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yeojaa · 4 years

Text

( DEVIL IN A NEW SUIT. )

Money’s something that makes the world go around. There’s absolutely nothing wrong with securing the bag. You don’t shame anyone for doing what they need to do.

That is, until you come face to face with the poor guy that’s being suckered out of both his heart and cash. You simply can’t let it go on.

pairing. jjk x f!reader.

genre + rating. idiots to lovers. fluff, angst, smut. the holy trifecta, babies! explicit, obviously.

tags / warnings. mentions of infidelity, kook being adorable and sad, reader being a bit of a tactless butthole, a satin playsuit (very nsfw), kook does a 180, smut in the form of: a slight oral fixation, too much spit, overstimulation, pussy slapping, unprotected sex (pls don’t be irresponsible).

wc. 12.2k of nonsense. pure nonsense, i tells ya.

beta reader(s). @hobi-gif did what she always does aka read through this and made me a better writer and @yeoldontknow dealt with my big dumbass and let me cry about my pea brain to her. i love you both sm!!! ✨💜

author note. the long-awaited fic is here!! i really hope you enjoy it. if you do, please maybe leave a comment or something? i swung back and forth between loving and hating this so it’d really, really mean a lot. anyway, thanks as always for reading and i adore you! stay safe and happy and healthy!

He’s a sucker. That’s what you think of him, despite the fact you’ve never met him. It’d be impossible not to, given what you’ve heard.

His girlfriend - or something - is in every other week, flashing his black card like she has something to prove. Sometimes, she’s by herself; often, she’s with another gaggle of girls that fawn all over themselves and shriek a little too loudly for your taste. They’re vapid, snooty in a way that makes you cringe every time they step into the boutique. Still, you’re nice because this is your job and you have to be. You can’t exactly tell a paying customer to get lost - even if you think it at least six times each visit.

“He has no idea.” It’s always the same thing, a story that pulls at your heartstrings yet has you scoffing in equal parts. “I told him we were doing a girls’ trip but Hyunjin’s going to meet me on his way back and we’re spending the week at the Ritz.”

How can he possibly be this dumb, you wonder. How can’t he see past the pretty pink lipstick and perfectly coiffed blonde hair? It isn’t even that nice of a colour job - too icy and reminiscent of Malibu Barbie.

(She’d bragged about it once - how she’d gotten an appointment at one of the most coveted salons in the city, spending hours in the stylist’s chair to get this “perfect shade”. Her words, not yours.)

You figure he must be some lonely schmuck, some poor old sap who can’t possibly get what he’s looking for anywhere else. Maybe he had some weird spoiling kink - if so, where was your man like that - or he just wanted companionship and found it in the arms of girls who paid him any sort of attention. Truthfully, you thought a lot of things about him. Kind of had to, given how often his girlfriend was in, rambling about her exploits and snickering behind his back.

You’d never expected him to be like this.

Jeon Jungkook shows up on a Sunday afternoon, shortly after lunch and with the dopiest smile on his face.

Your colleague notices him first, nudging you to attention because you, unlike her, actually do productive things while you’re at work like go through layaways and make sure items aren’t sitting in the back gathering dust.

“He’s cute,” she very poorly whispers, voice carrying because it always does. She’s a younger girl - maybe a few years your junior, who’d gotten her job through pure nepotism - but she’s sweet enough. Zero tact, though. Never notices when she’s being just a little too forceful with her sales but her sweet smile and full rack seem to keep her from getting into any trouble. You consider her a vaguely annoying sister, someone you love even when you don’t necessarily like her.

You glance up from the iPad balanced in your hands, disinterested. “Who?”

There’s an older couple striding past the entrance, hand-in-hand with three Hermes bags. (God, what awful taste.) There’s another couple standing at the mouth of the Louis Vuitton boutique, bickering about which belt will best match the boyfriend’s tux best. (The answer is neither, because those belts do not belong with a classic black tux.)

“Him.”

Yejin all but points him out, jerking her chin in his direction. You don’t know how you hadn’t really clocked him in the first place. Maybe because he’s so unassuming that you’d just brushed over him, noting his outfit before moving on. When you look at him - really look at him - you can’t look away.

You think he’s handsome in that off-kilter kind of way, too-big teeth and too-wide eyes. He’s terribly innocent looking, despite the fact that he’s wearing a gleaming gold Rolex and sleek black boots you recognise from Prada’s 2019 RTW. Everything he wears is tailored, fitting him to the point you wonder who his seamstress is.

But then he speaks, and it’s not the suave, sultry voice you’d expect. It’s featherlight and almost shy, bashful in its delivery.

“I’m here to pick up a bag for my girlfriend?” He upspeaks. It’s stupidly adorable.

Bless her soul, Yejin throws a glance in your direction first. A silent ‘yours or mine?’ that’s answered when you step forward, blindingly bright customer service smile in full effect. “What’s the item and the name it’s under?” You keep in mind he’s said girlfriend very clearly, even as you can’t help but trail your stare over his shoulders, the dimple that digs itself into his cheek when he speaks again.

“Oh, it’s under mine. Jungkook. Jeon Jungkook.”

You’re floored. This is Jeon Jungkook? This specimen draped in leather and fine Japanese silk is the poor idiot wrapped around Barbie’s finger? You’ve got to be kidding.

You wonder whether the surprise is evident on your face. It must be, given how quickly Yejin interrupts, piping up in that saccharine sweet voice of hers. “I’ll grab it! The Box bag in cloud, right?”

Jungkook can only nod dumbly. He has no idea what he’s there to pick up - only that he needs to because his girlfriend is away on a trip with her two best female friends. He tells you as much, chuckling at his own ignorance. It’d be cute if it weren’t so sad, his eyes twinkling like the jewels set in your ears. There’s so much love in his eyes it’s frankly sickening.

It comes before you can help it, snapping off your tongue - an oil spill ready to drag him to the depths of hell.

“Oh - you’re Kiko’s boyfriend? I thought you’d left for Hong Kong already.” Your head tilts - the picture of innocence as you continue to spew things you shouldn’t, staining the innocence of his expression with each word that drops off. “She said she was leaving on Friday.” Even while you’re tearing this poor man’s life apart, you’re racking your brain for the off-handed comments she’d made. “She kept going on and on about how she was so excited to be staying at the Ritz.”

It’s almost like you gain some sick sort of satisfaction in watching his face fall. You’ve never seen someone crumble so quickly, every ounce of affection swept up and spat out in the time it takes you to take a solid, proper breath.

You do feel bad. Not for saying it, but for being the person to do this. For hurting this stranger. (At least he knew?)

“I think you have me mistaken for someone else.” Gone is the sunny friendliness, the blissful geniality. He’s very much uncertain, bunny teeth digging into the full swell of his bottom lip. He’s pigeon-toed and round-shouldered, thick brows drawn neatly over his stare as he focuses on some indeterminate point somewhere by his feet.

If Yejin were on the floor with you, she’d tell you to knock it off. Chastise you for getting involved in something you had no business being in. (She’d be right, but you’ve always been an advocate for tough love.) As it stands, she’s still in the back finding that stupid girl’s bag and you’re here, shaking your head, weakening Jungkook’s resolve with the edge of your teeth. “No, she definitely said she was going away with her boyfriend. Did you maybe give us the wrong name?”

Maybe if he weren’t so upset, he’d be more offended by the insinuation he’s stupid. Instead, he only falters further, head mimicking yours. Poor guy.

“I—I think there’s been a mistake.”

Yeah, you dating that gold-digger, you want to say. Instead, you meet his stare like you haven’t just dug a thousand holes in his foundation. “Oh, maybe. I’m sorry.” The apology is honest, even if the meaning behind it isn’t. That’s a thing, right? Apologising to make someone feel better, even when you don’t necessarily agree with it?

God, you’re an altruist.

“It’s fine.” When he stutters, adorable lisp coming out to play, you know it’s not. You applaud him for his brave face, even if it’s very poorly offered - a makeshift mask you think you could tear off with just another well-aimed word. (You won’t.)

“Here it is!” Yejin’s back, bouncing out from behind the counter with the giant white bag in her hands. If she notices the atmosphere, she says nothing. You remind yourself to tell her good job once Jungkook leaves - and you know he’ll leave the moment he’s got those silk handles in his hand. He looks about ready to cry - or ready to fight, you’re not sure.

Once the purchase is passed over, he nods his head furiously and you swear you see a tear go flying. You don’t have time to ask before he’s hoofing it out of the store.

He doesn’t even notice he’s left his wallet on the counter.

By the time you snatch it up and round the corner, he’s nowhere to be found. Probably because running in stilettos is next to impossible and he’s gotten an embarrassed head start. Well then.

“I guess we’ll have to call him,” you hum, turning the Prada bi-fold over and over in your hands. It’s practically brand new, stuffed with large bills, his driver’s license, and few credit cards, including a Hyundai black card. The same one on file that his girlfriend - maybe soon-to-be ex-girlfriend? - uses shamelessly.

Yejin’s watching you carefully, silently. You’re counting down how long it’ll be until she asks - because you can see the curiosity swimming in her eyes, practically bulging her cheeks with the effort of keeping her questions caged behind her teeth.

Finally, after a good three minutes, she’s at your side, bony point of her chin digging a grave into your shoulder. It’s probably not the most appropriate thing but she’s never much been one for decorum. (You either, but still.)

“So… what was that about?”

You don’t bother to turn when you speak, back to running through order details and matching them with customers. “What?”

“You know— that!” She waves her wrist in a circle, gesturing toward the space Jungkook had occupied not five minutes ago. “He ran out of here like he was scared for his life.”

“Scared of the truth,” you correct.

You hadn’t thought it was possible for her to get more pale - she’s already fine porcelain, perpetually slathered in sunscreen - but she somehow does, balking at your response. There it is.

“What?” There’s a reproachful edge to her words, an uncertainty that tells more than the single syllable.

“What?” It’s mimicry and a challenge all in one, meeting her stare from the corner of your periphery. You can read every emotion that runs through her expression: shock, displeasure, confusion.

She retreats a step, bottom lip caught between her teeth. (She really does remind you of your little sister.) “So, you told him?”

You shrug, a noncommittal gesture that disrupts the curtain of silk that falls over your shoulder. You hadn’t laid it out for him but surely he had an idea now. There was no way he didn’t.

“I pointed out a few conflicting facts. That’s all.” You’re not ashamed about what you’ve done. You’d want to know if you were him. Consider it an act of goodwill.

The silence that meets your ears isn’t surprising but you don’t pay it any further mind. What’s done is done. Now he knows, or something close to it. The chips would simply fall where they were meant to.

You have to admit - you’re rooting for him.

Whatever Yejin’s thinking, she keeps it to herself for the rest of the shift. She knows better than to berate you about something like this, not that she would anyway. Obnoxious as she can be, you have an understanding. It strengthens your not-quite-close-friends-but-more-than-colleagues relationship.

It’s only at the end of your shift that she brings it up again, drifting over to you as you complete your cash count for the evening.

She holds Jungkook’s wallet in her hand, mouth pursed thoughtfully as she taps it against the edge of the counter. “You have to call him.”

You almost lose your count, finishing with a pinched expression. “Whoever works tomorrow morning can call him.” You’re not brushing off the responsibility - you really could care less - but simply passing it along to the next person. Sensible.

As it turns out, you’re the person who works the next morning, called in because another associate has come down with a cold.

You’re two lattes deep when you remember the wallet, tucked neatly behind the counter with a yellow sticky note posted to the front. You suppose it’s your responsibility now. You know if Yejin comes in tomorrow and sees it, she’ll give you her childish brand of hell.

The line rings twice before it picks up, that oddly familiar voice crackling through the speaker. “Hello?”

“Jungkook?”

There’s a beat of silence followed by a careful confirmation. “Yes, that’s me?” Upspeaking again. How cute.

“I’m calling from the CELINE boutique.” You can practically imagine the look on his face, eyes as wide as saucers as he recalls the awful-to-him encounter. “You left your wallet here and I wanted to make sure you got it back.”

“O-oh, uh—“ It’s like encountering a baby bunny - or deer or something equally adorable and vulnerable. “Thanks. I didn’t even notice. Um, I can come pick it up today?” There’s another pause, the sound of fingers over a screen, and then he’s back. “Is that okay?”

Leave it to him to have lost his wallet and yet be worried about putting someone else out. He truly was a sucker.

“That’s fine. We’re open until six tonight.”

“I’ll be there before dinner.” As if realizing how vague that is, he continues, words running headlong into each other like he can’t get them out fast enough. “Before six, I mean. Um, is around five-thirty okay?”

You want to tell him to just come whenever, that it really doesn’t matter to you, but that probably isn’t going to help the situation. Instead, you hum a quiet sound of confirmation. “Of course. We’ll see you then.”

He hangs up immediately.

The second time you meet Jeon Jungkook, he’s just as endearing as the last. It’s actually surprising, if you’re being honest. You’d thought he’d be resentful or mean or any other emotion better fitting someone whose entire world had turned upside-down.

As it stands, he’s just the right-side of anxious, a hundred little sparks of uncertainty flaring beneath his skin and lighting him up in neon. You can see him from a mile away he’s lit up so bright, seemingly uncomfortable in his own skin.

Your heart aches for him - and then it skips, almost trips over its own two feet when he wanders into the store with his hands dug deep into the pocket of his pants.

How he looks tonight is nothing like how he’d looked yesterday. Somehow, you like it more. The undone head-to-toe Balenciaga, the unruly curl of his dark hair. It’s effortlessly chic - though you think it might have something to do with the fact that he’s just an attractive person. (Good-looking people could get away with anything - even god-awful fashion faux pas.)

At the sight of you, he seems to further lose steam, eyes widening to such an extent you briefly worry for him. Surely they’ll fall out of their sockets one day.

“O-oh. It’s you.” The moment the words come, he’s blushing the colour of your red-soled shoes, horrified. “I m-mean, just—” He takes a deep breath, finds his footing and tries again. “You’re the girl that helped me yesterday.” Spoken like you, the exact girl who helped him yesterday, wouldn’t remember that fact yourself.

“That’s right,” you say evenly, expression neutral. It’s almost as if that surprises him more - as if he’d expected you to shy away from the knowledge.

The two of you stare at each other for longer than is strictly speaking necessary. Well, you stare at him and he kind of bounces his eyes around the room. You know he can’t be that interested in the croc stamp Belt bag behind your head or the selection of small leather goods in the glass case.

He’s so awkward.

(You did kind of ruin his day though, so you can’t blame him.)

“So, um, my wallet?” He’s made barely any headway, still lingering awkwardly by the front of the store. You can’t help your smile - it’s more of a smirk - as you raise the item in question.

“Right here.”

Jungkook glances from it to your face, then back again. He makes the same trip twice more. “Can I have it?” To your surprise, he’s taken two whole steps toward you, brow furrowed. He’s still terribly soft, rounded edges and innocent eyes, but he’s making progress. Good job, you think.

“Of course.” You mirror him, moving out from behind the counter. Somehow, that’s not the right move, because his features are breaking and rearranging, big bunny teeth worrying a hole straight through his bottom lip. You’d think he’d be more confident, more demanding, more… everything. (You quite like that he isn’t - a complete anomaly - but you also imagine it’s also to his detriment. Too much honey, not enough vinegar.)

This time, he closes the distance with three long strides. It hadn’t escaped you how tall he was, the length of his gait - after all, you’d tried to run after him - but you’re still a little surprised when he’s in front of you, not a foot away, arm extended. Palm out, he asks again, all while refusing eye contact. “May I have it, please?”

You hand it over with a soft laugh, pressing the grained leather into his hand. You expect him to retreat immediately and he does - but then he turns and his expression is inscrutable. Is he going to say thank you? Berate you for what you’d done yesterday?

Neither, it seems. “Why did you do it?” There’s no anger, just an abiding sadness that laces his words, turns them the saddest shade of blue.

“Do it?” You know what he means. You ask anyway.

“Why did you tell me?” Jungkook’s doing that thing again, alternating between biting his tongue and chewing his cheek as he stares at you. You can practically see the melancholy rolling off him; it shines dark on the depths of his irises, how his fist trembles just barely at his side. For all his good looks and leisurely charm, you can see the effort it takes to hold himself together now.

Guilt ascends, starts somewhere deep in your stomach and turns stomach acid to butterflies. It creeps higher and higher over your spine, locking each vertebrae until you’re immobile, unable to tear your gaze from his. “I thought you deserved to know.”

“But why?”

“What do you mean?”

It’s almost comical, how both your expressions descend into bewilderment - like looking into a fun house mirror. He’s trying to wrap his mind around your actions and you’re just trying to make sense of his confusion.

You anticipate a response - can see it tittering on the tip of his tongue - but he seems to think better of it, shaking his head. It dislodges a wayward curl from behind his ear, silver twinkling with the movement.

“Thank you” is all he offers before speed-walking away.

You don’t expect to see Jeon Jungkook for a third time.

He’s waiting for you when you end your shift on Thursday, standing somewhere between the two boutiques, loitering like some kind of gremlin. (Except he’s dressed exceptionally well, slick black jeans and a Balenciaga tee shirt that rivals the cost of your shoes. Of course he’d get away with hanging out in the store without being told off.)

“Excuse me.” For once, he doesn’t sutter. The lisp doesn’t present itself, either. Was this the same Jungkook? You’re not sure until you meet his stare - or try, his own skipping away the moment you make contact.

There he is.

“Yes, Jungkook?” He flinches, as if he isn’t expecting you to know or say his name. How can someone so big, so broad across the shoulders with a face that belongs on billboards, look like such a terrified rabbit? It makes no sense to you.

“Can we talk?” The stare he levels you with is unfair, too sweet and coaxing for you to even consider saying no. You’ll still mess with him a bit though.

“We are talking.”

He sputters at that, hacks out a cough that makes you snicker openly. It’s just so easy with him, like taking candy from a baby.

“I mean like— talk talk.” The set of his jaw gives away the whisper of frustration, the fleeting touch of exasperation that doesn’t allow itself to live anywhere else. His eyes are still soft, round and glossy beneath the fluorescent storelight.

“Sure, we can talk talk.”

“Did you, um, want to grab dinner?”

You don’t mean to mock him (at least, not really) but he just makes everything so easy. You hope he doesn’t take it the wrong way. “Are you asking me on a date?”

“W-what? No!” Despite the immediacy of his response - the look of utter shock that cracks the careful facade - he’s burning bright, cheeks aflame with colour that licks up and over his ears. “I just— I thought you’d want to talk somewhere else—”

“I’m kidding. Let’s go.”

You move first, stepping past him and onto the elevator without a backwards glance. He scampers after you, trails like a lost puppy in the wake of your shadow. Even while you stand in the corner, waiting for the lift to meet the main floor, he keeps a careful distance, hands jammed into the pockets of his jeans.

“So, what do you want to talk about?” It seems you have to take the initiative, throwing him a curious stare as the floor number ticks down. His gaze is trained on neon digits, unmoving. You repeat yourself, glancing up at him, half-tempted to nudge him out of his reverie. It’s almost like talking to a really hot brick wall. “Jungkook?”

He tears out of his thoughts like a wayward bullet, head swivelling wildly. “Huh?”

“What did you want to talk about?”

“Um—” He hesitates, not as if he doesn’t know the answer, but rather that he’s hesitant to speak it into existence. There’s a tidal wave in the depth of his stare, a cresting wave that looks on the edge of breaking. “—m-me?”

Brows furrow then amusement spills out. “You want to talk about… you?”

“That sounds bad.” The shape of his grow prominent over his bottom lip, his mouth pulling and pursing with whatever maelstrom exists inside that pretty skull of his.

“It’s fine. We’ll talk at dinner.”

He nods. You think it means thank you.

Sitting across from each other in the Michelin-starred restaurant - a sought after spot that takes reservations weeks in advance - it’s easy to imagine Jungkook is just another guy. Another bachelor with too much money and not enough sense, eager to sink his teeth into his next victim.

It’s hilarious how far that is from the truth.

“What did you want to eat?” He’s speaking into the pages of the leatherbound menu, half his face hidden. Whether it’s a defense mechanism or just how he woos pretty girls, you’re not sure. (You have a feeling it’s the former.)

“Whatever.” Everything here is incredible. You really don’t mind.

Jungkook’s face falls, folds in on itself like wet paper and you sigh a sound that further breaks apart the pillars keeping his composure in place. His right cheek is hollowed, interior being shredded by enamel. You take pity on him then, flipping open the menu with a great flourish.

When the waitress - a lovely little thing whose gaze lingers on your dining partner for too long to just be polite - comes to take your order, you rattle off your usual order, doubling certain selections. Soft-spoken as he might be, you have a feeling the size of his stomach makes up for all the mumbling and half-hearted glances.

“So?” You level him with a stare over the rim of your glass, lavender and lemonade bursting across your tongue.

He echoes you, wide-eyed and Bambi-like and stupidly cute. “So?”

“What did you want to talk about?” If you’d had a worse day, if you were a lesser person, you might be irritated by having to repeat yourself so often. As it stands, you’re only curious, your inquisitive nature outweighing your naturally short temper.

“Oh.” Poor boy looks like he’s been asked an impossible question, like what’s the meaning of life or the secret to eternal youth. He fumbles with the edge of his sleeve, turns the plaid over and over in his fingers as if it were a puzzle. You stare at him the whole time, unflinching, unrelenting. He’d asked you here so you damn well expect an answer.

You’re about ready to repeat yourself - fourth time’s the charm? - when he finally finds his voice.

“I wanted to say thank you.”

It’s not the answer you’d expected. It whacks you in the face, smacking your usual confidence out of place and shooting your carefully threaded eyebrows into your hairline. “What?”

He’s terribly uncomfortable, unhappy with being on the spot. You watch the flicker of emotions through his face, the ones that creep into the delicate skin beneath his eyes, the wobble of his bottom lip. Try as he might, he can’t keep the light from his eyes - twinkling stars that bloom like newly minted stars.

“Thank you.” It’s just that much harder when he repeats himself, edges he builds with his bare hands and a clearing of his throat.

You’re silent for a long while - long enough for the first few plates to be set before you. You gather up shredded radish and perfectly charred beef with your chopsticks, chewing thoughtfully on the morsel. Jungkook doesn’t move - doesn’t even reach for his chopsticks - and simply stares at you. You might find it off-putting if it were anyone but him.

You get through half the bowl of green beans, well on your way to finishing it, when he finally begins eating, deftly transferring little bites to his bowl.

The only sound is crunching - king oyster mushroom tempura, ice from your cocktail - and you’re pleasantly surprised to find it’s not uncomfortable. A little different, sure, but altogether nice. Like dining with an old friend.

You finally answer when half the plates are gone, another three laid out in their wake. You’re careful not to speak with your mouth open - you notice Jungkook doesn’t either - and take a long sip of your water. “You’re welcome, I guess.”

Something tells you you’re always surprising him - whether intentionally or not. His eyebrows have a tendency to shoot up, making him look even more shocked than he normally does. (Seriously, how big are his eyes?) You find that funny but don’t comment on it, opting to pop a silken piece of black cod into your mouth. Your stare never falters, trained on his face as you chew thoughtfully.

“What?” He’s had enough of your quiet observation, apples of his cheeks reminiscent of the tree in your parents’ backyard.

“What?” You parrot back, shameless, dark eyes twinkling at him.

“Y-you’re staring at me.”

“You’re sitting in front of me.”

The line of his mouth hardens then, tongue rolling against his cheek in a gesture that stands out. It’s the first glimpse of something rude, something not doe-eyed and innocent. Oh?

“You don’t have to stare.” Said with a speared piece of sashimi, the end of his chopsticks assaulting the poor piece of bluefin tuna like it has personally offended him.

You reach for the same place, knock ornate wood against his, and quirk a brow when he meets your stare. “Does it bother you, Mr. Jeon?” The inflection is drawn out, almost mocking, only softened by the smile you offer.

“That’s not my name.” The bite disappears past his teeth. You expect him to continue three chews later but he only goes for another, filling his plate and then his mouth.

“Sorry— Jungkook. Does my staring bother you?”

It feels a little like playing with fire - holding your hand too close to a flickering flame, curious what it’ll do. Juvenile in a way but enticing in another. You’ve never met anyone quite like Jeon Jungkook.

“It’s rude,” he reasons, glossy eyes meeting yours for perhaps the fifth time that evening.

“Maybe I’m just rude.”

He shakes his head then - dislodges untamed strands from behind his silver-lined ears - and sets his chopsticks down. (Perfectly matched up, propped against the provided rest.) “You’re not.”

You can’t keep the surprise away, the emotion threading through your brows to tie them into a little knot of consternation. He says it so readily, as if he knows you and this isn’t one of a handful of very short, very unexpected conversations. He’s not even looking away, meeting your stare with a confidence that surprises you.

It lasts for all of five more seconds before he clears his throat and sips at his tea. Anything to busy his hands, you think.

“You don’t know that,” you finally return, after what seems like too long.

“I do.” He nods - almost to himself - and continues, matter-of-fact. “You care about people. You’re… hard around the edges but you don’t mean to hurt anyone. You want to do what’s right. Sometimes it means you have to do things that aren’t easy.”

For once, you’re at a loss for words. Really and truly silenced, unable to articulate anything that might beat back the kindness he’s offering.

How the tables have turned.

He likes waffles with chocolate syrup rather than honey. He doesn’t like whipped cream or citrus-flavoured desserts. He has a tailor he’s gone to since he was a child, the same elderly woman he sometimes calls halmoni because she’s watched him grow up. He decorates his apartment with the most random things: limited edition KAWs figurines and the guitars he still hasn’t had the most practice with, one of a kind paintings from the gallery one of his best friends curates. He buys the most expensive bottles of wine at any given restaurant not because his palate is so evolved it matters, but because it’s what he’s been taught to do.

He’s been in four serious relationships in his twenty-five years. All of them have ended poorly, though his latest with Malibu Barbie is the first where he’d been cheated on. (Somehow, you doubt that but you don’t voice this disbelief.) He tends to lean towards long-term relationships with women who baby him (your words, not his). He scoffs when you call him a serial monogamist, insists he isn’t even as you list out all the facts pointing otherwise.

“I just… don’t like wasting my time,” he insists from behind his coffee cup.

“You mean you don’t like the potential to be hurt.”

Jungkook blinks at you then, Bambi eyes so big and bright you almost want to laugh. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.” He seems confused - as if his reasoning is solid, irrefutable.

“High risk, high reward, Jungkookie.” It’s something your father had taught you years ago, the crazy old sap. It’s probably why he’s had three divorces since you were seven years old, but you suppose it’s worked out for him now. He’s been happily married for the last ten years - the longest relationship he’s ever had. Youngin is good for him, though. You like her - even if you sometimes wish she weren’t young enough to be your older sister and not his wife.

“You say that a lot.”

“I mean it when I say it.”

He’s quiet then, shoving a corner of his croissant past his lips. When he speaks - starts to, anyway - his mouth is still full and you level him with a look that silences him until all traces of the pastry are gone. “Girls are scary.”

You laugh. Cackle, really. You can’t help it. He says it with a pout, the expression so utterly at odds with the offensively revealing shirt he wears, the smooth unblemished skin of his chest almost too much for such a quiet afternoon. He glares at you across the table, shoves another piece of the flaky golden treat into his mouth, and waits for you to speak. He knows you’re going to give him a piece of your mind because you always do, rebuffing 99% of the things he says. (Sometimes for fun, often with good intentions.)

“Heights are scary. Death is scary. Leaving your wallet at home when you’re low on gas is scary—”

“Don’t you have Apple Pa—”

“Don’t interrupt.” He clamps his lips shut, folding his arms across his chest. From anyone else, it’d be a defensive gesture; from him, it’s patient. “Girls aren’t scary. Having real feelings for people is scary, but that doesn’t mean you should just stay with people who don’t deserve you.”

“Not all of us have cheater-sniffing noses.”

You suppose he’s right but the fact still remains that he’s too nice for his own good. Too trusting, too lenient, too blind to all the red flags. Like he’s living life in greyscale.

“Well, that’s what you have me for.”

The look Jungkook gives you then is incredulous, screwing his pretty face up as if he’s about to sneeze. Instead, he laughs. “I’m not hopeless.”

“Oh, but you are.” You’re adamant, insistent. He’s more comfortable with you now - sometimes teases you in a way you’d never have expected weeks ago - but he’s still so soft. An absolute marshmallow dressed in designer duds, a heart of gold wrapped up in a bubble gum package.

You want to protect him, teach him to fly. Be his wingwoman until he’s soaring the skies on his own.

You know it’s not his pride that keeps him from saying yes. He doesn’t have an abundance of that, far too gracious to ever deny help when he really needs it. He’s just shy, doesn’t know what he wants until it’s staring him right in the face.

“Fine,” he agrees after you’ve stared at him for too long. It’s one of his weaknesses - his inability to handle attention when it’s laser-focused. It makes him sweat, prompts his nervous habit of chewing at his bottom lip, long fingers picking at the peach fuzz on his cheeks.

“You won’t regret it.”

Jeon Jungkook has gone on six dates over the last ten days. You know, because you’ve helped him pick out outfits for each of them, seated at the edge of his bed with your knees folded and a bag of white cheddar popcorn in your grubby little paws.

It’s not that he isn’t stylish - you both know he is - but there’s a certain finesse to dressing for dates, to knowing the likes and dislikes of your potential partner and playing to those.

He, to no one's surprise, does not have this finesse. If it were up to him, he’d wear his favourite clothes every day, different jeans and joggers in medium-wash denim and impossibly soft cotton. He’d swap his Balenciaga separates in and out and stick with the finely tailored Gucci suit he calls his lucky ticket (ew). He’d live in those stupid two-toned sneakers and barely do his hair, allowing it to become a powder puff reminiscent of old Hollywood movies.

The girls would probably still love it. (It’s easy to love him.)

“What do you think?” It’s low-cut black, relaxed in the shoulders and flattering in the torso. It holds him just right, hugging the muscle that threads across his shoulders like armour, coils around his upper arms and makes his tattoos stand in stark relief where the sleeves end, mid-forearm.

It looks good— but then again, a lot of things look good on him. He wants great.

You answer honestly, because that’s what you do and that’s what he has you there for. To knock him down when his (admittedly small) ego gets a little too big, remind him of his hubris like the summer sun upon his candle wax wings. “Not bad…”

You don’t even need to finish the thought for him to be tugging the shirt over his head, back flexed, ink-strewn fingers gripping the hem.

Not for the first time, you’re reminded of just how unfair life is.

How had Jungkook - bona fide dork, certifiable shy guy - been gifted one of the best bodies in human existence? (You wish you were joking.) It was utterly absurd, a complete waste on someone who’d only learnt to utilise his good looks in the last five months you’d known him.

“This one?” He’s grabbing another hanger, all but thrusting it into your face. Medium-weight cashmere. Probably too hot for a night like tonight but you’ve seen it on him before and it hugs him like a lover, displaying his best assets (titties) and drawing attention to the narrow shape of his waist. It’s the equivalent of a little black dress.

“Look at you go,” you tease, mouth full of mirth and popcorn kernels. “Throw that Juun.J trench you have overtop and you’ll be set.”

Jungkook nods sagely, as if your word is law. You suppose it is.

“Thanks, ____,.” He says it in that sweet way of his, eyes lost to the weight of his gratitude.

Your response is a shrug. “Bring me back some dessert and we’ll be even.” You don’t know where he’s going tonight but you figure it’s one of the many restaurants you’d recommended earlier in the week when he’d started lining up his various dates. You know there’ll be something good on the menu.

He promises he will as he slides the turtleneck on, tucking it into the dark trousers he’d picked up days ago, and redoes the slim black Rag & Bone belt around his waist. You have to admit - you’ve done another great job of styling him. Simple yet painstakingly attractive, playing at all the little bits of Jungkook’s best qualities without outlining them in bright red ink. Understated but elegant, effortless yet seriously hot.

Maybe you should quit your day job and become the female Hitch. That was a viable plan, right?

You’re mulling it over when you realise your walking Ken doll is making toward his bedroom door, wallet clasped in one hand and phone in the other. “Hey! You’re leaving already?” It’s polite surprise that colours your words, stare drawn to the screen of your iPhone. It’s only 6 PM and the reservation isn’t for another hour.

There’s a sheepish look creeping over his features, painting itself in delicate strokes that you spy past the line of his smile, how the skin crinkles around his eyes. For a moment, he’s the shy Jungkook you’d met in your store and not the one that now bleeds careful confidence, filling his little black book (read: phone contacts) with names as easily as he breathes. “I was, uh, going to stop and get f-flowers.” A silver-lined hand scrubs across his nape, dislodges the carefully styled waves he’s settled for.

Flowers, huh? Well, that’s certainly something new. Good for him, you think.

“Jeon Jungkook, going all out.” It’s heavy on the teasing, playful mockery lending a warmth to your words. “She’s special.”

Which you’d figured, given he was seeing her. Repeats were rare for him now that he’d learned how to weed out the bad seeds, held his hand a little closer to his heart (at least, sometimes). Since he’d started dating again, this would be the first time he’d be going on a second date. It’s a big deal.

“Yeah—“ Nervousness sparks across his face, lights up his stare like the stars in the night sky. “I guess she is.”

You smile fondly, like a proud mother. “Go get ‘em, tiger.”

“I will,” he promises, looking so giddy it makes your heart swell ten sizes.

You don’t even think anything of it as you follow him out of his room, bag of popcorn neatly rolled under your arm and your socks slid back into place. It’s only when he levels you with a strange stare, pauses in the shrugging on of his coat, that you return his look. “What?”

“Where are you going?”

“Leaving?”

“Why?”

Wasn’t that the million dollar question?

You don’t normally leave, usually waiting here at home for him until he returns to give you a rundown of his date (and the promised appetizer/dessert/whatever). It feels somehow wrong to stay, though, as if you’re taking up space that doesn’t belong to you. He’s going on a second date, after all. Soon enough, he won’t need your help picking out clothes or deciding on a restaurant. You won’t get to curl up on your usual corner of his sectional, wrapped up in the obnoxiously soft blanket you’d convinced him to buy one night while online shopping.

But it’s fine. Totally, one hundred and ten percent fine. The two of you are friends. You’d always expected - anticipated, hoped - this day would come. Baby boy was growing up.

“Y’know.” You answer a second too late and he’s still wearing that odd expression, handsome face flooded with something that looks like disappointment. It flickers in the bits of his stare you can make out past his fringe, partially concealed by the dark silk that you know feels as soft as it looks.

“I know?” He never tries to read your mind - knows it’s utterly useless.

You wiggle your hand dismissively. “Second date and all that.”

Jungkook giggles - the same deceptively sweet sound he always makes - and finishes tugging his jacket on. It fits him so well it should be illegal, falling to his knees and ending just shy of the intricate laces of his boots. “Just stick around. I’ll drive you home when I get back.”

It’s something he always does - his way of saying thank you for putting up with all of his first date jitters, his outfit changes, his worrying over how to first approach a girl on Tinder - so you don’t doubt him. “Fine. I’ll stay.”

He beams, caught halfway out the door. “Tell me to break a leg.”

“Go break her back,” you retort to the sound of his laughter.

You’re almost asleep when your phone starts going off, the vibrations jolting you awake. It rattles across the glass table, won’t shut the hell up until you’re slamming your hand atop it, glaring at the screen as it lights up with notifications.

It’s almost 2 AM and they’re from Jungkook. This can only mean one thing.

from jeon jungkook: Hey. from jeon jungkook: I’m really sorry but I won’t be home tonight. from jeon jungkook: If you want to stay over, I can drive you back in the morning. from jeon jungkook: Please don’t be mad.

Leave it to him to apologise for getting his dick wet - to feel bad about having a successful second date. It makes you laugh as you stare down at the texts, tap a quick response you know will have his heart racing. (Even after months of friendship, it’s hard not to tease him just a little bit.)

to jeon jungkook: i officially hate you

The typing notification gives him away immediately, but the moment you do the same, he stops. Of course. He hates confrontation - would rather leap off a cliff-face than deal with negative emotions. (He’d told you that once, over a night of beer and fried tteok.)

to jeon jungkook: it’s fine! have fun! to jeon jungkook: turn her world upside down 😏

He doesn’t answer after that but the read receipt pops up. Good, you think. About time he finds someone nice. You wonder what she’ll be like when you meet her.

Jungkook’s third date comes with another third - you.

He drags you along to dinner, insisting there’s nothing at all weird about the fact. He has to repeat it at least four times during the drive there, head nodding like a plastic bobblehead as he weaves in and out of traffic.

“I want you to meet her,” he mumbles, like that makes it better. As if bringing a friend along to a date with that reasoning means it’s totally acceptable and not on the list of Hard No’s When Dating.

“Don’t you think that’s kind of weird?” He’s too focused on changing lanes to answer you, signalling before seamlessly drifting over. (He’s an impressively responsible driver, but that’s unsurprising.) You repeat yourself.

“It’s not… weird.” But you have a feeling that he knows how odd the request is. Knows and doesn’t care, unfortunately. “She wants to meet you too.”

(When had Jungkook turned into this person who argued with you?)

You somehow highly doubt that. No girl in her right mind would leap at the chance to meet her potential beau’s wingwoman. It’s something reserved for official status, when the foundation is set. Still, you play into his hand, level him with a stare he should recognise. It’s the one you throw his way any time he’s too nice, gives a mile when he shouldn’t even offer an inch. (It doesn’t come as often anymore, but it still makes appearances once in a while.)

“What does she even know about me?”

“That we’re friends.” His vague response speaks volumes. The look changes - grows into a glare that has him furtively peeking at you from the corner of his periphery. When he speaks, it feels like a dead giveaway. “That I really value your opinion.”

You groan, a noise so loud it rattles around in the car and interrupts the ballad playing through the speakers.

“She’s trying to figure out if I’m competition or not!” Of course. It’s obvious. She wants to know what she’s getting into it before things get too serious, determine if her Prince Charming is really all that. (He is.) “I’m not coming to dinner.”

“You’re already in the car,” he reasons.

You note he doesn’t deny your first statement, mouth rounding into a pout that should crush your resolve. Instead, it drives you mad, irritation bubbling in your throat.

“I just won’t go in.”

��____,.” When he says it like that, it’s hard to deny him. Jungkook might not utilise his charms often but when he does, it’s lethal. Undeniable with those dumb Bambi eyes of his.

“No.”

“____,,” he repeats, almost pleading. You can’t look at him. You won’t. The moment you do, you’ll be sucked into the swirling vortex that makes up his stare - a million pretty little lights caught in the brown of his iris, so many possibilities you’d lose yourself trying to explore them all.

You last a whole ten seconds before his staring becomes too much, those round eyes tracking you in the rearview mirror until you’re relenting, softening in the way that only he can cause.

“Fine.” You hate how it sounds rolling off your tongue, terse and a little pissed off. You’re not actually mad. Just worried. You’ve seen situations like this play out - not that you’ve been in this position before - but female friends and potential girlfriends just don’t go hand-in-hand. It takes a very special kind of person to facilitate a meeting this early and you are not that person. You’re ragged edges, uneven temperament, distrust that you can’t help.

Jungkook knows that. Should, anyway. You’ve grown close over the last nearly half a year.

When he mumbles a quiet sorry, turns to rest his chin against his knuckles as he drives, you know he means it. He’d never put you in this position if it didn’t mean a lot to him - if his own happiness wasn’t somehow also on the line. (Truthfully, it’s your fault. All that self-love encouragement was coming back to bite you in the ass.)

You grumble an obligatory acceptance as the streetlights fly by. You’ve got a reputation to uphold.

“You’re paying for my dinner.”

“Of course.”

How many times have you pictured this same situation, watched it unfold on your television screen as the protagonist gasps wildly, hand at their throat? How many times have you laughed at the exchange, snickering into your palm as the romantic interest makes some wild declaration of love and wins the protagonist’s heart?

Answer: you’ve lost count.

Still, it doesn’t prepare you to be thrust beneath the spotlight, half-dreaming and terribly confused.

“What’re you doing here?” At any other time, it might be as reproachful as you want, full of disapproval and sleepiness. Here and now, it’s slurred speech and the lines of your pillow dug into the softness of your cheek, lashes dusted with sleep and breath freshly minted.

Jungkook’s oddly surprised, considering he’s appeared unannounced at your doorstep at the crack of dawn (not really). “C-can I come in?”

You don’t budge. It’s not because you’re about to say no, but because you’re still really tired. So tired you stare at him for a moment too long, zoning out as you drink in his appearance. He’s wearing the clothes from last night - the same animal-print silk shirt that hangs obscenely low and reveals too much skin. You recognise it because you’d picked it out for his date.

(The one where he was supposed to ask Jiwon to be his girlfriend, you fail to note.)

You repeat yourself around a yawn, ignoring the way your vowels crash into each other and barely make it to the light of day. “What’re you doing, Jungkookie?”

“Please let me in,” the doe-eyed prince at your door mumbles, gaze bouncing somewhere beyond your shoulder, over your face, to the wayward strands that’re the result of sleeping too well. Everywhere but your eyes.

“Fine,” you huff, stepping back to allow him over the threshold. You don’t miss the way he smells - his signature cologne and something else. If you had to guess, it’s her perfume. It’s distinctly floral, drawing you into a garden of roses. You don’t know if you like it.

Without a second glance, you’re shuffling away from him, dragging your slippered feet into the kitchen.

You move on autopilot, spooning coffee grounds into the Chemex filter. You don’t bother asking whether your surprise guest wants any - assume he does, because the fiend somehow lives on caffeine - and settle against the counter as you wait for your kettle to whistle.

You’re still so tired you feel like you might fall asleep standing up but you think you do a good enough job of levelling Jungkook with a solid stare. “So?”

“W-what?”

It’s been so long since you’ve last heard his stutter that it surprises you, recentres your attention from your own exhaustion and has you frowning. Something’s happened. Must have. There’s no other explanation for it - for how he looks at you, so uncertain like all those months ago when you’d smashed his glass house to pieces.

“What’s going on?” You’re demanding, full to the brim with concern as you round on him. He flinches away as if your words have burnt him, leaning into the stainless steel side of your fridge.

(Silly Jungkook - that won’t protect you.)

“What do you mean?”

The early hour has, luckily, dampened your usual aggression. He’s stalling, you can tell. You hate when he does this. You tell him as much, glowering at him as he tries to shrink his nearly six foot frame into something small. “You’ve showed up at my house unannounced. What do you mean ‘what do I mean’?”

He looks as if he’s on the brink of repeating himself, biting it back behind his neat white teeth when your expression grows darker, more frustrated.

It’s impossible to stay dressed in red, lethargy swathing you up like a cocoon and softening your edges. You sigh heavily - perhaps a little overdramatically - and go about completing your coffee ritual. Patience works best with Jungkook, you’ve learned. (Though, he sorely tests your own sometimes.)

With a steaming mug in your hand and the other passed over to him, you gesture toward your living room.

He nods once - a small up and down of his head.

“So.” You try again, softer this time, warmed by the heat that permeates ceramic and settles your sleep-ravaged nerves. You’re seated cross-legged on your couch, facing him with your back pressed to the arm rest. He’s half-turned to you, coffee cup slotted between his thighs. Feet turned in, mouth wobbling with the intensity of how hard he’s chewing into his bottom lip.

“I couldn’t do it.” The words rush out too fast, tumble into each other in such a way you have to take a second to comprehend what he’s said. Couldn’t do… it?

You stare at each other for a long while, you trying to understand and him refusing to meet your stare.

When realisation dawns on you, you can only imagine how you look. It must be terrifying by how Jungkook practically tries to crawl into the cushions of your couch, shoulders rising around his ears like a turtle.

“You didn’t ask her?” It explodes out, a question that demands an answer.

He’s staring past your head, unblinking. You’d almost worry he was a robot if his voice weren’t so damned human, full of melancholy and rounded by his lisp. “I c-couldn’t. It was just…” The shrug he offers is half-assed at best, not nearly good enough to excuse him.

“Just what?”

“Just—” There’s the wiggly hand gesture you do that he’s adopted, his ink-strewn hand waving through the air like a floppy chicken foot. He thinks it’ll earn him a pass but your unrelenting glare indicates otherwise. He deflates, hand falling back to his lap, clutching his mug like it's a makeshift security blanket. “It didn’t feel right.”

What did that even mean? Feel right?

Love didn’t just appear, fully-formed and complete. It took work and dedication and the understanding it could all come crashing down. Didn’t he understand that? Hadn’t you drilled that into his head?

You exhale through gritted teeth, push breath past enamel that acts like a solid steel gate.

“Jungkook, it’s not going to just ‘feel right.’” You’re air quoting, all tact thrown out the window. “You like her, don’t you?”

You expect him to nod immediately. He doesn’t.

“Jungkook.”

“Yeah?”

“You like her, right?”

“I think so.”

You want to tear your own hair out. Instead, you press the pads of your fingers into your temple - apply pressure in hopes of alleviating the tension that settles there. “So, you like her.” It feels a bit bad, condescending in a way; you don’t mean it in any way but supportive. You just want him to be happy. “But you couldn’t ask her out because it didn’t feel right?”

“She’s not you.”

He’s looking at you now, looks like he might have a heart attack if he does so any longer. But he doesn’t tear his gaze away when you meet it, entire expression warped into something you don’t recognise. Hope, maybe? Fear?

“What?” You wish it were hard rather than feather light, almost lost to the cacophony in your head.

The hollow of his cheek is thrown into stark relief, the line of his jaw clenched tight. He repeats himself even as you’re the one looking away, shaking your head as if that might will away the irksome answer. (It won’t.)

“Don’t say things like that.”

It’s hurt that flashes through his expression and strikes you right in the centre of your chest. His face crumbles, brows knit together beneath his mop of shiny hair. He looks so terribly sad - a kicked puppy, an abandoned deer. Bambi, through and through.

“You asked why I didn’t do it,” he reasons in a voice far more solid than he looks.

“I didn’t think you’d say something so ridiculous.” It’s cruel. “You’re making a bad choice. You’re into this girl. Don’t be dumb.”

His features rearrange, then so do his limbs, entire body lifting from his seat in jerky, disjointed movements. “I’m not dumb.” There’s a reproachful quality to his words, a distaste he doesn’t bother to mask. It’s not something you’ve ever faced, surprising you enough to draw your eyes to his face.

He doesn’t look like the Jungkook you know.

When he leaves - sets his cup in the sink and storms out the way he’d come before you have time to stop him - you wonder if you ever knew him at all.

“Okay. Spill.”

Yejin’s tired of your abrasiveness, tired of having her head bitten off every time she tries to approach you with a question. You can’t blame her. You’ve felt like shit the last week, sleep-deprived and generally pissed off.

All because of a doe-eyed idiot.

“What?” It’s less snark, more sigh. You’re counting down the minutes until you’re free, until you can curl back up in your bed and try to sleep like you’ve done the last four days.

“What’s going on with you?”

“Nothing.”

“Bullshit,” she hums, trailing after you as you move behind the counter. “You’ve been in a bad mood all week. I’ve never seen you this upset like, ever.” She’s right, of course. You’ve always been very careful to keep business separate, pushing the customer service agenda no matter what. “Did something happen?”

You grit your teeth. An expletive careens off your tongue when you slam the tip of your finger within the drawer you’d just shut.

“____,” she tries again, concerned.

“Nothing happened.”

“See, I don’t believe that because like, look at you!” She gesticulates wildly, adorned wrists clinking loudly. “You look like hell—”

“Thanks.”

“—and you’re being clumsy and like, I think I know you well enough. So just tell me?”

You hate that she’s right. It doesn’t mean you’ll relent, too caught up in your own strange brand of strength to unload. (Maybe it’d be helpful. Probably. But you’ve never found comfort in other people. At least, not like this.)

“Yejin.” Her name stops her in her tracks, hurried and insistent as you pull your coat on. “It’s fine. Really.” You’re swallowing your pride - practically choking on it - as you offer what you hope is a reassuring smile. “I just need to get some sleep.” And figure out what the hell to do about Jungkook, but that’s a can of worms you refuse to open and certainly not here.

Maybe at home, over a glass of wine, fueled by liquid courage.

The bottle of Côtes du Rhône has aided you more than you’d hoped, offered an armour that slinks over your shoulders and drives your fingers to action. It’s prompted something - started the ball rolling.

(Idly, you think that might not have been a very good idea, but it’s too late to care now.)

“You’re here.” You being him and him being Jeon Jungkook, hair damp and imposing frame draped in an oversized sweater. He looks terribly uncomfortable standing in your doorway - more so than he had days ago - hands shoved into the kangaroo pouch of his hoodie, dumb sneakers pigeon-toed as if he’s ready to take flight.

“Y-you asked,” he mutters, refusing to meet your stare. At least, you think he’s refusing. It’s a little hard to focus when there’s this fine film turning everything hazy, the bitter taste of wine heavy on your tongue.

“I didn’t think you’d come.”

He looks at you like you’re crazy then, though he never quite meets your eyes. It’s a smart tactic - level you with a look then immediately bounce it away. It has you coming back for more, eager to refocus his fretful gaze until it’s locked with your own.

“Will you come in?” You sidestep, give him enough space that he can enter without feeling suffocated. He still hesitates, takes a second too long in deciding. “I won’t bite.”

You don’t miss the better promise that comes under his breath.

“So.” This feels oddly familiar, him backed into the corner of your couch again while you settle across from him. He hums a noise but offers nothing further.

This is how it’ll be then. Fine. If he wants to be this way.

“You like me.”

He sputters - doesn’t mean to, by how big his eyes go. He hadn’t expected it to come barreling out of your mouth. “I— I don’t— I didn’t say that.”

If it were anyone but him, you’d take his reticence as rudeness.

“Tell me why.”

The poor boy blinks, stares at you full on now. Can’t look away, locked in the intensity of your stare.

“W-what?”

“Tell me.” You sip carefully at the liquid in your glass, swirl it ‘round and ‘round. “You said that girl wasn’t me but you haven’t made a case as to why that matters. What have I got that she doesn’t?”

“You’re serious?”

“As a heart attack, Jungkookie.”

The brunet swallows, Adam’s apple bobbing with the motion. You think he might say no, outright refuse. You don’t expect him to start rattling things off like the list lives in his head, answers printed against the darks of his eyelids.

“You’re funny. You’re honest. You speak your mind.” You don’t mean to scoff but his reasons are so shallow - so easily found in other people. He must read the doubt in your expression, pushing on to cut you off from doing the same to him. “Y-you care about people even when you pretend like you don’t. You’re just as scared of being hurt as I am.”

For the first time in a long time - in years and years - you feel seen. As if he’s pulled back the cover of your unpublished draft, memorised the redlines and notes in the margins.

“I don’t—”

“You have this face you make when you’re proud of me.” He’s turning his own fingers over in his lap, knuckles white from the strain of locking them together and undoing them again. “When I do something you approve of or when I make you laugh.”

There’s something thick in your throat.

“You make me want to try.” He clears his own, speaks so softly you have to strain to hear it. “Y-you make things not so scary.”

It grows heavier, harder to breathe as you stare at the man sitting across from you. He’s focused wholly on his hands, too caught up in his words to help the way he plucks at his skin, fiddles with the silver chain that loops around his wrist.

“You know what I need, even before I know myself. You make me laugh.” He laughs, an almost choked sound that fizzles and rattles bashfully. “You look really, really good in your work skirt.” You know the one he means - all black, pencil-fit. Makes your legs look a mile long, despite the fact that they aren’t.

You can’t help but join him, a little breathless, with a strange sensation behind your ribs. Like sunshine on a cold day, filtering past the walls you’ve put up, streaming through the windows that’d replaced drywall when Jungkook had waltzed into your life with his fluffy hair and boyish laugh.

When you speak, you don’t even believe your own words. They come of their own accord - a defense mechanism. “I can’t.”

As if he knows - as if he’s got a polygraph going, Jungkook shakes his head, meets your eyes and holds you there with the intensity of his attention. “Can’t or won’t?”

“I—”

“I’m not asking for the world here. Just a chance.” He’s got a peculiar look on his face. “Don’t you think you owe it to me?”

“Excuse me?”

All of a sudden, he’s close. Closer than you’d expect, far closer than he should be. There’s nothing beyond his expression, the way his eyes twinkle under the dimmed apartment lights as he stares you down. The scent of his cologne is cloying now, the fading nectarine hint of his shampoo making your mouth water.

“You kind of ruined my life. I think this makes us fair.”

You sputter, gasp, make sounds that careen off your tongue and fill the air with nonsense. You’d ruined his life? (You’d made it better - made him see the light, you thought.) You’re working to find your voice, ready to tear into him for this abrupt accusation.

Then he’s giggling, nose scrunched and delight filtering past his teeth.

“I’m kidding.”

It feels like whiplash. You’ve created a monster.

“But you do owe me, I think. So why not?”

You only have yourself to blame when you say yes, conceding to his pretty eyes and sweet smile.

Dating Jungkook is easy - as effortless as breathing. He’s a bona fide dreamboat plucked from your wildest dreams.

He texts when he says he will and picks you up every night, stamping a kiss to your cheek the moment you’ve clocked out. He holds your hand and refuses to let go, rubbing soothing circles over your wrist when you’re tired or stressed or annoyed. He brings flowers to every date - insists on them even when you tell him they’re a waste of money. He knows your coffee order, has learned the art of the pour over when he wakes up before you.

You understand now, why he’d stayed with women who were terrible for him (to him). If you were them, you wouldn’t have let him go either. Would lock him up in an old tower like your own personal Rapunzel.

(You say that because you’ve been on a Disney movie binge. He is, unsurprisingly, very into these sorts of things.)

“Open it,” he pleads, pushing the luxurious pink box towards you.

You stare down at the lid, the Agent Provocateur label glaring back at you. You can’t help how you laugh, sound bouncing around his bedroom. “Are you trying to tell me something, Jungkookie?”

Your lover - not boyfriend, because you haven’t had the talk and it’s still new and you’ve never been this careful before - rolls his eyes, pushes the box closer with a huff. It’s adorable.

“Just open it.”

You finger the soft bow strapped across the top, play with the neatly cut ends. You can feel the impatience radiating off Jungkook, feel those pretty doe eyes boring holes into the top of your head. You take your time even more now, unravelling the ribbon with slow, measured twists of your wrist.

Whatever you’d expected to find nestled among the tissue paper, this isn’t it.

You’d imagined he’d be into something feminine, all pristine white lace and scalloped cups. Something he could brush his cheek against, run his fingers over.

Tucked within the box is something that doesn’t even earn the title of lingerie, a few flimsy straps bonded together. Blush pink satin and dressed with buckles, you turn it over in your hands, trying to make sense of the way it all connects. Surely there’s more to this. Surely, darling innocent Jeon Jungkook doesn’t expect you to wear just this?

“Do you like it?” You can sense the eagerness in his voice, that desire he has to please that seems to never go away.

“What is it?”

“It’s a playsuit.”

“A playsuit?” You’re no stranger to experimenting in the bedroom but this— this looks like it’s meant to harness a dog in. Would it even fit? Soft as it is, it seems terribly restrictive, made for someone with model proportions and no body fat at all.

He nods, round eyes so bright, so hopeful, you can’t voice your concerns. “Will you wear it?”

It fits you better than you’d expected. Or at least, you think it does. If Jungkook’s reaction was any indication, it’s heaven sent - the perfect gift wrapping for a present he’s been dying to claim.

The buckles you’d studied earlier - that had taken you too long to strap together - dig into the tender flesh of your hips, the shape of his fingers imprinted along the metal. He grips you so tight you think you might bruise, left with a reminder of his love for weeks.

“S-so wet,” he groans, sound dropping into an almost whine as the swollen mushroom head of his cock brushes through your folds. The satin of the playsuit has been long since tugged aside, stained with your arousal as it cuts into the softness of your thighs. He repeats the motion once, twice, coats your clit in pre-cum that leaks out of the slit and adds another layer of slick. “So ready for me, aren’t you, sweetheart?”

You nod dumbly, drool around the two fingers he’s got slotted against your cheek, ring finger pressed down over your tongue.

“Use your words, gorgeous.” As if you can, as if you’re not riding the high of your last orgasm and about to come apart beneath his playful teasing.

The palm of his hand meets your overstimulated clit with a sharp smack, the cold of his teeth bared against your neck. He doesn’t like when you don’t answer - much prefers to make an effort even if it’s indiscernible.

“What did I say?”

Something garbled comes, a plea as much as a sob. Another hit lands, just shy of the pearl that throbs with need and pain, landing instead on the sensitive, already red skin of your inner thigh. He soothes it this time around, massages your own wetness into the roses that bloom beneath his touch.

When he speaks again, it’s so utterly sweet, tender as can be. The Jungkook you’ve known for months and not the devil in disguise.

“You like this, don’t you?” His kisses are searing, laced with reverence that feels at odds with the way he forces your gag reflex, taps his curved cock against your pussy. “You like what I’m doing?”

“Y-yes,” you cry, spit pooling past the sides of your mouth, dripping lewdly across your breasts. The hand cradling your chin is all but drenched, dark ink thrown into stark relief by the way it slides over his skin. Jungkook hums against your cheek, licks a fat stripe from shoulder to ear.

“Good girl.” Two fingers spread across over your heat, pointer and index sliding over your lips. You’re spread obscenely - can see it in the mirror that rests against the far wall. Can see how the head of his cock peeks between your thighs, runs the same path over and over with each languid, slow roll of his hips. “Such a good girl for me. My perfect girl.”

Your shoulders shake with the effort you put into nodding, throat clenching on reflex when the three fingers in your mouth flatten over your tongue, hold you steady in place.

“Pretty girl wants more, doesn’t she? Wants me to fill her up?”

He’s teasing you, the bastard. Dragging his aching erection against your cunt as you writhe against him, desperate. It’s amusing to him - you can read the delight in the reflection, see it shining bright like a beacon when he pulls his hand away and recentres it across your chest. Digits tease at the already pebbled buds, swollen and sensitive from how hard he’d sucked them into his mouth earlier.

“Say it. Say you want me.”

You do, without hesitation, without fear. You know he’ll catch you. “I want you.”

He sinks into you the same instant the words fall, holds you tight against him when your entire body begins buzzing and threatens to do the same. Your walls feel like a vice grip around him, greedily sucking in his cock as he slams home, ruts into you like a wild animal.

Strong as he is, he’s weak to the noises you make - the broken sobs that spill off your tongue and make up the prettiest sound he’s ever heard - and how you feel absolutely perfect, wet and warm. The muscle in his thighs strain, pleasure vibrating up the notches of his spine, setting every nerve ending alight with its ascent.

“B-be mine,” he returns, practically begging as he spreads you wide, making you take everything he has to offer. Heart and soul and stupidly huge, perfect cock.

“I am. I am. I am,” you chant, tears welling along your lash line. They fall when his rhythm stutters, when the heat overwhelms and you’re coming for the third time that night, crying his name like it’s the only word you know.

They continue to pour, carve trails down your reddened cheeks as you reach nirvana, wait for moment he’s right there with you. It doesn’t take long - a few more punishing thrusts into your fluttering heat - and then he’s found his bliss, crying into the silk of your hair, spilling inside you.

It doesn’t happen how you thought it would - a shy question poised over dinner, sealed with a sweet kiss on the way to the car - but it means just as much. Breaks you apart as it rebuilds you, fills you up as it splits your seams.

You’re his and he’s always been yours.

tag list. @neverthefirstchoice @youwannabelostandnotbefound @snackhobi @codeinebelle @shaybtsforever @we-found-wonderland-in-1989 @justanothergirlfromeurope @jalexad @bonnyskies @coffeeismylife28 @haeilove @purplespaceymermaid @sunsetsnsirens-blog @beingbeings @veronawrites @notmontae97 @papillonsgf i’m really hoping i didn’t miss anyone e___e

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asexual-abomination · 3 years

Note

Hi 🥺 I saw requests were open? Could you maybe do platonic Phantom Troupe with the reader having echolalia? If the troupe is too much, maybe just Chrollo and Feitan? Thank you in advance 🥺

Thank you so much for this request! I had a lot of fun writing it!

I know that echolalia and a lot of other symptoms show up differently in different people, so I had to base this on my own experience, and I have a tendency to echo literally anything, words, sounds, rhythms, anything.

I decided to have this take place in a scenario where reader copies each member individually!

Chrollo

Probably the one who has read up on any and all of your symptoms, since he considers it his responsibility to be educated on your needs

When, after you happened to be sat in a meeting with the Troupe, you began muttering to yourself, he wanted to see if you were alright

As he walked up to after, hoping to speak with you, he was surprised to see you repeating a seemingly innocuous phrase from somewhere in the middle of the meeting

Chrollo would recognize this as a stim, but he wouldn’t understand immediately why you would be stimming something he randomly said

He would be a bit thrown off when your explanation is very simple, telling him that it just sounded right, felt right in your brain

He wouldn’t tell a soul, but a little part of him was proud that you found his voice that nice to listen to that you’d imitate it for fun

He definitely doesn’t mind, and even encourages any stimming in general, since he can see that it makes you happy

Machi

While most of her medical training is in more physical things, after it was mentioned that you were autistic, she decided to go and top up her knowledge of neurodivergency.

At one point during a mission, she murmured to herself to remember a safe’s code, not realizing that she was within earshot of you

Several hours after the mission was over and everyone was celebrating the spoils of victory, she overheard you repeating the code to yourself over and over again

She expressed her confusion to you, reminding you that the mission was over and there was no need for the code anymore

When your response was to tell her that the code simply sounded nice, she would probably get confused for a moment

Machi doesn’t quite understand how some random string of numbers can ‘sound nice’ but she also knows that your brain functions differently from hers

I don’t see her making too big a deal out of it, but she’d actually make a sly comment about how much you listen to her

Other than that, she happy to let you stim as you please!

Phinks

Probably not educated at all about the intricacies of your stimming or any symptoms in general, but he'll never get upset with you, since he understands on some level that it's just how you are

I'd imagine that the way you'd echo from him miiight come from overhearing him death threatening a scared hostage

Definitely spooks him when he hears you mumbling the harshest and longest string of curses he's ever heard

Mostly because you're spitting the words with the exact same tone as he did, and he thinks that you're trying to threaten him

(He doesn't wanna mess with you 😆)

When he finally figures out that you're copying him, he jumps to the next conclusion that you're mocking him

"What? Am I not intimidating to you? I sure scared that scum back there!"

"What are you talking about?"

His face when you explain yourself to him is nothing short of flustered, and he begins profusely apologizing

He gets super caught up whenever he's accidentally ableist, since he wants you to feel safe around him

Once you've cleared up the situation, he actually takes joy in seeing you copy him, and if he gets the chance he'll want to teach you how to be more intimidating

Uvogin

Another case of not really knowing what stims are, but being respectful of them anyway

I mean, man is literally eight feet tall, he doesn't care about whatever weird things anyone else might do

He roars at the back of his throat once, and that's it

When he's walking past you after a mission, Uvo's almost shocked to hear you making a vague growling noise constantly

Since he likes to lean into his animal side a bit more than others, he'll jokingly ask if you're trying to intimidate him, much like Phinks

When you explain to him to you thought that his roar was fun enough to copy, he also takes an odd sense of pride in it

He's not normally a man for any kind of subtlety, but if you actually found his roars pleasing to listen to, he'll see if he can roar at a volume that won't immediately burst your eardrums without protection or distance

If you do a lot of vocal stimming in general, especially imitation of his roars, I can see him taking you out to some mountain or cave or whatever to practice your roar for some fun bonding

Nobunaga

Okay so we know that he spends plenty of time around Machi, so she's probably explained some of the main symptoms of your autism at some point when he asked

But when he sits next to you and hears you trying to imitate the sounds that his sword makes when he charges it with his Nen, he looks at you incredulously for a moment

You may not have even noticed that you were echoing at first, so you'll probably be confused when you see him looking at you

"Oh, sorry, your sword just sounds nice!"

*Cue even further confusion from him*

Completely doesn't get how a sword sounds nice, but kind of has this "You do you, kid" attitude about it

May or may not invite you to listen to his practice and then wait until afterwards to listen for your echoes because he finds it cute

Shizuku

Okay I'm gonna be honest, when Blinky first appeared in show and made that noise, I was taken and kept trying to make the same noise for hours whenever it appeared

"Shizuku, why did you summon Blinky? Is something wrong?"

"What are you talking about? I didn't summon them?"

"Oh that was me, sorry."

Definitely has a giggle about it when she finds that you enjoy echoing her Nen ability

Will summon Blinky whenever you want to 'have a chat' with them

Very openly thinks you're absolutely adorable with it, and it's one of the first things she'll do every time she gets to see you

Shalnark

Honestly, he says everything with such a happy, upbeat tone, anything he says can be copied for fun

His laugh is the best, so you're probably echoing that

He's probably not too shocked when he hears an attempt his own laugh coming from down the hallway, thinking someone's trying to play a prank on him

But he'll be a little confused when he finds you

When you reveal the truth of what you were doing, oh god, be prepared

"Aww, you like my voice that much??"

"You do a pretty good impression of me, must spend a lot of time listening, huh?"

He WILL NOT stop until he gets to see you blush, though if he does overstep and upset you, he'll tone it back down immediately

Might not change anything especially big with his usual way of talking, but will take a moment to appreciate his own voice whenever he catches you imitating him

Bonolenov

THE MUSIC!!

Okay I know that they're mainly used for battle and injuring people's ears, but he definitely has more calm songs that he plays for his friends

When you first hear it, the tunes are so enchanting that you will be humming or whistling it for weeks afterwards

He's sitting and relaxing when he hears you attempting to hum the tune of a sweet lullaby he had once played for the Troupe

It's probably not a perfect replication, since it takes a while to learn the songs he makes, but it makes his heart melt to think that you want to try your hand at his beloved music

When he overhears you, he jumps in to begin gushing about the song you found so lovely

Asking if you'd like to hear it again - he'd certainly love to play it for you again!

He might seem really overexcited, but he's genuinely happy that he can bring you joy with his ability

Franklin

Took me a moment to think of something for him, but after a while of thinking:

He speaks slowly and calmly quite often, so I can imagine that he can sometimes say things in very rhythmic fashion, which will catch on very quick

You're walking away from a quick chat with him, when he hears you whispering under your breath

Normally wouldn't even make a note of it, but he wants to make sure you're okay

(Definitely isn't worried about you and wanting to keep you safe)

His reaction when you tell him that you liked the way that he said something is a mix between "Oh, that's nice" and "What are you on about"

Has probably the least amount of education on stimming, but also one of the most open to learning, since he wants to do what he can to keep those he cares about safe and happy

Will be a bit put off by the way you seem to copy him at first, but definitely doesn't mind after a while

Silently thanks you for making him take a moment to appreciate his own voice

Pakunoda

Sweetheart hums a meteor city anthem one day, and isn't really shocked when she comes upon you humming it yourself

Since she's looked into your mind with her ability, she knows the way that you like to echo certain sounds, and doesn't mind at all

If she's listening from around a corner or such, she will smile joyfully and quietly wait out of your sight

Unless you catch her in the act, she's actually quite happy to not let you know of presence while she enjoys the thought of you enjoying her culture

But, if you do catch her, she'll probably start gushing to you about the origin of whichever song you wanted to imitate

She wants you to feel happy, however you wish to pursue that, and will absolutely hype you up in any sort of stimming you need to do

Whether you want her to ignore your echoing, or to join in whenever she hears, she's happy to do whatever you ask to keep you happy

Feitan

If he catches you copying something he said in broken language, at first he will assume that you were making fun of him

Not because he thinks that you're mean spirited, just because he's used to people mocking

With most members of the Troupe, he would show no mercy at this point, but since he actually likes you, you get one chance to explain yourself

Once you tell him about why you're copying him, he'll be seriously confused for a moment

Yeah he's never heard the word echolalia before

So you'll have to explain it to him

Probably doesn't immediately get it, but he lets you off the hook for it, since he does understand that you're very different from him and the others

Doesn't really think too much of it once you've cleared up that you aren't mocking him, although he finds it interesting to listen to you talking about how stimming works, even when he doesn't understand half of it

Kortopi

Actually another case that assumes that you're mocking him

He's used to being acknowledged as a weak link in the Troupe, and would get quite internally upset if he thought you were also in on the joke

I can't explain why I think this, but I actually see him as one of the most educated members of the group when it comes to any sort of neurodiversity, since I think he's neurodivergent himself, but he probably doesn't catch on immediately that this stems from your own autism

Wouldn't confront you straight away, but when he does, he tries to be as professional as possible about it

Cue a string of quiet apologies when you explain yourself

Quickly tries to explain himself to you, and you probably bond over how annoying it can be to have stimming misunderstood

Tries his best to let you know from then on that any symptoms you need to express are accepted around him, since he knows that you accept him as well

-----

Thanks for reading!

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spiltscribbles · 3 years

Note

May I please have some wolfstar height difference headcanons? I’m so sick of tall remus in all these fics I just want tall sirius 😭

JBDFIJFIFSYIGF

Omfgb!!! You are such a cinnamon sprinkled muffin Nonny😂😂 this is literally such a mood I’m screaming!!! Sirius being the taller of the duo is literally the only caveat I gave @omgcmere when she wrote me the boys in my BIRTHDAY FIC and THE FICLET she wrote me after I won our bet! bahahaha! It’s like just one of those things that really throws me when I read tge opposite kgduhg And both of those FICs are SO fucking beautiful! And I hate her and I hope she chokes on a spoiled egg!!!

Okay so real quick, general disclaimer! If you prefer Remus as being the taller of them like in the movies, that is the bees knees! You do you and thrive icon! The point of Fandom is to enjoy yourself and live it up babey! Only thing I absolutely can not stand is when folks make Sirius like the same height or around the same height as fucking Peter, when canonically in the books Harry describes Sirius’s appearance as really tall and really hot, lmfao that’s about it. (Bless our bisexual king!😌😌😌)😌 And we won’t even touch how when folks make him like tiny they also just bring along this vaguely uncomfortable characterization of him being super feminized and such, but I’m a cis woman, and even if I’m pan I don’t have the right to talk on that. But chow anyways…

Height Difference Headcanons!!

(If I repeat anything that anyone else has said please clock me so I can give proper credit!)

Okay like first off, I remember reading something by the gloriously talented @goodboylupin about Remus and Lily occasionally sharing tops and I absolutely love it! Because I think they’re both probably built pretty lithe, and I raise her HC that there is a pair of leggings that neither of them knows actually who exactly bought them, but they steal it from one another constantly and fight over it so savagely becs damn it makes their asses look like a bubble butt dream!

Plot twist, the leggings originally belonged to James for him to practice quidditch during the autumn but like he does not want to get into that hassle RIP

And on this same vein! Imagine Remus borrowing Sirius’s like favorite Velvet Underground or Lead Zeppelin shirt that he got from his first Muggle concert that Remus took him on for his fifteenth birthday, sneaking him out Hogwarts when they were still only just friends! And imagine Sirius’s thirsty ass when they finally get their own place after school and Remus is just puttering around the apartment in that and his pants and nothing else, and sometimes it kind of slips to show a good amount of collarbone because Sirius Black was a beater damn it! And just they never get anything done before noon tbh flkasdjglhasodgi

I also HC Remus and James being like the same height, so about 5’10 compared to Sirius’s 6/1, so they each get fucking irritated when Sirius hides things on a particularly heigh shelf just to be a bastard, and like Peter is just sitting their, fully exasperated because his short ass has mastered the levitation charm to grab things out of his reach since he was like twelve. (JFC a single braincell between these pricks when they’re together!)

I know this doesn’t necessarily have to do with height, but sometimes I think of Remus being badgered by James to fill in for their seeker for their match against Slytherin because their typical one is out with dragon pocks, and his little, agile ass breaks a record for quickest win!!!

Okay picture that this is a happy AU without Voldy and Sirius, drunk off his arse, insisting to carry Remus bridal style through the threshold of their flat after James and Lily’s wedding! And like somehow that leads to their own proposal because they are fucking dorks!!!

Okay also imagine when Sirius is having like a rough night thinking about his family, (which I have very, very specific headcanons about) and Remus being the big spoon for a change, which is just him curling around Sirius like a fucking koala bear bahahaha

Okay this is weird becs I is a short fuck myself, but I can’t think of anything else to add rn, but YES YES YES! Tall Sirius rights! Bahahaha

~My Wolfstar FIC Masterlist~ ~Send Me A Prompt/Chat With Me💜🥺

#WOLFSTAR #REMUS LUPIN #SIRIUS BLACK #REMUSXSIRIUS #SIRIUSXREMUS #MARAUDERS #harry potter series #Headcanons #headcanons by len

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shinjukuspiritcommittee · 3 years

Text

Top 20 2021

My Favorites (updated)

Hello my readers, it’s been a while since I just posted something not related to a headcanon and I am doing one right now. I just wanted to take a bit of a break to just get SOMETHING on here on my days off work. Plus I’m just trying to find my groove when it comes to writing again so hopefully this helps me just get back into the mood of making a post more often lol. I wanted to revisit this topic for a while just because we’ve had a lot more events and a lot more alts in the game were added. And I know for a fact LifeWonders reads these posts in some capacity because I have meme’d an AR into the game with my top picks from the last list I did for Christmas 2019. No I didn’t. I’m just joking around and I know LifeWonders doesn’t read this.

Anyways rather than just make up a list on the spot like last year I decided to use the Housamo Sortmaker (Link: https://club.housamo.xyz/sortmaker/ ) to try and make a list that’s more revealing to what I was thinking at the time. Since I talked about 20 characters ish last time I’m just gonna read from my 20th place to my 1st place spots and try to justify whatever I was thinking at the time. Anyways-

20: Marchosias and Susan: This one was a surprise for me if I’m being honest but I’m just gonna blame the fact on Shukou’s recent involvement with LifeWonders in the form of Live A Hero and how Ryekie and Mokdai live in my headspace rent free whenever I think about the characters in that game. Maybe we can see about getting some LAH headcanons since that’s a LifeWonders property too). So out of all the characters Shukou drew for Housamo why did I pick Marchosias? Easy, it’s been 4 years and this poor man has yet to receive a proper alt or any kind of skin for that matter and I think that it’s a crime. Sure he’s not my favorite but he’s definitely grown on me because he’s just a gentle dad kind of character and his design has grown on me over the years. I just hope he doesn’t get left behind since he has a lot of really interesting and potential things to look forward to in the future given how the main story has unfolded.

19: Shiva/Algernon: The helmet heads are together because DAI XT quickly became my favorite artist for Fire Emblem Heroes and I really just like their designs. DAI XT just knows how to draw robots, armor and muscles well. Also Chapter 11 with Shiva you can read into some interesting perspectives. I don’t want to spoil any of the untranslated content for anyone who’s waiting for the official english translation. But if you are curious Roureem has a blogspot where he posts summaries of the newly released events.

Link: https://housamosummaries.blogspot.com/

18: Cthugha: I love this goober so much. He’d constantly try to act super sentai just trying say good morning everyday. He may not be very bright but that just adds to his charm and honestly I enjoy how he always tries to play the hero in a lot of scenarios because it’s refreshing when they implement him after a bunch of heavy hitting story stuff. I’m not gonna spoil too much about it but I will say he’s more than welcome after everything Chapter 10 and 11 put the reader through.

17: Mineaki: I’ve made a post about him being one of my least favorites way back when I first started this blog and let me just say how times have changed and I’ve learned the value of not judging a book by it’s cover. I still think there’s something a bit off about Kowmei’s style for his characters, but Mineaki has definitely grown on me. He’s a caring instructor who does watch out for his students even if it’s not always in the most direct way possible. Not to get into too many spoilers he’s got a lot of intrigue around him as well and I am curious to see his role get expanded down the line.

16: Ded: Housamo is the reason I really like christmas. The Christmas stories despite following a similar structure to each other do tend to be my favorite stories. Ded himself is also just another good dad character. He’s also two guys for the price of one, so I mean… you know… you’ve got the forever ask your other dad situation. There wasn’t much thought put into this choice I just like santa as a concept because I think the outfits are cute, it’s always nice to get something for people you care about on Christmas and Ded is the perfect embodiment of both sides to Christmas.

15: Shinya: Everyone we need to manifest buff Shinya for 2021, this is not a drill. This is legitimate. We must make Taromati’s and my wish come true. To be more serious again he’s just a sweet and gentle character. He’s also drawn by my favorite Housamo artist. Their characters always just look so naturally good. I’m just surprised he hasn’t gotten much of an alt given he’s perfect material for Valentine’s day. He’s just a soft boy and I would love for him to be in more things because I just enjoy seeing him.

14: Jacob: I have to be honest Jacob is on here because every time I look at him he just gets more handsome to me. I wasn’t all that impressed with his introduction and we don’t know much about his background but I’ve just been drawn to him more and more. Maybe it’s just because he’s drawn by GomTang? I just like looking at him and I can’t help it. To speak a bit less crass he’s another gentleman kind of guy and those are always nice.

13: Shennong: Yeah I like the doc a lot. Firstly, I’m a huge sucker for big bulls and Shennong fits the bill. The white fur really adds to his appeal visually and the purple horns give off a bit of an unnatural appearance. Shen feels like someone who’s been touch starved and alone for a long time given how he acts as a character and when we actually hug him I just lost it. He always has others well being on his mind so he’s not afraid to jump in and help, or give a much needed lecture about when you need to take better care of yourself. He just comes across as very well balanced overall.

12: Heracles: I won’t lie- at first he didn’t interest me much. He looked incredibly plain when among the rest of the cast and he seemed like the typical “bait” character since the banner had Echo, Barguest, Gyumao and Snow. But after reading the translation for Valentine Time Slip I was taken aback at how much of a gentle giant he turned out to be and I just really liked his interactions with the others in that event. And honestly his special quest from that year was one of the more unique ones given the slower pace and more romantic vibe it had. After the event warmed my heart I did a complete 180 and I just knew I really liked him.

11. Yasuyori: Before I start praising him I feel I have to justify why he didn’t quite make top 10 and it will have some mild Chapter 10 spoilers. To be as vague as possible his resolution just didn’t vibe with me at the end of Chapter 10. Like it wasn’t a bad resolution and it was the right choice to make but in my opinion there really wasn’t a moment I felt was clear where he made a choice for himself. Everything just sort of happened around him and it felt like he didn’t really do much to improve his situation. To an extent I kind of see that being the idea given his origins and the story he’s based on and there is some semblance of him coming to terms with himself alongside his isolation being portrayed pretty well, but I just wasn’t satisfied with it as much as I would like to be. With that out of the way, oh my god I just want this boy to never stop smiling and I just want to give him hugs constantly please he just deserves to be happy!!! Yasuyori is a character who’s got a lot of baggage and he’s just trying to find ways to properly cope with his trauma and not repeat past mistakes and I just really like that idea. His role in Xmas 2020 (sorry I just forgot the name of that event, but its when he gets his alt) was a much better representation for his character in my eyes. I’m not gonna spoil anything like I keep saying but he isn’t one to disappoint in future appearances and I just hope this lovable lug keeps getting the support he deserves.

10: Hephaestus: A spicy way to start the latter half of the list. I just want to give this lad a hug and tell him he is worthy of love. But at the same time he is a little shit… and I love that. I can’t fully explain why I grow a paternal instinct in me seeing this grown man sob about his mother but I just do. I want to keep him safe and give him all the affection he wants. Though I am aware a lot of Hephaestus’s interest in his parental figure is… questionable. I am just gonna say I would accept his love for what it is and he just wants approval.

9. Shuten: I’ll be honest I have no proper reason for why I like Shuten so much. He’s just a cool and reliable guy. He just seems like a go with the flow kind of person most of the time and he’s a bit more direct than most of the characters which I always appreciate. Plus I have an unspoken bias for naop guys in Housamo.

8. Durga: While not number 1 on this list, I still really like Durga. She’s quirky but not to an annoying degree, she’s determined and definitely very confident in her own abilities. Her growing to be more sociable throughout her events is something I enjoy seeing because it really creates this sense of growth.

7. Kyuma: I get a lot of people don’t like Kowmei’s art but I really think we should look past it because Kyuma is one of the sweeter picks. He’s someone who just wants to prove himself for his own worth and not what David can provide, but David is part of him and it just creates the potential for a good arc. Plus this boy is unintentionally smooth and will just take your heart when possible. I honestly want to see Kyuma more in events because he’s honestly the jock that carries 3 of the 4 brain cells. He’s also the last one without an alt so I’m just hoping he gets one in 2021 because he really deserves one in my opinion. (Also fan art makes him really cute).

6. Tomte: Tomte is relatively new but honestly his event in 2019 really endeared me to him. I’m trying to be spoiler free because the best way to enjoy these stories is for yourselves but let me just say his arc in the event was really endearing to me and much more than I was expecting. His fan service is also incredibly hammy and I love it. Visually Tomte is one of my favorites, I love his multi colored hair and starlit pupils cuz it makes his otherwise more generic look have some flare. I knew I liked him out the box and when I read about him in the summaries and can’t wait to read the official translation for him. I was just very endeared.

5. Tetsuya: Tetsuya fucks. Moving on…

Jokes aside this one’s a bit simple. I have no shame in admitting I think he’s attractive and his whole resistance towards wanting a relationship is cute in a weird roundabout way. When he says no I just want it MORE. I just really like duo haired tsunderes.

4. Kengo: Kengo 3rd alt 2021. Please LifeWonders I need my favorite Summoner. He’s a bro and that’s what counts. Kengo has got your back, not afraid to rely on you, a very fun and dynamic guy. Sure he’s not that bright when it comes to making plans or any book smart, but there are times where he’s the best at being able to read the room or just understand what someone needs to hear even if it isn’t always what someone wants to hear. His bullheaded nature is actually one of his redeeming qualities because it’s nice to just not overcomplicate things and just understand what’s actually going on. Yes the early story didn’t do many favors for him but to me the events, especially the later ones, do much more work for his character. To me, at least.

3. Ashigara: Ashigara is best bear, and I will defend that stance in 2021. The main thing that draws me to Ashigara is that I can see a bit of myself in him. He gets very emotional when he gets left alone, he’s very loud when with his friends, has a tendency of speaking his mind- just someone who wears his heart on his sleeve. I also appreciate that in spite of the negative he isn’t someone who backs down when the going gets tough and in a few instances he’s able to hold his ground physically at least.

2. Wakan Tanka: Love at first sight. This ray of sunshine still persists as the number 1 husband, but number 2 character. Firstly I am a huge fan of the partial beast aesthetic. The buffalo ears and the horns are absolutely adorable. Secondly he’s a perfect body type; he’s not too muscular but not exactly flabby. Third he is just so positive and I love that. He’s someone I admire and wanna hug.

1. Taurus Mask: The more things change the more they stay the same. I’m still a big Taurus Mask fan for all the same reasons as last time. I just… relate to this boy. He is an incredibly shy boy who uses his public persona for confidence. Maybe I’m reading too much into it but it’s like we’re soul bros!

So yeah, my tastes haven’t changed in a year and a half.

#tokyo afterschool summoners #housamo #Just Thoughts #qna #sfw

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sugdenlovesdingle · 3 years

Text

Better offer (AO3)

a robron First Dates AU with a twist™

A/N: I’ve had the idea of a robron First Dates (that reality show where people go on a first date on national tv) AU for AGES, and every time I catch it on tv (how come that show is on every day?? on every single channel??) I keep thinking about the robron version. I’m pretty sure I’ve read fics where robron are each other’s date on the show... so that’s where the twist™ comes in. I wanted to write something inspired by the Dawson’s Creek finale (thank you netflix for reawakening my obsession). Where it’s not revealed who Joey ended up dating (Dawson or Pacey) until the last minute and you see her watching the TV show Dawson wrote/produced based on their lives. I wanted to do something like that too and i could SEE it play out in my head. So that’s why Aaron’s date’s identity is kept kind of vague until the very end. It all made sense in my head and I hope it’s not too confusing, weird, or pretentious!

A/N 2: italics = the tv show

----

“Oh come on, just give me a little hint.”

“I can’t mum, I told you, I’m not allowed. They made me sign a contract and everything. I can’t talk about it until after it’s aired.”

“Does Adam know? I bet you told him.”

“Adam doesn’t know either, I promise. Even though he thinks he should know because he convinced me to sign up.”

“So it worked then?” Chas tried. “Your date? Are you meeting him again? For another date?”

“Nice try. I’m still not allowed to tell you. You’re just going to have to watch it on tv just like everyone else.”

“Fine.” Chas sighed. “Can you at least tell me his name? Of the bloke they matched you with. That won’t spoil anything. And I promise I won’t tell anyone.”

Aaron rolled his eyes. His mother was relentless.

“His name was Ben.”

“Ben. Ok. Ben is a good name. Ben. I like that. What did he look like? Was he fit?”

“Mum!”

“What? It’s just a simple yes or no question.”

“That I can’t answer. I’ll be sued for breaking my contract.” Aaron reminded her.

“Nobody is going to find out! And it’s going to be on tv in a few hours anyway.”

“So you’ll find out in a few hours then.”

The buzzer from the doorbell sounded and distracted Aaron from the conversation. He smiled to himself as he opened the door. He knew who would be on the other side.

“Hey you.” He greeted the other person with a kiss and stepped aside to let them in. “I thought you wouldn’t get here until it aired?”

“Switched shifts with Ellis. He owes me. I covered for him at Christmas and in January. It’s payback.”

Aaron laughed.

“You sound like an assassin or something.”

“Hmm… maybe just a superhero. I spent the day with Seb and just dropped him off at his nana’s for a sleepover and - .”

“Wait, am I cutting into your time with your son?” Aaron interrupted.

“It’s fine. I’ve taken a couple of days off and moved some things around, so I’ve got time for both of you.” He pressed a kiss to Aaron’s lips. “And the best thing is; his mum is none the wiser.”

“Shit!” Aaron swore, suddenly reminded of the phone conversation he’d been having with his own mother. “Mum? Are you still there?”

“Yes, Aaron. I’ve been shouting your name for the past 10 minutes.”

“Sorry… I got distracted…”

“Obviously.”

“Yeah… sorry… I uh… I have to go. I’ve got company. I’ll talk to you after it aired ok?”

“Company? Who? That Ben from the program?”

“Maybe. Maybe not. Bye mum.” Aaron grinned and hung up.

“Problems?”

“Nah just my mum trying to figure out if I fell madly in love with the guy they matched me with.” He explained. “I think she’s already planning the wedding.” He noticed the massive shopping bag on the kitchen table. “What’s all this?”

“Supplies. I’m cooking for you.”

“You don’t have to do that. We can just order pizza or Chinese or something.”

The other man shrugged.

“I like cooking. It’s a hobby I sort of picked up from my mum when I was a kid.”

“Yeah? Is she a good cook then?”

“Sort of… These days. She was terrible back in the day.”

Aaron laughed.

“Don’t let her hear you say that.”

“It’s fine.” He waved the comment away. “She says it all the time herself. But we learnt together. And I just like to go all out sometimes nowadays. For special occasions.”

“This is a special occasion?”

“I’d say so. Our first meeting on national tv. That’s pretty special.”

“Yeah I suppose you’re right.” Aaron smiled and leaned in for a kiss. “Best birthday present ever.” He turned to the shopping. “At least let me help with all this. Tell me what to do.”

He was put on vegetable chopping duties, and while he normally hated cooking, this time he was enjoying himself.

“I don’t think my kitchen has ever seen this much action.” He commented, watching his boyfriend stir the sauce a little while later.

“What? You can’t cook?”

“I can cook… I just… choose not to.” Aaron shrugged. “It’s boring. Waiting for water to boil or wait until it’s ready to eat after six and a half thousand hours in the oven.” He complained. “It feels like wasting time. And I can’t be bothered to go all out if it’s just me.”

“That I understand.” The other man agreed. “I don’t really do all this either when I’m alone. I just grab something to eat at work or have a microwave meal. And if Seb is with me… well… he won’t eat anything with recognisable green stuff… so it’s all mashed into oblivion. Or we have chips.”

Aaron laughed.

“Sounds like he’s got you right where he wants you.”

“What can I say, I’m a pushover.” He joked and Aaron couldn’t help but kiss him. “This is almost done, grab me two plates so I can dish it up and we can eat.”

“Aaron hurry up, it’s starting! You’ll miss your moments of glory!”

They’d just finished their meal and Aaron had insisted on making dessert. Only with his culinary skills that consisted of scooping some ice cream in bowls and adding some chocolate sauce and whipped cream.

“I’m coming, I’m coming, I’m coming.” He said as he walked over to the sofa where he joined his amused looking boyfriend. He rolled his eyes. “Yes I heard it. No you don’t get to say it or else you definitely won’t be later.”

The other man laughed and pretended to zip his mouth shut.

“Prat.”

“You love it.”

“Nobody is perfect.” Aaron said and grabbed the remote, unpausing the program and getting comfortable.

First up was a little introduction and look around the restaurant, followed by the first guests arriving.

The maître d welcomed them to the restaurant and showed them to the bar.

“Robert is our barman tonight, he’ll take your order while you wait.”

The girl on screen nodded and sat down at the bar.

“What can I get you?”

“Just a mineral water. I want to keep a clear head for my date.”

“Coming right up.” Robert turned around to get her drink. “So what are you looking for in a date? What are you hoping for?”

“I just hope she’s fun. I just got out of a bad relationship and I really want someone I can have some fun with.” The girl said.

“Wait, she? What was this? Gay night?” Aaron asked.

“Do you think they tell me anything like that? I’m only there to serve drinks and make awkward small talk with people until their date arrives. And then they go on to make awkward small talk with each other.”

Aaron snorted and turned his attention back to the screen where the girl’s date had arrived and they were being shown to their table.

Back at the entrance an elderly man walked in, dressed to the nines.

“Oh he was nice. He sat at the bar for ages and talked all about his family. He was afraid he’d been stood up but his date was just really late because of traffic.”

The man took a seat at the bar and the next moment a woman of around his age walked in and they were shown to their table.

“I knew they’d edit all that out. Talking to the barman isn’t interesting enough.”

“I don’t know, I kind of enjoyed it.” Aaron grinned. “Do you reckon they left that in?”

“Maybe. But it was definitely the highlight of my day.”

They focused on the program again and Aaron saw himself walk into the restaurant. He was greeted by the maître d and shown to the bar. But instead of showing him talking to Robert, they cut to the intro video they’d had Aaron record before he’d entered the restaurant.

“Figures. I guess they want to keep up the suspense with that Ben bloke.”

Aaron nodded in agreement and cringed when he saw himself staring at the camera, looking like he was being interrogated by the entire English police force.

“I’m Aaron, I’m 29… today actually… it’s my birthday today.”

“Oh my god do I really sound like that?” Aaron hid his face in his boyfriend’s chest. “I can’t watch this. Turn it off. Let’s watch a film.”

“No I want to see it. See if they got my good side.”

“I’m… looking for someone to have a laugh with.” The Aaron on screen shrugged. “I don’t think I really have a type… I just…” he shrugged again. “My best friend convinced me to sign up and I never expected to actually get chosen. I don’t exactly expect to meet the love of my life tonight… but I’m open for anything. If he’s nice looking and fun to talk to… then who knows what could come from this.”

The program cut back to Aaron at the bar, he’d just taken a sip from his beer and put the bottle back down.

“So, nervous?” Robert asked.

“A little.” Aaron nodded. “But hopefully he’ll be nice. And if not… at least I got a nice meal out of it.”

Robert laughed.

“That’s the spirit.”

Their conversation was cut short by the focus of Aaron’s date Ben arriving and being shown to the bar.

“Your table will be ready in a few minutes.”

“What can I get you, mate?” Robert asked as Ben sat down.

He glanced at Aaron.

“I’ll have a beer too, thanks.” He turned to Aaron and shook his hand. “Hey. I’m Ben.”

The program changed to Ben’s intro video.

“My name is Ben, I’m 29, I work as a kayak instructor at an outdoor pursuits centre. I love my job but I’m looking for something or someone else to share some of that love with.”

“Pfft. I never get to see this when they record it. That’s just embarrassing.”

“It’s not that bad…” Aaron tried. “All of these introduction things are cheesy.”

“Yours isn’t. You’re cute.”

“Hmm… you’re biased.”

“Maybe. But I’ve seen a lot of these things and this is just cheesy. At least you were honest.”

“Not for long.” Aaron laughed and watched himself follow Ben to their table.

“Do you mind if I sit there? I like to face the entrance. It’s my thing. I like being in control.” The Aaron on screen asked when Ben was about to sit down.

Ben gave him a strange look but sat down at the other side and a waitress appeared to give them their menus.

“So,” Ben started. “What do you do for a living?”

“I own a scrapyard with my best friend.”

“A scrapyard? What is that?”

“We collect and sell scrap metal. Old cars, washing machines… anything made of metal that isn’t being used anymore.” Aaron explained and Ben nodded.

“And you can make a living on that?”

Aaron shrugged.

“We do alright. What about you? What do you do?”

“I work at an outdoor pursuits centre as a kayak instructor. I’ve always loved sports and this is as close to my dream job as it gets.” Ben said excitedly, not noticing Aaron was looking over his shoulder to the bar.

“Did you just… switch seats with him so you could look at me? You weren’t exactly subtle were you?”

Aaron blushed slightly.

“He didn’t notice. I never knew kayaking could be so boring. I’d rather listen to you talk about your nerdy superhero films than listen to that.”

“You said you liked those films!”

“They’re alright… but I just said it to get you in bed.” Aaron laughed and kissed his boyfriend. “And it worked.”

The other man laughed.

“And they say I’m the schemer.”

The show cut back to Aaron and Ben.

“I guess I always wanted that, you know? I think it’s important.”

“Hmm.” Aaron nodded, trying to make himself focus on Ben instead of Robert.

“So… did you always want to be a… scrap metal dealer?”

“What? Oh uh… no. Not exactly. I was just sort of… lost… after my last break up… and then my mate’s girlfriend gave us the idea and it seemed as good a plan as any. And now here we are.”

“What do you mean lost? Bad break up?”

“Yeah… you could say that… just didn’t work out. You know how it is.”

“Not really. I mean… I’m still friends with my ex. He’s my closest friend.”

Aaron raised an eyebrow.

“Really?”

Ben nodded.

“Yeah. I’m guessing that’s not the case with you?”

“No… one is dead and the other probably wishes I was.”

Ben choked on his food.

“I’m… I’m sorry… for your loss…”

Aaron shrugged.

“It’s a long time ago. I’d rather not talk about it to be honest… How’s your food?”

“Again, as subtle as a brick.” He wrapped an arm around Aaron’s shoulder and played with the hair at the nape of his neck. “That was Jackson, right? That you were talking about just now.”

“Yeah...” Aaron said, suddenly very focused on the couple on screen.

He dropped a kiss in Aaron's hair.

“Thank you for telling me about him.”

“I figured you should know why I made such a mess of well… everything in my life. Though Ed did text me happy birthday so I guess he doesn’t hate me that much anymore.”

“As long as he doesn’t think he can get back together with you. You’re mine now and I don’t share.”

“Do I get a say in this?”

“Nope.”

On screen Ben and Aaron were on their dessert and Ben still seemed oblivious to the fact his date was flirting with the barman instead of him.

“So, what do you look for in a guy? What’s your type?” Ben asked.

Aaron shrugged.

“I don’t know. I’m not really looking for anything serious… just someone I can have a laugh with, you know?”

Ben frowned.

“If you’re not looking for a relationship, then why did you sign up for this show? If you just want to get some action… there’s apps for that.”

Aaron raised an eyebrow.

“Who says I’m not looking for a relationship? I’m not looking for a serious meet the family, marriage and babies kind of thing. Not right away. I only met you an hour ago.”

Ben stared at him for a minute.

“Fair enough. So you do want that then? Marriage and babies and all that?”

“I don’t know. Never really thought about it.”

“Did he seriously ask about marriage on the first date?”

“Well I kind of mentioned it first.”

“Still. Who does that?”

“I don’t think I want kids to be honest. I know it’s supposed to be every gay man’s dream these days… but I like my active life and you can’t go for a survival weekend at a moment’s notice when you have a couple of kids running around.”

Aaron nodded.

“True. So the kayaking and stuff is important to you then?”

Ben smiled.

“Yeah. I could give you a lesson sometime if you like. I’ll tell them you’re my cousin or something and you’ll get a freebie.”

“Well I’m definitely not getting that now.”

“What do you mean?”

“This is going to be on tv, remember? If anyone you work with sees this, they’ll know I’m not your cousin.”

“Oh… right…” Ben turned red. “I uh… forgot about that.”

“But maybe I’ll take you up on the offer for a lesson. And I’ll just pay.” Aaron gave him a reassuring smile.

Next to Aaron his boyfriend snorted.

“What?”

“When is the wedding? Do I have time to go buy a hat?”

Aaron elbowed him in the stomach.

“Don’t be a dick.”

“Oh Benny-boo, I’d love a kayaking lesson from you.” The other man said in a silly voice, making Aaron laugh.

“I felt bad for the guy! He just made a tit of himself on national tv.” He turned to face him. “And you have no reason to be jealous of him. You know how this ends.”

“I’m not jealous.”

“Funny way of showing.”

On screen the elderly couple were on their dessert too and seemed to really like each other.

“Are they going out again?” Aaron asked.

“I don’t know. They don’t show us the final thing before it airs on tv. They left together though.”

The program changed to a guy and a girl in their 20s who seemed to be having an even worse date than Aaron.

“They hated each other. I thought they were going to kill each other if the date lasted any longer.”

“I don’t remember seeing them…”

The other man shook his head.

“They weren’t on the same day as you. Looks like they just edited two days together. Us staff always look the same anyway in our uniforms.”

The program cut back to Aaron and Ben, showing Aaron seductively sucking the ice cream from his spoon while never breaking eye contact with Robert.

Though Ben was as oblivious as ever and still seemed to think Aaron was looking at him.

“I had a really nice time tonight.” Ben said, finishing the last of his dessert. “I feel we really hit it off.”

Aaron gave him a smile, barely paying attention to him.

“Yeah. For sure.”

The focus shifted to another couple arguing over who should pay the bill, before cutting to Aaron and Ben again.

“I can pay my own way.” Aaron insisted. “Let’s just split it 50/50.”

“It’s ok. I want to. You can pay next time.”

The camera focused on Aaron who had an uncomfortable look on his face, while Ben paid the bill.

“I slipped a 20 into his pocket when he wasn’t looking.” Aaron commented. “I couldn’t let him pay for everything.”

The setting changed from the restaurant to the little studio they’d recorded their intro videos in. Aaron and Ben were sitting side by side, facing the camera.

“I had a really good time. I really feel like we had that click.” Ben said happily, smiling at Aaron. “I’d like to go out again and get to know you better.”

Aaron bit his lip and looked anywhere but at Ben.

“I uh… had a good time too. You’re a nice guy… easy to talk to… but… I don’t think it would work between us. I’d like to have a drink with you again sometime… but just as mates. Sorry…”

Ben swallowed.

“Right. Well… I’ve got enough mates.”

A breaking heart filled the screen and as it disappeared two different people sat down in the studio.

The elderly couple, as well as the two girls agreed to meet up again for another date and the boy and girl didn’t even make it to the studio as the girl had gotten up and left halfway through the meal.

The couples were all shown leaving the restaurant and saying goodbye at the door.

“So… see you around then?” Aaron asked Ben.

“I don’t think so. I’m not looking for mates.” He said and left.

The camera focused on Aaron who seemed lost. He looked around and mumbled something under his breath and walked back inside.

“Did you forget something?” the maître d asked him.

“Yes. Kind of.”

“Can I help you with anything?”

“No thanks. I can handle it.” Aaron said and walked up to the bar where Robert was cleaning up.

“Hi.”

“Hey…” Robert said, slightly confused. “Is there a problem?”

Aaron shook his head.

“That depends.”

“On what?”

“On whether or not you’re into guys. And single. And would like to go out with me sometime. On a date.”

Robert smiled and leaned on the bar.

“What would you say if I said yes to all of those?”

Aaron didn’t say anything, just grabbed a fistful of Robert’s shirt and pulled him close and kissed him. Robert happily kissed him back.

“What time do you finish?” Aaron asked when they broke the kiss.

Robert glanced at his watch.

“In about an hour.”

Aaron sat down at the bar.

“Guess I’ll be waiting an hour then.”

The two of them smiled at each other while at the bottom of the screen an update appeared.

“Aaron and Robert went out together after the program and have been together ever since.”

“I still can’t believe you dumped a guy on national tv to hook up with another.” Robert commented as some ad for oven cleaner started on screen.

“It worked out pretty well for you, didn’t it?” Aaron replied.

“That it did.” Robert agreed. “You know I was secretly hoping it wouldn’t work with you and that Ben guy. I thought you were cute and I was wondering if I could get away with getting your number while on shift.”

“So do you always pick up guys while serving drinks then?”

“Only the ones stuck on boring dates with kayak instructors.”

Aaron laughed and turned his attention to his phone as it rang.

“Hi mum.” He sighed.

“The barman?! What was wrong with that Ben lad? He seemed nice!”

“He was nice.”

“So why didn’t you go out with him? He liked you!”

“Yeah well…” Aaron looked at Robert who looked at him like he was his whole world. “Let’s just say I got a better offer.”

#robron #robron fic #robert sugden #aaron dingle #my writing #warning for kayak boy

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murasaki-murasame · 3 years

Text

Thoughts on Higurashi Gou Ep11

*Rika voice* we poppin’ the BIGGEST bottles next week when we successfully tear apart fate and reclaim our happy ending! :)

Anyway, thoughts under the cut.

I think we can all agree that there’s no way in hell this is going to go as smoothly as this episode wants us to think it will, when we still have 13 episodes left to go before this all ends, lol.

Obviously this won’t play out exactly the same as Minagoroshi, but even Minagoroshi ended with everyone getting brutally murdered because they didn’t actually manage to achieve the proper win condition, so going into this type of scenario was never really a good sign anyway.

And yeah on that note, this episode takes a hard swerve into full on Minagoroshi mode, which I figured might happen, but not in such a 1:1 way. But the fact that it’s suddenly lining up so much with that arc just makes me even more suspicious that we’re being given a false sense of hope.

Obviously the bottom line is that one way or another, this isn’t Minagoroshi, it’s Tataridamashi, and the overall situation is distinctly different. Like how Ooishi is on bad terms with Keiichi this time around, unlike in Minagoroshi, so they’re probably going to have a much harder time getting the large-scale protesting done if he decides not to help them. Which might also lead to the Sonozaki family refusing to help them either.

I also get the feeling that even if Keiichi has been successfully convinced by his dream to not murder Teppei, it still feels like both Rena and Shion are on the brink of going off the deep end, and if their attempts to handle the situation via peaceful protesting gets shut down by the cops this time, that might push them over the edge.

And even though I have mixed feelings about the ‘Satoko culprit theory’, I’m becoming increasingly convinced that the big twist of this arc will be that Teppei already got murdered off-screen by Satoko before anyone else could get to him, and she’s been lying about it.

Specifically I don’t like the idea of her being some kind of villain who’s intentionally and maliciously lying about being abused to get away with murder, but I think it’d make a lot of sense if we find out that Satoko did something like accidentally overdose Teppei with his medication, or push him down a flight of stairs in an abrupt fit of her syndrome, and then afterward she might enter the stage we saw in Tatarigoroshi where she straight up hallucinates that he’s still alive. So even if he’s dead, she might not be intentionally lying about it.

I can at least imagine a scenario where the gang [or at least part of the gang] gets fed up once and for all and breaks into Teppei’s house to murder him, but they find his corpse instead. And in a Tatarigoroshi type of way, maybe Satoko will see them and assume that they’re the ones that killed him, and everything will go to shit.

Then there’s also the whole separate question of what’s going on with Takano and Tomitake, and the statue in the Saiguden, and so on. We should at least get some more clues about that stuff before the question arcs end.

This episode is also making me even more confused about how much Rika actually knows about what’s going on, and what arcs she actually remembers. She seems to directly quote Keiichi from Minagoroshi in this episode [I think], but even in the VN they stated that she completely forgot what happened in that arc, and Hanyuu had to tell her about it later.

But her being more active in this episode and thinking that they actually have a shot at winning this is kinda just making it even more strange that she hasn’t said or done anything about the Takano situation. Especially since the entire deal with Minagoroshi in the first place was that they assumed dealing with Teppei in a timeline where neither Rena or Shion go L5 was enough to get a happy ending, but then Takano came around and killed everyone. So the fact that she seems to have basically the exact same mentality she had in Minagoroshi after Keiichi convinced her she could change fate makes it feel like she’s in the exact same position of thinking that Takano isn’t important.

And then there’s the fact that in ep2 she talks about ‘knowing who kills Furude Rika’ and how they all achieved their happy ending, so really there’s just a lot of conflicting information going on here, lol. I honestly can’t tell if it’s intentional, or if it’s literally just weird writing and Rika is acting ‘out of character’ because having her immediately reveal the Takano situation would spoil new fans.

I can’t exactly deny that it might just be a weird writing issue that we shouldn’t think much about, but I think it’s more interesting to try and think about what it could mean if this apparent contradiction in Rika’s level of knowledge and her actions in Gou thus far is actually intentional and meaningful.

I haven’t entirely ironed out my theory about this yet, but my current idea is that the whole meta-structure of Gou is that it’s basically a series of fictional stories created by Rika and Featherine together after the events of Matsuribayashi, and the Rika we see in Gou is effectively just a fictional character in this story who doesn’t actually align fully with Rika from the VN.

Specifically I think that Gou’s whole story is basically written from the premise of being a what-if fanfiction of sorts, where the Rika we see in Gou is more or less based on Rika’s character as of the end of Meakashi, or maybe Tsumihoroboshi. So she starts off in Gou at the point where she’s already figured out the basic rules of the gameboard, but doesn’t actually know about Takano, and also hasn’t experienced in any timelines where they successfully deal with Teppei, and she maybe also hasn’t seen any of her friends start to remember past timelines yet.

And I think the way they might explain what we see Rika say in ep2 of Gou is that Tataridamashi is actually the first arc chronologically in Gou, and it might with a deceptively happy ending where everyone on paper gets their happy ending, and everyone even survives long enough for Rika to go to high-school, but then she winds up dead there, and it’s after that point that Rika wakes up in ep2.

I don’t even necessarily think this would be incompatible with the idea of this arc going off the deep end and going in a more tragic direction. Maybe Teppei does end up dying one way or another, but everyone else survives, not even Satoko goes L5, and Teppei’s murder gets successfully covered up and everyone just goes back to living their lives. And because of whatever’s clearly been changed behind the scenes with Takano, the GHD never happens, so everyone just assumes they managed to achieve their happy ending by killing Teppei. But then Rika ends up dying a few years later in high-school anyway, in a way that ties into whatever the actual mystery of Gou is that all the characters are missing. At the very least I think teenage Satoko is gonna end up being the one to kill teenage Rika, and I could easily see that happening in a timeline where Teppei dies and she doesn’t immediately go off the deep end, but still has psychological scarring that nobody is fully aware of or properly deals with. So maybe she ends up becoming secretly resentful of Rika and all of her friends, blaming them for what happened, and she winds up killing Rika because of it.

I think this would actually pretty neatly explain the apparent contradiction of Rika talking about ‘knowing who killed her’ and ‘getting her happy ending’, while coming across like she genuinely doesn’t understand what’s actually going on. Her wording to Hanyuu in ep2 was always intentionally vague, but instead of just being about hiding the truth from new fans, maybe it was a multi-layered twist where what she’s talking about is totally different to what VN readers assume she means. Maybe the happy ending she meant was Tataridamashi, with everyone killing Teppei, and the person who kills her is Satoko.

She did act like she knows who kills her in *every* timeline, but if Rika in this arc is effectively pre-Minagoroshi, and this ends with a version of events where Takano never kills anyone and the GHD never happens, and it’s Satoko who kills Rika, that might lead Rika to falsely assume that her death in at least most of the timelines is just a result of Satoko going L5 and killing her.

Gou’s whole deal seems to be based on the idea that Rika is acting on false information, so I think it’d make sense if we find out that the truth she talked so confidently about knowing in ep2 was totally misleading.

One thing I’ve also been considering that might support this is that we see what at least seems to be teenage Satoko in the OP, but given that they’re going to change the show’s subtitle for the second half, they might change the OP too, which would imply that we’ll see teenage Satoko before this arc ends. Which makes me think that there’ll be some kind of timeskip epilogue at the end of the arc, and it’d be pretty likely at that point for that to be the big pivotal thing that happened with Rika as a teenager.

It’d also just flow better for new fans if the timeskip stuff with them in high-school takes place after one of Gou’s arcs, rather than Matsuribayashi, since that’d be kinda confusing and make new fans feel like they’re missing out on vital information.

Either way, like most people I think most of Gou’s central mystery is going to revolve around Satoko, and I think ultimately it’s gonna boil down to the question of what it would truly take to ‘solve’ all of her personal problems, and whether or not just getting rid of Teppei would be enough. For one thing, I imagine this arc will also still leave Satoshi’s whereabouts completely up in the air, which is another bit of unresolved trauma for Satoko.

More broadly than that, though, I feel like the Gou gameboard is Featherine’s way of giving her own perspective on the original story of Higurashi, and being like ‘if I take control of the story and introduce a new element to get rid of Takano before she does anything, does that automatically mean that everyone will get their happy ending, or is it more complicated than that?’. And I think this arc might be the best representation of that, where everything seemingly goes well for everyone, and Takano seems to never do anything evil, but everything still goes to shit anyway because of the various issues that the main characters still have even if Takano is dealt with.

I’m not sure exactly what new elements Featherine could bring to the board, and how it could lead to Takano being dealt with in every arc, but it probably has to do with what Takano found in the Saiguden, and also the fact that Featherine herself literally appears in the Saiguden in the OP.

I won’t get into super explicit details about Umineko here, but I think that Umineko Ep5 gives a pretty good example of how a new author can take control of a gameboard and insert a new ‘piece’ in order to achieve some new goal.

Anyway, once we get into the second half, I think the next arc will basically just be a version of Meakashi that acts as Watadamashi’s answer arc. We’ll probably spend about three episodes on Shion and Satoshi’s whole backstory from Meakashi [mixed with some of the flashbacks from Matsuribayashi], and then the arc will end with showing Shion and Mion’s perspective on Watadamashi, which I don’t think would take very long if they just focus on showing what they were doing in some of the important scenes. And some of it still might be left a little intentionally ambiguous.

Then I think that either whether they label it as it’s own arc or just treat it as part of one big final arc, we’ll get around three episodes that show Onidamashi from Rena’s POV, which would basically serve as a substitute for Tsumihoroboshi, and we’ll finally get an explicit reveal of how Keiichi hallucinated part of their fight scene. It might play out in the exact same way, but I could also see it seeming like a 1:1 retelling of Onidamashi at first, that then diverts at the last minute by having Keiichi remember the truth of what really happened in Onidamashi after he invites Rena into his house, in time for him to talk her down from killing him. Then after that I think we’ll basically get Gou’s take on Matsuribayashi, where everyone properly tackles the real issues and mysteries going on, to achieve a proper happy ending.

I’m not really confident about a lot of this, but I think it all more or less makes sense, especially since I’ve been thinking for a while that Gou will probably end up being much more of a remake than a full on sequel.

And then in the final episode we might get a glimpse at the ‘outside world’ where Rika/Bern is going over Featherine’s manuscript version of Gou, to help explain the whole framing device.

Also, I’m still wondering if Lambda is gonna play into Gou’s story at all, going by how we’re more or less already dealing with Bern, and Featherine has shown up in the OP and will presumably come into play later on. It’d feel a bit weird to have those two show up but not Lambda.

I feel like it’d be much harder to provide context for her whole deal compared to those two, though, but if Gou is effectively a fictional story in-universe, then she doesn’t necessarily need to follow the same logic she did in the VN. She was technically already present [but unmentioned] in the VN as being the witch who provided Takano with her blessing of certainty, so maybe she’s going to do the same for Satoko here instead [and maybe her not providing Takano with her blessing within the context of Gou is part of how Featherine is ‘dealing with her’]. Maybe a post-Tataridamashi Satoko ends up making a deal with Lambda as a result of her years of unresolved trauma and whatnot. Maybe she wants to go back in time to stop herself [or her friends] from killing Teppei, and Lambda agrees to provide her with the power to turn back time.

And along those lines, I’m also wondering if that might be part of why the Saiguden statue’s hand is undamaged in Gou. We’ve seen how Satoko thinks that she got cursed when she did that, and that it caused everything in her life to go to shit, so maybe she specifically wants to go back in time to prevent that incident from happening. And like I’ve also theorized, maybe the statue is undamaged in the first two Gou arcs because they happen chronologically after this one, and start from the premise of Satoko avoiding that incident.

Anyway, this is a whole lot of wild speculation that might not turn out to be true at all, lol. For one thing, even though I think teenage Satoko will show up in this arc because she’s in the OP, I’m not sure if or even how Featherine might appear in this arc, and that might really take things in a whole new direction I can’t predict.

#murasaki rambles #higurashi #higurashi gou #this got longer than I planned but I've got lots of theories lol #I probably should have just made a separate post about them but oh well

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nymphadoratonqs · 4 years

Note

*pounds fists on table* quarantined wolfstar drabble! quarantined wolfstar drabble! (If the mood hits you, perhaps the prompt: Sirius should never be bored and away from James. It does Not End Well)

might not be exactly what you had in mind (it got... angsty? haha) but here we’ve got muggle!AU, quarantined wolfstar:

“I’m just…” Sirius makes a vague gesture with his hands, looking for the same packet of biscuits that’s currently in Remus’ hand. Their kitchen is messy and there’s a pile of unwashed dishes in the sink. The dishwasher broke a couple of weeks ago, but they can’t get anyone to come and fix it. “I’m not even hungry, I just think that I could eat, you know? Maybe we can bake another cake. Or bread! You should make some bread. You’re good at that–” Sirius keeps on talking as Remus munches on a biscuit, wondering if he should put the packet down and brew some coffee. Or put the kettle on for tea. Or take a shower – when was the last time he washed his hair? Fuck.

“You’re eating the biscuits right now, aren’t you?” Sirius looks at him like he’s just committed the utmost betrayal. Remus shrugs and refrains from sticking his tongue out, half-chewed biscuits and all. Maybe they’ve been showering less, but they need to keep the romance alive somehow.

“I hate you,” Sirius laughs and gets up from the floor, closing the cupboard door with his foot. He’s subtle about it, at least, and the cupboard survives the less than delicate treatment. He walks towards Remus, then, leaning against the kitchen counter and watching him eat. It would be offputting if Sirius wasn’t this – fuck, what’s the word for this? Remus asks himself, stuffing another biscuit in his mouth before Sirius can reach for the packet. He’s got more hobnobs stashed away in his nightstand, but Sirius doesn’t know that. It’s not like they can just run to the store and get more, and running out of biscuits would be a real tragedy.

“Did you eat all the dulce de leche, too? I swear I will divorce you if you did,” Sirius laughs again, turning to open the refrigerator. There’s the pot of stew they were too lazy to pack away into the small containers, the three different kinds of fruit juice, and the milk that may or may not be spoiled (they’ve got whole milk and semi-skimmed and also a bottle of skimmed milk that none of them drinks but it’s still there because James drinks skimmed and they can’t just serve him milk that’s got fat in it because it would be rude), but no dulce de leche.

“I don’t think divorce lawyers offices are considered essential services. You won’t get one until the pandemic’s over,” Remus smirks, tossing the jar in Sirius’ direction, trusting that he’ll catch it mid-air.

He does.

“I just want it to be over already,” Sirius huffs, grabbing a spoon from the nearest drawer. Remus knows where he’s going with that spoon, but he deserves it. Remus has been feeling the exact same way – it’s good that they’re together, and that none of them has been sacked, even though Remus’ pay has been cut in half, indefinitely. They’re not struggling, though – Sirius has his family’s money, and Remus will just have to take it, pride be damned. Remus watches Sirius eat a spoonful of dulce de leche straight from the jar and thinks of how he just wants this to be over soon, too.

“I get that, love,” he nods, then, and gets his own spoon from the dish rack.

Remus guides Sirius out of the kitchen, then, dulce de leche, biscuits and spoons in hand, and plops down on the sofa after checking to see if any of the cats are there. He’s made that mistake before and doesn’t intend to get clawed like that ever again.

“I hate feeling like there’s nothing I can do about things,” Remus says before sticking the spoon into the jar and twisting it around, passing the biscuits over to Sirius, who just joined him on the sofa. He appreciates the way Sirius always cuddles up to him, always sits as close as possible; personal space be damned. Before Remus can even think of how he’d rather be walking around and dropping CVs everywhere rather than letting Sirius support him, he’s got Sirius’ arm around his neck and one of Sirius’ legs over his own. The cat is next, then, the smarmy little bastard, always ready to nick a piece of whatever they’re eating.

“I hate being stuck here, yeah,” Sirius breathes out, popping a biscuit in his mouth next. “I hate that Prongs and Red are stuck at home with the sprog alone, and we can’t even take him out for a walk, you know? Feels like I’m letting them down.”

“You’re not letting them down,” Remus frowns. He turns to look at Sirius, then, shifts on his seat enough so that he’s sure Sirius can look him in the eye because he’s dead serious about this. “You’re doing exactly what you’re supposed to do. You’re keeping yourself healthy, keeping yourself safe. And you’re keeping them safe, too. We can’t have you going out to do fuck knows what crazy heroic shit and catching this thing.”

Sirius blinks as if Remus’ tone has startled him, and Remus wonders if he’s overreacting. It’s something he’s been wondering a lot these days. Is it overreacting to cry in the shower about a job he hasn’t even really lost? Is it overreacting to miss his mum and dad this much even though he doesn’t really see them all that often anyway? It was certainly overreacting to tear up at that rescue ducky video James sent them the other day and–

“I’m not gonna run away to go punch a virus in the face,” Sirius teases, and Remus laughs.

He laughs because that’s a ridiculous image – Sirius dressed like a medieval knight, attacking a giant cartoon virus with a sword. Sirius punching that same virus with those shiny brass knuckles he swears he’s used before. Sirius with a magical wand, firing hexes at the virus, as a wizard would.

“You would,” Remus laughs some more, shaking his head. He’s forgotten all about the dulce de leche, but he’s glad to see Sirius has put it down on the coffee table. Remus hopes the cats won’t get to it, but it’s only half-hearted because he cares about being kissed more than he cares about their sweets right now.

“Yes, yes, I’m your hero, you can say it,” Sirius chuckles before closing his eyes and kissing Remus on the lips. He tastes like dessert and still smells like cologne, even though Remus is pretty sure he hasn’t put on any in several days. They kiss slowly; first soft then deeply. They haven’t been in the mood for fooling around much these days, but it feels good to be touched like this; to have Sirius’ hands slide under his shirt – warm and dry and comforting.

“The cats are gonna eat your dulce,” Remus warns, fully aware that cat number two has jumped over the sofa and joined the first one in her quest for sweet, dairy goodness.

“I don’t care,” Sirius whispers, kissing him on the mouth again. So that’s that.

#remus lupin #sirius black #wolfstar #quarantine AU #how do i even tag this? haha

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randomfandomfamily · 4 years

Text

You know what Sonic likes? Long drives with his favorite Donut Lord.

You know what Sonic doesn’t like? Well, I’d be spoiling the story if I told you now. Read on, dear Tumblr folk, I hope you enjoy!

On an unrelated note, does anyone remember that one song by Post Malone? The one in the Spiderverse movie? Wonder what that was called…

Ever since almost dying on a road trip to San Francisco, Tom and certain a blue hedgehog took some time every couple of weeks to go take a drive. It was an unofficial tradition, and Maddie understood that it was kind of just a them thing.

Sometimes they picked out a destination and sometimes they didn’t. Honestly it was just fun to hang out with Sonic for a few hours and drive aimlessly. Gave them a chance to talk and let Sonic see a little more of Earth without potentially exposing himself.

It wouldn’t seem like much fun to most people, but most people hadn’t been living in fear and total isolation for years. A crooked road sign could entertain Sonic for five minutes, laughing and speculating what happened and wondering if he should fix it and ‘oh my god did someone paint on that one?’.

So yeah. It was usually pretty great.

Sonic pushed the buttons on the radio absently. “Any destination in mind?”

“Nah,” Tom replied as he batted Sonic’s hand away from the radio controls. “Think we’re just gonna drift for a while and see what we come across.”

“Sounds good. I’m always up for an adventure.” Sonic sat back in his seat. “So long as I can hop out every now and then.”

Tom gave him a warning glance. “Give me a heads up first.”

Sonic waved his hand flippantly. “Yeah yeah, I know. I promise I will not jump out the window without permission.” He started rolling down the window. “But just in case, I’m-”

“Nope,” Tom said. “Roll that back up.”

“I’m not gonna jump out.” He took his hands off the controls. “Halfway down. Deal?”

Tom narrowed his eyes. “Okay, halfway down, but not any further than that.”

“You got it, Donut Lord.” Sonic drummed his fingers the door. “You know, these trips are really cool. Because the world is, like, huge. And we only drive for a few hours, but you could see a lot in a few hours, and there’s still so much more to see later, you know?”

“Yeah, Earth’s a pretty big place,” Tom agreed. “You never really run out of new experiences here.” He took a left at the next intersection.

They usually took a right to heads toward a highway that could take them pretty far in a short amount of time, but Tom decided to take a scenic route. Sonic seemed more restless than usual, so he’d probably need to take a run soon. The highway wasn’t a good place for that.

“I mean, just think: there are whole other continents,” Tom said, “You could explore every inch of this mass of land we’re on and still have six other ones you could explore.”

Sonic tilted his head thoughtfully. “Yeah… I’m not so sure I’d want to explore Antarctica though. It’s cold there.”

“You know the continents?” Tom asked. “No offense, but I kinda figured that you didn’t have an education.”

“I don’t,” said Sonic. “But classrooms have windows, and there was stuff I wanted to know. Like reading? I definitely learned to read by hanging around outside a classroom.”

That’d be kinda creepy if it was coming from anyone other than Sonic. “That makes sense. Probably helps to know the language of the strange planet you’re on. Is our language written differently than yours?”

Sonic shrugged. “I mean, probably, but I never learned to read on my planet either, so I don’t really know what it was like.”

“You couldn’t read?” Tom asked. “Geez, how old were you? Four?”

“Somewhere around there, yeah.” Sonic’s brow furrowed in thought. “Or maybe I was three. Yeah, I think it was three. I was kinda preoccupied with surviving, so my memory’s a little hazy.”

Honestly, Tom wasn’t expecting a yes. “Oh. Um… that’s pretty young to be stranded on an alien planet.”

“I guess. It was better than the alternative though.” He tapped on the window. “Can I uh…?”

Tom slowed down a little. “Sure, go for it.” Sonic rolled down the window and zipped out of the truck. He checked the rearview to make sure Sonic couldn’t be seen from the road. Green Hills might be okay with Sonic, but they agreed they’d be a little more cautious with the rest of the world. For now, anyway.

After maybe thirty seconds, Sonic was back in his seat. “It’s really pretty around these parts. Lots of places to run around.” He went back to messing with the radio. Tom let him. It looked like it was gonna empty fields for a while and the radio was keeping Sonic occupied.

The roads were mostly straight and, aside from the few cars that passed by them earlier, empty. So Tom took the opportunity to gaze around. It seemed vaguely familiar but he didn’t know why. Maybe fields were just like that.

And, as he suspected, there were a lot of them. Some had crops growing. A few with tractors sitting idly in the middle of them. Every so often they’d even come across a pasture of horses.

They’d been driving for a while when Sonic said, “Hey, Donut Lord? You know I can see the horses too, right?”

Tom blinked at him. “Yeah. Why?”

“You keep… doing a thing. Every time we pass a field with some horses in you say something like, ‘Oh, wow, look at the horses’ or ‘Hey there’s horses over there’.”

“Oh. It’s just something people do while they’re driving,” Tom explained. “It’s, like, mandatory to acknowledge horses. And cows.”

“Why?”

“Well, it’s-” His brain short-circuited. “Uh…” Why did people do that?

“It’s… what?” Sonic looked confused. “Is there not a reason?”

Tom, completely baffled, admitted, “You know, I don’t think there is. I don’t know why we do it, we just do.”

“That’s weird,” Sonic told him.

“You’re not wrong.” A hill in the distance caught Tom’s eye. He squinted at it, then he remembered why this stretch of road seemed familiar to him. “Oh… oh, no way.”

“What?” Sonic asked. “Is it another horse?”

Tom grinned. “Nope, but it’s gonna be something cool.” He started to pull off onto the shoulder. “And also pretty.”

“Cool and pretty?” Sonic took off his seatbelt. “Consider me sold.” They hopped out of the truck. “So where is it?”

“Up the hill,” Tom said. “Stay here a sec. I just wanna make sure it’s still there.”

A few years ago, he’d gotten lost in these backroads. He’d climbed the hill to see if he could recognize anything from a higher vantage point. It didn’t work because he was in the middle of nowhere, but what he did find was a field of sunflowers.

He’d meant to come back, maybe show Maddie someday. Then he completely forgot about it. Hopefully it was still there. The odds of an entire field of flowers dying out was pretty slim, but not entirely impossible, and he didn’t want to drag Sonic all the way up there if the flowers were gone. Not that it’d be any trouble for him, he’d be there and back before Tom took two steps.

Luckily, the sunflowers were still there, just as bright and yellow as he remembered them. They were in orderly rows, so it was obviously owned by someone. That meant they couldn’t go in the field, but they could admire it from a distance. Sonic was pretty easy to impress anyway. He probably wouldn’t need to be surrounded by the sunflowers to be amazed.

Tom waved for Sonic to join him and there was a blue streak at the top of the hill before he could even put his hand down.

“Here it is! We can’t go in the field, but we can go get a closer look.” Tom started down the other side of the field. “These are sunflowers. And they’re probably the biggest flowers you’re ever gonna see. Seriously. Some of the flowers are bigger than my head and the stems are… “

He realized Sonic hadn’t run ahead of him yet, which was strange. Looking back to the top of the hill, he could see that Sonic hadn’t so much as moved, his eyes fixed on the field.

Tom chuckled. “What’s the matter? Intimidated by the giant sun plants?” He thought that’d snap Sonic out of whatever trance he was in, but he was still staring blankly. “Sonic?”

Sonic not being excited about seeing some new Earth thing was… kind of concerning. He was usually bouncing off the walls about this kind of stuff. Tom walked back up the hill, thinking maybe he had said something that made Sonic upset, but he had no idea what it could have been.

“You okay?” Tom asked.

“I don’t wanna go down there,” Sonic said.

There was a slight quiver to his voice that made Tom immediately kneel at Sonic’s side. “Hey buddy, it’s okay. We don’t have to go down there if you don’t want to.”

“I don’t.” He took a couple of steps back. “I really really don’t.”

“Sonic,” Tom reached out to put a hand on his shoulder. “Are you oka-”

“Don’t!” Sonic recoiled so hard that he nearly fell backwards. “Don’t touch me, just… s-stay back.”

Tom stood slowly. “Do you wanna go back to the truck?”

Sonic’s gaze darted around. “I need to- I have to go, I-”

“No,” Tom said gently, “You don’t need to run, remember? I’m here to help.”

“Help?” Sonic asked. “I- no? I’m not…” Giving the field another panicked glance, he took a step back. “She wasn’t supposed to… it was my fault…”

Tom moved to block Sonic’s view of the flowers. This wasn’t the first time something like this had happened. Sonic was probably the most upbeat kid Tom had ever met, but there were times when the years he spent alone broke the surface.

He and Maddie weren’t sure what to do the first time it had happened. There wasn’t always a conventional solution. Sometimes all he needed was a hug, other times he was so overwhelmed that just wouldn’t work.

They figured out that it was always best to just ask before doing anything. “Lil Blue, I need you to tell me how to help. Do you want a hug? Need to talk?”

Sonic instantly looked more terrified than he already was. “No.”

“No hug or no talking?” Tom asked.

“Yes. I mean no! I mean…” Sonic shook his head. “I don’t know.”

Tom tried again. “Can you tell me what’s wrong?”

Sonic shook his head. “You’ll h-hate me if I do.”

“No I won’t,” Tom reassured him.

“How do you know that?” Sonic demanded. “Y-you don’t even know what I did.”

“There is nothing you could do that could make me hate you.” Tom held out a hand. “Wanna go back to the truck now? We can head home if you want.”

Sonic looked past Tom for a moment, then nodded. “Okay… yeah, home sounds… nice.” He took Tom’s hand and they made their way back down the hill. There was a car that passed by, but Sonic was safely in his seat by then and Tom was getting ready to start the truck.

They drove in silence for a few minutes while Tom looked for a place to turn around. Tom didn’t ask Sonic to talk about what happened. The last time he and Maddie tried to force him to talk about something, it had resulted in him running. Not exactly what he needed right now.

“I wasn’t supposed to leave home.”

Tom was silent. Sonic rarely opened up about anything. The last time this happened, there was a massive storm that sent him spiraling into a panic attack. It took an hour before he was calm enough to talk, and even then he didn’t really say much.

“Longclaw would go outside with me sometimes. It wasn’t very often, but she only did it so I’d be safe.”

Now Tom was really making sure to keep quiet. Because as rarely as Sonic talked about his past, the thing he talked about the least was Longclaw. Were Tom and Maddie curious about her? Of course they were. Did Sonic flinch every time they mentioned her? Every single time.

“Longclaw, protected me. But I’m… you know, kinda reckless… and really stupid.” Tom wanted to argue that Sonic was most definitely not stupid, but he was still going with silence for now. “So one day, while she was asleep, I uh… I went outside.

“I shouldn’t have, and I knew that…” He grabbed his seatbelt like it was a lifeline. “I was just gonna go out and come right back in, I wasn’t even gone for that long.”

Tom spotted a driveway up ahead and pulled in to turn around.

“I came back. And I thought that… I thought everything was fine.” Sonic went silent for so long that Tom thought that he had stopped talking entirely. “Until they showed up. They chased us, they shot her out of the sky.”

Turning the truck around, Tom started heading for Green Hills. He wished he could text Maddie to prepare her for the emotional kiddo he was about to bring home.

“They were after me. And they never would have found her if I… if I had just.” He took a shaky breath. “She told me to go to Earth. That someone would always want my powers and I could never stop running.”

Well, that explained where the ‘I’m not allowed to have friends’ mindset came from.

“And I went through the portal. Can you believe it? I actually left.” Sonic shook his head. “I saw them, with bows and arrows and nets a-and spears and they were just running towards her and… I couldn’t leave her, so I tried to go back-” His voice broke. “But I wasn’t… fast enough. The portal closed before I could get to her.”

Tom could hear the tears in his voice and it was taking all of his willpower not to reach over and hug Sonic as tightly as he could.

“And you wanna… y-you wanna know what was s-so important?” Sonic managed. “I wanted to bring Longclaw a freaking flower.” He buried his face in his hands. “I-it was a little yellow f-flower, with a… a black center and I th-thought she’d like it.

“I never should’ve left her, Tom.” A choked sob escaped him as he cried, “It’s not fair, it should’ve been me.”

Now, Tom felt like he had earned the right to say that not much could rattle him. He’d befriended an alien, punched a government official, became a wanted criminal, participated in a bar fight, had his truck totaled by robots, fell off a building, helped send a mad scientist flying through a portal to a planet full of mushrooms, and that all happened within the span of two days. Safe to say there wasn’t much that could faze him at this point.

But that last sentence? That got to him. Sonic was thirteen.

Now was probably the time to say something. “Sonic,” Tom said in an even tone, “I don’t want you to say anything like that ever again.” The kid didn’t run, so he took that as a sign that it was safe for him to continue. “I can’t–and I won’t–deny that what happened was bad.

“And I’m not going to tell you that it’s gonna get better, because I don’t know that. I can’t pretend to know how that feels.” Truthfully, Tom couldn’t even begin to imagine it. He didn’t want to. “But I know it feels bad. And it’s going to feel bad, because that’s how feeling works.

“But it is not fair to blame yourself like that,” Tom told him firmly. “You can’t keep beating yourself up for a mistake that happened years ago.”

Sonic scowled. “But I got her killed.”

“Were you holding a spear?” Tom asked. “No? Then you didn’t kill her.”

“I should have done something!” Sonic shouted.

“You were three!” Tom responded with equal volume. Normally he wouldn’t yell, but this needed to be fixed, and it was getting fixed now. “Sonic, you can’t keep blaming yourself for a mistake that any kid would make.

“Everybody breaks a rule every now and then. Especially kids. You were a super-powered toddler who was essentially under house arrest for powers that you didn’t ask for. I can’t blame you for wanting to go outside for a few minutes, and I refuse to let you blame yourself.

“Bad things happen. But you walking outside did not kill Longclaw. Some assholes, who thought it was okay to hunt down a child, killed her. For no good reason.” His tone softened. “But like I said, I know that doesn’t make it suck any less and you’ve got every right to be upset. Just… don’t say something like that again, okay? It makes me worry.”

Sonic hesitated. “I… okay.” He pulled his knees up to his chest and stared out the window.

Tom, worried he’d gone overboard, asked, “You think you’re gonna be alright?”

He shrugged. “I mean, probably? I don’t know, it’s just… no one’s ever worried about me like that before. Not since Longclaw. Sounded like something she’d say though.”

“She sounds pretty smart.”

“Well, she was an Owl. So… yeah. Pretty smart.” Sonic fiddled with the window controls. “But, you know, you’re pretty smart too.” He cleared his throat. “And I uh… I’m sorry for freaking out about the… flowers.”

Tom patted his shoulder. “Don’t apologize. Everybody’s got their moments.”

“They just looked so much like the flowers from my island, except they were way bigger. Which was… scarier somehow. Like they were threatening me.” He glanced at Tom nervously. “Is that dumb?”

“Of course not,” Tom said. “Stuff like this just happens. You don’t get to pick what sets it off, or when.” He smiled. “But you know what we can do?”

Sonic tilted his head. “What?”

“We can go home to Pretzel Lady, then sit on the couch with way too many blankets and watch a movie.”

The kid managed a smile. “It’s not cold outside.”

“Hey,” Tom said, “There’s never a bad time for comfy blankets.”

“Whatever you say, Donut Lord.” The smile faded just as quickly as it appeared. That was fine. Tom didn’t expect his mood to improve immediately.

It was a while before they got back home, and Sonic hadn’t so much as touched the controls on the radio. He parked the truck and opened up the door, pausing for a moment to look over at Sonic.

Still hadn’t moved.

Tom walked over to the other side of the truck and opened the passenger side door. “Wanna lift?”

Sonic blinked, barely registering the question. “Huh?”

“Yeah, okay, c’mere kid.” Tom scooped up Sonic and closed the door. Sonic looked bewildered at first, then he relaxed and let himself be carried inside.

It wasn’t even hard to hold him. He was tiny. Tom wondered how small Sonic might’ve been when he was younger. How little was at age ten? Or five? Or even three, when he had first arrived here?

Maddie was just coming down the stairs when they walked in. “Hey boys! You’re home early.” She noticed Sonic in Tom’s arms. “Everything okay?”

Tom gave her a look that said he’d explain in a minute, then smiled at Sonic. “Why don’t you go pick a movie, huh?”

Sonic nodded and jumped to the floor. Maddie watched him leave with increasing worry. “Is he okay?” She asked once he was safely in the living room. “He didn’t even run.”

He ushered her into the kitchen. “We had a rough ride. Got something else to add to the ‘List of Things that Freak Sonic Out to All Hell’.”

Her expression became serious. “What is it?”

“Sunflowers.” He stopped her before she could say anything. “I’ll explain later, I promise, but the kid’s not having a great time at the moment. So I’m gonna grab some blankets-”

“And I’ll help him pick a movie,” Maddie finished. “Because it’ll take him forever to pick one himself.”

Tom gave her a quick kiss on the cheek. “You’re amazing, you know that?”

She rolled her eyes. “You may have mentioned it before.” Shoving him gently, she added, “Now get us some blankets, it’s movie time.”

He made the usual rounds around the house to gather up blankets. This was probably going to be one of their quieter movie nights, since Sonic was clearly in no mood to be his usual rambunctious self. And he still had no idea how he was going to explain all of this to Maddie later.

But he could cross that bridge when he got there.

Maddie was already putting on a movie when he got back, and Sonic was sitting quietly on the couch. Tom dumped the blankets on him unceremoniously. “So! What are we watching?”

Sonic unburied himself from the pile of blankets. “Something Maddie picked. The Incredibles, I think.”

“Really?” He plopped down on the couch and helped spread out the blankets. “No Keanu?”

“Nope,” Maddie said as she sat down on the other side of Sonic. “He hasn’t seen this one yet. Figured it’d be fun. Plus, I think there’s a character I think he’ll really like.” Dash, of course.

Tom tossed her some blanket. “Sounds good to me.”

Thankfully, Sonic seemed a little less upset as the movie progressed, even laughing about halfway through. But that didn’t stop Tom and Maddie from glancing at him every few minutes or so just to make sure.

He didn’t know when their next drive would be, but he hoped that it didn’t end like this one had. The three of them with a movie? Yes, absolutely. That was about the only good outcome of the trip.

But they’d definitely be avoiding that stretch road from then on.

#sonic the hedgehog the movie #sonic the movie #tom wachowski #sonic wachowski #maddie wachowski #i wrote a lil fic a while back #with some sonic and maddie bonding time #now it's tom's turn #random disaster writes

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nothingeverlost · 3 years

Text

Donut (Penny for Your Thoughts verse, Rumbelle)

@halfwayinlight I thought I would have this up for Christmas. Sorry it’s a tad late.

It’s a quarantine Christmas vacation

“I’ll see you after the new year.” David gave her a hug before he left the office, catching the elevator with Graham and Emma. They were all headed for his house, where Emma would pick up her son.

“Give Mary Margaret and Neal my love, and tell her that when she gets tired of you there’s always an empty room above our garage,” she teased. Though it was a joke she would miss him. They’d been sharing Archie’s apartment for months now, and though they both longed for their families it had been an interesting bonding experience, bringing them even closer.

Belle only lingered a few minutes extra in the office, leaving a few surprises in Ariel’s desk for her to find. While the rest of the team was taking the month of December off, to spend time with their quarantined families, Ariel had volunteered to liaise with the team temporarily taking their place. Belle was pretty certain the decision had been at least influenced by the agent in charge of the team, Eric del Mar. The first time they’d met in the cafeteria Ariel had been so flustered she’d accidentally stolen a fork. She still kept it in her desk, jokingly calling it her lucky dinglehopper.

With one last look around to make sure she hadn’t forgotten anything - a month was a long time to be away from work - Belle headed for the elevator and punched the button to take her up to the lobby. Her bags were in the back of the car; it was the first time since September she’d been home. Not being there for Thanksgiving had been hard, but knowing she would get the whole month for Christmas had made up for it.

Archie’s car was in the carport, leaving her spot in the garage free. Belle hoped he’d only moved out of her space recently; it was silly not to use it when she was gone, not that Archie would be driving much. The sound of the garage door meant she couldn’t hope to surprise anyone, but it didn’t matter when the door opened and Claire raced out to greet her.

“Mommy.” She was barely out of the car when her daughter jumped the last few feet, certain that she would be caught. Belle scooped her up, hugging her tight. She needed a million hours of cuddles to make up for missed time. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too, baby.”

“You can’t go in the kitchen ‘cause it’s a surprise, but papa said that if you’re hungry I should show you the cuter board in the living room. Uncle Archie let me help with the crackers and the grapes but not with the cheese ‘cause the knife is sharp.” When she put Claire down her daughter still stayed close.

“I think papa probably said it was a charcuterie board, but I like yours better.” She had to guess that it was Archie’s influence more than Gabe’s, unless he had somehow discovered pinterest and been way more bored then he let on. “Where is your papa sweetheart?”

“He had to take Donut outside so she could go potty.”

“I don’t think I understand.” She tried to puzzle out what Claire might mean about taking a donut outside. None of her toys, to Belle’s knowledge, were named donut.

“You will.” Bay chuckled as he came out of the kitchen, a towel tucked into his pants. He probably hadn’t grown at all in the past couple of months, she just wasn’t used to thinking of him as being that tall. When he hugged her her head fit neatly under his chin. “Welcome home.”

“I’m so glad to see you sweetheart. Thank you for all the videos, they brighten my day.” Bay had introduced the whole family to Tiktok, setting everyone up with private accounts. The rest of the team now had accounts, and shared videos, but Bay and Henry were responsible for most of the sharing. She was grateful for the multiple one minute videos she saw each day, and often rewatched, though Claire’s fascination with the fireplace had given her more than one moment of concern.

“Of course the damn dog would decide it needed to go out the moment you arrive home.” The back door slammed, letting in a cold breeze, her husband, and a dog. It was an odd looking thing that could only be classified as a mutt, with a reddish brown head that looked vaguely like a retriever and a body in gray and white that looked like it should belong to another dog entirely.

“Donut?” she guessed. Her attention only lingered on the dog for a moment. She was much more interested in the man crossing the room towards her. Almost three month since she’d been able to touch Gabe was almost criminal in her opinion. Someone should be arrested

“I can think of some names that would be more appropriate for the mutt but your daughter insisted.” She couldn’t answer, not with Gabe’s lips on hers and his hands at her waist. God she’d missed the taste of him. And the feel. And the smell.

“They’re kissing already,” she could hear Claire whisper loudly. “Do they have to take a really big breath like when you some swimming under water?”

“Something like that,” she could hear Bay reply with a chuckle.

“Hugs are better,” her daughter declared. Belle had to laugh at that, when the kiss ended.

“I like hugs too, sweetheart.” Gabe was wearing one of the sweaters they had picked up on their trip to Ireland last year, and the wool was soft against her skin. She wouldn’t mind standing just where she was for a while.

“Especially when less clothing is involved,” Gabe whispered in her ear. Bell elbowed him lightly in the ribs. That wasn’t fair; it would be hours before they could have that kind of alone time.

“So is anyone going to tell me about this new addition to the family?” No one had mentioned a dog on any of their calls, which were at least once a day.

“She was sleeping in Claire’s playhouse a few weeks ago. We made calls but no one seemed to be looking for her. The vet gave her a clean bill of health and a little snip snip so it looks like we are pet owners now.” Gabe groused, but couldn’t hide a smile when he looked down at his daughter gently petting the dog and whispering confidences in her ear. “She certainly is more comfortable sleeping on Claire’s bed.”

“I thought we should call her Goldilocks since she was in someone else’s house. Archie voted on Snow White for the same reason. But the short one had the final say so she’s Donut.” Bay shrugged. “I’m going to go check on things.”

“Things?” Belle asked as he headed for the kitchen, where she wasn’t allowed to go according to Claire. She assumed that he was helping with dinner; Archie had mentioned something about cooking lessons with Bay which was good, since Archie knew more about cooking than Gabe by quite a bit.

“Dinner, obviously, but I promised not to spoil the surprise by sharing the menu.” He tugged her towards the sofas, where the ‘cuter’ board was laid out on the coffee table along with an open bottle of Bordeaux. Belle sat on the sofa next to him but turned so her legs were across his lap.

“So you decided that a six year old, a college sophomore, and a full time roommate with his six computers wasn’t interesting enough, you added a dog to the mix?” She and Gabe were both relieved that Bay’s college was still doing online classes, and Archie being around made sense both for Archie not being alone and for help around the house, but it was a full house especially when both kids were home schooling, Archie was working from home and Gabe was working on a new book.

“It was snowing.” Gabe was full of bluster, but Belle knew that he’d been thinking about getting a dog anyway. In fact she was a little surprised it had taken so long, except that they had talked about waiting until Claire was old enough to have some of the responsibility. Gabe loved on every dog they saw at a crime scene. “She’s gentle with Claire.”

“You’re a marshmallow, Gabe Gold.” She kissed him on the cheek. “I am confused by the name, though.”

“It’s your fault, actually. You know how she loves stories about when you were pregnant, and how much you loved eclairs.”

“I always love eclairs, I just loved them a little more then.” And Gabe, bless him, had indulged her with early morning drives to the bakery, late night drives to the grocery store, and at least a few times special flavors overnighted from out of state bakeries.

“Most people would call it an obsession, sweetheart.” There were no eclairs on the charcuterie board, of course, but he did hand her a cracker topped with brie and raspberry habanero jelly. “You know how she likes to say that she is mommy’s favorite eclair.”

“She is my favorite.” It had been a joke at first, calling her baby a little eclair. She and Gabe had spent months debating baby names; sadly between the two of them there were many names that reminded them of cases they had worked and people they did not want sharing a name with their baby. It was a nurse who had misheard eclair and thought she was saying Claire, and the name had worked. She and Gabe both loved it.

“Claire reasoned that her favorite treat from the bakery is jelly donuts. Like mother, like daughter.”

“You can’t fault her logic.” Belle laughed, even more amused now that she understood the name. “I’ve heard worse names for a dog.”

“Bay says dinner in five.” Claire appeared a moment later, dog at her side. Belle scooped her up, holding her on her lap. It didn’t get much better than holding her little girl while cuddling with her husband.

“Good, because I’m very hungry.”

“I’m very hungry too, and Uncle Archie made…” Belle quickly put a finger to her daughter’s lips.

“Let’s let Bay and Archie have their secret for a little longer. They wanted dinner to be a surprise, remember?”

“I forgotted. I won’t say anything, okay? Papa says secrets are good sometimes like when Bay says something is a secret or when there’s presents under the tree. But sometimes secrets make you feel bad in your tummy and then you have to tell mommy or papa.” Claire nodded her head wisely, explaining back what had been explained to her.

“Papa’s right, sweetheart. You should always tell mommy of papa if someone wants you to keep a bad secret.” She hated thinking about anyone like that near her daughter, but she and Gabe knew too much about the kind of people that manipulated children. They’d talked a lot about how to keep their kids safe. “But this is a very good secret. Bay and Archie are making yummy food. And we know it must be yummy because they’re not letting your papa in the kitchen at all.”

“Hey, I can cook,” Gabe protested, though not with much vigor.

“You cook more than you did when I first met you, though that’s not saying a lot considering I think you spent at least five years using nothing more than the microwave and coffee pot.” While no one would call him a gourmet he could pull together a meal. Spaghetti was still his most often made dinner. Grilled cheese and tomato soup were a close second.

“That might be true but you could still spend tonight on the sofa if you don’t watch yourself.”

“That anxious to spend the night alone again?” She raised an eyebrow, teasing him back.

“Never again, if I had my way.” They kissed again, over their daughter’s head, only stopping when Archie coughed politely.

“Dinner’s ready.” Claire wiggled down first. Belle was slower, but when she stood she gave Archie a hug and a kiss on the cheek.

“We have so much to catch up on, Arch. We’re going to eat so much popcorn.”

“My tivo is full of things to marathon.” Their online marathon dates hadn’t been the same, and David had no appreciation for corny sci fi. “It’s been killing me not to watch Star Trek Lower Decks until you got here.”

“I can’t wait.” She followed Archie to the dining room, Claire holding her hand and Gabe right behind her. Bay was waiting next to the table which had been laid out in all the best china. In the center of the table was a platter of turkey meat. There was cranberry sauce and corn souffle and mashed potatoes, gravy and rolls, candied yams and green beans. It was a full Thanksgiving feast. “Oh!”

“We didn’t want you to miss Thanksgiving. Facetime Thanksgiving isn’t really the same.” Bay’s apron was covered in a million questionable stains, but Belle didn’t give a thought to her clothes before hugging him.

“I didn’t tell, Bay. Not even a little bit,” Claire proudly exclaimed. Bay picked her up.

“Of course you didn’t, Plum.” Bay set her on her chair. Next to her on the ground was a dog bed and a large bone. “Before eating remember that this is only possible because Archie taught me so if anything’s wrong it’s his fault.”

“It’s going to be perfect.” Belle say down between Gabe and Claire, holding both of their hands. “I am so thankful for all of you. My family.”

#verse: penny for your thoughts #rumbelle fic #my fic #halfwayinlight

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crystalninjaphoenix · 4 years

Text

Lost Night

Switch AU

Everything’s been peaceful for a while. Well, relatively. That’s all about to change here. Something happens, and let’s just say Anti freaks out a bit. And then something else entirely different happens, and he freaks out again. And the story is very long. I dunno, it’s late and I don’t know how to provide accurate summary without spoilers rn. It also gets kind of intense at some points when Anti breaks down. Anyway, hope you guys like it :)

More of this AU found here

“Hey Dad, I think I see their car.”

Anti looked down at Will pulling on the hem of his jacket, then looked back up again, following Will’s pointed finger down the road. It was about four in the afternoon, which meant there weren’t a lot of cars driving in the area, which made the familiar blue car stand out a lot more. “Yep, I think that’s them,” he said, waving.

The car pulled over to the side of the road, and the backdoor opened. “Will!” Michelle burst out, tackling her friend in a hug.

“Ack!” Will stumbled back from the force of it. “Dad, she’s strangling me!”

“No she’s not, Will,” Anti said, smiling a bit.

“I’m so glad to see you!” Michelle was happily oblivious to any trouble she might’ve caused.

“I just saw you yesterday!” Will said, dumbfounded.

The driver’s side window rolled down, and Rama stuck their head out. “Hey kids, why not talk in the car? We still need to drop you off before we head out.” They nodded in Anti’s direction. “Hey.”

“Hey,” Anti said back. “Yeah, c’mon, get inside. We’re already kinda late.”

The two kids climbed into the back, and Anti walked around to get into the passenger side. As they headed out, Michelle piped up. “Why can’t we come too?” she asked, whining a bit.

Rama sighed gently. “We told you, it’s for grown-ups.”

“But it’s a birthday party, isn’t it? I want to go to a birthday party.”

“You just had a birthday party yesterday,” Rama said teasingly. “And you won’t be getting presents at this one.”

“Oh! That reminds me!” Michelle suddenly leaned across the middle seat and stuck a stuffed animal in Will’s face. “Look what Ren and Dad got me! After the party ended and you left and everything.”

“Oh!” Will leaned back, getting a better look at the stuffed animal. “Is that...one of those Beanie Baby bears that are kinda hard to get?”

“My teacher has one in her room, and ever since I saw it, I really really liked it,” Michelle chattered. “So I kept asking and asking and Ren and Dad got me one!”

Anti chuckled a bit, glancing over at Rama. “So. How much did that cost?”

“Not that much,” Rama said defensively.

“Alright, Little Mx. Money to Spare,” Anti laughed, settling back in the car seat. “Hey, how’s Jackie doing?”

Rama paused. “Better. Still living with Henrik, we’ll meet the two of them there. But we talk almost every day online, and Michelle seems to understand.”

“Good.” Anti nodded. He wasn’t exactly sure about it, but he thought that maintaining contact was a good way to keep up a romantic relationship. Just like a friendship. Even though he did have a bad habit of suddenly going silent in his own friendships...but he’d been doing much better at it. Case in point, actually going to this ‘party’ even if he wasn’t too much a fan of what they had planned. It would be much better with other people.

After dropping the kids off with the babysitter, it was a short drive over to the restaurant. Surprisingly, it was still fairly crowded at four o’clock, though not nearly as crowded as it would be even an hour later. Though perhaps part of the reason it looked crowded was because of the six people in the small waiting area, most of whom immediately stood up and walked over the moment Anti and Rama walked into the building.

“Anti! You made it!” JJ rushed over, pausing a moment before getting any closer. When Anti nodded, JJ closed the distance, giving him a quick hug. “We were starting to get worried about you two.”

“Yeah, well...you’ll have to talk to Rama about that, ‘cause they were late in the first place to pick me up,” Anti said jokingly.

JJ raised an eyebrow. “I see.” He turned to Rama, but then froze. “Well. Seems like they’re busy,” he chuckled.

Anti looked over as well. And he made a face. It seemed Rama and Jackie were talking...and more than that, actually. “Get a room, you two,” he said.

Jackie glanced over at him and smiled a bit, pulling away from his spouse. “Give us a break, Anti,” he said. Anti rolled his eyes, but secretly he was glad to see that Jackie was indeed doing better. Physically, he hadn’t changed much; he was still wearing the red hoodie that he hadn’t once taken off since his return, with its sleeves pulled far down, and his hair was just as short. But behind his glasses, his eyes were somehow...lighter. Apparently he started to see a therapist, and it must’ve been working really well.

Schneep appeared next to Anti. “You should see the two of them on the video chat,” he muttered. “It is almost insufferable. Too sweet.”

“Aw, Schneep’s just jealous,” Jackie teased. “I know you want a partner, zappy boy.”

“Oh, as if,” Schneep scoffed. “They would have to be able to keep up with me, and I know that is impossible, so unless I find someone who can—ow!” Anti had punched Schneep in the arm. “Ah, always so violent,” he muttered.

“Oh, you haven’t seen me being violent,” Anti promised.

“Hey, there will be none of this,” JJ said sternly. “It’s my birthday.”

“Your birthday was like, four days ago,” Anti pointed out.

“Yes, well, there were no good shows playing on a Wednesday and a holiday,” JJ said, folding his arms in an almost sulky way. “And this place closed early.”

Anti rolled his eyes. “Well. Happy birthday, Jackson. I’d give you your present but the stupid online shipping is taking forever.” Taking a step back, Anti looked around the waiting area. “Where’s Marvin?”

“I’m righ’ here.”

Anti turned back around. Marvin was sitting in a chair right next to the restaurant’s entrance, easy to miss when coming in. He was wearing his nice jacket, and also... “Are you wearing headphones?” Anti asked, surprised.

Marvin grinned. “Yea.” He tapped the side of the heavy black headphones. “Noise cancellin’. T’ese places get very loud an’ bright, y’know. I mean, not t’at they didn’, back...where I’m from, but we didn’ have headphones then, and jesus, they make it all more bearable.”

“I see.” A bit odd, but honestly, Anti didn’t really care. If Marvin wanted to wear headphones in a restaurant, that was fine, not like it was disturbing anyone. And it was then that Anti noticed the other two people sitting nearby. He vaguely recognized one as JJ’s stage manager—what was her name? Started with a D—which made sense, of course JJ would invite her. But the other one...Anti narrowed his eyes. “What’re you doing here?”

Stacy Davidson looked away from her conversation, expression immediately dropping once she noticed Anti. Before she could say anything, JJ stepped in between her and Anti. “I invited her,” he said calmly.

“What?! Why?”

“Well, because we’re friendly,” JJ explained.

Anti stared at him. “Since when?!”

“For about a month, now? Of course, she started by talking to Rama and Jackie, but over time she’s met all the rest of us, too, except for you, apparently.” JJ lowered his voice. “I don’t know why you’re acting like this, when from what I’ve heard, you’ve only met her once, and that’s not nearly long enough to build up resentment. Besides, the dinner’s only going to be an hour, and from there we’ll all be quiet in the theatre, so you won’t even have to talk to her if you don’t want. Understand?”

Anti was silent for a moment. It wasn’t that he didn’t like Stacy—it was that he didn’t trust her. To be fair, he didn’t trust most people. But there was something about her specifically that felt a little weird. Some American woman, taking a personal vacation for almost two months now? Who has the time and money for that? And why here? Why vacation in this random city that wasn’t even that much of a tourist destination? But Anti sighed. “Fine.”

One of the restaurant hosts came into the waiting area. “Jackson, party of eight?”

“That’s us!” Jameson said, cheerfully waving the host down. “Come on, everyone.”

The whole party followed the host to the table, chatting happily among each other. Except for Anti, who trailed behind, mood suddenly a bit darker.

———————

Hours later, Rama and Anti found themselves back in the car with each other, heading to pick up the kids. Anti looked out the window at the night sky and yawned. It really hadn’t been that bad. Dinner had been spoiled a little bit, with the presence of that Stacy lady. He’d spent a bit too much mental energy trying to forget she was there. But the theatre had been alright. It probably helped that the play they’d seen was a Halloween special, and Anti grudgingly had to admit it was pretty good, even if he didn’t enjoy sitting in a dark, uncomfortable audience seat with a couple constantly whispering to each other behind him.

“Here we are,” Rama said, pulling to the side of the road in front of a regular suburban house. “Let’s go get the kids.”

“You go ahead, I’ll stay here,” Anti said, already pulling out his phone and opening up a game.

Rama sighed gently, then said, “Of course,” and opened the car door to leave.

Anti watched them walk up the path and wait at the door. He made sure the old lady who owned the house (and frequently worked as a babysitter, apparently) had opened the door before going back to his game. A few turns later, he realized that it was taking a while for Rama to return with the kids. Grumbling, Anti glanced back towards the house, expecting to see Rama chatting with the lady. And they were. But something was...off. Sitting up straight, Anti watched Rama’s expression. They seemed...upset. Curious, Anti climbed out of the car and walked up to the door.

“See, he can tell you himself!” The old lady said, gesturing at Anti as he approached.

“Uh, tell them what?” Anti asked.

“Margaret says that you already picked up the kids,” Rama explained.

“What?” Anti looked between the two of them, searching for any hint of amusement, like this might be a joke. “Uh...well, I haven’t. So you can go get them now.”

The old lady, Margaret, paused, as if also waiting for a punchline. When nothing came, she looked confused. “But...”

“See?! That’s what I was trying to say!” Rama said, throwing their hands in the air. Behind the obvious exasperation, their eyes were wide, their voice shaking a bit as they continued, “Margaret, this has been all fun and games, but it’s late, and the kids need to get home.”

Margaret shook her head slowly. “I—I’m sorry, but...they’re not here.”

Anti froze. Then immediately started to laugh. “Alright, real funny. But we really need to get home.” He leaned past Margaret, looking into the house behind her. “Will! Michelle! C’mon, the joke’s up!”

“Anti...” Rama said in a low voice. “I-I think—”

“Oh dear, it’s all my fault!” Margaret suddenly gasped. “I’m so sorry, I could’ve sworn it was you. You showed up about half an hour ago, said you were going to take them home. You had a car—”

“All good, except I can’t fucking drive!” Anti suddenly snapped.

“Anti!” Rama snapped right back. “Margaret doesn’t know that! Don’t blame her for this!”

Anti took a few steps back, saying nothing. The ice cold realization was starting to sink in, and he was starting to physically shiver, as though he’d actually been hit with a bucket of water.

“What did this guy look like?” Rama asked, turning back to Margaret. “You said you thought it was Anti, but was there anything different, that stood out?”

Margaret shook her head. “I may be old, but my memory is clear as ever, and I am positive he looked just like Mr. McLoughlin here. And the kids seemed alright with it, too...” She trailed off, suddenly looking puzzled. “Which is a bit odd, innit? I’m sure that Will, at least, would know his dad couldn’t drive.”

Rama swore under their breath. “We have to—Anti?”

Anti was walking back down the path, pulling out his phone and hurriedly dialing a number. He paced along the sidewalk as he listened to it ringing on the other end. It was quickly picked up.

“Hel—”

“Did you pick up the kids?” Anti asked.

There was a slight pause on the other end. “Uh...I’m sorry, I-I don’t understand,” Jackie said.

“The kids. When you and Volt were driving back to your apartment, did you stop by to pick them up?” Anti insisted.

“Um...no,” Jackie said hesitantly. “Why? What’s wr—”

Anti hung up before he was even finished asking that question, already dialing a second number. This one took a while more to connect. “Did you pick up the kids?” he asked again.

“Anit?” JJ said. “What’s this about?”

“It’s about the kids, I thought that’d be clear. Did you and Marvin pick them up when you were heading home?”

“Why would we pick up Michelle and Will?” JJ was clearly confused. “Oh, I suppose that’s not an answer. Well, no, we didn’t. Weren’t you and Rama going to do that?” He paused. “Anti? Are you still there?”

Anti wasn’t hearing anything beyond the sudden rush of panicking white noise in his head. Now very pale, he hung up without another word.

Rama suddenly appeared next to him. “Anti? What’s wrong?”

Suddenly furious, Anti whirled on them. “My fucking son is missing, that’s what’s wrong!” He shouted.

Rama’s eyes flashed. “Yes, well, my fucking daughter is missing! So maybe you should listen to me when I try to tell you that we should call the police, like I’ve been trying to tell you for the past five minutes!”

Anti suddenly laughed. “Oh yes, let’s do that, why don’t we? Cause they did such a good job when Jackie disappeared! Fucking grand, go ahead!”

“Well it’s better than doing nothing!” Rama closed their eyes, pressing a hand to their chest as they took several deep breaths. “Look, how about I drive us to my house first? This could all be some kind of misunderstanding. Maybe they walked home, it’s only a couple blocks.”

“They didn’t walk home,” Anti said bitterly.

Rama blinked. “Well, you sound sure, don’t you?”

“Because sure, a six—sorry, seven year old might think that’s a good idea,” Anti said, folding his arms. “But a ten year old has enough common sense to not go walking out when it’s pitch ass black outside! Or, y’know, at least Will does. And you know he’d stop Michelle if she decided to do that!” Anti balled his hands into fists to keep them from shaking. “You go home and check, I’m going back to my home so I can blast Skillet through my headphones to calm down.” He scowled at Rama as they started to stay something else, then started to leave.

“Anti!” Rama called.

He didn’t look back. He had to get to a bus station and back home. Because right now, he was very conscious of the fact that he had a handgun in a hidden holster under his jacket. And that was something that he didn’t want to think about.

———————

It was almost nine o’clock when Anti arrived back at his apartment, after taking an almost-empty bus halfway across the city. Once inside, he elected to use the stairs instead of the elevator, not wanting to stay still for any longer than absolutely necessary. It took a moment for him to find the key to his apartment. And once he did, he found that unlocking his door was pointless: it was already unlocked.

Alarm bells went off in his head—no, more than that, it was a warning siren, the type of which you’d hear during a state of immediate citywide crisis. He never left his door unlocked, not even when he was inside the apartment. And with Will...with him having disappeared not too long ago...

Anti reached inside his jacket to grab his handgun, but then immediately let go; he wasn’t sure what he’d do if he found someone inside and had a gun in his hand. So instead, he threw open the door, hand feeling the wall for the light switch. “Whoever the fuck is in here—”

The lights flipped on.

Anti froze.

The inside of the apartment was ruined. The cupboards of the kitchenette were thrown open, their contents strewn about the counters, the sofa and chairs had their cushions and pillows pulled off and hurled about, and any available drawers had been yanked out of their places. But that was only a little alarming compared to everything else. The coffee table had been stabbed. Anti recognized all the knives from his collection, as well as plain kitchen knives, all driven point-down into the wooden surface. And the walls...someone had been drawing on the walls. They were covered in rough drawings of smiley faces. Some of the faces had their eyes X’d out, some of them had wide, gaping smiles, but they all were drawn in a red-brown liquid that, judging from the trails, had been dripping for a while and only recently started to congeal.

Anti stepped inside, shutting the door behind him. His eyes slowly trailed across the walls, tracing the drawn-on smiles. He approached the coffee table, bending down to touch the ruined surface. Who would do this?

Immediately, he knew. He was actually amazed he hadn’t realized sooner. Who would possibly have a motive for taking Will and Michelle? Maybe someone who’d taken people before. Who would draw smiles all over the walls? Maybe someone who’d never once stopped smiling as long as Anti and the others had known him.

“Oh my god...” Anti whispered. “You took Will.” His vision started to blur, and his chest rose and fell quickly, overcome with a sudden rise of sharp, burning, painful emotion. He grabbed the nearest knife, wrenching it from the surface of the table. And in one quick motion, he threw it at the wall. The point embedded itself in the eye of one of the smiley faces. “You took my son, you fucking bastard!”

He pulled another knife free, throwing it at the wall as well. He didn’t care that it merely bounced off the surface, he was already grabbing another and throwing it as well. “Fuck you!” He yelled. “Fuck you fuck you!” Words were not enough. He merely screamed as he yanked out another one of the knives. This one didn’t go into the wall. It went back into the table, stabbing it, again and again and again. His throat started to burn from how much he screamed, but he kept going. He grabbed a pillow nearby and slashed at it, feathers flying, again and again and again. He couldn’t clearly see what he was doing as the tears started to fall from his eyes, smearing his sight into mere colors. He turned back to the table, and down the knife went, again and again and again and again and agai—

Anti cried out, pulling back. The knife clattered to the wooden table surface. A bit of crimson stained its edge. Rubbing his eyes, he glanced down at his arm. The knife had sliced through his jacket, near his wrist. Blood was leaking from a cut. Anti’s eyes went wide, and he threw himself backwards, scrambling against the floor until his back hit a wall. His hand flew to his throat, rubbing a line across a specific part, hidden by the choker he usually wore.

“F...fuck...” Anti shook his head. He couldn’t be here. He couldn’t be here right now, or he might do something he’ll regret. Pushing himself to his feet, he reached inside his jacket and pulled his gun out of its holster, throwing it across the room, as far away from him as possible.

There was a small ding! sound from his pocket. Before he even realized what he was doing, Anti grabbed his phone and threw that as well. He winced as it cracked against the opposite wall. Fine. Whatever. He’d deal with that later. He couldn’t be here right now. Spinning around, Anti flung the door to his apartment open and ran outside, slamming the door behind him.

———————

He didn’t know where he was going. It was nine o’clock—no, it was about nine forty now, when had so much time passed?—at night, and he didn’t want to be around people. He’d probably just end up snapping at anyone who saw him.

Actually, there was no ‘probably’ about it. He found himself back on another bus, heading...somewhere. He was sitting on a bench, arms folded around himself, shaking slightly. And there was a woman sitting on the bench across from him. Staring. He flinched, and growled, “Why don’t you just fucking murder me already?!” The woman jumped, and looked away. He got off on the next stop.

After that, he got on the next bus that appeared, not caring where it took him. He stayed there until it pulled into a small station, and the driver looked back at him and said, “Hey. Buses stopping for the night, buddy. If you need to get somewhere, the train station’s right here.” Anti stared at her, then stood up and walked off silently.

The city had a train system, though not a big or extensive one. There were only three major stops, and it appeared as though he’d arrived at the one in the center of the city. This station doubled as a hub for the buses. It should have been fairly busy, even this late at night, but there was no one there. It seemed all the bus drivers had clocked out, and there were no passengers waiting for the train. Anti walked up onto the station platform, looking up at the round lamps giving off an orange-yellow glow. After a moment, he walked over to the nearest bench and sat down.

It was never truly quiet in a city, but this is as close as it got. The small amount of traffic was just a distant noise. And there didn’t seem to be a train coming anytime soon. Anti stared at the tracks. What if he just jumped onto them? And then a train appeared? What would happen? Anti stopped himself before he could go any farther down that path. He knew exactly what would happen, and it wasn’t something he wanted. He didn’t even want to think about it.

Of course, that didn’t stop that thought from coming back into his mind barely a minute later. This time, Anti was already thinking about who would be around to clean up the mess before he managed to catch himself. “F...fuck...” he said, physically flinching. He curled his hands into fists, digging his nails into his palms. “Stop it,” he muttered. “You were doing so good with...these.”

Time passed. How much, he wasn’t exactly sure. He was too deep in his own head, trying not to think about the train coming, trying not to think about what might be happening to Will and Michelle, trying not to think about...a lot of things.

Something was flickering in the corner of his vision.

Anti blinked, looking over in that direction. There was a large trashcan in the middle of the train station. And something was glowing inside it. Anti frowned, watching it. Had someone thrown away a glow stick or something? But then, what was the movement, and why was he just noticing it now?

Sighing, Anti stood up and walked over to the trashcan. Maybe it was a discarded toy or something that had just found a second wind in its batteries. Leaning over, he peered inside the can.

It was definitely not a glow stick or a toy.

Puzzled, Anti stared at it a while longer. And then it suddenly moved, and he yelled, stumbling back. “Wh—I’m—fuck—am I—?” He couldn’t even find the right exclamation to use. With wide eyes, he kept staring at the trash can, the glow still coming from inside.

There was a rumbling sound, and Anti looked over to see a train approaching the station. Quickly, he scrambled over to the platform, stopping just behind the yellow line that marked the safest distance to stand at. The train slowed to a halt, and as soon as the doors opened Anti jumped inside the artificial white light of the train car, grabbing the nearest pole for standing room. As the train pulled away, he kept staring at the platform while it faded into the distance.

———————

He was in the north part of the city now, and he had no idea what time it was. But judging by the emptiness of the streets and the fact that most of the businesses were closed, it was pretty closed. Anti walked for a while, taking random turns at crossroads, sometimes walking across the street whenever he felt like it. Eventually, he saw a building that was lit up, a tiny little corner diner with a neon sign outside advertising twenty-four hour service. He ducked inside, and it was only when he was hit with a blast of warm air that he realized how cold he’d been.

Strained pop music was playing in the air. The diner was fairly clean, most of the furniture made of wood—or at least plastic meant to resemble wood. A teenage boy was loitering behind the counter with earbuds in, though he snapped to attention when he saw Anti walk in. “Uh...hi, welcome to the Cup and Platter,” he said.

Anti didn’t even acknowledge him, walking over to the nearest booth and sitting down, immediately burying his head in his folded arms.

After a moment, footsteps approached the booth, and Anti looked up again to see the teenager hovering nearby, holding a pen and a notebook. “Uh, sir, is there anything I can do for you?”

“Yeah, why don’t you get some fucking better music in here?” Anti snapped.

The teenager blinked. “Um...well I can’t do anything about that. But I can get you a menu? And talk to my manager about the music?”

Anti huffed, and slammed his head into the table hard enough to rattle the salt and pepper shakers.

“Whoa!” The teenager jumped. “I—sir, if it’s really bothering you—”

“Just shut up,” Anti growled. “Just...” He sighed. “A menu, fine. You do that, I’ll...yeah.”

The teenager hesitated, then nodded and backed up. He grabbed a laminated menu from behind the counter and walked back over to drop it off before going back around the counter.

Anti glanced over the menu. Mostly breakfast foods and sandwiches. Sighing again, he dropped it and set his head back down on the table. He didn’t want to eat right now. But maybe they’d kick him out if he didn’t order anything...fine, he’d get something small. In a minute.

Before he could...well, he didn’t know exactly what he was planning to do, other than space out. But before he could properly space out, the teenager once again walked up to the booth. “Are...you ready to order, sir?” he asked.

“Fucking...fine, can I have a black coffee and a plate of chips?” Anti asked. He instinctively looked across the booth to ask Will what he wanted, only to get a hot knife in the chest as he remembered.

“Got it.” The teenager didn’t even bother to write that down. “I’ll be right back, sir.”

It didn’t take long for the coffee and fries to arrive. Anti immediately grabbed the coffee cup and downed it. The bitter liquid was scalding hot, burning his throat, but he finished the whole thing in one go anyway, then slammed his head down on the table again. “Fuck everything,” he muttered. He folded his arms around his head, blocking out all light. Only a few minutes later, despite the caffeine in his system, he managed to fall asleep.

———————

“Oh my god oh my god oh my goooood.” Anti paced the room, folding and unfolding his arms. “Oh my fucking god this is the worst idea! Who let me do this?”

Jackie watched from the chair where he was sitting with some amusement. “You’re really nervous, aren’t you?”

“Oh, fucking understatement of the year!” Anti whirled on him. “I can’t fucking believe I thought this was a good idea! Why didn’t you stop me?!”

“Well, you really want to, don’t you?” Jackie reasoned.

Anti laughed. “Of course I do. But sometimes I also want to go skydiving without a parachute, that doesn’t mean I should. Fuck!” He buried his face in his hands. “Oh my god, I’m gonna fuck up. I’m gonna fucking...I-I’ll have to call CPS on myself, I’m done, I—”

“You’re not gonna have to do that,” Jackie said, standing up and walking over. He placed a hand on Anti’s shoulder, then quickly withdrew it when Anti flinched. “You’re very good with Michelle, why would this be any different?”

“Because Michelle’s three,” Anti explained. “And I’m not her dad. All I have to do is make sure she eats and doesn’t break anything. With a kid of my own I-I have to—to help him with school, make sure he stays out of trouble, make sure he never feels like I’m not listening to him, I gotta set a good example—I am the worst person to look to as a good example! Fuck!”

“Anti. Stop.” Jackie’s voice turned firm. “You are totally capable of all of that, no matter what you think. Clearly, you already know what to do. And you have the skills to pull it off.” He smiled a bit. “Y’know, you’re kinda like a hedgehog.”

That was strange enough to snap Anti out of his spiraling thoughts. “I’m sorry, what?”

“Cause you’re all pointy, but you can also be soft,” Jackie said teasingly.

Anti rolled his eyes. “I’m not soft.”

“But you can be. I’ve seen it,” Jackie said, smile widening. “Look, what matters most is that you love your kid, and you listen to him. And of course, there’s all the material providing for him, but the agency wouldn’t have let you through unless you could do that.” Jackie shook his head. “I’m getting off topic. Love and listening. Those are things you can do, and do well.”

Anti looked at him, saying nothing, but his expression obviously distressed.

“It might be a little...awkward at first,” Jackie said. “But if you’re open with him, and talk to him, then it’ll all turn out okay. Plus, you can always ask me and Rama for advice if you need to.”

“I just...fuck.” Anti pressed a hand to his throat, feeling his breath pass in and out. “What if I don’t do enough? What if he ends up lighting a fire behind the school dumpster? Or breaking a shop window and threatening people with the cut glass? Or messing with a computer until it sends emails to half the adults in town that is just a bunch of insults and swearing? Or—”

Jackie laughed. “Those are some ridiculous, and oddly specific scenarios.”

Anti glared at him. “I am literally naming events from my childhood, Jackie.”

“I...oh.” Jackie seemed momentarily taken aback by that.

“Yeah, I was a little shit and my mom did nothing about it, how am I supposed to know what to do?!”

“Well, I suppose that’s where you can ask for advice,” Jackie said slowly. “Also, if you really care about this kid, and show that you care, and teach and explain everything to him, you’ll never have to worry about him acting out, cause he won’t have reason to.”

Anti closed his eyes, breathing deeply. “Fuck.”

“Y’know that’s starting to not sound like a word.”

That caused a bout of laughter. “Yeah,” Anti muttered. He paused, rubbing his upper arms. “I...I guess I have some idea what to do...”

“And you’ll be great at it!” Jackie said encouragingly. “Say it. Tell me you’ll be great at it.”

“I...I’ll be great at it.”

Jackie paused, then put his hand on Anti’s shoulder again. “You can do this, Anti. Just know you can.”

———————

Anti woke up, and the first thing he noticed was that his back hurt. He groaned, and straightened, causing a sudden flare of pain as he shifted position. The second thing he noticed was that his eyes were wet, and he hurriedly wiped them and looked around. The diner looked almost the same, except now the teenage boy was gone, replaced by an older woman, who was currently shaking his shoulder. “Sir, you’ve been here for far too long,” she said.

“How long?” Anti asked.

“A couple hours. We’ve been patient, but you simply must leave now.”

Anti sighed. He looked out the window—

No. There was no way. He must be seeing things.

“Uh, yeah.” Anti dug into his pocket and pulled out his wallet, handing the woman a twenty, more than enough to cover what he ordered. “Keep the change, I’ll...go.” And he stood up and left, heading outside. He had to get a closer look at this.

It was across the street. His eyes locked on it. This had to be a trick, right? Maybe it was Distorter, he could cause illusions. “This isn’t funny!” He shouted. “Just come out and tell you what you want!” He barely noticed that the woman inside the diner was giving him several odd looks.

It moved.

Anti immediately jumped, and ran in the opposite direction.

———————

The run eventually slowed to a walk once Anti realized he’d outrun it. Though he kept walking. What the hell was it? Was he just losing his mind? “About time,” he muttered, laughing darkly. But though he joked, the thing was actually kind of scaring him. He didn’t want to start seeing things. He had enough problems as it was.

He walked through the city, heading vaguely south but not really caring how winding the path he took was. After a while, he ended up at the park. Which caused him to pause. He hadn’t walked that far, had he? Come to think of it, the sky was significantly lighter than it had been when he left the diner.

Well, he was here now. He sat down on the nearest bench, and once he did, he realized how much his feet and legs were actually hurting. “It’s always like this,” he mumbled. “Hey, body, why don’t you fucking, uh...let me know when shit’s happening to me? Isn’t that your job?” He fell silent for a moment. Then he shifted, laying down on the bench. He closed his eyes for a moment...

———————

Anti woke up to sunlight, red through his closed eyelids. Immediately, he realized he fell asleep, and he groaned. It had been years since he fell asleep on a park bench.

And there was something on his chest. Something rather light, but heavy enough to be noticeable, and clearly not a leaf or anything. He opened his eyes—

“What the fuck?!” He shouted, flailing and tumbling off the bench. The thing flew into the air, and stayed there. Anti scrambled to his feet and broke into a run again. What was this thing?! Why had he seen it three times so far?! What was he supposed to do about it?!

Well, either he was seeing things, or some magic shit was going on. And though he wasn’t much experienced in either of those matters, he knew people who did. Anti reached for his pocket, but then remembered how he’d thrown his phone, back in his apartment. He sighed. Guess he’ll have to head back.

———————

He ended up walking back to his apartment, because...well why not? Luckily, he hadn’t lost he key while he was out. Standing outside the apartment door, he hesitated, but took a deep breath and headed inside.

Nothing had changed. The room was still a mess, the table was still bristling with knives, and the smiles were still drawn on the walls. Anti tried to not look at any of this, eyes locking onto his phone on the floor as he navigated around the mess. He picked up the phone, examining it for damage. The screen was cracked, but it seemed alright otherwise. Relieved, Anti opened the door to his recording room and walked inside, not closing it behind him.

The phone was on low battery, so he rummaged around for a charger and plugged it in. While he waited, he slowly went about taking the knives out of the table and putting them back on the shelf where they were supposed to be. It seemed their glass case had been opened, but the lock still worked. Once all the knives, even the kitchen ones, were inside the case, Anti picked up his handgun and put it in there as well, closing the case and locking it. Quickly, he put the key all the way into one of the kitchenette cabinets.

Then he turned his head slightly and saw it.

Anti gasped, pressing against the wall, his eyes locked on it. “What the fuck do you want?!” He shouted. It didn’t respond.

Quickly, he rushed back to the recording room, unplugging his phone and turning it on. He glanced up and saw it in the doorway of the room. “No,” he said warily, backing up until he was against the opposite wall. When it didn’t move further, he sank down to sit on the floor, and opened up the group chat he had with the others.

The group chat was a fairly recent development. All of them were still getting used to using it, but it appeared as though there had been a string of new messages since he last used it. Not bothering to read them, Anti typed out, Hey anyone here?

Immediately, there were two responses: JJ sent ANTI??? and Schneep sent Anti?!?!

Oh good you are, Anti typed.

Where the FUCK have you been?! Schneep asked.

Nevermind that, Anti replied.

Anti, I’m sorry, but you’ve been gone for THE WHOLE NIGHT, JJ stressed. What happened? Are you alright?

The whole night? Anti checked the time on his phone and—holy shit, it was a little after noon. Anti sighed. Well, it wasn’t the first time he’d disappeared. Though it had been a while...he couldn’t believe he did it again; he thought he’d fixed that. Long story, more important things, Anti said. How can you tell if youre hallucinating?

Schneep replied immediately. If you look at it in a mirror or cell phone and it’s not there, then it’s a hallucination. Or you can take a picture and ask someone else if it’s there.

Anti looked up at the thing in the doorway. Slowly, he raised his phone and snapped a picture, sending it to the chat. Is there a thing there?

The others took a while to reply, and then Schneep sent: Is this a prank? It is in very poor taste if it is, Anti.

What?? No! Just tell me if its there!

Yes, theres a floating green eyeball in the picture, JJ sent.

Anti looked up again. The eyeball was about the size of a baseball, and it was looking right at him as it hovered. It was also glowing slightly. As Anti stared at it, its iris squished a bit, and the optic nerve coming from it swished a bit. Well then what the fuck is it??? Anti asked. Jackson youre the magic man, what is it?!

I don’t know, JJ replied. I’ve never seen or even heard of anything like that before.

WAIT I THOUGHT THAT WAS PHOTO SHOPPED, YOU ARE SERIOUS?! Schneep asked.

The eyeball moved closer, and Anti let out an embarrassing shriek. It immediately stopped. “What do you want?!” He repeated.

After a quiet moment, the eyeball dropped down to the ground, bouncing a bit where it landed. It waved its optic nerve in the air. Staring, Anti started to take a video, then sent it to the chat as well. DOES THIS LOOK FUCKING FAKE, VOLT?!

I DO NOT KNOW, YOU ARE VERY SKILLED WITH TECHNOLOGY! Schneep replied.

Anti looked over at the eyeball again. “Can...can you say something?” he asked.

The eyeball wiggled side to side, like someone shaking their head.

“Was that a no?”

Another wiggle.

“Can you give me a yes?”

The eyeball bounced up and down.

Anti considered this. Knowing it could at least understand him made him a little less freaked out, though his heart was still pounding with the leftover adrenaline of thinking he was finally losing it. “Are...are you here...” He swallowed nervously. “...cause of what happened with Will? And Michelle?”

The eyeball tilted, then wiggled in another ‘No.’

“Oh...” Anti fell quiet. “What...are you doing here, then?” The eyeball didn’t respond, but instead rose into the air and inched closer. “Uh...not a yes or no, I-I get it. Uh...can you at least tell me if you’re here to hurt me? Are you here to somehow, like...I-I dunno, kill me or fuck with me?”

The eyeball stopped, pupil widening in an almost shocked way. It hurriedly wiggled a ‘No.’

“Okay...” Anti wasn’t sure where to go with this.

His phone started ringing. Anti looked down at the Caller ID, then picked it up.

“Anti?!” Jackie’s voice was breathless, as if he’d just run a marathon. “Anti are you okay?! What happened?! Are you alright?”

“‘M fine, Jackie,” Anti said.

“Are you sure?” Jackie asked.

Well, in actuality, ‘alright’ was subjective. Anti was tired, he had a cut on his arm that wasn’t covered, his body was aching in several places, and his heart was hurting, crying out. But was he in immediate danger? No. “Yeah, I’m sure,” Anti said.

“Jesus fuck!” Jackie shouted. “Y-you can’t just—I-I thought you were—we all thought you were—right after Michelle and Will, they—it was Distorter, I know it, he likes kids, I mean, not in a creepy way, or at least not in a way that’s creepier than he already is—fuck! Anti, we—Anti, I—h-he took—we thought he got you too, and I-I couldn’t—” A short sob interrupted the halting flow of words. “I couldn’t d-deal with...Michelle is gone, a-and you just—you were gone—”

“Hey, hey, Jackie, it’s okay,” Anti said, trying to sound reassuring. It was a bit difficult, but he tried. “I’m okay. And we’re going to get the kids back.”

On the other end, he could hear Jackie crying softly. “Not...give me a moment, Anti, I-I can’t do both these at once. Just...fuck, don’t do that again.”

“I won’t,” Anti said. He almost smiled. It was ironic, wasn’t it? Before he met Jackie and the others, he disappeared all the time. And nobody ever freaked out about him vanishing for a night or a day or even a few of them. If only Jackie knew. “I’m okay, I promise.”

There was another voice on the other end. Even from the distance, he recognized the accent. “Volt, I’m fine,” Jackie said, voice a bit quieter as if he was backing away from the phone. “I’m fi—well, no, but...just not that right now, I-I can’t do it.”

“Are you okay?” Anti asked softly.

“Not as not okay as I was a while ago,” Jackie said, returning to the phone. “You’re sure you’re alright? Volt says you thought you were hallucinating?”

Anti laughed. “I thought, yeah. But turns out it’s just...” He stared at the eyeball. It was closer now, just a meter away from him. “It’s just some weird magic shit. If it sticks around, we should call a meeting about it, but...I have to deal with this right now.”

“Oh. Okay. Sh-should I hang up?”

“If you want to.” Anti paused. “But...thanks for calling.”

“No problem,” Jackie said quietly. And he hung up.

Anti stared at the eyeball more intensely. “Is...is there any way you could tell me what you want?” he asked.

The eyeball swished its nerve. Then suddenly, it leaped forward. Anti jolted, trying to back up before remembering he was against the wall. The eyeball landed on his lap, then jumped up onto his shoulder, and...and stopped. It started to rub against his neck, like a dog or a cat nuzzling against its owner. Anti remained tense for a while, but when nothing happened, he slowly relaxed. “Uh...do you just want...to hang out?”

The eyeball appeared in front of his face. Its tail moved in a motion that could almost be considered a ‘so-so’ gesture.

“Oh...” Anti didn’t know how to respond from there. “Well...uh, feel free to.”

The eyeball bounced, and went back to sitting on his shoulder.

Anti stayed there, staring through the room’s open door to the ruined living room and kitchenette beyond. In just one night...it had all gone downhill. His son was gone, along with his best friend’s daughter. And he’d just...lost it. In a way he hadn’t in a while.

He closed his eyes, leaning his head back against the wall. Tears started to leak from his eyes. And his shoulders started to shake. And with the strange eyeball doing its best to cuddle against him, Anti started to cry.

#jacksepticeye #jacksepticeye fanfiction #jacksepticegos #septic egos #septic egos au #antisepticeye #programmer anti #jackieboy man #dr jackie parker #chase brody #distorter #more of the switch boys appear but im only tagging the major ones #tw: extreme distress #(i think at least?)#brigid writes fanfiction #septicswitchau

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dragonstoravens · 4 years

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Babylon Vol. 1: Freeze Frame, Little Victories, Handled

[ID: a blue patterned banner with text reading “BABYLON.” End ID.]

(Ok this one’s a LONG one, I’ll admit it! But these three chapters-- one Big Boy and two much shorter epilogues-- really go together very well, I didn’t want to separate them. This is one of my favorite parts of book one honestly, so I hope you guys enjoy it too.)

CW: Panic attack

8. Freeze Frame

There wasn’t really any reason for it, it had just been a very long day. A very long day punctuated, of course, by yet another endless fancy dress event, one Trinity needed out of right now. The problem being that he wasn’t alone at this event. He was used to being the brooding wallflower, the kind of man who was noticed when he needed to be, but who no one would notice if he slipped away. Having Azzy there, even though they’d been to several events together by this point, was a very slight change to his usual strategy that made everything just a touch more difficult. Which meant that, right now, it made everything seem pretty much impossible. Trinity wondered if Azzy had noticed how long it had been since he moved his eyes. Or took a breath. He wasn’t sure himself, and if that awareness was slipping it was really time to go. He couldn’t do this in front of her.

“I’ll be right back, dear. Restroom,” he murmured to her, hoping those were the actual words that came out of his mouth. He felt a bit like he was staring at the back of his own head, or watching a vaguely interesting silent film from the back of a drive in theater. He walked away without waiting for a response-- it wasn’t as if he’d hear it, anyway-- making a conscious effort to swing his arms in opposition to his legs as he walked. In his head, he slowly began listing prime numbers, with just enough forethought to pull away from the comm link beforehand. 1. 2. 3. 5. 7. 11. 13? 13. A bead of sweat formed on his temple and rolled slowly down his face. He knew a spot that would be deserted at this time. 17. 19. 23. He turned the corner, and disappeared out of sight from the main ballroom.

Trinity had left all too quickly. Azure wasn’t used to the crowds quite yet, but something in the urgency with which he left concerned her. The comm had been giving her something like static before it turned off entirely, and he almost never turned that off unless he had to. He liked to know when she was getting nervous. Was the link malfunctioning? She was here, alone, and she didn’t even know where he went. Before she could begin mentally mapping the ballroom out to figure out where the bathrooms even were around here, someone in an all-too-boring suit and his date in a tacky, glittery number walked up. She blinked, plastering a smile on her face.

“And to what do I owe the pleasure, Mister…?”

“Please, just call me James. Where is Trinity? I just saw him around here a minute ago, then he disappeared!” Whoever he was, he seemed friendly. Even if his date was sizing her up something fierce. She ran through her last few events, looking for a James in there somewhere to remember. Maybe she should start sticking around for the tax talk. Oh! This was the one from the security agency. She could field that without fucking it up, he’d mentioned it before. She just had to be really noncommittal. Pretend like she knew anything. That’s how Trinity said he used to do it as a teenager.

“Trinity’s currently takin’ care of something elsewhere, I’m sure you understand.” She picked her words carefully. “He should be back in a moment, but these things are always so busy, hardly any time to actually get from A to B without some stops in between.” She tried to remember the way Trinity danced his way through small talk to get to the heart of these issues faster. She’d never understood how he did it, but she’d have to try. She tested the comm and got nothing back. “Honestly, I’m sure the borin’ work things can wait until you see him next time. Please, go enjoy yourselves! I’ll gladly let him know y’all came to see him, he’ll be sorry he missed ya.”

That evasion seemed polite enough for the two of them, as they gave their sincere apologies for not getting to him before he left and went on their merry way. She gave a big exhale, some small sparks shaking off her hands. She shouldn’t stay in one spot or it’d happen again, and this brand of over-polite and accommodating was not her base setting. If she was too formal for too long, she was almost certain she’d begin to chafe. She began a beeline for the refreshments table, eyes always looking out for her date, the stubborn line of her jaw covering for an increasing amount of concern for him.

Her shoulder brushed against someone, jostling her from her thoughts slightly. She really only saw a pristine suit and a hand covered in rings. No, that wasn’t something she could handle right now. Too rich for her blood, and literally.

“Excuse me, my apologies-” was all she offered, continuing on her way. By the time she reached the table, full of wine glasses, she realized too late she’d been followed. But not by the person she’d bumped into. She plastered another smile to her face, picking up a glass and masking her urge to wrinkle her nose at the smell of the wine. She recognized this one: Usually she was with her boy-toy of the week, but today she was alone.

“Denicia, to what do I owe the pleasure? Where’s that darlin’ blond of yours, or have you broken another young man’s heart within the last week?” She punctuated the sentence with a laugh, making sure it was clear she was telling a joke. Internally, she cringed. She wished Trinity was with her, this was where he’d let out a big breath and quietly note some disheveled detail to pick on to make her leave. She didn’t have the eye for it, nor the vocabulary to really properly pull off that particular exit. That was really more Crim’s thing. Which meant she was stuck.

“I was about to ask you the same thing, I’ve looked for him everywhere and I simply can’t imagine you’d cut him loose as quickly as I cut mine, Camilla.” The woman gave a smile full of teeth and Azzy wondered if they were fake or if she just had that big of a mouth. No soft chuckle and joke in return. The silence in the comm made her lonely, but she pushed it aside.

“Oh he’s around. Probably drawin’ up a contract somewhere, you know how he is, always work, no play.” She affected her best pout. This was her least favorite face to put on, the spoiled and slighted lover. If anyone looked at her hands, calloused and scarred, they’d know she was bullshitting, without a doubt, but these people simply weren’t observant or ballsy enough to try and call her on it, and somehow that was worse.

“You poor dear, he’ll come around soon I’m sure. Inboxes don’t stay full forever when that’s the pace you work at.” Denicia patted her on the shoulder sympathetically. “I suppose I won’t bother you with my business then, you’ve got a man to locate before he forgets you’re here. Good luck dear!” and with that she whirled around to disappear into the crowd again, leaving behind a thick floral perfume that made Azure gag. She shook out more sparks and gave a long sigh. She had no idea how Trinity had done this on his own for so long. She looked around to see if anyone was watching too closely, and finished her drink in a single gulp. Then she turned, bumping into another someone with way too many rings.

“Oop, my bad, excuse me!”, she offered a small curtsy and continued on her way, beginning her hunt for Trinity anew, wherever he was. A piercing gaze followed her, but with so many sets of eyes on her already, what was one more? She was so, so close to the bathrooms when a man exited. He recognized her, and plodded in her direction. She wanted to groan.

She knew this one too.

“Camilla! Powdering your nose I assume? The lady always looks ravishing, I can assure you that from where I’m standing you don’t need to.”

“Great to see you, Mister Phineas.” She gave a coy smile, keeping an eye on the doors behind him, mentally cataloguing anyone entering and exiting. She prayed Trinity would save her from this one. “Has your evenin’ been kind to you? You seemed to be spinnin’ one helluva yarn when I passed by earlier.”

Mister Phineas gave a deep belly laugh, and she narrowly kept her smile on well enough to avoid wincing. God, he was so loud. Trinity hadn’t left the bathroom yet, and she wasn’t sure he’d leave her hanging out here if he knew it was Phineas she’d been cornered by.

“Ah Camilla, that’s more a story for your lad Trinity! Something for us men to share.” He patted her shoulder, and she threw up in her mouth a little. “Where is the boy anyway? I haven’t seen him since the two of you entered.”

She wanted desperately to just leave. Tell him to fuck off, turn heel and go. He was useless to Trinity by the man’s own admission anyway so a tiny little shock really wouldn’t hurt him too much, with all the insulation he had. Instead of any of that though, she tittered. No point in being violent because someone’s annoying, that would be unladylike at best and evil at worst; her whole reason to be here was making things easier for Trinity. “He’s indisposed, handlin’ some affairs he said just couldn’t wait a minute longer. Shall I pass somethin’ along? I’ve got no idea when he’ll be back around.” She tapped at the comm one more time. Nothing. Ugh.

“Oh, poor form, leaving a pretty thing like you to wander a wolf’s den like this.” For once she thought maybe Phineas had a point, but she’d never admit that. “I’ll handle my business with him myself, would hate to make you work harder than you need to.” He took her hand and pressed a kiss to the back of it and she smiled, while internally screaming. He waved and off he went, and she fought the urge to wipe the slime his mouth left on her hand off onto her dress. She looked around.

Trinity still hadn’t returned. She couldn’t reach him in the comm, and in the minute or so she’d kept an eye on the men’s room, he hadn’t entered or exited. At least out in this hall, she could get a feel for the size of the building. It wasn’t huge, just fancy with a lot of gardens. Trinity wouldn’t leave the building she didn’t think, not if she was going to be stuck here. That left a few stairwell corners and some alcoves she already knew were full of the sort of illicit rendezvous Trinity wasn’t really inclined to. She exited the hall with the bathrooms, knowing full well that’s where the alcoves were and not the stairwells. She took a deep breath and entered the throng, smiling and waving where her attention was drawn but not stopping to converse. Crimson’s voice rang in her head: “If you look purposeful enough, anyone with sense will get out of your way, and anyone without sense should follow suit.”

So through the crowd she strode, head high, step as sure as she could fake it, a wake of static left behind her every step as she tried to quell her rising concern for Trinity’s well being. Her face was set as neutrally as she could manage, knowing her default was an expression of stubborn irritation. To others, she was a woman on a mission. To herself, she was mentally planning every step she took, desperately praying she’d see him pop up in the corners of her vision.

She was almost to the set of hallways on the other side of the room when, in her desperate focus to Get To The Other Side Of The Room, she barely registered the bejeweled hand on her shoulder. Internally, she sighed. Externally, she carefully took the hand off her shoulder, barely sparing a long enough glance to be heard. “I’m very sorry sir, I’ve got somethin’ urgent to attend to.”

“Urgent?” The man lifted a perfect dark eyebrow in a bone-pale and starkly handsome face, and pulled his hand back slowly from where it had been draped in the air after she’d removed it from her person. The nails were painted blood red, and gold and silver rings glinted in the light. His voice was far more polite than any of the others she’d talked to, soft and smooth as silk, but she still really didn’t have time for that.

Did I fuckin’ stutter, sir?

A slight static from the comm answered her unspoken question, then nothing.

“I’m afraid so. I assure you,” she tossed over her shoulder and began walking away, more static in her wake. “I’m a horrible liar.”

He only blinked. “I believe you.” The words were quiet, but followed her down the hall anyhow. He turned with a flash of purple-- was that a purple velvet suit, really?-- and was out of sight, finally. She fought the urge to stick her tongue out or give a loud sigh or do something, anything to vent the frustration she felt at being stopped again, but she managed to keep it together. She wandered the thinning crowds in the hallway, ascending a set of stairs with purpose to a floor that seemed almost deserted.

“Trinity?” She called softly, not wanting to alert anyone to his disappearance. If he wasn’t here, she’d look like a crazy person, and she already had enough of that. She stayed quiet and listened over the din of the event downstairs. She didn’t hear anything, but there was a slight shadow down one of the empty hallways, unmoving, but vaguely human shaped. She strode towards the shape, slowing as she went.

“Trinity?” she called softly from a few feet away.

It was him, she could see as she approached. He stood, leaning against the wall in the deserted hallway, perfectly still and unmoving. He didn’t even seem to be breathing. His face was expressionless, gaze vaguely fixed at a point across the hall where the wall met the floor, eyes frozen in place. He hadn’t blinked since she’d been watching him, and her eyes started to water in sympathy. He didn’t react to her presence. After a long moment, he blinked. The movement began and ended in only his eyelids.

She stopped only a few feet from him, just outside his periphery. She reached a hand out, hesitant. She had no idea what was going on, he’d completely shut her out this whole time. No warning, just silence. If she was honest, she’d been pushing the thought that maybe she’d messed up somehow away all night. But she couldn’t find what she’d done, and it wasn’t like Trinity to give a punishment like the silent treatment. He’d call in a drone strike, or something. Ruin her credit score. Tease her mercilessly until she apologized. She turned off the cybernetics in her arm, reaching for his shoulder.

“Terra to Trinity, pagin’ Hotshot. We need you back here on the ground, buddy.” Her voice came out softer than she’d known it could ever be. He was so still. She frowned, glancing around them. No one. He was certainly good at finding hiding spots. She moved into his line of sight. “Trinity, what’s goin’ on?”

As she got close to him, she could see why it looked like he wasn’t breathing. He was taking incredibly shallow breaths, so much so that his chest and mouth didn’t move at all, and the breaths were coming far faster than was healthy. He didn’t respond to her voice or even to her touch except to blink again— the only hint that any stimulus was reaching him. She’d never seen him do anything even close to this before, he was always so well put together she’d begun to think he was a robot designed exclusively to chat easily with the rich and powerful. She couldn’t piece together what the hell was going on. Was he having a seizure? It didn’t look quite like the ones she’d seen Cadet have, but maybe there were more kinds. Or maybe it was something else. Had something happened to him? She wouldn’t know until either he could talk or passed out, and who knew when that would be. If he was having a seizure she’d know soon enough, and then maybe she’d be able to help. But in the meantime?

She plopped onto the ground, back resting against the wall as she stretched out to lounge right there on the floor. Her arm was pressed lightly but firmly against his leg. Something to anchor himself to, if he needed to for some reason. She gave an exaggerated yawn.

“Yeah I don’t blame you for bein’ quiet, this is stressful. I was downstairs on my own for a fraction of what you usually deal with and I’m already done with it.” She spoke as though he was going to respond, giving his silence some time to fill the air in response. “I ran into Phineas and he left some of his mouth slime on my hand. I think he got….rounder.” She puffed her cheeks out and made a noise one would attribute to a Large Formless Blob. “I think it’s all the shit he talks, he’s swallowing some. The methane’s inflating him AND his ego.”

She chanced a look up at him before she continued. “I think that probably he’s the worst. He’s just so damn loud. It’s nicer up here. Quiet and you can actually breathe a little without catching someone’s four thousand credit perfume in your mouth. Have you noticed how overdone the smells are? I was thinking about makin’ a little particle-incineratin’ barrier for my nose just to come to these things without havin’ to leave with a headache.”

A slightly louder inhale and exhale this time. Maybe something… or maybe not. Still, his chest moved a little with the breath, just the slightest twitch. He blinked. She grinned and continued in her lounging, gesturing dramatically. “I mean, how many innocent flowers died in the making of that migraine? How much you wanna bet they don’t even like the smell themselves? It’s the luxury of it all. Poor posies never imagined it would end like that, slathered on a high-falutin’ neck for the drama.” She was trying to be funny, in the hopes he’d maybe smile. She also tried to keep her voice low enough that only he could hear her, even from her ridiculous position splayed out on the floor. She made an attempt at keeping a cadence to her inflection as well. Something easy to follow, soothing.

His head made a robotic movement, up and down almost imperceptibly as if mimicking the idea of a nod. It seemed like more of an automatic response, something cultivated to try and convince people there was nothing wrong, rather than an indication he understood or processed what she was saying. Not that it would convince anyone, it was the least natural motion she’d ever seen from him, but at least it meant he could hear her.

She took a deep breath and moved a little, stretching out in front of him now, right at his feet, still making sure some part of her touched him. She looked around. Still no one, not that it mattered much. This was the most comfort and fun she’d had all night, which really said something about the company they kept at these events. She smiled up at him. “And some of these people are tacky as hell. I have no idea who let them out of the house lookin’ like that. Though I guess honestly I’m not sure who let them out in general, they don’t know how to act right.” She rested her head on a gloved hand, stabilized by her elbow on the floor. She hummed a little in thought. “I wonder what the market would be like for a little robot that tells you when you’ve got a few too many rings on. Absolutely ridiculous, you jack off with that hand?” She lifted her head and counted on her fingers. “I think more than like three per hand is pushin’ it. How do you even lug your own limbs around? Do something useful that’s not stoppin’ me when I’m busy.”

He actually stopped breathing for a moment at something she’d said in there. Hard to say which part, she’d said a lot of shit. She could ask later. If she remembered. For now she was just looking for something, anything to talk about. “...Yeah, you’re right, it is a little rude not to even try to act like I care.” She continued as if he’d responded to her. “Like I said, I got no idea how you did this on your own for so long. It’s awful. I can only imagine how much more you’d rather be home, curled under a blanket or something. Some hot cocoa instead of this weird champagne with alien fruit in it. I’m not even sure what it is. Do you know of any green fruits with a rind like an orange and the texture of an apple? Tasted awful, and I even double checked, you are supposed to eat it.”

She was about to barrel on, but some instinct told her to wait. After a moment, Trinity twitched at her side, seeming to struggle for a big enough breath to speak. “Zmenclok.” His voice was empty of all emotion, a blank monotone without inflection. “Antrian fruit.”

She nodded thoughtfully, a wave of relief crashing over her to hear him speak at all. “The Antrians are a strong people then, because that was the worst fruit I’ve ever put in my mouth by a long shot.” She examined her nails, as though she really cared much. “Left a smell on my hands, I’ve washed them twice already.” She’d also tried to burn the smell off with electricity, but that also hadn’t worked. “I wonder if instead of water soluble sugars, it’s made of something else? That would explain why I hated it, humans might not actually be compatible with the chemical makeup. We’ll know when the bathroom lines reach out to the cars, I suppose.”

“Uh… huh.” It was almost a sound of agreement, or at least meant to sound like one, with about twelve of those fast, shallow breaths between the syllables. When she glanced up at him, his eyes had gone unfocused and cloudy.

He could kind of talk, which was good. She didn’t want to push her luck by drawing attention to the state he was pulling himself out of. So she just kept going, starting with a very long, deep inhale and sigh. Maybe he’d get the hint. She usually did when Crim did it, but everyone’s different. “Y’know, I talk a lot of shit, but I do have fun at these sometimes. It’s not the worst thing to look nice and eat weird food. Can’t say I’d recommend the “whole spoonful of just Gensoran caviar” thing but it’s a great story since I’m at these things all the time lately anyway.” She thought for a moment. “The dancin’s pretty alright too. I get some of my best thinkin’ done when I’m not hangin’ upside down, it turns out. I sent off a blueprint to my shop back home, they’re doin’ the rough fabrication for me so I can get the fine tunin’ out of the way on my own. I used to drive ‘em all nuts, gettin’ way too precise.” She had a faraway look in her eyes. She really didn’t think he’d notice. “I kinda miss my mechanics. With just Kelly to watch all of ‘em, I’d hope they can focus hard enough to get anythin’ done.”

He might have attempted to follow her example of a deep breath, but he didn’t make it far. His breathing got harsher as she spoke, but no slower or deeper. “A-Az—ure.” He could barely get the word out through his tight, shallow, breaths. His hand closest to her flexed, opening like he was searching for something to grab onto, and she could feel his leg start to tremble against her. He swayed on his feet, unsteady. He was moving now, but it seemed like his frozen state had been compensating for the lack of oxygen he was getting. Any clarity he’d been grasping for answering her questions was fading, and as it did that odd static fuzz picked up through the com again. Somehow, the sound was almost frantic, making her tense up as it invaded her mind.

She shoved the static away. She could have a secondhand panic at home, with Crim or Perry or something. Priority one: Trinity Jericho does not pass out on the floor of the balcony level stairwell in a ritzy ballroom. Priority two: Trinity Jericho does not get his panic revealed to the general public. In one fluid motion, she got to her feet. Somewhere, a violin bow began a slow trek along its strings. She caught the hand that had been flexing in her own, her other wrapping around his waist as she stepped in close. The same way he’d kept her upright countless times while she was still stumbling around in heels like a newborn giraffe. She was a lot shorter, but her cybernetics kicked in a little to help. Someone walked up the stairs and she gave them a shy smile, brain endlessly working. They passed by with little thought given to the couple dancing in the empty hallway. She thought into the comm, as soothingly as she could.

Lean in. I’ll lead this time. I promise you’re not heavy. Breathe, Trinity.

She wasn’t completely sure she was reaching him, but once he had something supporting him at least he could stop fighting so hard to hold himself upright under his own power. Almost his full weight dropped into her, and his head fell to her shoulder. She could feel tiny, hot puffs of air against her neck, as he fought to slow his breathing. His face was still blank of all emotion or expression, but the comm registered his terror— he couldn’t stop, couldn’t control it. His hands twitched, tightening around hers. She gave him a gentle squeeze back.

Breathe with the music. In-two-three-four, out-two-three-four.

She continued counting for him, keeping time with the lazy tune playing on the floor below as it floated up to them. She took no real steps, but kept a slow, steady, easy sway. She did the breathing herself, trying to drown his static with her own soothing patterns. Eventually, the rhythm of the swaying and the music started to break through the static— he managed a deep breath in, struggling to release it again as it caught in his chest, until he finally let it all out with a choking exhale. The next time he tried, it was slightly smoother, and he staggered in place. He would have fallen if it weren’t for her arms holding him up. His chest heaved in and out a few more times, and his legs trembled slightly.

“I’m. Fine. O—ok.” The words were robotic and clipped.

“That’s a lie, but you can talk now so I’ll take it.” She continued their swaying, keeping her breathing deep and slow. Her head turned to hide her mouth in his shoulder, away from anyone nearby who might be able to read lips and was piecing it all together. There was no one, realistically, but at this point she also just enjoyed the warmth. “I think I got cornered by every friend you’ve got at these damn things while tryin’ to find you. We can probably dip as soon as you’re ready. They can wait. You can go home, Hotshot. You don’t have to stay on this time.”

“Yes. I want to go… soon.” It was like he was reading a teleprompter. They swayed for a bit longer, as his breathing evened out, and after a moment, he tapped her on the shoulder, like he was trying to get her attention. “Can… we sit.”

" 'Course we can sit." She slowed them to a stop and let him onto his own two feet as gently as she could, easing him to the ground after that. She flopped down beside him with much less care and ceremony. She nestled herself into his shoulder, just in front of him enough to suggest she was ready to support his weight sitting, if he needed it. "Better?"

He braced himself against the wall as he slid to the floor. In the back of her mind, through the comm, she could hear what sounded vaguely like numbers, prime numbers, she realized after a moment. Soon enough, they stopped, and he took in another trembling breath. “Yes. Better.” He still didn’t sound like Trinity. It was hard to hear him sound so... absent. “I’m. Coming back.” He paused. “Know where I am. Sorry I… left.”

She leaned into him gently, lounging as casually as you can in a floor length gown. If he'd been mentally present, she'd have looked like a really old Terran lounge singer. All she was missing was a piano. Her mouth curved into its standard lopsided smile. "If you were just dealin' with what I think you were, I can't say I blame ya for dippin' out. Not exactly fun, Crim's told me." She rolled her shoulder a little. "I wasn't kiddin', you know. I managed to excuse you from the clutches of three of our favorites for the night. We really can just go home once you're back to basics."

He nodded stiffly, before letting his head loll back against the wall, as if he couldn’t quite hold it up on his own. “Panic attack. No reason. Just too much.” He pressed his hands to the cold tile of the floor, seeking something to feel. “In… a minute. I want to leave. Soon, I can… fake it. Enough to get out.”

She nodded back, eyeing another set of people making their way up the stairs. She sat up straight, shielding him from view, leaning in a little farther than she might normally, even for what she was here to pretend to be. "Take your time, Trinity." She whispered quietly. He couldn't really keep up an act right now, so she was going to have to put up twice as much. Sorry about this. I'm going to touch you, I'll try to make it as little as I can. She settled her arms around him, head on his shoulder. Her face said adoration while her eyes betrayed the thought involved as she tried to keep the touch as minimal as she could.

A shudder ran through him as the sounds of the other couple reached them, and his green eyes stared through Azzy instead of at her even as she leaned in close to shield him from their view. His breathing had begun to speed up just slightly, but he managed to at least keep it steady and deep with the help of a quiet chant of prime numbers that slipped into the back of her mind from his, clearly a strategy he had to keep focus and not fall back into whatever empty place he’d been before.

The passersby soon left their immediate vicinity, and Azzy pulled away from him slowly. With Crim, there was a 50/50 chance she'd be forbidden from moving and letting him go after a panic attack, so she wanted to give Trinity the option, if he could tell that's what was being offered. She searched his body language for what he needed, other than an opportunity to leave. She briefly wondered if just breaking down a wall and making their own door was that bad of a plan.

Trinity made no move to keep her in place, and his body language, like his face, was so still and blank that she couldn’t glean much of anything from it. She wondered what in his life had taught him to panic like this— silent and so absolutely contained that he nearly ceased to exist entirely. She took a deep breath, letting herself also slump against the wall and, for the first time since she found him like this, she looked away. Her eyes remained fixed on the stairwell, quietly willing the partygoers below to stay away as she continued to count the beat of the current song. She took herself away from being pressed to him entirely, giving him some few inches of space. Her part in this was done. All that was left was to wait it out. He’d pulled away from the comm again, closing his thoughts off, but she could hear him breathing steadily behind her as he pulled a bit more fully back to himself.

It took a few minutes, but eventually she heard movement behind her as Trinity shifted, clearing his throat. “Alright. I think I should be ready to go now, as long as we don’t have to stop and talk to anyone.” His voice moved up and down in a manner very similar to its usual inflection, but somehow after witnessing what she just had she could tell that it was all very intentional. It wasn’t his real voice, just a very clever approximation that would probably fool anyone who didn’t know him very well. With luck, it would be enough for them to make it out of the building. She got the feeling that it wasn’t going to get any better than this as long as they were still in the place where it had happened.

She stood and brushed herself off, rolling her shoulder and setting her jaw in its usual stubborn position. She offered him her hands to pull him to standing. “I’ve got it on the way out. Smile and nod like I’m sure you were plannin’ on anyway.”

In response, he simply smiled. Very convincing, except his eyes were still faraway and empty. “Of course. I’ve had to do this a couple of times before.” He didn’t say ‘alone,’ but she knew what he meant. It was maybe as close to a thank you as he could manage to get out right now. She gave a slightly sadder smile in response. She’d always been easy to read. It made her easy to talk to. Eyes becoming steely, she pulled him up.

“Okay, let’s go back to hell.”

“Already there.” He gave that same empty smile and followed.

She took his hand in hers and led him down the stairs. The difference from the lazing, relaxed person who’d just sat with him and held him literally upright, to the person leading him through the throng of the rich and forgettable was astounding. She’d never walked this tall at an event before, each step falling exactly where she’d intended it to. In her head, she tracked where she’d entered from, where there were the fewest people they knew and where there were the fewest people in general. She kept an eye out for people who’d been looking for him, breezing past Phineas without him sparing either of them so much as a glance. The usual easy gracefulness she was trying for was replaced with a purposeful stride, static in the air where she stepped.

She really just wanted to leave as soon as possible. Her brother’s voice rang in her head once more: “People with sense will get out of your way”. She hoped he was right, Trinity needed some fresh air at least. She wove through the crowds, exchanging passing pleasantries through kilowatt smiles and an ever so slightly played up drawl. Trinity barely had to look at who she was speaking to.

Somewhere along their way, so close to the exit, she turned a bit quickly, bumping into someone in a purple suit with an overabundance of jewelry. She heard the tinkle of breaking glass and the splash of liquid scattering from the broken cup. The man she’d just spilled wine on looked up from the tablet he’d been occupied with, his face, which might have been familiar had she bothered to think about it, written over with genuine surprise. Trinity’s hand tightened on hers, and she could feel his pulse pounding where his wrist pressed close to hers. She gave a quiet noise of surprise before collecting herself and trying to mind her manners without getting trapped by conversation. “My bad, s’cuse me sir-” She quipped out as she pushed past, pulling Trinity with her without a second thought, stride still sure. Was his breathing starting to speed up again? All the more reason to get out as fast as possible.

When they finally made it through the doors with no further issues and reached the empty stretch of driveway the car had been called to, Trinity dropped her hand and took a few more breaths to calm himself down again. He didn’t always trust what he saw in this state, but…

“Oh God,” He muttered, his voice dropping back into its low monotone. “Tell me he’s not following. I can’t…” words failed him, and he rubbed his hands together, trying to generate some feeling. He prayed the car would arrive soon. She looked behind them. No one.

“No one followed us, Hotshot. What’s got you bent outta shape again? I said excuse me.” Her words were callous, but she sounded genuinely concerned. She thought she’d done well, and he certainly seemed like he had more important things to worry about than her being a little rude on accident.

“I know.” He took in a breath too fast, and forced it to exit more slowly. “But he’s too observant. I can’t let him see… this. You-- you know how he is, don’t you.” It should have been a question, but the phrase didn’t go up at the end to indicate it.

She raised a brow, moving to touch his shoulder lightly, hoping to steady him on his feet a little better and give him something to ground with. “Tacky?” She, again, sounded genuine, making a little joke to lighten this bizarre mood they’d cooked up.

He turned to face her, and somehow her response shocked an actual expression out of him, his eyes slightly widened. “Azure. That man was…” a very slight twitch of the corner of his mouth, like this was something he really didn’t want to address. “My employer.”

Her mouth formed a perfect ‘o’ the moment the final syllable was out. It closed a moment later, and her brow furrowed, guilt all over her features. “That really is a problem then, ain’t it? Shit Trinity, I’m sorry. I was just tryin’ to get us both outta there. It’s not like its exactly my forte, bein’ in crowds.” She ran her hand through her curls, bunching them up at the base of her neck. Her hands sparked some but she didn’t shake them out. “Still I’m...shit, I’m sorry.”

He took a few calming breaths, trying to look reassuring, but he was clearly still struggling to be expressive. “It’s alright. He… didn’t notice anything. Won’t bother with it… once it’s not interesting anymore.”

Azzy bit back her Sounds like a real peach to know comment, only to realize a moment later she still had her comm in, and the sardonic tone was not subtle. She cleared her throat. “As long as you’re fine. I don’t exactly have a lot to fear from ‘im, so if you think you’re fine then you probably are.”

“I’m not afraid of him.” He sighed slightly and glanced down the road impatiently, waiting for the car to arrive. “But showing weakness is dangerous.”

Somehow, Azure managed to say nothing for long enough to choose her next words carefully. “Guess it’s good I didn’t see anythin’ then.” Her mouth molded the words in such a way that when they left her mouth, they carried the clear reminder she was technically a vigilante by trade as well as a cybernetic engineer: She was offering him the option to ask her to forget. To ignore the whole night, act like it had never happened. Nothing gained, nothing lost. Just a black box of a night she’d never bring up again.

He looked at her, putting together her meaning. After a moment, he gave a slow nod of his head. His eyes held hard steel that said he understood, and a flash of gratitude that she assumed was the last indication she’d get that anything happened, before he turned away again.

“I appreciate your company at these events, Azure. It certainly serves its purpose.”

She simply nodded in understanding as the car finally pulled up the drive, jewelry glinting in the moonlight and features placid. Face blank. Like nothing had happened. She glanced around to make sure there wasn’t anyone outside, before opening the door for him. A friendly gesture.

He smirked at her, this one closer to genuine than she’d seen all night, as he got into the car. “What a gentleman. Come on, you have to get back to the ship.”

She rolled her eyes and got in the car herself. “The lady’s in a rush to be rid of me. Forsooth, my heart. It breaks.” His smirk reflected back at him. He smacked her shoulder lightly as she got in, and the car finally pulled away from the event, headed for home.

9. Little Victories

Azzy’s feet hit the cold metal of the ship over and over, shoes in one hand and excessive skirt bunched high in the other as she ran clear across the entire crew quarters level from the entrance, leaving a trail of static in her wake. She’d long since abandoned any idea of propriety now that she was back on her own home turf. Her run stopped at the end of the hall, where hers, her brother’s, Periwinkle’s, Indigo’s, and Smalls’ cabins were clustered. Breathless and eyes alight with excitement, she knocked on Perry’s door, finally doubling over to pant and wait for them to answer.

The door opened on Perry’s confused face. “Azure, what—?”

Azzy stood up straight once the door opened, beaming if a little embarrassed by her own energy. “I want you to guess what I did today, you’ll think it’s hilarious.”

“Ok, well…” they blinked at her, clearly baffled. “You were off the ship today. With a ‘friend,’ wasn’t it?” It was an affectation— many of the people on the ship had figured out at this point where Azzy went when she was planetside and who she was with, and Perry specifically had probably known since date number two, but it was an unspoken rule to pretend they didn’t.

Azzy rolled her eyes at the implication. Trinity was a friend, and a good one. Even if he was, by every account, very shady. So were all of them, so who were they to talk? She pushed the retort back in favor of continuing to beam. “I ran into Fate. Quite literally, I might add. Spilled wine on him, heard the “oh!”, all of it. Ruined his shirt, I guarantee you, maybe that awful purple suit too. Not sure he knew it was me, because I sure as hell had to be told who he was. Why didn’t you tell me he was so tacky?”

Perry blinked, expression caught somewhere between abject terror and the sort of expression one might make after being smacked upside the head with a brick— and then he laughed out loud, the sound ringing down the halls of the ship. “I’m sure I’ve mentioned all those goddamn rings at least once.” She grinned, sharklike. “Bumping into him, spilling on his shirt, and worst of all, not knowing who he was? That sounds like his worst nightmare.”

Azure loved seeing her friend smile. Made her all fuzzy inside. She grinned back. “I think I might have blown him off a few more times before that too. I was tryin’ to find my date and he just kept puttin’ himself in my path. Like I didn’t have better things to do. I’m a livin’ taser, he’s lucky he wasn’t fried. I was already anxious as hell, it was more than possible.” She gave a little yawn. “Anyway, I’m beat. Have fun eatin’ puddin’ with my brother.”

Perry’s soft chuckle followed her down the hall as she left.

10. Handled

It didn’t hit Trinity until much later that night what exactly Azure had done while he’d been… incapacitated. He knew he was still far too anxious to sleep, no matter how exhausted he was, so he’d taken the advice he vaguely remembered from while Azzy’d been chattering to him earlier that evening and wrapped himself in a blanket on the couch with a cup of hot chocolate. There was no need to wake up his sister this late-- he’d just sleep tomorrow.

He’d already had the cocoa made when he remembered that it was Azure who’d mentioned it in the first place, and as he’d sat and slowly unraveled his tangled, panic laden memories of the night, he’d begun to piece together everything else she’d said and done. The first thing was how she’d handled finding him in that state. Others who’d stumbled upon him in the past had done everything from trying to shake him out of it to calling an ambulance, and not one had actually been helpful. He knew his attacks were strange and unfamiliar even to people who had ones of their own, but she’d simply waited, using sound and touch to bring him back until she could see what he needed. In some ways, he barely knew her, and yet she’d helped him out of it more quickly and painlessly than anyone except perhaps his sister ever had. How had she known, and honestly, why had she bothered? He’d almost believed she would just leave once he disappeared for long enough.

The next fact that rose to his mind as he considered everything else she’d said was the reason they’d been able to leave so quickly in the first place. Not only had she expertly hidden his compromised state from passerby while he recovered, but she’d been on her own in the crowds the whole time he’d been gone. He had no real concept of how long that had been, but it was impressive at any amount. Not only had she been able to wade through the masses of humanity successfully, she’d apparently expertly handled each business partner or contact he’d been meant to speak with tonight, to the point that not a single person had accosted them or vied for Trinity’s attention on the way out. Even the run-in with Fate, as stressful as it had been at the time, he was sure had been purely accidental. This one night alone had given Trinity more confidence in Azzy’s ability to conduct herself well at these events, more than any dancing improvement or small talk or perfect dinner etiquette. More than that, it was yet another example of something she absolutely didn’t have to do, but did anyway, for a reason he couldn’t puzzle out.

The final piece to the puzzle was her very last gift to him as they waited for a car-- an unspoken promise to forget this moment of weakness, never to bring it up again. It was easy to forget the real business she was in sometimes, that she traveled with a ship of vigilantes with checkered and secretive pasts and plenty of issues of their own. It was unlike him, but somehow he felt he could trust her with that weakness. Not only did he believe her when she said she would treat it as though it never happened, but he wasn’t afraid of it coloring her interactions with him. Even subconsciously. His memories of the night were still hazy and sorting through them was exhausting and painful work, but if he knew one thing, it was that he could trust Azure. If he’d thought it before, now he was sure.

Trinity pulled his blanket tighter around himself and took a sip of cocoa. She was right, this was much better than being in a crowded ballroom. He should do this more often.

Taglist (ask to be added or removed!): @glitterandstarshine @rainbowcoloreddays @the-starlight-chills @erased-in-stone @charlottedotexe

General: @elywritesbydarkness @residentofthedisc @humour-and-hyperfocus @skyfirewrites

#writeblr #writers on tumblr #spilled ink #wip: babylon #chapter update #babylon #trinity

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wilwywaylan · 4 years

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The Artist above and the Revolutionnary below - Part 3

Fandom : les Misérables

Modern!AU, Grantaire x Enjolras, 3501 words

Next part of the thrilling adventures of Grantaire with his downstairs guitar-playing neighbor ! Complete with foot-in-mouth disease.

Warning : some allusions to depression nothing really graphic, but still.

Contains some harsh opinions about protests ; that part has been written before the current events, and do not represent my views on the subject.

Beta-ed by the amazing @kujaku-myoo and read by the amazing-too @jesvisfarovche !

Also on AO3

When he opened his windows next afternoon, Grantaire was met with silence. Of course. He should have expected it. The rally was over, and Enjolras didn't need to practice guitar anymore. Good, now he could focus on his work without any disturbances, and finally finish his assignement. Nothing but peace and quiet, at last.

Of course, he couldn't fool anyone, him least of all. He perfectly knew that he was going to miss the music, due to the pretty blond that was the source of it. But what could he do He'd missed the opportunity to record his playing and use it as background music. He should get down, ask Enjolras to start playing again, maybe offer to teach him another song, They could sit on the balcony again, on those ricketty metal chairs that squeaked each time they moved, Enjolras' head so close to his, the blond curls tickling his cheeks....

Grantaire shook his head, trying to get rid of the pictures that kept flashing in front of his eyes. No, he was not going to step down for such a flimsy excuse, he was going to stay here, sitting on his stool, working of his painting, and nothing else. This was going to be a great day for his workload ! He could do it, he could totally do it !

He'd barely gave the first stroke of his paintbrush on the canvas when a voice rang out :

- R ? Are you.... are you there ?

It was Enjolras' voice, coming from the window.

- Are you there ? I can barely see your window open, so.... I think you're there ? Hello ?

Did he sound.... hopeful ? Impatient ? Grantaire really wanted to believe it. But he refrained his desire to run and throw himself at the window to see him faster. But defenestrating himself wouldn't really play in his plan of... what, in fact ? Sweeping Enjolras off his feet with his.... wit ? Presence ? Charm ? Something ? Or showing himself as the most stupid person in the whole building ?

Once assured he wasn't gonna flail or do a little victory dance, Grantaire leaned on the stony sill. To his greatest joy, Enjolras was looking at him, craning his neck upwards. And he was smiling.

Smiling.

At him.

Maybe he was dreaming. Maybe he was still sleeping and having the best dream ever. He discreetly pinched himself, and refrained from grimacing under the pain. Either he was dreaming the pain, or it wasn't a dream at all. It was real. It still had the same effect on him. And he needed to answer something.

- Oh, hello Angel. What's bringing you to my humble home today ?

Enjolras looked puzzled for a second.

- Your... oh yes.

- So what can I do for you ?

- Yesterday, you offered to discuss a few of my arguments with me. Do you still want to do it ?

- Right now ?

- If that's not a bother.

- I'm already on my way !

Grantaire didn't even spare a glance to his still very white canvas with absolutly no trace of work, just jumped in his shoes, and sprinted out.

Enjolras was waiting for him at the door, his cat held against his chest. He quickly let Grantaire in and closed behind him before letting go of the cat. The small beast trotted to Grantaire's feet, started sniffing at his shoes, then went to lie on the couch with obvious contentment.

- He seeems to like me, Grantaire remarked dryly.

- You're lucky. Usually, Jude isn't that welcoming.

Grantaire refrained to ask what he considered as "hostile".

- You called him Jude ? he asked instead.

- He likes the song.

Enjolras handed him a cup of coffee that Grantaire hadn't even seen him take. Maybe it was magic. Maybe he could materialize cups of coffee out of thin air. What a glorious super power. Grantaire took a sip to stop the enldess loop of his thoughts. And it was perfectly made, with just enough sugar, exactly like he liked. Enjolras had memorized how he drank his coffee, and he needed not to read too deeply into it.

- So, he asked, what did you need me for ?

- I have another rally...

- Another ?

- Of course, another. And another after that. We still have a lot to do.

- So you rally every week ?

- No. We have other activities, beside rallys, but those are the most effective to.... well, rally people to our causes.

- And what are they ? Beside maintening educational programs ?

- Stopping the systematic destruction of our labor laws, creating and upholding protection laws for all LGBT people, a distinctive diminution of racist, sexist, classist, homophobic and transphobic actions, at personnal and professionnal levels, and....

Grantaire nodded along, his eyes widening at each addition to the already long list. He was vaguely wondering if Enjolras had a deep secret, like an army of clones doing his bidding, or the ability to bend time and space, or travel back in time, or something. There was no way for a mere human to do all this and maintain a lovely appearance, or even a normal one. And still, he could bet there was no clone hiding in the bedroom. Enjolras was just that kind of person who flourished best when he took care of others.

- And what do you need my help with ? Grantaire asked when the list dwindled out.

- I'm planning a speech on the new retirement laws. But it needs to be perfect, and....

- I'm your man. Shoot.

Enjolras went to gather a handful of papers. Covered on both sides, in tiny script. Very, very tiny script. Grantaire rolled his eyes, trying not to show his distress. At least he got to stare at his vengeful angel while he walked back and forth, starting his speech.

After two minutes, though, the words started muddling in his mind. There was emphase in there, fire, intensity. It didn't make everything, of course, but it made for the arguments with conviction. Enjolras was the kind of person who could sway a crowd by the sheer strength of his passion, bring them to the point of rioting just by his words, his presence, his fervor. But fervor could onlt get you so far, and Grantaire could feel his concentration slip away from his grasp, slowly, slowly... until all he could do was stare at Enjolras' beautiful face. His hands were starting to itch, he needed a pencil, something....He spotted one half buried between the cushions, grabbed it and the nearest paper, and started scribbling.

- What are you doing ?

At the cold tone, Grantaire lifted his head. Enjolras was standing in front of him, hands on his hips. And frowning. Oh. Did he mess up, as usual ? Grantaire looked down at the half-formed drawing. Admitedly very nice, but he'd been totally zoning out, as he always did when drawing, and the past five minutes had been spent in a daze. Enjolras could have turned into the Victory of Samothrace or fly away by the window, he wouldn't have noticed. As he didn't notice that Enjolras has stopped talking, and was now glaring at him like he could set him on fire by the sheer force of his glare. Grantaire looked down, at the paper in his hands. It was quite good, he could tell, especially the eyes, and the curls on the forehead. Which didn't help at the moment.

- Did you even listen to a word of what I said ?

- You were talking about how unfair it was, that it's just a bandaid on a sucking chest wound and then....

- And then ? Enjolras repeated.

- And then.... something about statistics ? Maybe ?

- You haven't listened to a word I said.

Grantaire was half-tempted to deny it, but there would be no use. Enjolras had noticed, and he couldn't answer any question about his speech anyway. He just shrugged it off, trying to play it cool.

- What ? Enjolras asked.

- Your arguments aren't bad, but it's nothing I haven't heard yet.

- So I shouldn't bother, is that what you're thinking ?

- What makes you think they will listen, this time ?

Enjolras opened his mouth to answer, but Grantaire didn't stop.

- Because they won't, you know ? They absolutly don't care. They gave us a right to protest and a right to strike, but what good does it do ? Even when striking, there is still an obligation of minimal service, so the effect is lost. And the people you're bothering with the strike are not the people you want to reach.

- They can still join our cause, that's the goal ! Getting many people to our side !

- Do they ?

Enjolras glared at him, but didn't answer. Grantaire knew he should have stopped while he could still salvage something, but he couldn't, now that he'd started.

- They don't, he went on. They protest, and if the strike goes on too long, or if they start thinking you're impeding on their freedom of... going anywhere, or anything. They are okay with people striking as long as they aren't inconvenienced. But once it starts having an effect on them, their reaction is not to join in your crusade, it's to start complaining that you're ruining life, and to band against you, against your strike, your movement. And that's exactly what all those officials, all those who pass those laws, are counting on. Why do you think they always vote on them just before a holiday ? They know people will only care as far as allowed by their next trip, or their Christmas shopping frenzy, or...You get the jist. Then, when they are stuck because of you, they'll turn on you like rabid dogs, and they'll metaphorically tear you to shreds. In the eye of the public, you'll become the annoying pest, the one that spoils their projects, their holidays, the one who doesn't care about anything except their own goals. They'll brand you a selfish prick, they pretend you're the one curbing progress and the well-being of society, and in the end, things will go exactly as planned, but with the added bonus of people now being mad at you, and reacting negatively to anything you may do next. And you're back to square minus one.

Enjolras' frown had deepened as he spoke, and he looked angrier by the second. Grantaire already regretted his outburst ; his usual diatribe against strikes wasn't fit for all ears, and certainly not for someone he had just met, had a gigantic crush on, and was very, very passionate about world-changing. But it was too late ; taking all back wouldn't do any good. He would look like a liar. At best. At worst, someone who liked to agitate others for the sheer fun of it.

They stared silently at each other for an uncomfortably long time before Enjolras finally uncrossed his arms.

- I think you'd better go. I'll manage.

He picked up his cat and carried him to the balcony, craddled to his chest. There was nothing to add, so Grantaire just obeyed his wish, and let himself out without a word. The door closed with a soft noise that resounded all through his body like a gunshot. He managed to stay standing, and somehow, made his way to Eponine's door. His luck finally decided to kick in, because she was just going home when he arrived, saving him the trouble of knocking. She took one good look at his face, grabbed him by the sleeve and dragged him inside. He found himself laid down on the couch, wrapped in a gaudy plaid, with a cup of coffee in hand. Eponine didn't ask anything, and that was good, because he really didn't want to talk right now. All he wanted was to forget about everything for a while, and a Fear Factor marathon seemed to be the best option. Maybe tomorrow, all this would have disappeared. Just another bad dream swept under the rug. Tomorrow, it would be all right again.

~*~

It didn't. The next day hadn't changed a thing. It became obvious to Grantaire even before he got out of bed. Yesterday's events were weighing on him, hanging above his head like a sword of Damocles, crushing every thought, every hope he could have had about the situation. It was awful, it was Hell, everything sucked, life wasn't worth anything today. He'd spoilt everything by opening his big mouth, as he always did. Why couldn't he have just nodded and shut up while Enjolras talked ? It wasn't as he hadn't any experience in this, his studies had made him an expert. Instead, he had taken that relationship, the fragile bond between Enjolras and him, this tiny thread that only wanted to grow, and he had stepped on it, crushed it under the weight of his stupidity. Real smooth, Grantaire. Really. When was he going to learn, and stop wasting everything ? Never, it seemed. He was way better here, under his comforter where he couldn't act like an ass, an idiot or any combination of the two, probably for the rest of his life.

Two days went on like that, between the bed and the coffee maker, with a brief incursion to the tub for a warm bath where he just laid and stared at the ceiling. As he did when he was elsewhere in his flat. That's all he did during those two days, lie down and contemplate, mainly his errors, his failures and the dreadful stupidity that was sadly his. He hated being like that, it brought back memories of darker days not too long ago. He had thought those days being far away behind him, but it seemed that they always lurked near, ready to engulf him in the darkness at the slightest reason. He felt empty, and sad, and useless, and above all, stupid, unable to do anything good. Everything he touched, he wasted, in a way or another. Maybe he should stay there, and stop interacting with people ? Better for everyone, and better for him too. No contact meant no hope, and no way to dash those hopes. So he pulled the blankets over his head, ignored the furious blinking of his phone, and tried to forget about everything.

He could have stayed like this for weeks, only getting up if he didn't have any other option, and retreating immediately after in his burrow, if not for Bahorel. Any other person, not seeing a friend for a week, would have called, or maybe knock on the door. But those considerations were way too low for someone as determined as Bahorel. No, Bahorel just materialized in his room one morning, a paper bag in one hand and a pot of coffee in the other. Grantaire first thought of a hallucination caused by isolation, or maybe a night spent watching the worst conspirationist videos he could find, and just turned away. But hallucinations tended not to be able to grab and pull blankets, which that one just did. Bahorel sat on the mattress, pushing Grantaire's feet out of the way, pulled two cups out of seemingly nowhere, filled them with coffee and handed him one. Grantaire contemplated sending him away with a few chosen words, but finally, the smell of coffee and the sudden hunger at the sight of buttery croissants was the strongest. He sat up, pulling the covers back on his legs to keep his feet warm.

- What are you doing here ? he asked around a mouthful of crumbs.

- I haven't seen you around since the party, so I was wondering if you were sick.

- It's been only three days, you know. I could be busy.

- Well, are you ?

Grantaire gave his messy bed a pointed look.

- As you can see, he answered dryly.

- So, what's happening? Bahorel asked, refilling the cups.

- What makes you think something has happened ?

- You've missed our boxing meeting. You never miss those, not even when you're at Death's door and almost coughing a lung.

- I did that once, and you'll never let me forget it.

- I'll never let you forget that I had to carry you home and Bossuet had to tie you to your bed because Joly almost got a panic attack just seeing the state you were in.

- Good days, Grantaire sighed.

- If you wanna call them that... So, what's happening?

- You're not letting go, are you ?

- Never. So ? What happened ?

Grantaire carded a hand through his curls, grimacing when it got caught in the knots. That was going to be fun to untangle.... like the situation, his brain helpfully provided.

- I've been an ass with Enjolras, that's all.

Bahorel didn't react at the mention of Enjolras. He'd probably witnessed their interactions during the party. He just grabbed another croissant and let him talk. Which Grantaire didn't really want to now, but once again, he was on a roll. The whole story jumped out of him like it was just waiting for an excuse. Bahorel nodded, not once interrupting.

- So what do you plan to do ? he asked when Grantaire was done.

- What do you mean, what do I plan to do ? Haven't you heard a word I said ?

- I heard every word, even the ones you didn't say, which is quite a feat, if I must say. You've been an ass and said things you're not supposed to do especially on the one you have a crush on. And don't "I don't have a crush" me. It could be seen from space.

- And yet he...

- He's kinda clumsy when it comes to feelings. He's really nice, and warm once you get to know him, and he'll go to the end of the world for his friends, but... Unless you're really blunt with him, he... not that he won't understand, but he won't assume anything. You need to tell him if you like him.

- Thanks for your concern and advice, really, but I don't think they'll be of any help now.

- Why, because you opened your big mouth and stuck your feet in it ?

- Thank you a lot, really. It's making me feel much better.

Bahorel ruffled his hair, not commenting on the difficulty of doing so.

- Come on, it's not the end of the world. No, it's not. First, because a cute dude being mad at you isn’t the end of the world, or we wouldn't have made it past being bipedal. Second, because if you stop moping and start moving your ass, I'm sure you'll find a way to be forgiven.

- He'll never forgive me.

- If you stay here, sure, he won't. But maybe if you start with apologizing, he will.

Grantaire didn't feel particularly uplifted by the advice. Bahorel grabbed him by the shoulder and gave him a strong and somewhat clumsy one-armed hug.

- Come on. Use that big grey matter hidden in your cranial box. If you find something clever enough, he'll forgive you.

Grantaire wanted to protest, tell him that it was no use and he'd better not waste some precious time he could use to get ready to become a hermit. But already, his mind was starting to reel. Maybe... yes, maybe he could devise a way out of it.

Seeing him in better dispositions, Bahorel clasped him on the shoulder, hard enough to sink him five centimeters in the mattress, and got up.

- Godspeed, my friend. And please keep me informed, you know I like nothing more than gossip.

- It's only gossip when one is not part of it.

- Then good for me, because I'm not small, blond and angry. Now, as much as I'd like to know what's running through your mind, I must go. I have a small redhead expecting me with breakfast.

Grantaire held out the paper bag, but Bahorel just shook his head.

- Keep it. It's good food for the brain.

He was leaving the room, when Grantaire called out.

- Wait, how did you get in ? I didn't leave you my keys.

- Do you think I need keys ?

- You picked my lock ?

- Spending time with Jehan and Montparnasse is really formative, you should try it.

- I don't want to become jailbait like you.

Bahorel responded with fingers guns and let himself out, humming something that sounded like Jailhouse Rock. Grantaire barely heard the door close, his mind already working on the several steps his ambitious project would need.

#les miserables #grantaire #enjolras #enjoltaire #more shenanigans #grantaire is an idiot #nothing new #harsh opinions inside #not really mine #but harsh #small descriptions of depression #but that's all

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