’s antsy by this point, but she does an admirable job of hiding it, only picking at her nails behind her back where she thinks you won’t see.

“It’ll be alright,” you say as you reach the door to the restaurant. “I’m sure they’ll have space for two people, at least. Nowhere can be that busy, right?”

“I hope so,” she says, chewing on her lower lip.

You’re proven wrong almost as soon as you both walk into the establishment. Every single table has people sitting at it, and there’s a small crowd of people in the waiting area. Still, you and your best friend push past to where the hostess is standing.

“Excuse me,” you say. “How long is the wait?”

“At least an hour,” the hostess says, her face wan.

“An hour?” your best friend says. “There’s nothing you can do?”

Of course, both of you know there isn’t, but it’s still disappointing when the hostess shakes her head regretfully.

“Would you like me to put your names down?” she says.

“Give us a minute,” you say. She nods, and you and your best friend walk a ways away. As soon as you’re out of the hostess’s earshot, you frown. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize it would genuinely be this busy.”

“It’s okay, I wasn’t expecting it either,” she says, exhaling heavily. “I would’ve been way more serious about being on time if I had.”

“What should we do now? I don’t mind waiting,” you say.

“It’s okay. I’m a little hungry, so we can go somewhere else and come back here another day,” she says.

“Are you sure?” you say.

“Yeah, I am. Let’s go,” she says.

You’re heading towards the door when a robust voice stops you. At first, neither of you are sure if the speaker is referring to you, but when it becomes obvious he is, you turn around in confusion.

“Where are you guys going?” he says. It’s a man with dark hair and eyes like mismatched marbles, and he’s sitting at a table with two others. There’s a couple of empty seats, and he motions towards them. “We’ve been waiting for you two for forever!”

“Oh, you’re in their party?” the hostess says. You glance at your best friend, who mouths why not? at you, and then you smile at the hostess.

“Yes, we are,” you say.

“You should’ve said so from the start,” she says, shaking her head. “Right this way, please.”

You and your best friend follow after her, both of you more than a little lost at the turn of events, but who are you to turn down the offer? Sure, you don’t know any of the three, but at least this way you two didn’t drive out for no reason, and the restaurant’s crowded enough that if they have nefarious intentions, you should be able to get help relatively quickly.

As you sit down and the hostess offers you menus, you can’t help but glance at the three boys, wondering what exactly it is they want from you. Is this some elaborate scam? An effort to get you to pay for their dinner? You can’t tell. They’re unreadable, and all you can do is hope that the meal still goes as well as you had originally planned — otherwise, you’ll be really mad that you’re not at home instead.

When Niko had first suggested calling ahead to make reservations, Aiku had privately considered him to be a nerd, and one of the idiotic variety, no less. A lethal combo. But outwardly he had nodded along and told him to go right ahead, mostly because it seemed like the kind of thing Barou would appreciate. Now, though, he’s glad that Niko had that kind of foresight, because the place is completely packed.

“Where’s the rest of your party?” the hostess says when they walk in and give her Barou’s name. Aiku doesn’t really know why Niko made reservations under Barou’s name, nor what the hostess means by the ‘rest of their party’, but she’s pretty, so he gives her a charming smile. She’s working now, so he can’t exactly push Barou towards her, but if he’s talking about himself…

She blushes and ducks her head, although the moment is ruined by Niko speaking up.

“What do you mean, the rest of our party?” he says.

“You made a reservation for five, didn’t you?” she says, leading them to the table. Aiku exchanges looks with Barou, mostly because the two of them tower over the others, so it’s convenient, but Barou seems as confused as Aiku is. Both of them clearly heard Niko making the reservation for only three people, so how in the world had the hostess written down five?

“Uh,” Niko says, and then for some reason he’s turning towards Aiku for help? Aiku’s kind of distracted, though, both with celebrating the moment he just had with Barou and with discerning the color of lipstick the hostess is wearing (red or pink?), so when she directs her question to him, he admittedly panics a bit.

“Will the rest of them be arriving later?” she says.

“Yes,” Aiku says. Coral! That’s the shade he was looking for.

“No worries,” the hostess says. “Although you might want to tell them to hurry up, just in case.”

“Wait, what—?” Aiku begins, but she’s already dropping menus in front of them and racing off to take care of the next group of customers.

“You fucking donkey,” Barou said. “Who else is coming to this?”

“Nobody that I know of,” Niko says. “I only made a reservation for three. She must’ve gotten confused and written down five or something like that, but why’d you go along with it, Aiku?”

“Um,” Aiku says.

“What unparalleled eloquence,” Barou says.

Aiku’s mind is racing. Firstly, he’s accidentally confused this poor hostess into expecting two more people, and secondly, how are he and Niko supposed to set Barou up with a girl in this kind of situation? The food may be great, but the ambiance isn’t exactly what they’re looking for.

Somehow, these two lines of thought get muddled into one solution, the catalyst of which is when he sees two girls heading towards the door, obviously disheartened by the long wait time for those idiots who didn’t make reservations.

Wait. If those two are girls, and two plus three is five, then Barou might just end this night no longer single!

Another quick recovery by Oliver Aiku. He’s getting better and better by the minute.

“Hi,” the man who called you over says. “I’m Oliver Aiku.”

“Hi,” you say. The five-person table is a circle, and Aiku’s across from you; since it’s your fault that you’re sitting with these random guys instead of by yourselves, you squeeze between your best friend and the more intimidating-looking one, leaving her to be on the right side of the youngest boy in the group. “Y/N L/N.”

“Nice to meet you,” he says.

“Likewise,” you say.

“I’m Niko,” the younger boy says. He has dark hair falling into a heart-shaped face, and you can’t fully see his eyes, but you think they might be some shade of bluish green. Idly, you wonder how his vision isn’t horrible given how overgrown his bangs are, but he doesn’t seem to be having any problems, so you suppose he must have some kind of method around it. “And that’s Barou.”

“I can introduce myself,” the one at your side snaps. He’s by far the most handsome of the trio, although you’re sure your best friend would disagree — she has bad taste, though, so that’s irrelevant — with a regal face and sharp eyes. His dark hair is spiky and his eyes are a vivid crimson, narrowed with irritation while his mouth tugs into a perfect frown. “My name is Barou.”

“It’s a pleasure, Barou,” you say.

“Yeah,” he says. “Same here.”

More than being a pleasure, it’s a little tense, so you return to reading your menu, not knowing what else to say, hoping someone else says something soon and rescues you from the ensuing silence.

This is bad. Almost as bad as Japan’s performance in the last U-20 World Cup, which occurred right before Aiku moved up and joined the team. Almost as bad as that stain Lorenzo’s marinara left on the carpet. It’s that level of catastrophic, because clearly, Barou will take a lot more encouragement than originally anticipated. Kicking Niko under the table, Aiku nods meaningfully at Barou, who is also reading his menu, sitting next to the girl who’s doing the same.

It’s the perfect opportunity for small talk. Occasionally, the girl will peek at him over the top of his menu, so she’s clearly not affronted by him — either that, or she’s deathly afraid that Barou will kill her and is making sure he doesn’t do that when she’s distracted. If the latter is the case, well, it’s not entirely unfounded.

Solving the conundrum which has presented itself is even more difficult than their game against PXG was. How is Aiku supposed to flirt with someone for Barou? She’ll just end up liking him, which is rather counterintuitive, given that the end goal is to get Barou a girlfriend.

If only Barou weren’t so stubborn! Aiku’s put him in the perfect spot, but instead of just reaching out his hand and snatching the opportunity up with both metaphorical hands, he’s sitting there, utterly absorbed by the intricacies of the restaurant’s entrees, which Aiku surmises are no doubt fascinating to people with such sensibilities.

It’s the girl, Y/N, who breaks the silence again. Clearing her throat and setting the menu aside, her eyes dart around the table before settling on Aiku. A natural consequence, given his dashing looks and genial personality, but not the one they’re hoping for at the moment, not in the slightest.

“We don’t know you, right?” she says.

“I don’t think so,” Aiku says. Has he gone out with her before? He’s pretty sure he’d have remembered if he had, but you can never be careful these days.

“Then why’d you invite us to sit with you?” she says.

Aiku’s in desperate need of an assist, and there’s only one person who’ll reliably send him one. Besides, the kid owes him a favor, so he doesn’t even feel guilty when he makes a face at Niko, as if indicating that he should be the one to answer the query.

“It was Barou’s idea!” Niko says.

“Excuse me?” Barou says.

“What?” Aiku says.

“Yeah, it was. He felt bad that you guys were going to leave without eating, and we accidentally booked a table for five instead of three, like we originally planned, so he told Aiku to stop you guys before you were gone,” Niko explains.

“Oh, that was very sweet of you!” Y/N says. “Thank you so much. We both really appreciate it.”

Under the table, Aiku gives Niko a thumbs-up. Niko returns the gesture in kind, though neither of them let their true emotions show on their faces, which must be carefully schooled into blankness so that nobody else catches on to their scheming.

“You’re welcome,” Barou says before freezing as he realizes that he’s somehow fallen for Niko’s lie, despite being there to witness the truth of the events. “Wait, no, it wasn’t—”

“Barou’s super considerate,” Niko continues, cutting Barou’s correction off. Aiku could just about cry. Niko’s a natural-born talent! He could never have predicted the younger boy’s sheer skill at this kind of thing. “Do you watch soccer?”

“Not really,” Y/N says thoughtfully. “I’ve never understood it well enough to become an avid fan, and my father prefers baseball, so it’s not something my family is into. I think it’s really cool, though!”

“Barou plays,” Niko says.

“So do you guys,” Barou says.

“Yeah, but you’re sitting next to her,” Niko says. “And you’re the king, right? Who better than you to explain the sport?”

“She didn’t ask for that,” Barou says, glowering at Niko and Aiku alike. “Why would I do that?”

“I don’t mind,” Y/N says, even going so far as to smile at Barou. With a final suspicious glare at the two of them, Barou begins to explain the rules of the game to her, and Aiku takes advantage of his distraction to high-five Niko.

“You’re amazing,” he whispers. “Where’d you learn this shit?”

“I watch a lot of anime,” Niko whispers back. “This is a classic set up for a twelve-episode romance that teaches the viewers about friendship, love, and what it means to grow up.”

“That’s not what I was expecting,” Aiku says after digesting this latest revelation, finding that it makes a surprising amount of sense. “But hey, whatever works!”

“Exactly,” Niko says. “Do you think it’s weird if I order chicken fingers from the children’s menu?”

“Order whatever you want, kid,” Aiku says. “You deserve it. I’ll even pay.”

“Yay!” Niko says. “Chicken fingers it is.”

Aiku doesn’t even mind treating him. If this is successful, then he’ll buy Niko all of the chicken fingers in the world in thanks.

You’re more than a little grateful that Niko has given you something to talk to Barou about. Your best friend is busy texting her crush, the gerbil-looking one, who has apparently responded to her story, so you would’ve had to sit there in silence until she finished up or someone took pity on your helpless self. In this way, though, it’s much more natural, and even if it really was just an example of Niko feeling bad for you, it didn’t come across as such.

“You really scored a goal against the Japanese U-20 team?” you say after Barou has finished a long-winded explanation on the rules of soccer and some of the highlights of his career in the sport. In truth, you mostly tuned out the more technical details, but you have to admit that some of the things he’s mentioned about himself are rather interesting.

“Yes,” he says.

“Wow,” you say. “You must be good, then.”

He shrugs in acknowledgement. “I’m good.”

It doesn’t feel like he’s bragging or anything like that. He’s just acknowledging an inevitable truth. He’s good. The way he says it, no one can deny it — not that you would’ve. Based on his build alone, you’d have expected him to have talent as an athlete; the things he’s mentioned have only been confirmation of that initial prediction, rather than blowing your mind in any significant way.

“Hi!” Your waitress’s arrival with a tray full of drinks cuts your conversation with Barou short, which you’re surprised to find you’re a little put-out by, at least until the grumble of your stomach reminds you of why you came to the restaurant in the first place. “Are you all ready to order?”

“I want the chicken fingers,” Niko says.

“The chicken fingers from the twelve and under menu? How old are you?” she says.

“Twelve,” Niko says. You frown, leaning closer to Barou in order to murmur in his ear.

“Is he actually?”

Barou shakes his head ever so slightly. “No, but if that’s the only way he can get chicken fingers…”

“That’s a fair point,” you say. The waitress seems to share your doubts, but then Aiku flashes her a warm grin.

“My little brother’s heard so much about your entrees, and he can’t wait to try the, er, chicken fingers. Yes. The chicken fingers. He’s been talking about them all week,” he explains.

“Are they—?” you begin.

“They met like a month ago,” Barou says, rolling his eyes. “No relation whatsoever.”

“I see,” you say. You almost have to admire the lengths they’re willing to go to, as well as how natural they are with it. “Huh. I guess if it works, it works.”

“One order of chicken fingers, then!” the waitress says, jotting it down on her notepad, returning Aiku’s grin with her own. He has that kind of enviable charisma that lets him get away with a lot more than he should, and you’re more than a little jealous. “And the rest of you?”

You all give her your orders, and she promises she’ll be back quickly before running back to the kitchen. Once again, you’re left to your own devices, and given that your best friend is still texting that guy, you decide you’ll try and talk to the others at your table.

“Barou told me you guys are all in some program called Blue Lock together,” you say. “What’s that like? It sounded super intense.”

“It is,” Aiku scoffs. “I don’t even know if we’re supposed to be here at the moment.”

“We got permission from our coach,” Niko says. “But the guy who runs the program is kind of…what’s the word?”

“Freaky?” Aiku says.

“That works,” Niko says.

“I didn’t realize we were dining with rebels,” you say.

“For the record, I was dragged into coming by those two,” Barou says.

“We didn’t actually drag him,” Aiku reassures you. “I mean, we tried, but he’s super heavy.”

“Too much training,” Niko says. “Barou, you should flex for Y/N — I mean, for everyone.”

“Hell no,” Barou says. “In public? Don’t be shameless.”

“So you’ll do it in private, then?” Aiku says.

“That’s — that’s not what I meant!” Barou sputters. “I won’t do it at all!”

“Y/N, if you get a subscription to Blue Lock TV, then forget about asking Barou to flex. You can just watch him work out. He does it shirtless,” Aiku says. You choke on your water.

“What are you, some kind of salesman?” you say, coughing to dislodge the droplets of liquid scratching at your throat. “Was inviting us to sit with you a kindness or an advertisement?”

“Can’t it be both?” Aiku says.

“No, it cannot, you fucking donkey!” Barou says. “Please ignore him. I don’t know what he’s talking about.”

“You do train without a shirt on, though,” Niko says. “Quite often. Actually, now that I’m thinking about it, there’s a lot of shirtless content on Blue Lock TV…Chris Prince stripped at one point, I’m pretty sure, and more than one of the Bastard München boys have had locker room features. I guess PXG is the only team without any fan service, since Barcha has Lavinho as a coach, and we all know how he is.”

“Good for them. You gotta give credit where it’s due,” Aiku says.

“Agreed,” Niko says. “Hey, Barou, didn’t you take your shirt off after scoring in the game against the U-20s, too? Is it like an established habit or something?”

“Enough about my shirt,” Barou says through gritted teeth.

“Or lack thereof,” Aiku adds. There’s a baleful aura emanating off of Barou, and he doesn’t even need to say anything before Aiku winces like he’s been cowed. “Sorry. The opportunity presented itself.”

“Both of you are on thin ice. First you abducted me, and now you’re going on about this dumbass subject? And that’s not to mention the sauce stain from earlier. I bet neither of you cleaned it up,” Barou says.

Aiku and Niko both look like they have been caught committing some crime. Barou’s about to snap, it’s very obvious, but you find his friends’ antics to be so amusing that you hesitantly pat him on the shoulder.

“Ah, I think they’re just teasing you. It’s common amongst people who are close to one another! I always make fun of my best friend for her taste in men,” you say.

“And I make fun of yours right back,” your best friend says, not even looking up from her phone. You roll your eyes at this.

“See? It’s really alright,” you say. “At the least, if you’re upset because we’re here, then don’t be. Neither of us mind. I mean, she’s not even paying attention to us. Too busy texting that Meriones unguiculatus of a man she deems crush-worthy.”

“Fuck you,” your best friend says. She ordinarily would have no idea what Meriones unguiculatus means, but given the context, you’re sure she’s figured it out.

“Don’t be mad because I’m right,” you say. “Anyways, like I was saying, it’s all good.”

There’s a strained moment where none of you know what Barou will do, but then he nods, crossing his arms and sticking his nose in the air.

“Fine,” he says. “I’ll let it slide, just this once. But the two of you better behave from now on, you got it?”

Aiku and Niko both seem to be so amazed that it’s a wonder they don’t salute at Barou’s barked-out order. Shaking your head and laughing, you decide it might be for the best if you try to talk to Barou yourself and leave his slightly problematic companions out of the conversation.

“So,” you say, to him and only him. “What’s the story behind the sauce stain?”

“Holy shit,” Aiku says.

“I know,” Niko says.

“She’s a genius. A god. A fucking Barou whisperer,” he says.

“I know,” Niko says.

“What are the odds that we managed to find the exact girl that could put up with his bullshit?” Aiku says.

“Pretty high!” a new voice chimes in. It’s Y/N’s friend; she never introduced herself, and it doesn’t seem like she’s inclined to, but she inconspicuously slides her chair closer to where he and Niko are talking. “You guys are trying to set your friend up with Y/N, huh? Good luck. She only likes ugly dudes.”

“Barou’s…kind of ugly?” Niko tries. Aiku snorts.

“Let’s keep it honest here,” he says. “Anyways, what were you talking about earlier? Barou’s a nutcase. It’s, like, a miracle that Y/N’s managing to have a conversation with him.”

“Maybe he’s like that with you, but to me, he seems to be the type that’s totally respectful to women,” Y/N’s friend says, brandishing her index finger in the air as if she’s making a particularly salient point. “The bigger the muscles, the bigger the heart, isn’t that ”

“Is that a real saying?” Niko says.

“No, I just made it up,” Y/N’s friend says. “But it kind of fits in this instance, don’t you think?”

“You’re not wrong,” Aiku says. “But do you mean to say Barou would be this nice to any girl?”

“It’s not like I know him personally. Shouldn’t you be able to answer that better than me?” Y/N’s friend says.

“There aren’t any girls in Blue Lock,” Niko says. “This is the first time we’ve seen him interact with one, so we actually have no idea.”

“Ah,” she says. “That explains a lot. Anyways, yeah, if I had to guess, he would be.”

“Hm,” Aiku says. This throws a definite wrench in their plans — up until this point, he had been convinced that there were sparks flying between Y/N and Barou, mostly because he had never seen Barou so gentle and quick to calm down in his life. Yet, if Y/N’s friend is telling the truth, and he has no reason to think she isn’t, then this is actually just his true personality.

On the one hand, it’s comforting to know that Barou isn’t constantly on the verge of an aneurysm, and indeed can even be persuaded towards kindness in his day-to-day life. On the other, it doesn’t solve their problem, which is getting him to calm down when he’s interacting with his fellow Ubers teammates.

Aiku comes to a decision relatively quickly. It’s his experience as a captain which lends him that swiftness; on the field, split-second decisions are the only way to go. He’s good at taking information and rapidly synthesizing it to come up with workable solutions, and though this isn’t a soccer match, the stakes are almost just as high.

The facts of the situation are as follows: Y/N does not seem to mind talking to Barou, and given that they’ve been engaged in conversation almost this entire time, the inverse is also likely true. Furthermore, she’s proven able to persuade him not to freak out at himself and Niko when they were pushing his buttons, which is something no one has ever managed before and is somewhat the end goal of the outing. Of course, she apparently only likes ugly guys, and Barou’s far from ugly — as a fellow member of the non-ugly community, Aiku is confident in saying this — but things like that are subjective, so he decides he shouldn’t worry too much about that aspect.

Then there are the theories, namely Y/N’s best friend’s one about how any girl might have a similar effect on Barou. This could be true, or it could also not be, but Aiku only has one data point and a limited amount of time to work with, so despite the likely veracity, he has to set it aside as false for the time being. It’s not like there’s an endless supply of girls just hanging around for him to test out Barou’s reactions with, so in this moment, he’s deeming Y/N L/N as a special case, an outlier, and this can only lead to one conclusion:

Barou is totally into her.

“Two younger sisters, really?” you say. While your best friend has been talking to Aiku and Niko in hushed tones, you’ve been preoccupied with Barou, who’s proven himself to be nothing like his first impression. You had expected him to be fussy and rude and intimidating, and while the latter adjective certainly still applies, he’s kind instead of spiteful and almost shy instead of brash.

“Yeah,” he says, and there’s a smile in his voice, although his face does not shift in the slightest. “They’re much smaller, so I look after them a lot — when I’m home, anyways. Obviously, I haven’t seen them since I’ve been at Blue Lock.”

“How sweet of you,” you say. “I bet your mother appreciates you a lot.”

“I try to help her whenever I can,” he says.

You’re about to internally swoon, but then you stop yourself. So what if he’s athletic, helps his mother, is tall, handsome, kind, muscular, and supposedly good with kids? That doesn’t mean anything. He probably has a girlfriend, anyways, given all of these positive attributes—

“I have to go to the bathroom,” you say, standing up. Your best friend looks over at you in concern, for she knows of your distaste for public restrooms, and then she, too, stands.

“Want me to come?” she says.

“Yes,” you say, striding off without further explanation. As soon as the two of you are far enough from the table, you give her a distressed look. “I need help.”

“What’s up?” she says.

“I think—”

“Are you into Barou?” she asks, cutting you off. You blink at her.

“How did you know?” you say.

“You’ve spent almost the entire time talking only to him. It’s a little obvious,” she says.

“Oh, no,” you say. “He’s definitely caught on, then!”

“It’s not a big deal. According to Aiku and Niko, he’s single, so that’s one thing you don’t have to worry about, and besides, if that’s the case, then he’s fair game, isn’t he? There’s nothing wrong with being interested in someone,” she says.

“He’s single? How?” you say. “You’re telling me no one’s been interested in him yet? That’s impossible.”

“There is the whole ‘locked away in a facility with zero girls’ aspect to be considered…” she says.

“Well, that’s true,” you say, feeling dumb for having forgotten that. “Do you think he’s interested in me?”

“He’s been talking to you back, right? That’s a good sign, especially since he’s been ignoring his friends to do so,” she says. “There’s a decent chance. If anything, does he seem like the kind of guy that would be mean about rejecting you? You should just ask him for his number when we get back.”

“Me? Ask for his number?” you say.

“I’ve heard girls have high success rates when they approach guys that they’re into. What’s the worst that can happen? Either way, the three of them are heading back to some weird facility after tonight, so we can just leave and never see them again if it’s awkward,” she says.

You mull this over. Nothing she’s saying is wrong, and anyways, it’s been a while since you dated someone. Besides, you’ll probably not meet someone like Barou again for a long, long time, and when you really think about it, you’d rather live with a rejection than a what-if scenario floating around in your mind for the rest of your life.

“Alright,” you say. “I’ll do it, but that means you have to dump the gerbil dude and move on.”

“Did that earlier. I couldn’t stop thinking of Tinkerbell the gerbil whenever I saw his profile picture; it totally killed the mood. Thanks a lot,” she says.

“It’s my pleasure,” you say. “Now, let’s go back. I have a number to get!”

“Um, hold on,” she says. “I do actually have to pee, and the bathroom doesn’t seem too dirty.”

You sigh, because now that you’re this pumped up, you don’t want to delay any longer, but you’re not about to abandon her, so you nod towards the door.

“I’ll wait here, then. Be quick!”

“Well, well, well,” Aiku says. “Who would’ve thought we’d get to see the day?”

“What are you talking about?” Barou says when he notices that both Aiku and Niko are looking at him.

“What aren’t we talking about?” Aiku says.

“It’s Y/N,” Niko says, defusing the volatile atmosphere rather efficiently. Aiku hands him a French fry off of his plate as a form of praise; accepting it happily, Niko chews and swallows before continuing. “You like her, right?”

“What? No,” Barou says quickly — too quickly, which means the answer is the opposite of what he’s just said. Aiku steeples his fingers together, because he couldn’t have imagined things going any better, and he feels like he’s entitled to a villainous pose or two every now and again.

“You’ve been talking to her the entire time we’ve been eating, and you didn’t yell at her when she told you to calm down,” Aiku says.

“That doesn’t mean anything,” Barou says.

“I guess it’s for the better,” Niko says. “Her friend told us she has a boyfriend.”

Aiku’s about to reprimand him for making things up, but before he can, he sees out of the corner of his eye that the tips of Barou’s ears have turned a surprisingly light and rosy pink, and then he can only shake his head in amazement. Niko’s really fucking good at this. Aiku almost wonders if he should ask the kid for anime recommendations or something.

“Really?” Barou says.

“Really,” Niko says.

“That’s — I mean, it’s none of my business, so why are you telling me?” Barou says.

“You’re awfully upset if that’s the case,” Aiku points out.

“I’m not upset!” Barou says. “Just…I wasn’t expecting her not to be single, that’s all.”

“Expecting, or hoping?” Aiku says. Barou glares at him but does not respond, which tells Aiku all he needs to know. “It’s okay for you to have a crush on her. She seems nice enough.”

“Yeah,” Niko says. “If you guys get along, then there’s no harm in just asking her out. We’re going back to Blue Lock after dinner anyways, so it’s not like you’ll see her in the future if you don’t want to. Can you live with yourself if you don’t give it a shot?”

“Aren’t you a king?” Aiku urges. “What kind of king doesn’t put his best foot forward at all times?”

“The kind of king that respects other people’s relationships, you chewed up wad of spearmint gum,” Barou says.

“Oh, I was just making that up,” Niko says. “I wanted to see how you’d react. She’s definitely single.”

“You—!”

Aiku and Niko are saved from another one of Barou’s tirades by the arrival of Y/N and her friend. With a final malevolent sneer, Barou continues to talk to Y/N, who seems eager to pick up where they left off. Aiku high-fives Niko under the table.

“You’re a genius, buddy,” he says.

“Does this mean you’ll buy me dessert, too?” Niko says.

“If you’ll share with me, then sure.”

“Deal.”

“When should I ask him for his number? It’ll be awkward if I do it in front of everyone, I think,” you say.

“Why would it be awkward?” she says. “I’m not about to judge you. I already know you’re going to do it.”

“I was talking about Aiku and Niko,” you say, though you’re specifically referring to Aiku — there’s a sense of naïveté to Niko, so the thought of being so bold in front of him doesn’t make you squeamish, but it’s a difference case with his counterpart. Oliver Aiku has a sort of suaveness to him that makes you feel as though he’s not been rejected once in his life, and that’s more than a little terrifying. What might such a master say about your feeble attempts at flirting? You don’t want to imagine it. The mere beginnings of the thought are preemptively giving you hives, so having the thought fully formed, or heaven forbid the actual event occurring…you shudder at the plethora of side effects you’ll no doubt undergo.

“That’s fair,” she says. “I can distract them, if you want. While we’re getting dessert, I’ll tell Aiku I’m having car trouble and ask if he can take a look. He seems like the kind of guy that would fall for that. I don’t know what to do about Niko, though…”

“He’ll probably go with Aiku, but even if he doesn’t, I think it’ll be fine if it’s just him there,” you say. “He’s pretty harmless.”

“You better not wimp out, then! If I have to embarrass myself by pretending to know nothing about cars, then the least you can do is actually ask for his number,” she says.

“I’ll do it!” you say. She obviously doesn’t believe you, so you pout. “Promise I will.”

“Fine,” she says.

“Fine,” you say.

“Fine!” she says again. “Just give me a second before we go back, then. I need to think of what kinds of issues my car will be having…”

“Hey, Aiku,” Y/N’s friend says. The entire table falls silent, including Aiku himself — he’s more than a little confused about what she could want with him. After all, he’s not done anything that would seem like he’s trying to pursue her, so there’s no reason for her to believe he’s interested, and it’s not like they’re close enough for her to be talking to him in specific.

“What’s up?” he says.

“My car is making a weird sound when it starts. I was going to wait to ask my dad when I got home, but if you know anything about cars, could you maybe…?” she says.

Aiku knows nothing about cars, and he’s about to tell her as much, but then Niko of all people is answering. He hasn’t heard the boy talk this much since they met, which means he’s really getting into this.

“Sure, we can both take a look while we wait for dessert to come,” he says. It’s suspicious, because if Aiku knows nothing about cars, then Niko’s understanding has to be in the negatives. The kid doesn’t even have his driver’s license yet, so how would he be of any help? Unless this is another skill he’s picked up from watching anime, in which case it seems like that’s another hobby Aiku needs to take up.

“Thanks,” Y/N’s friend says, clearly relieved. “Y/N, do you mind staying back so no one takes our table?”

“Barou, keep her company,” Niko says. “We don’t want them thinking we’re the dine-and-dash type.”

“It’s okay with me,” Y/N says before Barou can argue, which effectively shuts Barou up. Aiku’s beloved teammate only grunts in agreement, watching the trio out of the corner of his eyes as they scurry out of the restaurant and begin to wander about aimlessly in the parking lot.

“Can you, uh, describe this noise to me?” Aiku says. It’s not like that knowledge will really change much for him, but he thinks that it might be better if he at least pretends to put forth some effort into assisting the girl. After all, it’d be bad for business if he gets flamed as the rude, unhelpful type.

“Huh? Oh, I made that up,” she says.

“As I expected,” Niko says.

“What? Why would you do that?” Aiku says. Then he comes to a realization, and it’s like a bucket of ice water has been poured over his head. “Hold on just a second, I’m not the one looking for—”

“That was a great method of leaving Y/N and Barou alone,” Niko says, cutting Aiku off before he can continue to embarrass himself. “Now they can figure things out between themselves.”

“Right?” Y/N’s friend says. “There’s only so much they can do when we’re all sitting there.”

“Yeah, awesome idea,” Aiku says, relieved to hear that she’s on their side. Girls take their friends’ opinions seriously. If Y/N’s best friend approves of Barou, then that’s a plus in Barou’s favor, and given Barou’s uniqueness, he needs all of the pluses he can get.

“And just so you know, you’re not my type, so don’t take any of this in a weird way. I just want Y/N to be happy,” she continues.

“Duly noted,” Aiku says.

“Sorry I wasn’t faster in cutting you off,” Niko whispers when Y/N’s friend pulls out her phone and begins to play on it again. Aiku shrugs.

“No worries. Nobody’s perfect,” he says. “Although, honestly? If this night ends up the way we want it to, then I’d say you’re pretty damn close regardless.”

“I’m really sorry,” Barou says as soon as your best friend, Aiku, and Niko have exited the building.

“For what?” you say. The crowd is dwindling, for the restaurant is nearing its closing time, but it’s still busy enough that you have to stay close to him in order to be able to hear what he’s saying. Or maybe that’s an excuse you’ve made for yourself; either way, he doesn’t pull back, so you remain in the comfortable space between you both.

“Aiku,” he says. “Also Niko, but mostly Aiku.”

“Why? He’s not done anything too horrible,” you say. “He’s pretty funny. And Niko seems like a nice boy.”

“They have this idea in their mind,” he says. “It’s totally stupid, but that’s why they’re acting like this. They’re not usually quite as idiotic.”

“What do you mean?” you say. You almost want to tell him to hurry up so you can ask for his number before the others come back and your best friend gets upset with you, but you’d rather listen to him talk, and anyways once you ask him for his number there’s a chance things will go wrong, so you want to soak in these last few seconds before that happens.

“I mean, you know,” he says, and then he’s turning a color you never would’ve expected from someone as reputedly tough as him. “Just that they think I like you.”

“Like me?” you say.

“Yeah,” he says. “Like I’m into you or something.”

You had hoped for it, but not seriously considered it — although, the teasing and whatnot do make a little more sense now that he’s added this context to it. If Aiku and Niko think he might be into you…you know you shouldn’t be fanciful, that it’ll eventually lead to disappointment, but you want to. You really want to, so when you next speak it’s tentative but optimistic.

“If you are,” you begin, nervous more than anything, though you’re certain the only cure is getting this over with, “I am, too. Into you, I mean.”

Barou’s lips are still parted as if he’s about to say something, but no words escape him. He just sits there and stares at you, as if you’ve said something profound or shocking or both. Probably both. You giggle, shifting in your seat and adjusting your position, because seeing him like this is endearing as much as it is uncomfortable.

“If you’re not, it’s alright, but my friend told me I should ask you for your number or something, so I don’t have any regrets when we leave,” you say. “She’s right, too. I’d have felt horrible forever if I never said anything.”

He’s still silent. You question if you’ve somehow caused him to malfunction, so you nudge his foot with your own under the table. This does nothing to break him out of his daze, and then you realize he’s probably trying to figure out how to best reject you, so you sigh.

“It’s okay to say no. There’s no expectation on my part. I just wanted to get it out there,” you say.

“No!” he says.

“Well, I mean, you didn’t have to be exuberant about it,” you mutter to yourself before smiling. “That’s okay, though! Thank you for listening and talking to me—”

“I mean, yes. No. I don’t know which question I’m supposed to be answering!” he says. “I do like you. That’s what I’m trying to say, but you just said so many things that I didn’t know what to respond to.”

“You like me?” you say. You had never in your wildest fantasies imagined someone like Barou being into you. It was the kind of thing that just didn’t happen, and yet, somehow, it had. Barou liked you.

“I guess so,” he says. “That’s how Aiku would phrase it, I think. I enjoy talking to you, and you have nice table manners. You kept your hands and surroundings clean, and you didn’t spill anything, which is more than can be said about a lot of people. I really appreciate that kind of trait in a person.”

“Uh, thanks?” you say, because you’ve not really been complimented on your table manners before, but it’s kind of sweet. “Yeah, thanks. I’d compliment you back, but there’s so many things to say that I wouldn’t know where to start…”

“How about with your phone number?” he says. You’re pretty sure that that’s uncharacteristically bold of him, because his eyes widen as soon as he comprehends what he’s said, but he doesn’t take it back. Instead, he waits, his hands folded carefully in his lap as he watches you, probably wondering what you’ll say in response to the request.

Smiling at him, you pull out your phone and open your hand, waiting for him to give you his.

“You got her number?” Aiku says as they’re driving home. Niko’s in the backseat this time, mostly because he offhandedly mentioned feeling nauseous after eating and Aiku has no interest in getting vomit all over him. “Way to go, man.”

“It’s not a big deal,” Barou says, gazing out of the window mysteriously. “I can’t exactly take her on dates or anything while I’m stuck in Blue Lock.”

“If you get Snuffy’s permission, you could,” Aiku says.

“We probably shouldn’t abuse that,” Niko says. “Otherwise, Ego will come up with some insane punishment for all of us. The guy’s a super-freak. I’m sure he’s got some crazy stuff stored away.”

“Very true,” Aiku says. “Don’t worry too much, though, Barou. If she’s the one, she won’t mind waiting.”

“How can I know if she’s the one when we’ve only met once? You’re delusional,” Barou says.

“It’s pretty simple,” Aiku says. “Do you want her to be?”

The moonlight hits Barou in a particularly elegant way at that moment. Aiku’s suddenly not surprised that Niko’s anime intelligence worked so well — Barou seems straight out of a girlish romance novel or TV show or something along those lines just then.

“Yeah,” he says. “I do.”

“Then that’s that!” Aiku says, pulling into the garage and putting Snuffy’s car in park. “Trust me, there was major chemistry there, so I’m sure she’s of the same opinion.”

“It’ll work out,” Niko agrees. He’s clearly feeling much better now that they’re not in the car, his steps light and bouncy, his lips curving upwards at the corners. “You’re a great guy, Barou. We were talking about it earlier.”

Barou scoffs. “Of course I am.”

“Classic Barou,” Aiku says, throwing his arm around Barou’s shoulder. “So humble.”

“Get off of me,” Barou grumbles, shoving Aiku away, though there’s a marked gentleness to it that tells Aiku their plan worked. He’s excited to see the long-term effects — if only one dinner with Y/N was enough for Barou to relax this much, then the duration of their relationship might be akin to a vacation for the rest of the Ubers.

That night, Aiku and Niko are brushing their teeth in the bathrooms together, since nobody else is up and there’s a certain camaraderie built between them after their adventure.

“We did good today, Niko,” Aiku says after spitting his toothpaste into the sink.

“Agreed,” Niko says.

The door slams open right after he does, which is horribly ironic timing, because it reveals a furious Barou. He’s already enormous, but his fury causes him to swell until his proportions are vaguely Hulk-like and entirely terrifying. Both Aiku and Niko glance at him in confusion, because he should have no reason to be upset, and then, right before he can start yelling, it hits them like a truck.

“Hey, you donkeys,” Barou hisses. “Did you think you could distract me by taking me to dinner? That stain is still there. Can neither of you do anything for yourselves? I’m going to kill you both, mark my words!”

Aiku groans. Niko face-palms.

Fuck.

#barou x reader #barou x you #barou x y/n #barou shoei #bllk x reader #bllk #blue lock #reader insert #modern au #oliver aiku’s guide to getting girls #m1ckeyb3rry writes

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dregs-leftovers-parsley · 5 months

Text

trying to make a list of 70’s to early 80’s proto-yuri, if you know of any series i should add to this list please reach out!

also please check out this list of 20th century yuri, it has a broader definition and larger timescale but it's been immensely helpful in the curation of my own list so far

updated as of May 2: series are now ordered by year, titles and author names are listed in jp as well as english, some summaries updated, series added (sakura namiki, secret love, shiroi heya no futari, oniisama e, sakura no sono), summary sources are now listed at the end of each entry

updated as of August 21: all entries now include whether the manga has an english translation (and by what group) and whether i have personally finished it, some series added (utsukushii vampire, itoko valeria, hana no you na lilibet), added a link to the 20th century yuri list

“sakura namiki” / “さくら並木” (1957) - takahashi macoto / 高橋真琴 [read] [english fan translation by Lililicious]

-when yukiko throws a table tennis match against maki, an upper-classmen who she in love with she fears that she has driven a wedge in their friendship. As rumors and slander begin to swirl around the two girls Yukiko’s fear compounds. Will she be able to repair her friendship with Maki, and could this possibly even bring them closer than ever before? (my summary)

“Secret Love” / “シークレット・ラブ” (1970) - yashiro masako / 矢代まさこ [unread] [no english translation]

(no summary found)

“shiroi heya no futari” / “白い部屋のふたり” (1971) - yamagishi ryouko / 山岸凉子 [read] [english fan translation by Lililicious]

-Resine comes to a new boarding school to find she is rooming with Simone, a rebel who is rude to her from the start. However, Resine and Simone end up falling in love… (copied from mangadex)

“futaripocchi” / “ふたりぽっち” (1971) - riyoko ikeda / 池田理代子 [read] [no english translation]

-Kaoru, a poor girl and Reiko, the daughter of a wealthy family are on good terms and attend Aisei Girls' Academy together. These two, who had completely opposite upbringings and personalities, ended up becoming sisters when their parents remarried. Even as they rebel against each other and hurt each other, they gradually understand each other and deepen their bond, but eventually Reiko begins to develop romantic feelings for Kaoru. Attacked by the absurdities of society the beautiful sisters Kaoru and Reiko go on a journey, just the two of them. (translated from manga ookoku)

“maya no souretsu” / “摩耶の葬列” (1972) - ichijo yukari / 一条ゆかり [read] [english fan translation by Lililicious]

-A horror story, in which the main character and her family go to their summer house for vacation and people start dying one by one. The twist is that the main character, Reina, is falling in love with her mysterious neighbor, Maya. But who is Maya really, and how does she know so much about Reina's family? (copied from mangadex)

“utsukushii kyuuketski” / “美しき吸血鬼” (1971)- asuka sashiko / 飛鳥幸子 [read] [english fan translation by mangadex user MabitheBard]

-Lilah, an Austrian Count's daughter, is approached at a ball by Justine, an enchantingly beautiful woman of fellow Habsburg descent. The two quickly become friends, but little does Lilah know that Justine's keen interest in her may become a death sentence. (copied from mangadex)

“aries no otometachi” / “アリエスの乙女たち” (1973) - satonaka machiko / 里中満智子 [unread] [no english translation]

-Kubo Emiko and Mizuho Romi are two girls born under the Aries sign. Emiko is an earnest and innocent girl who grew up with gentle parents. On the other hand, Romi, who was raised by her fashion designer mother, has a fierce temper. Emiko admires Takashi from the equestrian club, but when she meets the strong and beautiful Romi, she gradually becomes attracted to her. Is this excitement... love? (translated from manga ookoku)

“yureru soushun" / “揺れる早春” (1973) - riyoko ikeda / 池田理代子 [read] [no english translation]

-Mako, who has excellent grades, is good at sports, and is popular, falls in love with Junko, a beautiful junior who is hated by all the female students at school. Mako is trapped by Junko's intense love and jealousy...!? (translated from manga ookoku)

“hana no you na lilibet” /花のようなリリベット (1974) watanabe masako / わたなべまさこ [read] [no english translation]

-Angel, who lives in the boarding school of Sandor Academy deep in the forest, has had recurring nightmares since childhood. she dreams of a sensation of something climbing ontop of her and that when she opens her eyes she sees the face of a beautiful girl. She wakes up screaming in pain, as though her chest had been pierced by sharp fangs. Her roommate, Agatha, vanishes one night and Lilibet, a girl as beautiful as a flower, appears in her place. As if seeing through Angel's heart, which is attracted to her beauty, Lilibet invites her into her room. "I've missed you, Angel. You're mine now..." Lilibet she whispers and embraces Angel, trying to steal her lips. Angel runs back to her room in shock, but Agatha, who had disappeared, has somehow returned. However, something is clearly wrong… unbelievable events occur one after another... (translated from manga ookoku)

“oniisama e” / “おにいさまへ“ (1974) - riyoko ikeda / 池田理代子 [read] [english fan translation by Lililicious]

-Nanako enrolls in Seiran Academy, a prestigious girls' school, which is a girl's paradise for gorgeous students known as " Lady Kaoru," "Saint Juste," and so on. The selection committee for the school's social group "Sorority," of which every new student dreams of joining, begins. Sorority members are selected by upperclassmen, who vote on their family background, education, appearance, and other factors. Nanako thought she had no connection to this world, but for some reason she was chosen as a candidate...? (copied from mangadex)

“hadashi no mei” / “裸足のメイ” (1974) - fukuhara hiroko / 福原ヒロ子 [read] [no english translation]

-May is an ordinary high school girl with a crush on the handsome Kido from the soccer club. Thanks to taking a convenient soccer ball to the face she gets a chance to strike up a friendship with him. But on the same day she also gets caught up with the mysterious Misaki Kayako, who has mistaken her for someone named “Maya”. (my summary)

”itoko valeria" / 従姉ヴァレリア (1975) - fukuhara hiroko / 福原ヒロ子 [unread] [no english translation]

-Every person has an encounter called fate. It comes whether we want it or not and guides us onto a set track. Encounter - and farewell. It's a turning point in life... Mona is ecstatic when she receives a letter from her cousin Valeria, who tells her that she's coming back after eight years. However, that was only the prologue to a spectacular story of unimaginable intrigue, love, and hatred... (translated from manga ookoku)

“kurenai ni moyu” / 真紅に燃ゆ (1979) - fukuhara hiroko / 福原ヒロ子 [read] [no english translation]

-Suzuna went to a shrine to see the double cherry blossoms in full bloom on her way home from school. However, she gets tangled up with the biker gang that was hanging out there and is about to be taken away when she is rescued by Sarasa, who happens to be passing by. Suzuna is immediately captivated by the sight of this gallant knight on a motorcycle, with her swaying red hair and feminine gestures. After that, Suzuna and Sarasa hit it off, but as they continue to be chased by biker gang members, a major incident involving the two develops...!! (translated from manga ookoku)

“umibe no kain” / “海辺のカイン” (1980) - kimura minori / 樹村みのり [unread] [no english translation]

-One day, Sano, a fashion designer who lives in a beach town, meets Nobuko, a woman who is trying to drink water from a tap at a park. Sano casually invites her to her home and gives her a ticket to an exhibition on the way home. At the exhibition, Sano feels as though she lost to a more popular designer, but Nobuko says she prefers her designs. On the way home, Nobuko confesses her troubles in not being able to dress femininely. Since she lives alone, they meet often and talk about their pasts. As Nobuko confesses her worries and receives advice from her, she begins to develop feelings for Sano. (translated from wikipedia)

“kanojotachi” / 彼女たち (1982) - kashi michiyo / 樫みちよ [read] [no english translation]

-On her first date with her boyfriend, Misono, a second year high school student, meets Ruiko, who looks like a beautiful young man. At the fashion show her boyfriend brought her to she sees Ruiko on stage as a model. Ruiko is a lesbian and is dating a friend of Misono’s brother, Susan. Misono becomes interested in Ruiko, and Ruiko is also attracted to Misono's purity, but... (translated from manga ookoku)

“ibutachi no heya” / イブたちの部屋 (1983) - nagahama sachiko / 長浜幸子 [unread] [no english translation]

(no summary found)

“sakura no sono” / “櫻の園” (1985) - yoshida akimi / 吉田秋生 [read] [english fan translation by Heterophobia Fansub]

-The drama club at Ouka Academy has a yearly tradition of putting on a production of Anton Checkov's The Cherry Orchard for the school's founding day festival. These interwoven tale of love and friendship focus on four girls in the drama club as they prepare for this year's presentation. (copied from mangadex)

#yuri posting

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trashmouth-richie · 6 months

Text

this promot was sent in by my lovely @joejoequinnquinn here.

prompt words were: chair, belt, “good girl” and smut 🧐

18+ no minors, talk of bdsm, two idiots in love, drug use, steve is mentioned in this off handedly, (i love adding him in at random) eddie, once again, talks about his dick, fluffy smut, Journey slander 😩, high activities, smut! be aware that the dialogue probably doesn’t make sense because they’re jenelle evans from teen mom 2 high

<1.3k eddie x fem reader

a trip to skull rock with a shared joint and a random piece of furniture, what could go wrong?

“Is this your idea of bdsm?”

Eddie tightens the belt around your wrists, a joint hanging slack from his lips, his eyes squinted with concentration, “FM?—the radio station?”

Looking back, it probably wasn’t the best idea to get higher than a kite on Easter with your boyfriend and then try to seduce one another. But alas, here you were.

The drive to skull rock was interesting to say the very least. Eddie claimed he knew how to get there only to have you traveling fifteen miles in the wrong direction— the ‘come back soon!’ sign should have been a giveaway.

“It’s an acro—af-ro—” your tongue felt like a piece of rubber in your mouth, you’d already mistaken it for gum once tonight, “Dan Aykroyd?”

“That guy from Ghost?”

The giggles took you over making you lose balance and tipping over the chair you were supposed to be sitting in, hitting the dirt with a soft little thud, hands still tied behind your back.

Eddie sat in the chair, looking down at you and shaking his head, knowing full well you both shouldn’t have smoked that last blunt. But you were so cute when you begged, he could never deny you.

“BDSM,” you continue, managing to sit up right, “it’s an acronym… but I dunno what for.”

“Oh, yeah—” Eddie scratched his head, eyes red and hazy, “I mean Harrington said it was pretty easy, and chicks went nuts over it, calling him ‘daddy’ and shit, begging to be choked.”

“‘Sir’ suits you better.”

“How about ‘Master’?”

“Now you’re pushin’ it.”

You’re intrigued. interests officially peaked as your scraped dirt under your nails, attempting a castle behind your back.

“Would I get a title? Is the peasant whore royal enough for such luxuries?”

Eddie frowns and puts the joint to your lips, “don’t call yourself that. I could punish you y’know.”

Your eyes widen as they follow the circle of smoke into the air, Eddie’s finger dancing around the center of it as if it were a ring.

He sighs audibly, loud like a bored child. Suddenly fixated on the chair he was sitting in.

“Did we bring this?”

You both burst into laughter, scaring away birds and monsters alike. Disrupting any bit of peace the forest animals had before two stoned idiots stumbled into the wilderness with a plan they had zero idea on how to execute.

BDSM in the woods, only Eddie Munson would think that was sexy.

He hoists you up, loosening the belt that was barely held on, holding your dirty hands in his, pulling you onto his lap so you’re straddling his narrow slutty boy hips.

Onyx would be jealous by your eyes alone, and Eddie’s looked downright demonic. Demon eyes in a cherubs face, that was your Eddie.

One of your favorite parts of being with him is how his weirdness meshed with yours. Whenever you got this high you could spend hours staring at his porcelain skin, wondering how in the hell he was crafted, molded, carved from the rarest of granite and marble stones and that he was yours— all yours.

Your hands walked across his face, counting his eyelashes to ten and starting again.

“Your lips are squishy,” you announce after a while of staring and not blinking,, “like gum— spongy, pink, could be almost made of cake.”

Eddie adored you, the way your eyebrows quirked like a cartoon when you were deep in thought or admiring his face.

“Definitely not cake, but you could taste them if you’d like?”

“Does it hurt?” you ask, removing your fingers from his mouth and squishing his cheeks.

“The boner you’re sitting on? Yeah, a bit.”

Your eyes widened in honest horror, “swear to God— I thought it was a flashlight.”

“Nope,” Eddie attempts a wink but ends up shutting both eyes for a collective six seconds, “that's all me baby.”

Hands lacing around his neck you grin stupidly into him, pressing your lips to the pretty plush that makes up his mouth. Pecking them with soft chicken like kisses.

His hands work the globe of your ass, squeezing, rubbing, spanking, as you bite along his collar bone, keeping your teeth marks printed into his skin— your own method of claiming him.

Buttons scatter along the dirt floor as you rip his shirt open, desperate to see the black widow that had been teasing you, the grotesque demonic zombie head that called the left side of his chest home. He promised someday the right side would be all yours.

Tracing your name into the blank space with your finger nail, Eddie lets out a low groan. Hooded eyes stare at you and his mouth is on yours before you can finish taking a breath.

It’s hot, uncoordinated in every way as the two of you claw at each other's pants in the mile high condition you were both in.

“Why…” you grunt struggling against his zipper, leaning backwards towards his knees, “..is this so difficult.”

Eddie looks down and grins lazily.

“Here, lemme help.” He unfastens the button on his jeans, wiggling his hips to shove hia jeans down enough so his cock stood like a tent in his checkered boxers.

“A picnic?” You gleam with red stark stars in your eyes, “for me?”

He pulls you forward, “oh baby, take all that you want.”

It’s quick, dirty, every bit of clumsy filled with shared laughs that were laced with whimpering moans as your bodies rock together, coming together so hard you nearly break the chair.

You buckle into him, fingers digging into his shoulders to hold yourself up. His spend on the belly of your shirt and the top of the waistband of your ‘easy access’ cotton shorts.

Nestling into him further you inhale the scent from the sweet burn of weed and sex clinging to his skin and the toothpaste that dribbled down his neck that wasn’t wiped off well enough.

His hands stroke your back lazily, lips pressed to your shoulder, cock softening on your thigh.

“What time is it?”

“Sweetheart, I couldn’t read my watch right now if I tried—everything is spinning.”

His face is pale, neck clammy with sweat.

“Gonna puke?”

“Tryin’ not—”

Holding tight to your waist and moving you over, he throws up the breakfast you had made at two in the afternoon. Eddie hurled and hurled until he shook from the ache of dry heaving.

Leaning back in the chair that you both couldn’t remember the exact whereabouts of how it appeared— he yawned with exhaustion.

“Let’s go home, take a hot shower, have a little nap?”

He nods and you help him up, pulling his hands until he’s flat footed, and you’re stumbling your way ahead of him.

“Jesus, I fucking came and barfed on your shirt.”

You shrug, slurring, “it’s okay— it’s yours anyway.”

He scoffs in bratty metal fashion, offended by your music knowledge or lack thereof, “I don’t own a ‘Journey’ shirt.”

Eddie pulls you back by the waist and examines the shirt, flipping the collar to see a sharpied ‘WM’ on the tag.

He geeks out a smile, the color of his irises bleaching back to dark brown, “better get that ‘good girl’ act ready— because Wayne is going to lose his fucking mind.”

#eddie munson #eddie x fem!reader #eddie x you #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fluff #eddie drabble #eddie munson blurb

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leclerc-s · 11 months

Text

paint the town red - part three

FERRARI IS BACK BABY!

series masterlist

peter parker added 8 people

peter parker anyone have oscar piastri's number? this is for research. ALSO, CAN WE BRING BACK THE BLACK FIRE PROOFS??

carlos sainz you're a strange child.

harley keener that's what i've been saying since we met.

bianca stark-potts peter, let it go.

tony stark i don't know if it's still a joke or if you're being serious about it.

peter parker it isn't for me, it's for ned.

bianca stark-potts BULLSHIT!!

peter parker i'm in love with him, mj understands (i think)

arthur leclerc i too am in love with oscar piastri, we kissed one time. charles leclerc it was for a video, and you didn't actually kiss. arthur leclerc but i wanted too.

peter parker but think about it, i get oscar to fall madly in love with me, i take the competition out at the same time.

carlos sainz you think oscar is the only competition we have?

peter parker well no, i can send the avengers after the rest. like what’s max verstappen gonna do against black widow? or lewis hamilton against bucky barnes?

ollie bearman right i forget you people know the avengers

tony stark i am the avengers

arthur leclerc no, you’re iron man. the avengers are the entire team.

peter parker realistically speaking the only one able to take an avenger on would be toto, and i think he could only take on rocket or groot.

arthur leclerc the fucking raccoon?

peter parker he gets defensive when you call him a raccoon.

bianca stark-potts right, who gave him coffee? he only brings this type of shit up when he's had sugar.

charles leclerc it was an accident…i did not know he would get like this. and he made those eyes!

tony stark he does that a lot.

arthur leclerc one could say it was an inchident?

charles leclerc ARTHUR I SWEAR I'M GOING TO KILL YOU harley keener THIS IS GOLD!! I'VE HIT THE GOLD MINE!! ARTHUR LECLERC YOUR HAND IN MARRIAGE NOW!!

harley keener fucking snitch, parker

bianca stark-potts peter had coffee, well if what charles drinks is even coffee. it's pure sugar.

harley keener facts.

natasha romanoff again, aren't you people supposed to be working?

harley keener considering seb and tony are busy scolding peter and charles for the coffee thing, we're good for now. also, carlos left to pick up our lunch it was his turn today.

steve rogers peter drank coffee? i thought that was banned at the paddock??

bianca stark-potts it was, but charles wasn't here the day of the wall-climbing incident. therefore he didn’t know what would happen

bucky barnes did he not know peter was spider-man?

harley keener he did because we told him, carlos, and seb first. however, we never went over the rules

sam wilson i guess it’s time to break out the peter parker handbook again

tony stark aren't you two supposed to be working? focusing on the upcoming race?

bianca stark-potts i'm trying to mass send the peter parker handbook to everyone.

harley keener i'm currently watching old C2 videos.

sam wilson lord help all the fans who are counting on you two idiots to deliver a decent car

bianca stark-potts WE BUILT A FUCKING ROCKET SHIP SAMUEL!

BAHRAIN 2024

scuderiaferrari CHARLES LECLERC P1! CARLOS SAINZ P2! IT'S A FERRARI 1-2 IN BAHRAIN MOTHER FUCKERS!! THAT'S HOW YOU KICK OFF A SEASON!! CONGRATS TO SIR LEWIS HAMILTON FOR HIS P3!!

tagged: charles_leclerc, carlossainz55, lewishamilton

view all comments

username NEVER BACK DOWN NEVER WHAT?

↳ username NEVER GIVE UP!!

username I CAN FORZA FERRARI SEMPRE AGAIN BITCHES!!

harleykeener LET'S FUCKING GO!!

↳ samwilson i never doubted you guys for a second

↳ biancastark_potts lies. slander. you said we couldn't do it.

username IS THIS WHAT RED BULL FANS FELT AFTER EVERY WIN??

↳ username you guys got luck max had a breaking issue. he ended up in 4th but next week is our week.

↳ username as a longtime tifosi, i've heard that one before

↳ username however, wishing you guys the best of luck next week.

biancastark_potts and harleykeener posted new stories

ferrari 1-2 here in bahrain! ferrari is back baby!

the only way to kick off a season is with a 1-2!

SAUDI ARABIA 2024

taglist: @celesteblack08 @be-your-coffee-pot @evans-dejong @elliegrey2803 @bingewatche @arkhammaid @sunflower-golden-vol6 @lorarri @melanier7 @ironspdy @mypage-myfandoms @vellicora @you-bleed-just-toknowyouarealive @enchantedthoughts @stopeatread @hobiismyhopeu @lilsiz @alessioayla @niniluvsainz @au-ghosttype @fulla02 @cowboylikemets1989 @six-call @embrosegraves @justtprachisblog

strikethrough means i couldn't tag you

¡leclerc-s speaks! this is what i wish the 2024 season would look like for ferrari but who knows if we'll ever get that. on the brightside only two more races left with the sf-23 and then we can finally throw that shitbox in the trash can, where it belongs. (note: the drivers on the top tweet are as follows: lando, esteban, max, and george.)

¡disclaimer! this is in no way making assumptions about the people involved in this story, this is all fake. it is a fanfiction please don't take any of what is said seriously. this is all for entertainment purposes and as a creative outlet for me. enjoy!

#leclerc-s #paint the town red series #f1 instagram au #f1 x oc #f1 oc #f1 smau #f1 social media au #f1 #formula one #f1 fic #formula 1 fic #f1 x female oc #charles leclerc x female oc #marvel social media au #f1 x marvel crossover

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starstruckmoony · 2 years

Text

call it what you want.

masterlist

pairing - remus lupin x fem!reader

summary - part two of the social media concoction i came up with. it gets pretty tooth-rottingly fluffy in some parts but this wouldn't be a fic of mine if it weren't for the tooth-rooting fluff.

trope/tags - band/celeb!au, instagram/social media!au, modern!au, fluff, terrible humour

word count - 993

warnings - language

part 1 / part 2 / part 3

yourusername added to their story

rjlupin

❤ liked by mmmckinnon, vance_emm, xeno_lovegood and 1,930,392 others

rjlupin never felt more appreciated

tagged yourusername

29,067 comments

yourusername did you like it?

rjlupin it was so good i almost vomited

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pete__ why does it look like it was written with ummmm 👀👀

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lily_evans kids these days

yourusername weren't you the one who suggested to write "deez nuts" on it? prongsyboy you just got exposed for having bad humour lily_evans we're breaking up

user3835292 LMFAOO

user7382380 this is what i call poetry

yourusername

❤ liked by pandorasbox, bartyyy, prongsyboy and 1,999,738 others

yourusername the cutest

22,044 comments

rjlupin i miss you two

yourusername awwee we miss you too

lily_evans CUTEST BOY EVER

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r.a.black cats are superior

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user709990 WHERE'S TAYLOR?

yourusername she was napping in the kitchen 😭😭 user709990 HSHDJAHDJQNSNQNDNWB

user020994 everybody's favourite cat

user372838 REMUS' COMMENT??????

user139299 IS THAT REMUS' SWEATER?

user300011 THE SWEATER HELLO??????

yourusername

❤ liked by lily_evans, ev.rosier, marymacdonald and 1,999,738 others

yourusername can't believe i spent the whole day with this idiot

tagged rjlupin

22,044 comments

starmanblack i would literally rather die

rjlupin love you too sirius

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mmmckinnon soon soon soon

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user709990 i'm sleeping on the highway tonight

user139299 wake me up when they start dating bc i can't put up with this no longer

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rjlupin

❤ liked by yourusername, r.a.black, lily_evans and 2,188,033 others

rjlupin i think y/n loves her cats more than me

tagged yourusername

23,901 likes

yourusername suck it up

rjlupin where's the empathy you were on about? yourusername i left it at home

r.a.black cats>people

yourusername exactly reggie

marymacdonald i love you equally if that helps

rjlupin thank you mary

user738881 OFC SHE DOES IT'S CATS

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user323276 but cats remus

user001231 CAN SOMEONE BE THE Y/N TO MY REMUS I WANT THIS FRIENDSHIP SO BAD

user734444 bro u mad delusional if u think this is friendship 💀 user001231 are you volunteering?

yourusername

❤ liked by pete__, prongsyboy, starmanblack and 2,022,704 others

yourusername moonlight out may 15 🤍

37,898 comments

rjlupin when can i preorder?

yourusername very soon my love

prongsyboy feeling excited

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yourusername egomaniac

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user229994 HOLY FCJING SHIT THERES JO WAYQUDBQHDHQHDNQJDBBW

user737470 DID SHE JUST CALL REMUS "MY LOVE"?????

user829384 THE NAME??? MOONLIGHT? REMUS? MOONY? IS THIS PR? IT BETTER NOT BE PR

user300111 I'M SOBBING SHDJAJXNSBS

user383838 TAKE MY MONEY

user001213 PLS TELL ME THERE'S A COLLAB ALL 4 MARAUDERS LIKED THE PHOTO

user030390 STFU LET'S NOT CLOWN AGAIN

celeb_gossip

❤ liked by yourusername, rjlupin and 56,086 others

celeb_gossip rumour has it that rjlupin and yourusername have been in a happy relationship since summer '21. the two young stars have been spotted together once again! they must really enjoy spending time together, as they've been captured on several occasions since their friendship has become public and their interactions don't exactly seem "platonic", if you get what we mean 😉 despite of these obvious receipts, many are skeptical and think the relationship is purely just another pr stunt, especially since yourusername just announced her new album that is very likely to involve a collaboration with maraudersofficial 🤔 what do you guys think? 👀 let us know in the comments 😘

7,770 comments

user556464 i think you should leave them tf alone <3

user182828 tea pages are so weird like get a life bro

user262626 I KNEW IT

user677747 omgg i hope it's true i've been shipping these two for so long

user555668 y'all ever heard of privacy? 🤨

user075222 WHAT.

user333933 you can't even tell who it is 😭

user086443 GUYS THEY LIKED THE POST SJOQHYIQHSJ

user285551 WHAT TGE HELL

user124000 LMFAO NOT THEM BOTH LIKING IT

rjlupin

❤ liked by vance_emm, starmanblack, casmeadowes and 2,798,929 others

rjlupin it was in fact never pr

tagged yourusername

42,990 comments

yourusername can't believe someone would even think that

rjlupin maybe we weren't lovey dovey enough

yourusername we should step up our game

rjlupin wanna kiss in the rain?

yourusername you don't even have to ask

mmmckinnon i knew HEHEHEHEHE

lily_evans AWWWWW

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starmanblack not the tea page being right

user003021 WAIT A DAMN MINUTE

user285554 IT WASN'T PR IT WASN'T PR AHSHAHSHAHSNABS

user222399 HOW LONG HAVE YOU TWO BEEN PLAYING WITH US 😭😭

user356456 MY PARENTS DJQJDJQJSQ

user422222 OH NY JEUSUSUSHDQUXHHQS

user532111 FIQODI1USH IS THIS FOR REAL

user106626 IM LIETRALU CRUING

yourusername

❤ liked by lily_evans, xeno_lovegood, ev.rosier and 2,782,53 others

yourusername i love my silly little boyfriend

tagged rjlupin

39,843 comments

rjlupin i love you too

yourusername it will unfortunately not pass rjlupin *fortunately

marymacdonald YOU GUYS ARE SO CUTE EHEHEH

mmmckinnon i knew about them long before all of you TAKE THAT

r.a.black isn't he taller than you lolol

starmanblack REG SHUT UP LET THEM BE CUTE

vance_emm so happy for you two ❤

user002931 IM SHITTING TEARS

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user777771 MY PRAYERS HAVE WORKED AT LAST

user322256 i feel like world peace has been restored

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user300102 SOULMATES

rjlupin added to their story

tagging moots again :D

@littlemissscarlettwitch @innerloverpainter @goodoldfashionedluvergirl @withastrangerheart @forourmoons @forsiriussake @sw34terw34ther @nyxxxxxxxx @laluna0 @incorrectwolfstar

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divinesolas · 2 years

Text

Flowers | The Series | Chapter Three | The Garden

Summary | You come to find it's hard to avoid someone when the one person they want to talk to just so happens to be you. especially when that someone just so happens to be the prince this whole event is for.

Pairing | Jacaerys Velaryon x Fem!reader

Warning’s | Rose (flower) slander ? not proofread

Word count | 2.5k

Series Masterlist

The gardens of the keep are gorgeous but you can barely notice that now as there's so many people. many ladies standing around looking bored waiting for the prince to show up. Other lords scattered around, some entertaining the other ladies, others conversing amongst themselves.

you feel overwhelmed. especially with the glares of some of the ladies, still anger about the events occurring earlier in the day and this older lord breathing down your neck as he rambles about something about horses, you're barely paying him any attention just mindlessly nodding along and adding a curious hum every once and awhile.

You notice a large group of gasps and many people turn and towards one of the entrances, the prince has arrived, his brothers in tow. The prince looks around with a smile on his face and his eyes lock with yours, you swear you see his smile grow before he turns away.

You must not engage with him, you already have enough if the ladies hate you with the amount of glares you get you turn to now face the older lord as he drones on and on.

Out of the corner of your eye you notice him moving his way through the crowd, gradually making his way towards you.

"Ser''" His face perks lights up, "would you mind if we walked around a little? I feel the need to stretch my legs?" you give the man whose name you can't remember a smile as he nods and offers you his arm and you take it and walk away before jacaerys is able to come near you and hope he doesn't notice this. He does.

While you two continue to walk around you skillfully avoid jacaerys as he is walking around the garden place, you swear you could see the irritation growing on his face every time you lead this old man around. The old negative is that the old man was still. talking.

"I'm sorry , ser, do you mind if I borrow her for a while?" the old man nods before bidding you farewell and you sigh in relief at your savior.

"Thank you I don't know much longer I could have to hear about horses-" you start, surely it had been your father who had come to your rescue while your mother conversed with other lords trying to get you some suitors. Yet when you turn your eyes widen in shock, "Prince Lucerys!"

He laughs as you bow, "I'm happy to have saved you, my lady." you notice joffrey is also next to him and greet him as well and he gives you a grin. "Did you need something from me, my prince?" Lucerys grin grows, you notice a hint of mischief behind his eyes, "I'd like to show you around the garden, if you are yet to see it my lady."

He was also royalty, you shouldn't be conversing with him either, it would only make your reputation worse. People would assume you were desperate to get into the royal family even though the boy was already betrothed.

"I was actually just shown around though i appreciate-" "No no i insist, that lord doesn't know the keep like i do." he was insistent. it would be rude to deny the request of a prince so you nod your head reluctantly and take his arm.

He is leading you now to a different era of the garden and you gasp. Roses. Many many rose bushes line the garden in a beautiful display. Of course they would grow roses in the keep. One of the most standard and beautiful flowers, don't they give a rose crown during tournaments?

You can't remember and right now you can't be bothered to remember as you walk down the rows and rows of rose bushes. "They're beautiful."

"Yes they are aren't they?" Roses weren't your favorite, sure they were beautiful and you loved the meaning, the symbol of love but there were others you enjoyed more. You run your hand along the wall, feeling the petals with your fingertips. Lost in your thoughts you barely notice he's leading you to somewhere, no more like someone but by the time you notice it's too late and lucerys arm has disconnected from yours.

"Ah dear brother there you are. Oh hello my lady." you freeze and turn to see jacaerys standing with two other ladies, he gives you a smile as the ladies next to him frown. "My prince." His smile only grows as you finally address him. He turns back to the ladies and says goodbye as he now moves towards you. The nasty glare they give you reminds you exactly why you need to not be talking to him.

you aren't worried, he'll say his proper hellos then he'll leave just like he did for everyone else- "You wouldn't mind if i joined you three?" "Of course not brother." Based on the grins on all three of their faces you notice something.

They planned this. Of course they did but why? Why did they want you to speak to jacaerys so badly? "My lady." Prince charming offered you his arm, it would be rude to decline of course but you're already thinking of the ways you could get yourself out of this situation.

As we begin to walk around lucerys stops, "Oh i think i see something come on joffrey." He definitely planned this with a smirk on his face. Now you two are alone, well not really alone but it's as alone as you can get. "Are you enjoying the garden my lady?"

He's smiling at you, it suits his face. "I am my prince, it's very beautiful." "I'm glad you are enjoying it." for a moment you allow yourself to bask in his presence, forgetful of your place as you take glances of him.

As you two continue to walk he clearly is about to ask you something else before another lady comes over, "Prince Jacaerys, do you have a moment?" Cassandra baratheon. A lady from a great house. A pit forms in your stomach as you remember who you are. You're embarrassing him, a lower lady walking around with a prince on her arm. He must feel ashamed knowing Cassandra saw the sight because you know you're feeling it for him.

you release yourself from him and he gives you a look you cannot recognize, "I shall be off your grace." He opens his mouth to say something but you rush away before he has a chance. It's embarrassing, for the first time in your life you are wishing you were someone else, you wish you were a lady born to a great house so you won't feel shame for wanting to know him, maybe if you were a lady from a great house he wouldn't feel shame for being around you.

You rush through the garden passing by many lords and ladies who give you odd looks but you can't be bothered to care. You end up in a more secluded place and look around aimlessly, you're lost.

You can't even be bothered to care, you're defeated, so you lay on the ground and stare at the sky. Yes, your dress is getting ruined but the view is worth it. The sky is so clear, blue and bright and the smell of flowers reminds you of home and how you could spend just laying on the grassy hills and admire the clouds as they go by.

Your father would join sometimes and you two would point out what the clouds looked like for hours just laughing and chatting together. You'd pack a picnic the morning of and would stay out there until your mother yelled at you two to come inside for the day. You miss home.

Your mind is filled with thoughts and your eyes are cloudy with tears. You don't register someone calling out your name from behind you until his worried face is blocking your view. "My prince!" you sat up quickly. "Are you alright? did you faint?" "No. I mean yes I'm alright…. im sorry." he offers you his hand and you stare at it, you shouldn't you know you shouldn't but you take it anyway. It feels nice, it's warm, it must be true, the blood of the dragon runs hot. You notice it's slightly coarse must be from all the training he does.

Once you're up you quickly let go and look down, "I'm glad you're alright i was- i mean your mother was very worried about you when she saw you were no longer roaming around the main area, i decided i would come looking for you." Ah your mother of course she was worried, she knew you were failing the one reason you were supposed to be here.

And now you've ended up inconveniencing the prince. "I'm so sorry, there's just so many people and I just-" "There's no need to apologize to me, I'm just glad you're feeling okay." He sounds so genuine that you look up and he smiles, when you finally look him in the eyes you swear his smile grows, "I didn't get to finish showing you around, i'd like to finish showing you if you do not mind."

You should tell him no, you should run and stay away from him until this whole ordeal is over and you can venture home and forget all about the beautiful dark haired prince. "Of course my prince." but you cannot.

You notice your dress is surprisingly not ruined, only some grass and rocks that easily come off with a quick brush of your hand. You mumble another quick apology before turning back to him and you notice he's watching you with a smile, your face burns as he offers you his arm.

The two of you begin to walk back the way he had come from, "I didn't get to ask you this earlier my lady," You turn towards him curiously you note he's already looking at you, "You seem rather knowledgeable about flowers, am i correct?" "Yes my prince." "Do all flowers have meanings?" You're shocked by his question, apparently it shows on your face, "Is there something wrong with my question?" you shake your head, "no no no my prince it's just, men aren't usually interested in flowers." he turns his head back forward with a thoughtful look on his face, "i've always admired flowers."

He admits this to you like it's a dirty secret he just shared "I've always enjoyed coming out here and admiring the roses, they're very beautiful. Yet i have no clue of their meaning or if they even have one." He refuses to look at you, like he feels you would be disgusted of his words. "I'm glad you enjoy flowers." He stiffens up slightly at your words, "Flowers are very beautiful, many men don't appreciate them only ever caring to grab a pretty bunch and present it to a lady. I find it very honorable you wish to know the meanings, I always found it funny when a man is confessing his love to a woman when giving her a bunch of yellow carnations. You giggle slightly as you recite the memory in your mind.

"Yellow carnations?" "Yes, most flowers mean good things but some can be interpreted negatively. Yellow carnations for example can mean disdain and are usually given to those you do not wish to be with anymore. Once when I was walking around one of the local towns I saw a man professing his love to the town's local seamstress. ended up even asking her to many of her in the same speech. The woman looked overjoyed and said yes." You laugh before continuing "The two did not last, broke off their engagement right before the wedding."

He turns to you before he begins to laugh as well. "That is ridiculous." "I know!" you two laugh as you continue walking through the rows and rows of bushes. Once you two stop laughing he looks at rose bushes. "What do roses mean?" You look over to the beautiful red roses on your side.

"Roses mean a different thing depending on this color. Red roses mean new love or love at first sight. When you give someone a singular red rose it resembles giving them your heart. It's a rather beautiful sentiment." You don't notice he is staring at you while you are staring at the roses until you turn back to him with your two locked eyes.

His face is slightly red and he has a look on his face you cannot place. Your face burns as well, you want to lock this moment in a locket and wear it around your neck so it's close to your heart forever. you two enter a more crowded part of the garden and he turns away from you.

You are once again reminded of who you are and where you are, you always seem to get lost in the moment with him. you move to remove your arm from his but his arm tightens, keeping you in place. "I'd like to know more about flowers ' meanings." you turn to look at him once more, "like what?"

he's at a loss for words, he tries to come up with something but he is too late as someone already comes up to him, yet another great house lady though you do not know her name. "I have not been able to greet you yet my prince."

the lady is glaring at you, you rip your arm away from jacaerys and turn to leave once more. "Goodbye my prince." and just like earlier you slip away before he can speak.

You meet up with your mother who fuses over you before you tell her you aren't not feeling well and wish to return to your room. She walks you there as if sensing your negative mood she does not question you. As you walk through the halls of the keep you think to yourself, You failed this afternoon.

You were supposed to avoid him but instead spent way too much time with him. you would do much better next time you have too. This cannot continue; you cannot allow yourself to be deluded with impossible thoughts and scenarios.

as you arrive at your room your mother turns to you, "Remember tonight is the opening feast i shall come collect you from your room when it is time." she gives you a kiss on the forehead before she leaves.

The opening feast. Yet another place where you shall have to see the prince. Dread filled you as you entered the room, maybe you could play sick and miss it but your mother would never allow it. You attempt to come up with any other ideas while you get undressed but none would work.

You decide to take a nap before the events of later tonight. You cannot allow what happened today to happen again and this time you're sure you will succeed.

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wheresmymilliondollarman · 1 year

Text

aaron warner x ferrars! reader pt. 4

(continuation from part three)

who knew running a new country was so hard? spoiler alert: apparently everyone but you and your sister. your asylum days never looked so simple.

a/n: hi… i’m back 🔥🔥 i’d like to start by apologizing for the stupid long wait. it was unfair to my readers and i swear i had no intention to leave people waiting. i genuinely forget sometimes people really like my writing </3 and i truly am grateful to the people who read. let’s jus say i have been busy and yet so unmotivated for the littlest things. i won’t bore w the details i’m sure y’all are jus happy i finally posted part 4. again REALLY sorry for the wait and pls enjoy. also now adding borders to my fics (ill edit the old ones too)

word count: 9k

warnings: few plot changes, fights and feuds, violence and blood mention, castle slander, angst, buzzcut aaron 😣😣😣

things were finally looking up for the rebellion. you'd manage to overthrow the supreme commander and his army, the reestablishment no longer ruled over your part of the land - making it open to new possibilities of government.

you never wished you paid attention in your social studies classes until now.

there were so many regulations you had to learn, matters you had to discuss, and, of course, the never-ending paperwork. your least favorite part. it didn't help you were behind on learning the fancy terminology for topics. 'can't people ever just say what they mean?'

juliette's optimism for being a leader was diminishing every time she had to meet with castle on strategy. he poorly disguised his disapproval of leadership upon every encounter.

but you learned to ignore it along the way. it wasn't as if he was ever the perfect leader either, plus you'd get the gist of the whole leadership thing soon. you silently prayed.

in the midst of all the responsibilities, you had to keep aaron from killing kenji most of the time. they were originally getting on somewhat friendly enough terms, but that was before the incident occurred.

that day, kenji barged in with urgency into your room as you were looking over papers. he went on to say there was a 'serious' problem, and you worriedly assumed it had to do with the reestablishment. but it instead involved your boyfriend.

"seriously kenji? i thought we were under attack or someone died!"

"someone will die if you don't handle your boyfriend right now. hopefully better than you've been handling being supreme comm-" kenji was cut off by the click of a gun.

"i dare you to finish your sentence."

with the barrel to his head, kenji quickly defended his words with the barrel to his head. aaron and him bickered back and forth. kenji turned to you for help, but all you did was shrug and mouth 'karma.' then he hit kenji's head with said gun.

"okay, that's enough, can someone explain to me what the issue is here?"

"this is the issue." aaron then turned to reveal chunks of different sizes along the back of his head. you gasp at his ruined hair.

"oh my god, kenji what the hell did you do?"

"i gave him a trim just like he asked!"

this made another argument burst out between the two. kenji denying his mistake and aaron picking the gun back up and threatening to kill him.

"aaron put the gun down."

aaron reluctantly does so, but his glare at kenji doesn't drop.

"phew, thanks, princess."

"kenjii since you "trimmed" warner's hair, i think it's only fair that he does the same to yours." you proclaim.

kenji looks toward you in horror, "no way!"

aaron wastes no time in going to the bathroom and returning with a razor. he gives him a terrifying smile, "i'm only going to trim the edges."

kenji bolted out of the room a second later, complaining about favoritism on the way out.

aaron ended up having no choice but to shave the rest of his hair, leaving him with a military-style buzz cut. you would mourn the longer hair, but truthfully, it did nothing to tarnish his looks.

sector 45, after sending several invitations, finally received a rvsp for an international leadership conference held at your sector. from oceania, is what delalieu told you and juliette.

you started to come to the realization about the lack of history you knew about warner. sure, you knew him deeply now, but you knew so little about his past. castle made it evident when he mentioned to you and juliette his possible connection to oceania's leaders. castle, annoyingly, did not disclose anymore and insisted aaron needed to be the one to tell. yet, he judged how little you both knew about oceania.

warner being immersed into his work left little time for that. while aaron had been helpful in your learning some etiquettes, he'd been closing off his emotions since he father's death. even after many attempts of trying to get him to open up, he vowed he was okay. you had a slim to none chance of prying information about oceania from him.

you felt lost and angry. for being supreme commanders, you and juliette seemed to be almost always out of the loop. castle regarded you as experiments, seeing how two naive teenage girls could survive being leaders. the rest of the world wasn't any different.

you offered the idea of just reading castle's mind, but juliette thought it could lead to mistrust toward you. she believed you both needed to remain calm for the moment, which is what you have done so far. but you were getting a bit bitter playing nice for so long.

at times you felt juliette left you of the leadership issues. she insisted to be the one to tackle meetings and discussion with castle, she sometimes gave answers before even discussing it with you, and even delalieu seemed to report everything to her first before it got to you. you would never bring it up, and just wrote it off as her still getting the hang of everything. but in the back of your mind you worried it was only a foreshadow.

on the way to see the new headquarters, castle rushed to you. he begged you and juliette to reconsider taking warner with you to greet the guest downstairs. you had no clue what he was on about, but played along and told him warner wasn't needed. you quickly caught on to the situation.

you rushed back to your room, put on what you deemed appropriate clothing and freshened up your hair and face. you were still putting on your shoes when you left.

on the way, you thought about how odd it was juliette didn't even bother to inform you. even if you were busy, you both had pagers to contact one another for important events such as this one.

you hear sounds of greetings as you approach the reception. you luckily hadn't missed out on much.

you see kenji along side juliette and feel a pang of betrayal. juliette was subtly shocked and kenji was confused to see you. but you cover it up with a smile as you turn to see the guest.

"apologies for my delay, i was held up with some prior matters." you hold a hand out, "it's a pleasure to meet you, i'm y/n."

the guest introduces himself as haider, and you can't help but notice a glint of recognition as he looks you over.

but that was forgotten as you came to find out haider wasn't aware of the fact sector 45 had another supreme commander as it wasn't mentioned on the invitation. you told him it must've been a mistake, but you threw a questioning glance to juliette.

you felt yourself get lost as the meeting when on. haider didn’t make it discreet he knew warner very well. he made a brief comment on his relationship with the other supreme commander children.

“i’ve got to say, when i first heard about warner being involved with a girl — i had strong doubts. he has never been the relationship type. unless you count lena. oh, but i’m sure you know all about her by now. they were together for almost two-years after all.”

you had no idea who lena was, but you had a strong sense you wouldn’t like the answer. haider had obviously knew this, and faked ignorance with his comment.

“oh. he hasn’t mentioned his ex-girl friend?”

your heart dropped. you glanced at kenji and juliette from the side of your eyed and they held the same face of surprise. you did your best to remain unphased with a polite smile.

“must’ve just not been important enough to discuss. like right now. i’d prefer if we got back on track of the topic instead of digging into my personal relations.”

if haider was impressed or offended he didn’t show and shifted subjects. you tried your best to listen in as juliette spoke with him about dinner, but the thought of warner having an ex-girlfriend floated around in your mind for the rest of the meeting.

the second haider left the room, and you all burst into a discussion for the next step. dinner would be in less than an hour, and you were still filled in with little to no information about haider and his intentions. you knew the next step would be for you to talk to aaron about it, but you weren’t sure you could be alone with him with this newfound information about his past. you got juliette and kenji to come along with you to question him under the excuse that it would be easier than relaying whatever he told you.

before you three could do that, you didn’t forget their actions before this meeting. you knew it would be the worst time to discuss especially with how limited time was, but you spoke without thinking when you saw juliette heading towards the door.

“why didn’t you tell me about this meeting?”

she sighs and brushes you off saying it wasn’t the most important subject right now. but you already begin, so you thought you might as well get some answers, and pushed her for an explanation.

“we’re suppose to be in this together, how could you leave me in the dark—”

“because i didn’t think you could handle it, and quite frankly, castle agreed with me.”

“what?” you were dumfounded by her response.

“you’ve been so unruly lately, and i get it doing this whole supreme commander thing has been challenging — but i couldn’t afford anything with this meeting.”

“unruly? just because i don’t want to listen to every little thing castle says. news flash, he’s made it quite clear he doesn’t support us leading sector 45.”

“he knows far more than us, we should take what he says wisely.”

“j has a point y/n, castle has a lot of experience—” kenji intercepts.

“shut up! you’re just as guilty as juliette. i thought we were friends and then you help juliette hide this meeting from me!” you spit at kenji.

he stays silent, for once. but it says more than enough for you. you turn your bitterness back to your sister.

“was it his idea to only put down you as the supreme commander on the invitations, too?”

“yes.” she reluctantly admits. “castle wasn’t sure if the idea of two supreme commanders would go well over with orher sectors. i swear, y/n, i only found out once they were already sent.”

you didn’t care for reasoning. you were angry at it all. “i agreed to do this for you! it was you wanted us to do this together! ”

“and maybe i’m starting to regret that.”

your face dropped. juliette’s eyes widened as she realized the weight of her words. but it was too late to apologize.

you scoff, “alright. fine. go ahead and do it yourself. go and question warner about haider yourself and talk to castle and beg for his help for dinner. because i’m done being supreme commander. but it’s not like i ever was, right?”

you can’t help but leave a final comment before you stalk out the door, “you know what’s funny? i found out about the meeting because castle wanted me to tell you to not do it on your own, to bring warner, he said. guess you’re unruly to him too.”

with limited options of locations juliette, kenji, or warner wouldn’t be able to find you, you had to resort to being hiding in your old room you were once held captive in.

now less clouded by anger, you facepalmed yourself. perhaps just quitting being supreme commander had been a rash decision. you weren’t even quite sure if you could just quit like that. but you would rather be jobless than take back your words to juliette.

maybe she was right, you are quite unruly. but you had no plans to admit it to her.

you thought back to aaron. you wanted his comfort, but you still were upset about the ex-girlfriend situation. even if you said it was important, you had somewhat of a right to know when your boyfriend was in a past relationship.

you hated how castle was right about how much you lack knowledge about aaron’s history. and you know you should probably be there with kenji and juliette talking to aaron, but you were too prideful, and a little embarrassed to do so.

so you collected yourself as made your way back to your room (taking twists and turns to avoid anyone you didn’t want to see) to prepare yourself mentally and physically for the dinner to come.

unfortunately for you, aaron was sitting on your bed waiting for your return when you stepped into the room. you we’re unsure on how to greet him since he likely was informed about earlier events through juliette and kenji.

“oh my god, you scared me.”

“my apologies, amor. but i had to see you after you you didn’t arrive with kenji and juliette when they went to ask me about haider.”

you went into your closet as he spoke from your bed, picking out a nice dress for dinner. “got into a fight with them and it didn’t end well. then i dramatically quit being supreme commander.” you explained nonchantly.

he was taken aback, “you quit? just like that?”

“yeah.” you confirm walking out the closet with a lilac dress on arm, “you think this’ll be good enough, or it it too much?”

“you’ll look astonishing as always. but don’t change the topic, what happened to that headstrong nature of yours i admire? you can’t just give up after a silly fight.”

you groan, and toss the dress on tour bef next to him, “i really don’t want to talk about it right now. can’t you just tell me what shoes go with this dress?”

“amor.” aaron stands up and interwines his hands in yours, “please don’t shut me out.”

you bitterness rose back up at his words and you drop aaron’s hands. “that’s ironic coming from you.”

“amor, please don’t pick a fight with me.”

“castle once told me i didn’t know you as well as i thought. and he’s right, aaron. any mention of your past and you close right up.”

aaron sighs, “i’m not an open person, you know this. it’s harder for me to talk about my personal life than it is for you. but i mean it when i say i am trying for you.”

“really? then why didn’t you even bother to mention you knew haider. or how about the fact you have an ex-girlfriend! you know how embarrassing it was for someone from a different continent to tell you more than you knew about your boyfriend?”

“lena?” he asks furrowing his brows. “she was barely a girlfriend. haider likely only mentioned her to rile you up and it’s working, so please calm down.”

“oh my god. there you go again! you want to just sweep it under the rug, and i’m tired of it. all i want is a little more openness from you.”

“i have been open, there’s no one closer to my heart than you. please understand that just certain subject are—“

“hard to talk about, yeah i’ve got that.” you exasperated. “i just think it’s important to mention a two-year relationship.”

“it was purely physical.”

your heart stings. “so, physical relationships just mean nothing to you? everything physical we’ve shared hasn’t meant anything to you?”

“that’s not what i meant. i was different back then!”

you turn around, “just go warner. i’d like to be alone right now before dinner.”

aaron didn’t anything else, he knew your word was final. not because of his sense of your emotions, but by the fact you used his last name.

in less than an hour you managed to fight with every person close to you. and you had to see said people at dinner in less than ten minutes. somehow, you blamed castle for your luck.

delalieu knocked on your door to escort you to dinner. you weren’t sure of aaron had told him to or perhaps he had pity that you would be entering alone. either way you were happy to walk with someone you weren’t upset with.

luckily, you had arrived before the guests did. but unluckily, kenji, juliette, and aaron were already there. your usual spot was next to aaron and infront of juliette, kenji sometimes next to you or her. but juliette sat at the head of the table now, kenji to her right and aaron to her left. you had no choice but to awkwardly sit next to warner due to the limited seating. plus you’d rather not show haider theres issues amongst you four.

kenji and juliete silently conversed, your sister ignored you fully while kenji glimpsed at you with a small frown. you could feel aaron turn in your direction, but your gaze focused on the empty seat next to you.

haider arrived shortly, greeted aaron first with a hug, one aaron was visibly discomforted by. then discreetly spoke, both using arabic tongues. which none of you knew he had. ypu almost choke on nothing as he casually reveals aaron know seven languages. the rest of you greeted him curtly, and he took a seat in front of you.

haider wasn’t the only guest at the dinner, his sister nazeera showing up was a bit of a surprise to the rest of you.

nazeera is gorgeous, with her smooth carmel complexion, dark eyes and strong features. her face held diamonds percing; two on her eyebrow and one below her lip. she wore a wrap that covered her whole hair, and it did nothing to lessen her beauty — it enhanced it.

she stared at juliette before she turned to you. you were unsure of the expression she held, and part of you wanted to just find out yourself, but you knew better.

both you and juliette stood up to greet her, and she accepted politely. she gave aaron a mere nod then proceeded to sit down next to you, instead of her brother. but if anything it gave you more of a reason to not talk to the people beside you.

aaron started the conversation about her scraf, but kenji was the one who made an offhanded comment regarding her head scarf, which you learned was called a hijab, claiming it was banned to wear them since it was stabled with religion. nazeera didn’t shy away from answering, she stood her stance and didn’t care for reestablishment rules despite being a supreme commander’s daughter.

nazeera has a sharp tongue and kenji was not prepared for it. you tried to hide you smile as kenji got more flustered with his words. she was highly more likable than her brother.

“are all the other supreme commander kids like this?” you ask her.

“only the ones who aren’t insufferable.” she stands up from her seat, “so, no,” she tells you with a wink. nazeera then announces her departures and leaves the dining table.

you had a good feeling about her. and even though you and juliette were at odds, you knew she also admired nazeera already.

aaron and kenji bickered a bit before haider bid his goodbyes. aaron took the liberty of escorting him to his quarters. a job that likely should’ve been done by you or juliette, but frankly, you didn’t like the guy much to care.

now juliette, kenji, and you sat in an awkward silence. part of you wanted to mend things with your sister, but majority of you felt she should take the first step. kenji looked ready to say something, but held his tongue.

you figured it was the most you’ll get, so you mumbled a goodbye and headed off to your room.

half way there, you stopped. even if you felt you were the one in the right, you were ready to make the first move if it meant rehashing things with your sister and best friend. you rerouted back to the dining room.

before you could enter, you heard talking. you peeked through the slit of the open door and saw nazeera, juliette, and kenji talking.

suddenly, and ugly feeling boiled in your stomach. seeing them all conversing (mainly juliette and nazeera because kenji was mixing his words) made you realize how perfect the three looked together. almost natural. it made you think of how easy it would be to replace you. nazeera would be the one teasing and messing with kenji. nazeera would be the sister you imagined juliette wished she had instead — one who was confident, witted, and courageous. everything you lacked these days.

maybe they just didn’t need you nearly as much as you needed them.

you couldn’t even place your vexation on nazeera. you just met her today, and she was already someone you knew was amazing as she presented herself.

you never entered the dining room. you left before anyone could notice you dejectedly walking away.

the following morning wasn’t better. delalieu knocked on your just as the sun was starting to rise, your restless sleep did nothing to help wake you up. he informed you you’d been invited to accompany haider, and nazeera would likely be joininng. you nodded, thanked him, and sent him on his way.

as soon as the door closed, you grabbed the nearest pillow and screamed into it. haider was already being a pain, and it was his second day.

worst part was, delalieu failed to mention haider had also invited others.

you were unpleasantly surprised to see all three of the people you quarreled with arriving after you.

you weren’t sure who to walk aside. but on instinct you stood next to aaron before you could remember your vendetta. juliette was on one side of haider and you were on the other. nazeera and kenji followed closely behind.

it was unbearably silent the first few steps, there wasn’t a word uttered. the tension would’ve needed a axe to cut.

you couldn’t help but peek at aaron from the side of your eye. you quickly looked forward when you accidentally made eye contact. he sighed quietly after. you hated how badly you had to clench your fist to prevent yourself from latching it onto his.

haider broke the silence. he asked warner if he would be attending the continental symposium. you and juliette only knew briefly about it. no one ever mentioned the nature of the event to either of you.

but when juliette inferred haider about it, you both realized how big the event was.

“i wasn’t sure whether you’d both attend since the late supreme commander anderson has never attended public gathering.”

“we’ll both very much be there.” you add in quickly.

“of course, we aren’t hiding from the world,” juliette adds in, “when will it be?”

haider’s eye slightly widened as if she asked an incredulous question. but it made sense after he revealed it would be in two days. he innocently answered, but you knew he was satisfied having caught juliette off guard.

“it’s really my fault for that. juliette’s been so diligent with managing all other issues i thought it would be better if i took it off her shoulder’s and handled it. but silly me, i’d forgotten to keep her posted on the date.”

you jumped in with an excuse to defend your sister because even if you two weren’t on good terms, you wouldn’t let someone try to toy with her.

juliette looks to you grateful for the help, and you give her a small smile in return.

aaron added in, “she’s right, we’re finalizing the program with delalieu today, who is hard at work planning the details.”

you give his hand a tight squeeze as a ‘thank you’. but as you try to let go, aaron’s hand engulfs your tightly to stop you. you try to wiggle your hand a little, but eventually it it be.

you bite the inside of your cheek to keep you from smiling.

aaron asks haider for his plans during the remainder of his stay. he mentions catching up with old friends then goes on to say juliette and you must’ve received numerous invitations from the other kids of supreme commanders.

“we haven’t gotten the whole group together in far too long,” haider says.

you raise a brow, “whole group? just how many of you are there?”

suddenly everyone stops as haider’s demeanor goes from unauthentic sincerity to ice cold. it almost scares you.

he harshly grabs aaron’s arm,wretching your hands apart, and pulls him forward. haider asks angrily if he’s shared little to nothing about ‘them’ with you.

“you turn your back on us for this — this child? how stupid could you be? you have to know it won’t end well, i promise you that.”

“hey! let go.” you protest.

haider scoffs and ignores you. “i thought it couldn’t be true you’d fallen for a psychotic girl’s insignificant freak sister. i defended you, just to find out it all true. what the hell happened to you?”

you’d had enough shoved him away with your gift, hard enough to cause him to stumble back a little.

haider was stunned by the sudden force then notices the red aura from your hand.

“what did you just do?”

you shrug, “how could a child like me do something? but if you touch him like that again you’ll end up just like the last supreme commander. i promise you that.”

“is that a threat?”

“why don’t you find out?”

haider laughs, almost delighted by the fact you threatened to basically kill him. everyone else unintentionally lets out a breathe they didn’t know they were holding, especially juliette who had been ready to intervene.

haider requested to speak with aaron alone, promising to keep his hands to himself. you and aaron shared a look, and you knew he’d be alright. he gives you a smile that was made for you, and you return it.

the fight from the say before was long forgotten. you knew no matter how many fights you’d have, you’d do almost anything for him.

part of you still hoped for a grand apology, but this would be more than enough. now, you hoped to eventually make amends with the other two.

you walked off, not quite sure the destination. you figured you might as well go on a walk yourself since the planned one got disrupted. but a hand grabbed your arm to stop you.

“hey, uhm,” it’s juliette’s voice, “do you think we could talk? i mean..later because we’re all so busy and obviously you have stuff to do-“

“yeah.” you smile, “i’d like that.”

you both share heartfelt grins. you wave at kenji and nazeera from your spot and walk back toward the base. this time, with a happier kick in your step.

a good few steps in — you felt it, an abrupt change in the environment. it was almost too eerie, and you realized there was no one in sight, not even the guards who are meant to follow you from a generous distance.

you came to the conclusion it was no accident when the first shot punctured your shoulder. the second through your side.

you scream in agony to as you attempt to flee from the open, but more bullets ensue. you manage to block a few with your energy, but the pain was painful enough to leave some to hit your busy, such as your thigh. but the one that made you topple over was a bullet near the chest, in almost the same spot anderson once shot you.

you managed to block it before it was a fatal hit, but it hit you enough to be painful and draw blood.

you were half conscious, the world foggy and blurry in your eyes. you felt someone approach you and kneel down to tower over your defenseless body. a sudden pressure on your neck woke you up enough to understand this person was choking you to kill you.

you used whatever energy you had left to try and push the person off of you. the lack of oxygen and the increase of black spots made it hard for you to focus on pushing the person off.

your adrenaline kicked in to created enough power to get the man off of you. as soon as he groan in pain, you started to feebly crawl away from the perpetuator. your blood likely dragging on the concrete now. but they composed fast, and grabbed onto your ankle. you fid what you could and grabbed the nearest rock and hit them on the head with it. but ir wasn’t enough to stop them from grabbing you again.

at that point you were worn out, too tired to even move a muscle. the loss of blood was starting to make you woozy, and the bullets seemed far more painful than you remembered. you couldn’t register you were on the verge of death.

but the pressure on your neck never returned. instead came the noises of violent punches and broken bones. a new person crouched beside you, you knew they meant you no harm as they assessed your wounds and chanted assuring words.

in your deliriousness, you babbled on about how they looked like your friend kenji, one whom you fought with and missed so much.

“i’m sure your friend misses you too.” kenji responds, doing his best to keep you awake.

you blacked when another person, stronger than the first, carefully carried you and rushed toward the base.

in the medical bay, you were in and out of consciousness. you remember sara and sonya hurriedly tending you, kenji freaking out in the back, and aaron worriedly beside you. your first thought was, ‘where’s juliette?’

unbeknownst to you at the time, juliette was getting her wounds treated as well. she had been shot too, but not nearly as fatal as you. she was caught off guard alone as well, but her attacker only aimed to disable her. nazeera had been near by when she heard the commotion and saved her.

juliette was shot moments before you, and aaron believed it was worked as a distraction so your assailant could successfully kill you.

kenji was the one to find you. after juliette had been injured, he went to find you and arrived in the nick of time.

it took almost two days before you could wake up fully without passing out every minute. the first face you saw was aaron — who was already at your beside, holding your hand tightly — almost like he was praying.

when he noticed you’d woken up, his face became relaxed. he pecked you on the lips before badgering you with questions about your state. you assured him you were alright, and had to repeat it over and over.

your body still ached greatly due to the poison laced in the bullets sara and sonya explained to you. your wounds were healed, but there were still possibility of hallucinations from the poison.

after asking for your sister, sara had informed you of her situation, but quickly told you she was alright after seeing your worried eyes.

the culprits had been caught and sent to the holding cells, but they had refused to cooperate. meaning there was zero information on who was behind both your attacks.

aaron was monitoring you intently, when you sat up he rushed to help. he hadn’t stopped holding onto you since you woke up, as if you’d disappear if he let go. his eyes were red-rimmed, but you didn’t comment on it.

you felt bad for giving him a near-death scare again, and berated yourself for leaving yourself vulnerable. even worse, since your sister had also been hurt. aaron put the blame on himself for leaving you unattended.

no matter what you said, warner seemed distraught. his eyes told you there was more to the issue, he was holding back. as he remembered what the issue was, he grew distant. his grip on your hand loosened.

“is everything okay?”

“as long as you’re okay, amor.” he smiles but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “i have to speak with you about something.”

“about what?”

“not here. let’s get you out of here and cleaned up before we talk.”

you nod. you were more than ready to get out the the med bay. your thoughts went to the coming symposium, with you and juliette being temporarily mia, there was likely a plethora of things still needed to get done.

you were happy to finally get a chance to shower. the grime and blood were now down the drain. once done, you changed and went back into your room where aaron was waiting.

before he could get a word in, you embraced him tightly, and he didn’t hesitate to hold you. after almost dying, you just wanted the comfort of aaron. kenji would call you crazy for putting ‘comfort’ and ‘aaron’ in the same sentence.

you kiss him, after what’s felt like forever. it’s not fiery or rushed, but deliberate and emotional. everything was gone from your surrounding for a moment, it was just the two of you. you felt safe. but then aaron pulled away from you, and held onto your hands.

“amor, i need to tell you something. it’s important.” his eyes are looking at everywhere but you.

“you can tell me anything.” you reassure.

he takes a deep breath, running a hand through his blonde hair. your nerves begin to spike, you’ve never seen aaron so hesitant to speak, he’s almost scared.

“i’ll start from the beginning.”

and he did. he told you the start of the reestablishment, their campaigns, ideals, and plans to take over. then, he shifts to the ‘unnatural’s’ and how after they were discovered, they were exploited by the reestablishment.

aaron tells you about two girls who were willingly given over to the reestablishment to be experimented and tested on. you were getting confused on where the conversation was going.

“aaron, why are you explaining all this?”

“because one of those girls is juliette.”

you didn’t know what to say, you were thrown into a loop you still weren’t fully comprehending.

“i don’t understand..”

“the parents you lived with weren’t your biological ones. y/n, you’re both adopted.”

your reality was warped in a matter of seconds. you never felt connected to your ‘parents’, but finding out you came from a different family?

“w-wait… so the people juliette and i lived with for almost our entire lives aren’t our parents?” aaron nods.

“so where are our biological parents? are they alive? wait… who’s the other girl you mentioned before?”

your head was jumbled up, you were trying to get so many answering at once while still trying to process.

aaron closes his eyes for a second before the green is visible again. “that other girl is juliette’s sister. but it’s not you, amor. you and juliette are not biologically related.”

you were frozen, as if time itself had stopped. you free from aaron’s hands and distance yourself. everything had change.

aaron keeps speaking, saying he only knew of juliette’s real sister and parents and sister until recently. castle was the one who told him the information to put the pieces together. castle was the one who urged him to tell you because the reestablishment was was coming, very soon.

“there was no record of you before you were adopted, i had always assumed it was only juliette adopted. it was only after you came here and i ran your dna, along with juliette’s, did i find yours different from your parents.”

juliette wasn’t actually your sister. the parents and girl you grew up with aren’t related to you at all. everytime you talked to aaron about were grateful for juliette as a sister, he knew the truth the whole time.

it took you five minute of speak again. you didn’t care for the rest at the moment, you still had to have another question of yours answered.

“if juliette’s biological parents work for the reestablishment, where are mine?”

“i swear, i had no idea-“

“please. just tell me.”

the more you heart, the more your heart shatters. to stay and watch over sector 45 while his father left to the capital, anderson had him prove himself. it started with emmaline, juliette’s real sister. he was in charge of her imprisonment and torture. but then his father sent him one more task before he was supreme commander.

anderson transported a man and woman to sector 45, aaron was commanded to get information, by any means, out of them. it went on for a year, until anderson saw no value in keeping them anymore.

his father ordered a public execution, and aaron did as he was told. only when finding a journal of his father just hours before you woke up did he get the identity of those people. your parents.

it was the final straw to send you spiraling. you don’t know if you got on the floor or started yelling first. aaron knelt down next to you, trying to soothe you, but it was only making it worse.

you don’t even feel the tears are running down your face. aaron apologizes over and over saying, no matter how many times you told him to stop. you could only keep saying ‘why?’ over and over.

‘why did you keep this from me?’

‘why didn’t you tell me sooner?’

when aaron tried holding you, you roughly shoved him away. his touch no longer felt loving. instead, it became poisonous.

“don’t touch me.”

“amor, please. i love you, so much.”

“you don’t know how to love anyone. you’re a fucking coward.”

the room was suffocating you. you felt trapped and had to get out of there. you got up and booked it out the door, not stopping when aaron called out your name.

you keeping running and let your legs guide you to your destination. the moment you spotted the white door, you came to a halt.

you barge in with no warning, startling the two people in the room. you take big step toward your target and, without hesitation, you slap castle.

“oh my god— what the hell, y/n!”

kenji’s presence does nothing to stop you, “did you have your kicks keeping secrets from us this entire time?”

castle sighs, now unphased by your violence, “i assume warner told you.”

“we trusted you! and all you did was keep us in the dark about our own fucking life!”

“what the hell is going on?”

“does juliette know?”

“i talked to her not long before warner went to you.”

‘oh god,’ you thought. you worried that was the reason juliette has lacked to see you since you’ve woken up.

“miss ferrars, it was not my intention to cause pain to your or your sis— juliette.”

his error struck a nerve, “no, but it was your intention to be a liar and snake, screw you.”

you stormed out in a rage, not before doing a 180 on castle’s desk. you hoped he’d have the worst time cleaning up.

you ran. out of his office and out of the compound. away from it all. you finally stopped after being knee-deep into a forest.

not caring for your surroundings, you sat down on the nearest large rock. it was then you realized how much energy you exhausted. you took in deep breaths to regain your breathing stability. the oxygen filled your lung helped to calm you down for the first time in the past hour.

with no one around, you finally had the time to think straight without anger and despair clouding your judgement. you weren’t even sure if you could exhaust anymore tears.

but it turned out you did. going through the events of the past hour, didn’t help with processing as you thought it would. it only made you relive the heart-ache.

took half an hour to calm down your sobbing. but it was oddly comforting doing it in a place no one would hear you.

you decided didn’t wanna focus on everything you learned. not on aaron. not on being adopted. not on juliette not being your sister. not on your parents being dead before you got the chance to meet them.

you focused on what you could control — the coming continental symposium. it would be in less than a day. you had nothing prepared, not even attire; much less a speech.

you had no idea how you could show up and presume your personality from before. how could you face the supreme commander kids in a state like this? your thoughts wondered to juliette on what her plan would be. but then it hit you; how was juliette handling it?

when you thought about it, you hadn’t seen her all day. she didn’t see you when you woke up, nor before you and aaron talked. she likely didn’t take this news lightly, especially regarding her sister.

thinking about juliette having a sister, that wasn’t you, was painful. your bond wouldn’t be the same. you weren’t blood, juliette no longer had a reason to stand by your side.

despite telling yourself not to, you thought back to warner. his betrayal hurt deeper than castle’s. how could you trust him again? you couldn’t. it was over.

time passed like nothing being amongst nature. the once light blue sky, turned orange with pink hues, signaling the end of the day. you knew you couldn’t hide forever. you had to find juliette.

if your theory was right then juliette was not in her room. you brainstormed possible locations when you bumped into kenji.

“y/n? thank god, everyone’s been worried about where you went, and juliette—“

“where juliette? i need to see her now.”

“y/n… warner told me everything. i know it must be hard for you both, but i think typu both need some spac—“

you snap, “just tell me where she is kenji!”

“she’s not in the best state.”

“take me to her. now.”

kenji reluctantly leads you to the door of anderson’s office. when you saw it was locked, you pounded on the wood relentlessly.

“c’mon, let’s just go.” kenji persists.

“juliette! open the door!”

“go away.”

“juliette, please let me in. i wanna talk.”

“i don’t wanna speak to you.”

“well, i do.”

“you’re not my real sister, so leave me alone!”

“fine,” you scoff, “hopefully you treat your new sister a lot better than your treating me right now.”

“fuck you.”

“fuck you too!” you throw back.

“…bad time to say i told you so?”

you rolled your eyes at kenji’s remark and walk away. your anger resurged, and you needed somewhere to blow off steam. training room had been unfortunate to be your victim.

when you saw no one in sight, you took it as a sign to proceed. in a matter of seconds, objects where tossed across the room through your levitation. weights were scattered, some broken, benches were bent out of shape, even a few treadmills weren’t so kindly spared. you’d feel bad about the damage later, but it felt so good in that moment to get angry.

it was dark outside when your adrenaline was closing to nothing. your only had energy to sit on a mat laid across the floor. you figured you’d take a quick power nap before going back to your room to sleep.

as soon as you closed you eyes, you were passed out. you’d hadn’t realized just how much of your energy you exerted.

aaron warner was getting back from his debriefing with delalieu, when the open door of the training room caught his eyes.

he was more than dismayed to see the damage done to what once was the training center. he was irritated that he’d have to replace basically all equipment. aaron assumed there was violent fight that happened, but then his eyes fell upon your form sleeping soundly on the floor.

now, he was more impressed than annoyed at the damage done. he would’ve been slightly proud of he wasn’t the reason for you to lash out so brutally.

aaron picked up your limp body in his arms, and carried you off to bed; taking advantage of holding you again. because he wasn’t sure the next time he’d be able to.

you were disoriented after waking up in your room, wondering how you ended up in your room when you’d fell asleep in the training room. you threw the possibly of sleeping walking to bed in, but then decides you didn’t care much for finding out.

it had been much later than you anticipated, and you were surprised no one woke you up. you dressed swiftly and headed out the door, despite a dreading feeling brewing in your gut.

first stop was to find delalieu, who actually found you first. he informed you the arrival of the newest guests and listened as he listed name. you stopped when he uttered the word ‘lena.’

“lena? as in warner’s ex-girlfriend?”

delalieu says nothing, but his eyes are looking at the ground. ‘so that’s a yes.’

great, you thought. you broke up less than twenty four hours ago and his ex already shows up.

then delalieu tells you juliette is already greeting guests, so your presence is not mandatory. he likely knows all of yesterday’s events, including your fight with her, so he’s likely trying to prevent conflict before the symposium.

a stronger person would’ve bitten the bullet and showed up anyway. but you weren’t that stronger person today. you would take to chance to avoid people you didn’t wanna see at any point.

perhaps it was a coward’s way, but you believed after everything, you were entitled to have at least one day.

you busied yourself in the office of your room; approving symposium plan and decor, looking through letters, and going through anderson’s old files — provided by delalieu.

kenji came to see you three hours before the symposium. you pretended to not here it the first couple times he knocked, but he was annoyingly persistent.

you weren’t mad at kenji, he didn’t know anything before you. but didn’t mean seeing him was easy, his presence always reminded you of juliette. you three had always hung out. now he was stuck in the middle.

kenji told you nazeera wanted to speak with you, so you granted her permission to enter. nazeera was quick to her point and told you the reestablishment’s plan; destroying sector 45. she advised you and juliette presented yourself strong at the event, to show everyone you’re a formidable enemy. plus, there was the possibility of sudden danger because of the plans the reestablishment had for juliette and you.

you found sudden danger was just always a given in your life.

you weren’t sure how you and juliette could show up united, you both were at odds and still processing everything you’ve been told. it would be nearly impossible to act as if nothing has changed.

were you even still supreme commander? you weren’t sure you ever ‘unquit’.

but, differences would have to be put aside. because everyone will be watching for your next move. and it may or may not lead to the demise of sector 45.

you missed just shooting and punching enemies.

kenji stuck around after nazeera left. you both discussed the danger to come. then, he filled you in on anything you missed, juliette’s buzzcut, warner sulking, the new guests, and, your favorite, lena being humbled by juliette.

apparently, she’d been ‘eager’ to meet you and asked juliette about your whereabouts. she referred to you as an ‘ex-girlfriend’ is what kenji told you. how she knew about the break up, you had no idea.

juliette looked her up and down before telling her you don’t waste your time with other insignificant to you.

you couldn’t help but laugh, maybe you were judging lena before knowing her, but based on that interaction; it told you enough.

once kenji left to get ready, you decided you’d do the same.

your nerves spiked the closer it got time for the big event. you spent a good hour deciding what would be best to wear. you hadn’t realized you relied on warner for fashion help until that moment.

you settled on a floor-length gown with beautiful embroidered and beaded details. you tried to avoid putting any accessories gifted to you by warner, but it was nearly impossible.

you attempted a makeup look, and you thought you did a pretty good job. and if not, kenji never frayed from being brutally honest to your face.

a guard knocked at your door to alert you that it was time. you cross your finger before exiting the room. time to face everyone you’d been avoiding.

everyone who was to go to the symposium was gathered outside the base, awaiting the vehicle to take them to the meeting location. as expected, everyone was dressed formally.

warner was quick to spot you and hurriedly walked to you. you power walked to get away from him, and hopefully find someone you liked at the moment. but, nonetheless, he caught up to you.

“i don’t wanna talk to you.”

“please, amor. hear me out.”

warner pulls you close to him, holding your hands hostage at his chest. you look into his eyes, and you can see how tired he looks. he’s hadn’t slept well, and it was obvious.

“what could you possibly have to say to me?”

“what could i possibly not have to say to you?”

“i’m sure you rather entertain you’re ex-girlfriend over day, glaring daggers to us.”

“you know that’s not true.”

“do i? i don’t know anything that’s true lately.”

“i love you. my hearts burns for you greatly, and a moment without you is one i can’t bare.”

“i don’t want to hear—“

“my heart has always been yours. i’ll never be able to take back everything i’ve done, but i refuse to lose you because of it.”

“aaron.”

“you can scream or yell at me all you want, if it means you’ll stay by my side.”

his forehead presses against yours. his eyes are focused on every feature of your face that hes already committed to memory.

“say you forgive me, amor.” he whispers so vulnerably.

you want to kiss him. you want everything to be magically better after. you want to believe this is another challenge you both can overcome.

but you can’t. at least no so soon.

you’re holding back tears, but aaron already has one going down his face.

“i can’t.” you distance yourself from warner. “every time i see you, i’m reminded of your betrayal. reminded how much heart-ache you’ve caused me. it can’t be so easily forgotten, aaron. not when i still love you so much.”

you were thankful to be distracted when the guards informed you the rides were here. but your thoughts switched as you noticed you’d have to be enclosed with aaron, juliette, and kenji for fifteen minutes, especially when you had to sit next to warner because juliette was just as mad at him as well.

you the were first out given the chance. you were overwhelmed by the amount of people who showed. thinking about juliette and you having to speak in-front of them all was intimidating. and likely all of them hoped for your demise. fun.

now, juliette took the podium, and you were next to her. you two have yet to discuss anything, so you’ll have to wing your speech to match the tone of hers.

but before she could start, the chaos begins. numerous people being protesting and berating both you & juliette and sector 45.

it was all getting jumbled, but there were various ‘traitors’, ‘you’re just children!’, and ‘freaks.’

to defend juliette, you move to the microphone and angrily demand everyone to quiet down, you do your best to yell over the voices rioting.

out of nowhere, the stage you’re standing on explodes. you’re both launched ten or more feet back. then chaos ensues.

theres a ringing in your ear, making it hard to hear anything; only you witness it all from the ground. people running left and right, the stage was now on fire, and men in uniform started invading the premises.

you see juliette lying on the ground not too far from you. you croak her name, then aaron’s and kenji’s, but you’re not sure if you’re even using your vocals.

you feel yourself being dragged away, you’re unmoving. you feel numb, not able to identify which parts of you are injured.

it’s all happening on slow motion in your vision.

you can see the same happening to juliette. with your head above the ground you see a new perspective. you finally see your friends, some are lying motionless, others are running.

you find kenji helping others escape and aaron with him taking down as many guards. then aaron spots you being dragged away, and his eyes widen. he’s on the move to reach for you, but his distraction leaves an opening for a soldier to take him down from behind.

it takes five soldiers to hold him down, he’s yelling your name, and you don’t react. they finally hand cuff him, not wasting a moment to inject him with something strong enough to incapacitate him.

kenji follow the same fate, not being able to get away invisible before nazeera knocks him out.

a man stands in front of you, blocking you from seeing the scene. you recognize the black expensive boots immediately.

“seems we both have a habit of not staying dead.”

anderson lunges the barrel of the pistol against your head — then it all went black.

you were so sick of seventeen.

taglist — @ravisinghs-wife @tom-pls-fuck-me @valeridarkness @fallonaurr @whatsupb18 @letspretendimnottrash @heart-an0n @mrsspector-grant @kikilarast10 @nina357 @lupinswolfsbanes (some aren’t tagging D: ) tysm for the support <3

#aaron warner x reader #aaron warner #aaron warner anderson #aaron warner imagine #aaron warner fanfic #aaron warner x female reader #x reader #reader insert #reader imagine #shatter me #x female reader #juliette ferrars #kenji kishimoto #shatter me fanfic

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railingsofsorrow · 1 year

Text

summary: in which spencer doesn't know why there's a large amount of students auditing in his class. but you do. or... small drabble based on the following dialogue prompt: “... or maybe the fact that half of your students were auditing in your class?”

“What does that... they were interested in it.”

“I'd be interested in it, too, honey. If the teacher was you.”

pairing: s.reid x gn!reader

warnings/content: none; jealous!reader x oblivious!spencer (although they are in an established relationship).

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“... or maybe the fact that half of your students were auditing in your class?” You mumbled to yourself but it ended up being loud enough for whoever was close to you to hear it.

That would be Derek and Spencer, but only the latter picked up on what you said. And your tone, too. That part made him confused.

“Uh—” He stammered, suddenly feeling in uncharted territories. “What does that... they were interested in it.” He croaked out, adjusting his suit unconsciously.

Derek pulled one of his earpieces away when he noticed Spencer's shoulders tensing. His interesting spiking up when he saw your rapid scribbling on a casefile. That could only mean one thing.

“I'd be interested in it, too, honey.” Your mouth twisted as you bit your tongue, annoyance dripping in your voice. “If the teacher was you.”

Derek chocked up on his own saliva, attracting others attention but he didn't care, he just started laughing without control. Hotch gave him an unamused gaze.

JJ's curious eyes followed to the bickering couple.

“Thank you?” Spencer's frown deepened as he searched the answers to all that sarcasm in your features, but you wouldn't look at him, you attention was solely on your paperwork and that was starting to leave him on edge. Could you just be clear with what you intended to say? “Does that mean that you like my teaching method—”

Derek whistled as if they were on a tennis match and the player he was rooting for had just missed a ball. “Oh, pretty boy...”

Spencer turned to glare at him.

A little while later, everyone's attention drifted to their own world and Spencer stayed inevitably anxious at your side.

“Of course,” you said, locking eyes at him. You finally stopped the antsy scribbling. He blinked in surprise at your sudden reply. He thought you would just accept silence for the rest of the journey. “You're a great teacher, I've seen one of your classes, remember, love? I was there, paying attention, to the topic. And to you, obviously. Which, I'm certain, people were only doing the later.” You said as if you never stopped talking about it.

Spencer tilted his head. The action reminding you a lot of years ago, when you met him at his twenties. He used to do the exact same thing when he was trying to work out his ideas. It never stopped being endearing.“You mean paying attention to me? Shouldn't they do that? I'm the teacher.”

“Spencer.” You leaned forward, pulling a curl behind his ear. “Let me tell you a little secret,” you squeezed his shoulder softly so he could lean down closer to your mouth. He kept eyeing your lips and you had to hold back the inevitable smirk. “Half of your class has a crush on you. If not everybody. C'mon, love. Have you seen yourself?” He gaped at you and you knew his mind was trying to come up with a scientific explanation to revoke what you said. You didn't let him. “I don't blame them, if I was in college and you were teaching, I don't know, quantum physics? I would be happily auditing in your class. A pretty teacher and a boring subject? Count me in. It's just an added bonus, baby.”

Spencer was staring at you in complete bewilderment. Of all the things he expected you to say, that was not one of them. He didn't even have the braincells to disagree with you the quantum physics slander.

You pat his chest, gifting him a tight-lipped smile before standing up to grab some coffee claiming that you need something to keep you up on these two hours. He just stared in daze as you walked away.

When someone nudged his shoulder, he flinched, eyes moving from your figure in the galley to the handkerchief being offered to him.

He gave Rossi a questioned gaze.

“You have a...” the older man mentioned for the side of his mouth and Spencer touched the spot, looking for whatever he meant. “I think it's drooling. Yes.” Spencer lowered this hand with a blank look and then rolled his eyes. “Close your mouth, son.” Rossi shook his head with the corner of his lips lifting in amusement. “You'll catch flies.”

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A/N: hey so i just thought about this after that scene where reid asks who is auditing in his class and most of the people raise their hand (yk which one right?) I'm a simp for it. anyways, hope y'all have a great week. I'm sleepy bye <3

#spencer reid drabble #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #criminal minds imagine #spencer reid x gn!reader #reader insert

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pastshadows · 9 months

Text

Shadows of the Past

Chapter 5: Soaked in Desire

Summary: After a year of blissful cohabitation, Astarion disappears without a trace, leaving behind a heartfelt letter explaining his departure. Determined to find him, you traverse Faerûn in search of your lost love, only to realize that some absences are meant to be permanent.

Returning to Waterdeep, you find solace in the company of Gale as you come to terms with Astarion's absence. But just as you begin to heal, Astarion reappears, begging for a second chance at love.

The question looms: can you forgive his abandonment and trust him once more? As you grapple with your emotions and trauma, a sinister force lurks in the shadows, targeting you for unknown reasons.

With danger closing in, you must navigate the treacherous waters of trust, love, and betrayal to uncover the truth behind the mysterious entity's motives. Will you be able to reunite with Astarion while facing the demons of your past? Can you unravel the secrets that threaten your very existence?

Setting: Post End-Game. Mostly canon compliant.

Word Count: 6.6K

Content: Explicit 18+ - intended for mature audiences.

Warnings: [Additional tags will be added, but expect mature content / read at your own risk.

Spoilers. Mentions of in-game missable content. Violence. Sexual Assault [not in currently posted chapters; possibly upcoming - I haven't decided] Past Trauma. Murder. Death. Longing. Sexual themes. Smut. Blood drinking. Angst. Innuendos. High use of sarcasm. Completely fabricated camp interactions.

Please be warned - this chapter gets a little more graphic than previous chapters. Read at your own risk.

Aldous gives you another unconcealed, odious ogle. It makes your stomach churn. He looks at you like you’re nothing, but a piece of meat and he’s famished. He glowers are you threateningly, and you draw on the Weave almost unconsciously. You shift your position, straightening your spine until you’re standing as tall as you can, and squaring your shoulders.

The grand blazing inferno of your magic implores to be used. With a sneer, you stifle the compulsion to incinerate this miserable creep where he stands. Despite your restraint, the churning repugnance for this man causes your skin to alight ablaze under his provocative lour.

I should wipe him from this realm.

“My lady,” he tries to bow but stumbles forward, snorting to himself immersed in his insobriety.

“Go home, Aldous. You’re not thinking clearly.”

His words slur together as they roll off his alcohol-soaked, lax tongue, “Who could think clearly with such an enchanting woman near.”

Good Gods. I want to be sick.

“Go home.”

You say it in a low warning with a dangerous scowl adorning the usually delicate features of your face, having had quite enough of his dopey eyes stripping you bare.

“Your scales reflect the firelight ravishingly,” he takes a couple of lumbering, unsteady steps toward you, making you reflexively back away, “I do wonder, Saer, where else is your body embellished with such silky splendour.”

Your skin crawls as Aldous’s goggling, bulging eyes skim covetously over your frame. Your jaw clenches, and you grit your teeth as your stomach turbulently heaves.

“Is it true your ancestor fucked a dragon, or perhaps a dragon fucked your ancestor? The texts are not quite clear on the subject.”

Your palms heat so blisteringly hot they begin to glow in the murky darkness, and you ball them into fists at your side. You would usually never allow someone to speak to you in such a grotesque fashion, but retaliation was out of the question. If you hurt him, it could be traced back to you and, by extension, Gale, and you couldn’t risk it.

“I do not believe my ancestors or my origins are any of your concern. Leave me be.”

“Saer,” the way he says it sounds almost like a slanderous statement now, “I have not met many with a dragon in their ancestry, even in a city as big as this. Tell me, does that fiery temper extend to the bedroom? Do you erupt in a blazing glory when you spasm with your crescendo?”

Your stomach wretches so violently that you dry-heave. The burning disgust in your blood sparks in a berserk, ruthless surge, and your body suddenly feels like it’s fabricated of flame alone. Your skin crawls with the licking sensation of fire.

You cringe and shudder as you curb your instinctual desire to show him exactly what your blazing glory is capable of.

Aldous shambles forward as he reaches for you, and you jump backwards, “Do not touch me.”

“Sorceress, don’t play coy. I know somewhere we could go, somewhere private .”

He tries to wink, but his muscles can’t discern what exactly he’s asking them to do, and his face contorts awkwardly.

“No,” you growl through clenched teeth.

He takes another step toward you. Your body shakes with ever-increasing adrenaline and fury as this predator advances on you. You could end him here and now, and you would savour his burning demise, relish in it, but you suppress the urge of your twitching palm.

If I retaliate, it’s asking for trouble, and I can’t bring that to Gale’s doorstep.

“I believe the lady said no.” Astarion’s voice resounds from the murky darkness of the alley to your side, and your nerves rejoice in the sharp-edged, protective intonation.

You want to run to him, to be wrapped up in the safety he promises, but keep yourself firmly planted on the rigid ground with your fists balled up at your sides, leering at the soused noble threatening you.

Astarion stalks out of the alleyway with his scarlet eyes trained on Aldous. His jaw is clenched tightly, muscles vacillating the otherwise calm air.

With the sudden appearance, Aldous balks slightly, “Of course,” he laughs raucously, “the sorceress is a friend. We are just fooling around.”

Astarion stares at Aldous like an apex predator observing his next meal. Aldous sucks in a sharp breath and stumbles backwards, tripping over his own feet and falling to his arse on the hard stone pavement. You stifle a laugh.

Maybe I don’t scare him, but Astarion definitely does.

Astarion slips his hand into yours, once again interlocking your fingers together.

He winces slightly and leans close, “Cool down, darling. You’re burning me."

It takes you a moment to realize just how hot you’re burning. Your skin feels like a channel of molten flames. You try to pull away from him when you discern you’re hurting him, but Astarion holds your hand firmly and unwavering, not allowing you to retreat.

With a deep breath, you focus and take control of your innate ability and force your skin to cool.

“Do you want me to,” he pauses, “take care of this sod?”

Yes.

You yearn to see Astarion gut the wretched noble like a fish. You’re no stranger to death or murder. Some viewed you as the hero of Baldur’s Gate, but the undeniable truth is that you were never a hero. You have lived long enough to know that sometimes death and killing are necessary. It was an unspoken understanding and had drawn Astarion to you in the first place.

“No, he’s not worth the trouble. I would like to go home.”

“As you wish. One moment, my dear.”

Astarion lets go of your hand and strides confidently over to Aldous, who is still staring at you intensely with hate brimming in his eyes from the ground.

You hear the whistling trill of a blade being drawn. Astarion plays with his dagger dangerously, twirling it around skilfully in his hands while he crouches menacingly beside Aldous.

Should I stop him?

Nah.

He drags the tip of his dagger down over Aldous’s body, starting from the collar of his doublet to his stomach, before applying just enough pressure so that Aldous can feel the razor-sharp dagger tip well but not enough to tear fabric or flesh.

“If I see you joking with your friend like that again, I will be forced to spill your vile innards all over this lovely stone. We wouldn’t want that, would we?”

Aldous stares at the dagger digging into his stomach with widened eyes, tears brimming in them, and his mouth drops open in a silent scream.

“Nod you if you understand me,” Astarion growls ominously.

Aldous nods frantically, tears starting to slip down his cheeks.

Astarion smirks, pleased with the fear he’s instilling in the young man, “Good lad. Now, remind me, what does no mean?”

Aldous’s mouth opens and closes repeatedly, but fear constricts his throat, and no words spill out.

Astarion snarls, teeth bared, “Say it.”

“No.”

“I don’t think I heard you clearly - say it again.”

“It means no.”

Astarion stands, towering over Aldous, “You owe my friend your life.”

Astarion turns swiftly, his hand outstretched, and you take it, disappearing with him into the dark streets. When you glance back at Aldous, he sits on the ground, chest heaving, while he glowers at you with brimming hatred in his protruding eyes.

I doubt that’s the last of him.

Walking hand-in-hand down the darkened streets towards the manor with Astarion feels like a dream. The liquor still swimming around hot in your belly numbs your fears.

“Are you alright?”

You nod, “I’m fine. He’s hardly a threat, just another drunk noble who has a dismal concept of the meaning of no.”

“Who is he?”

“The son of the man who owns the bookstore Gale frequents, Aldous Blackwell.”

“I see… and he’s also your… friend?”

It’s official - I hate that word.

You recoil noticeably, “Absolutely not. He assisted me in the bookstore a couple of times, nothing more.”

“Have you told him that?”

You roll your eyes at him, “Gods.”

“A jest, my dear. Your distaste for him was obvious. I’ve never felt your skin burn quite so stiflingly, and I’ve felt just how hot you can get,” he winks, “Have you been holding out on me?”

You recall Astarion wincing when he touched you, “I’m sorry. Did I hurt you?”

“No, darling. I’m fine, but you likely would have scorched the skin off of that man.”

“One can only hope.”

He laughs, “You will tell me if that lout troubles you again, won’t you? I would enjoy killing him.”

“So would I.”

Astarion stops quickly and tugs your arm so that you fall into him. The back of his fingers caress your cheek delicately. His scarlet eyes ripple with concern as they search your face.

“Are you sure you’re alright?”

A soft smile tugs at your lips, “I’m okay, Astarion. Really.”

He nods and places a chaste, short kiss on your lips, “Okay. Let’s go home.”

When you arrive at the manor, Astarion walks you to your room.

“What about your prize? You won tonight, and we never discussed it. What did you win?”

“My prize, darling, was spending the night in your delightful company. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Astarion.”

You bathe, change and climb into your bed but lay awake. A part of you sulks that Astarion hadn’t chosen you as his prize.

Well, not in the sense I want anyway.

Probably for the best.

The anesthetizing effects of the liquor are starting to wane, and your resolve is tottering. All your heartache and fears cascade in a downpour once again.

Friends.

Astarion’s words hang in your mind, “my wife.”

Friends.

The word echoing in your thoughts makes you wince. Your face twists into a cringe as if the very idea of being his friend leaves a bad taste in your mouth.

I don’t want to be simply his friend.

Fear bubbles and curdles up in you like a boiling cauldron at the realization. Fear that chains you, binding you to this broken-hearted, jaded person you’ve become.

This has to stop. This scared, unhappy person is not who I am.

You have let your fear consume you whole. You let it drag you down into this bog you have been calling existence. It has stolen all the joy and colour from your life, turning it into shades of grey. Your past self would be ashamed of the person you’ve become.

No more.

No more running.

Your meditative trance creeps in as your body finally starts to settle, and with a deep, calming breath, you let it take you away without a fight.

Gale sits at the table while you prepare lunch for the both of you. You can barely recall the last time you even bothered making food.

“You seem rather chipper this afternoon. Are you feeling alright?”

Setting the food down, you draw in a deep breath, “I owe you an apology, Gale.”

“Whatever for?”

“I’ve been an all-together terrible guest. I haven’t been myself for quite some time, and I’m sorry for how I’ve acted since I’ve been here.”

“Are you ill? Should I write Shadowheart?”

You laugh, “Perhaps. It would be nice to see her.”

“She misses you. She said you haven’t been answering her letters.”

Another friend I’ve pushed away.

“I will write her, but first, I need to make things right with you.”

“As much as I do appreciate the apology, there’s truly no need. I am no stranger to sinking into the darkness of one’s own desolation,” he smiles, “I’m just glad you’re crawling your way back out again.”

“Thank you, Gale.”

Gale grins widely, “Anytime, my friend. Anytime. So, what brought this on? Do I have our fanged friend to thank for this?”

You laugh, “Not entirely. You actually have yourself to thank. I have been shackled to my fear for too long. You pointed that out.”

“I am rather wise from time to time, aren’t I?”

“From time to time.”

“And have you decided what you’re going to do about…” Gale trails off, looking unsure.

“Astarion?”

He nods.

Yes. No. Maybe?

“Not exactly. I still need to speak with him. Only time will tell if there can be any future for us.”

“If anyone can make it work with that immortal bastard, it’s you.”

You and Gale laugh, but a harsh, loud knock at the door interrupts your mirth.

Gale eyes the door, “Are you expecting someone?”

“No. You aren’t?”

He shakes his head, “No.”

Another booming knock echos through the entryway.

“I best go see who that is. Thank you for the lunch. You actually prepare food quite well. Who would have known?”

You smirk and roll your eyes, “I’m going to pretend I don’t hear surprise tinging your voice.”

Gale disappears down the hall in a hurry to answer the ceaseless, booming knocking shaking the door. Raised voices drift from the bright foyer, catching your attention. Walking down the corridor, Mr. Blackwell’s angry face comes into view, and your heart pounds in your chest.

That little worm.

Gale runs his fingers through his hair, “I think there must be a misunderstanding.”

“My son said someone in the company of your sorceress assaulted him and threatened his life!”

“Mr. Blackwell, I’m sure there’s another explanation.”

Movement in your peripheral vision catches your attention, and Astarion is standing on the stairs, well away from the sunlight streaming from the open door.

If Mr. Blackwell goes to the authorities, they will take him to prison…

“It was me!” You blurt out.

Astarion shakes his head, narrowing his eyes, warning you not to take the blame. You scramble out the door into the sunlight before he can pull you away.

“It was me. I assaulted Aldous.”

Gale bulks at you wide-eyed, confusion pulling his brow down in the furrow.

Mr. Blackwell narrows his eyes at you, “No. Aldous specifically said it was a man, a tall Elf with red eyes.”

You seethe, “Aldous was quite drunk. He could barely stand. His memory can’t be trusted.”

“My boy does not lie!”

“But he does drink, no? Heavily, might I add, and then speak salaciously to people? He spoke his filth to the wrong woman last night, and I taught him a lesson you have failed to teach him.”

“You dare accuse my son of this heinous behaviour?!” Mr. Blackwell spits out harshly, “I’m sorry, Gale. I will be reporting this to the authorities. We are friends, but I cannot let this slight on my family go.”

“Surely, we can work this out without involving the authorities. I’m sure it was a simple misunderstanding.”

Gale nudges you, trying to get you to play along.

You swallow the hatred rising in your throat and force a smile, mustering every ounce of charisma available to you, “Yes, of course. Perhaps I overreacted. I do have a fiery temper, after all.”

I need to smooth this over.

Gritting your teeth, you coat your voice in your most persuasive tone, putting your silver tongue to use once again, “I will come to apologize to Aldous. If you will allow it, of course.”

At the reassuring cadence of your voice, Mr. Blackwell’s scowl eases up, and he thinks, “Yes, an apology might just suffice. I will speak to my son. If he agrees, perhaps we can deal with this incident civilly between friends.”

Friends. Ugh. That word is everywhere.

Mr. Blackwell departs with a huff, his nose held up in a snobby, holier-than-though expression that makes you want to throw a fireball at him.

Gale closes the door, and Astarion races down the stairs as soon as the sun is blocked.

“What in the Hells do you think you’re doing?!”

His brows are pulled down in a frightful scowl, his teeth bared.

“I’m dealing with it.”

“I will not let you apologize to that wretch.”

Gale interrupts, “Would one of you care to explain to me what has happened?”

Astarion looks at him, “I threatened the boy last night.”

“Yes, I surmised that much, but why?”

You run your hand over your face, “Aldous was drunk and getting rather… belligerent. You know I’ve rebuffed him enough times. I think he took offence.”

“For the love of…” Gale’s hand pinches the bridge of his nose, “You did quite well persuading Mr. Blackwell. Not that I am surprised, of course. I have seen you talk yourself out of far worse situations.”

“And I will talk my way out of this one.”

“No!” Astarion shouts, “You should not have to atone for my conduct.”

“Do you trust me, Astarion?”

He blinks, “Of course.”

“Then trust me to take care of this as I would trust you to pick a lock, pick a pocket or disarm a trap. Charming people is my talent.”

“Ugh,” he sighs, “I do not like this.”

Gale pipes up, “If what you say is true, nor do I.”

They would gang up on me, but at least they agreed on something. Small miracles, right?

“Both of you forget who you’re speaking to sometimes, I swear. I’ve made my choice, and your objections are noted.”

Gale and Astarion’s mouths open to argue with you further, but you put up your hand and stop them, “I will hear no more on the subject.”

They both glower at you. Gale and Astarion both huff exasperatedly and shake their heads.

Did I just shut Gale and Astarion up simultaneously?

With you putting a halt to any further discussion, Gale excuses himself to visit with his mother on the upper floors of the tower. Astarion snickers, and you frown a warning at him. He huffs and crosses his arms over his chest, rolling his eyes at you.

If he had it his way, he would be mocking Gale right this minute.

You can see Astarion listening to Gale’s footsteps as they scuff across the top floors of the manor, his eyes following the sound before darting back to you with a frown.

“You’re a bloody fool, you know that?”

“I said no more discussion. My mind is made up, and it’s not going to change.”

Astarion smirks, “We could simply kill him and his father now, I suppose."

You give him a shove, and he smiles at you slyly. Your moral compass is not exactly pointing straight. You’re not averse to killing, and you never have been. You kill mercilessly and without guilt when the situation calls for it, but you do attempt not to spill blood unless necessary.

Well… most of the time.

“No, I don’t believe this situation calls for killing. At least, not yet.”

He pouts, “Pity.”

Returning to the kitchen, you try to enjoy the rest of your lunch that was so rudely interrupted. Astarion sits at the table with a brooding glower on his face.

“I’m sorry I got you into this mess.”

“You did no such thing,” you smile playfully, “I rather enjoyed seeing him terrified, crying and whimpering like the child he is.”

“I’m glad I was able to provide you some fine entertainment during our little outing.”

He’s going to try and talk me out of it.

Astarion takes your hand across the table, “Darling, don’t do this, please.”

There it is.

“I’ve made my mind up. This is the best way to handle it, and I think you know that. If Mr. Blackwell goes to the authorities, they will take you to prison.”

“My dear, I’ve never met a cell I can’t escape.”

“It’s not worth the risk, Astarion. I need you to trust me on this.”

“I trust you implicitly,” he scowls, “It’s the boy I don’t trust.”

“Astarion.”

“Ugh, yes, “my objections are noted,” he mocks you, “Stubborn little thing.”

You flash him your most angelic smile. He groans, leaning back in his chair, defeated.

“I’m going back to bed. The knocking woke me, and I need my beauty sleep.”

“Sleep like the dead, darling!” You imitate him.

He smirks, “Hilarious."

Returning to your room, you light the fire and a candle by your bedside. Pulling out a stack of letters, you slip onto your bed and stare at them. Your fingers caress the rough parchment. Shadowheart has been writing you, but you’d left them piling up for months unopened and unread. It wasn’t something you did intentionally. Every time a letter came in, you intended to read it, but somehow, it ended up on the stack with all the others you had planned to read.

Some friend I am.

It takes hours to read through every letter, and by the time you’re ready to write her back, your hand hesitates over the blank paper. You aren’t entirely sure what you would like to say.

You and Shadowheart had been close. She had been one of your best friends, but you had pushed her away just like you had pushed everyone else away in your self-imposed stockade of misery.

A knock on your doorframe escorts you out of your thoughts in a hurry. Astarion stands at the precise of your open door.

“When you have a moment, I would like to speak with you.”

You’re face flushes, and you feel like your heart skips several beats before settling into a vicious rhythm. Your chest constricts against your raging heart, and your throat feels tight. Every nerve in your body hums, and you shake all over.

He’s leaving.

“I have a moment now. Where do you want to talk?”

“My room. Come.”

Following Astarion down the hall to his room feels very much like walking to your death. The hallway feels far too small, and the ceiling too low. Everything feels like it’s closing in on you. Your thoughts spiral out of your control as the anxiety coils in your stomach.

We need to talk?

He’s going to run, isn’t he?

What did I do now?

What did I say?

Tears are already threatening to spill out of your eyes, but you try to blink them away. You’re lower lip quivers uncontrollably.

Astarion closes the door behind you, and you stand with your arms wrapped around you, trying to calm your urge to run.

Astarion’s scarlet eyes meet yours, “What’s wrong?”

“Are you running again?”

Astarion eyebrows rise in shock, and he crosses the room in long strides, wrapping you up in his arms, and you bury your face into him, “Hells, you’re trembling all over.”

“Are you leaving me again, Astarion?”

You can’t keep your tears back, and they start gliding down your reddened cheeks.

“Darling, look at me.”

Fear paralyzes your mind and body. His words seem far away, and you don’t comprehend them.

“Look at me, my love,” his cool hand cradles your face, and he gently directs your eyes to his, “I’m never going to leave you again. I promise.”

Promise?

Astarion doesn’t make promises unless he knows he can keep them.

Astarion fingers brush away your tears, “I’m sorry I frightened you.”

“If it’s not that, what did you want to speak about? If this is about Aldous-”

“No, my dear. I know you well. Trying to change your mind would be nigh on impossible. No, I wanted to talk about the other night.”

You’re eyebrow cocks, “What night?”

“Your nightmare.”

Run, your mind chants.

“I… I don’t want to talk about my nightmares yet.”

“I understand, and I will wait until you do, but that’s not the part I wanted to speak about.”

“Okay, what is?”

Astarion takes a deep breath, odd for him, “You touched me, and I jumped away from you.”

Oh….

“It’s fine, Astarion,” you smile, “You don’t have to explain this to me.”

“I know. I want to. I haven’t been touched in,” he pauses, “a while. The sensation caught me off guard.”

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have do-”

Astarion’s fingers come to your lips, “Stop,” he smiles, “Darling, I wanted you to, really wanted you to, but when you did, it brought up those old feelings.”

Fuck.

“I won’t do it again.”

“Fool woman,” he clicks his tongue in disapproval, “I want you, all of you. Gods, you have no idea how difficult it’s been to keep my hands off of you. Well, for the most part,” he winks.

“But?”

Astarion takes a seat on the bed, and you climb up and sit next to him. He looks ruminative, and you wonder what is going on in his mind.

“I think I would like to try some things. If you’re willing, of course.”

Try some things?

“What would you like to try?”

“I’d like you to touch my back, my scars specifically.”

He’s figuring out what triggers him and trying to work on it.

You balk a little at the request. His scars have always been somewhere you generally avoided touching.

“That is difficult for you.”

He sighs, “Which is precisely why I need to do it, and I need your help.”

“Always.”

“Thank you. We… we could start now if you’re not busy, of course.”

“Shirt on or off?”

He smiles, “Trying to get my shirt off already?”

“I'll admit, I do enjoy the view, but this isn’t about me. It’s whatever you’re comfortable with.”

Astarion removes his shirt, “I wouldn’t want to deny you the view, as you say.”

“Astarion…”

“Relax, my dear. This is the way it must be.”

“You will tell me when to stop, right? Before it gets too much for you?”

Astarion kisses the pads of your fingers softly, “I will tell you.”

“Tell me when you’re ready.”

“I’m as ready as I will ever be, darling.”

Your fingers hesitate, hovering above the scars, and he giggles, “I can feel the warmth from your skin, but not your actual skin, my dear. Don’t be afraid. This is what I want, what I need.”

Taking a deep breath, you allow your fingers to gently caress the raised scars as lightly as you possibly can. You’ve seen these countless times, of course, but you’ve never spent time touching them, not like this.

Astarion’s jaw clenches, and he tremors slightly. You lift your hand promptly away from him. You hate seeing him in discomfort and feel even worse that you are putting him through it, even at his request.

“Keep going.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, if you can get past all the other emotions, it feels kind of nice.”

You lower your hand to his back and slowly trace the infernal script with your fingers. The scars are smooth like the rest of his silky skin, but there are jagged edges to some, and you wonder if that’s where Cazador made his revisions. You nearly shudder at the thought.

You lose yourself in those lines, in the softness of his skin and the intimacy and trust of this moment. There’s no way to know how much time passes.

“Stop.”

You drop your hand away from him instantly. Astarion turns, takes your hand in his, and kisses the back.

“Thank you.”

“Are you okay?”

Please be okay. Please don’t run.

He smiles genuinely, “I will be.”

“Do you need some time alone? I can leave…”

He chuckles, “Actually, there is one more thing I would like your help with.”

“What?”

“Have a bath with me.”

You sputter, “You want to have a bath?” Your eyes shift from side to side, “Together?”

“I would love nothing more if you’re willing.”

“But what about….” Your face flushes hot and red.

A devious half-smile quirks up his lips, “Finish the sentence, darling.”

“The sensations… you pulled away.”

Astarion giggles at your bumbling with a look of amusement at your sheepishness.

“You were not this shy before, but then again, I suppose we weren’t merely friends then.”

“I am not shy!”

“Oh? Then say what you mean, love.”

Why am I being shy? I was never shy with him.

Taking a deep breath, you bolster yourself and force the words out of your mouth, “When I touched your cock, you leapt away as if I burnt you. A bath… you can’t tell me that won’t happen.”

“Such vulgar language,” he tuts with a darkly mischievous smirk, “I do love it when you say cock, particularly when talking about mine.”

Heat rises to your face, and you flush bright red as he teases you.

Gods, what’s wrong with me?

“Would you like to bathe with me or not? We don’t have to if you’re not comfortable with it.”

Fuck this.

“It better be hot!”

He smiles smugly, “I remember the way you like it, my love.”

Does he?

Astarion fills the large tub. Steam floats off the water, fogging a wall-hanging mirror by the washbasin. You stare at the bath in trepidation. Is this a good idea? Is he pushing himself too far? Should you even be doing this with your friend ? You hear the faint click of the lock on his bedroom door.

I could never simply be his friend.

I need to speak to him. Soon.

Astarion’s hand comes to your lower back, “May I undress you?”

You nod, and his hands slip under your shirt, and he strips it slowly off of you. Your chest heaves with a mixture of anxiety, excitement and arousal. The cold air makes your nipples harden almost instantly into peaks. Feeling suddenly shy under his crimson gaze, you cover yourself.

Hells. He’s right. I am being shy.

Astarion moves your arms gently away, “You’re a vision. I never want you to feel you have to hide from me.”

His fingers trail over several new scars that mark your body, acquired while you were out looking for him, “So many of these are new."

You shift your eyes away from him.

“I won’t pry, but I do hope you will tell me what happened one day.”

“I need to trust you again first.”

“I understand.”

He trails his fingers around the waistband of your pants, “May I?”

You take a deep breath and nod. He hooks his fingers in the band and pulls them down your legs. Crouching, he helps you step out of them. You’re bared to him now, and his hooded red eyes take you in sensually.

Astarion’s cool hand glides up the counters of your body while he stands. His hands reach for the ties of his trousers, and he undoes them in a flash and slips out of them.

He’s definitely not shy.

It’s the first time you’ve seen him naked since he left, and your eyes devour that beautiful sight.

My memories didn’t do him justice.

“Enjoying yourself, darling?”

“Thoroughly.”

He laughs, “Good. Me too.”

Astarion steps into the tub and holds his hand out to you. Taking it, you step into the hot water with him.

He really does remember how hot I like my baths to be.

Astarion sits down, sinking into the hot water and sighs happily, closing his eyes. You sit towards the opposite side of the tub, being extra careful not to let your body touch his too much and keeping your knees hugged to your chest.

Thank Gods Gale has oversized tubs.

Astarion’s eyes open, and his brows furrow, “Why so far away?”

“I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

“Still excessively gentle with me, I see,” he tuts, “Come here, my love. I wish to sit together like we used to.”

Before he left me...

Slowly, you move toward him, turning around and putting your back against his chest. You keep your body rigid, careful not to touch his crotch, but it’s uncomfortable, contorting your body in an awkward position.

Nothing like before he left. I would sink into him.

Astarion trails soft kisses up your neck, his lips ghosting your ear, “I want this.”

Your skin flushes, and heat pools in between your thighs, accompanied by the all-too-familiar pulsing throb.

Ugh, not this again. I need to control myself.

Bit by bit, you allow your body to relax in increments, doing your best to watch for any signs he’s been pushed over a boundary, but he just giggles at you.

“Stop giggling at me, Astarion!”

“Sorry, darling. You’re just too cute.”

You huff and scowl at him before letting your body completely relax.

“Good girl,” he purrs.

His arms come around you, and he hugs you even closer, “May I wash you?”

“You have me naked and pressed up against you in a tub. Why do you keep asking permission?”

Astarion kisses your cheek, “We are friends, no? I do not know the proper etiquette for bathing with friends .”

Friends. Ugh.

You want to rip that word out of his vocabulary so he can never utter it again.

Well, two can play this game.

“You may wash me, friend.”

He chuckles and brings a washcloth up your arm, over your shoulder and down, grazing your nipple. You suck in a sharp breath, arching your back at the delicate sensation. Astarion repeats the same trail on the other side, and you whimper when the washcloth grazes your other nipple.

Your swollen clit aches with each movement of his hands over your body, and you squeeze your thighs together to relieve some of the intense pulsing.

Astarion kisses down your neck and across your collarbone. The cool embrace of his lips compared to the searing heat of your skin and the water make a chill run down your spine, and it takes everything you have not to writhe against him on the spot.

You’re desperate to feel closer to him, to be consumed by him. Your heart beats rapidly, your chest heaves and your voice comes out in a breathy, pleading whimper.

“Astarion?”

“Yes?”

“Bite me.”

You feel his sharp fangs sink into your neck, and your core clenches and spasms. Your hands find his thighs and squeeze. He holds you steady, hard against him, and you can feel his growing erection at your back. He moans into your neck, and you swear that sound alone could be your undoing.

He eases his grip on you. Immediately, his finger comes to your chin to bring your gaze to his. He finds your lips with a growl that reverberates in his chest.

He knows I like to taste myself on him.

He parts his lips, and you skillfully explore his mouth, tasting yourself and him mixed, and you moan against him.

Astarion pushes his erection further into you with a breathy hiss. You want to feel it, taste it, be filled by it, but you keep your hands firmly planted on his thighs. You don’t want to take it too far, especially since he said he hasn’t been touched in a while. He needs to feel in control of when and how he is touched.

Astarion’s hand travels languidly down your stomach and your skin prickles at the sensation.

Keep going.

Wait.

Should I stop him?

No.

He splits your folds with his finger, and you buck your hips and groan into his chest. His tongue laps up some of the remaining blood from the fresh bite as his fingers find your swollen clit. You can’t help yourself, and you push harder up against him. His pulsing erection pressed firmly against you.

“Gods below,” he groans in your ear.

Your whole body quivers as he strokes, circles and teases the pulsing bundle of nerves.

“Do friends do this?” He growls.

You can hardly think with him expertly caressing your throbbing flesh, barely put together words between your whimpers, moans and frantic pants.

His fingers slow, and your body cries at the end of his delicious touch, “Astarion. Gods. Please.”

“Then answer me,” he taunts commandingly, “Do friends do this?”

Squeezing your eyes shut, you manage to pant out a reply, “N-no.”

“That’s right, darling,” he coos, “They don’t.”

Astarion’s fingers start massaging and stroking the aching bundle of nerves, setting a merciless rhythm. Your legs quake and twitch, tilting your pelvis further into his touch. You feel the familiar tightening start to curl up in your stomach. Your body quivers with his precise movements, and your chest heaves.

So close.

“A-Astarion…”

“Yes, my love,” he growls, “Cum for me.”

You start to spasm and tremor, shockwaves gripping your body as if he gave the command, and your body obeyed. You convulse so strongly and violently that you scream out in sheer ecstasy, and Astarion uses a hand to muffle your incoherent, wanton cries. Water sputters up and splashes on the floor from your frantic movement.

“Darling, if you keep screaming like that, you’re going to make the wizard jealous.”

“Astarion,” you pant.

“Yes?”

“For the love of the Gods, don’t talk about “the wizard” right now.”

He nuzzles your neck and kisses your temple, “Gladly.”

With one last shudder, you sag back into him, and your back presses up against his throbbing cock.

“What about you?”

He smiles devilishly, “I have an idea for that too.”

“You’re full of great ideas today. Care to share?”

“I want your hand to do it, but I want to control it.”

You nod your understanding. He’s not ready to take it further just yet, but you had to start somewhere, and this was as good a place to start as any.

“Dry off and go to the bed.”

You and Astarion dry off and move to the bed. You stare at his cock, precum glistens at the tip, and you fight the urge to take him in your mouth, missing his taste.

“As much as I am happy to let you sit there and gawk for as long as you would like, I would much rather feel your hand around my cock, darling.”

You don’t need to be asked twice. You wrap your hand around him. He pulsates under your grip. His hips jerk at the contact, and he hisses in a sharp inhale and groans. His hand wraps over yours, making you grip him tighter.

“Hells, I’ve missed your hands on me.”

You let him set the pace. It starts slow and controlled. His eyes flutter closed, and his face twists in pleasure handsomely. Thick strands of precum dribble out the swollen tip.

His eyes open and meet yours, gliding over your naked body, relishing in it, and he picks up the pace. His fangs peek out as his lips part in a moan. He squeezes your hand around his cock tighter. He rolls his hips and increases the tempo. You’ve seen him reach his peak countless times, and you know he’s close.

Seeing him like this, you can already feel your arousal rising again. Your skin flushes, your core clenches, and you want to squirm on the bed, but with considerable effort, you manage to keep yourself still.

With a groan, he throws his head back, and his mouth drops open. He whimpers your name through muddled, breathless hisses and pants. He stills, and with one final stroke, thick spurts of cum shoot onto his abdomen and dribble down your hands, gathering on his lower abdomen.

Beads of sweat roll down his temples and his body glistens.

Astarion releases his grip on your hand, and you release him in turn. He pulls you to him and kisses you. This kiss isn’t about lust, arousal or pleasure. This is pure love and intimacy physically manifested, and it reminds you of before he left.

I love you. You want to tell him; you want to scream it but swallow the urge.

Astarion grabs the towel he brought, “Hand, darling.”

You hold out your hand soaked with his release, and he wipes it for you with a smirk before cleaning himself up.

“Quite the eventful bath, friend.”

“Are you okay?”

He smiles, “Yes.”

“Good, friend.”

Astarion chuckles, but it's cut short as his head snaps toward the door, “Get dressed. Gale is summoning us.”

You dress in a hurry and go downstairs with Astarion. Gale is pacing up and down the corridor to the entryway. Brows furrowed, muttering to himself.

“Gale, what’s wrong?”

“Aldous has agreed to see you tomorrow. It says you must go alone.”

Lovely.

Thank you to all those who read/like/comment/follow/reblog/etc. I hope you're enjoying reading this! Let me know what you think :)

Chapters Master List - Shadows of the Past

If you're interested, I also write fanfic for Ascended Astarion x Spawn Tav - Fangs and Fractured Hearts

AO3: Crossposted

Small Notes: - I'm not a smut writer, so hopefully, the smutty parts get better as I get more practice. I'm working on it. :)

#astarion ancunin #astarion x mc #astarion smut #astarion x reader #astarion x tav #astarion #bg3 astarion #astarion x you #astarion romance #baldurs gate astarion #shadows of the past #astarion baldurs gate #astarion bg3 #spawn astarion

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dnkinktober · 1 year

Text

just one week until kinktober begins!!!

some basic info again for all you kinky creatives preparing your submissions:

creations in all mediums are welcomed and encouraged! fic, text posts, art in any form, audio posts, you name it. there are no word count requirements for written submissions.

you can create as many or as few works as you’d like. prompts are just suggestions; feel free to mix and match or come up with your own ideas.

use the tag #dnkinktober so we can reblog your submission. you can also add submissions to the “death note kinktober 2023” AO3 collection (link will be added on oct 1)

rules:

participants must be at least 18 years old.

works containing underage content will not be accepted (this includes pre-timeskip wammy’s house content of mello/near/matt)

please tag your work accordingly.

this is a slander-free event. please keep negative comments to yourself.

SUPER excited for this event and thank you to everyone involved. make sure to follow this acct to stay updated and see all the beautiful submissions!

FAQ below:

Q: what can be submitted?

A: most forms of art will be accepted: fic, text posts, art in any medium, audio posts, you name it. feel free to get creative!

Q: do I have to add my submission to this collection and/or tumblr?

A: whatever you’re comfortable with! to submit your post on tumblr and have it reblogged by the official death note kinktober blog, please tag your post #dnkinktober

Q: are there any requirements for submissions?

A: aside from the rules listed here, there are no real requirements! you can submit as many or as few works as you’d like, combine prompts, come up with your own prompts, submit short text posts, and more! feel free to participate in a way that works best for you.

Q: are any ships not allowed?

A: all ships will be accepted and welcomed! no ships are off limits and i hope to see some rarepairs :)

Q: is wammy’s house content allowed if I specify that the characters are over 18?

A: yes, as long as it’s clear that the characters are 18 or older, wammy’s content is fair game. but please don’t just write underage characters and say that they’re aged up.

Q: does content have to be submitted on the day of the prompt?

A: submitting content of the day of the prompt you’re writing for is greatly appreciated. however, if you forget to submit or have submissions that contain multiple prompts, they will still be accepted!

Q: can I submit something I’ve already created that fits a prompt?

A: sure! published or unpublished, it doesn’t matter.

#dnkinktober #death note #kinktober #kinktober 2023 #spread this like wildfire

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qierxing · 1 year

Text

War Cry

Commissioned by the lovely Veritaventis Yan! Kaeya Alberich x OC

“Khaenri'ah, huh? You sure know a lot! The legacy of Khaenri'ah is long gone. The sinners are all that's left, and they're not worth mentioning.”

i. “Sacrifices must be made.”

Briony would like to say she’s lived to see many things.

Her life has long made its way through the wheel of fortune; and with each high and low she has always endured. Unfortunate deaths, nasty slander, betrayals from those she thought she could trust. What’s a little apocalypse on top of it all?

Where is her wheel pointing now?

She’s studied Khaenri’ah. Built by humans, for humans–she thought reading through all the old texts and inscriptions would have prepared her for–for something. A sign. A prophecy of some sorts. Anything that could have prepared her for fire, screaming, and terrible monsters heard only in stories. What good does being the leading expert on the topic do if it doesn’t help you?

It was like the gates to hell had opened: hilichurls, abyss mages, heralds, dark shadow knights, and all manners of monsters flooded the stone streets. The skies turned dark, ominous purple clouds shutting out the sun. The ground trembled as they marched amidst the screams of frightened citizens. They did not falter or stop, even as people ran this way and that.

She’s one of the luckier ones, she knows. At least she had a Vision. The abyss forces did not hold back their intimidation, whether that meant setting fire to innocent families’ houses or cutting down those who happened to be in their path. It was all she could do to pull people out of the way of monsters.

Last she was able to remember during the chaos, Razor and Fischl were trying to hold back abyss mages from the elder Adventure Guild members while Bennett was doing his best to evacuate them to safety. That was all she was able to catch before she was lifted away screaming and pounding on Kaeya’s back. That bastard. She thought nothing could phase her anymore after her adopted brother attempted to sabotage her career in the name of family. Evidently, she was proven wrong.

She sucks in a deep breath, knuckles taut around the kitchen counter. Focus. The ingredients sit in front of her tauntingly. Apples, beef, carrots…she’s made this stew too many times to count. At this point, she’s sure she could make the dish blind.

First, the vegetables and beef. The knife in her hands feels heavy as she chops the carrots and dice the apples. Did the soldiers who came through the gates feel the same with their blades? Even as people cried out, they did not blink as they slashed through flesh as they marched on. Those abyss heralds–how could they have been humans if they could so easily cut down their own?

Focus! She shakes her head violently. The meat and vegetables are done, so now it’s time to start caramelizing them along with the aromatics. The hiss of the butter and garlic clears her mind if only for a moment. Her hands drop in the carrots and onions automatically, moving the spoon to evenly distribute them across the bottom.

Bennet, Fischl, and Razor, were they okay? They were still so young–even if they were seasoned adventurers and fighters, they cannot take on a full legion of hilichurls and abyss mages by themselves. Archons, what if they–no, they wouldn’t do that. They wouldn’t sink so low to harm mere children…would they?

Venti, where was he in the chaos? The steak sizzles as the air is filled with a hearty aroma as she makes sure to sear each side. The apples and potatoes follow after. Briony knows that Venti is more than the weak bard he presents himself as, but she worries nonetheless. Poetic ballads do not halt the hearts of tyrants and monsters.

Almost done. She pours in water, adding seasoning and herbs, before putting on the lid. Jean. Was she okay? She once again finds herself clutching the counter, staring off into nothing. If the mere townspeople were nothing more than cannon fodder to the troops that stormed through, then she can only imagine what has happened to the Knights of Favonius order, the protectors of Mondstadt.

“Smells good~” Warm air puffs into her ear and her world screeches to a stop.

The knife in her hands finds its way upon a defined jugular.

If there’s anything she knows, it’s that Kaeya loves his games. She swears it’s some way to stimulate the constantly active brain that he has. (If she had to make it into a thesis report, she bet she could write it in a day) So she knows that she shouldn’t give him the reactions he wants. But somehow, he just always knows how to get under her skin. Is it his inherent ability to be annoying? Or an acquired talent? Either way, it’s infuriating.

Kaeya grins, despite the blade pin pricking his skin and letting out beads of ruby red blood.

“Whoa there, honey. This is quite a greeting for you.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t be sneaking up on people in the first place.” She bites back.

“What can I say? You just make the cutest faces when you’re surprised.”

She scrunches her face in disgust, and he laughs heartily, as if he weren’t close to having his throat slit.

“What’s for dinner?” Kaeya tilts his head as she continues to glare. He opts to lean around to check the pot, and turns to her with a cat-like grin on his face.

“Let me guess. Northern Apple stew?”

She wants to smack that smug look off his face. As if he had any right to talk about how she turned to her comfort food to destress. She could write essays upon essays on Kaeya’s inordinate love of wine and all things alcoholic and how cause and effect from personality and trauma played into it.

“If you keep acting like that, I’m not letting you have any.” She brusquely replies, removing the pot from the stove and putting out the fire. Kaeya follows her to the quaint dining table as she sets down the pot.

He hums. “Why, you break my heart. You know I love your cooking more than anything.”

Not enough to keep your loyalty to Mondstadt, but she keeps her mouth shut. She’s so drained, she’s not sure she can play tonight’s round of psychological warfare. Instead, she watches as Kaeya sets out the cutlery and plates, waving at her to sit down.

Dinner is strangely quiet, however. She expects some kind of stupid quip as they cut into the beef and spear a fork through the potatoes. Or an exaggerated re-telling of his day of work; maybe even just a fantastical story of pirates and mermaids. But there’s none, and she finds the dead silence more unsettling than Kaeya’s smooth timber.

“You must hate me, huh?”

She pauses, fork halfway to her mouth. Putting it down, she ruminates on what she should say.

Yes, is the first thing that comes to her mind. No, is what follows after–because even after everything he’s done, he’s one of the few to see her for her without any rose filters or expectations. She can breathe around him, talk to him without fearing the weight of her words. After spending years in stifling academic seminars and upright noble balls, Kaeya was a person she could trust to be impartial and free.

“It’d be hard for me to say that I don’t hate you right now.” She manages evenly.

Kaeya observes her face then closes his eyes, no doubt thinking about her statement.

“I won’t ask you to forgive me,” he begins, “Just know that I had my own reasons. And this is the best outcome.”

Something in her snaps. From nerves, from anxiety, or just from being tired of having to deal with Kaeya for so long, she’s not sure.

“The best outcome is Mondstadt being burned down?” She slams her hands on the table, standing up. “Innocent people have been assaulted, ‘all for the best outcome’? Are you hearing yourself right now?”

Kaeya’s starry eye reflects her visage angry and out of breath, sending shudders down her spine.

“The townspeople have been mostly unharmed.” Her eyes widened at the casual statement. Then, the kids, they were okay? And even the Adventure Guild elders? Oh, thank the Seven–

“And the Knights have peacefully surrendered to cooperate with Khareni’ah.” Her heart drops to her stomach. Did Jean realize the price she had to pay when those monsters stormed in? Or was her hand forced against her will?

“Peacefully, huh?” She envisions the beef she’s stabbing is Kaeya’s flesh; if only for a bitter, violent moment.

“Would you rather have them forced into submission?”

Her blood runs cold at the empty expression Kaeya’s face adorns. There’s a glint in his eyes that she’s never seen before, not even when she saw him facing enemies. Her eyes narrow into dagger points.

Is this his true face?

–

ii. “Now cut me loose: I’ll show you the meaning of sacrifice.”

Kaeya knew the consequences of taking Khaenri’ah's hand.

"This is your chance. You are our last hope."

He could’ve forgotten his father’s words when his hands clasped around his shoulders that fateful night. Turned over a new leaf when Crepus found him soaked to the bone near the vineyard, hurrying him inside before he could die of hypothermia. When Varka knighted him, he could’ve moved on from the past and broken free from his father’s heavy expectations upon him.

And yet, even after Crepus died, he could not stop but think about how even the mighty fell.

So he resolves turning his back on Diluc's betrayed face, not just once, but twice. He puts aside what Jean had taught him in protecting Mondstadt, if only to crush the guilt that came with facing her as she is surrounded by abyss heralds. He knows Lisa would’ve wiped him off the map if they tried to do anything to Jean. And Amber, the young clever outrider who has always pointed at him anytime something suspicious happened. Now, she will no longer be wrong.

But he could not turn back now.

Khaenri’ah was his home. They were humans, just like the other nations. Even if the Heavenly Principles gave judgment upon his country, they are, and still, people at their core. And when his countrymen fell, what did the other Archons do?

They turned away and closed their eyes.

Still, even if Briony had tried, he knew she could not do the same. Not when she was forced to face him and his eyes. That is the one thing he always found endearing about her. It was hard to find someone like her who is able to care, and so fiercely and genuinely at that. Even as rumors swirled around him, she still smiled and invited him in for tea on a sunny afternoon.

But if he had to be honest, maybe what he enjoyed most, is when she gets mad.

The fire in her eyes burns brighter than even Diluc’s flames that scorched his right eye that fateful rainy night. Like the explosive burn of Death After Noon, Briony’s sharp rebuttals leave no one standing. Her words are no longer shrouded and censored by an internal review, but instead carry the blunt force of the knowledge she carries. He’s beginning to realize he’s developed quite the titillating taste for the finer things in life.

He waits for her heavy breaths to slow and regulate.

“The townspeople have been mostly unharmed.” He watches as Briony perks up at his sentence. He knows that her pride won’t allow her to ask him directly about the people she cares about. “And the Knights have peacefully surrendered to cooperate with Khaenri’ah.”

A flurry of emotions flit by on her face. Relief for a couple moments, then worry, and finally, anger, once again.

“Peacefully, huh?” She scoffs as she forcefully spears a fork into a piece of beef.

“Would you rather have them forced into submission?”

“Don’t be morbid.”

“I’m just saying,” he hums, amused at her pointed glare, “it could’ve turned out a lot worse than what the current situation is.”

Her knife makes a ugly screech as she pointedly drags it across the ceramic while cutting into the beef. “And there are situations where it shouldn’t be happening at all.”

He twirls the knife in his hands as he meets her eyes. “Riddle me this, O’ leading expert on Khaenri’ah. What do you think these forces are hoping to achieve from all this?”

It’s clear that she’s taken aback at his sudden question. Her face flickers between confusion and distrust, unsure of his intentions behind the words. There’s something captivating in the way her dark eyebrows and viridian eyes scrunch in deep thought, clever mind already turning wheels upon his question.

“The forces have been ruthless, but if you are to be trusted on your word, and if the townspeople and the Knights have been spared…” Ah, there it is. That lovely expression of realization dawning upon her mien. “Don’t tell me…”

He smiles and leans forward in a conspiratory manner. “Khaenri’ah is a country for the people, by the people. My countrymen may resent the people who love the Seven, but we know better to misdirect our anger.”

She’s left frozen, staring down at her plate in muted horror.

“We’re only asking for the Archons to help clean up the mess that they stood by on the sidelines for.” He leans back and shrugs. “Again, I’m not asking for your forgiveness. But I don’t want you to get hurt trying to do something foolish out there.”

That seems to melt her frozen stature. “Do something foolish? Like trying to make sure no one gets hurt?”

“There have been no casualties, despite the mayhem that happened.” He stands, picking up his cleared plate. “That, I will not lie to you about.”

She’s silent as he also takes her plate. As he turns around to head to the kitchen sink, a broken sigh has him stopping in place.

“Was everything we went through a lie?” Briony hunches over with a wobbly whisper. “Was it amusing, leading me around like some kind of ignorant dog?”

Diluc said something similar that cold rainy night. Just like Briony had her trembling hands clasped together, his adopted brother had to take his claymore with both hands instead of his usual one hand technique, due to them shaking so much. With anger or sorrow, he doesn’t know.

He’s silent for a moment. It would be all too easy to lie and smile it off, but he knows that would silently close another door that could never be opened again. And he could not have her cut him off, not when he has fallen in love so deeply and ardently. He doesn’t want to be left alone on that cold, dirt road anymore.

“If I said yes, would that make you feel better?” He places the dishes into the sink, the hollow clinks filling the void.

He only gets silence in response, and when he looks over, he flinches. Briony’s tears flow down her cheeks and drip onto the pine wood table. He purses his lips in hesitation before he kneels down to eye level with her.

Lifting her head gently, he stares into her glistening eyes as he wipes away the tears oh so gently with his thumbs. Foreheads pressed together, they both stare into each other's eyes.

“I love you.” The bold declaration opens his heart for only a moment. Glacial ice thawing under her pleading gaze. “And nothing will change that, sweetheart.”

If he could drink up all the despair and sorrow reflecting in those deep forest hues, he would be a staggering drunk outside Cat’s Tail. Is it cruel of him to think that Briony looks her most beautiful now? Broken down and hanging off his every word, she looks like a painting; gleaming tears like shining pearls upon her tawny complexion, dark mossy hair like swirling tree branches framing her face, all for his viewing.

“But I don’t love you.” His heart freezes over at the genuine response.

He smirks.

“It’s a good thing, then, that you don’t have a choice in that matter.” His voice carries no hostility as he abruptly removes his hands from her face, causing her to almost fall forward into air. She splutters as she looks up in dazed confusion.

“Prisoners of war don’t usually get to have a say in how their jail cell or warden is.” He cheekily adds, shrugging on his fur cloak. As he approaches the door, he takes a final look back at Briony sprawled haphazardly while gazing at him with an expression that he prays to be desperation. He closes his eyes and turns away. He’s losing his touch. Not many could get under his skin or the careful facade he wrapped around himself. And yet, she manages to do so without even batting an eye.

“And as your prison warden, you won’t be going anywhere.” He swings open the door with grim determination. Remember why you’re doing this. He had long steeled himself for this when he decided to knock upon Diluc’s door and confess his dark secrets of a mission that could not be heard by unknowing ears.

His Vision sends frigid air frothing around his shoulder and for a moment, he lets the cold envelope him once more.

The click of the door closing behind him syncs with the gongs of the bells in the Favonius Cathedral. How ironic, that the chimes that once brought hope into the hearts of others, Kaeya thinks, now strike fear of those in line for execution.

#yandere genshin #yandere genshin impact #yandere kaeya alberich #my works

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olivia-anderson-fanfic · 8 months

Text

Have you never heard of such a thing, darling?

(The Timari Buzzfeed Unsolved AU)

Chapter 2: The Mysterious Case of Haly’s Circus

The video opens, as always, with Tim sitting on the couch, ramrod straight despite the apparent comfortableness of his cushions, smiling in a way that he knows will set people on edge.

People who have been watching Tim’s channel for a while are suddenly struck with the same feeling that new viewers endure when they open one of his videos for the first time. There is something wrong here, though they can’t quite put their finger on what, exactly, is off.

It is never quite scary. It is hard to be scared of a teenage boy. But it is certainly unsettling.

The reason becomes apparent soon enough: the couch is not pressed to the wall as much as it usually was.

Not that this was an easy thing to realize… until someone pops out of the gap for no reason outside of wanting to be dramatic, smiling widely at the audience.

“I’m back by popular demand!” Marinette says. She leans her arms on the back of the couch. “I’m not sure why I agreed. He doesn’t pay me. I’m being exploited.”

“I literally do pay you.”

“Riiiiight, of course you do,” she says, winking. “Don’t worry, GCPD people watching this, I am well taken care of. There is no fraud going on.”

“I don’t think I like this bit,” Tim mumbles.

“Sucks to suck! I do!”

He huffs. “Why did I invite you along again?”

“Because Alya said that I didn’t complete the bet and you’re lonely?”

“You know, at some point, I’m going to sue you for slander.”

“Public figures can’t really sue for slander!”

Tim’s eyebrows raised. “Is that true?”

“Yeah. It’s why tabloids get away with everything. Probably worth a google.”

He groans and rests his head in his hands. This does not entirely hide the faint smile on his face or the way his shoulders shake with barely restrained laughter. But it’s the effort that counts. Probably.

“Okay. Editor!Me, roll intro.”

The terrible dubstep intro is back, to everyone’s utter dismay. ‘The Gotham Files, with Tim Drake’ bounces around the screen once again, but it ends soon enough, thankfully.

Unfortunately, it is quickly replaced by another intro, complete with a different terrible dubstep song and set of strobe lights, proclaiming that ‘Marinette is also here!!!!!!!!!!’

People who listen closely can hear both of them giggling in the background.

Then, there is a hard cut to the two of them standing outside of what looks to be a run-down carnival. The sign above them declares the place to be Haly’s, but it has long since been graffitied over to say ‘Hell’s’ instead.

Marinette does not seem particularly happy about this change, gripping her new ‘company-provided’ flashlight (Tim gave her a spare he found lying around his house so she wouldn’t drain her phone battery) like it was a lifeline.

Tim pays it no mind, other than a murmur of how cliche it is. He smiles at the camera. “Now, since my intro was so rudely interrupted by Marinette –.”

“Popping out from behind the couch was your idea.”

“– I will explain everything now! We are at the site of Haly’s circus. Twelve years ago, tragedy struck during a seemingly routine circus act. A trapeze line snapped, and John and Mary Grayson fell to their deaths, right in front of their young son.”

There is a moment of silence for the two fallen.

Tim brightens up the moment sixty seconds have finished passing. “And, dear viewers, this particular case is a special one, because I was there when it happened!”

Marinette frowns just slightly.

Tim laughs and waves her off immediately. “I was three, I don’t remember any of it, don’t worry about it.”

She looks somewhat unconvinced, but glances at the camera and decides to drop it. Her concern is wiped from her face like it had never been there at all. She smiles and elbows him in the side. “I guess it’s… a plan to conquer trauma by adding another trauma on top of it. Men would rather visit a haunted theme park than go to therapy.”

He rolls his eyes. “I’m not adding more trauma on top of it, I’m not going to be traumatized. There’s nothing here that can traumatize me.”

“The ghosts are going to make it their mission to prove you wrong, you know.”

“Yeah yeah, my hubris will be my downfall, of this I am aware,” he intones. And then he goes back to addressing the camera. “Now, to this day, people suspect foul play, but police refuse to investigate. Perfect conditions for a possible ghost, don’t you think? So, as always, we are here to solve the mystery of whether the supernatural exists!”

“It does. Can we go home now?”

“Thank you for your investigative journalism,” he says sarcastically, but he slings his arm over her shoulder regardless, pulling her into his side. “Besides, you don’t have to worry. With all the stuff I’ve said to diss them over the years, ghosts – if they were real, which they aren’t – would go for me first.”

“Then could you please let go? I don’t want to be near you when that happens,” she teases.

He huffs a laugh and lifts his arm, allowing her plenty of time to get away. She remains close to his side.

He snickers and lets his arm fall right back into its seemingly perpetual spot around her shoulders. “It’s just an hour.” On cue, bright red numbers appear in the top right corner of the screen, a timer waiting for them to step over the threshold before it could start. “Then we can both leave, yeah?”

“Just an hour,” she mumbles disdainfully.

“Hey, I usually stay overnight. We can do that instead, if you want.”

The video cuts to show… someone, sitting at a desk, in the dark. Their silhouette is rather chunky, it is clear they are draped in one of the biggest, fluffiest blankets known to man. But they are not the focus. No, instead the camera zooms in, to look at the two different computer screens in front of the person. One of them is clearly editing software, and the other is on YouTube. Viewers can see that he is apparently listening to the ChipiChipiChapaChapa song on loop, and has been for at least three hours. Now, though, he finally opens a second tab. The keyboard clacks as they google ‘what time is the sunrise in Gotham’. The mouse circles the time stamp on the bottom of the screen, and the person mumbles under their breath. Apparently doing math, because they edit the timer to say 8:06:45.

The viewers are back to the actual video, where Marinette is laughing.

Tim does not join her.

Her laughter does not quite peter off, but it does gain a slightly nervous edge.

“That’s… a joke right?” she says. “You don’t actually stay in haunted places for hours every time, do you?”

“Well, no, but the only reason I don’t is that there is no such thing as a ‘haunted place’. I do hang out at attractions like this overnight, though.”

“Actually, an hour seems fine.”

The video pauses. Editor!Tim heaves a deep sigh and the clock changes back to its original one-hour-long countdown.

“Also, you’re the most stubborn person I’ve ever met,” Marinette huffs when time returns to normal. They finally step into the carnival together, and the timer starts ticking down. “At least try and pretend like you think ghosts could exist, to make things fair.”

“You think that this place has a house of mirrors somewhere?” he asks. “Because I would like to introduce you to the most stubborn person to exist.”

She huffs. She might have rolled her eyes, but she was too concerned with drinking in every detail of the world around them, searching for anything amiss.

There was a lot amiss about the place, to be fair to her. Old popcorn bags lay forgotten on the ground, abandoned in a rush and trampled under hundreds of feet, their previously bright colors muddied by the elements over the years. What had once been gleaming, colorful rides were now rusting. A family of opossums peers at them suspiciously from behind a couple of molding stuffed animals, their eyes gleaming hauntingly when their flashlights turn on them.

But nothing supernatural.

The longer they go without finding anything of note, the more Marinette relaxes.

She tugs at Tim’s backpack, and he gives her a mildly questioning look, but lets her open it and pull out a spray can of bright red paint.

“How –? When –?”

“A lady never reveals her secrets,” she says, smirking, tossing the can from hand to hand.

“Isn’t that saying supposed to be about – uh – demonitizable things?”

“Probably,” she shrugs. “Not my problem, though.”

“Uh. I think it is, actually,” he laughs. “You’re going to give the viewers the wrong idea about you.”

“Oh no. The supernatural-obsessed, parasocial people in your comment section are going to witch hunt me. Oh nooooooo.”

“You know, they’d probably be happy if they managed to kill you. More things for me to investigate – and with a personal element.”

“They’re just mad because they get no –.”

No one can guess what word is bleeped out here.

He groans, but he is still grinning widely. “Don’t insult my audience and their lack of... dates! You know how important my viewer retention rates are to me!”

She sticks her tongue out at him, slipping out from under his arm and walking over to the nearest contraption. It’s a gravitron, from the looks of things – one of those rides where they spin you around so quickly that you can stick to the walls.

Marinette tugs her shirt up to cover her mouth and nose (Tim quickly shifts the camera upwards at the sight of the barest sliver or midriff with mumbles of ‘demonetization’) and spray paints the words ‘Marinette and Tim were here’.

She looks at it for a moment, seemingly thinking hard, before adding a tiny heart next to their names.

Tim groans. “You’re going to make the shippers freak out.”

Her shirt falls away from her face when she tips her head back in a laugh, and she tosses the can into a nearby trash can. It thumps against something inside, but no pissed-off animals come seeking revenge, so they pay this no mind.

“You can always cut it out in editing.”

“Mmmm trueeeeee,” he says, humming thoughtfully. “But I’d prefer not to. Engagement, you know?”

She gives a little hum of her own before leaning in to press a kiss to his cheek.

His face flushes pink. “What was that for?”

“Engagement.”

He gasps and presses the back of his hand to his forehead, like a Victorian woman who is about to faint over a couch because she happened to catch sight of a collarbone. “Oh of course it’s for the views and not for me,” he pretends to pout.

She grins widely, opening her mouth to respond, but it seems that they are not allowed to enjoy themselves and have fun.

For, in that second, the carnival whirrs to life.

Lights, muted and strangely speckled due to the accumulation of years of grime, shine down on them. The speakers crackle to life, playing songs they hadn’t heard in years. The rides creak as their rusty gears are forced into motion once again.

If you, dear viewer, pay close enough attention, you can see the exact moment the light in their eyes dies.

It coincides pretty well with the lights in the park flicking on.

Hence why paying close attention is vitally important.

Needless to say, the kids are stressed. Probably because the abandoned amusement park does not seem all that abandoned anymore.

“Any chance we tripped a motion sensor somewhere?” Marinette asks.

Tim looks like he has accidentally swallowed a lemon. “Uh… I don’t think that they would still be working after this long…”

“Great! Great. That’s what I thought, too,” Marinette says, her voice squeaking in a way that suggests she does not, in fact, think it is great.

“But – but! There is always an explanation for supernatural phenomena,” Tim says, though he is eyeing the contraption warily. It is hard to tell who he is comforting – Marinette, or himself. Hopefully himself, seeing as he was utterly failing to calm down Marinette. “Noxious fumes causing hallucinations, confirmation bias, a trick done by living people for the sake of monetary gain (a la Scoobert Doo), the wind...”

“You know, at some point this loops around to being in denial,” Marinette mumbles, pressing so close to his side that it starts to look like she is trying to meld with him.

“Shut up,” is all he can manage in retort.

There is a loud bang nearby and the pair of teens scream. Their heads spin on a swivel, and the video is briefly impossible to watch without getting sick. By the time things stabilize, the teens have come up with a solution. Marinette points at the big top, the largest and most instantly recognizable building. It’s the only place that would provide proper cover.

Not that that would do that much good against a ghost, but you have to at least try to survive in situations like these.

“There! C’mon!”

Tim makes a vague sound of protest, but Marinette is already running, and he is dragged along for the ride.

Perhaps that is not the best phrasing, since a kiddie ride they pass screeches off the rails, and they only barely stop in time to avoid getting run over by a roller coaster car.

The ghost is hot on their heels.

Marinette and Tim hop the car, adrenaline fueling them, their feet thudding against the dirt.

Neon lights spark and shatter overhead, raining sparks and gas down upon them.

Marinette’s shirtsleeve catches, and Tim is quick to put it out for her, because she doesn’t even seem to notice, too focused on helping him into the circus tent.

It is as if they have walked into another world. A kinder one, without weird ghosts that are trying to kill them for intruding upon the place they had once died. It is blissfully dark, the only sound their own ragged breathing. After all the bright lights and loud sounds and near murder attempts, it is nice.

Electricity whirrs.

A spotlight blares down on them, briefly, a clear I know you’re here, before it slides away, down to its natural resting position in the middle of the tent.

Now, you may know I am here, too.

A man in a torn circus uniform sits in the spotlight, sobbing into his hands. A tarp lay stretched beneath the long-since broken trapeze, almost mockingly, as if the ghost is making a joke about how easily avoidable their deaths had been, if only they had used a net that night. The dust they had kicked up upon entering catches in the spotlight, making it look as if the air itself is reacting to the ghost, dancing with shimmering lights.

Marinette is physically shaking by this point, her nails digging into Tim’s arm hard enough to draw blood. Tim doesn’t look much better, either, his face an ashy gray color.

Red pools in the sand the ghost kneels in.

“... wait,” Tim breathes.

He moves as if to take a step forward, but Marinette is still holding onto him, and she clearly has no intentions of getting any closer to the ghost.

Tim meets her eyes.

“Trust me.”

She bites her lip, but when he moves again she allows herself to be pulled with him.

They make their way down the steps.

He moves to make his way over the railing and jump down into the sand pit, but the lights flicker and go out.

The hand Marinette has on him is the only thing that stops him from braining himself on the ground. He wouldn’t have died, probably, but it still would have been quite an embarrassing moment to have caught on camera.

When the lights turn back on, Tim sends her a grateful smile.

Marinette doesn’t return it. Her eyes are locked on where the ghost is.

Or, was.

She doesn’t seem much more relieved by the lack of it.

Tim jumps down and helps her come down after him. Slowly, they make their way over to where the ghost had been.

He crouches to squint at the pool of blood. Marinette gags and drags her shirt up to cover her mouth and nose again. Tim looks like he very much wants to do the same, but he has other things he needs to do, first. He rifles through his backpack, his eyes never leaving the ground.

“Tim…” she says, quietly. “We should go.”

He sends her a hesitant smile. “I want a sample of this.”

He pulls out a flashlight and points it out into the darkness provided by the tarp.

There stands the ghost.

Well, it isn’t a ghost. A ghost wouldn’t cringe away from a sudden bright light being shone into their eyes. Nor would it be wearing stage makeup.

The grimy-looking clothes check out, though. A+ for effort on that, that trapeze outfit definitely looks like someone died in it.

The man glances behind himself briefly, as if considering running, before his shoulders slump in clear defeat.

He groans. “What gave it away?”

Tim points at the blood on the ground. “It should be dry by now.”

“It’s –? I’m supposed to be a ghost? The blood being wet is not the most unbelievable part?”

There was a long beat of silence.

“Oh,” says Tim.

The man – Dick Grayson, the sole surviving member of the Flying Graysons – looks like he wants to scream. Which he does, but not in the traditional way: “Jay! Cass! Come out!”

Two people step out into the light, looking just as irritable about the whole situation.

They, too, are wearing ratty clothes.

Oh. Praise revoked. The clothes are not a Choice. They are simply poor.

Marinette groans and slumps into Tim, burying her face in his shoulder as if she can’t bear to see the world anymore. He loops his arm around her, dragging her ever closer.

“Ready to stop believing that ghosts are real, yet?” Tim teases softly.

She groans. Again. Louder. She beats her fist against his chest, but there is no real power or anger behind it.

And then she fixes the three homeless people with a tired look. “I understand why you’re doing this and all… like, the economy sucks, get that bag – or free housing, I guess… but…”

There is a long string of beeps as Marinette lets loose a frankly impressive number of swears. It’s doubly impressive when one remembers that she isn’t even speaking in her first language. Go her. Clearly, she took her English lessons very seriously.

When she finally feels better, she flashes a smile and sticks her hand out for the second guy to shake.

“Hi! I’m Marinette Dupain-Cheng.”

The guy looks confused, but he shakes it.

The video cuts abruptly. The three homeless people are waving them off as Tim and Marinette head back to his car. The viewers would never get to know exactly what was said that day, but it seems they're leaving each other on well-enough terms.

“Sucks that we went through all of that just to not be able to post any of it,” she sighs. “The GCPD would probably arrest them or something.”

“Nah, it’s fine. We can just cut around it and say it was a front for the mafia. The police hate the poor, but they won't mess with organized crime. Because a lot of them are in it.”

“Oh! Great!” she says. Her tone seems to be almost sarcastic. Almost, because why would it be? It is a great plan.

“I’ll keep the real footage on my Patreon, though. My journalistic credibility shall not be marred.” He winks at the camera. “Say hi to the Patreon viewers.”

While she does lift her hand in a vague wave, she does not seem particularly soothed by his words. Perhaps because his ‘journalistic integrity’ was not at all what she had been concerned about.

“Alright, now, we need to convince the nonpaying viewers that we are scared out of our minds because of mafia b.s., so put on your best concerned face.”

Marinette looks at him.

“Perfect! And we’re rolling again!” He turns to address the camera, all wide eyes and frantic hand movements. “Okay, so, it turns out this place is a mafia hideout. Who knew?”

Marinette’s lips begin to twitch into a slight smile at his antics. “Well, I’m going back to France in a few days, so this is not my problem.”

He gasps. “You’re going to leave me here to die?! After all we’ve been through?!”

“Yep.”

Tim looks devastated.

She giggles. “Fine, fine, I’ll stuff you in my backpack and you can come with me.”

He lights back up again instantly. “Ohmygod! We can have The Gotham Files: World Tour!”

“Mmmm, I only live in France,” Marinette points out, which certainly makes the ‘World Tour’ seem less than stellar all of a sudden.

Tim takes it in stride, though. “The Gotham Files: France Tour!”

She rolls her eyes, but her smile is nothing but fond. “Nice save.”

“I know. I’m kind of awesome.”

“And always right!” she adds, in the kind of tone that suggests they’ve joked like this before many times offscreen.

“And always right,” he agrees, nodding along, sage in his always right-ness.

“Except…” Marinette says, smirking. “You were almost convinced about the ghosts for a second there. I think that means that, somewhere, you know the supernatural exists.”

He doesn’t rise to the bait. He shrugs lazily. “I just think that, if ghosts were real and could affect our reality in any meaningful way, white people just wouldn’t exist anymore.”

It is quiet for a solid nine seconds.

Marinette has stopped walking. Tim slows, turns to look at her, mildly concerned.

“Mari –?”

“Fuck, maybe ghosts don’t exist.”

The video ends.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Chapter 3

#maribat #timari #timinette #shutterbug #timmari #tim drake #marinette dupain cheng #ladybug #have you never heard of such a thing darling?

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anotherhumaninthisworld · 1 year

Note

Did desmoulins had any kind of connection with robespierre after he was arrested and during his imprisonment? And danton also did robespierre had any contact with any of them during that time?

Bonus question:

Was desmoulins aware of what robespierre decided on his faith with his partner danton?

For Desmoulins and Robespierre meeting after the arrest of the former there exists one anecdote, and it first appeared in the memoirs of Charlotte Robespierre (1834). I would however declare myself sceptical regarding the authenticity of the story, mainly because it contradicts the confirmed actions of both Desmoulins and especially Robespierre around the same period. I’ve already talked about this at length here, so you can check that out if you want more details.

We have no evidence for Robespierre meeting Danton after the latter’s imprisonment. There does however exist a bunch of anecdotes regarding the two meeting in the weeks right before the arrest, I’ve already compiled all I could lay my hands on here. How many of them actually happened I will leave unsaid…

As for the question if Desmoulins was aware of the role Robespierre played in deciding his fate, that is pretty much confirmed by what he wrote to his wife on April 1, one day after the arrest:

If it was Pitt or Couburg who treated me so harchly, but my colleagues! But Robespierre, who has signed the order for my imprisonment!

I assume it’s most likely Camille was shown the arrest warrant by the guards who came to escort him to the Luxembourg prison and spotted Robespierre’s signature on it.

It would however appear like Camille was unaware of the extent Robespierre was actually involved in the affair. It’s unlikely he knew that Robespierre was the one who had prepared notes for Saint-Just to use for his indictment of the dantonists (I’m not actually sure if anyone outside the Committee of Public Safety knew of the existence of these notes until their publication in 1841). In fact, two pieces actually seem to suggest Camille undermined Robespierre’s involvement. The first is in a post scriptum note added to the first letter he wrote to his wife after his arrest, where he reported the following:

I’m writing to Robespierre, he will respond to you without a doubt.

The second clue is in Camille’s defence, written around the same time in his prison cell, where he attacks several members of the Committee of Public Safety and Committee of General Security but spares Robespierre from any, at one point even accusing David of being a false friend of the latter. Both these texts suggest Camille was still counting on Robespierre and perhaps hoping he could get him out the situation.

Lucile Desmoulins (who we might assume held the same view as her husband on the issue) too seems to have pictured Robespierre as having been forced into condemning Camille by his coworkers (Saint-Just in particular), rather than as the mastermind behind the operation. This is proven through an unfinished letter she wrote Robespierre somewhere between Camille’s arrest on March 31 and her own on April 4:

…As far from the insensibility of your Saint-Just as from his base jealousies, [Camille] recoiled in front if the idea of accusing a college comrade, a companion in arms. […] Robespierre, can you really complete the fatal projects which the vile souls that surround you no doubt have inspired you to? […] Had I been Saint-Just’s wife I would tell him this: the sake of Camille is yours, it’s the sake of all the friends of Robespierre! […] [Camille] was without a doubt slandered near you, Robespierre, for you cannot believe him guilty.

#I wonder if that lucile letter might actually be the origin of the ”innocent robespierre was forced into killing camille by Evil saint-just #bc it’s not like robespierre was a grown adult who could make his own choices…#robespierre #desmoulins #danton #maximilen robespierre #lucile desmoulins #camille desmoulins #georges danton #camille was sort of right about david tho…#ask #frev #french revolution

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thiefbird · 2 years

Note

Hey hey! Hope you're having a great night! How about an Anders x Anyone prompt? “You don’t know what you do to me, do you?” Hope the muse is helpful tonight!

I am, it's good to be back!

Have a cheeky Nanders for your @dadrunkwriting tonight, my friend! With a side of established Sigrun/Velanna

Maker, but they made a pretty picture together, wresting in the dusty training ring. Anders wasn't the only one to have noticed, either; everyone from the scullery maids to Sigrun to even Justice were watching as Cousland and the Howe duked it out.

He did have to assume the Spirit had less... earthly reasons for his interest, though.

The two men separated, panting and grinning, wild-eyed, at each other. Anders made eye contact with Sigrun, cuddled up against Velanna across the ring from where he leaned against a post. The little elf, of course, scowled at him, but he'd learned not to take it personally by now. Sigrun was about the only person she didn't glower at.

His attention switched back to the sparring men, who appeared to now be taking a break for water and discussing tactics. He pushed himself fully upright and hopped the fence, triggering a wolf-whistle from Sigrun.

"Hey, Howe," he called, adding a little wave to catch the older man's attention. He'd been flirting with more intention recently, not just his usual, low-level constant, and Nathaniel had undoubtedly been reciprocating his attentions.

Nathaniel turned at his name, eyebrows raised in question. "Yes, mage? We were about to start again; did you need the Commander?"

Oh, Maker, he was hot. Stripped down to nothing but a pair of sinfully tight, dark leather breeches, skin shining with sweat, he looked good enough to eat. "Oh, no, just thought I'd come wish my favourite archer luck, " he replied, swaying his hips dramatically as he stepped closer.

Nathaniel's lips pursed, but his eyes glittered with amusement. "I am, in fact, the only archer among us Wardens, so that ranking hardly says much about our friendship, now, does it, healer?"

"Oh, but even with another, they'd be hard-pressed to win my favor, " he tossed back with a cheeky wink. "No, your place in my affections is sealed, Howe. Best resign yourself to it!"

Nathaniel rolled his eyes, but chuckled despite himself. "If you are not here to spar, step back, healer. You are a distraction." He gripped Anders' shoulder with one hand, and his waist with the other, spinning him in an easy motion and sending him back to the stands with a gentle shove.

Anders felt his cheeks flush at the manhandling, mind immediately dropping into the gutter, as he stumbled back over to the other Wardens. Sigrun beamed at him, laughing at his flustered expression, and she tugged him to sit between her and Justice.

"Creators, shem, but you are embarrassing. Either bed the man or move on," Velanna complained. "I am tired of watching you two."

"Some of us wish to be wooed, and I am one of them," he responded haughtily. "Excuse me for having standards."

"You fall into bed with a new maid or soldier weekly," Velanna scoffed.

"Not recently." He'd given up his more casual trysts the moment Nathaniel had shown the slightest hint of interest. He still flirted, of course, he wasn't dead, but he hadn't acted on it in weeks.

"Hmmmph," was all Velanna deigned to reply with.

Sigrun elbowed her. "I think it's sweet,Lannan. Our Anders is in love!"

Anders flinched away, completely involuntarily, only playing it up after the fact to disguise the truth of the reaction; he threw himself into the dirt in pretend horror. "Don't slander my guys name like that, Sigrun! I simply realized the second most attractive man in the Vigil was interested in me, and am acting accordingly."

"Let me guess: the most attractive man being you?" Velanna sneered, and Anders winked at her.

"But of course, my lady."

"You're wrong on both counts," Sigrun corrected, as he knew she would; they'd had this argument countless times now. "Aedan is much more attractive than Nathaniel. Or you, sorry sweetie."

Grateful for the change of subject, he let his attention drift back to his Commander and Nathaniel. "You just like beards, Sugrun," he said distractedly.

He hopped up again the moment they called it a draw, trying his best to look casual as he once again approached the shorter man. "Maker, Nate, you don't know what you do to me, do you?" he asked once he got close went for a veneer of privacy.

Nathaniel, already flushed from exertion, turned a deeper shade of red at Anders' words. "I certainly have an idea, with the way you look at me, healer," he muttered, wiping his face dry on a scrap of linen.

"And how do I look at you?"

"The way I look at you. Only I have the sense to wait till the whole Vigil isn't staring."

#dadwc #dadwc prompts #cheeky nanders #nanders #nathanders #anders #nathaniel howe #aedan cousland #sigrun #velanna #justice

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aliypop · 10 months

Text

That's Alright For Such a Night (Rewrite Chapter 6)

Word Count: 3,293

Writers Note: So far I'm enjoying rewriting this, and Now I'm adding and Rewriting my fanfic series Anyway you do into it to really solidify the timeline.

Warning: mostly fluff / Historic Language and Values

Pairing: POC OC x Elvis

Plot: During the Louisiana Hayride two breakout stars meet in a rush only to learn they've dealt their cards in the hands of fate.

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8

Tennessee July 3rd, 1956

"How am I gonna cover this up, my boy."

"Any way you do." Elvis shrugged. Tom was nearly devastated, sitting in his office looking at Elvis like a parent would, "You are already in trouble for dancing like a colored man... Now this!" he slammed the newspaper on the table,

"Lightin' up, Colonel. It was just some fun." Elvis smiled, thinking about all the fun he had that night. He felt like Elvis again, not the Elvis that was available for everyone, but the small-town poor kid from Tupelo who was with the love of his life.

"We were just gettin our kicks," Cecelia said, putting on her pink sling-back heels.

"Some kicks!" Denise shouted, "Cecelia Shanel Valmos! Just on the other side of us in Alabama, there's the bus protest where we're getting beaten and slandered for having this skin color,"

"It's not that serious." she rolled her eyes, "I mean, the bus protest is, but Pres and I.."

"Pres and you doing what. You could lose fans over this."

"You could lose fans over this, Elvis." Tom slammed his fist on the table,

"Already lost 'em with that damn hound dog trick Colonel," he said, pushing his hair back.

"What's so special about him anyways..." Denise asked, sitting back in her chair.

"Mama..." Her mother glared at her when her Southern accent arrived,

"Mother, he's kind and sweet. He's crossing barriers. Maybe I could, too." Cecelia said as she looked love sick, her mother slash manager hating every inch of it,

"The only barriers you could cross is in music."

"Maybe that's what I wanna do," she mumbled,

"And besides, why not Chuck Berry or Little Richard." her mother kept listing artists. Cecelia was picking up a pattern here, but she wouldn't call her mother out on it.

"Mama Little Richard ain't exactly uh... well..a lady's man." she hinted as her mother rolled her eyes, "And besides, El is good people. We're neck and neck on the charts." she smiled, "And we toured together."

"Yeah, neck and neck on the charts with a colored woman who pretends to be you," Tom mentioned as Elvis groaned,

"She ain't pretending to be me. If anything, she's better than me."

"How's that, my boy..."

"Well, she's got stage presence. It's like she commands the crowd, and they listen."

"They do the same to you." Tom rolled his eyes, looking at contracts.

"Yeah, but when she does it... it's I can't explain it..." he sighed. He was lovesick. And he had it so bad it was like a fevering cold.

"She's..."

"Brave, mother, I mean, he goes up there coat tails looks like a butler still manages to look handsome and, Mornin Midge."

"Morning, Cece, talking about Mr. Presley again."

"When is she not." Denise sighed, "Lately, he's all she's got on her tongue." Midge nearly choked at her boss's words,

"Well, uh, You've got some memos and calls, Mrs. Valmos," Midge said as she was walking towards her desk in the office,

"From who?" Denise questioned,

"Frank Sinatra, Ella, Sammy, Dean, Sam," Midge sipped her coffee, "And an Elvis A Presley." she smiled as Denise took the card that had Elvis's number on it,

"Oh no, this is for Ms. Valmos only." Midge took the card from her hand,

"For me..." Midge gave her a nod,

"Tell him I'll call him back."

"Tell him to stop calling the studio so damn much..." Denise rolled her eyes.

"I'll handle it..." Midge smirked,

Cecelia dialed the number on the card. She could hear the phone ring as a lump in her throat appeared. It wasn't like they didn't talk all the time, but Cececlia had never been scared to have someone answer the phone,

"Hello, Elvis, darlin!"

"Who is this..."

"Cecelia Valmos and you are?"

"Mrs. Gladys Presely, his mother." she glared at her son, who was in the kitchen eating a quick lunch, covering the bottom half of the phone. She took a deep breath,

"Elvis Aaron Presley...How many times have I told you stop givin' those wayward girls the family phone number?"

"Mama, I-I..."

"There's one on the phone now, Booby. Says her name is Cecelia Valmos, which can't be right cause the only Valmos I know is the jazz singer and-"

Elvis took the phone from his mother as he cleared his throat from embarrassment.

"I-I uh uhm Cece, Hi!. Hey..." he tried to play it cool as she laughed,

"Hey El, I was, uhm, returning your call. My manager, Uh, well, she hung up on you." Cecelia laughed as she leaned against the wall, trying to act cool as Midge walked by and rolled her eyes, laughing at her.

"Figures... Hey, look, you doing anything tomorrow night,"

"I can't. I'm flying to New York for a performance taping."

"O-oh, I see." he had a tone of despair.

"Why, what's wrong?"

"Nothing."

"El...EP... Pres.. Sugar... Dumplin, Mr. Pretty Blue Eyes, tell me." she said as he blushed,

"Nothing Cece, uh, enjoy New York an bring me back one of them big hot dogs." he laughed.

"Thanks..." she sighed. Something had to be wrong, but what was it.

"You look sad, Booby.." Gladys sighed,

"I'm fine, mama."

"Looks like it's about a girl..." Vernon smirked,

"It seems like it always is with you." Gladys shook her head,

July 4th 1956 Memphis Tennessee, / New York City

The plane ride to New York was relaxing, but all she could think of was why in the world did Elvis sound so upset. Did she say something wrong, or did her mother say something wrong? Laying back in her seat as she was overthinking, Cecelia was rushed to NBC studios and her dressing room.

"Midge," Cecelia called out as she looked at the dresses picked for her to wear. They were all more modest and hardly even danceable, not that she had a problem with modesty, but she was known as the rock n roll pinup. The Risque roller. It was an image she was leaning into.

"What's wrong, Cece."

"It's about Pres," she sighed, dressed in the bright yellow detachable cumberbund skirt dress.

"Oh, tonights the Russwood Park Concert." Cecelia looked at her, confused,

"It's the biggest event in anyone's career," Midge smirked, "Your mother also booked you here so you wouldn't run into Elvis cause of your current scandal..."

"Can we still get back in time before he performs..." Cecelia asked, ignoring her last statement.

"I can arrange something."

After Cecelia performed, she sat in front of Ed Sullivan, in front of an America that didn't resemble her. But here she was on her best behavior.

"Lovely to have the daughter of the Legendary Valmos with us tonight. Tell us how you keep your nails so pretty while playing the guitar."

"A guitar pick and practice." she smiled.

"And those moves. Now I remember seeing you on another show dancing like a... ah, what's his name, the Elvis fellow." he laughed, "Tell me any inspiration from him?"She sighed, knowing what question was coming next, "How's it feel to be compared to him as the lady Elvis... or are you perhaps his lady..." she was asked as she was about to open her mouth.

"I'm joking. You might not even be Elvis's type." Ed laughed, "Since you two are kinda similar," as Cecelia laughed. Cecelia wanted to vomit,

"Actually, he and I are great friends..." she smiled, "We've been on tour from 54 to 55 together, and we learned a lot from each other."

"So when do you plan to settle down."

Thousands of screaming fans flooded the park as the cop cars and escorts drove into Russwood Park. Elvis was trembling like a leaf, with one person on his mind, and she wasn't there. He'd thought about what she'd say or a little joke she'd tell him, but it wasn't the same without her there.

"What are you gonna sing, my boy."

"I'll know it when I feel it." was all he had to say. He was all dressed in black. And he was ready to make a statement. Elvis wanted to be taken seriously. Sure, he was a singer. He was young. Elvis also wasn't a fool. And Elvis wanted his fans to know he wouldn't be some tails-wearing guy who would change for some lousy TV people from New York City. Elvis was a Tupelo, Mississippi, boy. And he was proud of it. And if anyone was looking for trouble, they came to the right place.

"Midge, can you drive any faster!" Cecelia shouted, the two nearly racing down the street in Midge's red Chevrolet Bel Air,

"And get a ticket and end up in jail and dead, fuck no!" she sighed, putting the pedal to the metal. Bobbing and weaving through traffic,

"You did it when we were on tour!"Cecelia smirked,

"Oh, what the hell, let's go!" Midge smirked back,

"You're gonna do great out there, Booby..." Gladys smiled, kissing his cheek,

"Just don't go wigglin a pinky, son," Vernon laughed. Both Gladys and Elvis shook their heads at his joke.

"Come on, come on, come on..." Cecelia sighed. The lines were atrocious, and the security was multiplied by 100. Getting an idea, Midge looked at Cecelia and groaned, "You're not ripping that dress... It's custom-made Dior."

"Don't care..." Detaching her skirt, Cecelia took her shoes off as she began to climb the hot metal gate, hoping security wouldn't notice her and her tree-climbing skills wouldn't fail her now.

"Hey, you in the yellow!"

"Shit..." she mumbled to herself,

"Me..." she pointed to herself.

"Yeah, you!" The guard pointed to her. Cecelia was at the top of the gate. The height from where she was was a tad too high, but either she jumped or missed the performance in total.

"Ain't you that jazz singin' colored woman's kid."

"Yeah, I am..."

"Then get yer ass down here!" Cecelia gulped and jumped. Now, she had to find a way to get closer to the stage. There was a straight line in the middle, but it was also the color barrier, and Cecelia couldn't risk breaking it. Or maybe she could,

Midge grumbled, looking through the gate. She could see Cecelia preparing to make a run for it via the segregation rope God. Did she hope Cecelia would do what she had in mind?

"Godspeed, Cece..."

"Those city folks ain't gonna change me none!" the music began to start, and so did her feet,

"Oh, her mother's gonna kill me." She was on the wrong side of the tracks, running as if her life depended on it. But at the same time, this was her boyfriend. Midge only hoped he'd be there for her the way she was for him. As the performance ended, Cecelia went to find him backstage, running like the flash to get to him, until Cecelia saw a beautiful blonde kissing him. Her heart sank, and suddenly, all she could think of was running towards the studio and recording her feelings.

How do you think I feel?

Well, I know your love's not real

The Boy I'm mad about is just a gadabout

How do you think I feel?

King Creole Premier Hollywood, California July 2nd, 1958

"Elvis, look at the camera!"

"No, look at this one!"

"Elvis over here!"

The crisp California air was no stranger to Mr. Presley, nor were the cameras and interviews. This had been his 4th movie premiere in the span of only 2 years, and the press and women loved him. But there was something still missing, or more like someone still missing. Elvis had taken The Colonel's advice to try to forget about Cecelia. But it was hard, especially since she hadn't talked to him much between her interviews, tours, and films. And he couldn't blame her. She wanted to go on a break with their relationship, but He'd been on numerous dates, some his mother didn't approve of, others that she did approve of too much. But they weren't her.

As he continued walking down the red carpet, he heard and saw the commotion coming from down the carpet. He could smell the scent of Femme de Rochas perfume, making him do a double take on the scent, and he could feel the ground shift from the switch in her walk.

"Cecelia tells about your tour!"

"Ms.Valmos, The Lucile Ball radio show? How's that going?"

"When are you gonna settle down?'

Cecelia had been the talk of every household. And now, on the red carpet, her once long locks of 1956 were now cut into a short bob, similar to Betty Boop. She was in a skin-tight lilac dress with a satin ribbon bow around her waist and black Dior gloves, walking further down as she smiled. Cecelia loved it, but she had to be honest. Cecelia missed Elvis. Sure, things had gotten rocky after Russwood Park, but he was her best friend.

"All the rumors are true," she said with her signature smile. Cecelia had been busy, now finding her footing in Rock n Roll and blues, becoming a heartthrob, and attending rallies with King since her debacle in 56. She was quite the cat's meow. There were still more questions, and she answered them all the best she could. As Cecelia kept walking, Midge saw, some friends of hers that she wanted to say hi to.

"Say there I've never seen you be..."

"Elvis..." her heart was pounding, he was more handsome than she remembered,

"Fore..." Elvis looked at her as she hugged him,

"Look at you and your hair..." he was mesmerized by her new look. Standing before him wasn't the same 21-year-old woman running him out of crowds. No, she was a beautiful bombshell, and he couldn't take his eyes off her when she hugged him. He wanted to hold her forever. He wanted. To apologize for all the stuff he'd done. Elvis wanted her back.

"Pres.." she kissed his cheek, red lipstick lingering,

"Oh, sorry, you probably got a girl now an-"

"Actually, I don't... I-I uh, I came here by myself minus The Colonel." he laughed, "Bet you got a ton of men following you."

Cecelia laughed, "Oh me, nah, came with Midge. You remember Midge, right?"

"Your mama's assistant,"

"Yeah." she blushed, her eyes lost in his own. Something about him in the suit was doing it for her. It was like she was back during the Hayride days, and she had first glanced at him,

"Would you maybe wanna be my date then?"

"Me your date?" she laughed,

"Oh, come on, doll, you know you're still in love with me." he laughed as she looked up at him. This was true, but she'd never admit it, so she'd hoped she wouldn't.

"Where'd you hear that Pres."

"One of those magazines." he laughed, taking her hand and walking into the theater. Midge wasn't too far away, but she gave them space.

Watching Elvis act had been one of her favorite things, especially when it came to his kiss scenes. She'd imagine herself instead of the actresses, which was how her mother caught her accidentally kissing a microphone.

She was on the edge of her seat the entire time, and he was loving every second of it. Raking his arm, he placed it over her shoulder as she leaned closer to him. He had been focused on her the entire time, almost like he wanted to see the world through her eyes, the way that she saw him. He had noticed that when he sang Trouble she was breathlessly mesmerized, in a trance even.

"Hey, Cece..."

"Shush... you're singing," she responded as he chuckled a little. When the movie finally came to an end. There was Cecelia and Elvis walking out together laughing, and joking like they used to do,

"I never asked why you stormed off during Russwood." She felt her heart sink again as she remembered that night.

"You saw me..."

"In bright yellow," he added,

"I had to leave early..."

"Cece..."

"An emergency..."

"Cecelia Shanel Valmos, don't lie to me..."

"I saw you kiss another girl and."

"You thought I was cheating on you..."

"Yeah, I did..." Stepping closer to her, Elvis took her hand on his cheek,

"Doll, I would never hurt you like that... But,"

"The Colonel made you do it." She took his hand away from his face as he nodded,

"Yeah, he did, actually..." Elvis sighed as Cecelia shook her head, "You gotta tell him what you're going to do, who you are, your Elvis Presley, Now Danny Fisher." she poked at him as he smiled, " Most importantly, A man I'd like to kiss again." the last part slipping out of her mouth.

"You wanna kiss me again?" he blushed,

"I wanna kiss Danny Fisher."

"Darlin, I am..."

"Are you, though?" Cecelia said as she winked at him. Elvis tilted her chin up as he leaned in and kissed her sweetly. A bit of need and longing. Her arm was around his neck, the other on his chest. When he pulled away, her knees nearly went weak, and she could hardly stand. "Darlin... I think there's somethin between us and... It's the most alive I've ever felt." Elvis said,

"Pres." She looked at him. "What do we do about this..."

"I don't know, but it's gotta be before September."

"Why's that?" She looked at him,

"Well... I leave for Germany." he sighed, kissing her hand. "Right, the draft." a sad look in her eyes,

"Hey, It's only July. We got time." he grinned, "

Guess we do." she smiled, "So let's make the most of it."

Memphis Tennessee July 4th, 1958,

"Wanna explain who's this girl you're kissin?" Gladys said as Elvis sunk down like a puppy dog. "Who we haven't met yet..." she smiled at him, both hands on her hips as Vernon smirked,

"Cecelia Valmos and it was just a kiss, nothing else." he blushed hard,

"Damn, you're just as red as the carpet," Vernon mentioned, "If you like her all that much... then let us meet her." he shrugged,

"Cecelia, you can't keep compromising yourself." Denise said, she sighed, "We cleaned your image, and now you're kissing him on red carpets!"

"What's so bad about that!"

"You're not of his kind!" she slammed her fist on the table,

"I KNOW THAT, MAMA!" she sighed, "But give him a chance." Cecelia tried to calm down. She took a deep breath."I'm 23 now, and I can make my own decisions."

"Baby, he'll only hurt you, like you know who. Hurt you! she shouted, watching her daughter leave out the door.

"DON'T YOU WALK AWAY FROM ME CECELIA... DAMN IT!"

"Where's she going, Midge,"

"I don't know."

Tears streamed down her face as she drove like a bat out of hell to Graceland. It was late, but she needed to see him. She needed to get away from the madness, away from feeling like a cooped-up songbird in a cage.

"Hold me close, hold me tight," she heard her radio start to play, " Make me thrill with delight." she took a deep breath, "Let me know where I stand from the start." she could see the gates sprinkled with fans waiting, " I want you, I need you, I-I love you..." pulling into the gate, she drove to the front of his house.

"With all my heart..."

"Cecelia..." she ran into his arms as she sobbed, " Won't you please be my own? " she looked up at him. As he wiped her tear-stained cheeks. "Never leave me alone.

'Cause I die every time we're apart..." he focused on her voice,

"I want you, I need you, I-I-I love you...With all my heart"

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