#nothing against non-object joke characters of course

[mirkodoesstuff]

Hot take: I think there should be more non-object AND non-joke characters, that would be important for either their OCs lore, their show lore etc., because who wouldn't love to have an OC, who's, for example, a cat that is actually important and isn't there to just make a joke about how they're not an object or just do nothing and get eliminated/get hated.

Like, seriously, why are you all afraid of making interesting non-object characters, that aren't joke characters? Of course I have nothing against non-object joke characters, because I love Yellow Face from BFDI series and also I really like David and Dora, but MAN things could be way cooler if there were more non-object non-joke characters, who were for example guards over objects, or even were a co-host, or heck, had lots of knowledge over objects.

Just imagine the scenerio, where a bunch of objects need help and, instead of going to the host of the competition/their other friends - they decide to go to, for example, a cat to ask for an advice for help and the cat actually helps, instead of being there for humour. Or even better - a group of objects have to save the world from something and they're deciding to get help from a dragon, who helps them get rid of the danger!

Just imagine it... Imagine it how epic those things would become if we got to see more important non-object non-joke characters!

GET CRAZY WITH YOUR OBJECT SHOW OCS! DON'T CARE ABOUT WHAT WOULD OTHER PEOPLE THINK! DO WHAT YOU WANNA DO!

[capuletangel]

Slow Like Honey

Word Count: 3928

Story Summary: Ben Solo falls into a deep obsession with the local new baker, and Ben always gets what he wants.

Tags: DEAD DOVE; Stalking, Obsession, Creepy Ben Solo, Non-Con, Bittersweet Fluff, Misogyny, Major Character Death, Dark Themes and Eventual Smut. AFAB.

Also Posted To AO3 | Wattpad

This chapter is inspired by the opening scene in Hungry Hearts <3

Masterlist

Chapter Three; She’ll Learn

Like every other Friday, Ben found himself at The Moth and The Moon, a rundown bar that his work colleagues dragged him along to. He sips his beer whilst zoning out at their conversations.

His thoughts wash the mindless trills of his co-workers out as he continues to think about her.

Her sleeping body looked so dainty as she lay sleeping. He couldn't get it out of his mind. He sees her every time he shuts his eyes. It makes him hazy. He couldn't wait to be with her.

Enjoy the small things of their relationship. Waking up in the mornings to her face against his chest, brushing his fingers through her hair, inside jokes. And, of course, intimacy.

He didn't mind going to the bar. God knows he needed a drink. She'd like it—dark wood panelling, creaky furniture, the dim lighting that she loves. It's warm and cosy, but he didn't feel it.

He was aching to see her again. And hearing other people talk was just reminding him. Nodding along to blurred conversation topics.

His coworkers weren't like him. They weren't gentlemen. The small things, the things that Ben likes, they didn't appreciate. They didn't respect women, talking about their flings as if women were nothing but a means to an end, objects.

Though, the women that they attracted weren't like her. No one was. Incomparable. She's cute, shy, and intelligent.

Taking off his plaid shirt that laid open, sitting it on the back of his chair, shifting in the black t-shirt he'd worn since that morning. Rising from his seat and heading to the restroom, his co-workers didn't question where he was going or even glance up.

Why would they? He thought they'd forgotten he was there.

Ben wasn't even sure why they'd invite him along each week. Perhaps it was a humiliation tactic of sorts, reminding him of how he didn't belong. Didn't fit in. Ben had never fit in. Not anywhere, or with anyone — excluding her, of course.

Not in kindergarten, not in elementary school, not in middle school, and especially not in high school.

He was odd. Quirky — a round peg in a square hole, is what his counsellor once told him. Much more aggressive when he was younger, struggled to handle not getting what he deserved.

He'd had a girlfriend once—but that got messy. He preferred not to think about it. Didn't have to anymore, not now he knew her.

The floorboards groaned under his work-boots that were still caked in dry mud from the ranch. He had to crane his neck as he walked through the small hallway that led to the stairs.

Why they'd chosen to place the bathroom so far away from the bar was beyond him, but he just needed to breathe. To be alone if only for a few seconds.

The stairs were cramped, littered with small stains and splatters of paint from when they'd first decorated the bar. His foot barely fit on them. He had to be careful to watch his step. Otherwise he'd fall.

Fall and then he'd have to explain his bruises when he came to the bakery next. Have her look up at him in concern. He'd break if she looked at him with those wide eyes. Everything in his life now concluded to what she would think? What would she say? What would he tell her?

No longer concerned with his selfish internal struggles, they ended when he met her. Not obsessed — Ben isn't a creep — just holding himself accountable to her. She mattered more to him than anything else.

The bathroom was shabby, a unisex restroom with a small sink and two tight stalls, one facing the door and one facing the sink. The walls were peeling, brick showing in small patches against an off white paint. They had placed a small light above the sink, a dull bulb that kept flickering from a lack of energy.

He walked into the one opposite the sink. The other was occupied. Leaning his head on the door when he locked it, rubbing his eyes, frustrated with his endless thoughts.

He's twenty-eight and acting like a schoolboy, fixated on a twenty-year-old baker. It was romantic, an affair written by fate, it seemed. He couldn't help it. Ben is a nice guy, not some creep.

His eyebrows furrow as he heard cursing and muttering from behind the door, a woman clearly but he couldn't make out much more. Sounded like some sort of struggle. Ben is a gentleman. He could help — she'd find him admirable, letting him recall a story of when he helped a woman at the bar the next time he went to the bakery.

Waiting a moment before deciding to flush the chain and unlocking the door, it let out a squeak as he did, proving the neglect of the owners. The bar was practically falling apart.

Eyes widening as he laid his eyes on the woman in-front of him. Her. Frantically rattling the doorknob, hair dangled over her face in soft waves, a panicked look that couldn't be missed — which turned to bewilderment as she turned to look at Ben.

"Kid?"

"Ben?"

They speak in unison. Ben looks towards the entrance door she is trying so hard to open. "It-It's jammed, I can't get it to open," she blushed, now taking her hands away from the knob, but still looking at it with a frustrated expression, tucking her hands into her green sleeves.

Ben has to forcefully tear his eyes away from her.

He's sure it's fate now.

What were the chances of them getting stuck in a bathroom together? Out of all the people, it was her. He couldn't help but find her flustered state compelling.

Ben nods, "I'll see if I can..." he trailed off as he brushed past her, holding back a shiver as he finally felt the fuzzy green material of her sweater that he'd been seeing for weeks on end, "sort something out."

His hand hooks around the rusted silver orb, twisting it and pulling. No luck. He tried again with more strength. Nope. It wasn't going to happen. "Third times the charm..." he pulled once more and, unsurprisingly to Ben, the handle came off as he pulled.

He worked with his hands for a living. Of course, he would break it.

Turning to face her, still clasping the handle in his hand, a stupid smile on his face as an apology. Her brows rose in surprise, huffing an unsatisfied whine, "Well, that's not good."

Ben's head was going wild. Perhaps not for her, he thought. He watches as she concentrates on what to do, biting her nails.

"Are you alone?" Ben asks, wanting to know why on earth she was there. She wasn't of legal age, she shouldn't be going out with older men, they're only interested in one thing.

"Yeah," she hums, getting more anxious as each second went by. He could tell by the way her breathing picked up and she picked at her cuticles. "I needed to use the restroom on the way home, and the bakery doesn't have a toilet, so sometimes I come here."

Good, Ben thought. She wouldn't be going out with other guys. She's not like that, she's sweet. Pure. She's his.

"Do you have your phone? I left mine at home today."

Ben nods, but he knows they don't have a phone at the main bar. It'd be a while before anyone picked up.

He slotted the doorknob back into its original place before slipping his phone out of his pocket.

"Yeah, I'll call them," he says, typing in the bar to google to get the number, dialling it and holding it to his ear. Watching her out of the corner of his eye as she stared at the floor.

If normal people saw Ben staring, watching out for her, caring for her — they'd think he's fucked up. Stalking an innocent girl. Perving on her.

But Ben thinks most people drone on and on about what they can't get. They wouldn't like that he's trying, that he's looking out for her.

She has standards. She is waiting for someone to sweep her off of her feet. Ben sees it every time she looks at him. Yearning to be held. To be loved. Capitalising the one that she dreams of.

Such small hands, he watches her fumble with them.

"It wrung out," Ben sighs with fake frustration, ringing the number again to act as if he is just as desperate to get out of the intimate space. "Wrung out again," he shakes his head, slipping his phone back into his pocket. Eyeing her with concern.

God, she really was anxious about this. Deathly pale, hands shaking, chewing on her lip as if it were gum, "Are you okay, kid?"

Her eyes flicked up, tears brimming in the corners. His heart smashed in his chest. She must've hated him. Disgusted to be in a room with him. Had he imagined the interactions they'd shared for the last few months? Was he completely delusional?

"I'm sorry—I struggle with claustrophobia and this... this room is feeling more squashed by the second."

Okay, he wasn't delusional. Thank god, he knew he wasn't. That this was meant to be. His heart was racing at the thought of her having a panic attack.

"Hey, hey," he craned his neck to her height, reaching his hand out to massage her shoulder, finger tips coaxing her skin tenderly, as if she were a fragile china doll.

Her skin, so soft beneath his fingertips, like some sort of luxurious silk, faint goosebumps raised up her arms. "It's alright, I'm here—you'll be okay, you trust me? I've got you."

How long he'd been waiting to say that. Waiting for the perfect opportunity. And here it is, in some shitty bar restroom. Fate's unusual, he'll give it that.

She nods, shuffling where she stood, offering a shy thank you, rubbing her eyes. Too rough, in Ben's opinion. He wants to scold her, but stops himself. He'll teach her how to look after herself, she'll learn. But, he can't yet.

"Are you with anyone?" She sniffles, "Will anyone notice you're gone?"

Ben almost laughs at the question, "A few co-workers, but, no, I don't even think they knew I was there in the first place," he chuckles at his own answer, but her face turns sympathetic. He grinds his teeth, resisting the urge to touch her more, hug her. Squeeze her.

She's so caring. She cares about him, and how his co-workers treat him.

He rises now, neck relaxing and hand, reluctantly, dropping from her shoulder.

"What do you do for work?"

"I work on my family's ranch. It's pretty boring—I handle the livestock, drive tractors, operate power tools... sometimes I fish... it depends."

Her face lit up as she forgot about the door. About the room crushing her and swallowing them both whole. She's interested in his work. She's interested in what he said. She's interested in Ben. That's new. Rare.

"Really? I've always wanted to... live quaint on a farm—I lived in a city for so long it drove me insane."

"Maybe I'll take you one day?" Ben suggested, trying to sound as normal as possible. It could be a date. If she wanted it to be. She would. She found him attractive, his frame, how he could protect her if need be, coddle her, how he had such a quaint lifestyle.

"I'd... I'd love that," she smiles shyly, tightening Ben's insides.

"I noticed the bakery wasn't open on Monday and Tuesday. Is everything okay?" Ben pried, but when he watched her face drop, he wondered if he shouldn't have said anything. So stupid. So reckless, Ben is an idiot.

Her head bows for a moment, hair covering her face when she looks back up, tears were once again coating her eyes, already one spilling down her cheek.

"I... My dad, remember I told you... why I moved here? Well, he's deteriorated much faster than... then they thought he would," a small sob left her mouth, Ben's breath caught in his throat, "they have moved him to palliative care."

Ben already knew, of course. He'd heard it from her wardrobe, but he faked surprise. Muttering small apologies and condolences as he wrapped his arms around her petite frame, hand on her head to stroke her hair. Savouring the feeling of her breasts pushed against his chest. He was hugging her. Comforting her, just like he knew he would.

"It's okay," his shirt muffled her voice, "I knew it was going to happen at some point... sorry."

Ben's eyebrows furrowed as he heard the apology slip, moving his hand from her hair, instead rubbing circles into her back. "Why are you apologising?"

"I'm probably ruining your top."

Ben couldn't help but chuckle. "I don't mind." It was true. He relished the thought of her crying on his top. Gaining solace from him.

"Thank you," she sniffles, rubbing a hand over her eyes, once again too roughly, and pushing herself away from his chest. Ben wanted to reel her back in. "Really, Ben. You've always... been nice to me. Ever since I moved here."

If she only knew, Ben thought. Internally cheering at the thought of her being grateful to him. He hadn't gone unnoticed. He was right about how she felt. He knew, knew there was something there. "Of course, you're sweet."

A blush grew on her cheeks as she smiled up to him, but her eyes moved to the door and it dropped, remembering why they were in the cramped bathroom in the first place. "What are we going to do?"

Ben wanted to say, do we have to do anything? Couldn't we just wait here until someone comes to use the bathroom? But he was her knight in shining armour. It was clear from the way she looked at him. She looked like a puppy, craning her neck to look up at him.

"I could try to kick it down?" She nodded in response, still playing with her hands. Ben hummed, walking over to the door and giving it a kick. It didn't move. Perhaps he was dulling down his strength, but she wouldn't have to know. He tried again, still no result.

"Can you call again?"

Ben nodded, knowing it would ring out again. But, despite that, he would do it for her. Everything he did was for her. Listening to the tone, the dull ring, as she looked at him with hope — pleading eyes — he'd do anything for her.

Anything to protect her, for a simple acknowledgment that meant everything. His heart sank as someone picked up the phone, but he covered it with a smile.

"Hey, I'm stuck in your bathroom downstairs—yeah, the door's jammed—me and a woman—Ben—yeah, Ben Solo—yes, Han's son, do you think you could help, it's just that we've been stuck in here for quite some time—okay, thank you, sir."

"Someones coming." The only thing that lifted Ben's mood was her bright smile, nodding to his achievement. "Hey," Ben wavered, rubbing the back of his neck to soothe his nerves, pinching his skin, "do you want to get a drink, maybe? I'll pay, of course, as a gesture of not being able to kick the door down myself."

The blush on her cheeks got deeper, and her smile turned into a grin, revealing her teeth. But then it faltered, and so did Ben's hopes. "I'm not twenty-one yet," she reminded, chewing on her lip.

"You're in rural texas now, city girl," Ben laughed, "they won't ID you."

"Okay then, if you insist."

Ben's heart was throbbing against his chest. He couldn't help the delighted smile that was plastered on his face. She wanted to get a drink with him, which meant she enjoyed his company.

There was a loud thump on the door, followed by a murmur. She made a surprised noise and backed herself into the corner to avoid being in the way.

Ben almost whimpered at how adorable she was, watching her squish into the corner with that meek look on her face. He followed suit, not because he cared about being caught in the stampede, but because he wanted to be close to her.

Shuffling into the corner, awkwardly apologising as he raises his hands closer to his chest, brushing over her breasts, but she just smiled up at him. The air was thick. Her lips. Ben couldn't help but think about them. Soft. Plump.

He could kiss her right now if he wanted to. He wouldn't, of course he wouldn't. Ben is a gentleman. But he could. They were inches away from each other. The only separator being his height.

He wondered if she could feel it too, the tension. She lifts her head up, raising on her toes to get closer to him. Ben stood frozen, breath shallow as he moved his eye line down to her lips.

Was she going to kiss him?

Time stood still for Ben, anticipating her next few moves. Seconds felt like hours. But she moved her head upwards, lips a few inches from his ear instead of his lips, which they had been almost touching for a few milliseconds.

"They're coming to rescue us," she hummed with a playful smile. He could feel her hot breath against his neck. It made his head spin. He let out a light chuckle, finding her eyes, his own hooded — representing the daze he was stuck in. He knew she felt it, too.

Her hands rested on his chest in surprise as the door swung open with a bang. The intimate nature of the contact gave him a head rush. He thought of as many turn offs as he could to keep his erection at bay. It worked, but wouldn't for long.

The man inspected the door, apologising. "We've been meaning to get it fixed for a while, but y'all know how it is."

"Of course," Ben nodded, stepping out of the corner, with her still behind him. "No worries, thank you." The man waved himself off, walking back up the stairs as he whistled a tune.

"So, how about that drink, kid?"

They chatted for hours — about Seattle, fishing with her father when she was younger. Ben remembered the photo of her in those red rain boots. Ben talked about the ranch, how he'd never been to the west coast — or the east coast. He's never stepped foot outside of Texas.

"So, you were serious about letting me see the ranch?"

Ben nodded, sipping his beer. "Of course, kid. No fucking doubt, I'd love... I'd love to spend some time with you," he confessed, nervous if she'd call him a creep or refuse his offer. But her face lit up, giving him that smile that made him want to bowl over and clutch his heart.

"I'd like that," she admitted, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear as she looked up at him. Ben felt that she was an angel. The glow of the lamp behind her just reinstated that. Casting a halo like glow over her.

Her eyes were glassy because of the dim light shining and filled with hope. She'd like to spend time with him. She feels the same way. Stares at Ben just how he stares at her. She sees him.

"I'm glad to hear that," Ben understated, picking at the coaster his glass sat on. He couldn't stop the crooked smile that spread across his face. He melted into her presence. All of her words wrapped him up and comforted him.

Everything from the cadences in her tone to how she looked when she spoke.

So shy and sweet, like she was afraid Ben wouldn't feel the same way. Ben could have laughed at that — her thinking it was one sided, but she'd learn. He'd show her how much she meant to him.

"So, would you be interested in fishing? With... me?" He mentally rolled his eyes at how weak he sounded, fumbling for any excuse to spend time with her.

Her face lit up at the offer, eyes brightening as she nodded. "I used to go fishing with my dad, back in Seattle — as I said before — but I was only about five, so I don't know much." Her voice faded at the end, looking up at Ben through her eyelashes as she trailed off.

His heartbeat raced at the sight, blood thumping in his ears as he imagined what she'd look like down on her knees.

He coughed at the thought, brushing a rough hand through his hair to distract himself from the aching boner which sat pressed against his jeans, chafing uncomfortably.

"Oh, don't worry about that," he waved a hand through the air before returning it back to his glass, squeezing it so hard that it could've broken at any moment. "I'll teach you — it's easy to get the hang of — if you could do it when you were five you can do it now," his voice came out tense, a hollow laugh following his words. He watched her as she looked for something around the room.

Was he boring her? Did she know he had a boner? Did he make her uncomfortable? The thoughts were painful as they ran through his brain, scrutinising himself at the thought of making her upset.

"Are your coworkers still here? I'm not keeping you, am I?"

Ben softens at the idea of her being concerned that she was keeping him . And at the irony of the question. Raising his hands in a surrender pose, pleading that it couldn't be further from the truth.

"No, no. Not at all, I was going to leave after using the bathroom anyway — we aren't exactly best pals," locking eyes with the ginger man that sat at the further end of the bar, whose attention was on the girl who sat in-front of Ben. As if he couldn't make sense of the situation.

Neither could Ben. Smirking to himself at the realisation he was sitting with her in a bar, and she was drinking a drink that he'd bought her. He wasn't watching her from across the bakery, from the parking lot which sat opposite her apartment, or on some social media website he didn't understand. This was her . Talking to him.

She was talking to him like Ben was any other guy. He was more than that, too. Caring, polite, charming and good. Ben is a good man.

"Oh," she frowned, perhaps remembering what he'd told her in the bathroom, "I wish I had co-workers. It can get lonely — you know."

Ben nodded. He knew exactly what she meant. For so long, Ben had been lonely. Unbelievably so. He'd go so long without communicating that when he finally went to the store, his throat would be cracked and hoarse when he offered a simple 'thank you' to the previous cashier. Until he saw her, of course. When he saw her for the first time, everything mattered. Like dusting a lamp.

His bulb flickered on at the sight of her, in more ways than one.

He wants to tell her she isn't alone — not when he's there. Protecting her. Even when she doesn't know it, Ben's there. They wouldn't have to be alone anymore.

She'd never be alone again.

Ben wouldn't let her.

[suna-reversed]

𝐩𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡

toji fushiguro x reader

You could have anyone you want

Why would you want to be with me?

I’m nothing special

WC- 8k+ || MINORS DNI !!

my fic for the “great conjunction collab”

Warnings/tags- (unprotected sex, oral sex, slight voyeurism, choking, nipple play, mating press, size kink, slight breeding kink) (historical AU, non-canon timeline, greek mythology, hades-persephone retelling, mentions of misogyny/sexism, depression, religion, hurt/comfort, angst, heartbreak, major character injury, descriptions of blood, violence and death, manipulation)

𝙀𝙧𝙞𝙙𝙖 - 𝙝𝙖𝙩𝙧𝙚𝙙

It would be an understatement to say that Toji, despite being one of them, had never felt like part of the clan and had hated the whole Zenin bloodline through all his years of suffering.

And the only thing he hated more than his own blood? It was the damned nobles who looked down upon him- mocking his lack of power under whispers and rumours. The spineless cowards didn’t even have the courage to spit those venomous words at his face.

He kept note of every single one of them- it was hard not to with how their laughs echoed in his mind each night as he dug his nails into his palms. So of course his attention was bound to drift towards the mother and daughter from a titled family that happened to take residence in the Zenin estate when they got news that their home down-south had been attacked. 

𝘼𝙨𝙩𝙧𝙖𝙚𝙖- 𝙞𝙣𝙣𝙤𝙘𝙚𝙣𝙘𝙚 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙥𝙪𝙧𝙞𝙩𝙮

Your home had not been attacked. It was all planned of course- your travel to the mountains up north that crossed the Zenin abode, your mother having fabricated the news so that she had an excuse to find an honourable match for you from one of the most powerful clans. Her sly spies had already done the dirty work, providing you with two suitable men- even if one of them was twice your own age and the other known for his aggressiveness. 

The white gown your mother had dolled you in and the orchids she had braided into your hair had every single eye focused on you as you made your way up to your chambers. You kept your head down, too nervous to meet the eye of anyone- hoping no older man took an interest in your facade of purity and innocence and decided to stake his claim on your body. Oh, how you wished you could get away from this life, get away from the wretched woman you had to call your mother, get away from all of it- the stupid clan- the stupid suitors- the stupi-

“Ah!” 

You yelped as your body crashed into what seemed to be a rock hard wall of muscles, the scent of night chilled mist and cedar taking over your senses. You blinked. 

Gulping, you moved back a step, ready to start sputtering apologies before your mother peeled your skin off for already having embarrassed yourself. Instead, your words stayed stuck in your throat as your gaze met with an intense pair of orbs- filled to the brim with the rage of achilles, but somehow also his sorrow. Your breath hitched in your throat, and in the back of your mind, you knew you should do something- move, apologise, scowl like a noble lady would if nothing else- but all you could do was stand there stunned, the man’s stance mirroring your own. 

You flinched as the pot-bellied butler who was leading you down the hallway came back, and you thought the dark haired man might kill him right there for interrupting the burning moment between you two. Instead, you were shocked as he let himself get pushed to the side, stuffing his hands into his pockets, head down as he made a beeline towards the exit.

You barely felt the crescent moons being engraved into your skin as your mother dragged you to your room by the arm, a clipped smile on her face. 

𝙊𝙧𝙥𝙝𝙚𝙪𝙨 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙀𝙪𝙧𝙮𝙙𝙞𝙘𝙚- 𝙛𝙤𝙧𝙗𝙞𝙙𝙙𝙚𝙣 𝙡𝙤𝙫𝙚

“Toji”

He continued walking, even as his eyes held a warning look. Gritting his teeth, he increased his pace.

“Toji-”

He shuddered. Say it again, he wanted to command, instead he turned the corner, hands curling into tight fists.  

He had been confused at first, almost appalled, at you- at your audacity to try and act like he wasn’t who he was- a piece of scum, the lowest of the lowly in the clan. But it seemed like this is how you had decided to spend the rest of your time whenever you weren’t being flagged by suitors or being paraded around your mother as the ideal of a chaste loyal wife. 

He had indulged you the first time you had struck up a conversation. Perhaps that was his initial mistake. His second being committed just now as he turned to you, the glee on your face making bile rise up to his throat. He had seen women like you before- well born “ladies” of the court in dire need of a good fuck, before they were packaged off like objects to a husband who’d only ever look at them as a vessel for carrying his children. Toji huffed in annoyance, eyes doing a quick scan of his surroundings before he grabbed your wrist and pulled you into one of the storage rooms right around the corner. 

“Look-”

Toji cut himself off as he saw the baffled look on your face, your eyes starting to fill up with fear and panic. Somehow, he found himself speechless, the bitter words of telling you to go look for pleasure in a whorehouse now dissolving on the tip of his tongue.

He knew who you were being considered as a match for- having overheard the conversation during a clan meeting- it was supposed to be the sons of one of the higher ups and he could already picture the half wilted life you’d be living. And right then, something clicked in Toji’s mind- all those years of hatred and resentment flashing before his eyes as you hesitantly stepped back, tears welling up in your eyes, and right there, Toji knew what he wanted to do- what he had to. 

He took a deep breath and your heart hammered even harder in your chest. He had been different from the rest of them- you had known it from the first time. However, now you doubted your own wits, trying to recall the ways of combat you had seen the soldiers back home perform- even though you didn’t quite see how you’d succeed against the tall burly mass of flesh that towered above you. You jumped back as he strode right towards you- eyes clenched shut, hands raised in front of your face ready for the impact and pain. 

You were met with nothingness, barely feeling the light brush of his arm as he moved past you. 

Toji sighed at your almost childish antics, even though he agreed your actions would have been justifiable if it was any other man having pulled you into such a secluded place. He waited for you to calm down, lazily looking for the latch of the huge glass window situated on the other side of the room. He easily lifted it open, biceps flexing as he did so- placing his hands on the ledge before pulling himself to the other side.

He turned back towards your gawking figure, rolling his eyes, ready to put forward the offer that would decide if you were worth his time and effort or not. He extended his hand, trying to ignore the heat crawling up to the tip of his ears at the giddy relief-filled grin that spread across your face as he asked, 

“You ever visited the countryside princess?” 

--

You must be an angel in disguise, he finds himself thinking. It terrified him- the time he had spent staring at the column of your neck, watching your chest fall and rise with every breath- and the time he could have spent simply admiring every crook and nook of your body. 

You looked serene in the golden hour of the afternoon, lying on the grass with your eyes shut, sunlight cascading down your figure making it seem as if you carried your own halo. Toji was afraid you’d sprout wings any second now, disappearing away to someplace heavenly- someplace better than the hell you were about to be condemned to- someplace that didn’t have monsters like him. But at last, you were only a human- soon to be one of the Zenins if nothing else. 

The time you had sneaked out to the lake in the countryside with him had not been the last of your rendezvous. You had been quite different from what Toji had expected. You hadn’t made any advances towards him but you weren’t the pure little thing everyone believed you to be either.

You were smart to say the least- a trait that families often suppressed in women of your status, trying to force them into nothing but submissive concubines for their future husband. You were oddly aware of it- had mentioned your doomed fate quite a few times now, and he was struck by how you always laughed, as if your own self being stripped away was a joke. You seemed to do that quite a bit, and he understood it in some twisted way of his own plight. 

Even as his mind kept reminding him that you had still grown up being pampered, being spoiled, having others do your work for you- others like him. But conversation had flowed so naturally with you, he found himself showing you more and more of his places of solitude he had found all over the village through his years of misery.  

You were also naive in many ways, but still blunt in twice as many. Toji had rolled his eyes as he had asked you what you did with your free time back home- the answer was expected- it always had to be something related to the arts and education, trying to pump the ladies full of culture so that they have something to talk about at the dozen balls and galas they’d be attending every month. However, he had almost choked on the pear he chewed as you had started listing names of erotica after erotica- the titles being lewd enough to let him know just how filthy the content inside would be. 

You had burst into laughter at the look on his face, crumbs of fruit left on the side of his mouth making him look even more bizarre. You had reached up your fingers almost instinctively, eyes widening as you realised you had brushed them over the scar he never seemed to talk about. His hand was wrapped around your wrist in less than a second, halting it in place. 

He had stared right back at you, breaths heavy, eyes calculating as he loosened the grip around your skin, but not before he lifted your fingers to press against the mark once more. You swore you could have heard the drumming of your heart, and perhaps he did too.

As you brushed away the remaining bit of the sweet fruit, you couldn’t help but notice the flush that had formed on his cheeks, even as he scowled. 

𝙀𝙧𝙤𝙨- 𝙥𝙝𝙮𝙨𝙞𝙘𝙖𝙡 𝙙𝙚𝙨𝙞𝙧𝙚.

“You’d better be quiet or everyone’s going to know what a naughty little slut you are.”

You’re bent over the table in the storage room that has somehow become your portal of escape from the person you have to pretend to be. It’s not the first time Toji has whispered his filthy administrations into your ear, but he’s never done it quite so close to where anyone could walk in and catch you red handed. 

Perhaps it was the fact that his face had turned a sick shade of green at the sight of your suitor tucking your hair behind your ear, your lips twitching upwards at something he said- the same way they had twitched up the night before when he had risen from in between your legs, the taste of yourself flooding your mouth as he had pressed his lips to yours. 

This is exactly what you were here for, and despite it, Toji knew who’s name you screamed at the end of every day. So then why did another hand on you ignite a bestial flame inside his chest? Why did he feel the need to pull you away in the dead of the night amongst the crowd of tipsy people, ridding you of the fabric of your dress in one swift movement as he had pressed you against the nearest surface. 

You didn't panic for even a moment, you knew it was his hand just from the touch of it, his hot breath against the shell of your ear, and his throbbing member pressed against the curve of your behind as a thumb rubbed circles into your hip bone. 

You throw your head back against his muscular chest, craning your neck upwards till you meet his eyes- they soften for the briefest of moments, but the way his tip brushes against your underwear-clad core seems to fill them with raw electricity once more. And you think he’s going to fuck you right there- make you cry out his name for letting another man so close to you. Instead, you gasp as his rough hands grab the flesh of your thighs, kneading the muscle as he spins you around, a smirk being flashed your way as he gets on his knees. 

He looks ethereal in that moment. And your breath hitches in your throat as you realise you’ve made a fallen angel bow before you- have tricked him into thinking you can cleanse him of his deeds when the only sinner in this room was you. The way his lips press against the inside of your thighs, nose rubbing against your freshly flowing juices- it’s tantalising, even worse when he takes both your hands in his as they try to find solace in his locks, pinning them to your sides onto the table instead. 

He rests his chin right below the apex of your mound, eyes wandering to your face as he sighs, the lazy but smug curve of his lips accentuating the scar you had grown to cherish as much as your own heartbeat.

Your chest is heaving, the sound of your heavy breathing hanging in the silence of the room as you look down at him. If this was to be his ruination- his fall from grace- Toji would die a happy man. The scent of you is lingering right below his nose, his mouth watering alone at the thought, but he cannot seem to pull away his eyes from your beguiling face, bathed in the moonlight. The words seem to escape him before he can think twice of them.

“Do you know how beautiful you are? It’s truly distracting.”

You’ve barely let his words settle in before he presses his thumb right against your wet heat, rubbing small circles onto your sensitive bud. You don’t have a chance to respond as he proceeds to dive into your drenched cunt- his tongue giving kitten-licks to your clit, lapping up any wetness that dares to drip down. You cry out loud as two of his fingers join his mouth’s onslaught, slapping a hand against your own mouth remembering where you were. 

The sounds filling the room as he suctions your clit in between his lips are filthy- arms wrapping around and under your thighs, pulling your arousal even closer to his starving mouth, the new angle of your leg being thrown over his shoulder letting his fingers rub against the spongy spot inside your walls that makes the coil in your stomach snap. You’re grinding against his face and he’s letting you, nose pressing onto your clit as he licks up the remnants of your juices, fingers continuing to fuck you through your climax as they quiver and shake around his head. 

You’re still coming down from your high, body hanging limp at an awkward angle against the hard wooden surface. His strong burly arms are easily lifting you up, carrying you towards the other side of the room- right towards the glass window. Your eyes widen as you realise the malicious idea that has popped up into your lover’s head, but you’re barely able to put in two words of protest before your feet are hitting the ground, the cold surface making you gasp as your tits are pushed against it. You’re crying out loud as he rubs his thick length against your soppy folds. 

“Toji- someone could see us- we shouldn’t- ah!”

You’re cut off as he lines himself up at your entrance, a pleasurable burn down in your core as his girth stretches your walls. It always hurts. No matter how many times he’s made you cum on his fingers and tongue or prepped you up with an ointment- his size is something no one would ever get accustomed to. He knows it too, but tonight he seems to care less about taking it slow and letting you adjust. You honestly cannot care less too, not when you're gushing around him as such when he’s barely even halfway inside. 

“Too big Toji- too much.” You’re mewling, hands trying to grip onto something.

“You can take it- fuck just let me-”

He’s hastily moving his fingers across your stomach to rub your pulsing bud, groaning lewdly at the way your cunt flutters around him, letting him move deeper inside of you.

The growl that leaves him as his tip hits your cervix is grossly animalistic, making you moan loudly. His other hand is coming up to grip your jaw, cheek pressed against the glass as he lifts up one of your legs, the angle letting him thrust in and out of your poor drenched hole even deeper. His thrusts turn sloppy, eyes clenched shut above you as the sounds of his balls slapping against your flesh with each thrust fill the room.

You’re both groaning in unison, his strokes getting faster as he feels your walls clamping down on him. You’re choking on a breath as his hand moves to wrap around your throat, the sensation making you moan even louder.

“Call me selfish-”  

A sharp smack is delivered against the flesh of your ass causing you to arch your back, the action making your tits press up against the window even more,

 “... but I don’t ever want anyone else to touch you.”

His lips have been suctioned to your neck, your delightful noises being muffled as he’s turning your head to the side till his tongue slips into your mouth. He tightens his grip around your neck and you’re seeing stars, along with the pace of his fingers on your clit and his rapid thrusts making the well in the bottom of your stomach come apart, tears of pleasure slipping your eyes, the feeling of his seed painting your walls making you clench against him amidst your own orgasm.

You barely feel the arms cradling your body, carrying you to set you down on the table. You furrow your brows as Toji strips himself of his shirt, and your eyes widen at the thought of him ravishing you once more so soon. Instead, you shudder as he swipes it against your sex, cleaning up his mess. 

The way you beam at him, even in your exhausted state, is honestly worth the ruined shirt- he finds himself thinking as he moves to pick up your dress from the ground. He clicks his tongue as he realises just how much of shreds he had ripped it into in his feral daze. He’s lifting his head to meet your eyes, wondering how he’ll tell you that you have to find a way to get back to your chambers in this state- 

“Oh-”

Your saccharine voice is pulling Toji out of his thoughts, surprise forming across his face as you burst into laughter at the sight of what he’s sure has cost twice as much as all the clothes he’d ever owned combined. 

“How well do you think I’d fare going out in one of the potato sacks?” 

How could he have not smiled right back at you. 

𝘿𝙤𝙡𝙤𝙨- 𝙩𝙧𝙞𝙘𝙠𝙚𝙧𝙮 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙜𝙪𝙞𝙡𝙚

Toji had never wanted to rip his own heart out so badly before, inject his blood with ambrosia so that he could be worthy enough for the goddess that was ready to abandon her sanctity- her piece of heaven- for him. He had always known how it would end- in an empty heath of a fire gone out long ago, the only thing keeping it burning now regret and sorrow.

 Love could not have sustained you when there was barely enough space to breathe, when there was barely enough food for your kids to live off of. Once the love faded, all that’d remain would be your wish to go back to the past, getting drunk on forgetfulness so that you can survive within the stone cold walls of a house- not a home.

Once again, Toji knew what he had to do- knew he willingly stepped into this hoping to ruin what was supposed to be the prize of his own blood- in order to humiliate them and fulfill his revenge.

He also knew he was the ruined one now as thoughts of you plagued his mind day and night- how his tactful game of cat and mouse had turned into sweet kisses and hushed giggles, and how all he wanted was to find a pit stop in time where his blood did not matter, where the sins of his past did not matter. But despite it all, he knew he couldn’t have dragged you into his own hell, even if you begged him to take you.

He sighs. 

You had recited the exact conversation you had with your mother- laid yourself bare before him as you poured out your heart- letting him know that it’d be worth tasting the 7 seeds of evil even if it meant living in hell for half your life. 

He had thrown his head back and laughed. 

“You really thought our little getaways meant anything more than a fling to me? More than just a decent fuck?”

You stood still, mouth agape at the words that had slipped past his lips, a hand fisting the fabric of his shirt right above his heart, desperately searching for the pulse of the man you’d grown to adore over the past few weeks. 

He had looked down at you, the scar you had so tenderly ran your fingers over twitching upwards- in amusement- in laughter, face contorting into one of resentment- of revulsion before he had suddenly stilled. 

“Did you forget your place princess? Pretty little head got too lost in a fool’s paradise- did you forget you are one of them- always have been one of them.”

He had spat the last words at you and you wanted to shake your head, wanted to tell him he was utterly wrong, but all you could do was clutch on even tighter to him.

He had put his hand over yours and you had almost begged for him to tell you that this was a sick joke- almost pleaded for him to intertwine his calloused warm hands with yours as he always did- as he had when he made you scream his name, instead you had found yourself gasping at the icy touch as he flicked away your wrist, brows furrowing in repulsion at the contact- at you.

The tears that had slipped through your eyes had only worked to make him throw his head back like a giddy child once more. He had looked up at the sky as if he was mocking the gods in Olympus - look at how I’ve so beautifully wrecked what you created,

while you had stood there looking up at him as if he was your religion, mouthing,

this is not a joke, love me, love me.

𝙊ï𝙯ú𝙨- 𝙢𝙞𝙨𝙚𝙧𝙮, 𝙖𝙣𝙭𝙞𝙚𝙩𝙮 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙜𝙧𝙞𝙚𝙛

You felt raw. But you did not fight the black hole opening up in your chest. You let it settle into your bones, nurtured the hollowness- ignited it until you felt it turn into flames instead.

You couldn’t have let the ice creep into your heart- it would mean giving up the tears, giving up the feeling of wanting to be swallowed whole by the ground beneath, and that would mean you no longer felt- no longer harboured the only thing that made you feel alive in the cage of bones and flesh your troubled mind resided in. 

There was a heavy pain in between the arch of your shoulder blades- like your wings had been clipped and your halo ripped away.

You ignored the scowl that rose to her face, the way she flinched as you leaned over to rest your head in her lap. You couldn’t tell if the wetness on your cheeks was yours or hers- mourning the daughter she was going to lose. You felt your mother’s burning gaze through the back of your head all throughout the journey back home- could already feel the wrath of your father and the nasty bruises that were to come as her hand came down to rest on your head. 

You instead found yourself being locked away immediately- not a single word from anyone. The only time your door opened was for a maid to serve you your half portioned meals. Not like you had an appetite or a will to do anything else. 

Days passed by, perhaps weeks or months, and you counted the scattered marks on the wall beside your bed like you had done once with the freckles across his back, and you waited-  for what? You weren’t quite sure yourself. You waited and waited until the day your door opened, but it wasn’t the regular pitter patter of steps of the maid who served the food.

Instead, your eyes met the raging ones of the head of your clan, and for the first time in days, an icy shiver creeped up your spine.

----

The torment you’re put through is much worse than expected. You were well aware you were to be disgraced, to be stripped of your title, but somehow the gaze of your own friends and family avoiding your beaten bloody form and ignoring your whimpers and cries of agony was what had stung the most. 

The world seemed to be upside down, fading in and out of hues of colour and greys and blinding lights. You could barely feel the blood dripping down the back of your head and into your shirt as your gaze managed to remain focused on the window outside of the rattling carriage you lay in, panic rising in your chest as you recognised the familiar scenery. 

You fought your hardest to stay awake, but you lost to the increasingly heavy pressure against your head, hoping your blood would run dry before you had to face the hell you were being thrown into. As your head lolled to the side, you wondered if satiating the hunger within you was worth the price you were paying- if this was what happened to every soul that had brought the god of the dead to his knees, wondered if you were the first to do so- wondered if you’d be the last. 

𝙃𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙨- 𝙠𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙤𝙛 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙪𝙣𝙙𝙚𝙧𝙬𝙤𝙧𝙡𝙙 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙙𝙚𝙖𝙙, 𝙜𝙤𝙙 𝙤𝙛 𝙧𝙚𝙜𝙧𝙚𝙩

Toji had left the clan- made a living of his own by doing what he did best, by doing what he was made to- destroying and causing wreckage till there was no piece of his soul left to be salvaged. 

He had avoided news about you like the plague, and had still ended up finding out that you were locked away back at your home from the gossiping servants. He had chuckled bitterly, what had he been expecting? He was right after all, you'd never have to face any consequences in life, and soon this whole scandal would be swept under the rug and you would be well on your way to marrying another wealthy brat, having filthy little kids with him who’d have the same luxuries in life and-

Toji found his heart dropping, the axe along with the freshly chopped wood he carried thumping down against the forest floor as he reached the entrance of the wooden cabin he had taken residence in. He saw the pool of blood first- the familiar mop of hair later.

No-

He must be hallucinating- 

But he still found himself moving out of his own accord, gathering the crumpled figure into his arms, feeling a thick fluid drip down his skin- stain through his shirt as he tried to pick you up. A chill ran down his spine as he realised what those savages had done for your body to resist even in an unconscious state- 

And that’s when his eyes slid to the nails in the ground, the sharp metal going right through the flesh of your fingertips, a note pinned to your abdomen in between your shredded dirtied clothes-

“We don’t want the gross wreckage of your perverse ruination. Keep the whore since you wanted her so much.” 

A sea of rage rose in the back of Toji’s mind but it stilled, the vicerating waves crashing against the shore that was the barely noticeable action of your chest heaving. He held back what was a choked sob, mind barely sane as he took out the nails as gently as possible- a man so familiar with death yet utterly horrified by it as he counted your laboured breaths, thanked every deity out in the universe for every huff of air that he could feel against his chest as he carried you inside. 

—

How do you kill a god? 

You had asked him once. He had raised his brow, ruffling your hair before pushing you down onto the bed once more, intent on at least letting you know how you got to heaven. 

How do you kill a god?

It now echoed in his mind as he watched your broken body lay on his bed, having done everything he could have to fix you up even though he feared there would be wounds more than just the physical ones when you gained consciousness- if you gained consciousness.

How do you kill a god? 

Pit him against another god. Let him stare at his own reflection and see all his glorious flaws until he’s falling to his knees, begging for the taste of ichor to be washed out from his mouth, begging to be stripped of his damned divinity- because the curse of immortality is a heavier burden to carry than the curse of mundane suffering- because it’s easier to drown in a sea full of blood than live with it staining your hands.

𝘼𝙥𝙝𝙧𝙤𝙙𝙞𝙩𝙚- 𝙡𝙤𝙫𝙚, 𝙥𝙡𝙚𝙖𝙨𝙪𝙧𝙚 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙥𝙖𝙨𝙨𝙞𝙤𝙣.

“How do you kill a god?” You had asked him once.

Afterwards, you had lain awake late into the night as he had given you a taste of his own holiness, bare in his arms as he had muttered the words into your hair, barely a whisper as they escaped past his bleeding lips, 

How do you become a god?

The burning light attacked your eyes and you flinched loud enough for your own ears to ring, and then flinched even harder as the hot searing pain spread through your body, especially across the tips of your bandage covered fingers. You tried to use your voice but your throat was like a desert and your own harsh whisper scraped against your sensitive ears.

All you could do was stare up at the unfamiliar ceiling, lying numb, waiting for your saviour- or perhaps your torturer to come.

All had gone still once the door opened, your gaze falling onto the familiar hands that carried a bowl of water and about a dozen different small bottles in a basket. You stared through him, through his wide blown eyes and through the sigh of relief that left his mouth as he rushed towards you. 

How do you become a god?

There was much more you had wanted to tell your mother. You had told her you were sick of pretending, sick of being the goddess of spring when everything you touched died in your hands- how every beam of light you emitted was a stolen one from another soul. Perhaps, you had always craved pomegranates and death - had always willingly walked into the darkness with a smile and open arms.

How do you become a god?

You let him plead and writhe to have a taste of your lips - make him believe it is his only salvation. And right when his lips meet yours, you dig your teeth in deep and not let go, even as his fingers grip the column of your throat and his growls rumble inside your mouth. You let the trail of crimson coat your tongue and feel his tears burn your flesh- you make him taste your blood and take his throne. 

—

He says your name like it’s a prayer and you want to rip out his heart.

Instead, you turn your head towards the wall opposite to where he stands, clenching your eyes shut, hoping the next time you wake up it won’t be here. 

Still, you can hear his voice. Every single day of every waking moment- even as you sleep- even as you wake up in cold sweat haunted by the bittersweet melody of his laughter the day he crushed your heart in two, or the time your own blood nailed you down into the earth. 

But most of all, you hate it when you can hear the gruffness of his voice, still heavy from sleep as you let him cradle your head, shushing you- letting you know it was just a nightmare- but it was a nightmare you had lived through- a nightmare he had put you through. 

Not that he didn’t acknowledge it equally as much. It was odd- almost laughable the way he was so desperate to bring even just a flicker of the light back inside your eyes, breaking free from his stoic and tight lipped demeanour to whisper grossly sweet nothings into your hair.

He had explained his regrets the first few days that you had refused to even look at him, simply staring at the wall as he stripped you of your clothes to redo your bandages, not even the barest of reaction visible across your face. He had caused this. 

The first words you had muttered to him weren’t of hatred or anger or sadness- they were said into the heavy air, late into the hours before dusk at a point in time where your bones still couldn't support the burden of your body, 

“I need to pee.” 

You had said it through gritted teeth, had scowled throughout the process of him picking you up and carrying you into the bathroom, giving you privacy to do your business. 

The second time you had spoken to him was right after and it had somehow dented itself much deeper than he had expected it to, even as it was all he had been preparing himself for in the past few days, 

“I hate you.”

You had said it with no anger, no poison in your words- had simply stated it like it was a mere fact. 

“I know.”

—

It was weeks later and you seemed to have fallen into a strange routine.

He’d go out to do his filthy work, come back bathed in blood and dirt, even as he washed himself off outside thinking he was sly with it. You’d pretend not to notice as you’d cook for yourself, sometimes leaving bits behind as leftovers even if you had purposely spilled the extra bit of rice- had regretted it as soon as you had realised you had done it because he hadn’t had dinner in three days.

Perhaps it was the irony of the situation, and maybe even the cold winter air creeping into your bones that let him move from simply holding you when you woke from your nightmares- to him warming your bed at night even when you dreamed of nothing but the scar beside his lip. 

Still, you let him know you despised him every night that he pulled your body against his chest and every morning that he rubbed his warm hands up and down your arms. Even as you felt yourself leaning into his touch, felt your heart softening at how he’d mutter apologies into your hair while he thought you were asleep, how he’d pay attention to the foods you took more of and made sure to get twice the amount next time, how he’d shred his own shirts to provide you with cloth for when you got your monthly cycles. Yet, you couldn’t find any other words to say to him. 

𝙋𝙚𝙧𝙨𝙚𝙥𝙝𝙤𝙣𝙚- 𝙌𝙪𝙚𝙚𝙣 𝙤𝙛 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙐𝙣𝙙𝙚𝙧𝙬𝙤𝙧𝙡𝙙 𝙂𝙤𝙙𝙙𝙚𝙨𝙨 𝙤𝙛 𝙨𝙥𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜, 𝙛𝙡𝙤𝙬𝙚𝙧𝙨, 𝙙𝙚𝙖𝙩𝙝, 𝙡𝙞𝙛𝙚, 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙙𝙚𝙨𝙩𝙧𝙪𝙘𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣

You had woken up alone as you did on most mornings, grateful that you wouldn’t have to face the shame that came with having your limbs tangled with him. The day was like any other yet different, perhaps it was the monotonous dread of living a life such as this- of having to live at all after being stripped of everything you had called yours.

You had somehow ended up taking steps outside of the wooden door, outside of the small garden the burly man used to grow his own vegetables, and even farther outside the vines and shrubs that kept the cabin hidden from any unwanted visitors.

You had walked and walked till your feet carried you to the edge of the world, a never ending fall down below from where you stared at, the sound of water flowing signalling the presence of a river running deep under the steep cliff.

You had stopped walking, the silence of the forest being the only noise to have outdone the heavy emptiness in your heart in months. And you simply continued to stand there, bare feet digging into the dirt and grass and stone, barely realising when the light faded away and darkness took over. Hadn’t it always been like this? 

It had taken no more than two rounds of the house and the trail of footsteps in the garden out back for Toji to realise you had left. His heart had dropped into his chest as he had followed the dents of your feet in the ground, careful not to step on them as his mind bitterly reminded him that it may be the last of what’s left of you by now.

He knew where the trail you had walked along led- had himself sat on the edge of it once, legs dangling off as he his mind had replayed the memory of your glossy eyes and crestfallen face when he had hit you with those fatal words months ago. Toji’s breath hitches in his throat, hands shaking as he pulls away the last branch blocking the view of the edge of the cliff. 

His feet are moving faster than his mind can think as he all but falls onto his knees, clutching your abdomen as if you’d disappear forever if he let you go now. You turn around in his arms, a look of confusion on your face, your eyes still as hollow as a void but all he cares about right now is the steady thumping he can feel with his chest pressed to yours. He’s clenching his eyes shut, taking a deep breath before he’s sliding his hand into yours. You don’t protest- letting him lead you back into the warm safety of his house and he’s too relieved to consider whether your lack of resistance is a good thing or not. 

You’re sitting on the edge of the bed and you can hear him ruffling through something in the bathroom, door ajar, eyes glancing towards you every two seconds as if he’s expecting you to bolt out the door any second now. For once, you don’t want to stare at the wall as he walks towards you, getting down on his knees- making a blow of nostalgia hit you right in the gut. But your eyes remain fixed at the top of his head, at the dark locks that had grown out much more since the last time you had let yourself gaze at him. 

You only realise what he’s been doing as you notice the bowl of water kept on the floor, hands gently lifting up your dirty feet, cleaning them of the mud and the blood from small scrapes. He’s lifting up your legs onto the bed once he’s done, adjusting your pillow as a gesture for you to lay down. He’s blowing out the lamps and soon enough you feel the mattress dip, his arms engulfing you tighter than ever before. You can feel the slight tremble in them and you feel guilty for the small pinch in your chest. You wait for his breathing to steady, head to fall limp into the crook of your neck before you roll over towards him in the dark, eyes set on the small crinkle between his forehead and brow. 

The warm hand that cups Toji’s cheek has him convinced that he may have lost his mind. Opening his eyes, he knows for sure that you have. Especially as you slide your other hand into his, pulling it till it’s placed onto the crest between your collarbone and chest, adjusting it a little more towards the left. Toji’s staring intently at you, wondering if this is your way of telling him that you’re still alive- that even though you’ve been cursed and damned to living in this hell, your heart still beats- it still fights. 

Toji bares his own emotions through a gesture- pulling the small hand that holds his to the apex between his upper ribs- pressing it till your fingers feel like they might just pass through his flesh. He hopes you know that if he could, he’d snap each one of his ribs open so that you can reach inside and press the palm of your hand against his beating heart, rip it right out of his body and spit inside the hollow space of his ribs with contempt- even then he’d survive on your hatred alone if it means surviving with you for the rest of his life. 

“I don’t hate you.”

The words are whispered in the dead of the night with no emotion, no trace of forgiveness or affection- simply stated as if they are common knowledge.

The soft lips coming down on his own have his mind spinning. He realises what it is you wish for- to be able to live once again as a human, to feel once again as a mortal- he can almost almost hear you saying the words into his mouth as your fist bunches up the fabric of his shirt. 

“I’m tired of being a god.” 

He can feel his own sentiment being passed right through as his hands slide under the cloth of his shirt that you wore, exploring the expanse of your reverenced skin, mouthing his response against your cupid’s bow.

“I’ll worship you even after you fall from grace.” 

And he does, pulling himself up on arms above you, dipping his fingers into your soaking sex, making quick work of ridding you and himself of your clothes. He’s tucking your legs against your chest, feet dangling over his broad shoulders as he comes forward to meet your lips. He’s pulling away and you’re mewling at the loss of contact- the loss of his taste. 

“Do you want this? Do you want-” He takes a deep breath, forehead coming forward to press against yours till your noses brush against each other, “...me?”

Your response comes in the form of sliding your hands to the back of his head, pulling him forward till his lips crash against yours once more- bucking your hips up till the tip of his massive girth is brushing against your heat. He doesn’t miss the moan that escapes you, eagerly kissing you back, moving to litter a plethora of kisses against your jaw- your neck- your collarbone. When he comes back up to your face, he’s well aware of the effect he’s had on you- the want in your eyes as you lift your hips against his once more, a small plea leaving your mouth. 

The need that comes over him is animalistic as he moves a hand down to position himself before sliding into your soppy hole, he swears he can see stars with how hungrily you swallow him in. You’re gripping his shoulders, nails digging into his skin as he strokes your insides so languidly. Your faces are close enough for you to feel his breath on your mouth, to feel the fall of the hot droplets on your cheeks, your own tears of grief- of freedom- of a love gone to waste so long ago combining as he continues to thrust in and out of you deeply. 

He’s dipping his head and the tears are being kissed away as his hand moves down to play with your over sensitive bud. You can't stop peppering kisses against his lips, moaning his name in his ear as he hits a particular spot inside you. He can feel you getting closer with how your breaths get deeper, fingers moving faster, strokes getting sloppier. 

You feel the tight coil in your stomach start to unravel, and all it takes is for him to lower his head and suction his lips around one of your nipples for you to come apart underneath him. He’s reaching his own arousal soon after, pulling out to spray his seed onto your stomach. He all but collapses on top of you, rolling over to his side once he catches his breath, another hitching in his throat as he finds you crawling onto his lap, legs straddling his waist as you bury your face into his naked chest. 

This is what being a god feels like. The taste of wine coating your tongue and the way his lips meld with yours- swallow you whole and then spit you out. You reach for him again in the dark, his chest panting against yours as the moonlight cascading from the window hits his face. You rest your chin against the centre of his chest, looking up at him with droopy eyes, his own stare right back at you- filled with tenderness and affection. 

“No one will ever hurt you again, I promise.” 

His voice is gruff and heavy, but carries a sincerity warm enough to send tingles down your back. You can’t quite place the look on his face, it's determined- pointed. You can feel the unravelling of the violence beneath his skin as his hand comes to cradle your jaw, and you wonder just what kind of monsters the god of the underworld plans to unleash.

His hand moves to caress the back of your head, adoration-filled eyes raking over your still panting figure. He presses his lips to your temple and says your name like a prayer. It all floods in- the pain- the love- the sorrow- the joy- you’re sobbing and he’s holding you like he has time and again. Only this time, he finds himself awestruck by the spark of ember that comes alive in your eyes, even if just for a second, he knows you’re going to be fine. 

-

The god of the dead had bowed before you, offered you his crown, his throne- would have ripped off the flesh from his own back and handed it to you without any hesitation if only you asked. 

You were the goddess of spring and everyone had loved your life and light, but who except him had acknowledged the death and destruction that came along- had reached out their hands into the rotten parts of your flesh and kissed every bruise and scar?

This was Toji Fushiguro’s life now, coming back home to his precious darling each day- the only burst of spring in his everlasting winter, the only ray of light in his world swallowed by darkness.

Tonight, as you lay on him bare-bodied and covered in sweat from your previous feat, he finds you asking him about the season, about how far the harvest festival was. He’s confused at your sudden curiosity but answers you nonetheless, telling you it’s in a fortnight. He finds himself asking why. 

“Every single member of our blood attends the festival- they had waited for it while they kept me away.” 

It’s the first time you’re talking about the incident and he can feel you quiver in his arms. It makes his blood boil, and he finds himself protectively pulling you even closer into him. 

“...they had wanted each and every single one of them to get a chance to cut through my skin.” 

That’s all you say before falling asleep, the tears on Toji’s chest making a storm of anger rage inside his mind. 

--

It’s a fortnight later and Toji watches the red and orange hues of the flames making your face glow brighter than the sun. 

You’re standing there hand-in-hand with him, looking over the half wrecked ruins of the village, the screams of the people you had grown up with- who had taken no less than a second to turn their backs on you- who had left you to die- now echoing in your ears. Right on the edge of the hilltop you stand on, you see a small figure running towards the slope, clothes burnt, high pitched sobs filling the air as it succumbs to the heat that had spread through it’s bones.  

She must’ve been eight or nine years old judging from her size and half burnt frills of the frock she wore. You know she’s at peace, much like the many others who would’ve faced nothing but agonising hardships being raised in the hands of your cruel persecutors- all of whom lay as nothing but bones and ash and dust now. 

Toji’s worried that he’ll find the same emptiness he’s spent months breaking through as he glances over at your face. Instead, there’s a fire being reflected in your eyes, a sadistically deliciously smile stretched across your supple cheeks. He finds his own lips curving as he grips your jaw to turn your head and press his lips to yours, the screams and shouts of your monsters merely anything but white noise as your fingers come to tangle in his hair. 

After all, Hades may have been the god of the dead, but it was Persephone’s wrath which brought upon the destruction.

© suna-reversed — all rights reserved. please refrain from modifying, translating, reposting of any kind. plagiarism will NOT be tolerated.

credit- prompt list

taglist-@captainmads2092 @mahitochan @nakachuchu @bakugohoex @jotazinha @osmosly @avasparks @p-each-y-day @lilshortcakess @saturnmoon @deary-darling @menaintshit23 @tobidabio @sukuna5slut @instantnuma @kuroshitsujjiii @half-baked-biscuit @duskamethyst @sukumen @radishfern

[dontcare77ghj]

Don’t Touch That Dial

Wanda x reader x Vision

Non-reader POV

It was the middle of the night. Vision, Y/N, and Wanda were all sound asleep in their single beds when Wanda bolted upright at a loud thudding sound.

"What was that?" Wanda wondered aloud. She looked to her right to see Y/N and Vision sleeping. For a second, she questioned if she should chance to wake them up, but when the thuds continued, she turned the light on with her magic.

Stop being silly, Wanda chided herself, turning the light off. But what if it is something? Wanda wondered, snapping the light back on. It's probably nothing, Wanda. She decided turning the light off again, this time for good.

While Wanda was debating waking her loves, she hadn't noticed they had already woken.

"Wanda?" Vision asked, pulling his eye mask off.

"Yes, dear?" 

"Are you using your powers to turn on the light?" Vision questioned, staring at the window.

"Yes, dear," Wanda admitted, feeling guilty.

"Allow me, dear." Vision said, getting out of bed as Y/N sat up.

"What even woke you up?" Y/N asked before there was another loud thud. "Never mind."

"What do you see?" Wanda questioned Vision, who was now standing at the window.

"Only your lovely rosebushes and carnations," Vision told her.

"That's all?" Y/N wondered.

"Are you using your night vision, Vision?" Wanda quizzed the man.

"I assure you, my love, I see nothing amiss." Vision promised, turning to face both women. "You have absolutely no reason to be frightened." The android said before there was another loud bang. Vision let out a loud yelp and jumped back into bed quickly.

"You were saying?" Y/N asked, raising a brow while Wanda shook her head. 

"Actually, I did overhear a couple of lads at work remarking on a few unsavory characters settling in the neighborhood. Now, who knows what those ne'er-do-wells might be up to? Robbing houses, vandalizing property." Vision suggested.

"Walking through walls. Moving objects without touching them. Causing lightning of sunny days." Wanda teased.

"I did that once, and it was because you scared me," Y/N grumbled. 

"Wanda, sweetheart, you can't possibly be suggesting my colleagues were referring to us," Vision asked before there was another bang.

The three jumped, and Wanda caused all three beds to join.

"One of us should really determine the source of that sound." Vision commented.

"That's something we could do," Y/N said, clutching her blankets.

"One of us should." Wanda agreed.

It was more a bang this time that caused them all to jump.

"Oh, this getting ridiculous." Y/N snapped, pushing her blankets down. "I am going to take a look." 

"Be careful, Y/N."

"Oh, God." 

Without moving from her spot, Y/N blew the curtains open to reveal the tree. Its branches, crashing against the window.

"Well, I think we handled that well," Wanda said, sinking down into the bed.

"Yes, I must say I'm rather proud of myself. And look how you seized the opportunity to redecorate." Vision said, noting that all their beds were pressed together.

"This is better, isn't it?" Wanda asked.

"Mmm." Vision nodded before Wanda pointed her finger, and instead of three separate beds, the three of you were now on one large joint bed.

"Why did it take us this long?" Y/N asked, smiling at how close she was to her husband and wife.

"Wanda, darling?"

"Yes, dear?"

"Hit the lights." 

The three pulled the blankets over their heads, and Wanda snapped the lights off.

"Ladies and gentlemen, for my final trick, I bring you The Cabinet of Mysteries." Vision practiced in front of an invisible audience. "Wanda, that's your cue." 

"You said "The Cabinet of Mysteries?" Wanda called from behind him. 

"I said "The Cabinet of Mysteries."

"Then that's my cue." Wanda agreed and began to wheel a large cabinet into their living room.

"Holy Toledo!" Vision exclaimed, rushing to help Wanda. "Darling, do all the other acts in the talent show have such elaborate props?"

"Are you kidding? Fred and Linda are building a moat and a fully functioning portcullis, and no-one knows why." Wanda shook her head. 

"I heard Fred was going to throw Linda into the moat," Y/N said from inside the cabinet. "Can we hurry this along? I'm getting claustrophobic." She added.

"Let's keep going." Wanda nodded, taking her place.

"Yes. Yes. Where was I? Ah, yes, watch closely as I, Illusion, Master of Enigma, make my captivating assistant, Glamour, disappear." Vision rehearsed as Wanda held her hand up and gasped. The two opened the doors, and Vision helped Wanda into the cabinet.

"You really are very dashing." Wanda complimented, breaking character.

"Thank you, darling." Vision smiled. "Fear not, Glamour, for I, Illusion vow, to bring you back." The android said, shutting the doors on Wanda. "Abracadabra." He announced, opening the doors to reveal Y/N standing in Wanda's place. "What's this? I seem to have changed my lovely assistant into another lovely being." 

"I saw your assistant in the dimension of the cabinet," Y/N said as Vision helped her out. "To bring her back, I think you'll have to try the spell again."

"So we shall." Vision nodded. He and Y/N closed the doors once more, and Vision held his wand at the ready. "Abracadabra." He said, tapping the cabinet twice, and when the doors opened, this time, there stood Wanda, who was clapping her hands and grinning widely.

"Darlings, you're not at all worried that the audience might just see through this little charade?"

"That's the whole point, sweetheart," Y/N assured her husband. "In a real magic act, everything is fake. Not everyone can do what Wanda does."

"The talent show fundraiser is the most important event of the season, and it's our neighborly duty to participate." Wanda fretted. "Plus, it's our chance to appear as normal as possible while doing so."

"Well, I don't think that should be a problem." Vision joked, gesturing to his undisguised face.

Y/N and Vision chuckled at Vision's joke, but Wanda just stared between the two.

"This is our home now. I just want us to fit in." Wanda admitted.

"Oh, Wand, of course, we fit in," Y/N promised, resting her hand on the woman's waist.

"And if not, then we shall. And we're going to knock the neighborhood's socks off. Especially if the two of you are dressed like this." Vision commented, picking up one of his wife's costumes.

"Oh, that's actually the rest of your costume." Wanda joked, cracking a smile. "Oh, Y/N, we better get going if we want to make the planning committee meeting." Wanda gasped, noting the time on her wristwatch.

"That's me off too, actually." Vision said, pulling on his sweater. "There's a gathering of the neighborhood watch at the public library. After last night's excitement, I want to make sure this town's security is up to snuff." He admitted.

"That's an outta sight idea, Vis." Y/N complimented.

"Real swell, sweetheart. You tell those tree branches whose boss." Wanda teased, leaning up to kiss the man.

"Would you look at us? Wanda, Y/N, and Vision, Westview fitter-inners." Vision smiled before kissing Y/N. "I'll see you both at curtain call." He said, moving to leave.

"Do you have your keys, Vis?" Y/N aked before he left the house. 

"Of course." Vision said, pulling on a hat and his glasses. "When have I ever forgot them?" He wondered, causing Y/N and Wanda to share a look.

"Just now, to name one time," Wanda said, floating Vision his set of keys.

"Oh. Perhaps my processors need a cleaning." Vision mused, changing his appearance and taking the floating keys. "Until curtain call!" He exclaimed.

"Until curtain call!" Both women called back.

Y/N and Wanda still had several minutes before they had to leave for the committee meeting. The two moved around the house, putting dishes away, straightening trinkets, and fluffing pillows when there was a loud noise outside.

"Do you think it's the tree?" Y/N wondered as Wanda began to move out the front door. 

But Wanda didn't respond as she continued to walk in a trance-like state.

"Sweetheart?" Y/N asked, following after her wife. Wanda moved outside and towards the rosebushes where a toy helicopter sat. "Do any of our neighbors have children?" Y/N asked, receiving no response once again.

Wanda pulled the toy out of the bush and stared at it in confusion. 

"Wanda? Sweetheart?" Y/N asked, resting a hand on her shoulder.

"Howdie stars!" Agnes exclaimed, suddenly appearing at the gate. 

Both Y/N and Wanda jumped as Agnes chuckled.

"Agnes! Y/N!" Wanda chuckled, holding one hand to her chest. "I'm sorry, what did you say, Agnes?" Wanda asked, taking Y/N's hand and clutching it tightly.

"I brought my pet rabbit," Agnes said, holding up a cage with a large rabbit. "For your magic act." She explained.

"Yes, of course! Thank you, Agnes." Wanda nodded. 

"We promise we will take good care of him," Y/N added, taking the cage into her arms. "I'll take him inside." She told Wanda.

"I'll come with. I'll lock the back door." Wanda said, following her wife.

"Senor Scratchy just loves the stage. He played baby Jesus in last year's Christmas pageant." Agnes bragged loudly as the two Vision women took her rabbit into their home. "Good morning, Dennis." That was the last thing Y/N and Wanda heard from Agnes as they disappeared into their home.

"You gonna tell me what all that was about?" Y/N asked, putting Senor Scratchy's cage beside the couch.

"What what was all about?" Wanda asked, locking the back door.

"The helicopter." Y/N reminded. "You blanked out on me." She said as they moved back towards the front door.

"I'm having a spacey day, sweetheart. That's all." Wanda assured, closing the front door and stopping Y/N on the porch. "I promise." She said, pressing a kiss to Y/N's lips, taking her hand, and walking back down to Agnes. "Shall we?"

"We shall." Agnes smiled, hooking her arm around Wanda's free one. "So, are you ready to meet Queen Cul de Sac and her merry homemakers?" Agnes questioned the two.

"Dottie, can't be as bad as you say, Agnes." Wanda laughed.

"Wanda, have you met most women? Not everyone's like Agnes or us." Y/N asked, causing Agnes to laugh.

"She's right, you know? You'll notice Dottie's roses bloom under the penalty of death." Agnes told the two, though Wanda scoffed a little. "Can I give you girls a bit of friendly advice?" Agnes asked, stopping in her tracks.

"Is it about how we're dressed?"

"Yes, but it's too late for that now," Agnes said, looking the two over. 

Wanda looked concerned, but Y/N couldn't bring herself to care.

Pants were slowly becoming more incorporated in women's daily wardrobe, and Y/N wouldn't be giving them up for anyone.

"Dottie is the key to everything in this town." Agnes continued. "Country club memberships, parties, school admissions." She teased the two. 

"Let's not get ahead of ourselves." Wanda shook her head, though there was a smile on her face.

"You get in with Dotties, and it'll be smooth sailing from here on out," Agnes told them. "Just mind your P's and Q's, and you're gonna do just fine." She said assuringly.

"Why can't we just be ourselves?" Y/N asked.

"More or less so," Wanda added.

Agnes stared at the two in confusion before letting out a laugh.

"That's good, girls. Very good." She said.

"Everyone, hurry up, please." A new voice called. 

The three women turned to the left and noticed a fair-haired woman leaving a house with a procession of women behind her.

"Hiya, Dottie!" Agnes called. "Your roses are divine!" She complimented, waving a hand.

Y/N and Wanda both followed suit and waved as well. Wanda little more enthusiastically than Y/N's awkward one.

"Well, thank you." Dottie smiled politely and waved daintily. 

Neither Y/N nor Wanda knew just what they were getting themselves into.

Y/N, Wanda, and Agnes all followed Dottie and her group to the country club. The three had sat to the side as Dottie's followers meticulously set everything up.

As one woman spoke about the fundraiser's progress, Wanda watched Dottie intently as the woman made her ice tea to her liking.

"The rotary club is finishing the stage set-up as we speak. They've given the gazebo a fresh coat of paint, and they'll be installing the final decorations all throughout the town square. And if you recognize the antique footlights, it's because they're from my store." The lady standing finished explaining with a fake smile.

"And the chairs?" Dottie asked, tilting her head to the side.

The woman seemingly froze at Dottie's question before she forced a smile back onto her face.

"I'm sorry, Dottie. I didn't ask about the chairs." She admitted.

"So you better not ask me if you can chair any committees in the future," Dottie said, grinning at the other women who laughed at her words. "The devil's in the details, Bev," Dottie said, standing as Bev rushed back to her seat in shame.

"That's not the only place he is," Agnes said to Wanda.

"As you all know, the talent show is the sole fundraiser for Westview Elementary," Dottie explained.

"This might help," Agnes said, raising a small flask.

"Do you have any spare?" Y/N asked, leaning over Wanda, but Agnes shook her head.

"In the eight years since I founded our little club, this event has gotten bigger and better every season." Dottie bragged as a woman passed around a tray of biscuits to Y/N, who handed them onto Wanda.

"Say, those pants are peachy keen. Both sets." The mystery woman complimented.

"Do you really think so?" Wanda asked with wide eyes. "The other ladies are in skirts. I was worried."

"Not me," Y/N mumbled, sipping her drink.

"We only have a few hours until showtime. So, a little less cross chatter and a little more focus would be greatly appreciated," Dottie interrupted, causing the three to freeze.

"Okay." Wanda nodded, passing along the tray. 

"Those little boys and girls are counting on us. All of this is for the children." Dottie said.

The other women, bar Y/N and Wanda, parroted back the phrase, 

"For the children."

Y/N looked very uncomfortable at the chanting women and muttered,

"This is a cult."

But Wanda had been eating her biscuit and parroted the phrase back after everyone else had finished. 

Everyone turned to stare at the Vision women, and Dottie looked more than displeased at the two.

"So I want you all to give yourselves a big hand," Dottie started but was interrupted by Wanda clapping loudly. "At the appropriate time, of course." Dottie scolded as you grabbed Wanda's hands and pulled them down. "But first, let's review event etiquette. The dress code is, of course, upscale garden party,"

"The only reason I didn't clap is that I'm afraid to move." The woman beside Y/N leaned over to whisper.

"I don't think I was paying enough attention to clap," Y/N told her. The woman smiled while Wanda lightly hit her wife's leg.

"I actually don't know what I'm doing here." The mystery woman admitted. 

"I'm starting to feel that way myself," Wanda admitted. "I'm Wanda." She said, holding her hand out.

"I'm, uh, Geraldine." The woman introduced herself after taking Wanda's hand.

"And I'm Y/N."

"And I'm irritated." Dottie interrupted, staring at the three of you, her features pinched together in anger. "Tickets for tonight are completely sold out. Now you can clap." Dottie commanded. The woman allowed everyone to clap for five seconds before she raised her hand. "And stop."

"How is anyone doing this sober?" Agnes muttered, shaking her head.

Across town, Vision had finally made his way to the library and was rushing inside. Afraid to have missed his chance at joining the committee.

Vision quickly found the group he was looking for, surrounding a table, speaking quietly amongst themselves.

"Pardon me, is this the neighborhood watch meeting?" Vision asked, standing to the left of the group, his hat in his hands.

Everyone turned to stare at the man, all clearly unsure what he was doing there.

"Oh, hiya Vision. Didn't expect to see you here." Norm said. "This is sort of a 'members only' type of deal." He informed his coworker.

"Oh certainly! Right, well." Vision stuttered, rocking back on his heels. "I'll just stay here and be quiet as a church mouse until you open up the floor for new business." Vision assured the assembled group.

"Well, in truth, we were just getting to new business." Herb, his next-door neighbor, admitted.

"Oh, splendid! Could you tell me how often you rotate security patrols?" Vision inquired, pulling up a chair between Herb and Norm. "Do you interface directly with local law enforcement? And what are your protocols for threats such as burglary, graffiti, and reckless driving?" He pushed.

"No Vision," Norm started, but Vision interrupted him.

"I know these are indeed grave matters." Vision nodded.

"New business actually means another round of Danish," Norm admitted.

"Raspberry or cheese-filled?" Jones asked, pulling a box onto the table and sitting it before Vision.

"Oh, neither for me, thank you. I don't eat food." Vision said without thinking. 

Vision didn't even register what he had said until he noticed the rest of the table staring at him in confusion.

"What I mean to say is that I don't eat food in between meals but at mealtimes. I'm a regular eating machine." Vision rambled.

There were a couple nods at Vision's reasoning, and Herb even huffed out a short laugh before he leaned in close to the table.

"Hey fellas. Vision here does have a point. Now listen up because I got some top-secret intelligence for you." Herb told everyone who leaned in closer to hear.

"Oh, excellent!"

"You know how Johnson's been braggin' about that treehouse he built for his kids?"

"Yeah?"

"It's a prefab job," Herb informed everyone. The table immediately scoffed at his words and nodded along.

"That blockhead can't even hold a hammer." One mocked.

"I can do you one better." Norm bragged. "You know those bowling trophies Arthur's always polishing? He bought 'em all at a yard sale in Hackensack."

"I knew it! I've never once seen him down at the lanes." Herb shook his head.

Is this how I'm to fit in? Vision pondered. By peddling gossip and stories? Well, if it is to fit in. He decided, nodding to himself.

"I, too have, some top-secret gossip to share." Vision announced. "Norm here's a communist." He declared.

Norm froze for a second as the rest of the table turned to face him. But he didn't have to worry as everyone burst out into boisterous laughter, Norm included.

"Vision, you're a real cut up." Jones complimented.

"You know, I always thought you were kinda square," Norm told him.

"Me? No! I'm as round as they come." Vision said, causing the rest of the men to laugh once more.

"Hey, Vis, card for a stick big Red?" Herb asked, offering a stick of gum to the android.

"Well, hold on a second. Didn't you hear the man? He doesn't eat food." Norm teased as Vision held the gum between two fingers.

"Is gum food?"

"Well, my understanding is that it's purely for mastication." Vision shrugged, turning his head to Herb for began to stutter.

"Oh no, I don't do that!" Herb denied, shaking his head firmly.

"Well, when in Westview." Vision shrugged, unwrapping the gum. "Cheers." He said, raising the stick before putting it in his mouth.

"Who knew you were such a funny guy?" Norm asked.

"And to think you came here all hot and bothered about protocols and nonsense." Herb chuckled. "We actually thought you were serious," Herb said, slapping Vision on the back.

At the rough and sudden movement, Vision accidentally swallowed the gum in his mouth.

Vision could feel the wad of gum sliding down his throat and getting stuck in his internal processors.

"He's funny. All right, so, back to the barbeque." Herb directed the meeting back on topic. 

But what none of the other men noticed was Vision's growing panic at the foreign object now stuck in his internal processors.

Back at the country club, it was now only Y/N, Wanda, and Dottie. 

Wanda and Y/N had been tasked with cleaning up after the meeting while Dottie sat prissily behind them.

"And this is why you never do a seating chart on an empty stomach," Dottie commented as Wanda heaved a heavy tray of plates onto the table.

"Golly, you're a whiz at all the committee stuff, Dottie." Wanda complimented as Y/N picked up two stacks of teacups. "Thank you for choosing us to help you clean up. I feel so lucky." Wanda commented, taking one stack off Y/N's hands.

"You are." Dottie shrugged as they lugged the china onto the cart.

"I don't like her," Y/N whispered into her wife's ear once their backs were to their host. "Let's just split now."

"Not yet." Wanda denied before turning back to Dottie. "I can't help but wonder if the three of us haven't gotten off on the wrong foot, Dottie. And I'd like to, we'd like to, correct that if we can."

"And how would you do that?" Dottie asked, her face void of emotion.

Wanda didn't have an answer for Dottie as she chuckled awkwardly and glanced at her wife for an answer. But Y/N didn't have one either.

"I've heard things about you," Dottie revealed, rising to a stand. "About you, about your husband, and about your wife," Dottie said, pointing at both women.

"Well, I don't know what you've been told, but I assure you we don't mean anyone any harm," Wanda said as Y/N moved to stand beside her.

"I don't believe you," Dottie said, staring the two women down with a mean glare.

For a minute, the three women merely stared at one another. Dottie glared in distrust, Wanda looked almost scared, and Y/N was glaring at Dottie for threatening her wife, husband, and their life here.

The staring contest was interrupted by the radio crackling loudly before a man's voice came through it.

"Wanda. Wanda, can you hear? Agent Barton, do you read me?"

"Who is that?" Dottie asked, looking at the radio in fear.

"Wanda? Y/N?"

"Who are you?" Dottie gasped, now turning her fearful gaze to Wanda and Y/N.

The voice continued to call for both Wanda and Y/N. It kept repeating their names until a glass shattered.

The glass in Dottie's hand shattered, and the radio silenced.

"Dottie!" Wanda gasped, gazing at Dottie's bleeding hand in shock.

Wanda quickly took the woman's hand into her own as Y/N pulled a handkerchief out of her pocket.

"Pop quiz, Wanda," Dottie said as Y/N wrapped her hand. "How does a housewife get a bloodstain out white linen?" She asked. When neither woman gave her an answer, she answered her own question. "By doing it herself."

And with that, Dottie walked away.

"Wanda, what is going on?" Y/N demanded as Wanda glanced down at the radio. "What was that? Was that you? That couldn't have been you. Why was it calling me Agent Barton?" Y/N questioned her.

Wanda had never seen her wife really lose her cool in all their time together.

Y/N was always the level-headed one of the trio.

"Sweetheart," Wanda said, taking Y/N's face in her hands. At Wanda's touch, Y/N physically slacked in her grip. "You're exhausted," Wanda explained, running her thumb under Y/N's eye. "It's been a long day, and we didn't sleep last night. You need rest." 

"I need rest." Y/N agreed, nodding her head gently.

"We have time before the show to go home and take a nap." Wanda determined. "Maybe we can find something for your head at home or some tea? Does that sound okay?" 

"That sounds okay." Y/N nodded, smiling at her wife. "You know it's really your fault we didn't get any sleep last night." Y/N teased as she stood upright.

"Of course it was." Wanda smiled, wrapping her arm around Y/N's waist. "Let's get you home."

As the two began to walk away, Wanda couldn't stop herself from looking back and at the radio.

Just what was that?

Wanda and Y/N had gone home and taken an hour for themselves before they had to get ready for the show and bring their props down to the town square.

All of their neighbors had prepared an act. Everyone was performing.

Wanda, Y/N, and Vision were the last act on the agenda. The only problem with their performance was that they were missing a key component.

They were missing Vision.

"I'd hate to go after this guy." Geraldine giggled, staring at what was happening through the curtains while Wanda paced.

"What?" Wanda panicked. 

"Oh no, not like that. You guys are gonna be great." Geraldine assured. 

"Oh, what time is it now?" Wanda asked, beginning to pace again.

"Wanda, it's been two minutes," Y/N told the woman.

"I just don't know where he could be."

"Wanda, Vision will be here," Y/N promised, stopping her wife in her pacing by taking her hands. "He promised, and he'd never break a promise to us."

"Is that him?" Geraldine interrupted, pointing to a man stumbling up the stairs. 

Y/N and Wanda both turned to see their husband stumbling up the steps of the gazebo.

"It looks like he's got a little hitch in his giddyup," Geraldine commented, shaking her head.

"Vis?" Wanda asked, moving towards the man.

"Wanda! Wanda, my little cabbage, you look smashing!" Vision complimented before letting out a groan.

"What have you been doing?" Y/N asked, stepping next to Wanda.

"Not to worry, my little squash, me and the boys were just playing a rather thrilling game of horses with shoes." Vision said before shaking his head. "No, that's not right. Shoe horses. Horse's shoes!"

"Listen, something strange happened with Dottie," Y/N said, grabbing Vision's arms. "And before that. Something strange has been going on all day. It's hard to explain." Y/N told him.

"I was just playing with his shoes!" Vision yelled, pointing his finger at a man walking by in a horse costume.

Both Y/N and Wanda stared at their husband in confusion. He'd never acted like this before.

"What is going on?" Wanda asked a tad hysterically.

"You are!" Geraldine interrupted.

Wanda rushed to the curtains where Geraldine was peeking her head out to see Dottie giving a speech.

"I want to thank you all for coming out to support Westview Elementary, "For the Children." Dottie gushed.

"For the children." The crowd parroted back.

"The whole town's in this cult." Y/N shook her head.

"And for our final act, I give you Wanda, Y/N, and Vision," Dottie announced, politely clapping as she left the stage to sit with her husbands.

Wanda grabbed Y/N's hand and pulled the woman through the curtains.

The two smiled at the audience as they moved to their spot and, at the same time, gestured for Vision to exit.

Except Vision didn't exit. He completely missed his cue. 

"Hey! Hey you! You're up, Cowboy!" Geraldine snapped backstage at Vision.

"What?" Vision asked, struggling with a deck of cards. "Oh, shoot! I've got to go!"

Vision rushed towards the stage, and instead of exiting calmly, as they had planned, Vision burst through the curtains.

"Hello, Westview!" Vision exclaimed as Y/N and Wanda exchanged looks. "It's so lovely to be. I'm so sorry!" Vision apologized to a handrail he had bumped into. "Excuse me. I am Allure, and these are my delightful assistant's Illusion and Glamour."

"I am Glamour," Wanda interjected, raising a hand in a flourish.

"And I am Allure," Y/N added, copying Wanda's movements. "And this is the incredible,

"Illusion." The two introduced.

"Whatever they said." Vision nodded along. "Today, we will lie to you, and yet you will believe our little deceptions because human beings are easily fooled. But that's not your fault!" Vision told the audience. "It's because of human's limited understanding of the inner workings of the universe." He shrugged while his wife's once again stared at him questioningly. "Flourish!"

"You don't have to say it out loud, honey," Wanda muttered.

"You just do it. Like we practiced." Y/N added.

"Bah!" Vision waved off the advice. "And now, my wive's and I will delight in your dumbstruck little faces. Flourish!" He called before he was suddenly floating above the stage.

Wanda and Y/N froze at their husband's actions. And they weren't the only ones. 

Everyone in the audience saw what Vision was doing, and they all gasped at the sight of him floating.

What was he thinking?

Wanda's head snapped to the audience, and she noticed Dottie watching intently. 

Thinking quickly, Wanda pointed at Vision and conjured a wire for him to float from.

Y/N, noticing Wanda's actions, rushed across the stage and moved a poster board revealing the lever connected to the rope and pully.

"Ha! Do you see? He's using a rope!" Norm called from the audience.

"Wanda, what's, oh God! No! Y/N, stop her!" Vision yelled as Wanda began to pull Vision higher, to the audience's delight. "Darlings, let me down! I'm feeling pukey!"

After that line, Wanda finally lowered Vision to the ground as the audience clapped loudly.

"Thank you!" Vision smiled. "What's next? Oh, yeah, this is, this is gonna be great!" He said, moving over to the piano. "A staggering feat of strength!" He bragged, raising the piano with one hand.

The audience gasped and stared at the man in confusion.

"What do you think of that?" Vision asked the crowd.

"Illusion." Wanda gasped, struggling to think of how to fix this. "Illusion, Master of Engima, allow me." She said, wiggling her fingers subtly before rushing across the stage.

Wanda grabbed the piano out of Vision's hand, and it was replaced by a cardboard replica.

"Whoops!" Wanda gasped as she showed the audience the fake back. "You weren't supposed to see how we did that trick!" She teased, causing the audience to clap and giggle.

"That was my grandmother's piano," Jones said in the audience, watching as Wanda threw the piano to Y/N.

As the piano was removed from the stage, Vision turned his sights to the audience before excitedly exclaiming,

"Sherbert! This is my old mate Sherbert!" Vision yelled, moving towards the crowd. "Stand up, Sherbert! Say hello to the crowd!" He demanded, rushing beside the other man.

"It's Herbert. Herb." Herb clarified.

"Pipe down, Sherbie, and pick a card." Vision said, pushing the deck in Herb's direction. "Any card, now put it back in the deck." He ordered, turning his back to his neighbor. "I'm not looking. All right, watch this."

Vision halved the deck and pulled out the King of Diamonds, holding it smugly in front of Herb.

"Is this your card?"

"No." Herb shook his head.

"I beg to differ." Vision scoffed, thrusting the card towards Herb.

"It's not."

"Really?" Vision asked, cocking his head to the side. "Is this your card?" He questioned, pulling out another card.

"Vision," Y/N said from the stage, a fake smile on her face.

But Vision ignored her as he continued to pull cards from the deck.

"Is this your card? Is this your card? Is your card?" Vision kept repeating, showing cards and then throwing them to the side as Herb denied him.

"Sweetheart?" Wanda asked as cards flew everywhere.

"Is this your card?" Vision demanded, pulling out the King of Spades.

"Oh, it is," Herb said, surprised at it finally being pulled out.

"It is what?" Vision asked, staring at him in confusion. 

"It's my card." Herb smiled.

"Well, pardon me, Herb. Have it back." Vision scoffed, thrusting the card into the man's hands.

"No, that's not what I meant. You did the trick right." Herb told him as Vision stormed away.

"Well, of course, I did the trick right. I'm Illusion!" Vision exclaimed, rolling his eyes. "Flourish!" He emitted, bowing deeply.

Wanda and Y/N quickly began to clap at Vision's trick', causing the audience to join.

"And now, for my next trick," Vision began to announce.

"He's still going?" Y/N whispered to her wife, who sighed.

"Where's my hat? Who stole my hat?" Vision asked, turning to see his hat on the stage floor, Senor Scratchy hopping out of it. "Oh! Stop that rabbit!" He called as Y/N, and Wanda chased after the rabbit. "I've got to pull a hat out of you!"

"Senor Scratchy's got real star quality, don't you think?" Agnes asked anyone who would listen as Wanda caught him.

"Maybe we leave the poor bunny out of this one, shall we?" Wanda questioned, stroking the rabbit's fur gently.

"That sounds swell," Y/N said, approaching Wanda with the cage.

"Well then, I will just have to pull this hat out of myself!" Vision determined, facing the audience with a grin.

"Vision no." Wanda gasped, staring at him pleadingly.

"I'm doing it."

"Don't you dare," Y/N said, putting her hands on her hips.

"Ah-ha!" Vision cheered. Having ignored his wives pleading, Vision had gone ahead and pushed his hat through his torso.

The crowd didn't clap, and they didn't gasp. Everyone merely stared in confusion, not understanding what they just saw.

"If only we could tell you our secret." Y/N awkwardly smiled as Wanda wiggled her fingers.

The curtains opened behind the three, revealing a set of mirrors to the audience.

The assembled crowd let out sounds of recognition and began to clap, now understanding the trick.

"Is that how mirrors work?" Bev wondered a costume horse head on her lap.

"Shut up, Bev." Dottie scolded the other woman without even turning to look at her.

"And now, ladies and gentlemen, for our grand finale." Vision announced as Wanda moved to get the cabinet while Y/N closed the curtains. "I bring you the Magnet of Crysteries!"

"The Cabinet of Mysteries," Wanda told the crowd, a slight snap in her tone.

Wanda was so fed up with how the day had gone that all she wanted was to get the show over with.

But she was so focused on her frustration that she never noticed, Y/N wasn't in the cabinet.

"I will now make my wife disappear!" Vision announced, opening the doors to show the crowd and shutting them before Wanda could enter.

"Are you sure you don't want an audience volunteer named "My husband Ralph?" Agnes called from the crowd.

The rest of the crowd, particularly the women, laughed at Agnes' joke.

"No. Abracadabra!" Vision cheered, tapping his wand on the cabinet door.

"Uh, Vision, sweetheart?" Wanda said from where she still stood.

"Yeah?"

"Hi." Wanda waved, causing Vision to freeze.

"Oh."

"Hiya, darlings," Y/N announced, now standing beside Vision.

"Oh." Both her partners said, now staring at her.

"What's in the box?" The crowd began to chant. "What's in the box? What's in the box?"

"What is in the box?" Vision asked, staring at his wives in confusion.

"What's in the box? What's in the box?"

Wanda pointed at the cabinet, and when she and Vision opened the doors, there stood Geraldine.

The audience all gasped at the woman's appearance before beginning to clap wildly.

"Let's bounce," Y/N said, grabbing Vision's hand and dragging him off stage with Wanda following behind.

Once away from the crowd, Vision immediately began to cry.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I'm so stupid." Vision cried.

"Vis, it is all right," Wanda assured, putting her hands on Vision's chest.

"Vision, it's okay, everything is fine. You're not stupid." Y/N added, taking his hand in one of hers.

"But what is going on with you?" Wanda demanded of him.

"I have no idea!" Vision cried. "I've been feeling weirdy all day!"

"It's okay. We can solve this," Y/N told him soothingly.

Wanda stepped back and raised her hand towards him. She began to scan through Vision's systems and stopped in the middle of his torso. 

Vision let out a groan at the sensation as Wanda's eyes widened.

Wanda worked her magic and forced the gum out of Vision's systems.

The gum forced itself up Vision's throat and out of his mouth.

"Disgusting," Y/N said, cringing at the scene.

"Well, would you look at that? That really gummed up the works, didn't it?" Vision joked, the gum that had caused so many problems between his fingers. "I'm not as funny without it, am I?" He asked when neither of his wives responded.

"Oh, honey, no," Y/N said, squeezing his hand. "You weren't funny with it either." She teased.

"Well, you're back to yourself." Wanda sighed, relieved.

"And that's all we really need," Y/N promised, leaning up to kiss his cheek.

"Now, let's get out of here before Dottie, and the planning committee, string us up for ruining the show," Wanda said to the two.

"Don't joke. The cult might actually do that." Y/N commented.

"I'm sorry, what cult?" Vision asked, looking quite concerned.

"I'll explain later," Y/N promised as the three reached the edge of the curtains.

The three tried to inconspicuously sneak away from the show but were stopped with a cry.

"You three, stop right there!"

"Oh, we're dead." Y/N cringed as the three began to turn around with grimaces adorning their faces. 

"Nothing, like what the three of you just did up there, has ever happened in the history of our talent show," Dottie told the three.

"Dottie, we are so,"

"Hilarious." Dottie cut Wanda off. "That was the most hilarious act we've ever seen. Wouldn't you agree?" Dottie asked the crowd, who applauded in agreeance.

Wanda let out a relieved chuckle while Y/N grinned victoriously.

"Oh, yes, of course!" Vision exclaimed, playing along as if everything that had just happened was intentional.

"You three, come on up. Come on." Dottie ordered. 

The married three all looked at one another before agreeing it was safe to move on stage.

"On behalf of the planning committee, I would like to award you with the inaugural Comedy Performance of the year," Dottie announced, handing Wanda the trophy.

The audience rose to their feet and began to cheer for the three.

Wanda, Y/N, and Vision all giddily grinned as Wanda raised the trophy, and they indulged in their moment.

Wanda heard clapping from the stage side and turned her head to see Geraldine clapping happily.

Y/N, noticing where Wanda was looking, also turned to Geraldine and began to gesture her over.

"Come on." Wanda mouthed as the other woman hesitated.

With a bit more encouraging, and Vision pulling her over, Geraldine finally moved to stand with the three, a smile on her face.

"I do have to ask," Geraldine whispered, turning her head to Vision. "One second I'm backstage, and the next, I'm in a dark cubby hole." She said as the four bowed. "How'd you do it?"

"Oh, a magician never reveals his secrets." Vision said sagely. "He leaves that to his assistants.

"And she's not talking," Y/N told the curious woman.

"Nope. Neither of them are." Wanda added with a sly smile.

"Why did I have a feeling you'd say that?" Geraldine asked with a giggle.

"For the children!" Norm called from the crowd.

"For the children!" The rest of the crowd repeated.

"It's still culty," Y/N whispered in her wife's ear.

The three were in a joyful mood as they walked home. Despite the show not going the way they had wanted it to, everything had turned out okay.

They had fit in with their neighbors, entertained their friends, and no-one was any the wiser about their secrets.

"When did you learn to salsa dance?" Wanda laughed, watching as Y/N and Vision danced down the street.

"I don't remember when I learned to, I just know it was at night, and I read many books on the subject." Vision said as he twirled Y/N out.

"Of course you." Y/N laughed before she took over the dominant role and began to lead. She then spun Vision towards Wanda.

The three continued to dance into their home, their costumes and other items balanced in skilled hands.

"You were tremendous, Glamour." Vision complimented, opening the door as Wanda dramatically fell into his arms.

"As were you, Illusion," Wanda said, grinning up at the man.

"Despite the circumstances." Y/N smiled, entering behind the two. Wanda had moved out of Vision's arms to put the trophy away, allowing Vision to wrap both arms around Y/N's waist.

"Why, thank you, Allure." Vision said, smiling down at his wife. Y/N returned the smile before leaning up to kiss the man.

"I don't know what I was so worried about." Wanda sighed, taking her seat on the couch. "It wasn't so hard to fit in at all." 

"And all we had to do was be ourselves." Vision agreed, sitting to her right.

"At least the public version," Y/N smirked, sitting on Wanda's other side.

"And it was all for the children."

"For the children."

"For the children."

"Well, I think the children might need some popcorn," Wanda commented.

"And some coffee," Y/N added as she and Wanda rose to their feet.

"Wanda. Y/N." Vision said, stopping the two of them in their tracks.

"Hmm, what?"

"Yes, sweetheart?" 

As Vision rose from the couch, his gaze remained focused on their stomachs, causing the two to finally look down.

"Oh shoot." Y/N gasped, noting hers and Wanda's matching bellies. 

"Is this really happening?" Wanda asked, a hand on her engorged stomach and her other on Y/N's.

"Yes, my love." Vision smiled, leaning down to kiss Wanda gently as if she would break if he applied too much pressure.

"We're gonna have a family." Y/N smiled, pressing her fingertips onto Wanda's stomach as her husband and wife pulled apart.

"We are, my dove." Vision nodded, grin still attached to his face, before leaning down and kissing Y/N with the same gentleness.

"We're pregnant." Wanda grinned, her eyes slightly glassy before she pulled Y/N into a kiss. Hers more firm than the one's Vision had done.

As Wanda kissed Y/N, there was a loud banging outside, causing the three to jump.

"If that's that damn tree again, I'm going to rip it out by the roots." Vision snapped, storming towards the door.

"Don't touch my tree, Vis!" Y/N exclaimed as she and Wanda followed after Vision.

"I don't see anything," Wanda said as the three searched the yard for the noise.

"What is that?" Vision asked, standing at the gate. Y/N and Wanda moved to see what he was looking at and saw a storm drain cover moving.

As something began to climb out, Vision moved forward and wrapped his arms around his wives protectively.

A man in a beekeeper's costume emerged, a swarm of bees surrounding him.

"No," Wanda whispered as the man's head snapped towards the three.

"We're pregnant." Wanda grinned, her eyes slightly glassy before she pulled Y/N into a kiss. Hers more firm than the one's Vision had done.

When the two pulled apart, it was as if their world was suddenly all the more vibrant. 

Their home was bright, and the three were glowing. 

"Everything's changing," Y/N said, looking at her partners with a grin.

"It is." Vision agreed, pulling the two women into his embrace.

"All for the better," Wanda told the two.

And it was. 

Taglist will be open throughout the series.  

@x-uglyprincess-x @imthedoctorlove @loveinnoya @unknownalien3388 @bindythedemon @summersimmerus @buckmesidewaysandcallmesteve @natasharomanoffismywife @mcsteamy4ever @monxpeet @amywinehouseisgod @milleniumloki @buckybarnesplumwhore @kennedywxlsh @drpepperobsessed @madamevirgo @superbsccissorsdeanexpert @itty-bitty-witch @essenceproxima @severusminerva @okkulta @mrscasnovak @niki-is-a-thing

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yet again im back on my bullshit so... (gazes with mixed feelings at the TV show Firefly) i could fix him.

my extremely long thoughts about my Own Personal Good Version of Firefly (with plenty of spoilers for the show and the movie) under the cut:

things that are getting axed first thing no question:

out with the whole “let’s add in a thin veneer of Chinese cultural aesthetics out of context for ~flavor~” deal. just no.

instead, let’s hire some actors from a bunch of different cultures and work with them to figure out how their characters would bring those cultures into space with them!! and also hopefully bring some experiences with immigration/alienation/travel into it, since the Whole Core of Firefly is about how humanity always brings our doomed and silly and stubborn and unique warmth with us even into the cold void where nothing is familiar or homey in the slightest.

let’s respect our sex worker character shall we?

i do appreciate that Inara’s work as a companion is described as legitimate and well respected in the show. however please stop having your captain and hero call her a wh*re every five seconds against her clearly expressed wishes and portraying this as just a totally acceptable thing

let’s be more respectful of our characters of color and also have some more diversity, shall we?

others have put it better than me but yeah, the way Zoe and Book are treated is very uncomfy, and the rest of the show is depressingly monochromatic. come on let’s do better.

stop the weird confederacy hat tips

again others have pointed these out with much more thoroughness than I could, but the names of some characters and locations, as well as some of the language used to describe the browncoats, has uncomfortably confederate vibes. instead i propose we very Clearly tip our hats to the Alliance equaling space capitalism instead! you can’t go wrong with space capitalism as a villain.

don’t! make! the! psychotic! character! violent!

listen i love River Tam with my whole heart. but you should absolutely not portray your only character with psychosis as violent because of that psychosis!!!!!!! and yeah, a huge part of her character is that her brain got fucked up by the alliance and so she hallucinates and is also a super ninja. but like. she doesn’t need to be a super ninja for her character to work, okay? the crew does not need to be scared of her for her character to work, okay??? more on this later bc it would take a lot of care and nuance to make her character work but i really think it can be done

things we are absolutely keeping:

found family tropes my fucking beloved

this should be self evident. this is why the show is as appealing as it is despite its flaws, at least in my eyes.

malcolm reynolds, the knight in dusty armor

there’s something so appealing to me about what Mal stands for. because at his core is this ridiculous, silly, stubborn, doomed devotion to what he thinks is important and right, a romantic idealism thinly covered by cynical cowboy platitudes that he thinks make his bleeding heart totally invisible. and he is so obvious and entirely incorrect. bless. this is a man who will do anything for his family, who charges into swordfights to defend his friend from a man who wants to turn her into an object despite having no clue how to hold a sword. at his worst, he starts brawls in bars just for the martyr’s thrill of being persecuted for supporting the right; at his best, he inspires downright religious belief from his crew because he represents a romantic and chivalrous and doomed dedication to the right thing over any practical concerns. and then he throws a “selfish” quip over it with 100% confidence that everyone fell for his clever distraction and believes him to be a dirtbag. he’s oblivious and ridiculous and god he makes me want to be a better person because he’s just so goddamned sincere. stupid, but sincere. 10/10 himbo. <3

Mal and Inara ultraslowburn friends to enemies to friends to lovers to enemies to friends to lovers to friends to...

there’s nothing i love more than a ship that’s just two people who know each other way too well, and they’re each the only one who knows the other well enough to call them out on their bullshit. the way Mal and Inara interact in the show sometimes makes me uncomfy but like. the core of their relationship has to stay.

space western aesthetic

i need the cows on a spaceship scene to stay like i need air okay

that sweet sweet religious shit

mal, who lost his faith in gd and a whole lot else during the war. who lost his faith in himself, and now feels he has to hide the part of him that still wants to be good, because he knows he can’t be anymore, and he feels like it’s embarrassing for a guy like him to want something so unattainable. who takes a preacher on board, and the preacher has lost something, too. the preacher has his own past, and his own questions. but not questions like the observant neurodivergent girl, the one who wants to interact with and understand this thing that’s so important to him, but it just doesn’t click with how her brain works and she feels like something needs to be fixed, either the Bible or herself. and Mal takes care of them all, and slowly, he begins to find gd again, not in a prayer but in humanity. humanity doesn’t need to be fixed, like the alliance thinks. the shining imperfect strawberry sweetness of it in his family’s smiles is something to be worshiped and served and devoted to. and he finds he has something to believe in again. (and his crew find that he’s given them someone to believe in, too. and maybe suddenly he’s a saint.)

and finally, my brilliant ideas as to what i would like to add:

TRANS WOMAN KAYLEE RIGHTS

listen her femininity is so important to me okay? it’s so thrilled about everything that’s pretty, from dresses to the spaceship’s electric innards, and it’s so non-traditional and grease stained until it’s not and it’s pink and ruffly and twirly, and she never sees any of it as a contradiction, because none of it contradicts, it’s all just her! her gender is warmth and love and prettiness, feeling pretty and appreciating the pretty and making her friends’ days pretty too.

i want us to find out she’s trans in that episode with the ball, and i want us to find out alongside Mal who just never asked or never realized. Kaylee gasps and squeals at the dress in the shop window and Mal makes an off handed, ill considered comment, and then... someone yanks him aside and hisses a few very significant words in his ear. and suddenly he remembers what the blue white and pink she painted all over the engine room means, and he knows he has something to make right. so he buys her that dress himself and lets her know just how pretty she looks, and when he walks into that ball with her displayed on his arm like something precious, he looks the proudest out of any man there. and she notices. for a few seconds, of course, until there’s chocolate, and ‘nara, and a chandelier—and some horrible girls, but she’s used to that, until—suddenly, she finds her people. a group of old men who light up when she jokes about compression coils and whack presumptuous boys who ask her to dance. they adopt her as a treasured granddaughter, and Mal is beaming at her like a proud dad, and she finds that one of her new elderly friends gazes a little too long at her bracelet, and so she gives it to xem and teaches xem a few new words, and... it’s a good day, huh? it’s a really good day. (of course, then the captain has to go and punch somebody in the face, but it was a real nice party up until then.)

also she and Simon are both transhet t4t im correct and you know it

time for a better River Tam

the first thing we’ve established is that this version of her is not unpredictably violent and the crew is not scared of her!!!! it makes no sense to take a kid who’s primarily brilliant, experiment on her brain, give her telepathic powers....... and tack on the fact that she also has super strength and speed and dexterity and what not, AND say that they programmed her to be super violent. no! no. not only is that extremely harmful rep, that’s also just stupid.

instead!! my version of River is in fact not terrifying to the crew, but is actually the one they feel safest around. River has always been totally blunt, she was one of those kids you could tell realllllly early was autistic, and she doesn’t like being disengenous at all. so you can always trust her to tell the truth and not play weird passive aggressive games or have any hidden agenda, which makes her just a really chill person to be around. also, one of her longtime special interests is music and dance, so whether or not she’s nonverbal on a given day, there will always be some sort of beautiful sound when she’s around. she does have the singing voice of a dying crow unfortunately but that’s ok bc Simon’s is even worse and they’re both incredibly competitive so you’ll at least get free entertainment out of the affair.

my version of River does have psychosis and hallucinations because of the trauma of the experiments, and they are really troubling to her. she and Simon work together to find ways to cope and meds that help, and it’s a process, but there are some things that help.

the only thing she gained from the academy was the ability to hear people’s thoughts and sense the future a little bit. and yeah, that led to her picking up a few spooky secrets at the beginning, which, yikes. and for a while, it was hard to figure out which voices were real and which were hallucinations. but around her friends, she always feels safe to ask “did you just think about triple cheese burritos or was that just a me thing?”, and they’ll always tell her the truth no matter how embarrassing their thoughts are, bc it’s important to all of them to respect her and help her sort accurately through what’s reality and what’s not. and bit by bit, she gets better and better at figuring out what kinds of things tend to be telepathy and what kinds of things tend to be psychosis, and that each one feels a little different. and because of the trust and respect and support of her found family she’s able to do that in a safe environment!!!

trans man Simon rights

listen i wanted to keep him as just a side note on Kaylee’s list but he is my son and he’s important to my heart so here goes

out on the outer rim where Kaylee’s from, gender ain’t much of a big deal, there’s an individualistic quality to life out there, and so if the trail you blaze is the trail of a woman or a man or neither or both, that’s respected even in the rare cases where it’s not outright encouraged. but in the inner planets, where competition and connections and public faces and family names are everything, you have to be what’s expected of you to survive. you can’t change your brand, you can’t be anything other than what your family planned for you since before you were born, it’s incredibly hard to survive in such a hyper competitive environment, and so your very identity becomes just a tool in how to market yourself for better success.

needless to say Simon (just as autistic as his little sister and also very trans) fuckin hated it there. but he was very good at it. correction: he was very good at his very specific field of STEM, good enough to where people stopped talking about how cute he looked in bows and started talking about how impressive his work was from a very young age. and his work had no gender. he could be whatever he wanted to in equations. so that was where he could express himself, and gd, he got so much praise for it, he never wanted to stop.

not until he discovered that his sister needed him, and ran away, and needed a disguise, and realized... suddenly, every stifling rule and prying eye was a million miles away. he was freefloating, freefalling, with none of the charted paths he’d been following all his life... so you know what? fuck it. he’s always enjoyed the name Simon. and since it’s not on any legal records, it’ll make him just that much more untraceable.

and on Serenity, starting over with new people who never knew him before his transition feels like an unbelievable blessing that just dropped right into his lap. he has to keep up the secrecy, he has to make sure they never find out who he used to be, because gd, it’s so nice when they look at him and say his name right, and he doesn’t know if he can handle losing that, not when it’s so new and so important to the person he’s finally becoming. but then one day, the unthinkable happens, the wanted posters for his arrest have an old name on them, they’re looking for the Tam sisters, and... nothing changes. the crew of Serenity could not give even a tenth of a percent of a fuck, and it doesn’t seem like they even know they’re supposed to. huh. that’s new. Simon could get used to that, he thinks.

i’m sure there’s more i could add, but it’s 4:30 in the morning now, so if more occurs to me, ill simply add it in a reblog tomorrow. if you’ve read down this far, i am in love with you. please let me know your Better Firefly ideas, too, bc im always down to yell about this show!!!

[thefallenbibliophilequote]

If you’ll have me

Bucky x insecure!reader

Summary: my entry to “The Other Punk’s 500 Writing Challenge” by the lovely @buckys-other-punk I chose the prompt: “I want you to remember: you deserve this”

The reader moves to the avengers compound, she soon learns how easy it is to fall for a certain supersoldier and how easy it is to give into the lies your brain tells you, and how hard it is to see your own worth in a building full of superheroes.

Warning: panic attacks, self-image issues, anxiety, bad writing, fluff of course, all the themes from the 2012 avengers mindset, endgame!steve is non-existent and everyone is alive bc wow I changed the timeline!

Word count: 4,677

A/N: this prompt could have gone in a spideypool comic kinda way- sarcastic and witty and funny; Or in the direction that I took, I’m at a rough spot so I decided to write the kind of fic that I could use right now. This is the first time I’m sharing my writing, to anyone. So hopefully my nerves won’t be the death of me.

A/N 2: so, I planned this to be around 2k but it got out of hand and the characters did whatever they wanted, I had no control and so the plot is different than what I originally thought.

—

You can’t say no to Tony Stark, you learned that very early on in your friendship. It was absolutely impossible. So when he out of the blue showed up at your apartment at 2am with a request to move out of your house and into the Avengers compound… you knew there was no way out.

Unlike your best friend, you were more introverted, the thought of moving into a big compound full of superheroes and gods was scary for a civilian. But tony needed you, and you are nothing if not loyal to him.

Ever since the fight between tony and Steve, he told you how lonely he felt in the big tower, after they made peace and settled back into the tower- even though they talked it out and were understanding, tony wanted you around.

“It’s to ease the tension, you are easy to get along with, they will all love you. And you got me to talk about my emotions so maybe you could help them. A little normal in our chaotic life, it’s purely logical.” He said to you, but you could read him better than that. Yes, his argument was logical, but he just wanted a friend.

So of course, you agreed. Working for Pepper was so much better than your old stupid job, she was an angel compared to your mean boss. So a month later you moved into the compound and settled in with Pepper on your new job as her assistant.

When you first met the infamous Winter Soldier he was back from a visit to Wakanda just a few days after you moved in. You noticed his left arm was different from what you’ve seen on the news- it was now black and a little golden, no red star in sight.

He was laughing with The Falcon and ran his fingers through his short hair when tony walked with you into the common room his arm around your shoulder as you walked towards the two avengers. Tony told you everything, so you knew about their past and while he told you how they both decided to move on from that you where still a little nervous.

“Y/N meet: Birdie and Spiky.” Tony gestured forward as he took you to meet the two avengers “Guys, this is the incredible Y/N.”

“I’m Sam, pleasure to meet you.” He nodded to you and shook your hand “this is Spiky.”

“Spiky? Really Tony, you could do better than that, my hair is not that spiky.” He shook his head but you could hear the amusement in his voice. That was a good sign you thought, but that was before he looked at you and you saw his eyes, the blue piercing through your soul. “I’m Bucky.”

“Y/N” you raised your left hand to shake his, you could see a slight tension forming in his eyes as he raised his vibranium hand to meet yours, eyes studying you. You smiled at him.

He flashed you a smile that made your heart skip a bit. This is definitely going to be a problem.

“Are you a new recruit?” Sam had asked you then.

“Oh no, I’m just a friend.” You looked at tony with a smirk “apparently this guy can’t function without me so I decided to move here, for the sake of saving the world from the worst cook ever.”

“It was one time Y/N! I did not mean to blow up your microwave.” Tony looked betrayed as he looked at you.

“I present to you one of the world’s greatest mechanics ladies and gentlemen!” you waved your hands towards Tony. You could see the amusement in his eyes, giving in his failed look of annoyance.

“I already regret my decision,” he groaned and rolled his eyes at you. “I hate you.”

“No you don’t.”

“Well, it was very nice to meet you Y/N,” Bucky redirected the conversation to you again, A sincere look on his face. “I hope we will see you around more then.”

“Unfortunately, we have to go, Cap is waiting for us.” Sam nodded towards you and Tony. You returned a goodbye before tony swept you away to show you his new project.

“What was it back there lover boy?” Sam teased Bucky when you were out of earshot. Bucky looked back at you and shook his head.

“Don’t know what you are talking about, Wilson.”

“Sure” Sam laughed at him but let it go.

As much as you hated to admit that tony was right, it didn’t take long for the team to warm up to you and take you as one of their own. Two weeks later and you found your place there. Natasha and you became quite close as you, Wanda, and Pepper occasionally had girls night.

Tony was smug all day long when one day at the lab Bruce told you that you’re very calming to have around. When Steve and Sam agreed and said it could have a good effect on the team Tony’s smugness somehow increased. It was very annoying. No one should ever let Tony be proved right.

Thor was the biggest puppy you have ever met, basically a Labrador. You found out his slight obsession with pop tarts, and you took it on yourself to educate him on some pop culture because let’s be honest who would turn down an opportunity to watch your favorite movies with someone who wouldn’t object to any of them. When you one time watched the Sherlock Holmes movie with Thor and Steve came in and said he didn’t watch it, you decided it is absolutely essential to have a movie night. You found Clint in the vents shouting an agreement to you.

Even though you managed to befriend Thor, Loki and you soon became good friends. He appreciated your skill of lie detecting and you two often sat and read books together.

Then there was Bucky, your friendship started to form when you joined in on a prank on Sam. You and Bucky ran so fast, dying of laughter, as Sam chased you around with his brand new sparkly pink wings.

From there you friendship blossomed, but to your dismay so did your little crush. It started from invitations to go on walks, to him coming to your door in the dead of the night in seek for comfort after a nightmare. You always let him in. you’d listen to him if he wanted you to, and you distracted him when he didn’t.

Your best friend never showed up to breakfast so you’d sit next to Bucky instead. In movie nights you found Bucky saving you a seat next to him every time until he didn’t have to, it was a silent agreement amongst the team.

You never would have expected the next development though: Bucky was a cuddler. It started small, a hand on the small of your back in the morning when he entered the kitchen. Then an arm in the dark around your shoulder, stroking your arm as you all sat and watched a movie.

“Can I just maybe lie down?” he asked one night. It was 3am and the dark circles under his eyes made your heart ache. You just nodded but were surprised at his actions. You assumed he meant to lie down on the bed rather than sitting against the headboard. He lowered himself on the bed and put his head on your thighs and began to talk to you. You got over your momentary shock to listen to what he wants to talk about, absentmindedly you found yourself stroking his short hair. It was soft and from his content sigh he seemed to enjoy it too.

Imagine the Fourth of July. Now, imagine it with a bit more… Tony. That’s exactly what happened to Steve’s birthday party. Tony told you all about what he was planning weeks before, and you two worked about it endlessly since then. You were a bit annoyed at first, it was way too extravagant to your taste but now that you’re standing at the entrance, looking down from the stairs at all the people there, you couldn’t help but feel proud. The people there varied, from the avengers to the agents you didn’t recognize and all sorts of people who you assumed were high profiled? Never the one to initiate a conversation with a stranger you went ahead to the bar to try and find Tony.

Instead, at the bar you found Natasha who sat there with a drink, scaring away anyone who tried to bother her, you of course she welcomed.

“I’m so glad you came! I know it’s not really your thing but this place looks amazing, so is your dress!” Natasha gashed at you.

“You look absolutely incredible Nat!” you took in her tight short stress and how well she looked in it, she was your friend but you could feel the discomfort start to grow. You smoothed down your skirt. “Do you know where tony is?”

“he is probably talking to some rich assholes who are leaning in to his every word” she joked with you, “I think I saw him with our birthday boy so maybe you should ask him.” She nodded to behind you.

“Steve! Happy birthday!” you rushed to hug him. “How do you like the party?”

“Well, tony sure has expensive taste, it’s lovely Y/N.” America’s golden boy smiled at you.

“Speaking of tony, have you seen him?”

“Yeah, he was actually looking for you earlier, he’s right there.” Steve pointed to the other side of the room where tony stood with Pepper, surrounded by a group of people.

With a short thank you, you attempted to make your way there, casting tens of apologies as you tried to shuffle through the dancing crowd. From the corner of your eye you spotted Bucky, sitting on the couch next to a girl who was basically sitting in his lap, you saw the smile on his face, you never saw that kind of smile on him before. In an attempt to ignore the twist in your stomach, you continued pushing people until you found Tony, surrounded by a whole new group now. When he noticed you and the look on your face, he whispered to Pepper who then diverted the conversation away from Tony- who slipped away towards you.

“Hey darling, I tried to find you earlier.” He told you as he gave you a hug.

“It took me a little longer to get ready I guess.” You looked behind you to see Bucky still with that girl, you adjusted your dress.

Tony took in your actions. He knew you too well.

“Do you want to go outside, a little bit of fresh air could help?”

“No, no you love these parties! I can’t take you away from that.” You dismissed it quickly.

“Well fine, if you want me to enjoy it so much then dance with me.” He dragged you to the DJ and you heard him ask for a couple of slower songs, and then dragged you to the middle of the dance floor. You heard your favorite song playing and tony enveloped you in his arms, immediately comforting you. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“There isn’t really much to talk about, you know how sometimes these parties can trigger me. Sometimes it can make a person like me feel a bit inadequate I guess.” You leaned your head on his chest.

“You’re better than all of these people sweetheart, you’re my best friend tell me who made you feel like this and I will personally give them a free ride to Antarctica.” You could see him doing that which made you laugh.

“With all the penguins? That sounds fun though.” You argued.

“Oh you’re right. I guess I’ll have to think of a different place then. Do you think Barnes would like the desert? I mean with that metal arm it must heat up-”

“Wait what? Why would you say Bucky?” that sneaky son of a bitch.

“Come on, I saw you look at him, did he make you feel bad?” tony looked you in the eyes this time, sincere.

“No,” you shrugged. “I just saw Nat and all these beautiful agents and then I saw him with one and I guess it just made me feel bad way too fast. He didn’t do anything wrong.”

Some days were worse than others, some days it was just a few passing thoughts, some it was thunder and dark lingering clouds.

“Well, there isn’t a point in me telling you how gorgeous you are because you will never believe me, even though you are and I should probably get you an eye doctor, maybe schedule something with Dr. Cho. Anyway, if this is because of Barnes, then I can assure you he only has eyes for you.”

“I don’t need an eye doctor!” you hit his arm and laughed, before putting your head back on his chest. “And about the other thing, I doubt that. I think maybe he should be with someone more like him, which makes more sense.” You still looked around, not seeing Bucky anywhere.

“I don’t think you should make any sort of decision when you’re this anxious. I don’t think you’re capable of clear judgment in this situation darling.” He said to you quietly, worried overtones in his voice.

“I’m fine Tony, I’m not that anxious.”

“your hands are shaking Y/N…” as he told you that, you looked at the hand you put on his chest, his hand now cradled it as you saw it shaking. How did you not notice it? When tony saw as you realized what was happening he knew there was no room for argument. “I’m taking you away.”

You put up no fight as he quickly managed to take you away without drawing too much attention. You didn’t see Bucky searching for you in the crowd after that.

Bucky sat there on the couch, happy for his best friend as he enjoyed his party. He was smiling uncomfortably as the girl next to him scooted closer to him. His mental health got a lot better, and his confidence grew- he felt the man he once was but newer, most of the time. Big crowds still managed to get to him though. He nodded along to the girl next to him who refused to call him anything but James, he tried to be polite. He hated the crowds, you would know that. He thought. Then he heard your favorite song playing from the far side of the room, there he finally saw you, dancing with Tony. He knew tony was your best friend, but he still felt a tug at his heart as you put your head near his arc reactor.

He has been pondering on when to tell you about his feelings for you, confident that you wouldn’t turn him down. The two of you grew so close, you were an absolute angel to him. He saw you hit Tony’s arm and suddenly his smile turned genuine. He knew you felt the same way as him, it was hard to ignore. You seemed almost as happy as he is when the two of you are alone. Maybe he could tell you tonight.

“James? Are you even listening to me?” the girl called him.

“Yes, sorry, your name is August right?” she nodded at him. “Sorry but I have to go, I have a couple of things to do.” He got up then and went towards where he last saw you, but you where nowhere to be found.

The next day tony seemed to be stuck at your side, you tried to tell him that you’re fine but he insisted to “borrow you from Pepper because he needs an assistant.” Or so he claims. Apparently he needed an assistant to buy him ice cream in your favorite flavor or to cook him a meal which coincidentally happens to be your favorite desert- to give him credit he did try to help but he might have tried to mix the eggs with the flour and got it all over the counter. You burst into a fit of laughter and he told F.R.I.D.A.Y to order pizza. So, the two of you sat in the kitchen with your pizza, after cleaning the place.

“I might have to borrow you from Pepper more often, you are a great assistant.”

“Yeah, sure” you played along before setting your pizza down. “Thank you Tony.”

“Anytime” He smiled at you through a mouthful of pizza.

The kitchen door opened, and in stumbled Steve and Bucky, who for once slept in today.

“Well hello boys, what got you looking so bad?” Tony smirked at them.

“It’s all Thor’s fault, he brought the Asgardian mead.” Steve said, you laughed at his hangover state, it was rare but precious.

“Hey doll, I didn’t get to talk to you yesterday, couldn’t find you.” He smiled at you, his rough voice nearly killed you- you were certain. You looked over at tony as you stumbled over what to say.

“We left early, she claimed I was too drunk and should get some air.” He winked at you “isn’t she just the best Barnes?” he then looked at Bucky; you swear you hated him sometimes.

“An absolute angel,” Bucky replied, assessing tony. “But you seem okay enough.”

“Yes well I tried telling her, but she insisted.” Tony easily replied and matched Bucky’s stare.

“How did you manage to get him to actually listen to you Y/N? That’s impressive.” Steve commented, oblivious to the slight tension as he made coffee.

“Years of practice I guess, it is hard to accomplish because he sure can be an ass sometimes.” You kicked Tony under the table to look at you. He only smiled.

“Capcicle doesn’t like that kind of language Y/N.” you heard Steve groaning as he put a coffee cup in front of Bucky who was seated next to you, and sat in front of him next to tony.

“That happened years ago Tony!”

“Doll, I was wondering if you wanted to watch a movie later maybe?” Bucky leaned in to ask you, before you could answer though, Steve spoke up.

“Why is there flour on the counter?”

“On your ass too, you picked the wrong chair.” Tony helpfully chimed in “you know, those pants do nothing for your ass.”

“Tony messed up the kitchen, I guess we didn’t clean it all.” You said apologetically and got up. “I actually have a lot of things to do for Pepper today, since tony stole me, so I should probably go start on that.” You exited the room, looking forward to a distraction at work.

“Tony, you know you shouldn’t cook!” Steve patted the chair, and then sat on it again.

“Hey, I was only trying to help Y/N in baking a cake, I had good intentions!” tony defended.

“Why was she making a cake in the afternoon?”

“Relax Barnes, I asked her to bake me a cake but when it tragically somehow blew up we settled on pizza.” Tony lifted up his slice of pizza in proof. “Why do you care anyway?”

“What kind of question is that?” Bucky looked at him quizzically. “Tony, is there some sort of a problem?”

“I’m just asking, why do you care about her?” Steve noticed the change in the question but Bucky just looked confused.

“I care about her because she is my friend, just like the rest of you here!” Bucky was getting angry by the second, where was this all coming from?

“Yes, but do you care about her only as a friend?” tony asked and this time Bucky noticed the change and his anger all melted away.

“No.” he admitted, not bothering to hide it. “Were you just trying to get me to confess my feelings?”

“They learn things so fast, don’t they Steve?” he looked at an amused Steve who just nodded.

“Even I couldn’t get him to say something. Good job Tony.”

“Okay, I am leaving, this is clearly an ambush.” Bucky left the kitchen then.

Bucky was headed to his room to clear his head, hoping you won’t be as busy tomorrow. He was in the hallway when he passed your room, it was then that he heard your TV on; he recognized the theme song of Brooklyn Nine-Nine playing. Why were you watching TV when you said you’re working? Bucky went to his room and decided to let it go.

For the next week Bucky studied your moves carefully. You started to avoid going out with him, making excuses that he could easily read as lies. At night you accepted him with open arms to talk about his nightmares, but he noticed you smiled less now. When movie night came along he found the seat next to him empty as you sat next to tony, he wasn’t the only one to notice it. That was it for him.

“Nat,” he found Natasha the next day alone in the common room. “Do you know if Y/N is upset with me?”

“Probably, yes, I don’t know why though.” Natasha shrugged.

“I don’t know what I did, she is still nice to me but she avoids even being in the same room as me.” Bucky sat next to her. The assassin put her book down finally and paid attention to Bucky. “I don’t know what to do; I can’t accuse her of anything. I just feel something is wrong. We were really close.”

“I’m sure it’s nothing major, you should talk to her.” Natasha put her hand on his, to try and comfort her friend. She’s seen the way you looked at each other, it was impossible to miss the connection.

You entered the room, unaware of the conversation until you looked up and the two avengers stopped talking and looked at you, but you looked at the position they were in, you were clearly interrupting a private conversation.

“Oh, sorry, I didn’t realize you were here. Sorry, I’ll leave you two alone.” You exited the room before Bucky even stood up, he came to seat back down but Nat kicked him.

“What are you doing? Go and talk to her!” she all but commanded him. He wasn’t going to fight Natasha, that’s just a lost cause.

You were safe in your room, it was all fine. Everything was fine. You couldn’t have expected that falling for an avenger would be a good idea. They are different from you, you’re just… you. They are superheroes. Everyone in the building is either a highly trained agent or one of the top scientists in the world. You were just Tony’s friend, here to support him and maybe bring some normalcy to the superheroes. How could you possibly compete with all that? Your lungs felt too tight, it’s like you could barely breathe.

“Miss Y/N I am recognizing symptoms of a possible panic attack, would you like me to call Mr. Stark?” F.R.I.D.A.Y called to you, snapping you out of your daze.

“No, don’t call tony, or anyone, can you just talk me through breathing?” the AI complied until you managed to calm down and get your breathing right. Bless Tony Stark, anxiety can fuck off.

“Miss, Sergeant Barnes is requesting to open the door; I have shut it alongside any outside noise, would you like me to lift it?”

“Yes F.R.I.D.A.Y, thank you.” You could handle it. You opened the door to see a frustrated Bucky. “Hi Bucky, what do you need?”

Bucky just stepped right into your room and shut the door behind him.

“I need you to tell me what did I do wrong?”

“What? You didn’t do anything wrong.” You were confused now.

“Then why the hell are you avoiding me? I thought you were happy, I thought you wanted me around.” Oh, how could you explain this to him without him taking pity on you?

“Of course I want you around Bucky, it’s okay it’s not that. I’m just giving you space. It’s alright.” You tried to assure him, while also hoping you could convince yourself.

“Giving me space? Doll I don’t want space away from you. Why are you pulling away from me?” he reached for your hand, his metal arm trying to bring you closer.

“Bucky, really it’s alright. Just let this go.” You pleaded him.

“No it’s not alright, I’m not alright. Because the woman I’m in love with is pushing me away and I don’t know what to do to bring her back to me!” He confessed to you, the frustration in his voice gave away to the longing look in his blue eyes.

“You- you what?” you stopped trying to resist him, your shock letting him pull you closer, he was holding both your arms now, keeping you close.

“I’m in love with you. Is it really that hard to believe?” He questions, his voice low now, as if someone might hear, and he wanted to keep this intimate moment just for the two of you.

“No.” you said before collecting yourself. “No, you can’t be in love with me.”

“Of course I can, it’s really easy to fall for you doll.” Bucky huffed a laugh. “I thought you felt the same way, do you?”

“I…” Could you really lie to a supersoldier? Would you lie to Bucky? “I do. Of course I do, but you don’t understand. Bucky, you’re a superhero, a supersoldier. I’m on the other hand just a girl with too much anxiety who happens to have the best friend in the world which is why I was even allowed to live here in the first place. You deserve so much better Bucky, you really do. And I- I don’t deserve you.” You hang your head low, if only he could realize that, it will hurt less. Your eyes were watering but you blinked them shut.

Bucky’s right hand came to your chin and held it up. You are an absolute idiot. Bucky mused at what you said.

“Doll, if there is one thing that I learned in therapy is that even after everything I did, I can still become the man I want to be and I deserve to get happiness. You make me so happy doll, you really do. But you deserve happiness too. Tell me, do I make you happy?”

“Yes, very much. But-”

“No. You deserve all the love and happiness in the world and if you’ll have me, I promise to keep you happy, always. I know I can’t solve anxiety, I have it too. But you help me with it, so I’ll do whatever I can to help you.”

You looked into the sea in his eyes, trying to find any doubt, but all you found was determination to make you understand, to make you believe it. And for a moment you did. That was all it took.

“If you’ll have me, I promise to make you happy and make sure you are loved, always.” You whispered. “Thank you.”

“No need to thank me, I just- I want you to remember, you deserve this. Whether it’s happiness with me or with someone else. You deserve to be loved by your friends, and if it’s here than this is your home and we’re your family. You deserve love and support and if it’s me then please, will you have me?”

“Yes. I don’t want anyone else.”

The next thing you knew, his lips crushed into yours, pouring out all of your emotion to the kiss. This feels right, this is right. Maybe you’re worthy of a happy ending after all. Maybe you’ll find it right here, in this compound, with Bucky.

Little did you know, in the far away land that is Tony’s messy lab, F.R.I.D.A.Y notified him per his request about your panic attack. Now, with the monitors turned on, he watched the two of you with a smile at his lips.

“F.R.I.D.A.Y? Tell Steve he owes me 20 bucks.”

[baku-writes]

Omgggg I just love the hawks request you did it was amazing and sooo good imma request something similar to it but with DABI/ Touya todoroki can you do where the reader and Touya as children like yk childhood friends both grew up with parents who abused them and one day Touya was about to get beaten badly in training and the reader took it for them ( timeskip when they learnt Touya died they were absolutely sadand almost suicide? And DABI finds her in time and they just talk and confess? <333 :)

AAAAAA I LOVE THIS IDEA!! Personally, even though Dabi isn't my fav character I love his backstory. I just find it so interesting.

Touya todoroki x gn!reader (mostly children versions so angst and fluff)

TW: Abuse, fake suicide (?), suicidal thoughts, minor bodily injury (mentions of burnt skin, bruises and blood). ANGST, spoilers (?)

Back from the dead

Summary: you and touya todoroki grew up together and were both victims of brutal parenting. However, when you took the punishment for Touya it was the final straw... he wasn't Touya anymore...

Life was difficult.

It always had been.

Your entire life you were told you would be nothing, your parents beat you into submission until no motivation ever sparked within you other than to be what they wanted. They wanted a hero. The next number one, just like allmight. They didn't want another version of endeavor, but a capable young hero who could fight any villain and take them down with ease.

Your parents weren't pro heroes, both were rejected by UA and didn't pass the hero course for any other school. It crushed them. But also drove them to insanity. Everything they had ever worked for in their childhood come crashing down within a short period of their lives, that is how the both met. However, when they had you they saw a sadistic glimmer of hope. Hope that their 'spawn' could do what they couldn't and hope that their child could live out their dream for them.

And so they would train you. And train you. And train you. Until you couldn't walk, talk and sometimes even eat due to exhaustion. But once they realised they could no longer give you any more training boosts due to their lack of experience, they handed you off to the number 2, endeavour. Even though they despised him, if that is what they had to do to make you strong.... they were going to make you do it.

And there you met Touya. A young boy, the same age as you, with aspirations and dreams of becoming the hero his father wanted him to be. However, like your parents, they taught this motivation through sadistic punishments and abusive training.

It was obvious the kid was worn out. Burn scars scorched his arms and even his face. It confused you, but also made you protective of him. You hated how overworked he was. You hated to see him get hurt. Ofcourse you wouldn't tell anyone this, knowing your sadistic parents they would threaten his life to motivate you.

One day it was the usual training. Your parents dropped you off at the number 2's house, with only a single bottle of water and a small dirt kids towel. Your overgrown and unkept hair was in an uncomfortably tight messy bun and your limbs ached from the previous days grueling training.

The day started off as normal: using your quirk until you couldn't do it anymore or collapse from exhaustion. Your quirk is called manipulation, it allows you to manipulate the shapes of near by non living objects, fir example you could make a smooth rock spiky. However, your quirk took a lot of focus and energy, so far you could only use your quirk on objects as large as a vase, you were only young.

Touya was next to you, hot flames spewing from his hands and arms. Singing his skin and burning the near by area... that was until he noticed his dads near by ornament fall and shatter on the ground.

Was this ornament important to endeavor? No. But would he still be pissed? Yes.

Fear immediately clouded Touya's mind....

"Nonononono" his panicked cries began to fill the room as you ran over to him, his cries would only alert endeavour sooner. Not because endeavour would be worried for him, but because endeavour would be angry at whatever he had done.

"Touya calm down. Here, I'll sweep it u-"

You barely had time to look up when you hear the sound of the door slam and angry heavy footsteps head towards the training room. Oh no. He's heard.

The door slammed open and silence cascaded over the room. Everything went still as time began to slow, the only sound you could hear was your heart thumping against your rib cage. Touya was going to get hurt.... and you hated that.

"Touya..... did you break the ornament?" He was calm at first. Some may see this as a good sign, but you two know better. He was going to explode any minute, he was a ticking time bomb waiting to blow.

"DID YOU BREAK THE FUCKING THING?" His voice was raised, his steps heading towards the two of you.

He raised his hand, ready to hit his son until your voice chimed in. Weak and unconfident you stood in front of your chest friend as you spoke.

"It was me... I broke it."

Silence filled the room. The scowl on his face grew deeper as he grabbed onto your arm with force.

"You know what's going to happen. Don't tell a fucking soul, you hear me?"

.....

After around 10 minutes you left the backroom, beaten and bloodied. Ofcourse, it wasn't to a severe extent, but still enough to hurt and be noticed by any possible strangers.

Touya didn't speak to you for the rest of the day.... and the next day training was cancelled...

Touya was dead.... death by fire. It was suicide. You knew it.

(TIME SKIP, CURRENT TIME)

The fall from the bridge seemed welcoming. You had got no where in life, running away from your parents at the age of 16 you found yourself helpless and homeless years later.

Recently, you discovered everything was a lie... Toiya wasn't dead... well the Touya you knew was. But the body if him was alive, just being controlled by a man who goes by the name "Dabi". You didn't want to accept that ot was your friend, you didn't want to accept the fact that you still liked him. He was a murderer... you should hate him. But what you hated even more was how you pitied endeavour, the abuser who tortured you two and lead his own son to 'suicide'. He had changed, but you will never forgive him.

The hopelessness and confusion in your life was too much. You let the cool air whip against your face for the final few minutes, you might as well enjoy the last moments in your life. Ironically, it was peaceful, you never really got peace before. And it had to be your final moments that ot decided to make an appearance.

Now was the time. The time to end this miserable life. The time to end the memories and pain that tormented you for years. You would never have to get hurt again, the pain will just stop and never appear. No one will miss you, your friend is gone and your family was never there. Tears began to pour down your face as you realised your life was nothing but a misery... you never even lived. You just survived...

You took a step closer to the ledge.

Until you felt a harsh tug pull you back and force you onto the concrete floor.

"OW WHAT THE HELL?!"

Your head shot up to glare at who ever pulled you down to the ground. But your blood ran cold as a white haired 5'9 figure covered in burn scars stood in front of you...

"D-dabi."

Shock overwhelmed your system, the tears ran down your face faster as you come face to face with your 'dead' best friend. The boy who abandoned you all those years ago..... the man who you never got over...

"Come on now, you know that's not my name." His smile creased his face and wrinkled his scars a little and his held out his hand to you. Warily, you took his hand and allowed him to pull you up. Should you trust him? He was a murderer.... but he was your friend.....

"Long time no see, huh?" He chuckled a little bit. Was this a fucking normal meeting for him. Is he making a guxking joke out of this.... after he abandoned you all those years ago, just to become some low life thug who murders people. INNOCENT PEOPLE.

"What the fuck? Is this funny to you? You think this is funny? Laughing when you left me all those years ago. Laughing when you become this.... a- a... A monster, a freak who murderers out of revenge? Fuck you."

Anger shot through you. You don't care if this gets you killed, either he will do it or you'll do it yourself. He was a monster. A killer. Everything you ever despised in one person. A person you used to love turned into a revenge crazed maniac who kills the innocent.

Surprise flooded his features as you rammed a finger into his chest.

"YOU KILL INNOCENT PEOPLE. YOU HAVE PROBABLY KILLED FUCKING CHILDREN! Who the hell do you think you are coming to see me after what, 5 to 10 years? FUCK I don't even remember anymore because I don't see the point in keeping track of the days I had to live thinking you died! You're a monster...."

Your figure began to crumple, your tough exterior caving in as your pent up emotions broke free from their cage. You collapsed into his arms as he ran a soothing hand down your back. You were so confused.... you were angry yet happy. Sad at what he had become but proud of his strength to fight back...

"Why did you leave me Touya? I c-could of saved you..."

The cool breeze blew against the two of you as Touya continued running soothing strokes down your back. Suprisingly, he was guilty. But he wasn't here to see you upset. He was here to get you, save you, help you. He was here to take you to the LOV, his new family.

"I know I left, but I'm here now. I'm taking you to the League, but I promise they won't hurt you. They are family, you want to change the world right? Fix society? That's our goal too. We have all been hurt one way or another.... but please. Come with me. Let me make up for the time we have missed out on so far, let me be the man you need."

You looked up at him, your eyes sore from crying and nose running. Slowly, you nodded. His warm embrace was welcoming, the first hug you have had in at least 5 years.

"Okay...... but you have to take ms out on a date first." A small goggle escaped your lips as you expected a disgusted face to scrunch his features.

But instead...

"Sure, but we're heading over to the LOV hide out right now sweetheart."

Surprise filled your features as be smiled again, his smile just like his old self.

....

Maybe the new Touya wasn't that bad... maybe the old Touya never left...

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

Never wrote for Dabi before so I hope this is good enough!!! Sorry if it took a while to write, I've had a few mental health things pop up within the last 2 days but I'm going to be okay <33. Let me know if this is what you wanted 💞💞

[codename-adler]

Dear Tumblr toxicity,

Hi. Adler here. We need to talk.

- TW: mental health issues, depression, bipolar disorder, self-harm, homophobia, transphobia, coming out, xenophobia, islamophobia, racism, implied sexual content, rape, non-con, addictions, abuse, parental negligence, depictions of violence, swearing (please message me kindly if I forget anything)

- What prompted this message: The release of Skam France S7 teaser (emphasis on teaser, will get into that below)

- Where I’m coming from: I will talk from the pov of a white, cis and queer 22-years-old woman (she/her); this is the pov that affects my experiences and the opinions I will share below; but my message comes from a place of deep hurt, and love

- What this is about: My goal is to share a recurring experience that has hurt me in order to spread a message of awareness, maturity, peace and love

- Central content: Skam France, Skam Wtfock, and Skam/remakes in general

From now on I will assume people have enough information for me to talk about the topics without explaining every plotline/character. There are plenty of wiki pages to help you out and I will gladly answer any (respectful) questions asked if a plothole bothers your comprehension of my message. I’m only making these assumptions in order to alleviate the text.

January 9th, 2021.

The francetv slash YouTube channel releases an unexpected teaser video for an equally unexpected seventh season Skam France. The video features Tiffany, a white, cis female teenager, going into labour from denial pregnancy just after winning what appears to be a gymnastics championship. Overall, the video and its release are very dramatic.

The character of Tiffany, also called Tiff, was previously seen on season 6 of Skam France as a bully who persecuted the main character, Lola, both at school and on social media. Outside of this characterization, nothing is known about her. It is majorly accepted that Tiff is not a liked character; she rather poses as one of the antagonists of Lola’s arc.

Now you know the details of what happened, in the most objectively possible way. 

Now I’ll speak for myself.

Before I went digging around for people’s reaction, here is what I initially thought of this video.

1) Shock: I thought Skam France was over, so... Big, big shock.

2) Excitement: I hold this web series very close to my heart. It has gotten me through depressive episodes, anxiety attacks, coming out to my best friend. To see this new development? It couldn’t bring me more joy.

3) Curiosity: I recognized Tiff immediately. I was intrigued as to what would happen to her to set off a new season in true Skam Fr fashion. As soon as she started gripping her stomach, I knew she was pregnant and wasn’t aware of it. Big, big surprise here again.

4) Numbness/Overthinking: As I stared at my screen, motionless, my mind went off. What did it mean? How did she not know? Who is the father? Do we know him? Will the baby survive? Where are the other characters? Will Lamifex be present? What? How? When? Why? Who?

5) Disappointment: No, I did not like Tiff one bit in S6. Yes, I sincerely wished for a season on either Jo (ambiguous and funny teenage girl, cis + white), Sekou (seemingly neurodivergent teenage boy, cis + black), and my favorite, Max (mysterious and grave teenage boy, trans + white) So why Tiff? It felt to me like a missed opportunity, but I did not lose hope.

So, these were the five stages of my emotional process. And then I made the terrible mistake to go look for the fans’ reaction. I didn’t even look at the YT comments, I didn’t go on Instagram, I went directly here on Tumblr. Why? I’m still asking myself that. From S1 to S6 of Skam Fr, I kept my love for the show to myself and only looked at ig and video edits. I tried once, and only once, to look it up on Tumblr, and was greeted by fervent agressivity, disrespect and hate. Why did I ever forget that after watching the S7 teaser? I still don’t know.

The reactions on this platform were wild. People are furious (I get that). People are disappointed (I get that). People are anxious (I get that). People are also verbally agressive, insensitive, hateful, disrespectful and bullies. I don’t get that.

Comments along the lines of “What she gonna do with a fucking baby?”, “Are we gonna watch the baby do nothing all fucking season?”, “Wowwww, teenage pregnancy, so new and relatable!” (note the sarcasm made in the comment here), “Who gives a shit about Tiff?”, etc. 

And then all the mistakes Skam Fr ever made flooded back onto the feed. The wlw misrepresentation, the whitewashing, the overdramatization, the dubious sex scenes between minors, all of it.

Let’s take a break here. Do I condone these mistakes? Nope. Am I a white-bully apologist? Nope. Did I forget every horrible action Tiff has made in the past? Nope. She manipulated a whole school against Lola, she profited from Lola’s mother’s death, she bullied her, harrassed her, pushed her deeper into mental distress. Tiff was a despicable character that I never once liked. The way she was played by the actress made it clear that Tiff was not intended to be a good guy. If I could replace her as the main of S7, I would, in a heartbeat. I’d choose, as I said, Jo, Sekou or Max.

Skam France deeply lacks diversity and made mistakes when attempting to diverse the issues represented. This is not an opinion, it’s a fact. 

Poc representation is very, very low. Only one season has a woc of Islam beliefs as mc (Imane, S4) with poc entourage/family. Only 2 other characters not related to Imane were poc (Sekou and Sarah, S1-S2). These 2 characters were very in the background and served to further the mc’s plotline, they had no real content. (I am not a poc, and so my opinion does not matter here. If you are not poc, your “opinions” don’t matter here, this point is not for you to debate. These are facts.)

While I do not particularly find the wlw representation bad, I do understand how it hurts/bothers other queer women. From my perspective, the bar was very low regarding my expectations of the Lola/Maya pair (none of them died *yay* they had a happy ending *yay* they were not typically overfeminized or overmasculinized *yay* Lola  and Maya were respectful of each other, understood each other, accepted each other with all their flaws and their beauty *yay* I truly believed in their love and it gave me confidence and hope *yay* I ould really go on but this is not my main point so I’ll stop here) Regardless of my opinion on Mayla, I understand that to some queer women, it was bothering/hurtful. (If you are anything other than a woman / wlw, this point is not for you to debate. Keep your “opinions” to yourself, it does not matter here. These are facts.)

Like every remake of the original Skam where the S4 was given to Sana/Imane, the Muslim community was not represented at its best, at its most beautiful and respectfully. The character of Imane, although she is my favorite girl of the series, was not portrayed in a way that respected the majority of the Muslim community. (If you are anything other than Muslim, this point is not for you to debate. Our opinions do not matter here. These are facts.)

And so the same goes for the portrayal of sexual assault and child pronography in S2, of mental illness and homophobia in S3, of disabilities in S5, of addiction, transphobia, self-harm and neurodivergence in S6. Again, if you are not part of these communities, your opinions do not matter on these issues. These are facts that are not up for debate.

In other words, Skam France, as well as the original Skam, Skam Wtfock, Skam España, and probably all the others I haven’t watched in their entirety, are NOT perfect shows. They (maybe) tried their best to portray issues of the younger generations that are ugly, shameful, taboo, hard-to-swallow-pills. Of course they made mistakes. Of course they have to be held accountable. Of course they can and should do better. Of course it must be spoken about.

Here is my problem.

The so-called “fans” shamelessly SHITTING on the WHOLE show because of ONE TEASER TRAILER. (btw, this is where I get angry)

I am not talking about the fans making fun of the show and this season’s premise like “Better MCs than Tiff for S7: a romance between the car that almost hit Lucas S3 and the car that hit Arthur S5, or the school’s nurse, or Imane’s dad, or Elu’s rabbit” (that shit’s funny and I’d watch all of these).Or the joke about Wtfock and Skam Fr shaking hands while signing the same contract to disappoint the fans with white MCs (it’s funny cuz it’s trueeeee).

I am not talking about the fans criticizing the producers’ choice of Tiff as MC. There is a difference between shitting on issues and adressing/discussing them. I WANT to talk about how this season’s issue would have been so much better if a woc, specifically a black woman, had been the MC, because black women and doctors are a whole different level of issue than white women and doctors. Add on top of that an unplanned teenage pregnancy? It would have been IMMACULATE. I WANT to talk which wlw couple was better represented, Mayla or Croana/Crisana, and why is that. I WANT to talk about disabilities in black and poc communities. I WANT to talk about headcanons, AUs, to rectify the missed marks. I WANT to talk about our takes on seasons about Max, Sekou and Jo, instead of Tiff’s.

I DO NOT WANT TO TALK ABOUT YOUR SHITTY, NEGATIVE, UNHELPFUL, HURTFUL COMMENTS.

Just because the protagonist is white, doesn’t give you ANY right to dismiss the issue that is unplanned teenage pregnancy. This is a problem that affects countries WORLDWIDE. Do you know how many deaths are related to minors giving birth? Do you know how many babies die at birth from these pregnancies? Do you have any idea the trauma it puts you through, to go into labor without even knowing you were pregnant in the first place, and then giving birth, and then having to care for a defensless human being? The dilemma of keeping it, or giving it away? The fear that lives in every person able to give birth, that one day they’ll become pregnant, because society turns sych a shameful look to that? No matter your ethnicity, your gender identity, your sexuality, your political stance or whatever shit you bring up to justify your disgraceful and downright degrading comments, YOU HAVE NO RIGHT TO SAY THAT A MINOR GIVING BIRTH IS NOT AN ISSUE. 

You think the topic has been covered plenty before? Yeah, because shows like “16 and pregnant” and “I Didn’t Know I Was Pregnant!” are such good examples and show the reality with such an objective point of view! 

Bullshit. Teenage pregnancy is still a taboo, it still kills, and people are still morons about it. 

“Well I guess everybody is secretly pregnant now!” No, Jessica, but you wouldn’t know about it, would you? Because I wouldn’t tell you shit if you were my “friend” and I was going through it. The whole message of all the Skams is not that it presents super relatable issues of teenagers, although it is a big topic of the show. They present some issues that affect the youth in an authentic light, but that’s not it.

Tous les gens que tu rencontres mènent un combat dont tu ignores tout. 

Sois indulgente. Toujours. x x x

//

Everyone you meet is fighting a battle you know nothing about.

Be kind. Always. x x x

THAT’S THE MESSAGE. THAT’S THE WHOLE POINT OF THE SHOW.

And you all missed it.

All of you making dead baby jokes and death threats, degrading people who give birth, shaming teenagers for their pregnancies... Listen to yourselves.

“Well she deserves it, she was such a bitch!” No, Michael, you shit stick. Let’s rewind a bit for you, yeah? It was a GOD DAMN TEASER. We literally know nothing! Nothing at all! Why are y’all getting mad when we saw 3:25 minutes representing a whole ass season! Listen to yourselves. Y’all judge so fast for people pretending to love Skam and its authenticity and its motto.

You say Tiff is irredeemable?

Emma cheated on her boyfriend.

Manon lied and manipulated her friends.

Lucas was homophobic and prejudiced agaisnt mentally ill people.

Imane was homophobic too and went behind her friends’ back to get what she wanted.

Arthur cheated on his girlfriend too.

Lola dragged Elliot down with her in her addiction, lied, was verbally abusive, etc.

ALL THE MAINS ARE PROBLEMATIC.

Any guess why?

BECAUSE THEY ARE TEENAGERS. THEY ARE STILL GROWING AND LEARNING.

Yet we still loved them all. 

So don’t you dare tell me that Tiff deserves this, that her baby deserves to die, that teenage motherhood is irrelevant. Motherhood is not a curse in the first place, nor is it something to wish to inflict upon anyone. Motherhood is different for every single person and nobody except the person living with it can have an opinion on that. We don’t even know if the baby survived, for God’s sake!

There is no excuse for this kind of behavior..

It makes me so angry. Women are discriminated against in a fandom I thought was safe, again and again and again. 

I have to stop here because, well, this is just too much. There is much wrong with Skam (the original AND all the remakes), but there is even more wrong with the fans. I’m done.

You don’t support the show anymore? Fine, then don’t watch it! If I really am wrong, the number of viewers will go down and the show will die, just like you wished. There is no need to be vicious about it. 

I hope y’all are proud of your misogyny. 

Sincerely,

Adler.

[martellthemandalor]

Happy Deathday

Pairing: Max Phillips x f!reader

Warnings: Language, suggestion of biting 

Rating: T (teen)

Word count: 1.9K+

A/N: This is a small fic for anyone celebrating their birthday! I hope you enjoy this little treat with our favourite vampire sales manager. also no editing because i finished this at 3am lmaoo. 

Masterlist!

GIF IS NOT MY OWN. CREDIT TO THE OWNER.

“Happy birthday to you!”

The off-key drone of your co-workers voices finished with an enthusiastic round of applause. You smile up at the gaggle of them, leaning forward to blow out the singular candle protruding from the cake being presented to you.  

“Thank you everyone, please help yourself to a slice before you leave. Lord knows I won’t be able to finish it by myself,” You joked, gesturing to the sizeable cake that rested in the hands of your boss. He chuckled at you, setting the cake down and producing a knife to section it with.

You got to packing away your days’ work right away, your colleagues flocking to the sweet treat being offered freely on the adjacent desk.

A cold hand on your shoulder caused you to jump. Your mouth twisted into a small smile as you swivelled to find yourself met with the dark eyes of your manager.

“(Y/N) I need to see you in my office,” He instructed, that damn infuriating smirk playing across his face.

“Come on Boss, it’s her birthday let her go have fun,” Tim protested through a mouthful of cake. You grinned at him, rolling your eyes as you saw him reach for another slice.

“Thank you for your concern Tim, I would almost be grateful if it wasn’t a clear ploy to get more of my cake,” You accused playfully. “Of course boss, I’ll be right with you.”

Max gave your shoulder a squeeze, shooting you a wink as he sauntered back to his office.

“You really shouldn’t let him keep you late, this is literally the one day a year you can break the rules,” Tim mumbled at you, biting off another chunk of cake.

“Tim, I really don’t think that’s true,” You laughed, “But if it makes you feel any better, my plans don’t start until later, I kind of guessed Max would be enough of an asshole to keep me back after work,” You slung your bag over your shoulder and made your way over to Max’s office. Glancing over your shoulder you saw Tim trying to sneak another slice cake.

“Hey Tim, just take the whole thing okay? I’ve got another one coming later,” You called to him.

Tim’s eyes lit up, nabbing the cake off the desk and all but sprinting out of the door. You really did work with some… interesting characters to say the least. It certainly made every day a different experience, especially with the changes that had been happening around the office recently.

You softly rapped on the solid wood of the door, and upon hearing the muffled “Yep!” from the other side swiftly entered.

Max was leant back on his chair, legs propped up on his desk. His eyes raked over your figure as you shut the door behind you. You turned to face him, bracing your back against the smooth wood.

“You never learnt the art of subtlety did you?” You asked him, arching your eyebrow at your undead boyfriend.

“Absolutely not sweetheart, sales don’t come from subtlety,” He claimed, swinging his feet off the desk and beckoning you to come sit on his lap. You rolled your eyes at him, an involuntary action you found yourself doing twice as much since beginning your relationship with him.

“People are going to find out about this if you don’t tone it down,” You said nonchalantly, wandering slowly towards the desk, your eyes locked on his.

“You say that as if it’s a bad thing,” Max retorted, dramatically rolling his eyes in direct parody of you. “Besides babe, I just know you love it.” He punctuated his point with a wink.

God you wanted to slap him sometimes.

“And… how do you know that?” You asked. Your fingertips trailed across the polished oak of the desk, dancing around the various pencil pots and other knick-knacks he had spread across the surface. Another part of his game with the team, every time he turned someone new, suddenly a new item turned up on his desk.

Max had told you it was a motivation tactic, because of course it was. He said that people don’t like being reduced to objects, explaining that by adding an item, a trophy, each time someone was turned reduced them to just that. By doing this, and drawing attention to it through meetings and whatnot, the non-turned would work twice as hard in order to stay that way, to not be reduced to an object. He may be a smug bastard, but you couldn’t say he wasn’t a clever one.

You slid across the front of the desk, gave Max the smuggest smile you could muster, then hopped up onto the edge opposite him. A blatant shun to his previous invitation. This was another game he liked to play with you, the cat and mouse of it all, and you were more than happy to fill your role.

“Because,” he said, leaning forward in that ridiculous chair and dropping his voice lower. “I could hear your heart beat faster.”

Yeah, he got you there. Damn his upper hand.  You tried to keep a straight face as the cogs in mind whirred furiously to come up with a smartass retort. It quickly became impossible to do so though, you knew Max could see right through your struggle as he slowly inched his chair closer to you. You fought back your smile, but lost the struggle with an infectious laugh as his face contorted into a smug duck face.

“Gotcha,” he proclaimed triumphantly. In one swift move he lifted you from the desk and into his lap, his strength meaning you weighed nothing as he pulled you close to him, causing a slight squeal to escape you. It sent a thrill through you whenever he displayed his strength like that, the way he strong armed you around a complete juxtaposition to the feather light way he handled you while doing it.

You wrapped your arms around his neck as you settled into his lap, his own hands resting comfortably around your waist. He cocked his eyebrow at you, his copyright smirk playing across his lips as he waited for you to make the move.

You smoothed your hands across the back of his neck, over his shoulders and traced your fingers across the rigid lapels of his suit. Then you grabbed onto the lapels and tugged him towards your mouth, leading him into a surprisingly gentle kiss.

His cool lips instinctively moved against your own, hand coming up to cup your jaw as he dragged his tongue across your bottom lip. Opening your mouth you let him slip his tongue in, his gentle taste of mint flooding your senses. You smiled against him when you broke for breath.

He dragged his lips across your jaw, trailing kisses down your neck.

“Happy birthday baby,” He murmured against the warmth of your skin.

“Thank you babe,” You responded, tugging lightly on his hair to pull him from you. You both looked at each other for a minute, his eyes darting over your features, as if trying to memorise you.

The silence was thick and comfortable, but as was normal with Max the quiet didn’t last long.

“Are you sure you want to do this sweetheart?” Max asked. He brushed his thumb softly across your cheekbone, his other hand coming up to caress down your neck. The tenderness of his touch made your heart jump at your ribs. You slid your hands up his arms, resting them at his wrists.

“I’m more than sure Max, we’ve talked about this, I want this,” You reassured him.

“But-” You quickly placed a finger over his lips. For a man so hell bent on turning every other warm body in the office for the sake of efficiency, he was being surprisingly apprehensive with you.

“Max. Look at me. I love you. I want this with you. There’s no one else I can possibly imagine being with, and I- fuck- I want to be turned by you so I can live with you as we are, forever. Okay?” You stressed. Max took your hands in his and brought them to his lips, peppering kisses along each of your knuckles.

“I love you to baby, so much,” He said gently. He leant in and pressed a series of chaste kisses to your lips. Then it was like a switch flipped in his head and suddenly your suave, almost douchebag of a boyfriend was back again. “Come on then sweetheart,” He announced, a tap on your thigh giving you the hint to stand up. You smiled as you dismounted him, heading for the door.

He got up and shot to the door before you could get close, opening it for you. He landed a playful swat on your ass as you crossed the open threshold, his voice following not long after.

“Let’s get you home and turned to the sexiest vamp in the office, rivalled only by me of course”

-

Entering your apartment was like entering a different world. Max had disappeared on his lunch break and where initially you were confused as to what he could have got up to for the full hour, it was now crystal clear.

He had come back to yours and cleaned the place from head to toe. He had also layed out candles and ruby red rose petals across the floor of the hall, which he was currently, and rather frantically, lighting as you hung up your coat.

Your living room had undergone the same treatment, with the addition of a bottle of red wine, a new wine glass set, a box of fancy chocolates and a small, very neatly wrapped, present sitting pretty in the middle of your coffee table.

“Max you- you didn’t have to do all this,” You exclaimed to your boyfriend, who had now settled himself on the sofa. He patted the space next to him, which you eagerly occupied.

“Of course I did, it’s your birthday and you deserve something extra special,” He responded, hand waving off your concerns.

He then leant forward and took the present from the table, placing it into your waiting hands. Snuggling into him, you began to carefully unwrap the present. The paper fell away to show a black velvet box, opening which caused you to gasp loudly.

Inside was a ring, a beautiful woven band of silver with a small diamond set with precision in the middle.

“Will you marry me?”

The words were murmured next to your ear, soft and laced with anxiety. Your stomach did a somersault for him, your beautiful, self-assured dumbass was really afraid that you would turn him down.

You twisted in his embrace, softly kissing him before whispering “Yes,” against his lips. His answering smile was one you were never going to forget, so full of joy and love, and all for you. Only for you.

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes as Max gently took the ring box from you. 

He took the ring from the box and slid it onto your ring finger, sealing the placement with a kiss.

The rest of the evening flew by. Between the glasses of red, feeding each other chocolate and laughing, it felt like time had turned to liquid around you. Max was running his fingers through your hair, his gaze fixated on your neck.

It was time.

“Ready sweetheart?” He simply asked, as if you weren’t about to give up your rhythmic heartbeat for him. The anticipation was making your heart race and you wondered if you would ever miss the feeling of it hammering in your ribs.

“Yes Max, ready as I’ll ever be,” You affirmed, your hand seeking his own and instinctively locking with it.

You skin felt alight, burning hot when you felt the smooth curve of his fangs brush against your neck.

“Happy deathday baby.”

[melissart]

Say One Thing, Mean Another (Kaidou Shun/Saiki Kusuo)

Summary: 

Reading thoughts and reading feelings were two completely different abilities. Most people had a monologue always running in their heads, conveniently narrating their every experience. Call it spotlight effect, call it middle school syndrome, call it romanticization—whatever you called it, Saiki would know, because he could simply read your mind. But some desires were so unconscious that even Saiki couldn’t read them.

No one was more repressed than the self-deluded cram school mama’s boy: Kaidou Shun.

AO3 link: 

https://archiveofourown.org/works/28999770

Read below 

Reading thoughts and reading feelings were two completely different abilities. Most people had a monologue always running in their heads, conveniently narrating their every experience. Call it spotlight effect, call it middle school syndrome, call it romanticization—whatever you called it, Saiki would know, because he could simply read your mind. But some desires were so unconscious that even Saiki couldn’t read them. 

No one was more repressed than the self-deluded cram school mama’s boy: Kaidou Shun. Kaidou thought “first base” was holding hands, and even that thought reduced him into a blushing, stuttering, face-hiding mess. He couldn’t even access objective reality half the time, much less access his deepest feelings. Saiki couldn’t even imagine how Kaidou might handle such overwhelming emotions, given how easily at the slightest of confrontations. He once saw Kaidou cry at a convenience store because he couldn’t decide between two compelling brands of instant noodles (Best around or best in town? Around? In town? Around? In town? Aroundintownaroundintownaroundintown...) Needless to say, Kaidou was the most likely candidate to be hiding a dark secret. 

None of that Dark Reunion fantasy bullshit. Saiki meant a real dark secret, the kind of revelation that could make a mute man gasp. Just because Kaidou cried when someone tried to tell him a “yo mama” joke doesn’t mean he can’t hide his feelings when it mattered the most. Growing up with a strict mother ruined his values for honesty. Kaidou’s lying was almost on a pathological level, with boundless creativity that showed in the character sheet journals hidden under his bed. He was sometimes so good he fooled himself, but glimmers of the truth shone through in unexpected moments. 

It started with a fit of laughter in their lunchtime group. Nendou swore he could handle chopsticks up his nose with enough dexterity to pick up a cherry tomato. Admittedly, he almost succeeded, but Aren flinched away in disgust because he didn’t want to have his lunch contaminated by Nendou’s nose-chopsticks, and the sudden movement accidentally led to Aren’s elbow shoving one of Nendou’s nose-chopsticks too far up, which then caused a ridiculous-looking nosebleed down the chopsticks and into Nendou’s rice. 

Saiki’s first thought was ew, but then he caught a quick glance from Kaidou while he was bursting into tears laughing, and suddenly, he couldn’t stop himself from exercising the stiff muscles around his lips into a smile. Kaidou was checking if Saiki thought it was funny, too, as if he needed permission to continue laughing. Saiki didn’t care about pride and certainly didn’t prescribe to any notions of toxic masculinity, but the thought of being the alpha male with Kaidou gave him a good feeling. A feeling that just felt… good. 

Saiki still couldn’t read feelings well, not even his own, but he had a strong sense for logic. Kaidou was smaller, weaker, with a kind of reckless yet innocent boyish charm that made him hard to look away from at times. Anyone’s instincts would tell them that Kaidou must be protected at all costs and Saiki, with all of his godlike abilities, was obviously the most qualified person to protect him. 

Again, Saiki was bad with unconscious desires. He found himself following that instinct to protect Kaidou in the smallest of moments. Although Saiki protected all of his friends (and humanity) from danger, even Nendou started noticing Saiki’s special treatment of Kaidou. 

“Th-Th-The hellfire th-that the Dark Reunion has c-c-cursed me with a-a-always keeps me w-warm,” Kaidou bluffed, on an especially frigid winter day. 

What he meant was that the puffy pink jacket his mom tried to send him to school with was too embarrassing, so he lied and told her the weather was supposed to be warmer later. Honestly, Saiki didn’t even need his clairvoyance to predict that. He immediately shoved the extra coat he brought to school at Kaidou. Kaidou got sick too easily, especially with the long nights he spent studying and the longer nights he spent writing fanfictions. Saiki even pre-heated the coat with his pyrokinesis. 

“E-Eh? That’s for me, Saiki?” In hindsight, Kaidou was a little too eager to accept Saiki’s coat and he must have definitely sniffed it to see if Saiki’s scent was on it while he thought nobody was looking. “Ah, it’s so warm!” All talk of the Dark Reunion was dropped. Kaidou beamed at Saiki brightly. “Thank you, Saiki!” 

The pure look of elation in Kaidou’s crimson eyes as he smiled at Saiki, just Saiki, specifically Saiki, gave him that good feeling again. 

Nendou glanced between the two. “You brought that extra coat just for him?” 

“That’s just because—” Aren started, but then stopped. “Huh. Nendou’s right. That is very considerate of you, Saiki.” 

Saiki didn’t usually slip up and cause himself unnecessary attention, but he brushed it off and convinced himself he was only acting in self-interest. Seriously, it would be a pain if he had to put up with Kaidou calling him in the middle of the night to complain about his symptoms. Kaidou always called him at odd hours of the night, usually to spew some cryptic warnings about lurking enemies, and every time, Saiki delayed his sweet REM cycle just to placate him. It made no sense to call a mute man. (But it made even less sense that Saiki always picked up.)

“Saiki is always reliable,” Kaidou argued. “That’s why, when the Dark Reunion strikes back—” 

Then, Kaidou proceeded to plagiarize the plot of the Star Wars episode “The Empire Strikes Back”. Saiki was too busy watching the self-insert adventure inside Kaidou’s mind to question the extent of his admiration of Saiki. Out of everyone, Kaidou’s thoughts were the most interesting to read. Kaidou’s imagination came in full technicolor, with exciting camera angles and cinematography professional enough to be entered in film festivals. When there was nothing good on TV, Saiki sometimes tuned into Kaidou’s thoughts for entertainment. Kaidou managed to distract everyone else from Saiki’s strange favor, too. 

Saiki should have realized earlier how powerful Kaidou’s redirection was, effective enough to rival Chouno’s magic tricks. Kaidou was easy to underestimate, but the sheer amount of lies he told on a daily basis was proof of his true manipulative nature. 

No, “manipulative” was overshooting it. Kaidou was just conditioned by his social anxiety to lie in everyday situations to preserve his self-image. Saiki knew that struggle better than anyone else, just in the opposite direction: dedicating his life to feigning normalcy. Yet, even though Saiki was the one who regularly erased memories, time traveled, and rewrote reality to maintain the status quo, Kaidou was still the one who went overboard in comparison. 

Saiki and Kaidou were walking home together one day, just the two of them, because Aren usually took another way home and Nendou had baseball practice. Kaidou was filling Saiki in about the latest addition to the Dark Reunion saga, complete with a mini movie in his mind to accompany his narration: Kaidou had tamed a wild beast that was terrorizing a small village, which later warmed up enough to become his consort, but the beast had been mind-controlled by the Dark Reunion the entire time as a spy to figure out Kaidou’s whereabouts, which then led to Kaidou breaking the beast free from its mind control using his own forbidden knowledge of the dark arts and returning the beast into the wild. 

In reality, the “beast” was a chihuahua that was bothering a kid, but then started following Kaidou home. Kaidou wanted to keep the chihuahua, but his mother said no, because the chihuahua probably belonged to someone else, even though it had no collar. He had to kick the chihuahua out of his house in hopes that the small dog would eventually find its way home. Saiki was sure the entire mind control fabrication was some type of coping mechanism to help Kaidou feel less guilty about kicking the dog out onto the cold streets. 

Then, Kaidou’s knuckles accidentally brushed against Saiki’s and Kaidou’s internal alarm rang loudly in both of their minds: 

Wrong! Bad! Stupid! Just ignore it, just ignore it, just ignore it!

Kaidou was screaming so loudly in his mind that Saiki instinctively covered his ears, even though there was no external sound to cover his ears from. All of Kaidou’s thoughts had instantaneously spiralled into a frenzy of self-loathing, overwhelming to the point that Saiki couldn’t even decipher what exactly Kaidou was ashamed of. The situation caught him so off-guard that he ended up doing what any normal non-psychic person would do—he asked Kaidou what was wrong. With telepathy, of course. It was easy to get away with using telepathy for conversation since Kaidou was too ashamed to look at Saiki at that moment. 

“N-Nothing’s wrong!” Kaidou’s blushing face said otherwise and he knew it. He suddenly stopped in his tracks. “No… I can’t lie to you any longer, Saiki. You deserve better than that. The truth is—” 

And then Kaidou told another lie, this time centering around a growing imbalance between light and dark forces of the universe that, according to an ancient prophecy, only Kaidou could heal with the great power sealed away in his right hand that he still had yet to fully control. He went into full detail about the brutal training he endured, the battles of wit against his enemies, the secrets he had to keep from his loved ones to protect them from evil—all of which ironically described Saiki’s life more than Kaidou’s—and how lonely it was carrying such burdens, as heavy as the world on Atlas’ shoulders. The vivid montage played in Kaidou’s mind, returning his mental space to its usual deluded state. As usual, Kaidou went overboard with preserving his self-image. 

Good grief…

Saiki kept walking and Kaidou had to run to catch up and everything was back to its usual rhythm, with Kaidou’s behavior matching his thoughts again. That was another weakness of Saiki’s. He was so insistent on keeping his boring life boring that he overlooked something important. 

Kaidou never actually admitted what was bothering him. 

Daniel Kahneman said, “When faced with a difficult question, we often answer an easier one instead, usually without noticing the substitution.” Saiki asked Kaidou, “What’s wrong?” but accepted the answer to “What’s your made-up hero’s burden?” without noticing the substitution. Saiki wanted to protect Kaidou, but he couldn’t cross any boundaries. What if Kaidou was put off by Saiki’s insistence and gossiped about how pushy Saiki was? What if Kaidou took it the wrong way and it caused a falling out between them? What if Kaidou just started crying and all the passersby assumed Saiki had just said something awful to his own friend? There were too many risks. If Kaidou refused to think about what was bothering him, then Saiki just wouldn’t know. 

It was better that way. Kaidou had a right to his privacy, which was limited enough by Saiki’s mind reading. Saiki didn’t have a right to any of it—Kaido’s thoughts, Kaido’s secrets, and especially Kaido’s friendship. He was sure Kaido would’ve been better off without a killjoy mute friend that constantly invaded the personal thoughts of everyone around him. The less they knew about each other’s lives, the easier life would be. It was a simple formula that guaranteed success. 

If only life were actually that simple. The only law Saiki’s universe followed was Murphy’s Law. 

Kaidou’s screaming thoughts started coming more frequently and it was always Saiki that set it off. When their eyes met from across the cafeteria, when they were the last ones awake during a late night group study session, when they reached for the same cafeteria item at the same time—screaming. Kaidou was getting better at not letting it show on the outside, but that only made the self-loathing episodes louder and longer. And still, even with psychic powers, Saiki had no idea why exactly Kaidou was in so much anguish when he was near. All he knew was that it was getting worse. 

Saiki was a psychic, not a psychologist. He had to use his logic for situations like this. Kaidou felt awful around him and Saiki didn’t want Kaidou to feel awful, so obviously Saiki just had to avoid Kaidou to resolve the issue. 

So, he did. He didn’t want to. He wanted to share an umbrella with Kaidou when he left his at home on purpose to avoid being made fun of for using his mom’s frilly, pinky parasol with roses, he wanted to answer Kaidou’s phone calls at 2 AM to comfort him after his recurring nightmare of drowning in the ocean, he wanted to proofread Kaidou’s fanfiction for any grammar or plot holes, he wanted to part the clouds and let the golden sunshine follow Kaidou’s every step so he never had to complain about gloomy days, he wanted to be there for Kaidou—of course he did! He didn’t know why, and he didn’t care to know why, because he just did and couldn’t because the most important thing he had to do was to protect Kaidou. He would gladly transfer schools to Siberia if it meant Kaidou could be happy and that’s all that mattered. 

Of course, things never went Saiki’s way for too long. Kaidou came ringing at his front gate not too long after Saiki started avoiding him. Mikoto would say it’s all a balancing act, making up for Saiki’s intervention by having it all come back to bite him in the butt—strangely reminiscent of what Kaidou previously mentioned about the imbalance of light and dark. It made Saiki wonder if there had always been grains of truth in the lies. 

He let Kaidou in and led him to his room. Even now, he could hear the tumultuous chaos in Kaidou’s mind. 

I shouldn’t be here! This is stupid! I’m so awful! 

Saiki internally sighed. Why are you here, then? Good grief. 

Saiki sat on his bed and waited for Kaidou to conjure up whatever nonsense he thought could justify his visit. He was already used to people’s actions not aligning with their thoughts. This was no different. 

I should tell him, already. 

Instead, Kaidou became fixated on the first distraction that caught his eyes. “Geez! It’s so dark in here, Saiki! You’ll get vitamin D deficiency if you just spend all day in the dark, you know.” He opened the blinds. 

I need to stop stalling and tell him, already. 

Opening the blinds ended up spreading dust everywhere. Kaidou sneezed. “When was the last time you cleaned, Saiki? It’s so dusty!” 

Why am I stalling even more! I really need to get it over with and tell him that… Or maybe it’s better not to tell him? 

The suspense was killing Saiki. He knew he wasn’t entitled to Kaidou’s thoughts, but he was so used to knowing everything about everyone that he couldn’t handle the suspense anymore. Why couldn’t Kaidou trust the safety of his own mind to directly think about what he wanted to say? It made no sense! Nothing made sense, anymore! Good grief, tell me WHAT? 

“What?” 

Oops. Saiki accidentally sent that thought telepathically in frustration. 

Tell me what your day was like, I mean. 

“Oh. Um…” Kaidou sat down next to Saiki. But not too close. “Nothing really happened, actually.” 

That’s a first. 

“Can I tell you a story, though?” 

Saiki hoped it wasn’t another plagiarized episode of Star Wars. Go ahead. 

“So, I have this friend, with a problem…” 

Saiki wondered why Kaidou wouldn’t refer to the friend by name, given they had the exact same circle of friends, but Kaidou was too busy admiring the particles of dust glimmering in the rectangles of sunlight filtering through the blinds. He compared the dust particles to the yellow glow of fireflies dancing in a forest, then to the twinkling stars against violet-blue cosmos, then to the grains of sand slipping through an hourglass. He thought of the various colored pieces that made up the image in stained glass windows and the tiny paint dots in Impressionist paintings and the fact that everything was just a collection of the same subatomic particles under a powerful enough microscope. He felt small. Too small to say what he means. 

“... This friend is scared all the time. Maybe he’s just used to being scared because his mom always yells at him for the slightest of mistakes and has high expectations he can never reach. He doesn’t know, and neither do I, but that fear keeps leaking into everything he does. Like an inky black stain, blotting out everything until there’s nothing left. There’s just—so much ink.” 

Kaidou’s fists are clenched at his sides. Saiki knew this story about Kaidou’s friend must pain him to tell, but still, Kaidou’s thoughts betrayed nothing. Kaidou was thinking of how much warmer the room was with the sunlight pouring in. He thought of temperature like mercury, pouring into the room through a crack in the window, silvery-white liquid with shiny ripples that poisoned everything in contact, suffocating them in metallic vapors. 

“But, when this friend is around a certain friend, he feels like everything is bright again. It’s such a precarious feeling though, because getting closer to that brightness also puts the ink closer. It makes him think that him and the ink are the same and that anything good he touches will only get stained.” 

Kaidou blinked away wetness on his lashes. He briefly acknowledged the dull ache of his heart wrenching, but only as a passing thought as he reminisced at the last time he was alone with Saiki in his room, which was after a festival, then went on to recall the fireworks. Crimson bursts of chrysanthemums popped into the night sky, golden sparkles crackling below, then streams of white and orange whistled. The smell of gunpowder and sulfur mixed in with the aroma of fried food from the concessions. 

He remembered how loud the fireworks were, deep booms that resonated into his chest, louder than the pounding of his heart as he stole a glance at Saiki. He loved watching the different colors of light flash onto Saiki’s expression, a rare look of serenity, but the moment was too brief. Saiki could always tell when he was being looked at, even from far away, almost as if he were actually psychic, and every time, Saiki would look him right in the eyes and smile like he knew exactly what Kaidou was thinking, then purposefully look away again so Kaidou could resume staring in peace. That was the beautiful brightness Kaidou was enchanted by. 

Saiki was used to seeing a glamorized distortion of himself in the mind’s eye of people who had a crush on him, complete with shoujo sparkles and iridescent bubbles and blooming roses in the background, but Kaidou’s perspective was unfiltered. Kaidou saw Saiki exactly the way he existed in his life and that was already enough to make his heart skip a beat, no romanticized fantasies needed. 

“My friend’s problem is that he’s selfish. He wants to be with that precious friend, who makes everything fade to white. He wants to ruin everything, just for those few milliseconds of happiness. I guess, what I want to say is…” 

Kaidou’s thoughts suddenly went silent. Saiki wondered if he had lost his powers, somehow. The usual background noise of every thought within a 200 meter radius was hushed, as if he had just slipped on his geranium ring. All he could hear was the rustle of fabric bunching up in Kaidou’s fists and his own pounding heart. 

“What I mean is—do you think it’s worth it? Should he ruin that friendship?” 

Saiki understood everything, now. 

Is he scared?

“Always.” 

Then, I don’t think he should. 

“You’re right...” 

Saiki’s hand brushed against Kaidou’s, except this time, it was on purpose. He clasped his hand over Kaidou’s. 

I’ll ruin it for him. 

Saiki brushed a tear away from Kaidou’s cheek. He couldn’t stop himself from smiling fondly. He usually avoided prolonged eye contact at all times so he could get away with telepathic conversation, but Kaidou had always been hard to look away from. That was a cute expression he had on his face, right now—warmed by a blush, with those shining red eyes peering up at Saiki under his long lashes. 

Saiki met his lips with Kaidou’s, fingers interlaced. It was just a gentle first kiss—sweeter than coffee jelly, warmer than pyrokinesis, softer than Saiki’s bed. Kaidou melted into the kiss and could only think of how the milliseconds passed like centuries, like he was an immortal witnessing several lifetimes of glory. Their friendship was ruined, but their romance had only started. 

They eventually had to part, for air. Saiki looked straight into Kaidou’s gaze. He couldn’t get out of using his real voice, but he didn’t mind.

“What I mean is... I like you.” 

Of course, Kaidou broke into a sobbing mess right then and there. It didn’t take a psychic to predict that. 

“I like you too, Saiki!” 

[itsclydebitches]

hey, thank you to responding to my asks abt bkg + mido fics!! i really loved your response. tbh you brought up most of the thoughts i had, but there's one that occurred to me after reading your response. imagine for a moment if bkg's bullying had been about literally anything other than quirklessness, which is like. ableism lite. imagine if mido was harassed to the point of sui-baiting for being fat or gay or trans or anything but fantasy ableism. imo, i don' t think we'd have bkg stans anymore.

Of course! 💜

I do wonder if we’d really lose any Bakugo fans though, if the ableism were 100% truthful to real life as opposed to a metaphor. Because it’s a pretty on the nose metaphor. The entire human population is now born with a particular, physical trait and if you fail to develop that trait “normally” — or don’t develop it at all  — then you’re ostracized from society, either subtly (it’s harder for you to get certain jobs) or much more obviously (the school bully gets your whole class to laugh at you). Insert “quirk” for any physical trait in our real lives  — the ability to walk, the ability to hear, the ability to see, etc.  — and it’s a near 1 to 1 comparison in regards to supposedly “lacking” something. Granted, quirks are a bit more complicated in regards to their breadth, but even that can be read as a metaphor for baseline “normalcy.” Inko’s ability to move small objects doesn’t give her a major advantage in life, but its existence ensures that a lack of a quirk never hurts her either, similar to how my build means I don’t really have a shot at the Olympics, but the fact that I have two working legs means I won’t be discriminated against for not being able to walk. 

So there’s a lot of discussion surrounding how well (or not) the story grapples with this metaphor. Whether, for example, it’s a problem that Izuku’s minority status is instantly “fixed” via All Might’s quirk, or whether we should read the passing of this quirk more like an assistive device. That’s a whole other, complicated conversation though. The takeaway for now is that the conversation exists and I think the majority of the fandom is at least somewhat aware of it. Even if we’re not versed in disability rhetoric, we understand the foundational concept of Izuku as an Other who is pitted against the rest of “normal” society. Our very first line of the series is “People... are not born equal” and Bakugo feeds that distinction in the worst way. Some aspects of how BNHA engages with disability may be subtle, but Bakugo absolutely is not. From beating up on Izuku for being a “quirkless wonder [playing] at hero,” to telling him to jump off the roof, Bakugo’s entire character revolves around how he considers himself not just superior for being “normal,” but also extraordinary due to privileges outside of his control. These issues are front and center... yet fans still love him, defend him, etc. I’m not sure the metaphor is hidden enough to assume that if “quirk” were replaced with a real life minority status, that fans would suddenly view Bakugo differently. Just because his flaw is already so incredibly prominent and its meaning already easy to grasp. It’s meant to be that way. 

As always, I want to re-iterate that there’s nothing wrong with liking a character  — they’re a character, they’re fictional, they exist to entertain us  — but in some respects those who really intensely defend Bakugo represent the very issues BNHA is (at times clumsily) trying to address. We wouldn’t have Bakugo stans if he tormented Izuku for being fat, gay, trans, etc.? Sure we would! Because those people already exist. They’re every privileged bully whose friends laugh along with their “jokes.” They’re the young employee who got there thanks to money and family connections, but who we praise for how talented they are. They’re the criminal who has committed the most heinous deeds, but who is let off with a light sentence because it was just a “mistake” and “they have their whole life ahead of them.” Bakugo represents people who already exist across the world and we excuse, justify, or even uphold them all the time. Though (as said) this is complicated by his existence as an enjoyable, fictional character, I still think there’s something significant in the fandom’s knee-jerk desire to defend the non-black, (so far) non-queer, (fantasy) able-bodied, good looking, talented guy with a bit of a sad backstory. We already have a problem of going out of our way to excuse people with those privileges, so why would that change when the person is fictional? The awful truth is that a situation where one kid terrorizes another for not being “normal,” gets away with that for years, has teachers who never step in, gets into a prestigious school despite their behavior, never has their prospects threatened because of how they treat others... that’s common. I personally think we’d still have plenty of Bakugo stans because the act of excusing that kind of behavior is already something that happens in everyday life.  

[sanstropfremir]

please let me join the dance conversation since it's the form of art i am actually the most interested in. i've been dancing as a kid for 6 years, and i don't mean to say that that gave me any type of authority in the domain, but it did leave me with the slight ability to recognize a good performance (or whatever makes a good performance to me, personally) and a great appreciation for valueing dancing as acting, like you said. too often i've seen dance ranking videos from actual life-long dancers who value technical skill above anything else. even if they take into consideration the facial expressions, it doesn't hold much weight and that always lowkey pissed me off. because when i am watching a performance, i care way more about the emotional delivery rather than the technical one. of course, this is not to disregard skill, because emotion without skill just ends up messy. good enough to appreciate as a form of authentic self-expression, but still messy, and mess won't make you a good dancer.

i've really enjoyed seeing you say dancing and acting have a mutual component since i've always felt that way too but never knew how to put it in words. two groups that come in mind when thinking about this are blackpink and itzy, i have no idea how familiar you are with them so i'm sorry if the following come across as foreign to you. but i gotta say, regarding bp, i think there's always been discourse over lisa vs rose as the best dancer. technically, everybody knows lisa is miles ahead, and i have to say she has decent stage presence and some pretty nice facial expressions too (taking into consideration how limited bp's concepts have been so far). rose, on the other hand, has a certain style that appeals to a specific audience (which i am not a part of, her lack of body control is so irritating sometimes) but i can see why some would find her charming. i would say her stage presence is decent too, but i can't help but choose lisa over her, and not just because i'm biased. but because in order to be a true dancer, you need the right balance between technique and emotion that gives your performance that star-value and appeal. and let's be real, kpop is really lacking in that "true dancer" department.

another dancing discourse that goes on is in the itzy fandom, where fans are pitting yeji and chaeryeong against each other. their techniques are quite different but they are each very good in their respective style. now, i've seen people call yeji the better "idol dancer" since she has better developed facial expressions, and chaeryeong the better "overall dancer" since people value her technique more. and i'm just like, no. emotion makes or breaks a dancer. everyone can learn technique, but emotion is hard to fake, and when you do, the non-authenticity is very much obvious.

that's why i love san as a dancer. he might not be the most technically skilled, but he is skilled enough to hold his own. and his way of living in the performance, of just letting every feel of the song wash over him and show the audience 110% and more - nothing compares to that, no amount of technicality. stage presence is something you just have, and no matter how much you train for it, you will pale in comparison to a natural.

wow, this is really long so thank you if you take the time to read it all and respond. english is not my first language and sometimes i'm having trouble finding the right words to get my point across exactly how i think of it in my mind, so i hope the message is delivered accurately, haha :D also, i must add i love the way you talk, your speech has a flow and a uniqueness to it you don't find everyday. and we love a developed vocabulary<3 may i ask how old you are?

thank you for the compliment, thats very sweet of you! english is my native language and i have spent just as much time, if not longer doing academics as i have doing performance work so at this point ive developed a very specific style. there’s a joke that theatre design is 90% communication and only 10% design, and it’s not wrong. it helps that i like to talk and my brain works very fast sometimes.

im glad you took the time to write this out! and don't apologize for your english, it's excellent and very clear. you are correct i know very little about blackpink and itzy but i would likely agree with you, dance is equal parts emotion and technique and that is my preference in idols as well. but i don’t think that the kpop industry needs to have ‘true’ dancers, though. yes it is fun to watch those who are technically and charismatically gifted in dance, it is only a portion of the experience that they market. also i think we lose a bit of objectivity in kpop because all idols are required to dance, but i dont think ive seen one recently that's a legitimately bad dancer. even the ‘worst’ dancers that i can think of are still leagues better than the average person on the street, but we see them as ‘bad’ because they work directly alongside peers who are legitimately gifted and have a passion for dance as a form. 

it's interesting to hear you say that everyone can learn technique but emotion is hard to fake, because i hear a lot of dancers say that. i think this comes from a misunderstanding of what exactly acting is and how it works. i would argue that a statement closer to the sentiment that you (and many others) are trying to get is ‘not everyone can do both at the same time.’ the average person is no more predisposed to acting then they are to dance, because acting is a skill that can be taught and exercised in the same way dance can. sure, there are people that have a higher latent ability, but if you put in the work, you can learn. why do you think there are acting classes and schools and conservatories? you can get a doctorate in acting if you really want to. the thing about acting is that in order to be good at it, you have to both understand and be able to implement the correct postures for mimicking human emotion. this is an insanely complex task when you get down to the brass tacks of it. just think about your face and body posture for a moment. why are you sitting/standing in that particular way? why is your face in that particular expression? what do you think your posture is saying to someone who is observing you? how would you change it if you wanted the person to start a conversation with you? if you wanted them to leave you alone? 

there’s also a general assumption that acting comes from a place of genuine or authentic emotion, and this is the fault of modern ‘method’ film acting. i have a very long thesis about how much i hate method acting and i can make a separate post about that if people are curious. but suffice to say, acting very rarely comes from a ‘genuine’ place. it may be informed from a genuine place, but by nature it is not real. thats what makes it acting. and i think dancers seem to be under the impression that showing emotion while dancing has to come from the dancer personally feeling those emotions, when thats not the case at all. this criminal fancam is a perfect example of exactly how good taemin is at putting on a character for a performance. you can very clearly see him drop character after the main camera cuts, and pretty much any concert footage shows this as well.

now, being able to do both a complex system of physical movements with your body and also control the minute details and timing in your facial muscles and posture? thats pretty fuckin hard. not a lot of people can do that, it takes just as much practice as learning technique does, just not in the way that people might think. but it is possible.

[yandere-daydreams]

A Yandere!Monika/Reader piece for a lovely anonymous commissioner, with a few unfortunate implications coming towards the end. It was nice to write something a little different from my usual style, and I almost forgot how well this game was written... my adoration of Doki Doki Literature Club is rejuvenated, to say the least.

Word Count: 4.0k

TW: Implied Stalking, Physical Threats, and (Non-Graphic) Violence. 

It was a fixation. That was the best word to describe it.

A fixation.

In itself, the game hadn’t been anything special. Shocking, sure, absolutely horrifying at points, but you were seasoned veteran when it came to horror, a connoisseur of all things dark and demented. That was the downside when it came to warnings. All those labels and reviews were necessary, especially with how a game like Doki Doki Literature Club presented itself, but it kept you on the edge of your seat. If you’re waiting for something bad to happen, you’ll never be surprised when something bad does happen. Just disappointed that it didn’t turn out to be worse.

Either way, you played through the dating-simulator, blushing when Sayori confessed and jumping in your seat when Yuri’s obsession boiled over and having all the responses you were supposed to when unfortunate things happened to people who didn’t really exist. You were painfully precise about these things, never daring to veer off the trodden path, even in a game that couldn’t really be failed, and when it came time for your fun to end, you knew what you were supposed to do. You’d delete Monika’s file, restart the game, and watch things play out. That was it. Three easy steps. Three mindless steps.

Three steps you didn’t think you’d ever actually go through with.

You knew you wouldn’t as soon as you saw it. Monika, a character you hadn’t paid any mind to, sitting right in front of the screen, taking up your monitor in her over-done, oppressive glory, the mood only made more dramatic by just how late it’d gotten, how dark your room was by now. It was a picture, you knew that, something someone had drawn and edited into a game, and yet… it wasn’t, at the same time. There was a connection, as unprecedented as it was unearned. An attraction, albeit one you couldn’t name the source of. A fixation.

There was that word again. Fixation. An undeniable, unreasonable fixation.

Monika seemed to know as well as you. The fact that you’d been staring at the same frame for far too long probably helped her to reach that conclusion, pre-scripted or not.

"Hey, have you ever heard of the term 'yandere'?"

You had, in passing. You’d never paid too much attention to it, though, not enough to be able to pick the definition out.

“It's a personality type that means someone is so obsessed with you that they'll do absolutely anything to be with you. Usually to the point of craziness..."

The idea appealed to you, interested you. Lingering on it for a moment, you let yourself fall into the word. Yandere. You liked that. Yandere.

"A lot of people are actually into the yandere type, you know? I guess they really like the idea of someone being crazy obsessed with them. People are weird! I don't judge, though!"

Well… you wouldn’t want someone to be obsessed with you, you were sure. That seemed like too much attention. It’d take too much effort to keep them interested, and it’d probably be dangerous to entertain a stalker like that… Yeah, you were sure. You didn’t want anyone to be obsessed with you.

But, Monika didn’t exist. She wasn’t dangerous. She didn’t have anyone else to give attention to, and you wouldn’t have to worry about her judging your interests. Even if someone found out, you could just blame it one a glitchy file that won’t close. There wasn’t a risk.

“It's not like I could ever actually kill a person… Just the thought of it makes me shiver. But, come on… everyone's killed people in games before. Does that make you a psychopath? Of course not."

Right. It was just a game. Liking something fictional didn’t make you weird or perverted or… a Yandere for Yanderes, you supposed. It was a dirty little secret. A guilty pleasure. It was normal. Or, it wasn’t anymore abnormal that the disgusting investment a lot of people had in blood-splatter and gore, anyway.

“But if you do happen to be into the yandere type… I can try acting a little more creepy for you. Then again, there's already nowhere else for you to go, or anyone for me to get jealous over."

She didn’t have anyone else in that isolated, tiny world of hers. It would’ve been lonely, if she was real, and for whatever reason, your empathy found that fact too heart-breaking to ignore. And you didn’t really want her to ‘act more creepy’, she was fine as she was, so… that made it a little better, didn’t it? You might’ve just liked the companionship, how close she wanted to be to you. It was an artificial intimacy, and who wouldn’t like intimacy they didn’t have to return?

“Is this a Yandere girl's dream?"

If that's a Yandere’s dream, then your situation must be a Yandere-Lover’s dream. There was no harm, no foul, very low risk and a very high reward, even if it did come in the form of a one-sided, directionless conversation. You thought about finishing the game, speeding through the process and never bothering to think about Monika or Yanderes or Doki Doki Literature Club again.

You thought about it, rolling the idea over in your mind like an antique in need of inspection. You thought about it, scanning over Monika one more time, and turned your monitor off without closing the game. You’d decide tomorrow, before class, or when you got home. A few days of self-indulgence wouldn’t hurt anyone, would it?

Least of all Monika.

Least of all you.

~

You didn’t close the game.

Not before you left, not after class, and certainly not that night, when the urge hit you to play though her dialogue until your eyes forced you to stop. You didn’t bother reading, the next morning, something you sorely came to regret as you sat in your first class of the day, little to do save for staring at the clock and wondering what you should do after school, despite already knowing what the outcome would most likely be. Your teacher was out, today, for the first time all year. She’d bragged that she never missed a day, but you didn’t care enough to raise anything more than a few curious questions. Concern was too much, considering how often accidents happen.

“Do you have a pen?”

A light voice drew you out of your thoughts, and you glanced towards the desk in front of yours, immediately meeting eyes with the girl seated there. You’d never noticed her before, not to any exceptional extent, brown hair and murky eyes making for an unremarkable combination. You simply nodded, reaching down and beginning to search through your bag, talking to fill the silence. “She didn’t leave work for us, right?” You asked, sticking your hand into a random pocket and coming up empty. It was weird, but you tried another. Monika always had a pen on her, it was part of her character design. “I think the assignment on the board was old… it was there yesterday, too.”

She chuckled, as if you’d made a joke. A funny one, judging by how long the noise lasted. “I know that, but…” She trailed off, just long enough to lean onto your desk, attempting to peer over it. “Clubs are demanding, aren’t they? I’m not even a council member, but Debate still has me doing more work than the President.” She let out a heavy sigh, as if the optional dedication had been forced onto her. “It’s all supposed to be extemporaneous -- unplanned, y’know? That’s what used to make it exciting. Everyone was speaking from the heart and everyone minded their own business. It was a competition, but it wasn’t personal.”

You hummed, lightly, closing that compartment and opening another. “And it is, now?”

“Oh, definitely.” There was a subtle emphasis on every other word, it seemed, a passion for nothing in particular breaching whatever she felt like talking about. You could see why she must’ve made a good speaker. “That’s what happens when you start thinking about things too much. They started announcing the topics ahead of time, then people started writing out their arguments, and now you can’t take a side without attacking the other.” There was a pause, a tap to her cheek. A moment to think. “You have to phrase it a certain way, or else it is personal. If you keep things objective, the other side will follow along. It’s amazing how suggestive people can be, when you make an effort to guide them.”

“I wish you would guide me in the direction of a fucking pen,” You mumbled, eliciting another giggle, the sound muffled by a palm over her mouth. “I’m sorry, it usually doesn’t take this long. It’s like they all just, I don’t know, phased out of existence or something.”

“Don’t worry about it.” The disregard came casually, without hesitation. You couldn’t help but wonder if she was as dedicated to her cause as she seemed. “Check the main pocket. You probably kept dropping them in the first place you saw without noticing.” You blinked, glancing up to frown at her, but she just shrugged. “A lot of people do it. If you haven’t caught on, I don’t have a whole much to do ‘cept watch them.”

You didn’t pry further. This was the first time you’d heard her voice, too, so it was fair to assume she wasn’t much of a socialite. “About your club,” You said, bringing the conversation back to a topic that didn’t have to do with how often she stared at your classmates. “Why don’t you quit? You don’t seem to like it very much.”

“Who knows?” She frowned, closing her eyes well she spoke. “I’d have to find another to join, and there’s no guarantee I won’t just keep running into the same problem over and over again. I think about making my own, sometimes, just because I’d be able to make rules against that kind of thing.”

Again, you brightened, and not only because your fingers found something tubular and plastic. “You want to start a club?”

“Yeah, but it’d have to be about something fun.” She rolled her wrist, not noticing when you held out a thoroughly abused pen. “Like, about music or art or…”

“Literature?” You suggested, eagerly.

She scowled, shaking her head, muttering something about her distaste. She said it’d been months since she read a book, years since she’d written something original. Even the idea was alien, to her.

And yet, you couldn’t find it in yourself to be disheartened.

She’d taken the pen, after all.

~

“Whatcha starin’ at?”

Her tone was playful, posture following in suit, the girl rocking back and forth on her heels as she waited for you to snap out of your stupor. You hadn’t meant to zone out, to stare at the dense collection of apartments and condominiums in front of you, but there was just something so familiar about the collection, something you couldn’t put your finger on. But, a hand waving in front of your eyes brought your attention back to the real world, regardless of whether or not you wanted it too.

You were still getting used to having another person around, honestly. Your new friend took a shining to you quickly, settling to let you trail after her like a lost puppy whenever you didn’t have something better to do. She’d offered to show you a shortcut to your train-stop, today, but you were having your doubts about how well she knew the route. It felt like you’d been walking down this same road for ages, now. Like it was a loading screen you didn’t have the connection to overcome.

You took a step forward, standing a little straighter. Attempting to check if the buildings would still be there when you changed perspectives. “Has this neighborhood always been here?” You asked, tilting your head. Still there. “I don’t remember seeing it, until now.”

“As long as I’ve been alive,” She replied, not seeming to take you seriously. “Besides, how would you know? You lock yourself up whenever we’re not in class.”

You huffed, sending a quick glare in her direction, the diversion taking more effort than it should’ve. “I get out occasionally, I’ve just been--”

“Busy with a new game?” She rolled her eyes, setting a swift pace and signaling for you to follow. “It’s not a ‘new game’ if you’ve been working on it for the past two weeks. I’m going to come over and finish it for you myself, one day.”

You were tempted to interrupt her, to contradict her diagnosis, but… you had been playing through Monika’s dialogue for a while. There were so many options, so many routes and monologues, but you’d exhausted most of them. She didn’t hold the same… uniqueness she once did, for lack of a better way to put it. You certainly weren’t tired of playing yet, but you were starting to realize you would be, one day, possibly sooner than you’d anticipated. You’d need something new to focus on, something new to satisfy that itch in your chest, the one that seemed to form every time you were away from your computer for too long. You wondered if there was something similar - Yandere was a genre, technically. There had to be more content, even if you had to look for it.

You resolved to do a more in-depth search once you got home.

“...I’m working on it,” You mumbled, biting the inside of your cheek. Hesitantly, you scanned over her, speeding up to stay at her side as something caught our attention. “When did that start?”

She raised a hand and ran her fingers through her hair self-consciously, already aware of what you were talking about. It was tied back, today, done up painfully tightly and secured with a white hair-band. Her hair was too short for it to come off as elegant or sophisticated, but the way it swung as she walked was cute, and the effort that’d been put into pinning each strand into submission was admirable. She caught onto your approval quickly, locking eyes with you as she spoke. “I’m trying to impress you, idiot.”  

You blinked. She blinked. You blushed, stuttering out something stupid, and she punched you in the side, laughing.

“I’m kidding, (Y/n), don’t freak out on me.” You tried, unsuccessfully, to do as she demanded, earning you another blow, this one coming in the form of an elbow thrown into your rib cage. “What? Can you only accept confessions from 2-D girls, now?”

“It’s just…” You shoved your hands in your pockets, attempting to hide your distress. “It’s just different. I wasn't expecting it!”

“Exactly, it’s different.” She smiled, throwing the offending pony-tail over her shoulder. “Little changes have been doing me a lot of good, lately.”

~

‘One day’ had come too soon.

You knew it would, eventually. You’d been expecting it, in fact. Back-ups had been prepared, a new game and an older series to watch and a few stories on the… riskier side, made by people with too much time and similar interests, and for all intents and purposes, you were ready. It was natural. People got tired of things, of characters and plots and seeing the same face every day, and you knew you would get tired of Monika too, eventually. She was wonderfully written, but no character could be entertaining for… how long had it been? A month? Two?

You needed to check the date more often. Time always seemed to get weird, slowing down and skipping ahead so awkwardly when you spent most of the day in front of a screen.

You guessed the date didn’t matter, though. You were still in the same position, either way, your head resting on one hand while the other laid over your mouse. You’d been staring down Monika’s character file for far too long, but not nearly long enough, at the same time.

It felt like this should be a bigger deal. Like there should be a ceremony, a commemoration, something to mark the occasion. Should you celebrate? Play a funeral dirge? Every action felt inappropriate, but none felt quite as inappropriate as not taking one at all. Absentmindedly, you quit the game, a reaction based on reflex alone. You had a few times, in the beginning, but you still checked Monika’s dialogue. A parting interaction, you rationalized. The final interaction.

"Okay. I'm just going to accept the fact that you need to quit the game once in a while. I'm starting to get used to it, anyway."

Oh, god, she sounded like a clingy girlfriend. You guessed that’s what she was, but she was never this… passive-aggressive.

"Besides, it makes me happy that you always come back..."

You perked up, at that, your favor easily swayed. Maybe you could wait one more day, just give this whole thing another shot--

“But I shouldn’t have to be happy when you come back.”

You hadn’t pressed anything, that time. She shouldn’t have been talking.

“I know you have your own life, and I know you need breaks, but… it’s a really horrible feeling. And since I try to make you feel the best you can feel, you should want to make me feel good, too!”

Except, you didn’t want to make her happy. She was a fictional character, one you didn’t want to be lectured by. Monika seemed to catch onto that as soon as you thought it, though.

“And since you have to want to make me happy… it must be a glitch in my character file. That makes sense. Whenever it happens, it almost feels like I've been killed or something."

It was meta, a little concerning, but your empathy had been all-but drained dry. It wasn’t like you’d felt bad for leaving Monika in the first place, honestly, but an appeal to that non-existent sympathy wouldn’t earn her many points.

"If you could figure out what's causing that, I'll love you forever~"

Yeah, right. Sure she would. Monika would absolutely love you, forever and always, to eternity and beyond. May death do you part.

You didn’t hesitate, this time, deleting her character file and exiting the game. 

You didn’t really feel like playing through the final scene. ~

How long it’d been since someone used this part of the school?

‘Empty’ didn’t quite cover the expanse of nothingness in front of you. The floor was tinted grey with scuff-marks and dirt, unused tables pushed against the walls and chairs that weren’t fit to be sat in stacked on top, forming barricades between shutter-covered windows and yourself. The door had stuck, despite the key in your hand, and everything seemed to make a truly awful creaking sound when touched. The only thing that looked new (relatively new, at least) was the teacher’s desk, dark faux-wood unscarred by whatever’d torn through the rest of the room. Even the lights seemed to feel the effect, dim and flickering, some already succumbing to the pure dullness that permeated the air. It was abandoned. Desolate.

More similar to another classroom you’d acquainted yourself with than you felt comfortable admitting.

“Some people say it’s haunted,” She started, closing the door behind her. You heard the ring of keys jingle, the lock sliding back into place, but you didn’t bother turning to face her. “A lot of people, actually. Rumor’s that a group of underclassmen girls used to sneak at night and do all sorts of satanic stuff. It’s why no one uses this building, anymore.”

“They have to be joking,” You countered, taking a step towards the teacher's desk. You ran a finger along the surface lazily, wiping the resulting dust build-up onto your shirt. “That kind of thing doesn’t happen in real life. Someone probably just thought it’d make a good campfire story.”

She approached before replying, her bag having been discarded somewhere along the way. With silence as unusual as it was between the two of you, you couldn’t help but laugh, turning and getting ready to tease her for being scared or believing in something so supernatural. You opened your mouth, but the joke died and turned to ash on your tongue before it could make it past your teeth.

There she was, like you knew she’d be. Hair up, uniform perfect, and a bright smile pulling at the edges of her lips. As cheery as it ever was. As blinding as it ever was.

The carving knife in her hand almost rivaled its shine.

She took another step towards you, and you took one back, hitting the desk abruptly. “You’re acting like you’d know anything about the real-world, (Y/n).” She was giggling, again, flexing her grip on the knife’s hold. You considered attempting to run past her, making a break for it, but the key was still in her blazer’s pocket. You glanced down, searching for your phone, but its outline was gone and its weight was equally as absent.

Like it’d disappeared into thin air.

It hadn’t, though. Your aggressor laughed one more time, holding up the device in her free hand before dropping it to the floor and crushing it under her heel, the resulting crack sending a spike of something dark into your chest.

“You don’t know shit about the real world,” She said, waving the blade around haphazardly. Another step forward, this one all-but closing the distance between the two of you. “All you think about are… games and fake girls, never what’s right in front of you. We’ve known each other for four years, but I had to hospitalize someone before you’d do so much as look at me.”

Four years. Four years. You hadn’t noticed her before a few months ago. “Listen, I just didn’t think we were that close--”

“I know.” This time, the knife came down. It missed your side, but not enough to save your shirt, a tear forming and something crimson spreading outward from the small cut. The sting came a second later. You wanted to move, to scream, to run, but it was all you could do to remember to breathe as she went on. “You didn’t think we were close. You didn’t think I was worth getting close to. That’s why I started wearing this fucking costume.” She ran a hand through her pony-tail, fingers catching on her hair-tie. The band was practically ripped from her scalp, snapping before she discarded it. “I’m not even a brunette. I thought dying my hair might get your attention, and… it did. Of course it did.” She paused, shrugging, and you remembered how to inhale. “But, that doesn’t matter now.”

You relaxed, ever so slightly. “It doesn’t?”

“It doesn’t.” Her grin was back in a moment, your hopes dropping as soon as they’d arose. “Because the two of us are going to stay here until we know each other, or… until you know me. As well as I know you, at least. Then, we’re going to leave and I’m going to be your girlfriend. It’ll be so sweet, right?” The tension in her shoulder’s lessened, dissolving. But, that edge was still there, and you doubted it’d dissipate any time soon. “You probably don’t even know my name. I’ve never heard you use it before.”

Your eyes widened, the realization hitting you later than it should’ve. “Monika?”

“No, not Monika,” She answered, softly, her smile taking on a more disappointing note. She brandished her beloved knife, and your heart dropped into your stomach. “But, you don’t have to worry about getting it wrong. We’re going to work at it until you love me just as much as you love her.”

[heyitsani]

I Keep My Eyes Wide Open All the Time Chapter 2

Word Count: 6507

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Major character death (eventually), Mentions of past rape/non-con (eventually)

Pairing: Jason Todd/Dick Grayson, Damian Wayne/Jon Kent (mentioned)

Summary: With the potion to restore his memories, Damian is given the choice. Remember or remain ignorant.

Notes: We are now delving into Damian’s memories that fall in line with the timeline of the previous story!  There are some scenes that will be direct parallels to the other story, but these are Damian’s memories.  And it’s the experiences that mold him into the man he becomes in this particular lifetime.

This was hardly edited, just warning you.  My brain is fried from having to care for my two sick gremlins.  Which is also why it’s so late.  Next chapter still coming Friday!

Hopefully.

If you have not read the other story, this one won’t really make much sense.  So you can read that here: WYMIM

You can also read it on AO3 here

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Frowning at the cloaks the tailor slipped over his shoulders, Damian wondered why exactly he had to wear all these uncomfortable garments for his uncle’s wedding.  He had been to banquets and fancy parties before, but he had never had to wear all these heavy layers that were stiff and thick. 

“Honestly, Your Highness, they cannot be that unfortunate,” the tailor teased as he adjusted some of the gold edging on the outer cloak.  “Your father made much the same face when he attended his first wedding as the Crowned Prince.  So much of him in you.”  Damian looked at the man through the looking glass and considered him. 

“Stu, these look perfect,” Damian looked up to see his father walking into the room, dressed in his own ceremonial garbs.  “Are they the same design as the ones you made me for my first?”  The king walked over to stand in front of Damian, smiling down at the younger before looking at the tailor.

Stu waved a hand but bowed his head in the expected respectful manner as he continued to work on a piece.  “They are actually your old garments.  Your father brought them to me and said you would like that particular sentimentality.”  Watching his father’s smile turn from friendly to something the five-year-old wasn’t quite sure how to label, Damian frowned.

“He’s not wrong,” his father said softly, looking back to Damian.  “But something tells me that you are enjoying them about as much as I did at your age.”  His father chuckled as he brushed a hand through the raven locks on his head before resting the hand on his shoulder.

“Yes well, he is his father’s son.”  The king laughed but kept his eyes on Damian.  “I am almost finished.  The Queen was quite insistent that I work as quickly as possible.  But these old bones can only move so quickly these days.”  The smile on his father’s face faltered slightly at the mention of his mother but was quickly put back into place.

“She is a particular woman.”

The old tailor simply hummed and continued to work, but Damian kept a close eye on his father.  Though he was only five, he could tell when there were things being unsaid.  Ser Jason had started showing him how to watch people to read more than just what their words told them.  And his father always said much more with his expression and body then he did with his words, he was coming to find.  But that didn’t mean he understood any of it yet.

“Do you understand your role today, son?”  His father turned his full attention back to Damian, and the younger nodded.  His mother had drilled it into her, demanding nothing but perfection in his memory of what he was supposed to do.

Straightening his spine and lifting his chin, he looked up at his father.  “Mother made sure I knew what to do.  She…impressed upon me the importance of my role.”

“Did she?”  His father’s voice sounded odd.  “And what did your mother have to say about the possibility of making a mistake?”

“To not to.”

“Of course she did,” his father said, but Damian just furrowed his brows.  He didn’t understand why his father suddenly looked angry.  Had he done something wrong?  Said something wrong?  The hand that had been resting on his shoulder fell away and his father took a step back, smoothing down the front of his robes while taking a deep breath and releasing it slowly.

“Father?”

His father watched him for a moment before answering, his tone controlled but it didn’t match the look in his eyes.  “Your uncle is glad to have you carry his hand fasting box for him.  He will be happy with your performance no matter what mistakes might be made.  Anyone who tells you differently will have to deal with me.”

“Those sound like fighting words, My King,” an amused voice sounded from the door and Damian’s frown turned to a smile at the sight of Ser Jason leaning against the wall, arms crossed over the rich red of his cloaks.  “Should you be teaching a five-year-old such things?”

“Oh please,” Stu sounded, drawing Damian’s gaze.  “I have been around long enough to know he is this way because of you.”  Ser Jason let out a laugh and Damian could hear his father chuckling, but Damian’s attention was on the man at his feet.  “Now, I believe I am done.  Does it have your approval, Your Majesty?”

“Impeccable as always.  But Stu honestly, when will you just call me Richard?  You’re practically family.”  The older man stood and brushed himself off before looking over at the king.  “Don’t give me that look.  You have never stood upon propriety before.  Least of all with me.”

“Yes well, you have always been your own force.  Perhaps His Highness will feel differently.”

“You mean perhaps he’s being influenced differently than his father.”

“Jason.” 

“Sorry, My King.”  Damian looked between the three men and tried to figure out what exactly they were talking about, but none of it made any sense to him.  He felt like these kinds of conversations happened a lot around him.  About him.  “I did come here with a purpose.  His former Majesty is gathering everyone for the ceremony and requested I collect the two of you.  Appears you finished just in the nick of time, Stu.”

The older man chuckled as he went about packing his tools away.  Damian looked at his father and waited for his approval before he moved.  “You can step down, my son.  Stu, you have done a marvelous job as always.  You will be at the ceremony and banquet, yes?”

“I will.  I will never miss an opportunity to see my hard work being admired.”

“Cheeky old man,” Ser Jason joked as he moved further into the room and over to the king.  Damian noticed Stu didn’t bat an eye at the kiss the two men shared as he gathered his things.  But he also knew his father and Ser Jason only ever did this around certain people.  Never anyone who wasn’t close to the family.  And never his mother.  “We should get you both to the carriages.  I am sure Hood is there waiting for me as well.”

“And Mother?”

He didn’t notice the flinch in his father or the tightened grip on Ser Jason’s waist.  “Yes, I am certain your mother is there waiting for us as well.”  His father stepped away from Ser Jason and picked up an object on the table where Stu had been keeping his tools.  He made his way over to where Damian still stood on the stool, holding up the crown that was specifically for the Heir Apparent and Damian scrunched his nose at it.  He hated the crown, but he knew at certain occasions he was required to wear it.  The royal wedding between his uncle and the Brother of the King of Kent was one of those.

“It’s so heavy,” he muttered, standing still as his father placed it upon his head and adjusted it so it sat properly.

“Just wait until you have to wear the one your father has to wear,” Ser Jason teased, holding out the Sovereign’s crown to his father, who rolled his eyes as he bowed his head so the other man could place it on his head.  Damian could only remember a handful of moments when his father wore anything more than a simple crown.  “But if it doesn’t suite the two of you perfectly.”

Damian watched the two men stare at each other for a moment before he carefully got down from the stool and looked up at them.  “Why do you not have a crown, Ser Jason?  All the high-ranking Knights have them.”

“I am not a knight, Little Prince.  I am my own entity and we do not have to subject ourselves to the frivolity of a crown.”  Ser Jason looked down at Damian and held his hand out for the boy to take, which he did immediately.  “Now, let us away before His former Majesty comes looking for you both.”

“Yes, what a shame it would be to stress Father more than he already has been.  You’d think he was still king and having to make sure all the details were in place,” Damian listened to his father speak as they walked out of the room even though it made little sense to him, his hand still gripped in Ser Jason’s.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“I may be a king, but he is my son.  And I will not ignore him for my duties.  I will not have him think I care for others more than I care for my own child.”  Damian frowned as he hid just around the corner from where his father was speaking to a high-ranking member of the Council.  He didn’t need to hear the start of the conversation to know that this was about the appearance he had made earlier when the Council had been in session.  He hadn’t known and wouldn’t have barged in if he had, but once he had come in his father had insisted on hearing what he had come in for.

Like he always did, and Damian never gave much thought to.

“What are you doing, Little Prince?”  Damian flinched when a voice sounded behind him.  Turning, he found Ser Jason standing with a knowing smile on his lips and an amused glint in his eyes.  “We should work on your awareness regarding your surroundings.”

Sighing, the seven-year-old turned his back completely to what he had been watching and looked up at the man who was, for all intents and purposes, a second father to him.  “I made a mistake today,” he admitted, looking down at the ground.  Ser Jason said nothing, and Damian peeked up at the man through his lashes.  The frown that was present confused him.

“Did your father say you made a mistake?”  Damian shook his head and looked back down.  “Did he tell you that you did anything wrong?  Treat you as though you had?”

He thought back to the moment he had rushed into the room and how his father had looked at him.  He hadn’t looked thrilled, but he had looked happy at the very least.  He remembered how he had heard muttering coming from the men and women at the table but how his father had ignored them and let Damian climb into his lap and tell him about the jump he had made on his horse earlier.

“No,” Damian admitted, scuffing his boot on the ground.  “But…”  Glancing over his shoulder, he frowned at the corner that hid his father and the Councilmember.

“But nothing, Little Prince,” Ser Jason said, kneeling to get eyelevel with him.  Damian looked at the older man, still feeling ashamed for upsetting the Council and forcing his father to have to speak up.  “Come with me, I’ll tell you a story.”  Ser Jason stood and held his hand out for Damian to take while they walked.

Hesitating just a moment, with one last backward glance, Damian slipped his smaller hand into the much larger one.  He remained silent as they walked away from where his father had been and toward the kitchens.

“When you were born your father was concerned,” Ser Jason started as they got far enough away from his father, so they would not be overheard.  “Your grandmother, Talia, was not the warmest of mothers.  She was strict and enforced many rules on your father and uncle.  She wanted them to be the very best and she thought that meant not treating them as her children, but as her pupils.  Even though Prince Timothy was just a toddler and your father not much older.  Your grandfather, though kinder and more understanding, took his duty as king very seriously when he was crowned after your father was born.”

Having heard stories about his grandmother from his father, what Ser Jason was telling him made sense.  And he knew his grandfather well enough to know how important duty was to him.  But he didn’t understand what this had to do with what had happened today.  Or why his father had been concerned when he had been born.

“He told me he was worried you would not know just how loved you were.  That you might grow up the way he had because your mother was not going to be…very attentive.  He worried he would be like his own father.”  Damian looked up at the man and stopped walking, furrowing his brows at that revelation.  Ser Jason laughed and gave his hand a tug so they could resume walking.  “That face you’re making just supports what I had told him.  There was no way that your father would do anything other than love you openly.”

Damian considered this information as he was led into the kitchens and then lifted onto one of the stools he and Ser Jason always sat on while indulging in a snack.  He missed the way the cook rolled her eyes as Ser Jason gave her his bright smile.  He didn’t see the other kitchen workers chuckling as the head cook went to get them a snack.  All he could focus on was the fact that his father, the one person he had never doubted cared deeply for him, had worried Damian wouldn’t know love.

“Ser Jason?”  Damian looked over at the man as he took his usual seat.  The man raised a dark brow and waited for Damian to continue.  “Did I get Father in trouble today?”  Ser Jason looked startled for a moment before laughing loudly.  Glancing around, Damian noticed the entire kitchen staff stopped to watch the pair fondly for a moment before going back to their tasks.

“Little Prince,” Ser Jason gasped, still chuckling, “your father gets himself in trouble with the Council all the time, and he will always admit when he is wrong.  But on this?  On this he will never admit any faults.  Because loving you?  Being your father first and foremost?  That is not a fault.”  Relaxing a little onto his stool, Damian sighed.  He was glad to hear his father was not in trouble because of him. 

Smiling at the cook who set a plate in front of them, Damian thanked her before turning that smile onto the man next to him.  He wasn’t at all surprised to find that familiar smile on Ser Jason’s face, the one Damian knew was just for him and his father. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He stood ramrod straight at the top of the stairs, next to his mother who almost looked bored as they waited for the caravan of carriages and horses made their way onto the castle grounds to the main gates.  He remained still because it was expected of it, but he really wanted to move.  He wanted to adjust the cape he wore to keep the chill away.  He wanted to shift the crown on his head, the one he hated so much more than the basic one he was allowed for events that were not quite as formal.

But his Uncle Timothy and the Duke of Kent visiting was apparently a formal affair.  And one he knew his father was looking forward to.

So his mother had made it clear that he was expected to behave as a Wayne would and how an Heir Apparent should.  Which meant he remained still and silent, waiting for the carriage in the middle of the entourage to stop and the two men to step out.  He watched his father rush forward to hug his uncle and then exchange a handshake with his husband.

“Damian, come!”  His father called.  Glancing up at his mother, she gave him a stern and expectant look before nodding.  Only then did he make his way down the steps to greet the visitors.

“Nephew,” his uncle greeted reaching out for a hug and though he knew he would hear about it from his mother later, Damian sunk into the affection.  “You have grown so much!  You will be towering over me and your father in no time.”  Damian smiled up at the man and nodded.  “You remember Kon.”  The other man looked away from the king and gave Damian a smile, which the younger returned easily.  “Surely you also remember King Clark’s son, Jon?”  The young man stood next to Duke Kon, smiling over at Damian as well.

“I do.  Hello, Your Highness,” Damian greeted formally.  The other prince gave a small wave but remained where he stood.  “We have missed you, Uncle.  Father was so pleased to get your letter that you and the Duke would be coming as the representatives for the Kingdom of Metropolis for the Treaty of Justice renewal.”

The older man laughed and settled a hand on Damian’s shoulder.  “So formal for an eight-year-old.  Are you certain you didn’t age ten years since I’ve been gone?”  Ducking his head, Damian felt a blush rise on his cheeks.

“Ah that would be his mother’s doing,” he heard his father comment.  He lifted his head to look at his father but caught the eye of Prince Jon instead.  He had an almost curious look on his face.  “Come, let us go inside and allow the staff to help your men and women unpack and get settled.  Alfred had arranged everything according to the list you sent with your letter.  Has anything changed, Brother?”

“No, all should still be accurate.  Will Father be joining us?”  Damian watched the three older men walk ahead while he waited for Prince Jon to fall into step with him.

“Was it a hard journey, Your Highness?” 

“Please call me Jon,” the boy said with his bright smile.  It made Damian respond with a smile of his own, almost against his will.  But he quickly glanced over where his mother had been standing earlier and thankfully found the spot empty.  If she had gone back inside, then that meant he was free to do as he pleased until dinner.

“You may call me Damian,” he returned the sentiment.  The other prince seemed to brighten even more at the words and it reminded Damian so much of his own father’s disposition.  “Do you need to rest before dinner?  Or perhaps require anything I can get?”

Jon shook his head and looked around the area as they reached the top of the stairs.  “Is the Dragon Slayer around?  Last time we came he promised to show me some of his souvenirs from his adventures.  I would very much like to see that.”

“I believe Ser Jason is training with the knights,” Damian said, glancing toward the training grounds.  He wasn’t usually supposed to interrupt the training regimes, but he supposed Jason wouldn’t be too upset this once.  “Let us go this way.  It is quicker to go around instead of traveling through the castle,” he gestured, leading Jon back down the steps.

The pair walked for a few moments in silence before Jon spoke up.  “How exciting to have a Dragon Slayer in your kingdom!  I have read every tome in our library back home about their history and great victories.  And their heartbreaking defeats.  Ser Todd was so interesting when we were here for the wedding.”  Damian watched Jon talk out of the corner of his eye as he led the other boy toward the training grounds, enraptured with his excitement.  It was almost contagious.

It would have been contagious if he hadn’t had to worry about his mother’s ever watchful eye.

“Ser Jason is a noble man.  The strongest of his line,” Damian agreed as they rounded one of the walls into shortcut that would take them out to the training field.  Jon practically bounced as they walked and Damian felt himself smiling at his antics.  “He promised me a scale one day.  I hope on his next venture he will be successful in retrieving one for me.”

“How brave!  I read the dragons burst into flames when they have been slain.”

Damian nodded.  “They do.  That is why he has not gotten one for me yet.  It is a difficult task and one must be especially quick.  But Ser Jason said he is sure he should be able to get one.”  Jon’s eyes widened and Damian felt his chest swell with pride for knowing Ser Jason well enough to impress him.  “He is my father’s closest confidant, and he tells me of his travels frequently.  I bet he would be happy to tell you of some of them,” Damian offered just as they stepped out onto the edge of the training fields.

With a glance around at the men staggered throughout the fields, working through drills, Damian caught sight of the familiar face.  With a tilt of his head, he gestured for Jon to follow him through the ranks toward Ser Jason.

“Little Prince,” he was greeted as soon as Ser Jason noticed him.  His smile was familiar but shifted to something more formal when his eyes shifted to Jon.  “Prince Jon, how good to see you again.”  He gave the prince a customary bow before glancing between the pair.  “To what do I owe this interruption?”  And though Damian could see the contrite look on Jon’s face, he simply smiled at the man he considered a second father.

“Jon asked after you,” he offered as an explanation.  The Slayer nodded and looked over at the visiting prince.

“I promised you a chance to view some of my trophies,” Ser Jason confirmed, and Jon lit up, bouncing in excitement.  “I do need to finish training, but I promise I will escort you over to the display rooms as soon as we break.”  The older man smiled over at Damian and without saying anything, Damian knew what was being asked of him. 

Turning to Jon, who had not lost the excitement on his face, Damian pointed to a space behind him.  “Let us wait over there, Jon,” he instructed.  “Are you hungry or thirsty?  My grandfather’s manservant always makes sure to provide the soldiers and their spectators with refreshments.”  The other boy bounced over to where Damian directed him and glanced over the options, picking a few small bites before he went back to watching the men and women on the grounds. 

Passing the time chatting about how things had been in the years since they had last seen each other, Damian allowed Jon to ramble on about the state of his country and how they have faired so much better since Damian’s uncle had come to live in their kingdom.  He listened while Jon talked about the lessons his father had started introducing him to, things that would help him in running the kingdom one day and Damian confirmed his own father had been doing much the same.

“Father loves to speak of our friendship,” Jon told him as the two watched the soldiers finish for the day and begin clearing from the field.  “We have many other kingdoms come for treaties or international relations, but he always remains firm that his favorite is with Gotham.  I hope we can continue that once we are crowned.”

“Of course we can,” Damian nodded, serious.  “Our kingdoms have been allies far too long to change that when we rule.”  Damian glanced over at Jon and found the prince watching him closely.  “What is it?”

“I did not mean politically.  Father holds his friendship with your grandfather and father very highly.  I would like to do the same.”

Damian opened his mouth to reply but found he didn’t quite know what to say.  Friendship wasn’t something he had ever really experienced, his mother keeping him separate from anyone his own age outside of visiting royalty.  He knew there were a few kids living in the castle, offspring of servants, but he had never been allowed to interact.  He wasn’t sure he knew how to be a friend.  But he wanted to try.

“I would like that.”  Jon’s smile told him he had said the right thing.  All Damian could do was smile back.

“Now,” Ser Jason interrupted as he walked over, wrapping an arm around each boy.  “I do believe I have some boasting to do.  Shall we?”  He glanced between the two and Damian allowed Jon to answer.

“Yes please!”  The older man chuckled and guided the pair toward the castle entrance that would lead to the hall where the all of the trophies the Dragon Slayers collected were displayed.  “Damian told me you are to try and get him a scale!  How frighteningly fast you must be for…”  Damian let Jon’s chatter fade to background noise as he spotted his mother standing in one of the upper windows, watching the trio with narrowed eyes and an expression he couldn’t quite place.

Whatever it was, it made him want to shrink back and hide from it.  But as they got closer to being almost directly under her, he noticed it wasn’t the three of them she was watching, but Ser Jason alone.

And though he couldn’t place the exact emotion, his instincts screamed danger.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hurrying down the hall, Damian wove in and out of the gathered staff members that had lined up to say goodbye to his uncle, the Duke, and Prince. 

He was late.

His mother had insisted he go back and change into more formal cloaks for the send off and it had thrown off everything.  Especially since his manservant had already left and he had had to figure it out all on his own.  He had gained fresh respect for the man who had been helping him for years now.

“Your Highness!”  A familiar voice called, causing Damian to stop and spin.  “What happened to the cloaks you were already wearing?!  You are all a mess.”  His manservant rushed up to him and immediately started straightening his layers. 

“Mother insisted,” was all he could say in response.  The man tutted and continued to fix him.  Finally, after straightening his crown, the man stepped back and nodded. 

“Now rush along, My Prince.  The family is already waiting.”  Nodding and breathing a quick thank you, Damian continued hurrying along the hallway.  He emerged from the castle to find his mother at the top of the steps, standing regally as always, but the rest of the family down near the waiting carriages. 

Taking a deep breath, Damian slowed his gait and made his way to his mother, saying nothing at her silent assessment before heading down the stairs.

“There you are, Son!”  His father smiled brightly when he caught sight of Damian, waving him over.  “We were just wondering what was keeping you.”  Damian smiled tentatively, glancing back at his mother’s cool gaze before looking back at his father.  He didn’t miss the narrowing of his father’s eyes at the motion of looking at his mother, but it was gone before he could question it.

“I had a mishap with my cloaks,” was all he offered.  Taking the blame was the safest bet.  “But I am glad to not miss the sendoff.  Uncle,” he stepped forward and accepted a hug from his uncle and then the Duke, who had had come to also think of as an uncle over the last few weeks.

His uncle wrapped an arm around his shoulders after the Duke released him and looked down on him.  “We will arrange to have you come stay with us soon, yes?”  Damian nodded, smiling brightly.  “I will write you father about it soon.  You must come in the Spring before the heat settles.  It is the best season out there and there will be much to show you.”

“I look forward to it, Uncle.”

“Me too!”  Prince Jon chimed in as he rushed over from where he had been chatting with Ser Jason by the horses pulling the carriage.  “We will have the best time!”  Damian smiled at the other boy and nodded.  And even though he didn’t want his mother to know he had formed such a good bond with the other prince, he easily accepted the hug from the older boy.  “Don’t forget to write.  We will exchange letters, yes?”

Pulling back, Damian’s smile remained.  “Yes.”  Jon bounced before glancing back at the carriage.

“Well, we must be off,” Uncle Timothy spoke up, moving over to his father’s side.  “Brother, thank you for welcoming me home.  I have missed our time together.  You must come with Damian to visit.”

His father chuckled and wrapped his uncle in a warm hug that Damian knew all too well.  “I shall see if I can get Father to run the country again so that I might come visit.”  Damian watched the pair laugh before parting.  His father gave the Duke a hug before moving to stand with Damian.  “Prince Jon, please send my well wishes to your father and mother.  It was wonderful to have you join us.”

The boy smiled brightly and accepted the offered hug before he waved and bounded toward the carriages, slipping in behind his uncles.  Damian waved with his father when the horses began moving forward as Ser Jason backed away and gave wave of his own.

“Well, My King,” the older man sighed as he stopped next to the king.  When he didn’t say anything more, Damian glanced over at the slayer and noticed the two men looking at each other.  The look on both their faces was familiar, but painful.  Something he couldn’t quite pinpoint the meaning of.  But it was one he had seen plenty of times over the past eight years.

“Yes, My Slayer.”  The two nodded at each other before glancing down at Damian, confusing him further.  “Come, Son.  Let us to be office and I shall show you what happens now that the assembly has away, and we have the treaties to send out.”

Nodding his head, Damian turned and walked with his father, Ser Jason following closely behind them.  He didn’t look to see if his mother was still standing at the top of the stairs because he knew she wouldn’t be.  Not once the sake of appearances was over.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The room was quiet outside of the scratch of his quill on parchment and the rustling of papers as his mother read through letters sent from her homeland.  He could tell just by the sound of the papers that whatever was written on their surface was not what she had wanted to read.  So rarely did his mother bother to show much in the way of emotion around him, so when she slipped up and let some shine through it always intrigued him.

Glancing at the woman out of the corner of his eye, Damian took in her rigid posture as she got up and paced the room while continuing to read whatever had been written to her.

“Mother?”  He called out when he noticed her crumple up one of the pages in her hand.  His mother stopped walking and turned to look at him, looking like she had forgotten Damian had been in the room with her all this time.  “Is everything okay?”  The woman might not ever really show she cared about him outside of his role in the family, but she was still his mother.

Some part of her had to care, right?

“Have you finished your work for the day?” 

“No, Mother,” he answered truthfully, glancing down at the page in front of him.  Yes, he was nearly done, but it wouldn’t do to lie to her.  “I have two more problems to solve before I am finished.”

“Then you need not concern yourself with me, do you?”  Instead of speaking, Damian simply shook his head and looked back down to his work.  He watched her resume her pacing out of the corner of his eye as he went back to working on the problems, trying not to give himself away.  But this work he could do in his sleep and her reactions were just too curious to not want to know what news she had received. 

A heavy-handed knock came to the door and drew both of their attention.  “His Majesty King Richard,” the guard at the door of the study announced as he pushed open the doors and stepped aside.  Sitting straighter, Damian smiled as his father swept into the room with a smile of his own. 

“Damian, there you are,” his father spoke as he made his way over to the table he had his work spread out on.  “The Council meeting is in a short while and you are to be in attendance today.  Have you finished your work for the day?”  The older man picked up a parchment and glanced over the figures that were worked out on it.  “These are very good.” 

“I am finishing my last right now, Father,” Damian told him, and he watched his father nod before picking up another stack of parchments to look over.

He tried not to react when his mother made her way over and kept his eyes on the final problem.  “I was not made aware he was to be in Council today.  I have his afternoon planned already.”  The tone of her voice made Damian cringe because he knew his father was one of the very few people who she was allowed to speak to however she pleased.  Ser Jason had explained the situation to him a few years ago, but he only really came to understand recently.

“Then you shall have to cancel whatever it is you have prepared.”  His father’s voice gave no room for argument.  At least that would have been true if he had been speaking to anyone other than his mother.

“I will do no such thing!  I am his mother and therefore oversee his schooling.”

Looking up, Damian saw steel in his father’s eyes, and it made him want to cringe.  It was rare to see King Richard mad about anything.  Even when things were really bad, Damian could only count on one hand the number of times he had seen his father truly mad.  Most of those times were directed at someone who had done wrong to another person.

“And I am his father and king, and I will have him join me in Council today.  That is final.  Come, Damian.”  His father set down the parchments he was holding and gestured for Damian to stand.  And though his mother turned angry, accusing eyes on him, Damian did as his father asked.  He stood and smoothed out his clothing before gathering his work and cleaning the space.  “We can deposit these things in your rooms on our way to the meeting.”

“Yes, Father,” he agreed, glancing between his parents who were back to staring at each other with fire in their eyes. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“You cannot just storm in whenever it pleases you and demand your way!”  Damian froze in mid-reach of the door to his father’s study, hearing his mother’s angry voice.  “He is my son too!  You have already poisoned him against me and stolen his love from me, giving it to that….to that man!  I will not have you steal his very presence from me too!”

“You are being dramatic, Catalina.  I have stolen nothing.  Your lack of warmth and care has caused him to seek that comfort elsewhere.”  Where his mother sounded angry, his father sounded controlled.  He could practically see them.

If he had to guess, his father was probably seated at his desk and his mother in front of it with her palms resting on the rich oak.  He had known their argument from earlier was far from over, but he hadn’t expected it to be brought back up so quickly.

“Do not presume to tell me how to care for my own child.”

“And do not presume to tell me what I, as his father and king, can and cannot do.  He is my son.  He is the Crowned Prince of Gotham.  His schooling is important, but he is ten years old and has responsibilities he needs to start learning.  I was much younger than him when my own responsibilities began.  And that work you have him doing is a joke.”  There was a pause and Damian heard his mother scoff before the sound of papers being dropped onto the desk sounded.  “He could do these in his sleep.  He is brilliant and you are having him do work below him.  If you cannot be trusted to challenge him then I will have to find someone to take your place.”

Damian’s eyes widened at the threat because he was no fool.  If his mother didn’t handle his schooling, then she had no tether to this family.  She had no role and no purpose to even be there.

“You would threaten my place when you owe me everything?”

“I do not owe you a single thing, Catalina.  In fact, it is you who owes me.  It is you who was headed for the Church of Ra’s.”  Damian shuttered at the statement, knowing the cruelties of his grandmother’s home country and where maidens were forced into forever worship of King Ra’s when they reached a certain age and were unmarried.  A woman facing that would likely be desperate.  “The sooner you realize that the sooner we can all be much happier.  You are nothing to me.  You have always been nothing to me.  Just a contract.  You knew that long before you came to Gotham.  Do not fool yourself into thinking you will ever be anything more.”

The sound of flesh hitting flesh caused him to step back and consider storming into the room.  He knew there was no way his father had hit his mother and he did not like the emotion the thought of his mother hitting his father evoked in him.

“Damian?”  Looking over to see his grandfather standing just down the hallways, he straightened his spine and clenched his fists.  “Is everything all right?” 

With one last glance at the closed door of his father’s study, Damian made his way over to his grandfather.  “I was going to speak with Father regarding the invitation to visit Uncle Timothy but it seems he is in a conversation with Mother.”  His grandfather regarded him closely, looking toward the room that held his parents before resting his blue gaze back on Damian.  “I suppose I can ask him at supper.”

“Yes, I suppose that would be a fine time,” the older man agreed, placing a hand on Damian’s shoulder and guiding him down the hall.  “Your father was telling me of your schooling the other day.  He was quite impressed with how far you have advanced and I think it might be time…”  Damian half listened to his grandfather as they walked, casting one last glance over his shoulder toward his father’s study before they rounded a corner.

[regolithheart]

Love In The Time of Coronavirus: Chapter Two

Summary: One pandemic, one lake house, and two people who loathe one another. Will they be able to survive the outbreak...and each other?

MASTER LIST

Read on AO3.

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

CHAPTER TWO:

FUCK! Fuck, fuck, fuck. 

Nesta was being punished—for all the horrible things she had done in another life. Probably for all of the horrible things she had done in this life. Would things have been different if she had volunteered more? Gave money to charities? Stopped calling people idiots?

Looking at the man standing outside of her car, grinning at her, confirmed that no, nothing would have prevented the universe from deciding to ruin her life.

“I’ll talk to you later,” Nesta grumbled and hung up the phone before Elain could respond. 

She narrowed her eyes at the figure watching her, trying to assess her options. If only she’d arrived five minutes earlier, she could have gotten the worse news in recent memory and turned her car around. She would have gladly driven all night, that six and a half hour drive in reverse, if it meant she could avoid the predicament she was now in.

But there was no point in wishful thinking. That wasn’t how life worked for Nesta. So she took another deep breath and stepped out of her car. 

“Nesta Archeron.” The voice was deep and much closer than she had expected. How he got to her car so quickly, she didn’t know. 

When he reached over to help her, she slammed the door shut. It was much more forceful than she had expected it to be, but being able to take out some of her irritation in that way gave her a little relief. 

The man’s eyes were still holding her face which made her want to ball up her fists, but Nesta noticed his grin falter a fraction before he twitched his thumb towards himself.

“Cassian,” he offered.

“I know.” She turned on her heels, but caught the reassuring nod he gave himself—the slightest movement of his chin—out the corner of her eye.

She popped her trunk open. 

He followed her. Of course he did.

“Need a hand?”

Nesta grabbed her suitcase and heaved it out in one fluid motion, then grabbed her work bag and slung it on her shoulder. 

“No.”

There was that insufferable grin again. 

“Looks like you do,” Cassian said and grabbed the bag full of books before Nesta could protest and closed the trunk with a firm hand. 

Nesta ground her teeth, but he was already walking towards the house.

“You coming, sweetheart?”

Nesta’s bag bounced and kicked up the gravel as she wheeled it behind her, but she refused to walk any quicker. 

Cassian had already turned the corner and she let herself pause for a moment to take in the scenery. Past the manicured lawn and white Adirondack chairs were stone steps cut into the gentle slope that wound down to a wooden dock nestled in the water. 

Tall oaks framed her view and Nesta saw a pair of swallows skim the rippling surface. She watched as they danced around each other, dipping, gliding, pulling apart and then diving close. 

She grimaced at the thought that one single cocky male with a man-bun no less, was the only difference between her idea of paradise and her idea of hell on earth.

Turning around to head inside, she saw Cassian standing there watching her and she didn’t know what agitated her more. The fact that one of his eyebrows was raised, amusement on his face, or that he was holding the door open, waiting for her. 

Nesta marched through the French doors, ignoring him completely. 

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

The house in one word was…beautiful. It was so beautiful that as she looked around, Nesta was only mildly irritated at Rhys. She had hoped that she would able to turn her scrupulous eye on it and tally up all the tell-tale signs of architecture-by-numbers and she was ready to use every ounce of that as ammo against him. 

She had almost stopped in the middle of the doorway when she saw the large white cedar dining table with the 180 degree view of the lake, not the live-edge walnut table with gaudy chandler she had expected to see. And her body hummed with pleasant surprise to see that the rest of the house was decorated in the same modest way with soft muted colors as to not compete with the surrounding landscape that could be appreciated through the large expanses of glass. 

Cassian cleared his throat behind her. “Would you like a tour?”

Nesta tried her best at a non-committal shrug and was glad that he didn’t comment. 

He set down Nesta’s book bag onto the counter of the breakfast bar and gestured wide. “Kitchen and dining room,” and nodded his head past Nesta’s shoulder. “Living room.”

Nesta eyed the double-height room and appreciated the openness of the living spaces. She followed Cassian down the corridor as he pointed out the butler’s pantry and half-bath. Next to it was the office where the two side walls were lined with bookshelves, flanking the large window that overlooked the lawn.

“You can work in here…if you want.” Cassian said, motioning to Nesta’s work bag which she still had slung on her shoulder.

She hummed and shrugged again, hitching her bag higher on her shoulder.

Across the office was the media room which housed a projection screen and what looked to be a custom made sofa big and deep enough for ten Cassians to lounge comfortably. Nesta eyed the array of pillows in varying shades of purple as she ran a hand along the arm of the sofa. Mohair. 

Next to the media room, as Elain had promised was a home gym. There were some weight machines as well as a treadmill and two Pelotons, which made Nesta roll her eyes. Free weights and yoga mats sat in one corner of the room and Nesta’s jaw nearly dropped to see an actual sauna across from the en suite bath. 

Cassian chuckled at the look on her face. 

“Believe it or not, it gets used quite often.”

Nesta had told Elain this wasn’t a vacation, but she made a mental note to take advantage of the sauna as much as possible while she was stuck there. 

“And here,” Cassian said, taking long strides to the French doors that clearly opened to the outside, “Is the back patio.”

It was a sliver of space that was sandwiched between the house and the sloping hill next to it, but it was big enough for a small lap pool, an outdoor shower and a Jacuzzi. 

“If you didn’t bring your own, there are extra towels and swimsuits for guests in the linen closet. Although…” Cassian’s eyelids drooped as he eyed her up and down, the tip of his tongue sticking out the corner of his mouth. “I’m not one for ceremony around here.” 

Nesta looked at him and took two steps closer. His grin widened, showing his canines. 

She tilted her face towards him, her smile matching his. “Eat shit,” she said and walked away. She heard his bark of laughter behind her.

The only other room on the first floor was the master bedroom which was modest in size given what Nesta has need of the house so far, but it did open up to its own private patio with a spectacular view of the forest meeting the water. 

What wasn’t modest however, was the master bathroom and closet, which combined was the same size as the bedroom. Possibly bigger.

Nesta felt an odd flutter in her chest when she saw Feyre’s clothes neatly hanging in the closet next to Rhys’. She quickly left the room and almost ran into Cassian in the corridor. 

“The bedrooms are upstairs. You can have your pick,” he said.

She was surprised that he didn’t add any additional commentary when she nodded at him. 

She wanted to protest when he grabbed her suitcase on the way, but she found that her throat was dry, so she simply followed him up the stairs.

“So when are Elain and Gregory showing up?” Cassian asked. 

Nesta couldn’t tell if he was trying to make a joke or if he really forgot Graysen’s name. Either way, it was funny enough to take the sting out of the fact that Elain was still in Los Angeles and Nesta allowed herself a smile. 

“Not until tomorrow,” she answered stopping next to him on the second floor. 

He gestured to the first door which stood ajar. “This is my bedroom. Feel free to stop by anytime.” He nudged the door open further as he grinned at her.

Nesta looked at him and refused to let her eyes wander past his shoulder. That was exactly what he wanted and she wasn’t going to play his game. She held his gaze with a hard glare of her own and then continued down the hallway.

Cassian chuckled as he easily caught up with her. “Mor and Az’s rooms, but they’re not here to object if you take one. Guest bath, guest bath, guest room, and another guest room. This one actually has its own bath connected to it.”

“Great,” Nesta said, pushing the door open and dropping her work bag onto the bed. The fact that the bedroom had its own bathroom was a plus enough, but it being as far away as possible from Cassian was a little miracle that she thought the universe owed her. 

Cassian followed and set the suitcase down at the foot of the bed. “There’s one more floor…if you’re interested in seeing the library.”

He left the room and it irritated her that he already knew the answer before she even said it. 

Nesta debated whether or not to close her bedroom door and deny Cassian the acknowledgement that he knew anything about her. However small the insight was, it felt like a violation, especially since she hadn’t offered the fact willingly. 

In the end, her love of books won out and when she reappeared in the hallway, she saw Cassian leaning against the railing at the end of the corridor, waiting for her.

“Needed a moment?”

Nesta’s spine tingled with fire. “Your big ego was sucking all of the air out of the room. I needed to catch my breath.”

Cassian’s grin widened, but he didn’t provide a remark which Nesta thought was oddly out of character for him. He simply stood up, stretched his arms over his head which revealed a slice of bronzed skin between his jeans and t-shirt, and began to climb the stairs.

He was trying to rile her up on purpose and she refused to fall for the bait.

The entire third floor of the house was half terrace that looked like it doubled as an outdoor living space, complete with outdoor sofas and loungers, and even another dining table, and a library. Any wall that wasn’t lined with floor to ceiling bookcases was a window. 

The focus of the third floor, as was with the other floors, was the breathtaking view onto Lake Velaris, but Nesta was overcome by the stacks before her. Unlike the office where the bookshelves were all lined with trinkets and photos, the library was full of an extensive collection of books. 

There was all the classics, bound in leather. Some, to Nesta’s surprise were even first or second editions, just sitting there waiting to be touched. There were old Californian almanacs and all types of history books. There were large atlases spanning decades and art books featuring well-known and obscure artists alike. And a quarter of the books were in different languages. Nesta counted at least five as she scanned the shelves. 

She rounded one of the stacks and saw Cassian sitting in a window seat. His legs were stretched out in front of him, crossed at the ankles. His arm was slung across the upholstered back of the seat and he was looking out the window, watching the trees rustle in the breeze.

His ear twitched when he heard her approaching and he turned to look at her. “Does it please the lady?”

Leave it to Cassian to ruin the first bit of real happiness Nesta had found since she had arrived. And no longer under the library’s spell, she crossed her arms. 

“Why aren’t you in France?”

Cassian raised his eyebrow, amused, but also a little perplexed. “What an odd question to ask someone. Why aren’t you in France?” 

Nesta did not want to play this game with him. “Why aren’t you in France with Feyre and Rhys and…the others?”

“Oh.” He scratched his chin and the sound of his fingernails against his five o’clock shadow grated on Nesta’s nerves. “I was never in France with Feyre and Rhys and…the others.” 

He grinned at her, then leaned his shoulder against the shelf next to him. 

“Actually, I was in France with them, but only for a couple of days back in February. Have you ever been to Taillé? It’s a bit pretentious, but the risotto was top notch. That reminds me…” Cassian was on his feet in one graceful movement and was leaving Nesta behind as he descended the stairs.

Nesta rolled her eyes. It was rich that he would call anything pretentious considering the fact that they were currently quarantining themselves in a lake-side mansion. 

She could hear him shuffling and moving things around on the first floor so she gave the library one final longing look, with the promise to return, and went downstairs.

In the kitchen, Cassian was putting things away. It looked as though he had been in the middle of doing so when Nesta had first arrived. 

She walked slowly around the grey marble island, taking stock of the groceries and nearly stumbled over a crate of wine at her feet.

“You never answered my question,” she said, plucking a grape from its bunch.

Cassian looked back at her.

Was he really this dumb or was he trying to get under her skin?

“Why aren’t you in France with…your family?”

He shrugged. “Rhys was there because Feyre was. I think he was using the time to look for some real estate opportunities, and since Azriel’s his finance guy, he needed to be there to bless any deals. And Mor…just does whatever she wants, but if you ask her, she’d say as vice president, her role was crucial.”

“Don’t you work for Rhys, too?”

Cassian paused at putting the eggs away. “My company works for Rhys’.”

“Your company? What does it do?” She had to admit, she was a little intrigued and paused to wonder if he had told her this before. Perhaps at some gathering or dinner she had been forced to attend.

The color on Cassian’s ears made her think her suspicions were true. 

“Cyber security.” His answer was curt. 

So she could get under his skin. 

“Like in…hacking and stuff?”

“Something like that.”

Maybe not so dumb after all. 

“And your family asked you to stock the house with provisions in the anticipation of their arrival.”

“I volunteered.”

“But now they’re stuck in Europe and you’re stuck…with me.” It satisfied her to think he might be equally as unhappy as she was with this arrangement.

Cassian turned to her, closing the fridge door behind him. The tension in his shoulders was gone, or perhaps it was never there to begin with. Maybe she had misread his body language because his usual arrogant grin had returned.

“I like to think we’re stuck here together.” He picked up a box of rigatoni. “Hungry?”

There was the tip of his tongue again, poking out of the corner of his smile.

Nesta bristled. “No,” she said before grabbing a banana from the bowl in front of her and turning on her heels to march upstairs.

She hoped she wouldn’t have to deal with him for the rest of the night.

[alchemist-shizun]

Sic itur ad astra?

Read on Ao3!

See the marvelous fanart!

Taglist: @bookwormscififan @be-more-chaotic @logicalberry @softanxiouspatton @pushussmollworld @kim-argent-moon @jeevashun @whizzie72 @jajathelivingmeme @mylifeisadeceit @sometimeswritingsometimesdying

General taglist: (tell me if you want to be added) @whizzie72 @sapphire-knight @burningpersonflapsuitcase

Word Count: 13,024

Characters: (prince!)Roman, (vampire!)Deceit, (mage!)Remus, (kid!)Virgil, (mage!)Logan, (mage!)Patton [These are all sympathetic]

Pairing(s): Roceit, (background) Logicality

Warning(s): Violence, blood, eye and face injury, crying, kissing, toxic parenting, death mention, swearing, locking up

Summary: He could see nothing from his left eye but there was no pain, there was no adjustment to be made because it felt like he had been like that his whole life. In the middle. Between pain and numbness, recovery and illness, sight and blindness. Life and death, light and dark. Because of his condition, all that he was, also wasn’t.

A/N: Holy stars. I did it. Okay Pardon me for taking so long, I realized it was going to be pretty long and I would have never been able to write it in less than a month. This idea originated from this post, but in the end it is really nothing like the Princess and the Frog. If you want easter eggs, check the name meaning of the places! And now, I’ll leave you to your hopefully enjoyable reading.

✾

Amnemoneo Town (Former Dukedom), 1865.

« I believe we reached your destination, sir. »

« I suppose so. »

A young man stood beside the gate of a manor, which was glimmering under the blinding sunlight of a Friday morning.

Baroque keys were placed in his hands while his eyes scanned the vividly emerald gardens that looked like real crystals, and contrasted the obsidian exterior of the manor. The building, decorated with gothic features, dominated the area and stood imposing.

The dark of the night would have made the sight … eerie, for sure. The sound of the carriage taking off brought him back to his senses, he turned to raise his arm in a greeting motion.

« Take care, sir … » he couldn’t hear his name over the rumor of horses’ hooves.

His hands moved swiftly over the lock, as if he had done the same motion daily over the years, one of those things you learnt to do with your eyes closed.

With a twist, the gate was open and he followed the rocky path towards the door. His short boots touched the ground in a consistent but not loud one-two, one-two pace.

Bronze plaques and other decorations beautified the entrance; the handle, picturing a lion’s head as the banality of that age’s symbolism wanted, made the young man smirk.

« How pompous. » he mused, and wondered what kind of high power once ruled over the land. A forgotten one perhaps?

With a twist of the handle to the right and some pulling toward himself, the man was surely not ready for the wondrous sight laid out in front of his eyes.

Not only the rooms were immensely spacious, but the expensive-looking furniture, the flooring and ornaments inside together with the perfect usage of dark and light spaces, made it seem like the world and nature around it existed in function to the manor itself. As if that space had always been meant to stand for that building alone.

The heels of his boots clinked against the marble pavement, his fingertips traced invisible discontinuous lines on the voile and velvet curtains he had started to open up.

He smiled as the house started to come to life.

Exploring new spaces often had this cathartic effect on him, as if he’d locked himself in a quiet small room and he had been in need of fresh air.

And when he stepped into a room, in the far back of the house, with dark curtains covering the entrance, when he heard the slight change of sound in his steps, that was when he allowed himself to look down from the garlands hanged on the walls.

Pulling odd familiarity. It was what he felt, what he was finally aware of sensing as soon as his honey-colored irises set their glare upon the pavement.

Tiny tiles of black, orange and white were the background and a frame for a yellowish skeletal figure, seemingly facing the earth. They were giving their back to the man, venturing in the void in front of themselves.

So he smiled. The pulling energy made him slowly move closer to the mosaic, lowering himself on his knees right next to it. His hand seemed to be moving with a mind of its own, hovering over the air right above the depicted skeleton.

Lower.

Lower.

He touched it and, as expected, nothing happened, except for amusement to wash over him.

Of course, what was he thinking? His fate wasn’t going to be like that, at least for a long while.

That wasn’t how beings like him ended up, trapped in a wooden box six feet under the ground. Most times, they were burned alive through howling screams of inhuman pain.

His smile faded and found himself lying next to the figure, his back on the uncomfortable tiles that dug into his skin.

Sure, he could have focused on the beautiful chandelier on the ceiling, the candles still extinguished from years of neglect.

Instead, his mind traveled toward mysterious paths and his hand went from the mosaic to his upper lip, narrowing his eyes and zoning out.

The tip of his tongue went over his upper teeth, causing his lips to part ever so slightly.

With the same hand now raised above his head, a sunray allowed itself to let his yellow glove glow into its presence. He took it off and his white skin shined along with the black of his nails.

People would have thought he’d have it burned off in a matter of seconds.

Legends were curiously foolish.

The man stood up in an agile movement, leaving the skeletal figure behind the same way the idea of death disappeared from his destiny when he had become a vampire.

« Let’s go get some sunburn. » he joked.

It was extremely painful, seeing how the gardens were practically bared of any kind of plant, the wild flowers that hadn’t yet died already wilting under the weight of their stem.

There was a saying back in his town. “Looking high and looking low”, a reminder of being aware of your surroundings in every situation.

Now, our marquis swore he had been careful.

At least, until the moment in which he only looked up at a cloud right above him, ignoring the acuminated object that he was about to step onto.

He could only face the ground before he shut his eyes in a flash and a metal object gripped half of his face, digging into his skin with a merciless push.

To that, the man contrasted a frantic pulling, removing the object as he felt a liquid substance leave his insides and spread all over his hands and face both.

If it hadn’t been for his pretty decent strength, he would’ve probably taken much longer to take it off. Then again, a human being would have been dead by then.

That wasn’t an option for him.

He clutched his face with his left hand, trembling with shots of pain, that traveled through his entire body.

Eyes squeezed shut, he stumbled in the dark and fell to his knees, seething with every doleful scream that escaped his lips wide apart.

He was hunched over himself, the sun rays hitting his exposed skin felt like violent poles through his neck, as he forced down his left arm and lowered it on his legs.

His non-injured eye tentatively opened to be met with nothing more than the contrast between his black clothes and his lavished white skin.

And …

he got blinded by something flickering on his palm. Did some of the rocks end up on his arm?

The unnamed man went for another try, shielding his eye with his free hand.

Gold.

His vision was dark and red with suffering, but all he could see was gold.

He bit hard at his lower lip, breaking it apart just enough to feel more of that same fluid flowing down. He raised his finger and wiped off some of it.

Again, gold.

His mind raced and, as he fell to the ground, blacking out of exhaustion, he came to a single conclusion.

“Royal blood.”

✾✾✾

And just like that, he was awake. The light was … dimmed. Not because grand part of the day had passed, but he felt like he was in the shade.

Well, that would have certainly helped prevent him from getting sunburnt, in the least.

Hold on a moment. Why was he lying face first in the middle of the garden?

« It’s him. » whispers came from around him, he turned his head and was met with three curious children faces.

Curiosity that soon turned into horror. Disgust.

Two children backed away and ran, like two dashing bolts of lightning, deep into the forest that separated him from the inhabited part of town.

One, though, was still staring at him.

He stared back, narrowing his eyes, confused by their reaction, the shadows that he thought he could see with his left eye – which had yet to focus on the scene – and the fact that he had barely woke from his … what? It wasn’t like he had decided to drop down and take a nap just like that.

« I know there’s someone that can help with that. » the kid in purple simple robes spoke softly, but with the typical high pitched voice of an eight-year-old.

Why wasn’t he able to see clearly from both of his eyes?

« Help? » he hoped they didn’t find out about him so quickly.

« Yes. » the boy had his hands wrapped around the gate bars, his face in between them. « For your scar and your eye. »

Everything came back to him at once, like a kick right to his teeth.

The hit, the pain, the screams.

The golden blood.

His hand went to his cheek and, even through his gloves, he could perceive the uneven section of his skin, as if someone had clawed it away. The left eye could only see shadows of the outside world.

Around him, as inexplicable as it sounds, bushes full of flowers had appeared on the grass where the blood had touched it.

So not only he was a vampire.

« Go away. »

But he now would have to also endure be called a monster.

« Now. » the urgency in his voice matched the harshness in his eyes.

The boy gave him one last glance, visibly more intimidated than earlier, and slowly walked away. He made sure to leave a certain piece of paper on the ground, though. Not because he wanted to litter, of course, the kid had manners!

It was just … in case the man needed him.

And he knew the man wouldn’t have lasted, as everything was going according to plan; before we may carry on with the marquis’ fate, we need to first introduce him.

His name was Remus, and he was a prince.

Hah.

Who are we kidding?

The name was Remus and he held the title of the most unfortunate soul of the kingdom he had wanted to forget the name of for about … as long as he’s had a conscience.

Still not convinced?

Let me tempt you to change your mind by starting from the beginning.

Remus was a duke and it was high time that he dropped in our story. Now, be mindful that we said was and not is.

The town he now lived in was once the Dukedom of Amnemoneo, which may sound familiar for our sharpest readers who were careful of our beginning statement.

Even for them, though, we need to go back to a couple of years earlier, when laws weren’t discarded and superstitions were stronger than a man’s own reason.

1839 was the rampant year of the estimated birth of the prince of Ameleia, an event which was awaited by all the people with profound trepidation: the face of the future ruler had always been a privilege for the world to see as soon as the opportunity presented itself.

What they didn’t know, though, was that they would have been blessed actually by two princes that year. What was wrong with that?

They were twins.

In the kingdom of Ameleia, during that particular age of radical puritanism, having twins was the equivalent of selling your soul to evil external forces of hell.

The thought of the good and evil twin, the angel and the literal Antichrist, it was so deep-rooted in the souls of the people that, despite the royalty’s awareness of how fake those beliefs were, the two brothers were forced to separate.

One destined to be a prince, the other to be the duke of an inconsequential land of the kingdom.

The good and the evil.

Only that, the dukedom wasn’t exactly … standing out in any field. Misery had started to pour down on its citizens which led to, eventually, fall into the pit of seemingly non-existent lands that the kingdom had forgotten about.

The sovereigns had also tried to forget Remus.

Judging by how often they made sure he was still alive, which was zero times since they parted ways as he was still a child to be raised by servants in the dukedom’s manor, they had probably made it, too.

So, just like that, when misery had devastated the town so much that any existent title fell and Remus found himself at sixteen locked out of his manor behind the woods, the servants declared their retirement to major families and parted ways with him once and for all. But most of all, he felt the utmost loneliness.

People in town didn’t know much about him, he was aware of his condition, but had always been refrained from talking about it with anyone other than the servants in the building he hardly ever left.

Until one day, around his- their eighteenth birthday.

He had tried his best to survive in the oblivion of poverty, he lived in an abandoned shop; Remus wasn’t exactly aware of how many rats he had crossed paths with while stumbling around the tiny rooms. Not to mention the cats that, seldom, decided to invade his vital space and scare him out of his life when they woke him up by hopping on his chest.

He should have considered windows, had there been any shop of that kind in town.

Don’t even get the people started on food, the subject that made the worst come out of them.

He had tried to go out in a moment that wasn’t the dark of the night. It didn’t exactly go as he had wished.

In front of him, two imposing royal guards blocked his way out of the door. Their faces edgy, expressions hard and eyes dull. It took him a moment to recognize them. Were they going to take him back? After all those years of neglect?

He flinched as both the men unsheathed their swords at him.

« Woah, nice to see you again, too. »

« Silence! » now who were they to behave like that in front of a person of such importance?

« Excuse me? Alright, I might look raveled but a couple of years rotting would do that to anyone. Even a prince like m- »

« Silence. » another repeated.

And hit Remus in the stomach with the hilt of his sword-

The boy contorted with pain with a hand on his stomach and the other on the ground, to alleviate his fall.

His mind raced trying to give himself a reason for their attitude. Two soldiers in disguise? Had he done something illegal? Did they mistake him for someone else?

His ears were ringing, but the only thing he actually heard was his mind going why, why, why, why?

« The royalty is coming. »

Remus regained that tiny bit of strength to look up at them and spoke with a broken voice. « Y-You mean my parents? »

A kick came to his face and he decided against speaking any further.

« Prince Roman is going to visit the Royal Manor, too. »

Oh, and who exactly cared?  Just another name in the “people that turned their back on you their whole life” list.

Why was he bothering to show up after eighteen years?

« And you, » the taller guard leaned down, spitting out his words. « Won’t be allowed out of this place until he leaves. Clear? »

Remus could only eye him from the ground he had been trying to get up from. « Crystal. » he muttered, without missing his sarcastic tone as the two men left.

So his parents were embarrassed of him to the point of not showing up in his presence? Big deal. Who cared?

He ended up spending a week of almost literal imprisonment before he was let out.

There was no living soul able to tell how he managed to survive. The boredom, though, had brought him to actually clean the place around for once and find out about its origins.

It happened when a singular book stood out of a shelf, as if eager to be picked up. Remus did as it desired. Pages flipped in front of his eyes before he had been able to touch a single scrap of paper and he was directed to a particular segment of a paragraph which seemed to be handwritten years earlier, before the former owner left the place.

Magic antiques were the only readable words.

After some looking around – and a myriad of unrecognizable unknown objects inside cabinets – he decided he was going to get to the bottom of it.

Thus the years spent into mastering the Art of Transfiguration all the bookshelves of the abandoned shop seemed to offer.

Of course, mistakes happened almost constantly at first, especially the permanent one that turned a streak of his hair white: he had been trying to recite a formula to turn one of the rats into an inanimate object.

He ended up transforming himself into a white animal, but that was beyond the point and he wasn’t going to bring that up to anyone. He’d have preferred to fake a heart wrenching and tragic backstory.

And, well, when he heard of the northern man coming to town on the same period of time as Roman used to yearly come back for some reason, when Remus learnt to automatically lock himself in his shop, an idea dawned on him.

And with it, he was sure he was going to get his Manor back.

That was the reason why, when he saw a boy in purple robes walking with a couple of kids in the deserted streets, mumbling about the gossip going around on the newcomer, he carefully approached with a piece of paper in his hand.

« Hello there, children. » he crouched down at their eye level. « Do you want to know a secret about him? »

And children? Well, they were far too gullible. What was even better about it was when fate was on your side; fate that, in that moment, had the name of a certain metallic trap he had left in the middle of the manor’s garden he hadn’t seen in years.

Everything was falling into place.

✾✾✾

Just like Roman thought earlier that day as both he and the newcomer had just arrived in town.

He had been walking around towards a lesser known path he used to take to reach a certain family’s residence.

That was when Roman saw him, standing next to an open carriage led by a pair of black horses that seemed to sternly stare him down.

He was … odd. Unlikely to be common part of the citizens, the man stood out compared to the commoners roaming in the streets and he was unable to tear his eyes off of him.

Unknown, however, kept his back facing the prince, as he helped the coachman heave up a bag on the carriage. He moved with delicacy even while stretching his muscles.

Roman wondered for a moment if he were living some kind of lucid dream.

Since there was no way for him to turn his head 360°, he forced himself to keep his gaze straight ahead and forget about that crystalline laughter he just so happened to overhear while walking on to other side of the road.

And, oh, what a particularly handsome look he portrayed with his features and-

Right, the household.

Blood that just overflowed left his cheeks and he crossed the hidden path: it was pretty weird how none, apart from the family he was about to visit, in that town seemed to recognize him. Still, his parents were always eager to remind him to let himself be seen the less he could, ever since he had decided to travel to Amnemoneo alone.

« Ro-bro! »

Roman’s head snapped up and a huge smile automatically spread on his lips, recognizing whose voice it was in an instant. He was only able to see a flash of purple running towards him as tiny arms were lacing around his waist.

A kid’s face looked up at him, big lilac eyes boring into his own.« You’re back! »

« Of course I am, Vivi. »

« I told you not to call me that. » the kid whined, frowning at him and loosening a bit of his embrace.

« Alright, alright, as you wish, my lord. » Roman lowered only to pick him up from under his shoulders.

« That’s a better title. » no ten-year-old should have been able to have that kind of sarcasm.

Roman scoffed. « I should tell Logan and Patton to stop spoiling you. »

« Falsehood! »

The prince couldn’t help but laugh as the kid mimicked his father, failing in sounding as serious as him. Roman held his hand out to the boy.

« Come on Virgil, let’s go in. »

✾✾✾

He loved visiting his friends. When he surpassed the limit between the street and the gate of their property, a welcoming warmth washed over him and he felt at home, like he’d always belonged there, a mystical comfort that eased up whatever worries concerned him.

Patton was to blame for picking up a few tricks from his wizard husband, for sure.

Roman knocked on the door and it didn’t take long for Patton’s arms to be wrapped around him with a gasp.

« Woah, hey buddy. » the prince stumbled backwards before releasing his friend.

« We sensed you were coming. » Patton confessed, pointing behind himself where Logan was standing, smiling and waving a hand in their direction.

Roman waved back, amused. « I literally can’t hide anything from you, can I? »

They invited him, basically being pushed and pulled by both Virgil and Patton, excitedly, towards a certain cake they all helped to make (especially Virgil for the little precise decorations.) in honor of his birthday.

Everything in their home sparked a magical energy: Logan had always been a mage in the shadows, careful not to be discovered thanks to his profession as biologist and doctor, in some way. After Patton made his way into his life, magic started being part of him, too. The barrier around their home was his doing, it kept away people with malevolent intentions and let the other ones be welcomed in a soft invisible embrace.

As for Virgil … they didn’t really talk about that. Roman knew something about a scientific experiment and a reject they found. He knew they had saved him and given him a life. But the kid wasn’t ready to know the truth yet, so it wasn’t a topic to bring up.

« Oh, speaking of which. » Logan lowered the cup he was bringing to his lips. « Did you hear of the marquis moving to town today? »

Roman snapped back to reality. « He’s a marquis? »

« You saw him?! » Virgil leaned forward with wide eyes and curiosity written all over his face.

All gazes were set on him. « Well, I believe I might have seen him before coming here. » the memory of the man’s figure flashed in his mind. « He didn’t look like he was from town. » Roman didn’t mention his other considerations.

« Are you going to marry him? »

Children and their perfectly embarrassing questions. But there was definitely nothing awkward about it, was there? He didn’t even know the man.

« Calm down, Vi, that’s not how it works. » Logan softly pushed him back against his seat to sit up straight.

« But he has a title, like Ro-bro. Isn’t it logical? »

He smiled. « Well- »

« You have to admit, » Patton chimed in, repressing a giggle. « Virgil has a point. »

Virgil turned to Logan with a toothy grin, a silent “see?” was understood between the two of them.

« Why don’t you ask Roman about it? »

« Yes. » the prince admitted with a defeated sigh. « I was planning on bringing him here to announce our engagement but you had to ruin that! » he faked an accusing tone.

« That’s what you get for betraying me! You said you were going to make me a prince. » Virgil pouted and Roman really had to stop himself from pinching his cheeks.

He stood up and approached him, crouching down next to his seat. « Let me tell you a secret. » he began stage whispering. « I can still do that, when I am king, you can become my prince son!  Come with me and run away from these two oldies. »

A chorus of “excuse you?” followed with the other two’s laughter.

As hours flew by and Virgil left to play with some friends, Roman found himself back at the front door, which was being held for him.

« Are you sure you don’t want to stay and eat something? » Patton searched the prince’s face with instinctual concern.

« You know it’s not a problem for us to conjure a seat for you. Or anything else, if you desire to stay. » added Logan, with a tone softer than usual.

Roman had always found endearing how protective they were of him: before they settled in Amnemoneo, they used to meet each other quite often. Logan and Patton seemed to be on every path Roman had to cross and, eventually, they grew attached to each other.

Then again, the prince visited their town every year around his birthday, in a sort of tradition, to have a little theatrical representation in his honor.

Only that he had to be given permission to occupy the manor, so …

« I must go to the town hall, to check the availability of the building, same old required formalities. » Roman half-smiled. « Thank you, regardless. »

And exchanging goodbyes, off he was, unaware of the fact that he had to make yet another trip to the building which was occupied by our beloved marquis.

✾✾✾

A beloved marquis who had left that same building a couple of hours earlier than when the prince had gone to the town hall.

He was … defeated. So, he surrendered to the will of persuasion and picked up the piece of paper left at the gates by the purple clothed kid.

A visiting card?

Looking like this, it was unlikely for him to show himself with the sun still shining up above in the surprisingly limpid sky. It would have rendered his scarred face just as clear to the ones roaming mindlessly in town.

For some reason, most of the population seemed to aimlessly wander about all the time, in a state of daze.

Was anybody actually going to notice his presence at all?

As if pulled by an outer force that had already made up his mind, the man crumpled up the paper card in his hand he clutched to his chest and moved through the forest like it was his second home.

He dragged his feet between the crunch of autumn leaves and the damp grass still suffering from the rain of the day before. His fingertip brushed the injured side of his face a second time.

And he felt nothing.

He could see nothing from his left eye but there was no pain, there was no adjustment to be made because it felt like he had been like that his whole life. In the middle. Between pain and numbness, recovery and illness, sight and blindness.

Life and death, light and dark.

Because of his condition, all that he was, also wasn’t.

So when he hurt himself to the point of almost mortally wounding himself, he also didn’t. The bleeding stopped in no time and the injury only left an ugly mark.

But, of course, on top of that, he had to discover he had golden blood. Royal blood, which meant not only sharper senses and abilities than average of his kind, but also an overly deadly power roaming in his insides.

Maybe that was why, years earlier, that old woman inexplicably died the day after she wiped his face clear of tears and offered him shelter. One of the many places he had to run away from.

The marquis had no time to ponder about his condition, as his feet stopped right in front of the entrance of his destination.

« Well, well, well, what have we here. »

He looked to his left and saw a man hanging upside down from the opened window, looking amused in his direction.

« I didn’t expect you so soon. You didn’t leave me time to make myself presentable! »

In all honesty, he had to agree. That other man looked … absolutely disheveled, as if he had dressed in the dark and hadn’t looked in a mirror for a lifetime.

Not that most of the citizens here didn’t send the same aura.

He looked down to the visiting card. « You’re Remus? »

« The one, » he began, moving swiftly from the window to the door he opened right after, stepping aside to let the man see the desert inside. « And lonely. » he theatrically bowed.

The marquis was then pulled in by Remus, who shut the door behind them and led them to a counter at the centre of the modest room.

« Now, let’s see. » he flipped through the pages of an enormous tome. « A curious spell for our particular vampire. »

The man’s eyes widened in shock.

« Wh- » he was met with a smirk. « How- » the marquis backed away, the utmost fright rising in his chest. His back touched the shelf against the wall.

« Aw, now, fear not, my dear foreigner. » Remus let the door open with a swift movement of his wrist. « You can leave, if you so desire. »

The newcomer eyed him warily. There was no way that wasn’t a trap.

Remus tilted his head and contorted his mouth. « You don’t want to? Fine with me. »

« Wait. »

« I’ll make you leave … as a newer person than how you entered! »

The marquis’ eyes were blinded by a flashing light that seemed to have completely devoured him.

He felt his body shrink, twist and contort under the weight of a thousand formulas that were operating on his form.

A thundering headache caught his forehead and he curled on himself until he couldn’t feel his limbs anymore, his eyes squeezed shut.

When he was able to open them again, he recognized exactly in what condition he ended up.

Remus had turned him into a bat.

But wait, he was already able to do that, what was the usefulness behind that?

He tried to get back to his human body.

And tried.

And tried again.

Nothing happened.

Dear god.

« Hope you enjoy your whole new life, special costumer, and remember, » Remus managed to drive the bat out of his shop. « No take-backs! » he slammed the door shut.

And the marquis flew away frantically for his life, which was probably going to change forever.

Only that he didn’t know it was because the encounter he was about to have at the manor.

✾✾✾

Gosh, that was inconvenient!

Roman played with the lock at the gates, going over the bass-relief decorated on top. The consistency of the material noted that a very long time had passed since someone had inhabited the place. Yet, now there seemed to be someone?

Waiting for them was the right thing to do and not totally creepy, right?

Ri-?

Like a flock of ravens storming away in the morning from the local farmer’s terrain, Roman heard an erratic drumming of wings toward his general direction and ducked whatever was coming down at him.

There was a thud and a screech before the prince was able to spot a barely moving bat lying painfully on the ground.

« Oh. » Roman stood in his place for a few seconds. « Oh, dear. » he crouched down next to the animal, which appeared to be a diurnal bat.

Perhaps it had gotten lost?

« Hey, little one- woah! » it tried to move, as if in fear of his presence, when Roman’s hand motioned toward its body.

He examined it to look for a way to heave it up and his eyes fell on the left wing. The broken tissue was tangled in a leaf on the ground.

« Oh, you poor thing! » there had always been this complex but profound understanding when it came to animals: he felt like they had some kind of connection with him.

As he leaned over the bat, he could almost feel its pain. He had to help.

Roman tried to pacify it by speaking softly, while he attentively eased it in his hands. He had a single place in mind.

« No panic, little friend. » he whispered, mostly to himself, biding his farewell to the manor and the unseen marquis behind himself. « We’re going to get you all better in no time. »

He had to find Logan again.

✾✾✾

« Did you change your mind? » Patton abruptly cut off as Roman stormed into his and Logan’s home for the second time that day.

« I require a hand. » the prince announced, approaching Logan who had been eyeing him since he entered the room. « A scientific one, if that’s possible. » Roman added, showing the animal cupped in his hands.

The bat tried to stretch both wings, failing miserably.

« That’s odd. »

« Huh? »

Logan searched for something specific none but him could name. « This is an adult bat and yet he seems to not have adjusted to his body entirely. » without taking his eyes off the creature, he moved them both towards the table Logan used for his experiments and works. « Furthermore, there’s no such thing as bat hunting here. And yet it looks like something might have scared him. Plus, there are no bats around here. »

The animal was laid on a piece of cloth on the table’s surface and the doctor started taking his tools out.

A pair of curious eyes stared from the other side of the room.

« Do you want to assist, Virgil? » Logan looked at him with the corner of his eyes, offering him a smile. The kid beamed and rushed to his side, while Roman observed their work from the other side of the table, Patton joining them shortly after.

« Be careful, please. » Roman stared in anticipation at the bat, as if expecting to feel pain in an empathetic sort of link.

Logan stopped and glanced at him through his glasses, a grin on his lips. « You still emotional over animals? »

« Shut your mouth and do your magical science. »

Though he was baffled at the oxymoron, Logan complied regardless, with Virgil handing him what he needed at his side.

It didn’t take long before Patton and Virgil were the only ones left in the room to tend to the creature as the other two discussed the happening over coffee.

« Could you imagine if he could talk? » the kid abruptly turned to his father. « He would tell us what he was escaping from. »

Patton made a humming sound, considering the idea. « Well, there might be a way. » he conceded, opening a small notebook and flipping through the pages. When he found the right spell, he turned to look at his son.

« Just for a couple of minutes, okay? » a mischievous but child-like smile formed on Virgil’s lips, satisfied.

That one was the exact moment in which all of our stories converged.

With Patton’s magic flickering in the room and toiling with the chains of the incommunicability between two beings that don’t talk the same language.

« Hey, Mr. Bat, you can talk now! »

« Oh, can I? » a sarcastic satin voice broke the anticipation. « Wait. Was that me? » the marquis’ day was already so weird, that might as well have happened too.

« This is so cool! It worked! » Virgil leaned enthusiastically over the animal, which was questioning the insanity of his earlier choice. Not that he could do much else.

« What worked? » Logan’s voice sounded hurried across the room.

« Oops. »

Patton revealed a sly smile to his husband, pretending they did nothing big like giving a previously non sentient creature the ability to speak.

At least they thought he wasn’t sentient before.

« What’s going on? »

« Virgil? »

« Patton! »

« Excuse me! » all those present turned their heads toward the source of sound, who was none else but the animal himself. « I believe I might be the most perplexed one in here. »

Logan sighed deeply and approached the table. « I apologize … » he stopped, unsure of how he should have carried on. « How do you address a bat? »

« Let me do the talking. » Roman shoved him aside, the buzzing feeling of his connection to the animal lingered. « Greetings, amiable creature. It just so happens that- »

« It’s you. » the bat stared intensely in Virgil’s direction after heaving himself up the best he could.

« Huh? » was all the kid could say.

« You gave me the card. You told me he would have helped. I wouldn’t actually call this helping, you know? »

Then, it dawned on Virgil. « You’re the marquis? »

« Precisely, somehow. »

Everybody’s behavior seemed to change at that; the kid realized his mistake, Roman slowly backed away in sudden shyness while Patton and Logan connected the dots.

« You sent him to Remus? » both of them demanded in unison, surprised. They had warned him plenty of times in the past not to approach the man’s shop: it wasn’t exactly because they believed him to be wicked, as they had never interacted, but any magician was at war with another unless stated otherwise. It seemed to be an unspoken rule, none was to be trusted.

« You know him? » the man, now bat, felt hope rise in his chest.

« Barely. » Patton admitted. « His shop has this weird peculiarity which causes it to change place within the town every day. He doesn’t seem to be bothered, but it’d surely be a pain to find him now. »

If bats could sigh in defeat, the marquis had just done that.

« Let’s start from the beginning. » Logan gathered some chairs with a swift movement of his wrist. « What exactly happened to you? »

Ah. That was going to be fun.

How to tell your story in detail while leaving out the plot points that determine that you’re a vampire while talking to four most likely intelligent people that could connect the dots in no time?

Truly a piece of cake for our favorite man of town, wasn’t it?

I came here, I contemplated my dead life on a mosaic, I injured myself with- I actually still have no idea what it was, a bunch of children saw me, your son handed me this visiting card, I went there and this charming guy had the nerve to transform me into a bat to solve my aesthetical issue.

Nailed it.

Okay, maybe that wasn’t exactly what he told them, but it was around there more or less.

Fortunately, they didn’t ask further questions; the real issue presented itself when Logan pointed out the hex Remus had thrown on the marquis was too powerful for his own magic.

After some discussing, they resigned to having to find him and force him to reverse the spell. Of course, in the meantime, Roman was the one to offer himself to help the bat in their mission.

« Oh! Are you going to marry him as a bat now? »

Roman sprinted out of the house with the animal in his hands as he heard a “What was that?” coming from him.

✾✾✾

« It must be tough, this whole situation I mean. To you. Finding yourself randomly flying at once. » Roman had no idea where all his eloquence had gone to, while he kept the bat steady on his shoulder.

They were on their way to the manor, just a few meters away from the gates, so that they could have made their plan to reach Remus while also arranging the place for the theater production.

Which was also never going to take place.

But Roman didn’t know that.

« Not really. » the marquis responded. « It’s easy to adjust to this condition. » he also was quick to add, as there were no means of explaining to the prince of the truth about his identity.

Mostly for his safety.

« Well then, that’s good. »

Awkward silence followed until the gates presented themselves to their eyes, now only a meter away. Of course, as the man’s body disappeared with his belongings, the key was gone too.

He guided Roman to a clearing in the bushes he had noticed before the inevitable had happened.

« Oh! That’s pretty. » the prince immediately marched towards a group of flowers seemingly put in a random disposition.

The marquis didn’t remember them being there.

He did remember golden blood, though.

« Wait! »

Roman halted altogether, confusion written all over his face. « They’re not going to eat me, sir. » he commented, as he crouched down in front of them.

« Please, you need to listen to me. » an urgent tone filled the silence of the gardens. « They weren’t there before. » an half-lie. « Knowing what happened to me, we better not touch anything else. » to preserve oneself.

Still baffled that simple plants could hurt anyone, Roman complied and slowly rose to his feet. His new direction was the wooden doors and, ultimately, that one very comfortable-looking sofa right in the middle of the vast living room.

The bat was placed on top of the coffee table and Roman leaned forward with his elbows on his knees to give him more attention.

In all honesty, he knew that was actually that tremendously handsome marquis he saw earlier that day, but gosh darn if he didn’t have the urge to pet the little animal every time he looked at him. Not his fault if he looked soft, now.

The prince cleared his throat. « Alright. The production can wait until we’ve found a way to turn you back. What do we know about Remus until now? »

« His spells are irreversible unless he’s the one to break them. »

« No asking Logan or Patton for help, then. »

« His shops shows up at random places at random times. »

« Unpredictable locations, we’d need to search the whole town every day. »

« He also looks a bit like you. »

Roman did a double take. « I’m sorry? »

If bats could shrug, the prince was sure he had just done that. « I’m just stating what I know about him. » he was given an odd look. « Don’t you worry, your majesty, you still win in attractiveness if that concerns you. »

And there Roman was, getting flustered because of a bat.

A handsome bat in person though.

He meant the person, of course.

Was he ever going to stop thinking about-

« I’m sure you do, too. »

« What was that? »

What the hell, Roman?

« Nothing! » he dramatically got up opening his arms. « So yeah, planning. »

« Sure. » the man didn’t sound convinced.

« The moment you heal your wing, you could fly up above the place so we can find the shop sooner. Until then, I could stay here and keep the rumors about your disappearance down by focusing the chattering on me, rather than you. »

« Am I wrong to believe you have a natural instinct of putting yourself in the spotlight or …? »

« Absurd. I am merely sacrificing my image to protect yours. » the ghost of a grin painted Roman’s lips.

« Oh, I am more than honored to be blessed by such generosity. » a giggle filled the room.

« I will grant you my protection. »

« I must thank you for your kindness, your Royal Highness. »

They would soon find to absolutely love that kind of bantering.

✾✾✾

Things … developed from there.

Between walks in town, with the bat rigorously on Roman’s shoulder and his claws gripping tight on his clothes, talks about their favorite interests.

Chasing.

They had almost made it once. They had seen a suspicious figure roaming in the narrowest streets. The man they saw had immediately pulled up his hood at their sight and vanished in the darkness of a dead end.

Underwhelmed by the event, they had called it a day and withdrawn to the manor.

That was when the marquis found out Roman actually recited lines from plays he had never heard out loud when dreadful feelings caught him.

He would lie on a mattress and throw an arm over his eyes. Then, his voice did the magic. He didn’t even need his body to express his emotions, already clear with the tone he used.

And yet, he whispered. He almost only mouthed them, but in his head, they were perfect.

To the bat’s ears, they were divine, to say the least.

Theatre was something they occasionally talked about, starting from the production that should have taken place in that very building, to every little piece of memory Roman held dear of plays he’d seen in his past.

He noticed his eyes shining bright as he jumped between different specks of his life, the excitement in his storytelling intensified every day more.

And with it, also the marquis’ … appreciation for the prince.

All the little details changed in his point of view as the weeks fled.

For instance, goodness, did he like his singing.

It was as if Roman went from reciting troubled monologues when sad, to singing his heart out in his happiest moments. And it was beautiful.

« Hold me. Whatever lies beyond this morning is a little later on. Regardless of warnings, the future doesn’t scare me at all. Nothing’s like before. »

When his wing had started to heal so much that he could fly a little, he often rushed to reach the prince and see the show.

And at some point, especially as Roman noticed him, he started partaking in them too.

Although he didn’t have a single idea on how acting worked and often ended up just mesmerized by Roman’s voice and the beauty that shined in him when he explained plots and intricate points with a fiery passion.

If somebody had asked him, he wouldn’t have been able to tell which was the exact moment where he developed feelings for the young prince.

Maybe upon hearing his giggling in the forest, while walking towards town. Maybe when he discovered yet another of his talents. Or maybe when he mixed singing with acting in the most splendid of exhibitions he had ever witnessed.

He had definitely come to terms with it when a thought dawned on him, the thought of having to leave him once his body was back. It ate away at his stomach, it was as if something inside him told him he should have stayed that way forever, if it meant keeping the prince by his side.

He didn’t want to lose him anymore.

Getting his body back would have meant having to part ways forever. The marquis knew he had to leave as soon as he could have. And it simply and utterly sucked.

He also knew he should’ve gotten rid of those feelings, none would have agreed to keep up with his lifestyle anyway.

Constantly on the run and go.

As he watched him dance alone in the mosaic room, he recognized that no, that wasn’t going to happen anytime soon.

✾✾✾

For Roman, it was a little different.

Sure, he had always thought that the bat looked kind of adorable, but he couldn’t shake off the realization that he had seen the marquis’s human body. He knew what he looked like and it was kinda like he was hugging him constantly when he kept him in his hands, close to his chest.

And it wasn’t like he actually wanted to change that, once the issue was over.

Though, the thought of that made his heartbeat a tiny bit faster than usual, which made him an awful lot more flustered, as if he had just told the person concerned.

The feeling didn’t vanish with time, but only strengthened.

He couldn’t even imagine his baffled expression as the marquis trailed off in one of their conversations as he started talking about issues deep within the human soul.

The bat’s immense knowledge of both psychology and philosophy was to be admired, maybe the biggest Roman had ever encountered even between the royals around him.

There were some literary circles, but sometimes human sciences were frowned upon and the royalty was denied any kind of education on them.

« Roman? » the marquis had called out to the man lying on the couch in front of him.

Who was, at the moment, inexorably asleep with his face in his arms.

He was going to apologise about that for the rest of his life, but hey, when you’re tired, you’re tired.

It was also pretty endearing how he woke up to a blanket messily laid onto his body.

What demoralised him, despite all the giddiness in his stomach, was when he noticed the marquis seemed to be keeping something from him. Nothing he could pinpoint exactly, yet he knew there was a topic he brushed off.

Mostly when he talked about his family.

Nothing came out of those conversations, which led Roman to think of the worst: he couldn’t imagine what kind of relationship he must have or have had with his parents, or what sort of situation he was in.

What he was sure about was that he felt for him.

Felt happiness around him, empathy when the other was down, sorrow in words never spoken but events that had already happened and scarred the marquis’s heart.

He felt way deeper than how he felt for other people.

Thus, he could recognize that, ultimately, he fell for him, too.

✾✾✾

When you look for the perfect sign, you tend to withdraw until the right occasion presents itself.

« Goodness, » Roman laughed quietly in the kitchen, turned to the cupboards on the wall. « It seems people started spreading rumors about me being a vampire because they saw you on my shoulder. »

And when that happens, an anxious buzzing starts shaking your insides.

« That … would be a shame. » the bat looked down, unsure of his own words.

« Why would that be? » Roman turned with curiosity. « Sure, I’d lose some colour, but heightened senses? Amazing powers? »

« That depends. »

« How so? »

« Blood chaste. How you were turned. The assets of the vampire that turned you or gave birth to you. »

The prince smiled through pursed lips. « Seems like someone read a dark ancient book from the Index of forbidden books. »

« Well … » and the buzzing grew louder. « I can talk from experience, too. »

He waited for the realization to hit.

« W-wait. Do you mean you met them, or …? »

He sighed the same way a bat could. « It is not a curse, Roman, you can say it. But yes, the latter. »

What he was also waiting for was fear. Disgust. Rejection. Anything but whatever crossed the prince’s mind.

« Oh my- »

« I know- »

« -I haven’t been giving you proper food for weeks! »

What now?

The man wasn’t sure whether he thought it or actually said it out loud.

« How long can you go without blood? It’s been six weeks tomorrow, oh dear, you must be starving. » Roman put his hands on his hair. He had this instinctual habit of worrying for others’ well-being before actually thinking rationally about the situation around him.

Maybe it was his princely duties to make him think that way, maybe he really didn’t want to think about the wonderland he felt like he stepped into when he realized he fell in love- he fancied a vampire.

Actually, a myriad of thoughts swirled in his head.

« I- No, I’m perfectly fine. My blood chaste is the highest, meaning I can go a very long time without drinking. »

« Oh. »

« You don’t have to … worry? » the marquis tried.

“But I always worry about you” was what Roman wanted to answer.

« Are you, like, some kind of royal in your chaste? » that was when they started traveling down dangerous paths.

« Sort of. I only just found that out, when I bled because of the garden trap. » the marquis remembered how confused he felt at the glimmering liquid on his hand.

Roman’s voice and expression both softened up. « You … don’t know who turned you? »

« Honestly, I only have a name. It’s kind of complicated. »

« Very well then, » Roman placed a cup of hot flaming tea on the surface of the table, not too far away from the bat. He sat down. « I’m willing to understand. »

The marquis took a deep breath and paused, sorting out the thoughts in his head.

« I’m from a country in the north. You may think I’m wealthy because of my title, but its value is actually nonexistent. My parents barely had anything to survive and … well, when they felt their life slowly fade away, they knew I wasn’t going to make it on my own. Barely anyone in my town would have been able to. »

« Apparently, they had someone they could rely on. The only thing I know is his name is Thomas … » he paused. Maybe he should’ve gone to look for him ever since. « They had told me to open a box as soon as things went wrong. Inside, I found a vial and a letter with all the instructions. I followed them and prepared myself before, well, committing to the act. After that, I learnt everything I needed to know and started to look for different places to stay. »

The bat seemed to shrug. Roman had now his arms crossed on the table and his face half-buried in them, paying careful attention. He also wanted to hide the frown in his face.

« And now I’m here. »

« I wish- » the prince instantly commented, rising from his slouched position. « I don’t know. I just wish we would take better care of every single spot under our reign. »

« Roman. » the marquis spoke in a reprimanding but softer tone. « Both you and I know that’s impossible nowadays. »

« It still should be my duty to not let things like these happen. » he looked to the side. « But does the assembly ever listen to me? Absolutely not. You have no idea how many times I’ve told them about how we could change this town for the better. I’ve been rejected at any given prompt. »

Were he an actual human at the moment, Roman would have probably seen the compassion flooding the man’s face.

« I really don’t get it. It’s that simple! » the prince opened his arms. « And then- and then something like this happens. » he pointed to the bat. « Because people have no other choice, thanks to us. »

« It isn’t a wrong choice, though. » a pair of perplexed eyes set on him. « I mean, to some extent, I’m still alive. And I think, with the right knowledge and time to adjust, it isn’t so bad after all. »

« Well … »

« No, I’m serious. You might need to change your life, but years after you know your routine. And I don’t have to worry about many other issues I was constantly anxious about before. »

A small smile crept on Roman’s lips at that. « You sure? »

« I’m fine, Ro. Really. »

The prince considered, staring at the marquis with his head tilted to the side. There had to be something else he could have done, apart from giving him back his body. Something that could have assured his safety, to say the least.

Roman wished to erase all of his concerns.

« I want you to find a place where you can stay until it doesn’t fascinate you anymore. » he gave voice to his musings. « Maybe … you could come with me when we’re done here? » he suggested, slowly brightening as ideas formed in his mind. The theatre production didn’t matter anymore, anyway.

« How so? »

« A prince always has his ways. There are infinite possibilities! Think about it, I know where everyone is all the time, I would know where to keep you. My parents don’t even remember the servants’ faces. »

« Oh, to be a humble servant in love with the prince. » the bat mocked.

« In love? » Roman repeated, amusement in his expression. And a very invisible and sudden twist of his heart.

« For sure. »

Jokes on them.

« Well then, my humble servant. » the prince got up and moved the cup of tea he definitely didn’t forget on the counter and walked towards the door of the room. « We have a big day ahead so I’m going to rest. You should try to get some sleep too since you won’t tomorrow. »

« How many times do I have to say bats aren’t strictly a nightly species? »

« One more, please. »

When their laughter was done, Roman lingered on the entrance.

« Thank you for opening up to me. And … please consider what I told you, okay? »

« I will. » the man answered warmly.

With that, they were both left to their sleepless night, daydreaming about possibilities they hoped could come real.

But the marquis had already made up his mind.

✾✾✾

His blood ran cold as he felt the tip of a sword being pointed to his back. Well, fucking shit.

« Hello there, is the shop open? » Remus knew exactly whose voice that was despite the fact that he had never heard it once in his entire life.

When he turned, he was met with none else but the prince’s figure standing tall behind him, while a tiny bat sat attentive on his shoulder. Of course.

Remus got up, his hood still covering the majority of his face.

« To what do I owe the pleasure? »

« No playing around. » Roman demanded, serious in his tone and eyes. He stared at Remus as he moved, sword raising with every movement. « Change my friend back this instant. »

Oh, marvelous. They were friends now, how could he have not taken that into account?

« Sorry, business is closed at the moment. » he retorted, spitting his words out. The sword flew to his chin in an instant.

« Are you sure about that? » venom, nothing but venom, more than the marquis had ever felt in his own body.

Remus sighed and eventually lowered his hood, revealing his identity once and for all. « You sure do know how to have fun, my dearest brother. »

And Roman almost dropped his weapon on the ground.

He had called him what now?

The prince went quickly over the facial features of the man in front of his eyes, it felt like looking at his own mirror, minus the facial hair and the white streak.

Or the dark circles around his eyes and the pale almost ill-looking skin.

Maybe it felt actually like looking at a mirror that showed an alternate life in which all he had found was misery. And he couldn’t help but be overwhelmed by a sense of pity.

« We’re- You- I’m sorry. I apologize. I’m … I’m confused. »

Remus arched an eyebrow. « Confused? What’s there to explain? »

« How in the world I have never known I had a twin brother, for instance. » Roman placed the bat on a stable surface next to him, afraid he would have made him fall as his entire body seemed to be trembling with an overflow of emotions.

What was happening?

« Never known? » the former duke opened his arms. « Hadn’t you refrained from acknowledging me this whole time? »

« What? » the prince’s mind was racing. « I’d never do that! I don’t even know your name! » tears welled up in his eyes from frustration. He had to keep it together, gosh why was it so difficult?

« Okay, okay. Hold on a second. »

« The bat talks? »

« I know. Mages. »

« Both of you, sit down. » the marquis demanded, seriousness fading as, sadly, his size didn’t help in making him believable enough.

The two brothers complied anyway.

« Now, you may take turns in speaking. »

« Yeah, what the hell happened? Mom and dad never gave you the evil twin speech? »

Roman shrugged in confusion. « I guess not. I promise to you, I was grown to believe to be an only child. They never told me about you … I guess that’s the reason why they never wanted me to come here alone in the first place. Have you always been here? »

« Since I can recall. » Remus nodded, his mind traveling as far back as it could. « This wasn’t a town at first. It was my dukedom. But our beloved parents destroyed it before I could even reach the age of ruling. I lived here with some servants, but they left as soon as they declared negated all the titles in this land. I was locked out of the manor and I tried to survive on my own from there. » the rage in his brother’s chest filled the gap in his childhood that could have been taken by his time with Remus.

« Every time you came here, I was locked inside my shop for days. As you can see, I got bored and studied whatever magical stuff was in there and this is where I ended up. » he pointed to the bat who was staring at them.

« This is insane! » Roman talked still in disbelief.

« You can say our parents may be two pieces of shit. »

« Doing this only to protect their image? » the prince seemed to be talking to himself, until he turned to his brother again. « I’m sorry on their behalf. I literally have no words to describe how awful I feel. » he rested his face in his hands and sighed deeply. What was there to say? It’s not like he could have done much else with no knowledge of his existence.

Then, an idea.

« We’re going to get your manor back. »

« Huh? »

« And the dukedom. I’ll make sure to restore your titles. Unless you don’t want to come back as a prince, as it should be your right. »

Remus considered the possibilities, he did want to get at least his early decent life back, but … the idea of his parents in front of his eyes and constantly around him didn’t sit right with him.

« I’ll … think about it? » his gaze stopped on the bat. « What about him? »

« Believe me, if you turn me back right now I can leave the entire town to your own needs. »

He chuckled. Ah, the sweet sound of desperation.

Remus focused just that itty bit he needed, before muttering a spell under his breath and sending a green flicker to hit the animal’s body.

And that was it.

As if nothing had ever happened, there the actual marquis stood, in flesh and bones, as alive as his condition permitted him to be, leaning against whatever he was previously standing on as a bat.

The scars were still splitting his blind eye and cheek in a half.

As the man checked his body for anomalies, Remus didn’t definitely miss how his brother held his breath involuntarily. He side glanced both of them, as the eyes of the two met holding the gaze for a few seconds.

Yeah. It seemed kind of obvious.

« This is all? »

He nodded.

Roman stood up in a rush, as if he had just remembered how to move his limbs, and launched himself at the now anthropomorphic figure of the marquis.

« Gosh, finally, we made it! »

Though, the other’s enthusiasm wasn’t exactly as strong.

« You can’t do anything for the scars? » he looked over to Remus, who didn’t even have the time to reply as Roman, well, he didn’t really think he was going to let him go down that way.

« I think he shouldn’t. » he offered the hint of a smile. « You look absolutely fine with them. »

« For the love of the greatest Sorcerer, if you need to get it on please stay away from my manor. »

Roman really really wished he still had the sword in his grip in that exact moment.

Gay panic ensued, together with very flustered people and a soon to be again duke leading the way back to the town centre. Before they could reach the manor, Remus stopped, his shop nearby.

« I’ll think about your offer. » he informed Roman. « In the meantime, I think I’ll have some packing to do. » he pointed to his left, revealing the door of his shop right next to him.

His brother nodded and saluted him with a movement of his hand and a subtle smile. When he turned, Remus grabbed the marquis’s shoulder.

« Listen, I see how you look at each other. »

The man arched an eyebrow. « And? »

« Just. Don’t do anything stupid. »

« Nothing you would do, then? »

« Precisely. »

The marquis laughed quietly. « I’ll do my best. »

Remus honestly didn’t know what to expect from that.

✾✾✾

« Hey. »

So close.

His hand lingered on the gates’ bars. He turned and was met with a figure standing beside him, arms crossed and a dull expression adorned by hurt eyes.

« Going for a walk? » Roman’s tone was everything he didn’t want to hear.

The man sighed. Doing this the hard and painful way hadn’t been his intention. Yet, he knew he had to break Remus’s promise as soon as he had made it.

« Roman- »

« You could have just told me. »

He took a minimal step back. « What? »

« That you weren’t even planning on staying. » Roman was looking him in the eyes and it felt like keeping your gaze close to the fire. « You didn’t need to lead me on until now only to leave me like this. »

« It’s not that. » he intruded, speaking softly.

« Say it. » the prince sounded exasperated. « Just say it already. At least I can convince myself it isn’t my fault. »

« It’s not. » was there someone at fault? The marquis pressed his fingertips on the inner corner of his eyes. He didn’t want to do this. He really didn’t want to. « I can’t stay. »

« Why? »

« Because I’m constantly running away! » his hands flew away from his face. « I can’t stay anywhere long enough because I’m just wrong in comparison to everyone else. I’m different and I have to escape before anyone could pick up on that. »

Roman still stared at him; they had gone through that already once, why was it so difficult for him to stay just because he was a vampire? Why couldn’t he come with him?

« This life sucks and I couldn’t ask you to endure it. You wouldn’t be able to. »

« Who says that? »

« I do! I’ve been doing this for years and even I can’t handle it. » his hand was clutched to his chest in a fist. He didn’t want to, « I kill everything around me. » but the tears had already started running even without his permission.

Roman stepped forward as his expression shifted slowly to sympathy. No. The man’s mind raced. No, no, no.

He took a step back. « I come here and I discover I have golden blood, » Roman stopped a few feet away. « I get to know I belong to the royal chaste of vampires, as if a regular one wasn’t bad as it is. » his breathing turned heavier. « And because of that, everything inside my body is poisonous. Others can track me down easily and we aren’t exactly the friendliest species. You’d be in danger. »

If the prince had come forward again, he hadn’t noticed.

« I am constantly running away and a constant risk to the ones around me. » Roman was raising his hand and he gently shoved it away, fearing the worst.

« This isn’t a fairytale, Roman. It’s a horror story and it ends badly either for the protagonist or the monster. Are you even listening? »

« Are you? » Roman’s hand hovered over his arm, waiting to move further. « You’re asking me not to follow you when I’m already attached to you by a chain? » he ducked his head to make the other look at him directly in his dark eyes.

« You want me to stay still when I’m inches away from being able to console you with a sole touch? » the prince could see the veiled freight in the man’s eyes as he raised his hand again, a moment away from his cheek wet by tears.

One.

An instant.

His fingers were already caressing his cheek as new tears soaked it while the poison stuck to his skin.

And it was over.

« You’re telling me- »

« Roman, what did you do? »

« You’re telling me, » both of Roman’s hands were on his cheeks, thumbs brushing away his crying. « That I wouldn’t be able to kiss you, when there isn’t a single thing in the world I want to do more? »

The man’s heart almost completely stopped in his chest, melting as Roman’s lips moved to form ulterior sweet words he didn’t feel he deserved. He had his back pressed on the gates the same way an overwhelming feeling weighed down his stomach.

He was dying. Roman was dying and there was only one thing to do.

Killing him even faster, but only just.

His lips were the weapon, his teeth were the bullets and the poison was the god of Death. As he kissed the prince, pulling him close, the thought of that blatant murder allowed contrasting feelings.

He saved him by signing his death certificate, he could have stopped and yet he didn’t.

What was desire? An abstract concept inherent in human race. As you satisfy a wish, a new one makes way into your mind.

There was no actual satisfaction, but a constant yearning for more than what you already own.

They knew, because their lips weren’t able to break apart if not for a few seconds, before diving in again into something they knew they couldn’t fill.

Yet, nature envied them. The flowers desired to stand tall, plants wanted to show their vivid colours, the rivers wished they could shine limpidly even under the moonbeam.

But they had to wait, left unfulfilled and in permanent disquiet until they got what they wanted.

The lovers, though. They were unstoppable and invincible for as long as their hands touched and their hearts were connected.

Finally, Roman smiled. His arms lowered on the marquis’ shoulders and he chuckled.

« It appears I am bound to you, now. »

« You’re the stupidest person I’ve met. » the man gripped at his clothes and pulled him in for another quick kiss. « You’re stupid. I can’t believe you’re such an idiot and a prince at the same time. »

« I’m thinking about retiring. »

« Oh my stars, he’s gone. »

« Think about it! I could send Remus rule in my place, let our parents deal with what they’ve left behind. » Roman heard him snort with laughter. « What? It’s a perfect plan. »

« Yeah, right. » the man searched his eyes. « What about you? »

« We can run away together. You won’t be alone to fight off the ones that want to take you down. »

« This isn’t going to be easy. You’ll turn any moment now and you’ll need time to adjust to your new condition. » Roman nodded at that. « We’ll have to stay out of sight for a while, can you do that? »

« I can. » Roman’s determination made him want to take on the world with his bare hands.

Then, something in Roman’s eyes shifted. « Also, am I going to pass out or are you actually extremely stunning right now? » the prince’s eyebrows narrowed, his vision blurry.

That was the red code.

« Let’s get you in before everybody sees you. »

« I love you. » the marquis almost tripped over himself. That man needed to stop.

« I do too, but please refrain from speaking until later. »

✾✾✾

« Please, take care, okay? Visit as soon as you can. » Patton hugged the two one last time, nostalgia already washing over him. Logan had just given his own goodbyes and was keeping a very unhappy Virgil still.

One week had passed since Roman’s turning, they had decided to leave as he looked stable enough.

« Are you sure you don’t want me to, I don’t know, hex the whole town or something so you can stay longer? » Remus offered as his brother stifled a laugh. That was low-key endearing. Odd, as not much time earlier he had despised him under false accusations.

They shared a hug, too. « We’re going to be fine. » Roman promised and handed him the princely stuff he wasn’t going to need anymore. « And as you would say … » his expression contorted deep in thought. « Fuck ‘em up? »

« What did you say? » Virgil interrupted, while his parents collectively sent death glares at Roman.

« Duck the cup. » the marquis offered, eyeing the brothers with a sharp look. « As a metaphorical good luck wish, I suppose. »

« Like when they crash bottles against ships? »

« Definitely. »

When their last conversation came to an end, the prince and the marquis started walking away.

Roman looked back to them, his pace slowing down. He locked eyes with Virgil.

« Now! »

Virgil broke free of his dad’s grip and sprinted forward to them, laughing like he had just told the funniest joke in existence. Roman scooped him up in his arms and started running while his lover stared at him in utter disbelief.

« Roman, what the hell! » Logan ran after him, causing the laughter to spread between all those present.

« You absolute mad man! »

It took twenty minutes for the real departure to happen. But at least, they were all smiling.

And, maybe, teary-eyed too. But they were not going to mention it until later some months, or even years, where they could all finally meet again and catch up with their incredible lives.

Until then, they would keep smiling.

✾✾✾

They had been traveling the whole day, the sun shone from behind the mountains in the distance, almost completely hidden, so that the light coloured in rosy tones.

It did feel like a fairy tale, in the long run.

Roman was already smiling to himself when a small giggle escaped his lips.

« What’s so funny? » his lover turned enough to both look at him and be aware of their path.

« You never told me your name. » the prince was looking ahead, quite amused.

« Were I to tell you, you’d never be able to fly among the constellations like you’ve always dreamt. » he remembered one of the many stories he had told him while still a bat.

« I believe I can risk that. »

« I wouldn’t want to bear the guilt of taking that away from you. » they stopped in their tracks and faced each other. « But there might be a way I can help with. »

With no warning, the marquis leaned in and pecked Roman’s lips, softly, so that he could have sensed that small spark in his chest before it transformed into a thunderous firework.

« Is that how you reach the stars? »

The man only smirked at Roman, going back to lead the way through the yellow field. Their road towards a new life was starting to clear.

And their kingdom shone for evermore.