#so i guess that at least can count just a short brush of creativity in a free shape

[dropthedemiurge]

when i was born, my mother gave a gift to me called Grief, for many years unwanted kid like me read fairy tales and foolishly mistook that gift with Care because the vinyl records in our living room were playing gentle lullabies into my ears they drowned out man's yelling and the woman's cries i didn't know the mother's hands should not be cold i didn't know the bitter drinks in glasses smell like death not knowing any better, i grew up her perfect copy – the same dead look, dramatic outbursts and mourning of life i longed for love but how can one discover something never seen? it only grazed my heart in bathtubs, drawn by a path of pills the actress passed a cursed theatric play to only child – the ghost of one, who danced with Death more often than with other people; her hugs were cold, awaited and familiar

tonight i take a cigarette and put it in between my bleeding lips unknown singer lights it up for me, and suddenly i breathe – your flame feels warm your eyes see me your touch is nothing but a gift of Care so maybe if you sing the lullabies for me the Death will never interrupt us she won't dare

[Ray, Only Friends Series]

[qlala]

Hi, Q! As a big fan of your writing, I'm really curious about your nanowrimo process. Like in terms of what keeps you motivated/validated? Did you set some goal for yourself beforehand that you're trying to achieve (aside from the daily word count)?

I've tried it twice, the first time I was actually posting every day what I wrote the previous night. It wasn't my greatest work by any stretch of the imagination, but at least the process itself was fun, validating and interactive. I've enjoyed it a whole lot. And then the next year I decided that I would spend some actual time and thought on finessing what I wrote, instead of half-assedly editing it during my lunch break, and then I would post the whole thing after the fact. Well, guess what, this fic has never been finished, its 40000 words skeleton is buried in my drafts forever. I cannot even look at it, it makes me physically ill.

I really wanted to try again this year but there seems to be a mental block in my head I cannot break through. What keeps you going? Do you have a self-validation tip for this process that you could share?

first, let me let you in on a secret:

I have been trying to write this fic. for five years. and three NaNoWriMos jsldkjslkj

So I am not necessarily THE best person to give advice about staying motivated with writing projects. But I can say a few things that have been making this year work really, really well for me as opposed to previous years! And this answer got pretty long, but if even one part of it helps, I’ll consider it a success!

So the short answer: 1) making a detailed outline, 2) not editing in November, and 3) a healthy dose of external motivation. The longer answer:

Detailed Outline

If I’ve already lost you, please come back. I promise I hate outlines. I didn’t have an outline for this fic for five years. The outline was a hail mary throw, at least half motivated by panic that the show was going to end and no one would care about the fic by the time I posted it, and I did not expect it to work. But it changed absolutely everything about the writing process for me.

I didn’t realize until after I made myself stop typing scenes and start just figuring out the major beats in a notebook that up until then, what I’d been calling “writing” had actually been two things at once: writing, and planning. 

By figuring out the major plot beats, then making a scene-by-scene outline, I got to do all the planning ahead of time. I know which plot points I need to foreshadow and when; I know what’s going to coax the characters two steps forward, and what’s going to send them one step back; I know exactly what the antagonist’s next move is and when they’re going to make it. 

I thought I would miss that, and that I’d have no motivation to write once I knew everything that happened, but it turned out to be the opposite. Because by doing the planning ahead of time, I don’t have to multitask anymore, and I have so much more mental space to create. It’s like having all your paints mixed and your canvas primed before you even pick up a brush. You can just focus on the art. 

I love being able to pick any scene off my list, in any order, and just let myself have fun writing it. The extra time I have that I’d previously used for utilitarian things like “how does this lead into the next scene” can now be used for fun things like “how can I set this scene up to call back to something that happened the show?”

2. Stop editing

Because actually I lied, before. What I used to do, and what it sounds like you did, wasn’t just two things at once: it was three. Writing, planning, and editing. 

You know that little chant from Dune, where they’re like, “I must not fear. Fear is the mind killer”? That’s editing. Editing is the mind killer. By editing as you write, you’re like, reverse-validating yourself. You’re taking yourself out of the creative process to look for everything wrong with your writing and your story. 

It’s also a time suck, and NaNoWriMo is a sprint. Editing is what December is for. When you free yourself from both planning and editing—by planning before, and editing after—writing will feel a lot more internally rewarding. You’re just making. You can get it nice for other people to look at, later. The first draft is for you, and specifically the part of you that loves your story. Don’t let the rest of you nitpick it apart yet. 

3. External motivation

Here's the other thing: if I don’t update my word count on the NaNoWriMo website every day and keep my streak going, I will stop writing this fic. I wish I were joking.

Even with everything I just said, I need external motivators to actually get me to set a daily hard deadline of midnight to make myself carve time out of the day to write, and write fast. Missing a day last year and losing my streak was the nail in the coffin for that attempt (which had already been dying a slow, painful death, because I’d had no outline, and every day I was just adding another 1.6k of filler into the front half of act 2).

So I recommend using NaNo's website to keep a running word count and streak going, even better if you have add some buddies on there who will at least in theory be seeing whether you update every day or not. (You can add me, if you want! My username is fatherofthebride.)

I also definitely, definitely couldn’t be doing this without two great friends and beta readers, who endure some truly novel-length rants via text as I either talk through problem areas with them or send them excited recaps of a scene I just wrote and am really excited about.

If external validation works for you, but daily posting of the new writing doesn’t, I really recommend grabbing someone to chat to about how the fic is going and share snippets with, and/or posting about how it’s going/posting teaser snippets of the WIP.

And that's the end of the numbered list! I hope there's something at least a little helpful somewhere in here and I also really hope I actually answered your question <3

[ive-tumbled-down-a-rabbit-hole]

Pix, where's your couch?

Some fluff to counter all the angst I've read in the last 24hrs. (Silly move as made myself cry - too many talented writers out there breaking my heart). Or at least if not fluff no angst.

Probably more a teen and up fic than general but still fairly clean (I think... I rubbish at knowing what ratings etc really).

Masterlist

...............................................

Jason stared at the space in the middle of the room.

“Pix, where’s your couch?”

“Hmmm, Jay?”

“I know you said that I could crash at your place again, so, umm, where’s the couch?”

“Oh, It had one to many blood stains so I got rid of it. You always said it was like sleeping on rocks anyway, so I’ve ordered a new one. It’s arriving next week.”

Marinette beamed up at Jason, bouncing on her toes with excitement while she grabbed his hand.

“It’s so pretty, Jay. I’m so happy that I finally could get rid of the old one and get a new beautiful comfy amazing sofa. You should see the pattern on the material. Oh oh and the detail on the frame. Hang on! I'll see if I can find a picture… you have to see it."

Marinette suddenly dropped his hand in favour of dashing about her apartment hunting for the picture as Jason's eyes darted between the chaotic woman and the space where the couch should be. Yes he'd asked to crash at her place in the past and always moaned that the couch was the worst thing to sleep on ever, but it was better than having to be near his family when he wanted to hide. Aaand he also might have come round earlier in the week before heading back to the cave to get some wounds seen to for an easier journey… but still had he really left the couch in such a state she decided to finally listen to his advice and get a new one?

"Pix, that's great and all but umm, where am I going to sleep?"

"In my bed, silly. It's the only other place."

Jason groaned and dragged his hand down his face. He knew what was going to happen next.

"Pix, darling, sweetheart, where are you going to sleep? You can't work all night which I know you love doing. You need to rest too. Look, I'll just call Roy up again and see if I can crash at one of his safe houses. Bruce is less likely to know about those."

"Jay, I'll just sleep next to you. The bed's big enough for the both of us. It'll be fine so you don't need to call Roy."

"What?!"

"It'll be fine. We can share the bed for the night. Now go dump your stuff in my room and I'll make us some dinner."

Jason grimaced as he knew there was no escaping. Roy, the arsehole, would tease him mercilessly if he didn't stay, and if he went he'd hurt Marinette's feelings as she'd offered up her home, her bed, for him to hide.

…………

"Jay, you're as stiff as a dead body. This is meant to be relaxing. If you don't want to watch this film we can sit on my dining room chairs and watch the TV out there. Or I can find some cards so we can play games at the table?"

"Nope, this is fine, Pix."

"Really? Then relax. You don't need to be so tense."

Jason took a deep breath and slowly let it out and forced himself to loosen his muscles and sink into the comfort of Marinette's bed. Apparently, due to having no seating in her living room, she'd taken to watching stuff on her laptop in bed if she wasn't working. Now the pair were both sitting on her bed watching some film she'd selected. Suddenly she trilled next to him.

"Ooo I know what will help. I bought some decent wine back from France with me after visiting my parents. I'll go get it. It's much nicer than the stuff I've found here. You'll love it Jay. It's the perfect thing to help us destress from the week."

Before Jason could respond she'd danced out the room, giggling to herself about her 'great' idea.

Jason swore to himself. He could do this. It wasn't a big deal. He could control himself. He could sit 'very' close and sleep next to his crush. It was only a crush. Not love. In her bed. It won't be that hard. He just needed to keep his cool. He ran a hand through his hair, trying to figure out a strategy to survive the night.

Before he had mentally formalised his survival plan Marinette burst back into the room, glasses and wine in hand, only to trip on her bedroom rug and crash face first into his lap. Miraculously saving the wine and glasses. Jason carefully removed them from her grasp as she turned to peer up at him wide eyed, face dangerously close to where it currently shouldn't be for his sanity.

"Oops. I keep doing that. I really should move that rug. Sorry Jay."

Jason let out an inaudible whine and closed his eyes slowly counting to 10. This was going to be as hard as he originally thought it was going to be.

"S'okay, Pix. Just get up so we can have the wine and watch the film."

Awkwardly smiling at Jason, Marinette detangled her legs and climbed over him to get settled next to him again. Carefully she took the wine bottle off him to open and poured some into the glasses he held out for her. After putting the bottle on her bedside table, she turned her attention back to Jason and the film.

"Now we can relax properly. Guessing you're not ready to vent about Bruce yet."

"Nah, not really. You're making an effort to cheer me up and distract me so don't want to bring the evening down. And don't look at me like that! This is perfect Pix, a much better way to relax. If I wanted to vent I'd go punch and shoot scum. Do *you* want to vent about your latest commission though?"

She looked guiltily at him, "Do you mind?"

Jason looked softly at her and smiled, "Go ahead Pix."

Suddenly it was like a dam had opened and she was telling him about the ridiculous demands expected of her. The issues with the material. How her sewing machine was not playing ball and likely needed a service or replacement part soon.

Jason gazed fondly at his friend (crush) nattering animatedly away. With wine in hand he relished the soft warmth of the room. She was right about the wine helping to relax, the film long forgotten as they chatted away enjoying the safe space she had created under the glow of the fairy lights.

It was only when the film had stopped that they were drawn out of their discussions.

"Oh! We kinda missed that film huh?"

"Yup, Pix we did. And we've finished that bottle as well."

"I'll set another film up, did you want to change and do your ablutions while I set it up."

"Change?" Jason squawked out.

Marinette turned to glare at him. "Yeah, change. You're not sleeping in my bed in jeans Jay. So go change. I'll sort myself in a minute too."

Jason reluctantly left to go to the bathroom and quickly changed. After cleaning his teeth he splashed cold water in his face. He had managed so far. He'd resisted brushing her hair out her face. He'd resisted pulling her close as she leant on his shoulder as she laughed. He resisted kissing her when she pouted when telling her story.

He could do this.

As he returned Marinette slipped out telling him to sort the bed out for them to lie down for the next film. The stars had long since come out and Jason begrudgingly agreed that there was a high chance that they 'could' fall asleep in the next one. (Okay, it was a low chance given his nightly antics and her insomnia but he'd play along with her belief.)

Jason had settled, still sitting in the bed but under covers this time as Marinette re-emerged.

She was trying to kill him.

He had played nice wearing a vest and joggers. She, Marinette, had dressed to kill in just an oversized T-Shirt that hung off her shoulder and brushed the tops of her thighs.

Jason squeezed his hands into fists as she carefully this time manoeuvred around the room, showing off her long legs. Apparently she had a late growth spurt and finally took more after her father than her mother now. Breaking his gaze from her legs as she moved round the other side of the bed he sent her a tight smile as she climbed in next to him.

"You all set for the next film?"

"mm hmm"

As she lent forward to press play, Jason darted his eyes to the ceiling. Marinette turned around to see Jason staring up and laughed.

"Jay, that's sweet and all but I do have sleep shorts on. You'd not see my underwear. Plus you're my friend. I trust you."

"You couldn't have warned me!"

"Nah, seeing your reaction was funny. Now shhh film time."

Sitting back, Marinette grabbed a blanket and wrapped it around her shoulders and smoothed the duvet down before resting her head against Jason's shoulder snuggling into his arm. She smiled and sighed in contentment as she lost herself in the film.

Jason's blue screened for a moment as his friend cuddled into his arm. He knew she often did this on the couch but still having her do this in bed, in her pajamas, was another matter. He should have been better prepared. He had thought his mission earlier was a challenge. It had now reached monumental difficulty. Feeling her warm breath dance across his arm. Clear smell of her fading perfume. Hearing her slight murmurs to herself as she focused on the plot playing out before them. It took a ridiculous amount of his strength to remain relaxed and try to focus on the film.

He almost lost it as Marinette drowsily started to slowly stroke the bare skin of his arm.

"Come on Pix, let's lay down. You're hardly awake currently. I'll turn the film off for us."

".. mmm.. no... I'm.. I'm awake..you're so hot… *yawn* nice and safe... and toasty… I .. I can..*yawwwwn* fin..esh fim.."

Jason choked when said she was hot until he realised that she meant he was warm. Carefully he extracted his arm from her octopus grip and got her lying down, before turning the film off. He left one set of fairy lights on as knew Mariette disliked sleeping in the dark.

Taking a moment to steal himself, Jason watched as Marinette buried herself deeper into the blankets and duvet. He had checked whether it'd be ok to top and tail the bed earlier, Marinette's glare at the suggestion and the insults about his 'big stinking smelly gross' feet being near her face pushed that option out the window pretty quickly. Especially with some of the creative insults thrown in as well.

Despite all his nerves feeling like they were on fire, Jason slowly crawled back in the bed to settle. The soft lighting, the quiet sound of Marinette breathing, the warmth embracing him, Jason suddenly felt all his energy escape. Forcing himself to relax was tiring. Holding himself back was exhausting. The week had been draining. Surprisingly quickly Jason succumbed to sleep.

…………

Jason woke to light filtering into the room. He felt unusually well rested and content. A warm fuzzy happy feeling that he'd not felt in such a long time flowed through him. Sighing he went to turn only to find that he couldn't move.

Sluggish memories and realisations started to speed up and come to the forefront of his mind. That he was sleeping in Marinette's bed. Next…. Under!?!?! Marinette.

It appeared that Marinette had somehow in the night starfished face down across the bed and now her face was resting across his chest. Her hair was a bird's nest of tangles cascading down to his arm. One hand had a razor clam of a grip on the bottom of his shirt unwilling to let go. One leg was tangled up with his.

It would have been a surprise and embarrassing if he hadn't witnessed putting Marinette to bed as a tiny curled up ball to discover her in the morning sprawled out across the bed in a similar fashion to this. Except this time he was semi pinned down by her. He would say the only embarrassment was that he'd forgotten she got like this. And no other reason at all.

As Marinette still slept, Jason's brain slowly woke more and more. He took on his sleeping friend and admired the peace that was on her face. The lack of stress that graced her features. She was gorgeous normally but at this moment she looked ethereal. Jason basked in the morning warmth slowly threading his fingers through her hair to detangle the large knots. He could get used to this. Too used to this. The comfort. The simplicity. The domestic-ness of it all.

Lost in his own thoughts he didn't notice Marinette stir and blearily looked at him with one eye open.

"Mor'n Jay," a croaked voice drew his attention back to his friend lying across his chest, "Di'ja sleep k?"

"Yeah, Pix," came his soft reply, "best night sleep in a while. I understand why you had the lumpy stone of a couch now. You spent all your cash on this cloud of a bed. How did you sleep?"

She turned her face completely into his chest and he felt her chuckle against him before shifting herself so she was now lying curled up next to him, her face closer to his as she rested against his shoulder.

"Best in ages. No nightmares. At all. Never get nightmares when next to you. You make the cloud bed perfect, Should get you to stay in it forever."

Jason turned to gawk at the woman whose eyes remained closed as curled up against him, "Pix, you can't just say things like that!"

"What? Wha'ja mean? What did I say?"

"Saying that I made your bed perfect. That you want me to stay here forever. It gives the whole wrong impression."

"But I meant it, Jay. Last night I slept all the way through because of you. I love being with you. So why wouldn't I want you around?"

Slowly opening her eyes Marinette leant forward and up to kiss his chin before giggling as she moved away.

"Pix, you're killing me here."

"With what weapon? We're in bed and your weapons are next to you, not me…. And why would I kill you?"

Twisting so he could face her properly, Jason gazed as his semi drowsy friend in soft whispered tones said.

“By making it hard not to ruin our friendship. I love what we have now and I don’t want to lose it.”

“What do you mean? You won’t ruin our friendship. We’ve been through too much for it to be ruined.”

“By doing something stupid.”

“Stupid?”

Her eyes widened as she looked at him in puzzlement, more awake than moments earlier. She pursed her lips trying to figure out what he was trying to say was stupid, unconciously drifting closer to him.

“Yeah, something really stupid.”

“Oh… the only thing really to ruin our friendship would be to leave or betray me… you’re not going to be that stupid are you?”

“No, I don’t want to leave you. Ever really. Being like this is perfect. I… I love being with you… you’re my best friend, just don’t tell Roy that.”

Marinetre softly smiling at Jason, “Ok. I won’t. This is almost perfect, but… did you know what would make it better?”

With their foreheads now touching, in the warmth of the blankets and duvets and filtered light pouring in the window, Jason shook his head. He couldn't figure out what she meant to be better. The moment felt like a perfect dream to him.

"No. What would make this better?"

"If you kissed me."

It took a few seconds for Jason's brain to process the words before it was like the dam had burst, all the restraint he'd used in the last 12 hours, for the last number of months, collapsed. Jason leant forward capturing Marinette's lips with his own.

One of her hands reached up and tangled into his hair as the other rested on his chest. His wrapped around her waist pulling her closer. They lost themselves in the moment as they deepened the kiss while pouring their emotions into it, showing their feelings they have been too afraid to say out loud.

Eventually, they parted breathing heavily. Marinette gave a breathy chuckle.

"Finally."

"Huh?"

"It only took you the whole night, then to be told to do that."

"What?!"

Jason's brain struggled to work out what Marinette was saying. His current focus was more on the sensation of holding Marinette so close. His lips still tingled from her kissing her. It was only because her hand moved to cradle his cheek and she kissed his nose that his attention was drawn back to her.

"Jay, you sweet Doofus, I've been flirting with you for months. You've not noticed what's so ever so drastic measures needed to be taken."

"You've been flirting with me???"

"Yes. Even Roy noticed, he helped me with this."

"You mean this was planned?!?"

"Yup. Completely planned. And Roy even helped me get rid of the couch."

"You planned a 'there's only one bed' situation? Sneaky Pix, that's sneaky."

"Worked didn't it. Plus you love the cliche troupes. Don't deny it."

Jason leaned in close to Marinette, a breath away from her.

"Can't deny it, but we've got months of idiocy to catch up on."

With that Marinette closed the gap to capture his lips. They had the rest of the day to work out and discuss how they felt, right now, right now was for kissing and cuddling in bed. Who knew all that together she just needed to replace her couch.

[today-only-happens-once]

retrospection

title: retrospection

summary: Virgil finds Roman in the Mind Palace Theater after the events of Putting Others First: SvSr. 

Word count: 1549

Warnings: spoilers (obviously), self-loathing is extremely heavy here, angst in droves, hurt/comfort, cursing. 

A/N:  I wasn’t planning to write anything in reaction to POF but then this idea caught me in a flying tackle and wrestled me to the ground until I wrote it. So here it is! Posted in the spirit of the “two cakes” theory. Unedited because I just don’t have the mental or emotional energy after writing this. Might be some of my angstiest stuff yet. I’m not sure. It’s up there, for sure. No taglist because it’s short and unedited but since @creativenostalgiastuff specifically asked me to, here ya go!

...

Virgil steps into the Mind Palace Theater as quietly as he can, listening to the echoes of Roman’s final sung note reverberate against the walls of the large room. When Patton had said he was worried because Roman hadn’t returned to his room after whatever conversation had occurred following the wedding reception, Virgil had told the Moral Side he’d try to find him. He’d had a feeling that perhaps Roman would go to one of his usual spots when he was upset. 

The theater is empty, Virgil realizes as he catches the door before it can slam. Usually, when Roman performed, the Creative Side filled the rows of seats with adoring fans. Then again, as far as Virgil knew, Roman hadn’t done much in the way of performing since sentencing Thomas to attend the wedding.

Virgil stays in the back of the theater and watches Roman catch his breath. The Creative Side’s head is bowed, his hair falling unchecked into his eyes, the stage lights casting long shadows across the angular planes of his face. It makes it impossible for Virgil to see Roman’s expression from this far away.

Then Roman’s shoulders jerk with an aborted sob, and Virgil sighs.

Roman sinks, slowly, to the stage floor and Virgil slips his hands into the pocket of his hoodie and starts to walk down the aisle towards the stage. Roman doesn’t seem to notice, pulling a knee up to his chest and burying his face in his arms perched on top of it.

Virgil sniffs as he gets closer in an effort to make his presence known without demanding a response. Roman doesn’t even look up, but the way he freezes for half of a beat is enough to let the Anxious Side know that Roman is aware he’s not alone. It’s something, at least.

Roman is sitting on the edge of the stage thrust, and Virgil jumps up onto it to sit beside him. There’s a long moment when neither of them says anything. Virgil’s hands fidget in his lap as he listens to the way Roman’s sniffles and shaky exhales fill the space around them. He doesn’t look at Roman—not much, anyway—in a perhaps flimsy attempt to let Roman feel that he still had an element of privacy.

But the quiet stretches on, and Virgil starts to feel that perhaps Roman is waiting for him to speak first. So he does.

“No adoring fanbase today?”

Roman sighs. “Best not, after that performance.” He lifts his head, and Virgil counts it as a small and fleeting victory. “How much of it did you hear?”

Roman doesn’t look at him when he asks, but Virgil looks at him when answers. “Not much,” he replies honestly. “The last note.”

Roman’s voice is almost as dull as his eyes, staring blankly at the rows and rows of vacant audience seats the stretch out before them. “I was sharp on the last note. My voice kept—” His voice wavers, then breaks off. Virgil glances over and sees the bob to his Adam’s apple as he swallows. Then he huffs a humorless breath. “Well. That.”

Virgil opens his mouth to reply but Roman cuts him off. “I’ve sung that song probably a million times but I guess now I can just add it to the long list of things I can’t seem to do right.”

Virgil feels something—like dread but sharper—ripple down his spine. His gaze flashes to Roman. “That’s not fair.”

There’s a twitch to Roman’s jaw. “Isn’t it?”

Virgil swallows. “Roman—”

“I was cruel to you. For years, Virgil.” Roman glances at him then, but he averts his gaze a moment later as if too ashamed to meet his eyes. “And then you left, and I eventually realized how badly I’d messed up, and I started doing better. Or, I thought I was. And then Thomas got broken up with, and my efforts to salvage what was left of his heart only led to more pain and I hurt you and I hurt Patton and by extension, I hurt Thomas. I write some song lyrics a few months later and nobody likes them. What’s worse is they’re right to not like them—some of them were like something Remus would have come up with.”

Virgil’s chest clenches at the disgust that drips from Roman’s voice as he speaks. “Roman—”

“I was the reason that Thomas missed the reading of Joan’s play, remember? Because one cute boy gave us the time of day, and I made Thomas choose him first over them. And then I let myself get manipulated into parading around this very same stage in an effort to appease my own sense of guilt over it all. I continued to be mean to Logan, calling him names and calling him stupid which couldn’t be further from the truth.” He rakes a hand through his hair. “I was just… angry, and jealous, and I lashed out at an easy target because I’m just incapable of not hurting you all.” Roman’s hands curl around his biceps and grip.

“Roman,” Virgil repeats firmly, but Roman shakes his head and wipes a hand across his mouth and presses on.

“And-and then the callback comes around, and I think finally, y’know? Finally a sign that I could do something right. Finally my ambition is a good thing that helps Thomas rather than hurts him. But even that was wrong, because Thomas—because I—wanted so damn badly to go to that callback, he decided he wasn’t a good person. So I tried to make him do the right thing, because I can make that sacrifice if it means that for once I didn’t screw up.”

Virgil sees a sheen to Roman’s eyes, and the Creative Side quickly brushes at his eyes. He still won’t look at Virgil.

“And then today—“ and Roman’s voice breaks. Virgil watches as Roman’s grip on his own arms tightens even more and the Anxious Side worries that he’s going to leave bruises. Roman stops and takes a breath, his eyes screwing shut. “Today I learn that I couldn’t even get that right. I side with Janus, and I’m the bad guy.”

Virgil startles. He told them his name? He quickly shakes his head, filing away the information to deal with at a later time.

Roman doesn’t even seem to have noticed. “I side with Patton, and I’m still the bad guy. I just… I don’t know what it takes to be the good guy, Virgil. I thought… I thought—”

“Hey,” Virgil says, as softly as he can, reaching a hand out and covering Roman’s on his arm. Hoping to ease the death grip he has. “Roman, you are a good guy. You’re Thomas’s hero, after all.”

There’s a strange, choked noise in the back of Roman’s throat and he wrenches away from Virgil’s grip, scrambling to his feet. He stalks several steps away, his back to the Anxious Side, and Virgil feels suddenly… lost. That used to always be a comfort to Roman. Something he clung to in his darker moments.

But something anguished had flooded into the Prince’s eyes when Virgil had said that, and Virgil…

Virgil doesn’t understand why.

“Not anymore, Virgil,” he chokes out in a strained voice. “Thomas doesn’t—I’m not—”

Virgil blinks a few times, his brow furrowing. Slowly, he pushes himself to his feet. “Roman, what are you saying?”

Roman whirls around, his fists clenching and his eyes red and watering. “Spare me the faux ignorance, Anxiety! Janus as much as confirmed that Thomas was lying to me about that. So I know. I know I failed him one too many times now. I know Thomas doesn’t… he doesn’t…” Roman clenches his jaw and averts his gaze again, his expression crumpling.

Virgil glances away, turning that over. That… didn’t make sense. Because Virgil knew—he knew—that Thomas did, in fact, see Roman as his hero. Virgil doesn’t know what Janus told him, or why (because when he thinks about it, even for a moment, he can’t understand why Janus would lie about something like that to Roman), but he knows that Roman is wrong.

Virgil takes a step towards Roman. “Bullshit,” he snaps. “You are his hero. Thomas loves you, Roman. We all do.”

“Shut up!” Roman snaps back. “Why—why do you all keep saying that?”

Virgil takes another step. “Because it’s the truth, Princey.”

Virgil watches as Roman blinks, and the tears that had been brimming in his eyes track down his cheeks. Roman doesn’t scrub them away, either, instead shaking his head.

“I don’t—I don’t understand,” Roman manages, his eyes searching with a desperation that only further tightens the clench in Virgil’s chest. “I’m not… I keep… I don’t deserve it. I—”

Virgil is close enough now to grab him, so he does. He grabs Roman by the arm and yanks him in. Roman stumbles, but Virgil catches him, holding him close with one arm wrapped around his back and the other threading up through his hair to keep him in place.

“Listen to me, Roman,” Virgil says in the Prince’s ear. “We—all of us—love you. We do. We have, we do, and we will. We will say it and we will show it in as many ways as you need until you can believe it yourself.”

He feels Roman’s grip against his own back fist in his sweatshirt. Something like a sob wracks through Roman’s chest, and it’s like a dam breaking open.

Virgil just holds on as tight as he can.

[ticklystuff]

Kuya and Bunso

summary: modern au where thoma is fluent in tagalog and aether is interested in learning

warnings: this is a tickle fic

word count: ~1.8k

a/n: ok so i found out recently that thoma’s english va is filipino and @danibby and i are both filipino too so we started talking about how thoma would be fluent in tagalog and he’d know a lot about filipino culture and he’d share his knowledge and experience with aether and that’s how the idea for this fic came about. i’m not fluent in tagalog but i can understand it perfectly fine and know a decent amount of words off the top of my head so hopefully this didn’t come out too bad but ya if you’re fluent in tagalog pls feel free to scalp me

“Paa.”

“Paa? Uhhh, paa,” Aether mumbled to himself as he scanned Thoma’s body, looking for the body part that matched what Thoma was saying.

Aether bit his lip in thought as he replayed the word over and over in his head. Learning a new language was a lot more difficult than Aether was expecting and he wasn’t sure how Thoma managed. Granted, Thoma did have to travel abroad for his work in the Philippines and if he wanted to live comfortably in a foreign place, adapting to their language and culture would have been necessary.

Now, though, Thoma was back permanently from his business trip, having only visited home a couple times for one week max during the two years he had to spend there. Every time he flew home for a visit, Thoma would bring back many stories and experiences, as well as souvenirs, or pasalubong, to share amongst his family and friends. Aether loved hearing about the friendly people, the white sands of Boracay, the delicious street food that often gave Thoma food poisoning, and many more and this only helped to spark Aether’s interest in the Philippines. He often found himself spending most of his weekends at Thoma’s place, learning a little bit more about their culture each time. 

Since Aether was so interested in the Philippines, Thoma started giving him Tagalog lessons, hoping it’d be enough to prepare Aether if he so chose to make the trip one day, but learning a new language is never easy, so the two had to think of creative ways to get Thoma’s lessons to stick, which led to Thoma coming up with their current game.

“You have ten seconds to figure out what ‘paa’ is,” Thoma told Aether with a smirk as he watched the other start panicking. “Isa..”

Aether’s mind started racing as Thoma started to count to ten in Tagalog, knowing full well what would happen if he failed to guess correctly. At the last moment, Aether jumped for Thoma’s feet at the end of the bed, giving the socked soles a few tickles, hearing Thoma burst into giggles from behind him. He had made a blind guess and hoped it wouldn’t come back to bite him.

“Okay, okahahahay!” Thoma sat up and pulled his leg away from Aether, wrapping his arms around his stomach as he let his giggles subside. “Okay, you were right. ‘Paa’ means feet.”

Aether cheered to himself and was rewarded with a high five from Thoma, while mentally breathing a sigh of relief, happy he had made the right choice. As part of today’s language lesson, Thoma wanted to teach Aether different body parts in Tagalog. Instead of just telling Aether what certain body parts were called in Tagalog, Thoma decided to add a little twist to today’s lesson, claiming it’d help Aether retain the information after today. As part of the “game”, Thoma would give Aether a body part in Tagalog and Aether would have to guess which one Thoma was referring to by tickling the specific area on Thoma’s body to lock in his answer. If Aether guessed right, then they moved on to the next word, but if he was wrong, then Thoma got to tickle him back by targeting the correct spot that he was referring to. It was an exciting game that kept Aether on edge because of how ridiculously sensitive he was everywhere and he knew Thoma chose tickling on purpose due to how many times they’d gotten themselves into tickle fights. At least this specific method would help properly cement some of the words into Aether’s brain.

“Alright, let’s see,” Thoma said to himself as he let his body plop down onto the bed once more, tucking both of his hands under his head. “Let’s do one a little harder.”

“Bring it on, kuya,” Aether told him as he crossed his arms together, his voice laced with the slight bit of confidence.

Thoma couldn’t help but playfully roll his eyes at the smug expression plastered on Aether’s face. “How about ‘kili kili’ this time?”

Aether definitely knew this one. Within seconds, he was on top of Thoma, having pounced straight for his stomach, giving no time for Thoma to prepare for the wiggling fingers digging into the thin grey t-shirt that protected his tummy. Since he was attacked without warning, Thoma let out a half-shriek half-squeal, followed by a steady stream of giggles.

“Wrohohong! You’re wrohohong!” Thoma tried to tell him through his giggling, attempting to slap Aether’s hands away with his own when the other kept up the tickling.

“No, you’re definitely lying!” Aether protested, his fingers digging in slightly more, insisting that he was right again. He knew he wasn’t wrong.

“Nohohoho! AHAHAHAHAHA!” Thoma’s giggles turned into full-blown laughter once Aether had turned things up a notch. He started kicking his legs and continued to cry out that Aether was incorrect, eventually managing to catch Aether’s wrists with his own hands.

“Wait, was I actually wrong?” Aether awkwardly chuckled as he looked down at Thoma’s red face, watching the other catch his breath from the tickling. 

“Y-Yeah,” Thoma managed to pant out. After recovering, he sat up on the bed and released Aether’s left arm, but still held onto the right, slowly lifting it up into the air over Aether’s head. “Stomach in Tagalog is tiyán. Kili kili means armpit.”

“Oh,” Aether muttered, feeling slightly embarrassed at his confident mistake. It wasn’t long, though, before he felt a single finger wiggle along the inside of his underarm at the edge of his sleeve, eliciting giggles from Aether.

“You were getting pretty cocky a minute ago. What happened?” Thoma couldn’t help but tease as he watched Aether squirm around, but Thoma continued to hold Aether’s wrist over his head. His finger managed to slip under the hem of the short-sleeved shirt, causing Aether to jerk around even more.

“Hehehehahaha! I’m sohohohorry!” Aether burst into hysterical laughter as he felt Thoma begin to add in more fingers scribbling against the pale skin. He tried his best to pull away, but Thoma kept his grip on his arm tight and his other hand simply chased Aether around wherever he wiggled his body.

After about a minute of tickling, Thoma finally released Aether’s arm, but still attempted to keep up the tickling, laughing playfully as he chased Aether around on the bed. Aether did his best to scoot away, but he simply wasn’t quick enough and soon felt both of Thoma’s hands in his armpits. He tried to protect his sensitive spots by clamping his arms to his body, but that only trapped Thoma’s hands in his underarms and Aether soon fell back into hysterics as he felt Thoma’s poke and pinch the tickly areas.

“Thomahahaha! Stohohohop!” Aether cried out once he felt Thoma’s hands move down to his sides, breaking the rule of the game. He squealed when he felt both of his sides being pinched, causing him to squirm back and forth as Thoma laughed along with how silly Aether looked.

“Alright, alright.” Thoma removed his hands and sat back, laughing as Aether pushed himself away and crossed his arms at him.

“You said you’d go easy,” Aether whined with a pout.

“Hehe, sorry, couldn’t resist,” Thoma told him, laughing when Aether stuck his tongue out at him. “But alright, let’s move onto the next. Hmm, how about ‘bunso’?”

Bunso? Aether’s definitely heard this one before, but he was having trouble picturing it. He bit his lip in thought, watching as Thoma laid down on the bed again. He didn’t want to mess up again like last time, but Thoma started counting out loud again and Aether couldn’t help but begin to panic for a second time.

“W-Wait, I need more time,” Aether said, but Thoma didn’t stop counting and it didn’t help that he seemed to be enjoying how nervous Aether was from the smirk on his face. The three spots that they had gone over already were feet, stomach, and armpits, so maybe bunso meant ribs? Only one way to find out.

“Wrohohohong!” Thoma managed to say through his laughter, brushing Aether’s hands away with his own.

“Ugh, I have no idea,” Aether sighed, pulling away as Thoma sat up once more. “What’s bunso?”

“Well, it’s a special word, I guess,” Thoma told him as he brought his hands to Aether’s sides, but didn’t actually start tickling, allowing his hands to rest where they were.

“So it means sides- Ahahahaha!” Aether squirmed around as Thoma began tickling him once more, but Thoma simply pounced on him, straddling Aether to keep him still.

“Actually, bunso means youngest sibling,” Thoma explained over Aether’s laughter.

“Whahahahat?!”

“In Filipino culture, we often refer to people that we’re close with that are slightly older as ‘kuya’ or ‘ate’, which mean older brother or older sister respectively, so I’m your ‘kuya’ in this case,” Thoma continued, digging even more into Aether’s sides, having to speak up as his laughter crescendoed. “Since you’re younger than me, that means you’re ‘bunso’, or the youngest.”

“Cheheheater!” Aether cried out, slapping the mattress with his hands weakly as Thoma continued to tickle him. Bunso wasn’t even a body part, so how was he even supposed to get that? Was he just supposed to tickle himself??

“Sorry to be deceiving,” Thoma snickered to himself, “but since you’re the bunso, that means I get to tickle you wherever.”

With that, Aether felt Thoma’s hands move over to his tummy, wailing as he felt his fingers dancing along the piece of bare skin that was revealed from his shirt riding upwards. His legs kicked and his arms flailed around as Thoma continued tickling one of his death spots, mentally slapping himself for falling for one of Thoma’s cheap tricks. He knew he would pull something like this at some point when Thoma brought up tickling as a potential learning tool.

“Wow, my bunso is so ticklish,” Thoma teased as Aether’s bright laughter filled the room, his fingers getting dangerously close to Aether’s bellybutton. 

“Thohohoma! Plehehehease!”

“Hmm, call me kuya instead.”

“KuhuhuyahAHAHAHA!” Aether shrieked when he felt one of Thoma’s fingers briefly dip into his navel, sending a surge of tickly sensations to his brain.

“Okay, okay, kuya’s sorry,” Thoma laughed as he removed himself from Aether, sitting beside the other boy on the bed as Aether recovered.

“You cheated,” Aether complained through his breathy pants, slapping playfully at Thoma’s arm from where he lay.

“Sorry, it was just too easy,” Thoma giggled to himself. “Tell you what; I’ll let you tickle me for as long as you want.”

Aether sat up excitedly, his eyes filled with vengeance. “Does kuya promise?”

Thoma couldn’t help but chuckle nervously to himself, already feeling a bit of regret. “Heh, yeah, kuya promises.”

[imagines-dreams]

Hiya could you do a dating zuko and being really shy headcanon please X?

Ok, I wrote so mannnnyyy headcanons, starting from Book 2 to frickin marriage, so feel free to read part of it of a lot, wouldn’t blame you if you stopped reading cuz holy shit this was long and i just didn’t edit it well, so... Hopefully, some people enjoy it though! So, happy reading!

Ok, look, any relationship with Zuko will need a lot of build up. He’s only been in one relationship, and that was with a girl he’s known since he was a kid. Other than her, the only person he truly trusted was his uncle.

And who could blame him? His father abused him, so becoming his friend, let alone someone he’d love, would be a long process.

So, any relationship will be a major slowburn. With someone very shy? It would be that slowburn that everyone would dream of in fiction.

First meet in Ba Sing Se when he was still going by Lee. He was very closed off, but his uncle wasn’t. Uncle would be thinking something along the lines of “A nice, quiet girl?! Who just wants to lay low and would probably make a great niece-in-law?! Perfect for my nephew who keeps getting into trouble!”

Still, neither you nor “Lee” could really deny him. 

Uncle “Mushi” had learned from trying to set Lee up with Jin. No real date. Just friends first. 

There were a lot of dinners with Lee and his uncle among other friends the two had made in Ba Sing Se. Uncle Mushi usually told funny stories, and he commanded the room. Lee was just quiet. He smiled sometimes, you could count how many times you saw him smile during dinner on your hands.

Still, you two talked sometimes, mostly laughing and sharing confused looks at his uncle’s outrageous stories. 

You also would be able to see him every so often when you were shopping or just going about your day. 

You also knew they were firebenders. Or at least Fire Nation. Fire Nation refugees weren’t too common, but they weren’t rare either. After seeing Zuko write firelily once, it confirmed your suspicions. 

You didn’t say anything though. If they wanted to tell you, they’d tell you.

One night, you saw a crowd of people. They were gathered around Lee, and Lee had a sword?! “Lee!”

The boy fighting your friend glanced at you and scoffed. “Is that even your name? Or do you lie to your girlfriend, too?”

Too distracted by your fear for Lee to even process what the other boy said, you bended the earth around his opponent. One wall to block him from Lee. Another three to keep him boxed in. 

Your legs ached. Bending took way too much energy, especially since you hadn’t used it in years. You heaved and fell to your knees. 

Someone said your name.

Lee bent down and held out his hand.

You gladly took it and let him help you up. “Sorry,” you managed to say as you fell into him. You were so weak.

Lee pulled your arm over his shoulder so he could properly support you. He was talking to someone, and from your peripheral vision, you could see the uniform of the Dai Lee. 

Scared, you leaned more into Lee. 

One of the Dai Lee came to you. “Why were you earthbending?” he asked.

“Uncle.” Lee shoved you behind him and right into his uncle’s arms. “She was defending me.”

“She shouldn’t have been earthbending regardless, especially in such a violent matter.”

“Violent?” Lee’s grip on the sword tightened. “The only one who was violent was him.” He pointed at the other boy. “Accusing my uncle and me for being firebenders.”

You reached out, regaining your energy as each second passed, and placed it on his shoulder. “Lee.”

He looked back at you and sighed. Thankfully, he let go of his sword.

“We are refugees,” Lee’s uncle explained. 

A few other people from the crowd rallied for them. They knew Lee and his uncle in for the delicious tea they served. 

All while the boy Lee was fighting was screaming at everyone, how stupid they all were when Lee and his uncle were obviously firebenders. He was taken away with the Dai Lee.

You admitted that you knew they were firebenders that night. And it didn’t go badly! Their jaws dropped, and it was comical to see Lee’s face contort into more expressions you had never seen before. 

After that, the friendship only grew stronger. You picked up a few other things about Lee as well. A father he wanted to impress. An absent mother. A weird knowledge about ships and the war. There were more glances and subtle touches, him adjusting your collar, handing him tea so your fingers brushed ever so slightly, bumping elbows at the table. You even got into the schoolgirl habit of writing Lee’s name and yours and staring at him from across the room.

Then… they disappeared. 

It wasn’t uncommon for refugees to disappear, but usually they’d tell someone where they were going, if they were in trouble. 

You expected them to reappear, but nothing happened. Of course you were sad they were gone, but that’s how life went in Ba Sing Se, and you didn’t know enough about them to go searching, nor the time. 

Especially since shortly after Lee and his uncle disappeared, Ba Sing Se was conquered. Everything changed. Benders were being rounded up. More people were disappearing. The walls were all coming down. Money was scarce. Soldiers patrolled the entire area. 

During this time, you wanted to lay low, but people were getting hurt. You could only stand by for so long. 

You started to train, every night, hoping your earthbending would get better. 

So, when Ba Sing Se went up in flames, you joined in to fight for the city you felt safe in. You found Uncle Mushi there, fighting with some organization called the White Lotus. You also found out that his name was Iroh, not Mushi.

After fighting off Fire Nation supremacists, you were invited to the Jade Dragon. 

“Hey. Zuko, or, um, I guess Lee, here.” 

You had laughed and hugged him tight. “I was so scared for you,” you admitted. “I’m glad you’re ok.”

It wasn’t until one of his friends cleared their throat that you realized this hug was the first hug you’ve given him. On top of that, you were holding onto each other for quite some time. 

So, the two of you split up. 

However, throughout the get together, you stayed close with L- Zuko. You didn’t really talk much to his friends. Just the introductions and listening to their stories. They seemed really happy to tell you about how they defeated the Fire Nation and ended the war. 

Who wouldn’t be?

“You’re the Fire Lord?” you asked Zuko, away from the others.

“Oh, yeah, I am now.”

You gazed up at him. “That’s incredible.” You laughed. “Should I have bowed? I feel like I should’ve done something.”

“No. No, it’s fine.”

“Oh, then, I can still call you Zuko?”

He laughed a little. “Just not Lee.”

Just like that, you had new friends. As the year went on, you developed relationships with everyone. Sokka loved to creatively use your earthbending. (He said Toph would never let them make toys with earthbending.) Aang loved making you laugh, so he loved to tell you jokes and play games with you. Toph loved, well, trying to train you. She wasn’t the best teacher for you, too demanding and very rude, but you did learn the basics of metalbending after a few months. 

Katara was the kindest out of all of them, and you both loved telling each other stories about your lives before the end of the war. Suki insisted on training you. Even though there was no more war to fight, you had to admit, she was the perfect teacher for you. Kind but stern. 

You started to travel with everyone, giving every long-winded plan and daring choice a logical backing. Making sure the risks they were taking weren’t too great.

You visited the Zuko the most. It even got to the point that Zuko had a room made for you, with your own closet and Earth Kingdom decor. 

There were still the longing gazes and fleeting touches. You always took the opportunity to help him with his formal attire. After all, you didn’t want him to stress himself too much with that scar on his chest. 

But nothing ever happened. Even though Zuko trusted you and you trusted him, neither of you were brave enough to make the first move. 

The gaang was very fed up with it, honestly. Sokka and Toph came up with the most obvious ways to literally shove you two towards each other. Once at a diplomatic gathering in the Northern Water Tribe, Sokka pulled you towards the middle of the dance floor while Toph shoved Zuko in your direction until the two of you bumped into each other. 

Aang was in on it, too. He requested music.

Zuko and you danced, blushing and awkwardly trying to sway without being awkward. 

“I hate my friends,” he mumbled.

You laughed, the awkwardness immediately gone. “They are kinda horrible, aren’t they?” 

Still no confession, but you still had a great time dancing with your best friend.

(The gaang wanted to pull their hair out. Seriously, you two were so obvious!)

As the years passed, Zuko and you acted more and more like a couple. Where there were brushes of skin against skin slowly became holding each other’s hand during boring meetings. Where there were short-lived gazes unseen by the other became smiles and knowing looks after an easy fight. Where there were hugs before leaving became long embraces followed by kisses on the cheek. 

There were some more intense moments, like when Ozai’s supporters attacked the palace and you ran out of safety and to Zuko. While you weren’t as great as a fighter, you could still do a solid defense, and when it came to Zuko, you defended him with your life. 

“What are you doing here?!”

You grunted as you put up a wall between the two of you and the Ozai sympathizers. “Stopping you from burning the palace down apparently!”

Even after all those years, he had a tendency to be reckless.

Or the time some Water Tribe assassins tried attacking you and him and he shoved you behind him to defend you.  “Stay back!”

“Let me help!”

Everyone just assumed you were a couple, and really, nobody could blame them. 

The confession came quietly. 

You and Zuko had just finished a shift at the Jasmine Dragon. It was a day of serving the people of the Ba Sing Se, of smiles and laughter, and of shared inside jokes between you, Zuko, and Uncle Iroh.

And when it came time to go to sleep, Uncle Iroh was distraught. “I can’t believe this happened!” He dug through the cabinets, throwing various things around the small apartment. “I knew you were coming, my dear, and I forgot to get a new bed for you!”

You laughed. “Uncle, it’s ok. You’ve been busy.”

Zuko just crossed his arms. “We’ve been preparing for her visit for weeks.”

“Which is why I can’t believe I forgot to make a bed!” Uncle iroh lamented. He stroked his beard. “Hm, I would share my bed, but I tend to snore and move quite a bit. Zuko! Why don’t you share your bed?”

While your cheeks burned in embarrassment, Zuko only glared at his uncle. “Fine.”

To be fair, Zuko and you have slept in the same bed before. Sometimes work went on for too long and you two happened to fall asleep in the same bed. But all those times before were by accident on a bed meant for two. Not on a bed meant for one and not on purpose.

After the awkward tiptoeing around and offerings to sleep on the floor, finally, the two of you agreed to sleep on the bed. Zuko held you close, your back to his chest. Both of you purposely chose that position so that no one could see the other blush. 

As the years, actually minutes, passed by, the both of you relaxed into it, and it was almost natural. 

“You know,” you said softly, “that I love you, right?”

Zuko was quiet, and you hoped to the spirits he was sleeping. After a while with no answer, you took a deep breath and tried to go to sleep. 

That is, until Zuko admitted,  “I’m not good at these things.”

“Neither am I.”

The arm around your waist tightened, and you couldn’t help but snuggle closer into his embrace. 

“I love you, too,” he said. 

That was enough for the two of you, at least for one night. You two loved each other and that was enough.

The next morning was busy. The schedule was just to serve at the Jasmine Dragon and you had an appointment with some historians who wanted to know more about Zuko’s first time in Ba Sing Se. Zuko and Iroh, however, had a meeting at the palace.

Zuko was rushing around, trying to find all the pieces of his popper attire before leaving, while Uncle Iroh was trying to get him to eat breakfast. You were just smiling at all of it, pouring some cups of tea.

Zuko glanced at the window. “Uncle, we’re going to be late! Do you even have your clothes?”

“Of course, I have. But did you have food yet? At least some tea.”

“Yes, tea!” You lifted up a fresh cup of jasmine. “Zuko, you should have something before you leave.”

“I don’t need-” 

His eyes meant yours, and you only handed him the cup of jasmine tea. “You’re welcome. Also, you have some dim sum in your bag.”

He shook his head, downed the entire hot cup, and called again, “Uncle!” He smiled at you. “Thanks, bye.” He kissed you and was out the door. 

It took a few seconds, and he had left you speechless. And judging by the way he didn’t say anything before he ran out the door with Uncle Iroh behind him, he didn’t notice.

It took you a while to realize what exactly happened. 

Zuko downed some tea you gave him.

He turned around, called his uncle, then just kissed you.

He just leaned over, pressed his lips against yours for a second, maybe less. 

Then, he left.

You loved him, and he loved you. The two of you admitted that you loved each other, but the topic was too heavy and scary to clarify it further. Was that kiss a sign? Were you two together? Was that kiss some sort of rite of passage?

The rest of your day went by in a fog. 

You served tea. You smiled and had polite conversations. You listened to historians and corrected a fact here or there. 

And when Zuko finally came home, you were preparing the food you had bought, and you were frozen for a second.

“Uncle’s gone out for dinner.” He let his hair down and ran his fingers through it. 

(He had been growing it out. You had learned that hair was really important in Fire Nation culture, and apparently, before he and Uncle left for Ba Sing Se, they cut their hair, some sort of symbol that they weren’t working for the Fire Nation anymore)

You just hummed and started to prepare a serving for Uncle’s late night snack. But then! Zuko was behind you and looking at the food you had gotten.

And you were silently screaming on the inside! Because if you just turned around, and if he just leaned down, you two would be kissing. And he already kissed you! But he didn’t seem to remember that! He was just! Casually talking to you!

“What did you get?” he asked. Such an innocent question from a man who wasn’t innocent because he had kissed you

You barely managed to stutter, “O-oh, some, uh, pho.” You smiled and handed him his share. “Here!” Immediately, you turned back around to avoid him

And Zuko, baffled, just stood there, unsure as to why you were acting so strangely. You weren’t mad. Whenever you had some sort of problem with him, you would retreat into yourself, unintentionally give him the silent treatment, almost as if he was a stranger to you.

But this, the awkward glances and the too-quick movements, that was new territory. 

At first, Zuko thought it was about what had happened the night before, but just as he was about to ask again, he remembered what had happened in the morning.

The kiss

He groaned. “I’m sorry. I told you I was bad at this!” He didn’t throw the bowl of pho on the floor, but the bowl did make a loud sound and soup did spill when he let it fall onto the table. 

You turned to see him covering his face with his hands and shaking his head. “I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.” When he uncovered his face, he didn’t meet your eyes. 

Zuko looked so sad.

And you couldn’t have that. You loved him too much to let him be sad. 

Before you could even comprehend what you were doing, you were cradling his cheeks and looking up into his amber eyes. Under his intense gaze, you were a little nervous, but the want to comfort him was stronger. “I’m bad at this, too.”

And then, you were kissing him

And it was everything. Kissing the man you loved, it was the best feeling, because you were trying to take care of him, he was trying to take care of you. Holding you close and rubbing circles into the small of your back, all to comfort you.

And when he pulled away, Zuko told you, “You’re not bad at that.”

You laughed and nuzzled your nose against his. “Neither are you.”

Safe to say that when Iroh came home to find you and his nephew snuggled up together in the bed he forced the two of you to share, he smiled and wrote letters to the rest of the gang immediately.

There were pros and cons to Uncle finding out before you told him. Pro, you didn’t have to tell him. Con, you two woke up to Uncle Iroh cooking a large meal fit for an army and a hug for you while he shouted, “Good morning, my new niece-in-law!”

You were embarrassed, to say the least, but you felt better when Zuko tugged you closer to him and told his uncle, “You can’t possibly believe that we could eat all of this.”

“No, you can’t.” Iroh beamed. “But I can! I’m celebrating! A niece! I have a niece!” 

In two weeks, Uncle, Zuko, and you were back in the Fire Nation. 

There was a party when you arrived. Not for the Fire Lord’s return. No, it was your friends celebrating that you and Zuko were finally together.

“Double date!” Sokka was hanging off of you and pointed at his girlfriend, “We need couple friends.”

“Hey!” Aang said, “Don’t Katara and I count?”

“No, my sister and her boyfriend can’t be mine and Suki’s couple friends.” He grimaced. “I already see you guys kiss enough.”

Katara rolled her eyes and kissed her boyfriend’s cheek.

“Eugh!” Sokka hid behind you. “Save me! I’m being tortured.”

Zuko shook his head and asked Suki, “We’re leaving him home on our double dates, right?”

“Oh yeah.” She laughed and dragged her boyfriend from behind you. “Come on.”

Zuko and you were apprehensive to be seen in public, but you two have known each other for years, loved each other for almost as much time. 

“My mother was forced into marriage,” Zuko said one night, almost a year after the two of you had kissed. “My father was told by a sage that he must marry my mother to ensure the family bloodline. They were right, but in the wrong way, i guess.”

You looked up from your scroll and asked out of curiosity, “Are all Fire Nation marriages arranged?”

“No, mostly for those of an upper class. I was arranged to have a marriage with Mai.”

“How is Mai?”

“Good. I received a letter from her and Ty Lee a few days ago.”

You smiled. “Do you think they’ll get engaged soon?”

“Definitely before we do.”

Before the two of you? Even though marriage was stressful and a huge step forward, you couldn’t help the little bubble of happiness that formed in your gut and transformed into a dreamy sigh of “We?”

Just like that, the Fire Lord went red in the cheeks. “I mean, because they’ve been together longer, so I would assume if we were to get married, well-” He cut himself off by groaning, which only got you to giggle. He stared at the ceiling. “Almost a year, and I’m still bad at this.”

You smiled and took his hand in yours. “You’re not bad at this.” 

He took a deep breath. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” You shrugged, and your voice softened when you said, “I can see us getting married, too.”

He smiled at you. “How do they do it in the Earth Kingdom?”

You hummed. “In Ba Sing Se, if two people were getting married, they just decided they would and move in together.” You bit your lip as you tried to think back on the times before Ba Sing Se. “I’ve heard of a tradition where people hold a party to announce their love and the ceremony ends when the couple leave for their house.”

“I see.” Zuko played with your fingers as he explained, “Here, one partner gives the other a ring, to symbolize- Wait.” He tilted his head. “In Ba Sing Se, would we be considered engaged already?”

You laughed, as heat settled in your cheeks. You and Zuko were a well-known couple in the Earth Kingdom, and since you did move into the palace, to some, you would be. “I guess we would!”

He nodded. “You ok with that?”

There was more to that question that meets the eye. The Fire Nation loved you, sure, but some parts didn’t. There was a group trying to rebel against the peace and prosperity Zuko and all of your friends have fought so hard to gain, a group that wanted Ozai or Azula back on the throne. They have made a few attempts on Zuko, none near successful. But, if you were to get engaged, they’d come after you, too. 

Being engaged to Zuko put a bigger target on your back.

“I’m ok with that.”

But, how could you be afraid of them when you had Zuko by your side?

“Good.”

You nodded. “Good.”

Zuko and you had two weddings. One in private on Ember Island with the gaang and a few close friends. It ended with you exchanging an Earth Kingdom bracelet for a Fire Nation crown. 

There was an afterparty, with dancing and a large feast. There were also speeches.

“You know, if anyone was going to marry the Firlord, I thought it was gonna be me-”

“Sokka!” Suki laughed.

“-or maybe my sister-”

Katara only rolled her eyes with a smile.

“-but if it couldn’t be either of us, I’m glad it’s you!”

“I couldn’t think of a better couple than you two,” Suki started. 

“Hey!” Sokka did not like that statement.

“Honestly, you two are already attractive by yourselves, but together?” Suki was smiling so innocently the entire time. “Hey, (Y/n), you sure you don’t wanna reconsider. I can show around Kyoshi Island sometime.”

“Ok that’s enough!” Sokka couldn’t drag his girlfriend out of the spotlight or stop her from saying how great Zuko and you were, but he did glare at both of you throughout the speech. “I’m watching you.”

“I’m sure you are, Sokka,” you told him. 

Your husband laughed. “I mean, if anyone was to take her away, I wouldn’t mind it being Suki.”

“Don’t test me, Sparky!”

It was funny how even though all of you were well into your 20’s, Sokka’s voice could still crack. 

Toph wasn’t one for speeches. She showed her love by keeping Sokka away from you two and pushing Suki towards you. She really loved the laugh. 

(You apologized to Sokka later with the gift of leftovers.)

Mai actually had a memorable speech. 

“Ty Lee wouldn’t let me put my name on her gift, which sucks.” She glared at her wife, who only smiled. “So, this is my gift for you. Not you, Zuko, but for your wife.” She smirked. “When Zuko was five he thought he could eat all the spicy food in the kitchen-”

“Mai!”

“-it didn’t end well.”

Toph also occupied Zuko while Mai rambled on about Zuko in his childhood. It was very fun.

Uncle Iroh also spoke. “I didn’t know this was supposed to be about embarrassing my nephew.”

“It wasn’t!”

“And that’s ok, because I have something on our dear bride.”

You paled. “Oh no.”

“If you aren’t aware, I knew (Y/n) during our time as fugitives, and she loved to stare at my nephew during his shifts.”

Your husband looked at you. “Did you?”

“Not that much!”

Uncle continued, “I also caught her doodling Lee’s name-”

“Uncle-”

“Please, Uncle, continue!”

Aang shave advice to the two of you. “Please talk to each other,” he said with a laugh. He recounted the times Katara and he didn’t communicate early in their relationship resulting in an unhealthy on and off relationship for a year before the two of them sat down and just talked. 

Katara gushed over how happy she was for the two of you. “Zuko was always grumpy, and I’m glad there’s someone he can be less grumpy with!”

Azula dropped in. She had escaped rehabilitation, and Zuko had let her go. It was near the end of the ceremony, and Zuko and you had snuck out to take a breather. 

He held you close as the two of you swayed to muted music. 

“I do hate to intrude.”

You yelped and the earth beneath Azula’s feet nearly threw her into the air. While her mind was still recovering, it seemed like her agility wasn’t affected. “To be fair, I did expect that reaction.”

“Azula?” Your husband kept his hand in your as he moved closer to his sister. “I-”

“Save it. I’m here to drop something off.” She held out a pouch for him to take. 

“Azula-”

“Zuko, I am not here to talk to you.”

You gulped. “Then what about me?” You smiled. “You can come home, Azula.”

If Azula was affected by your words, she didn’t let it show. 

Zuko took the pouch and by the time the two of you looked up, she was gone. 

Inside were two rings. 

Zuko laughed. “She probably stole these.”

“She could be living an honest life, too, you know?”

“Possibly. We don’t have to use these.”

You took the rings in your hands. They were beautifully crafted, and while gold was the main color, hints of red and green were there too. “If I can’t have Azula as a bridesmaid, then we might use her gifts.”

The public ceremony took place a few months later, and it was grand and very, very public. You were not comfortable. 

You could only change so much of it, though. 

Zuko and you would pull each other to the sidelines when it all got too much. Your friends gladly made excuses when you were absent. 

By the end, you were stuffed full with food and exhausted. 

“Please tell me marriage won’t be like this all the time.”

You laughed and sluggish cuddled up into his arms. “I can’t tell you. Never been married before.”

“The first few months were nice.”

“When no one knew.”

He laughed. “No big ceremonies or dumb speeches.”

“Or embassadors or loud music.” You sighed. “Kinda terrified, to be honest.”

You could feel Zuko stiffen under you, and immediately, you added, “I’m glad you and I get to go through it together, though.”

He nodded. “I do hate life less.”

As Fire Lady, you were kind and gentle, and while you did need breathers in meetings and galas and public events, you enjoyed helping people with policy changes and additions. 

Zuko encouraged you to take risks, and when you were too tired to voice your opinions, Zuko voiced them for you. 

You also were the only one who could calm down Zuko. While his temper wasn’t too much of a problem, sometimes he was so stressed that even the training room couldn’t hold in his anger. 

You’d lead him to your bedroom and just hold him, and if he wanted to talk, you listened. 

The two of you were the definition of quiet strength, and even though assassins and Ozai sympathizers tried to take you two down, you and your family never faltered, especially you and Zuko

[starryevermore]

long story short: the fight (13) ✧ sam and colby

long story short ✧a parallel universe snc au | ao3

disclaimer: i do not own any aspect of the karate kid universe. does not *totally* follow the karate kid canon (i’ve taken a few creative liberties). 

summary: the cobras chase down daniel and colby. 

word count: 1,871

warning(s): violence, bullying

Sam wrinkled his nose as Arden applied the paint to his face. There was nothing about this that he didn’t like. The stupid face paint that he wanted desperately to scratch off? Hated it. The stupid tight costume he was being forced to wear? Hated it. The fact that his best friend in all the universes was going to be beaten half to death by the end of the night? Hated it. And the fact that there was absolutely nothing he could do about it? Fucking hated it. 

But, Jesus Christ, if he had to deal with that absolute heartbreak, couldn’t he be in a more comfortable costume? Or, at the very least, couldn’t the MTD provide some sort of magic balm that made it look like he had on skull face paint but it was really just his face? Like how they had that magic paste that made Colby’s tattoos invisible? Why didn’t he ever get the good shit? 

And he grumbled as much to Arden about it. 

She only snorted. “Sorry, sugar, but it don’t work like that. I’ve already made things as comfortable as the MTD would allow. If I asked for one more thing, they’d probably just send back my head on a spike, and then you and Brock would really be screwed.” 

“Better your heard than Colby’s,” Sam muttered. 

Arden paused, her paint brush halfway in the air as she stared at him, both her eyebrows raised. “You wanna say that again, bitch?”

Sam narrowed his eyes. “Better. Your. Head. Than. Colby’s.” 

She ground her teeth together. “Now, listen, I know I ain’t your most favorite person in all the universes. I don’t expect to be. I’m makin’ you and Brock do a lot of real uncomfortable shit to get through this. And I don’t want you to like. But I do expect you to respect me ‘cause, at the end of the day, I’m what’s standing between you and your ability to go back to your home universe. I’m makin’ this process as quick and as painless as possible, but some eggs need to be cracked to make an omelette. Understand?”

“I guess.” 

Arden grabbed him by the chin and forced him to look her in the eyes. “No. I want a real answer. Do you understand? Or is there something else goin’ on that we need to talk about before the dance?” 

Sam almost felt like crying when she let go of the grip she had on his face. He was so fucking exhausted. He hated this. He hated everything about this stupid fucking universe now that he was in it. He hated that he had to practice karate, that he had to train and train and train his ass off at the Cobra Kai dojo and then he’d have to do the exact same thing when he got back to the apartment. He hated that he had to pretend to be a black belt in karate when he didn’t have the first clue what he was doing, just so he could compete in that stupid fucking All Valley Tournament. He hated the lies. He hated the pain. But, most of all, he hated that he knew Colby had it so much worse. All Sam ever wanted to do was shield Colby from the pain and the hurt of the world. And he did a damn good job of it, back in their home universe. He distracted Colby from outright hurtful comments, from the ones that oversexualized him first and treated him like a real person last, from the ones that ripped any woman Colby hung out with to shreds for simply existing in the same time and place as him. He did so much back home, but here? He couldn’t do that. No, instead, he had to directly contribute to the pain and the torment, and he didn’t know how much more of it he could take. 

“I just…I don’t want Colby to be hurt tonight,” Sam said. But, then, he quickly added, “And I know that it has to happen. Colby has to have reason to learn karate from Mr. Miyagi so that he can make sure everything is still going according to plan. I get that. But, he’s my best friend. And I hate to see shit like this happen to him.”

Arden sighed, and set the paint brush down. “I get that. Really, I do. I had to watch so many videos of the two of you before I took this assignment so that I could be best prepared to go about this whole operation. And I know how close you two are, how you’re practically the same person at times. And I know it really hurts to have to do this, and be told that it’s necessary to hurt your best friend. But, believe me when I tell you that I’m tryin’ to make this as easy as possible. The MTD wanted Brock to be more bulled than he is, they wanted him to be on the same level of torment as Daniel. But I knew that could never work, ‘cause I know that neither you nor him could handle it. I’ve done so much, but there’s only so much I can do. If it was up to me, I would’ve had you pulled right after the soccer tryouts. But I still have a boss to answer to, and they just…we don’t see eye to eye on it.” 

“I know. It just, it hurts.” He looked at her, hope in his eyes, as he asked, “Is there any chance I don’t have to take part tonight?” 

Arden shook her head. “I wish I could let that happen. But the MTD has made themselves clear on this. You have to be one of the Cobras tonight. But…Maybe, if it helps, you could be like Bobby? Try and stop Johnny, and never lay a hand on Brock personally?”

“But Colby will still be hurt.” 

“Sam…”

“I know, I know. It has to be done.” 

“If it helps, most of the aggression will be focused on Daniel.” 

“It doesn’t help.” He looked in the mirror, at the half-finished paint job on his face. “Let’s just finish this up and get it over with already.”

When Daniel ran straight into the Cobras as he came out of the bathroom, Sam knew it was all over. He hadn’t had much fun at the dance—he had to watch as his best friend played lone wolf for the night and couldn’t do anything about it, and he knew just how the night would end: with a blood bath. But he couldn’t let his unease reveal itself, so he plastered on a fake smile and pretended to be excited about smoking with the Cobras and doing dumb teenager shit. But, when Johnny came running out of the bathroom after Colby and Daniel, Sam knew it was all over. 

As they chased Colby and Daniel threw the streets of the Valley, it took everything Sam had to fall behind in the group. Sam was a good runner, and he knew it. One of his greatest accomplishments was beating his record in track, and then running a six minute mile nearly six years later. He was damn good runner, but today? He couldn’t be. He refused to get in the zone, to lead the group to his best friend. He was not going to participate in this anymore than he had to. 

So, he stayed the back as Daniel and Colby scaled fences and ran across fields to get to the South Seas apartment complex. Sam wasn’t the biggest fan of showing weakness, of showing his emotions and wearing his heart on sleeve, but tonight might have to be one of those exceptions. 

And, for a second, Sam forgot about the events of the movie, and he thought that Daniel and Colby might be in the clear as they scaled the final fence between them and their respective apartments. But, alas, that was not one of the things that changed when Colby got them into this predicament. Nope, Johnny still grabbed Daniel off the fence, hissing, “You ain’t going nowhere.” The only difference? Dutch was pulling Colby off the fence, too. 

“You little wimp!” one of them taunted—Sam didn’t care enough to differentiate who was who. 

One of the Cobras, Jimmy, Sam was pretty sure that was Jimmy, help a squirming Colby by the arms while Johnny held onto Daniel, hissing, “You couldn't leave well enough alone, could you, little twerp? No, you had to push it. Well, now you're gonna pay!”

Johnny punched Daniel in the stomach, and he toppled over. As Daniel heaved, he turned to Colby, and hissed, “And you just had to stick your nose where it didn’t belong, didn’t ya?” 

And before Sam could even process what was happening, Johnny hit Colby square in the nose. Daniel, in the mean time, made the move to leave, but ran straight into Dutch’s arms, who pushed him back and taunted, “Where are you going, sweetheart?”

Johnny kicked Daniel in the face, and he fell straight to the ground. Johnny turned his attention to Colby, next, and kicked in the stomach, and he collapsed to the ground. He delivered another kick to the face, this time, and Sam was sure that Colby had been knocked out cold.

“How about a front kick, Johnny?” Tommy suggested as Daniel was pulled back up, and Johnny was more than happy to oblige.

“Get him up!” Johnny shouted when Daniel fell to the ground again.

  “Leave him alone, man, he’s had enough!” Bobby said. 

“Shut up, Bobby!” Dutch said as he supported Daniel’s deadweight.

“Look at him, Dutch! He can't even stand up!” Bobby said. 

“So what?”

“That don't mean squat!” Dutch snapped. 

Rage flashed in Bobby’s eyes as he turned and stormed up to Johnny. He pointed a finger in the blond’s face and shouted, “Leave him alone, man, he’s had enough!”

“I'll decide when he's had enough!” 

“He can’t even stand!” Sam added, stomping up to Johnny. “And you already knocked the other one out!”

Bobby shot Sam a brief but grateful look, before zeroing in on the blond again. “What is wrong with you, Johnny?!”

“An enemy deserves no mercy!” Johnny shouted. 

“Right!” Dutch agreed. 

“Right?” 

“Right!”

“You're crazy, man!” Bobby shouted as Johnny charged at Daniel again. 

But, before he could strike the kid again, Mr. Miyagi jumped down from the top of the fence, pushing Daniel out of the way and making Johnny kick the fence. There was a brief hesitation before Johnny shouted, “Tommy, Bobby, get him!”

Before Sam could blink, Mr. Miyagi had already taken them out before he turned to him and Jimmy. And he could barely even process the fighting stance he had fallen into before he was flipped by the small men, hitting his head back on the cold ground and groaning lowly. 

Fuck, Sam thought as he heard Dutch and Johnny be taken out too. But, he thought, at least he knew that Colby was being taken to safety. And that gave him enough peace to rest his eyes and succumb to the pain.

[foursideharmony]

The Cat, the Prince, and the Doorway to Imagination (Chapter 8)

Summary: Before there can be a mending, there must be a shattering...

Pairings: Platonic/familial LAMP/CALM, Platonic/familial DLAMPR

Content Warnings: Unconsciousness, extreme self-doubt, ugly crying, profanity

Word Count: 3,923

Read on AO3: here

Patton knelt beside Roman and maneuvered an arm behind his shoulders in order to lift him into a reclining position. The Creative Side remained worryingly unconscious—the Witch's power had evidently been shielding him from the effects of cold exposure, and he had traded his ethereal pallor for a sickly one. “He's chilled,” Patton reported. “Maybe a little shocky from the stress. We ought to get him underground and into some nice warm blankets.”

“Maybe it serves him right,” Virgil muttered even as he slipped out of his fur coat and laid it over the prince, relying on his hoodie to keep himself warm enough in the meantime. “So now what?”

“Aw, all those cool gross monster things are leaving!” Remus said, peering down the slope of the hill. “I wanted to see a gory battle! From the inside!”

“Can't you?” Virgil said acidly. “I thought you said you'd get control of the Imagination if Roman got knocked out.”

“I said I'd get control if I knocked Roman out. It's part of the whole sibling rivalry thing. We fight over who gets to play with the good toys. Didn't you notice that nothing has really changed around here? We're still in Roman's story.” He looked pensive, which was always a dangerous sign. “I guess I could try to clock him one anyway, but I don't know if it would work when he's unconscious already.” He shrugged. “Oh well, maybe he'll get frostbite and his fingers and toes will turn black and fall off! That would be a hoot!”

“Eugh, why are you like this?” said Virgil.

“Don't you dare touch him,” Patton said firmly. “That's one experiment that is not happening today.” He lifted Roman a little more and tucked the edges of the coat under him.

“How's he looking?” asked Virgil.

“I don't think he's getting any worse, at least. I still want to get him inside one of the shelters.”

“Something tells me that's actually not going to be necessary,” said Janus, speaking for the first time since he had managed to trigger Roman's sudden turnaround. He pointed toward the area of thick forest roughly to the east of the hill. “I do so hate to correct you, Remus, but that looks like change to me.”

All the trees in a roughly circular patch had lost their coatings of snow and displayed either dark needles or bare gray-brown branches. The patch was slowly growing, and as they watched, a trail of the same phenomenon formed, leading off of the main area and meandering toward the hill. The forest sparkled as drops of newly melted water fell from twigs and caught the sun, and before long, those twigs began to mist over with pale green.

The trail reached the edge of the forested area, and there emerged from the trees...a tawny, long-haired cat. As it paced forward, the snow vanished under its paws, revealing dark, damp earth from which grass immediately began to sprout. The cat began to climb the Hill of the Stone Table, and with every step, the nascent springtime spread farther and, astonishingly, the cat grew larger . Before it was halfway up the slope, it was somewhere between a lynx and a leopard in size and still growing. Its shaggy fur clustered around its neck and shoulders, its jaws became heavier, its tail acquired a tuft at the end. It was a lion that reached the crest of the hill, the snow fleeing before him, paws striking the ground like miniature earthquakes, tiny white and yellow flowers bursting from the ground in his wake.

The response of the assembled Narnians was immediate, collective, and extreme. They didn't drop to the ground kneeling or bowing, as one might expect in the presence of their King, but ran to the Lion, keening with delight and adoration. Talking Beasts nuzzled his paws and flanks, Fauns and Dwarfs combed their fingers through his mane, and the whole throng constantly called out his name— “Aslan, Aslan!” —the various tones and pitches of their voices overlapping and blending together into a susurration like surf on a beach.

Aslan, for his part, returned their affection in full, dipping his head to brush whiskers with the beasts, swishing his tail to tickle the Fauns. Yet he maintained his pace as he continued toward the center of the hilltop, toward where the Sides were watching the proceedings with awkward astonishment, like the outsiders they were. Remus stared at the great Lion with mixed apprehension and fascination. Janus looked like he'd rather be anywhere else, but understood that even the most casual exit would only attract attention. Virgil stood stiffly as if pinned in place, splitting the difference between terror and giddy excitement and landing somewhere in the vicinity of shock. And Patton...

Patton certainly hadn't forgotten about Roman, but at the sight of Aslan's approach, he was moved to lay the Prince back down on the warming ground and step forward, shy and sentimental, to greet Aslan.

“We've already met, haven't we,” he said. It wasn't a question. Aslan nodded. “Thank you, for what you did yesterday. It helped Ailim a lot. Me too.”

Aslan turned in a slow circle, his gaze sweeping to encompass the entire gathering in turn. At last he spoke, in a voice as heavy and rich as gold itself. “Things are beginning to be set right. But there are yet choices to be made.” He walked over to Roman and bent to sniff him, causing him to flinch and whimper, but not waken just yet.

“Is Roman going to be okay?” asked Patton.

“Physically, he will,” Aslan replied. “As for the rest...that is largely up to him.” He swept his golden gaze over the crowd once more. “Shouldn't there be one more of you?”

“If you're talking about Logan,” Virgil said, “he...wait, why am I telling you? Aren't you supposed to be all-knowing or whatever?

Aslan actually smiled slightly. “Indeed. Bring him here.” A small group of Narnians jumped up to fetch Logan from where they had hidden him earlier in order to make Janus's illusion convincing. “As for the rest of you...you may wish to cover your ears.”

They did (except for Remus, who tried to pull his off entirely and discovered too late that he couldn't), and even so, Aslan's roar was an almost solid physical force. A shockwave of sorts spread out from the hill at tremendous speed, and as it passed it obliterated the hundred-year winter—no slow melting of snow, no gentle emergence of leaf buds, but an instant replacement of one season by the next. In a mere moment, the white and gray world had been made over into one of azure and earthy brown and every possible shade of green, splashed here and there with delicate floral pastels.

And there was another instantaneous effect. The sheer noise of it woke Roman up. His eyes sprang open and he gasped, body twitching as every nerve and muscle was startled into full alertness. He flailed for a moment before managing to sit up just as the roar died away. He looked around wildly, apparently not recognizing his greatly altered surroundings, until his eyes focused and his glance fell upon the Lion.

Roman's face crumpled. He made a tiny noise of anguish and turned around so that he wasn't facing Aslan, or the other Sides, or anyone.

“Roman...” Patton said. “It's gonna be—”

“I'll go,” Roman said into his own knees. “I'll leave the Imagination running so you can keep the story going until you're ready to stop.”

“Roman. Do not run from this,” Aslan said softly. “You have wronged your companions. You must face those wrongs if you wish to ever dispel them.”

“Dispel them...” Roman repeated bitterly. “Are you sure I'm not meant to keep on compounding them?”

“Okay, Princey, enough,” said Virgil, stepping forward and grasping Roman's shoulder in a gesture that was equal parts friendly and forceful. “Lay off the self-pity already. Nobody here expects you to be the bad guy. Nobody here thinks you're the bad guy unless something goes really wrong, which apparently it did. And I can definitely tell you that nobody here wants you to be the bad guy. You owe us all an apology, but that can wait. The most important thing right now is that you fix that.” He pointed across the hilltop to where the Narnians were just settling the Logan-statue into place.

Roman's eyes found it, and his expression collapsed all over again, this time with a faint greenish tinge. But he steeled himself, got his feet under himself (pointedly ignoring Virgil's offer of a hand up), and made himself walk over to the quartz form of his friend. “I-I don't know if I can,” he said. “I used the Witch's power to...and I don't have it anymore. She has it back now, she's back, and—”

“Try,” said Aslan, the single syllable falling like the closing of an oaken door.

Roman made a short nod, gulping hard, and set his attention to undoing the enchantment. He drew his sword, willed it to act again as a magic wand, and focused on Logan. On making flesh (or whatever the Sides were, in the mindscape) instead of stone. On making him live again. He put all his power of wishing into it.

Nothing happened. Logan remained frozen in crystal. Roman staggered back a step or two, panting with distress. “I am losing control over the Imagination,” he said in a voice that was almost a squeak. “I can't even... It's probably for the reason Patton said. I...I...” Without another word, he dropped his sword and fled down the slope of the hill and into the green trees.

“Roman, wait!” called Patton, to no effect.

“Bye, bro!” Remus added with an over-the-top wave.

“I will see to him,” said Aslan. “But first...” He nosed Logan for a moment, then huffed out a breath over him. Satisfied, he padded away after Roman.

For a moment still, nothing changed. Virgil was the one to spot the subtle first sign: the dark lines filling themselves in on Logan's chest, tracing the shape of his logo, the bespectacled brain. The black color spread out quickly from there as his shirt softened into fabric, and within seconds, his face and hands flushed peach, his hair was brown and rippling in the light breeze, and Logan was back and... toppling over with a little shout of surprise as he overbalanced.

“LOGAN!” Patton exulted, tackle-hugging the Logical Side in his unbridled joy, adding to the confusion of his waking.

They decided later that it was, on the whole, worth it.

Start small.

It wasn't the first time Roman had lost control over the Imagination during an adventure. The stories sometimes took on a life of their own, after all, and that occasionally meant defying the author no matter how he tried to assert himself.

What was different this time was that he had also become the villain. The story had pushed him into it, but...had it, really? That was the question that needed answering.

I thought I was your hero...

Thomas doesn't want a wicked Creativity...

If he could take control back, then it meant he wasn't the bad guy after all, and things would be all right.

He had found a shaded grove with bare, reasonably dry dirt that he could sit on while he brooded and tried the smallest thing of all: making a mushroom. If he could coax a little fungus cap up out of the soil, he would know he wasn't too far gone. If not...well...better just focus on doing it.

So far, no luck. The ground remained agonizingly mushroom-free.

He became aware of a looming presence in the grove with him, and barely glanced over his shoulder at the bulky form of Aslan. “Oh. Hi,” he said. There didn't seem to be much else to say.

“I have restored Logan, and he is well,” said the Lion.

Roman turned back to his total lack of mushrooms. “Of course you did,” he sighed. “I made you to be able to do everything Aslan can in the books. Which is pretty much everything , since...you know. So why can't I do any of it now?” He blinked back a tear or two. “Why couldn't I fix Logan?”

“You did very well. You tried. That was all I asked.”

“For all the good it did.” He pulled up a handful of new grass and let the blades fall, a few at a time, through his fingers. “I don't know what to do anymore. I made all of this—I made you—so I could give them a fun, simple adventure and be the hero in a world where heroism and villainy are clean-cut...and it turned out I was supposed to be the villain all along. What do I do with that? Patton said it: Thomas doesn't want a wicked Creativity. I can't make his dreams come true if I'm not the hero...but even the Imagination doesn't want me to be the hero anymore...so what does that leave?”

Aslan circled around until he was in front of Roman and lay down on his belly, his bulk making the grove tremble. “Roman...do you really believe you are meant to be the villain?”

“I must be. I voluntarily went to the Witch. We...I stole your power! And then I took the Witch's power! I basically became her!”

“Yes. And then you released my power, and in the process gave up hers. You chose to turn away from that path. And I would say that the change began even earlier. Do you remember how you came to acquire the Witch's power?”

“Of course. I took it from her because she was...” Roman's eyes widened. “Because she was going to hurt the others, and it was the only way to keep them safe. I didn't even intend to take it for myself, it just happened that way.”

“Precisely. In a world where heroism and villainy are clean-cut...what would you call someone who thwarts a villain in order to protect the innocent?”

Roman made a half-hearted snicker. “You know, you sounded like Logan just then.”

“Are you avoiding the question?”

“No...but even if I was a hero in that moment, I sure went hard to the bad afterward.”

“Until you stopped yourself.”

For the first time, Roman actually lifted his head to meet Aslan's gaze. He studied the Lion's bottomless amber eyes, looking for even a hint of manipulation, but found only absolute sincerity. After a long moment, he found his words again.

“So which am I? The hero or the villain?”

“Any answer I could give to that question would be misleading. You worry too much about what you are. You might do better to think instead about what you choose to do. And what you will choose to do.”

“One thing's for sure...like Virgil said, I owe the others a major apology.”

“Indeed you do.”

“But I don't know if I can face them yet.”

“Try,” Aslan said as he had before...except that his tone was much lighter this time. “I will be with you.”

“Will they forgive me?”

“There is only one way to find out.”

Roman nodded slowly, and carefully stood. “Let's find out, then.”

At his feet, unnoticed, a tiny mushroom swelled from the earth.

A hush fell over the hilltop as Roman returned, walking stiffly as if he had to force every step. His head was slumped, his arms folded tightly across his chest. Aslan trailed him by several paces, and hung back when Roman stopped, a courteous distance from the other Sides. He didn't look up as he took a deep breath and said, “I...I have...something to say,” in a thick voice.

The others all traded glances. And traded glances again. “Go on...” Patton prompted in as neutral a tone as he could manage.

It seemed an eternity before Roman forced “...i'm sorry...” through a throat half-clogged with unshed tears. Suddenly he was sobbing into his hands, his knees slowly buckling.

Patton lunged for him, but to his surprise, Virgil beat him by a hair, gathering the Prince into his arms and helping him down into a kneeling position on the grass. “I gotcha, Princey,” he said. “Get it out, it'll be okay.”

“I'm so, so sorry!” Roman wailed, clutching at Virgil as he were the edge of a cliff. “It wasn't what I wanted at all but it seemed like the Imagination did and...Patton, I'm sorry about the ice, and Logan—oh, god, Logan, I'm SO sorry I...” He trailed off into more wrenching, ugly sobs while Virgil tightened the huge, Patton joined in, and Logan placed a steady hand on Roman's heaving shoulders. Without at any point speaking the words “I forgive you,” all three of them made them understood.

(Unnoticed by the four of them, Remus stepped forward and opened his mouth to say something. Janus calmly silenced him.)

Roman cried for a long time. He cried until he was out of tears and nearly out of breath, until the exertion of bawling left him limp in the others' arms. Only then did the storm finally subside, leaving Roman with a peculiar empty space inside him where something had drained away. At its center was a hard, sharp little knot of hurt, no longer wrapped in the resentment and bluster he had been using to cushion it. He sagged, depleted and hollow, in the embrace of his companions, and like opposing magnetic fields, their presence kept the nugget of pain suspended safely away from his emotional nerves, until by and by something new began to trickle into the empty place to shield him from the sharpest edges.

Roman took a deep breath, and felt as though he were breathing in light. “So,” he said, hoarse but with a genuine warmth that they had all been missing, “I've been acting like an idiot, haven't I?”

There was a pause, and then Virgil said, “You were acting?”

Roman shoved him away with amused annoyance, and the whole scene might have dissolved into absurdity had Janus not loudly and meaningfully cleared his throat. Roman was suddenly intensely, mortifyingly aware of their audience, and he got to his feet, slapping grass debris off his trousers, cheeks burning with more than just tear tracks.

“Far be it from me to interfere with you four,” Janus said, “but are we all done here? No loose ends to tie up?”

Remus pried his hand free of his mouth with his other hand. “Heh heh, you said 'tie up!' What about me, Roman? Don't I get an apology?”

Roman pulled a face. “I haven't done anything to you. And as for you...” he went on, turning to Janus, “...I don't know if I'm ready to be sorry yet.”

“Fair enough, I suppose. I appreciate your honesty.”

“Do you, though?”

Janus shrugged extravagantly, half-smiling.

“But to answer your question...you can all leave if you want. The Imagination will let you out. But I still need to deal with the White Witch.”

“But you were the White Witch,” said Janus. “Weren't you?”

“Not exactly. I took her...I'll tell you how that all worked later, if you want. The point is, she's back now, as herself, and she still needs to be defeated if this story is to have a proper happy ending.”

“That doesn't seem so hard,” said Patton. “Aslan is here and he brought spring back, you're here and we've made up...if we're following the book, then we're back on track!”

“Indeed,” said Aslan, startling the heck out of Roman, who hadn't heard him approach. “At your request, Roman, we can proceed with the story as you originally intended.”

It would be so easy...just hand the reins to the big omnipotent god-lion and let him take care of everything, secure in the knowledge that the story had already been written. “No,” Roman said. “Some stories are about a wrongdoer being redeemed by a higher power, and those certainly have their time and place.” He smoothed down the front of his suit, adjusted his sash and cuffs, and reclaimed his sword from where he had dropped it on the hilltop. “This story is going to be about the wrongdoer fixing his own fuck-up.” Patton gasped at the curse word, which was gratifying in its own way. “I'm going to fight her myself. She'll want revenge on me anyway, for stealing her power. I'm going to let her think she can get it...and take her down.”

“Ooh!” Remus quavered. “Sounds violent! I'm in!”

“N-no...well...I guess you can watch, but no interfering! I'm going to challenge her to a duel, for Pete's sake!”

“If Remus is going, then the rest of us should probably stick around too,” said Virgil. “Who knows how many of us it's going to take to keep him corralled? Besides, look what happened the last time we let you wander off to the Witch's castle by yourself.”

“Sure, rub it in,” said Roman. “So who all is coming with me?”

The Sides formed a line, standing shoulder-to-shoulder before Roman. “It would appear that we all intend to go,” said Logan.

“You don't have to face any more evils alone, kiddo,” said Patton.

“But let's make it quick, because I have a salon appointment at two,” said Janus, pretending to study his fingernails through his gloves. He glanced up and winked.

“And you do not wish my involvement in any way?” asked Aslan.

“No, I want...wait. Is indirect involvement a possibility? Because I'm suddenly thinking it's going to be a long walk to her castle, and it might be nice if you could...give us a boost? Please?”

“Certainly,” said the Lion. “Do not be alarmed.” With that, he blew out a long breath over the Sides, and the Hill of the Stone Table and its environs blew away as if they were only a flimsy façade, perhaps painted on scraps of paper. After that eye-wateringly disorienting moment, they took stock of their situation.

They were surrounded on three sides by tall, lush evergreens, and underfoot was mostly crumbly pine needles. On the fourth side was a brief meadow of patchy grass and sparse wildflowers, and beyond that was a lake, or perhaps a broad pond. It did not seem to have thawed completely with the springtime; there were plenty of ice chunks bobbing in the water. These may have broken off the large and solid bank or platform of ice near the center, upon which was the White Witch's castle.

It looked different by daylight, and out of the perpetual winter. The Witch's power yet extended as far as her own dwelling and a little area around it, but without a backdrop of oppressive snow to bolster it, the castle seemed a much poorer and punier structure. Some of the trees at their backs were taller than its spires.

“Thank you for the...” Roman said, trailing off as he realized that Aslan was not there.

“You did request only indirect assistance from him,” Logan pointed out.

“Yeah...” Roman swallowed and squared his shoulders. “Showtime,” he muttered, and strode forward toward the castle.

[pokeexehasstoppedworking]

Love Doesn’t Do Encores Ch17 Return To Hammerlocke

To say you hated flying anywhere now would be an understatement. YOU ABSOLUTELY POSITIVELY DETESTED IT!! The only reason you agreed was because it was already paid for and because it was the fastest way back to Hammerlocke. Woo hoo. You weren't really in the mood for more video game-..Uh. Strangers flirting with you, but at least Ms. Opal was nice company on the way there and it was very nice of her to pay for the entire ride over to Hammerlocke. You and Gloria buckled in on one side, with your Drizzilie and her on the other. When you all left Bellonlea you were a bit more cautious of your slow pace with her as you walked along the beautiful woods to leave, and kept snapping your head about keeping an eye out for any Team Yell members or that looney guy again. It was nerve wracking to say the least. Luckily you didn't run into neither when you finally got back to the lamp posts and the entrance into the forest. The corviknight and it's owner were fast asleep in one of the shadows of the trees before being woken up by Opal tapping him with her umbrella and requesting he take all of you to Hammerlocke. And after steeling your nerves and guts, you all piled in and did just that....for the next four and a half DAYS!! Opal had just relaxed back with her eyes closed most of the trip leaving you and Gloria to quietly talk between you two(when you weren't gripping your seat and forcing yourself to not look out the windows-) or more commonly watch more videos on her phone. Opal remaining silent and you would've sworn she was asleep if she hadn't opened her eyes whenever Gloria talked to her and talked back to you both in a polite but right to the point kinda way. Never heard anyone talk quite like her. You also made a few pitstops every few towns, mostly at night to let the driver rest and you have time to eat something at the local inn without having to worry about getting air sick for a while, before it was back to the fear inducing ride. You swore when you got back you were NEVER EVER going hang gliding, or even travel by plane after this. You also learnt within that time Opal was apparently looking for a successor to take over her gym soon and the person had to have something 'pink'...Whatever she meant by that. Eventually Gloria also found a good way to distract you away from your fear for short periods of time by the third day when she asked if there was anything you really liked listening too.

You blinked kinda surprised by her but shrugged and said, "Well, I've always loved music. In fact I wanted to go into the industry when I was your age."

She seemed surprised at your answer and even Opal cracked open a eye towards you silently. "Really? Why didn't ya ever say anythin' before?"

You shrugged with a slight frown. "Eeeeehhh. It's kinda...Complicated. I wouldn't say I'm bad but I'm not good enough of a singer for me to make a career out of it, and I can't really play any instruments too well. Unless you count the kazoo."

"What about a song writer? Bet you'd be good at that."

You shrugged. "I tried, but I'm not that creative enough to figure that out. But I am pretty good at working speakers, and I know a lot about how instruments are made and how they work. So I was going to get a business liscense and try to open by own Music Store."

"Well why didn't you?"

You paused at her question for a moment. You couldn't just say "Because I got sucked into an alternate dimension where pokemon happens to be real based off a game I used to play" unless you wanted them to think you were crazy!! Thinking quickly you shrugged and told the truth. "I left home around the time I was supposed to and started traveling." Which was the truth even tho you weren't sure exactly how you left or how to get back.

"Huh. Well I guess everyone wants ta see the world and do somethin' excitin'," Gloria said with a smile and you sighed in relief. Before she held up her phone to you. "If ya like music how 'bout I show ya more of Piers's songs? It'd be a good way ta pass the time. He's written n' sung LOTS of 'em."

You blinked....Piers?? OH! That Piers. "Oh. You mean the gym leader you told me about? I think I remember you showed me one of his songs back at Postwick."

She nodded. "He's a good musician. Ya wanna see some?"

"Sure why not?"

And thus the two of you relaxed back a little more now that you could watch this Piers person singing and mostly rock music filled the taxi cab for most of the remainder ride there. Of course you two made sure Ms. Opal was fine with it and after cracking an eye open said she didn't care at all. While you two watched him you had to admit his unique voice added to whatever vibe the music was with the accent he had melting among it....But when you looked at his blue eyes and pale-ish skin..you couldn't shake the feeling of deja vu that you've seen him before. Which you brushed off because of course you had seen him before when Gloria showed you a video of him performing with a band back at Postwick. Besides, you had more important things to worry about. Like getting home and right now getting to Hammerlocke in one piece. Which also happened the very next day. Gloria had pointed it out early in the morning when she looked out the window and pointed but you couldn't get yourself to look down in fear of losing your breakfast, clutching the seat tightly and praying the landing wouldn't be the same as the last time you landed. Luckily whoever was listening to your prayers answered them because other than one rough shove from the corviknight putting the cab on the ground, the decent and landing proceedure was pretty smooth. THANK GOODNESS!! When you finally peered out the window you were greeted with one of the entrances/exits to Hammerlocke. In fact it was the same one you two had traveled Route Six out of to head to Stow-on-Side. A Gym League staff worker awaited by the entrance, most likely for their badge rule too no doubt.

The taxi driver was quick to hop down and open the door for you three as well. "We're here ladies. Hope the trip was alright for you."

"Thank you, Young man," Opal commented slowly getting up and leaving the cab with you and Gloria right behind her. Once out she breathed a sigh of fresh air before looking up at the castle like town, "Hammerlocke. Always such a dusty town. Though I suppose some pokemon prefer it that way. "

Without even looking back to you she began slowly walking off towards the entrance, and you two slowly followed with Opal in front of you two. She was easily able to walk past the man who stood at the entrance but like the last time you were here, stopped Gloria, asked if she was a Gym Challenger, and then asked to see her badges. Opal continued walking as the two of you stopped and Gloria had to dig through her backpack to show the man her badge circle of five badges attached to it. With a nod you both were let in and she stuffed it back into her bag as you two continued off after Opal. And you looking around nervously keeping an eye out for Raihan just in case. ....But it seemed as Ms. Opal disappeared as you two walked along and looked around.

"Where did she go?," you asked peeking into the window of a cafe as you walked by but she wasn't in there. "She wasn't that far ahead of us."

Gloria shrugged as she looked at the people walking by. "She said she had some errands ta run so maybe she ducked into one o' these shops."

Hm. Maybe. You both continued walking and looking around as you neared the corner where the pink pokemon center you remembered seeing. As you two got closer and closer to the corner, someone with white fluffy hair and a giant pink coat rounding the other side of the corner onto the street on which you both walked. Both of you froze upon realizing the identity of the person who was walking towards the both of you. And he too froze lavender eyes blinking widely at the both of you as well as his jaw dropped somewhat. ...Before he pointed at you two with a large scowl.

"YOU!?"

"Uh...Hey, Bede," Gloria greeted with an awkward wave.

His scowl deepened as he shouted at her. "Come to gawk at me now that I've had my challenge band taken away and my gym challenger status revoked?!" ...WHAT!? Both your eyes widened as you looked at one another. Bede growling in frustration before gripping his fluffy white locks. "I've had to spend the past days working under that despicable Raihan person as 'punishment' for what happened in Stow-on-Side!! Do you know how much that idiot makes you work doing the most ridiculous things!? And now I run into you here too! Can you really afford to waste time like this?!"

"HEY!" Gloria scowled as well pointing a hand at him. "I was the one who saved your bloody sorry self from bein' crushed by a rock after you decided to play contruction worker with the mural! If it wasn't for me you'd be flatter than a waffle under yer own mess!!"

He scoff and turned his nose away. "Well....I suppose so. You no longer have to worry about catching up with me after all." His eyes narrowed at her. "I'll have you know though that I haven't given up! I must become the champion in order to help out the chairman! I will go and ask him to let me rejoin the gym challenge!"

"Again with the Chairman, mate?," Gloria sighed letting her arms flop to her sides as she turned from a scowl to a pitied look. "Look Bede. I dunno what to tell ya. It's kinda useless to keep wantin' ta help someone who kicked ya out of the challenge. Tho considerin' what ya did I'm not surprised that's what happened. Maybe ya should just forget 'bout the guy altogether."

He gasped offended a hand to his chest. "How dare you insult my reasonings with your twisted nonsense! Any girl who'd even consider fighting for my affection wouldn't be so brazen!"

"What are ye goin' on 'bout now?!"

"Hm? That boy." You jumped as the two kids still argued with one another, whirling around to face none other than Ms. Opal herself and she was staring right at Bede with curiousity in her eyes. ..Wait. Where the heck did she come from!? "Now that's what I could call pink! So sincere and straightforward yet so twisted and misguided. I like it! That's the kind of thing that gives people some depth!" Eventually Bede looked up from Gloria and had to do a double take blinking in confusion at the new arrival. "Time for my gym mission, Child!"

"HUH!?" Bede asked leaning back in confusion and surprise at what the older woman just barked at him. "W-Wha-!?"

You yelped as suddenly with speed you didn't think she had Opal RAN past you and up to Bede who froze in place wide eyed as she looked him over. "Pink! Pink! Pink!" She shouted as she examined him. ...What did 'Pink' even mean!? She chuckled a bit examining the frozen boy's dynamax band before looking up to him with a smile. "Congratulations, Child."

"M-Ms. Opal!?," Bede sputtered out pulling his hand away from her as he looked uneasy leaning away. Wait. Bede knew who she was? "What in the world has gotten in you?!"

"You were used by Oleana. Am I right?" Bede froze once again and behind her both of you exchanged bewildered looks behind them. Opal took his silence as a yes because she hummed and nodded. "You worked hard to gather wishing stars for her only to have her throw you away like rubbish once she was done with you." Wait...How did she know that? "Come with me, Child. I might be able to help you out." She offered.

And Bede ...blinked. "I...W-What?" He shook his head before frowning. "A-Are you saying you'd be able to get me reestablished back into the challenge?"

She chuckled and nodded. "Of course, it all depends on how much hard work you're willing to put in too."

"Are you...Are you testing me?," Bede challenged before clearing his throat and shaking his head, hands tucked into his pockets as he attempted to look calm. "Very well. I accept! In fact I plan on making sure you see my full talents and tell me everything you know about the wishing stars!"

She chuckled again before smiling wider. "I think my errands to Hammerlocke have been met." Taking a moment she turned to Gloria who blinked at her. "Farewell for now, Child. You should head to Circhester. I take it you know how to get to Route Seven." And she turned away back towards Route Six and simply began walking away. Like nothing that happened just happened.

Bede made to follow but paused before turning back to Gloria who still watched silently- Before clearing his throat and turning away again. "I-I still haven't decided what to say to you officially. I'll need more time to think and at the moment I-I'm way too busy! So d-don't follow me around!"

Gloria's brow rose more clearly confused. "Uh....Alright." You both watched as he jogged on after the older woman before she blinked and turned to you with a shrug. "What was that all about?"

......You smiled. "Oh nothing. I think they'll both be fine. I have a good feeling about this." You turned and nodded towards the train station. "C'mon. It's still morning so we'll have to wait for the afternoon train. If I remember right there's a food section in the train station. We can grab a bite there."

Gloria was quick to agree with the promise of food and you two headed off towards the station. To be honest you were looking forward to food too that wasn't bland or dried tasting camping food. You had eaten enough food like that to last you a hundred lifetimes. Without having to wait for Ms. Opal anymore the two of you could walk a little faster now and were easily near the station as you continued to look around for any signs of Raihan but thankfully still found none. When you were stopped by Gloria grabbing onto your sleeve and pointing. You blinked confused at her for a moment before looking to where she was pointing and you couldn't help but stare as well. NO WAY!! Who'd think you'd run into her again while you were here? It was Sonia! Again! She must've just walked from the station because she was coming right towards the both of you, but stopped once she took notice of the familiar sight. The three of you pausing and looking at one another before the redhead smiled and waved.

"Heya!," She greeted once she was close enough, "Fancy running into you here. The badge collecting going well?"

"Sonia!," Gloria happily exclaimed in surprise before nodding proudly. "I don't mean ta brag." She crossed her arms proud of herself. "But I won me two more badges since the last time I saw ya!"

Sonia chuckled at her antics and you asked, "What are you doing back in Hammerlocke?"

She turned her attention to you one hand on her hip. "I've been doing some research on the ruins in Stow-on-Side. The sword and shield. Once Mr. Rose had his team investigate it of course. ..But I still haven't figured out some things. What kind of Pokemon were they? And where are they now?" With a sigh she shook her head. "I still have so many questions. I was thinking about taking another look at the tapestries in-"

BOOM!! Sonia was cut off as what you could only describe as a gunshot from a gun the size of an elephant going off somewhere overhead. The very action made you react immediately by ducking and grabbing the back of your head as your Drizzilie dove behind you in terror at the loud noise and shaking of the ground. Gloria gasped and fell backwards onto her behind and Sonia had jumped back nearly falling over on those heels of hers. Blinking up and totally but understandably SHOCKED at the sensation you had just witnessed. Another boom!? AGAIN!? ....Oh NO!! Was that Bede again!? Was he doing something crazy again!? Other people around you yelling or having a similar reaction to one of you three.

"AGAIN!?," you asked to no one in particular.

"Are you kidding me!?," Sonia shouted herself glaring up towards a particular tower, "What was that!?"

"Do I look like I know?," you mumbled slowly leaning yourself up as Gloria made an attempt to get off the ground.

"Hammerlocke stadium shook...That's where Chairman Rose's power plant is isn't it?" You...nodded. You think so? It's been a while since you've been back here. But there wasn't any time for talking as a buzzing sound eminated from Sonia's pocket. She was quick to scramble, almost dropping the phone in the process, as she pressed the screen in a hurry and the buzzing noise ceased. .....Her blue eyes blinked widely at the screen. "Huh?....A..power spot?"

"Power spot?" You asked confused. "You mean like where you can Dynamax?"

She nodded not looking at you. "That's right. The power spot detector reacts when it's possible to dynamax."

You rose a brow. "Well that makes sense since there's a gym stadium here. You mean Raihan can't use the stadium's spot to dynamax?"

She went to answer but didn't get a chance too. "Usually you don't."

"GAH!!" You jumped in surprise and snapped your head around to the person who scared you...And came face to face with none other than the Champion. Leon chuckled seeing your expression...before you scowled. "HEY! I thought I asked you NOT to do that the last time!"

He chuckled some more before waving a hand. "Sorry, Y/n. Hey Sonia- Oof!" He laughed more and patted the top of Gloria's head as she hugged him beaming. "And you too, Gloria! Wow. You've gotten taller! By the way you felt the shaking right?" She nodded and he hummed before looking at the same tower Sonia had been. "Seems Chairman Rose is testing something again."

"This is bad!," Sonia insisted to him, "Pokemon might start dynamaxing right in the middle of Hammerlocke!"

"Is that so?," he asked looking back to her and she nodded immediately, "I can make sure the Chairman knows."

"You'll just get lost, Leon. I'm coming too."

"Hey. I'm not THAT bad with directions, Sonia. I only ended up on top of a barn once!"

"I'm comin' too!," Gloria piped up determined hands returning to her sides. But that melted away quickly when Leon shook his head no.

"Sorry, Glory," he apologised genuinely and rested a hand on her shoulder," But it'd be too dangerous for someone your age to be wondering about a power plant of all things. Especially since there's lots of research and development happening in there that could end up going south at a moment's notice. Don't worry about a thing and just let me take care of it. Ok?"

She opened her mouth to protest. "He's right." But blinked at you as you frowned worried. "I think with everything that's already happened in the past month, it'd be better to just let the literal pokemon champion and a scientist handle whatever's going on."

She blinked between the two of you for a moment before sighing. "Oh alright."

"So you should leave the investigation on the quaking to the adults," Sonia agreed, "In the mean time why don't you head to Circhester and get that badge? I'm really looking forward to seeing you compete in the finals."

Again Gloria nodded before turning to Leon with a slightly worried expression. "Hey. You're gonna be careful right?"

He smiled brightly in a reassuring way to her. "Of course! I'm always careful!"

"Except with directions." Sonia sighed before beginning to walk away.

"HEY! I'm always careful with directions," he insisted walking after her, "Since when am I not?"

"Says the one who got stranded on top of a barn and fell into the ocean multiple times when going to Hulbury."

"Oh my Arceus. It was just one time!"

You chuckled before shaking your head..but paused noticing Gloria wasn't doing anything but staring after them. She flinched when you put a hand on her shoulder. "Hey. Are you alright there?"

After a moment of silence she sighed and nodded before turning back towards the train station. "Yeah. Jus' a lil bit worried is all. Lee can get inta trouble if he ends up lost sometimes." And she began walking. "C'mon. Let's go get somethin' to eat. Ok?''

You blinked at her sad-ish tone but didn't push any further when you started walking behind her towards the train station by the flight of stairs leading to the Hammerlocke school where you two had encountered Paula. Sending a small shiver down your spine as you passed. Eventually you both reached the inside of the train station where you two found exactly what you were looking for. Within the train station was two men and a woman behind stands who looked like they either sold tickets or pamplets, a lot of seats, the exit for entering/exiting the train, some ATM things, vending machines, and to the very left near the entrance when you two came in was the small cafe area with it's own designated seating. A man was already seated at one table looking at what you supposed was a menu, and two very recognizable teenage boys were sat at another talking....HOP AND VICTOR!? Seriously what was the odds of running into so many people today? You tapped Gloria's shoulder to get her attention but Hop beat you too it because as soon as he looked up he smiled and waved his full arm at her.

"Oh! Gloria!," He shouted at her. Like a dog to food her head snapped to him faster than lightning before the brightest smile ever lit up onto her face as Victor turned around in his seat to look at the both of you.

"HOP! Victor!," She cried out before rushing towards them with you trailing behind with your pokemon in tow. "I haven't seen ya in days!"

"Well we- Ah!" Poor Hop was nearly knocked to the floor when Gloria practically tackled him in a hug (again-) and had to wave his arms to regain balance before leaning forward luckily not falling over. "W-We just got here on the afternoon train! Glory! You're crushin' me again!"

"After noon?", you asked before looking up towards the clock on the wall surprised when you saw it read 12: 24 in the afternoon. "Huh. I didn't think we'd get here that late in the day." You then turned back to Victor. "You guys just got back here? We didn't see you at the gyms we stopped by."

Victor shrugged back at you. "We went straight to Bellonlea after Hop won against Bea," He explained, "Then we traveled a bit so Hop could practice his battling skills before we decided to head to Circhester. Hammerlocke was just a stop before we reached there so we stopped here to restock for the weather they have up there. ...And I wanted to stop by to see the Hammerlocke castle ruins on Route Eight. Legends say that they might even be the remains of the very first castle built in Galar."

"Oh. So how was Bellonlea for you two?"

Hop sighed, having freed himself from his best friend's crushing hug, slumping his shoulders. "First that forest then that mad quiz. I've been lost in every sense of the word...But it looks like I finally caught up to you again."

"Does that mean you didn't get the badge?"

He chuckled. "Took me one heck of a try but I managed somehow to get it from her." He turned back to Gloria. "Speaking of which. Come with me to Route Seven real quick.I could use a bit of competition to motivate me for the next leg of our adventure!"

Gloria blinked. "....Our adventure as in yours and Victor's next stop?"

Hop blinked at her a moment before reaching to scratch the back of his neck and looked away. "W-Well...I uh....I've been having a lot of time to think, and i-it would be nice for you to join us again this time....AH! A-And Y/n too of course!" He was quick to add holding up his hands and a slight pink hue coming over his face. "Of course I enjoy her company too! I-It's not the same without y-you both!" Smooth, Hop. Very smooth.

But it seemed like just like with Bede, Hop's flustered state flew right over her head as her eyes lit up as she quickly agreed. "Are ya kiddin' me!? OF COURSE YES!! I missed travelin' with you guys!" She pointed to the door making Victor duck to avoid getting hit in the head. "C'mon let's go see 'bout that battle!"

"Hang on a second!," Victor interjected with a frown, "What about lunch? Hop, y'know we need to stop by the clothes store and get warmer clothes!"

"..I-...Y-Yeah. But we're staying an extra one or two days so you can see those ruins anyways, so we still have time for a battle and food and shopping..and all that stuff."

......With a sigh Victor sat back down in the seat and picked up his menu again. "Fine. But make it quick. I would like us to get supplies before the end of today. The sooner we're all stocked up the sooner we can see the ruins and head off to Circhester."

Gloria was already tugging him out the door as Hop waved him off. "We'll be right back! Don't worry!"

"That's when I worry the most," he mumbled.

You chuckled before going to sit in one of the chairs across from him, Drizzilie hoping onto your lap of course before settling down and letting you wrap an arm around it's upper torso to hold it. "Well, you two certainly looked like you had an exciting time while we were gone."

"Yeah I guess you could say that. ..Hey. Let's just order something for the two of us while we wait." Your Drizzilie gave a thrum. "Uh...Three of us. The three of us order."

"Are you sure? I don't mind waiting for the other two."

"Nah. I'm hungry, and we'll still be here when they come back."

"Well...Alright then.''

You two went ahead and ordered, not really surprising it was more curries, and it wasn't too long before the three plates were set down in front of you three all different. Your drizzilie immediately went to grab at it's saled curry you had ordered for it, but Victor stopped it before pulling out his own camera.

"Wait a minute. Lemme get a shot of these first," he said holding the camera up to his face.

"You're doing that curry dex thing too?," you asked holding your Drizzilie's protesting hands as it pouted being denied it's food even for a moment.

"Nah. I've just been collecting more pictures of curries and pokemon for Glory since she needs them. Plus I like taking pictures anyways, so it's not a big deal."

"Aw. That's really nice of you."

He was quick to take a few pictures of the curries and you released your pokemon's hands. Drizzilie was quick to grab it's own food and begin scarfing it down much to your amusement as you two yourselves dug in. You were happy that it wasn't another bland tasting granola bar thing or dried fruit snack made for traveling. And it wasn't too long when you were into your food that the two had returned and taken seats next to the two of you as well.

"Hey you two," you greeted, "Welcome back. How was the battle?"

Hop was absolutely beaming and Gloria sighed but not in a sad way before saying, "I lost. Hop really has gotten stronger!"

"Hey, congrats!," you smiled at Hop, "I told you you could do it!"

"Hehe. Thanks," he smiled bashfully before pointing towards the food, "Looks like we're just in time to order ourselves huh? Great! We can catch up with everything that happened then!"

Gloria chuckled. "Well then better get a big curry n' some popcorn! Cuz I gotta lot to tell the both 'o ye!"

"Oh boy. Here we go."

You should've expected the shocked faces that they all gave when Gloria between eating her curry(after taking pictures of them of course-) told them everything. And I do mean EVERYTHING. From helping the lad find an applin for his crush, to the strange MAYBE ghost girl that had you all deliver a letter to Mr. Frank, to the weird guy in Bellonlea who thought he was a pokemon, to how you both met Allister, to her gym battles, and of course everything the two of you went through in Stow-on-Side after they left. The two boys looked more shocked than they would've been if you had suddenly disappeared before their very eyes back the way you came and magically ended up back home. You just simply ate letting Gloria ramble on and on and tried to keep your drizzilie was getting food everywhere. You swore it was like trying to feed a toddler in your lap. Eventually sometime between all of this Hop finally spoke with a scowl pointing at everyone.

"I KNEW it! I knew that bloke was up to no good! And look at what happened!"

"Hop, calm down," you insisted holding up a hand, "To be honest I think he only did it because he was pressured by someone and did what he thought was going to help. I don't know why he thought there would be wishing stars under the mural, but he was right about there being something under there. ...And I really don't want to just talk badly of him since he already paid for what he did." You did feel bad for him but in the back of your mind you knew he'd be fine and get back on the right path now. "...But I think Victor said something about stopping by a clothes store. What for?"

"You'll need some too, Y/n," Victor said, "If you don't wanna freeze your leg off that is. Circhester and it's gyms are located in the mountains where it's always cold and snowy. If we're heading there we'll all need to stock up on food for the long trip too since they're the farthest gyms from here."

"Oh. Well I say we finish up here so we can get started then. I don't know how when the stores around here close."

The rest of the stay in Hammerlocke wasn't very eventful thankfully. After the lot of you had finished eating and paid, you left and you followed them all to the clothing store that Hammerlocke had. You weren't expecting them to actually be selling winter clothes but low and behold they were selling them amongst the regular summer shirts and shorts. All of your pants and shirts was pretty long and warm anyways so you only felt the need to find a plain coat and gloves as the others took their time browsing around and tried on various other winter type clothing. But you did find one thing you liked. A small child's sweater that doubled as a hoodie with the hood attached to it. You looked between it and the Drizzilie before taking it and after wrangling your pokemon lightly, slipped it over his head and popped his arms gently through the sleeves. Drizzilie gave a couple chirps in protest and confusion as he was slipped into the sweater-hoodie...before blinking and pulling out the hem of it to look over it. ..And looked at you with a strange look.

"Hey. If you're not going to stay in your pokeball then you're going to need something to keep you warm too."

You were pretty sure a water pokemon without any feathers or fur to cover him wouldn't fair too well in the cold weather. By the time you all paid for the small pile of winter clothes for the five of you and left the store, the sun was close to setting and with your low food supplies without there being any supply stores in Hammerlocke Victor was clever enough to come up with a better idea. Leading the confused group back to the train station, he walked on over to the vending machines in the corner of the room and considering everything in them was already made to last a long time they'd do until you all found another store with better surprises. Sounded good to you...Or it would've been if Gloria hadn't had the bright idea to use her Rotom pokemon. You couldn't believe it but the rotom pokemon actually transferred itself from the phone into one of the machines and one after another cans of soda, chips, instant noodle things, candy bars, and other snack like foods tumbled down one after the other with the lot of you eagerly grabbing at it. When you pointed out wasn't this technically stealing, Gloria assured you the rotom would be using money coming from her Gym Challenger account to pay for this all. Oh...Well you kinda guessed she'd have one of those to be paid after battles and all. By the end of one vending machine being cleaned out Victor mentioned once it was divided between the four of you it SHOULD be enough to at least last you all the trip up to Circhester. That was good to hear. By the time the four of you were finished with your shopping spree, sun set had finally taken a hold of the town and Hop suggested now would probably be a good time to set up came outside Hammerlocke and rest up to take a visit to the ruins Victor wanted to visit the next day. As much as you'd like to go to Circhester right away it was unanimous that the next day you'd be spending your entire day at the ruins.

That night you slept pretty well and by the time you woke up the next day Victor had already cooked everyone breakfast early. By the smile on his face, you'd say he was pretty excited to spend the day at the ruins. After eating breakfast and packing everything up, the four of you made your way down Route Eight. The castle ruins weren't too far down the road from Hammerlocke, just maybe an hour or two's walk. There was some blocked off areas by rope blocking access to some of the more brittle or dangerous areas of the place. And you did enjoy yourself while you looked around too. There was a couple pokemon you hadn't seen while you were traveling before and both twins seemed to get a kick out of taking pictures of either the ruins or the pokemon hiding within them, as you all walked around along with a few other people who seemed to be looking at them as well. The only ones who really seemed bored just standing around and looking at the ruins was your Drizzilie still wearing the sweater hoodie thing you had gotten him yesterday as he grumbled and walked along after you. The ruins were pretty big and decently had a lot to look at so it was no wonder the four of you spent nearly all morning and half the afternoon there looking at it all before Hop suggested heading back towards Hammerlocke in hopes of catching the night train out of town. Sounded good to everyone..Huh. You wondered if Sonia had studied the ruins here for more clues too? It wasn't too late when the group got back to Hammerlocke, maybe three or four o' clock in the afternoon at the lastest, but definately late enough to have missed the evening train out. Of course Hop and Gloria having to show their badges to the man standing guard at the entrance in order to be let in but it wasn't too much of a hassle for you five to head on in and back to the train station. In the entire time you were back here in Hammerlocke you hadn't seen Raihan again even once. You guessed he must've been traveling again or just not here at the moment. Fine by you. You all had a few hours to kill until the night train showed up sometime around eight o' clock. In the next few hours you all busied yourselves by having dinner courtesy of the guys and Victor giving a very happy glory all the pictures he had taken over the days they were seperated. A LOT of curry (when did they eat so much of that stuff-) and pokemon she was delighted to have and then secure into her books along with the newest pictures she took with help from Hop sorting them out and helping to place them within the labeled pages. Which took up most of the rest of the time it took you four to wait for the night train because it took you all by surprise when the sounds of rumbling tracks and a train horn made you all look up as a shiny subway like train pulled up into the station.

"Ah magikarp!," Gloria shouted before dropping her fork and then scrambling to pick up her thing played on the table. "Hop! Help me stuff these things back inta me bag!!"

Hop blinked but immediately did as his friend asked as he too scrambled to grab any leftover pictures and the two books to throw them back in her bag as Victor quickly dug into his pockets for something. Luckily you didn't have the need to pick anything up or collect anything other than the drizzilie sitting in your lap that you scooped up into your arms when the others scrambled to get up, and Victor tossed what looked like a two dollar tip on the table for whoever had to come collect the dishes. The horn blasting again for any passengers who wished to leave Hammerlocke, which you four sure did heading towards it. Looks like you all would be heading to Circhester and hopefully Gloria's next badge on the way.

[yolkyeomie]

Trade Off of Gifts | Bang Chan

summary — no one knows the world of an artists as well as you do, at least that’s what you thought until he decided to show up one day

word count — 1.7k words

pairing — chan x gender neutral!reader

genre — fluff, artist!reader with a tiny hint of musician!chan (even tho he’s already a musician???)

disclaimer — just something tiny for all your fast and short topher needs !!

Being someone who is artistically gifted has its perks, leaving you to be more creatively thoughtful than most of the people around you.

The world and its people was one big incomplete painting to you, splashes of colors being splattered into its surface as you began to maneuver through it. You were the artist who determined what colors were allowed to stay and what colors no longer fit the narrative you were trying to create. It was a tiresome and even lonely job when you had to pick up a brush and bring a new color into your final masterpiece, but it was a rather exciting process nonetheless.

Different colors meant different things and different shades indicated different tones. Sometimes they’d change meanings and sometimes they’d stay the same, it always depended on how you felt that day. You could never explain exactly what everything meant to you, thinking of it as some innate feelings you were born with.

You never bothered trying to help outsiders comprehend what you meant either, as it was easier to keep it to yourself instead of giving your thoughts and feelings for the world to see.

But then somehow, you were stumbled upon by someone who shared the same views as you. Someone who saw the world in a rather similar artistic and dreamy light as you did, and they weren’t even an artist who puts pen to paper.

“That’s a nice drawing,” the stranger told you, hovering over your shoulder like a hawk to its prey. You scrambled to your feet almost immediately, pressing your art to your chest in a defensive manner. You didn’t like it when people hovered over you while you were drawing, entranced in this magical world of fantasy and possibility when you doodled on whatever surface you.

Usually, people would interrupt you when you weren’t finished, commenting on how odd everything seemed and how empty your art looked.

But then it clicked in your head, the stranger didn’t make any sort of ignorant comment on it. He simply said it was nice.

“Thank you,” you managed to say, your eyes darting down to the sketch you had created.

It wasn’t anything special, a half-done headshot of one of your friends from memory. It didn’t really look like any of your friends at the time either, there wasn’t enough detail on the features for it to be recognizable of who it was. “I mean, it’s not really done or anything so it’s not the best I’ve ever created but—“

“Really?” He questioned, his eyes widening to show off the little twinkling stars in his eyes and his mouth gaping open at your response. You couldn’t help but chuckle at his expression, nodding your head as an answer. “You’re a really good artist, you know that? Not many of my friends can even pick up a pencil if we really wanted to, but I guess that’s not really a compliment. Is portraits the only thing you draw?”

You lifted an eyebrow as he spoke, cautiously eying him and the choice of his words. He definitely wasn’t new to the whole artist thing, there was no way he was that knowledgeable on what artists liked to hear and what they didn’t like to hear and wasn’t an artist himself.

He even called you an artist instead of a “drawer”! If that wasn’t a dead giveaway of the fact that you were in the presence of an artistically gifted person then you don’t know what was.

“Not always,” you answered him, shrugging your shoulders as you tried to come up with a decent answer. “It really depends on my mood, but I like drawing portraits of people more than anything. It gives me an excuse to look at others without seeming… creepy? You know?”

“Oh…,” he nodded, a smile donning his face as he looked up at you. “So you’re a people watcher?”

“Not exactly,” you corrected him, “I just enjoy looking at people’s faces. You know, to catch every little detail that makes them unique to themselves. Everyone’s got something about them that’s different from everyone else and drawing lets me capture their uniqueness in a form that can be treasured forever.”

“That just sounds like an over-exaggeration of people watching,” the boy insisted, a laugh escaping his lips when he caught your frustrated glare digging daggers into his skull. “I’m kidding I promise! I completely understand what you mean. So who were you drawing just now then?”

Your expression immediately falls into a grimace, hesitantly peering towards your unfinished work to your friend. “Ah… this?” You ask him, trying to stall time from explaining your latest creation to him.

Through when you looked up to the boy he only nodded at your question and gave you the brightest smile he could. “It’s… it’s a drawing of a friend. He didn’t ask me to make this or anything, but I was just using him to practice faces.”

“You’re only practicing?” the boy gasped, scooting closer to you to steal another peek of your sketch from before. “That’s crazy, I would have thought you were working on an actual project and trying to get to the final piece!”

“You flatter me too much,” you joked, giving your sketch a half-smile. You appreciated the compliments he was showering you with, but there was no way you were actually living up to those expectations in your head. Being artistically gifted had its perks yet also had its more major downfalls: creating unattainable standards for yourself that you constantly set yourself up for failure was one of them. “I still have a long way to go before I can get anywhere near where I want to be.”

“I think where you are now is a great place, you should help yourself to the compliments when you get them. You deserve them,” he commented, a wide grin stretching across his face. Watching his lips turn into a smile made you so do the same, the atmosphere around him too addicting to go to waste. “Plus, I can tell you like it when people praise you.”

“Shut up, you ruined the moment,” you hissed, jumping to your feet to shove him out of your range of sight. The boy giggled at your reaction as he forced himself to stay put, not moving a singular inch no matter how hard you pushed him. “Leave! I don’t want you around me anymore, you ruined the moment!”

The boy thought about your words for a moment, as if he was trying to determine whether or not he wanted to leave you alone. “How about this,” he offered, spinning on his heel to face you. It caught you off guard for a moment, stumbling back on your feet as he shined that same smile from earlier on to you. “I’ll leave you alone now, but you have to let me come back and talk to you about your art more.”

You snorted, “I don’t even know you, why would I do that?”

He nodded in understanding, considering your comment before holding his hand out for you to shake. “Okay then, hi! I’m Bang Chan and I want you to let me come back another day and talk to you about your art. Does this make up for the lack of acquaintanceship?”

“Hi, I’m Y/N,” you humor him, shaking his hand before sliding out a slightly impolite question from your lips, “Is Bang Chan asking to hang around me because he wants me to give him a free drawing? If so I’m sorry but I’m not confident enough in my skills to even make you anything if I wanted to. There’s a reason I’m practicing here you know.”

“That’s not what I meant,” he clarified, slumping back onto the ground and laying back with a content smile. “I don’t want free art, I just want to hear you talk about your art. Maybe people watch with you from time to time.”

“I’m not a people watcher.”

“Sorry,” Chan nodded, “maybe not-people-watch with you then.”

You went silent for a moment, looking down at the sketch in your hands and glancing back towards the boy. “So that’s all? You just want to… hang out with me while I draw? No strings attached? You’re not going to ask me to draw you for free in the future or make fun of my unfinished work at all?”

He nodded in response and pointed a finger at your head. “The mind of an artist is a very interesting place to explore because not every artist has the same thought process when it comes to their creations. I want to see how we differ from each other.”

“So you’re an artist as well?” You question, your eyes widening as you slowly began to realize what he had said.

“Wouldn’t exactly say an artist,” Chan laughed, downplaying his statement as much as possible. “More of a… musician? I guess? I make songs, but that’s nothing compared to being someone who puts a pencil to paper.”

So your hunch was correct, Chan was artistically gifted! Of course, it wasn’t exactly in the way you had thought before but the mere fact that he was like you made much more sense now. “A musician is still an artist,” you tell him, “just because you’re not creating art in that sense doesn’t mean you aren’t an artist. Art comes in many different forms you know, you can’t limit it to one medium.”

“Well my form of art isn’t very… how do I say this, it isn’t—“

“—You’re embarrassed.” You finished. As expected the boy came up with as many excuses as possible, trying to drill the false act into your head but utterly failing. All you could do was laugh as you spoke, “don’t worry! It’s normal to be closed off about the things you create, I’m embarrassed to show off my art to people all of the time.”

Chan nodded, nervously fidgeting with his hair as he tried to play off his flustered actions. “I guess that’s one thing we have in common right?”

“Make that two things,” you corrected him. He turned to you with a confused glint in his eyes as you held up two fingers and grinned at him as you explained, “we’re both artists and we’re embarrassed to show people our creations. Oh the woes of being artistically gifted, am I right?”

He nodded in agreement, a cheeky smile appearing on his face once again as he repeated, “oh the woes of being artistically gifted.”

[aclosetfan]

Lunch Break Blues

The wind whipped Blossom's hair as she tried wrestling it into a top knot. It had been raining on and off all day, and no doubt it would start up again soon, but while the rain had momentarily ceased, she and her sisters took advantage of the rare sunlight pouring through the broken clouds. It was the first lunch in a long week that they took perched atop one of the skyscrapers far from any prying eyes. Usually, a weather report full of rain made Townsville dull and would drive Buttercup crazy, but this week's unprecedented downpour had done little to stop Townsville's villains. Blossom suspected it was because they were feeling a little stir crazy too.

She didn't know what was worse, staying home and doing nothing or flying around soaked to the bone each day. Her hair was a frizzy mess, and she was pretty sure a nasty cold was on the horizon. The rain was such a nuisance that Bubbles had begun to forgo her tennis shoes or steel-toed boots for her daisy-print rain boots. Buttercup had busted out her rain repellant windbreaker. And Blossom had personally opted for her ugly yellow polka-dotted raincoat and matching hat, which yes, she knew looked ridiculous, but she dressed practicably not for fashion. She didn't care who laughed (her sisters and a choice selection of villains); at least she was staying reasonably dry!

The skyscraper they were at was far too windy for her hat to stay on, so she had shoved it in her pocket and went to task on taming her hair. An awful frizzy mess. She pouted and sighed, dropping her hands from her mangled top knot. Generally, the wind did very little to bug her, having the capability to fly and all, but it kept spraying rain droplets and puddles into her face and her hand itched towards her rain cap once more.

A dejected sigh from her left pulled her attention away from her own problems. Glancing over at Bubbles, whose pigtails had gone limp, stabbed absentmindedly at her salad. Her sister took a sad, miserable bite and chewed slowly as she watched the next round of clouds blow in with watery eyes. Bubbles had seemed to be feeling blue (har har) for the last few days, and it wasn't because of the rain. What for though, Blossom didn't know. Bubbles hadn't decided to pour her heart out just yet. However, that didn't deter her from trying to pry the problem out of her sister. Blossom was a problem-solver after all—it was one of her core defining traits.

"Bubs?" She asked with a tilt of her head, "You okay?"

"Oh, Bloss," Bubbles sighed, putting her salad down in favor of ringing out the water from her pigtails, "I'm just feeling a lil crummy. Don't worry."

Blossom snorted, "It'd be easier changing the tide."

That tugged a small smile out of Bubbles.

"Is it the rain?" She asked, already knowing it was the wrong answer.

Bubbles sighed, "No, it's not the rain—it's just, well, it's kind of silly actually."

"I could go for a good joke about now that isn't about my raincoat," Blossom shrugged.

"It's an affront to fashionable society, Blossom," Bubbles sniffed, "You look like a drowned clown!"

"On the outside!" She huffed, "But I'm perfectly dry, thank you, unlike some people."

"I look cute, rain or shine. Jealousy isn't a good color on you." Bubbles blew a raspberry at her before going back to stabbing her salad.

Blossom rolled her eyes and muffled an annoyed groan, "So you're not going to tell us what's up?"

"You'll just tell me it's silly."

The response stung a little, but Blossom shook it off, "Come on, I promise I won't—" she held out her pinky, "—I swear!"

Bubbles regarded her hand for a moment with a thoughtful look before linking their pinkies together. Simultaneously, they lifted their hands and sealed the deal with quick kisses to their fists.

"So," Blossom tried again, "what's up?"

Bubbles sigh was loud and dramatic as she brought one leg up to wrap her arms around, resting a cheek on her knee.

"It's my art," her sister complained, "I wanna make something big, you know, like real profound, but all I ever draw is cute stuff!"

Blossom felt her eyebrows furrow, "But you love cute stuff?"

"Van Gogh didn't get famous for drawing fluffy bunnies, Blossom!" Bubbles whined, "Real artists have really thoughtful ideas! They mean things, and anytime I try to do the same thing, it comes out stupid!"

"Van Gogh drank paint and killed himself. So I don't think he's someone you should be comparing yourself to."

"But he was a genius!"

"He was sick." Blossom counterpointed, "And couldn't find the help he needed. I prefer you sane and alive. Everyone does. The world doesn't need another tortured artist."

Bubbles pouted, "Yeah, but they don't need another goofy doodlist either. I want to make stuff that means something to people."

"They do mean something." She smiled, nudging Bubbles' shoulder with her own, "Your drawings always make me smile. They're happy and fun, and even if they're sometimes silly, that doesn't make them any less valuable to me. That counts for something, right?"

Bubbles smile brightened, and she giggled, "That's really sweet, Bloss, thanks. I think I needed to hear that, but—" there was another dejected sigh, "—I dunno, I just feel so uninspired and bored, and I really want to make a statement. I know there's something great inside me—"

"Because there is."

That earned her another smile, "—yeah, but I can't get it out! It's like all my hand can do is silly cartoons!"

Blossom nodded, "Well, I'm no artist myself, but I'm guessing there's nothing better than practice."

Bubbles flopped back onto the wet concrete, and Blossom cringed in sympathy as she imagined the water soaking its way through Bubbles' shirt.

"Bubs don't lay on—"

"I need to be more introspective!" Bubbles interrupted, "More in tune with myself and nature and the world! I need more life experiences, ya know, so I have stuff I can really pull from when I draw."

Outside of Bubbles probably being the most "self in-tuned" person Blossom knew, it was "life experiences" that threw her the most.

"Bubbles, life experiences? You're a superhero. You face the most depraved of society every day; you met people at their lowest moments. You've faced adversity larger than most will ever dare encounter!"

"But none of that has affected me! I need to get sad! I need to get in touch with my blue period!" Bubbles waved her hands around in exasperation, "I need to be relatable!"

"You've faced the worst and have come out better because of it," She scowled, "and you don't want that? Do you want to be emotionally scarred? To be relatable?"

Bubbles groaned and covered her face with her hands. "I knew you wouldn't get it!" Then came a muffled whine, "This is why I didn't wanna tell you!"

Blossom tsked, "I certainly don't see how being a beacon of hope as opposed to a cesspool of depression and self-pity is worse."

"It's not like that!" Bubbles shot up, "I don't want to be dark and depressed, but that's like what all the great art is!"

"Great art is the art that makes you feel, Bubbles; it doesn't matter what emotion that is, you know that. And if your art makes people feel happy, then what's the big issue?"

Bubbles deflated, "I dunno. I just want to make something that'll make people remember. Centuries from now, I want it to inspire people! Go, oh, I want that! Whatever that is." Bubbles looked up back at the clouds, "And that means I've really got to come up with something good. Something meaningful, but I've got zero ideas."

Blossom considered what she was saying for a moment before nodding, "Okay, I think I understand what you're saying. It's like you're in an art block."

"Yeah," Bubbles nodded, "I'm on creative hold. Everything I make, I don't like."

"Well, this weekend, why don't we go to the art museum, look at the stuff you want to emulate, and try to get into the head of the artist, you know?"

Bubbles perked up, "That's a good idea! You'd really wanna come with me?"

"Of course. We'll drag Buttercup along too. You know she needs some sophisticating." Blossom murmured, shooting their other sister a sideways look.

With the hood of her windbreaker still partially up and wet dripping hair curling in every direction, Buttercup sat perched on the ledge of the building a few feet away, hunched over her sandwich. She chewed mechanically in what looked like deep pensive thought. Her eyebrows were furrowed as she seemed to study the cars far below. She had been mostly quiet this afternoon, happy to be outside but pissy about the rain, and had spent much of their lunch hour shooing away a group of hungry pigeons that seemed to follow her everywhere she went. The pigeons, however, seemed to be appeased at the moment with the few chunks of bread and potato chips Buttercup had relinquished to them.

Blossom expected Buttercup to snap at her for the comment, but it seemed she was so lost in her own little world, watching the cars whiz by, that she hadn't heard them talking.

Bubbles giggled, "Actually, Bloss, I was thinking I needed to be a bit more like Buttercup."

She gave Bubbles a look, jabbing a thumb towards their sister, "Buttercup?"

"Mm-hmm," Bubbles nodded.

"Our sister?" Blossom asked again for clarification, "Buttercup?"

"Ah, come on! Look at her!" Bubbles grabbed her by the cheeks and swiveled her head back towards Buttercup, "She's got the look down."

"What look?" Blossom asked, but because her cheeks were being squished, it came out like, "Wa'ok?" Bubbles understood her regardless.

"That dark, introspective look." Bubbles explained, "Ya know, mused hair, dark under-eyes, stained fingers. The look of a moody artist!"

Generally, Buttercup's hair was mused because she refused to brush it since it was "short for a reason, Blossom." Today, it was also because of the rain. Furthermore, Buttercup had dark under-eyes partly because she insisted on wearing dark eyeliner that smudged halfway down her face every day without fail, and also because she had stayed up until 3 a.m. last night playing video games. And finally, Buttercup's fingers were stained not because of any artistic endeavor but because she had stuck her whole hand into a vat of black and mysterious sludge this morning. She had done so because Blossom had explicitly told her not to stick her hand in the vat of black and mysterious sludge they had been investigating, which had been a mistake on Blossom's part. She knew her sister couldn't resist doing something after it had been brought to her attention, so why she had decided to tell Buttercup not to mess with the vat of sludge was beyond her.

And while Buttercup was often quote-unquote moody, it wasn't because she was broody or introspective. It was because she was either hungry or bored or sometimes both. Bubbles was actually the moody and overly sensitive one, but Blossom knew better than to say that out loud.

"She looks like she needs a bath." Blossom huffed, pulling her face from Bubbles grasp.

"Don't focus on that." Bubbles waved her off, "Look how deep in thought she is! Buttercup isn't much for talking, is she? I bet she's got a lot going on in that head of hers."

"Buttercup?" She asked, her eyebrows furrowing in confusion once again.

Bubbles rolled her eyes and gave her shoulder a playful wack, "Don't be mean! I'm serious. She's been sitting like that for half an hour now, looking, thinking—"Bubbles tapped her chin in thought, "—I wonder what she's thinking about. From the looks of it, it must be important."

Blossom looked back over at Buttercup, tracing her eyes over her sister's face once more to look for something she may have missed. Her look was pensive. And it was admittedly artsy even if it was on accident. She supposed that even if Buttercup tended to evade artistic endeavors in favor of more physical hobbies, she could still be a poet at heart.

Buttercup was done with her sandwich now and handed off the crumbs to the birds. She still seemed lost in thought. However, she had moved her attention away from the hustle and bustle of the city to the clouds above. She didn't smile, but when a beam of light broke through the clouds and landed on her face, the stress lines on her forehead disappeared, and contentment passed over her features. Blossom couldn't help smiling at the sight of it. It was nice to see her like that. Maybe she was thinking about something profound and meaningful. Bubbles was right. Buttercup wasn't one to share her every single thought unless she was pissed, annoyed, or pressed for an answer. When Buttercup was in a good mood, she simply vibed, enjoying the quality time.

Blossom hardly thought she was mysterious, though. Buttercup's body language was more than enough to determine her mood. If she liked a song, she'd bob her head to its beat. If she liked a certain food, she'd inhale it without breathing. But now that Bubbles had said it, what was Buttercup actually thinking about?

Suddenly, Blossom felt guilty for never asking.

"Hey, Butters?" She called out to their sister, snapping a few times to get her attention.

Buttercup blinked back into reality and turned to face them, "Mhm?"

"What are you thinking about?" She asked.

"What am I thinking about?" Buttercup tilted her head, giving them both a look, "Why?"

"Don't worry about it." Bubbles spoke up, "Just tell us, right now, what you're thinking about."

Buttercup shrugged, looked away, smacked her lips a few times, and looked back, "Lizards."

"Lizards?" Blossom heard herself echoing as every kind, and warm thought she had regarding Buttercup came to a crashing halt.

Buttercup shrugged again, picking at her teeth, before looking back up at the clouds, "They're cool as shit, dude."

Blossom blinked once and then twice before turning back to Bubbles, who looked a little bit dumbstruck. 

"Well, you're right when you're right, Bubbles. She's a real Van Gogh in the making," She snorted dryly.

"Ah, shut it," Bubbles huffed, crossing her arms.

"Wait," Buttercup spoke up over the wind, "why you dumbasses talking about vans?"

"Face it, Bubs," Blossom smiled, ignoring Buttercup, "you don't give yourself enough credit. If there's someone here proficient in artistic musings, it's not the pigeon whisperer. It's most definitely you."

Bubbles uncrossed her arms and sent her a warm smile, leaning her damp head on her shoulder, "Maybe you're right, Bloss, but could we still go to the art museum?"

"Yeah, duh." Blossom smiled, leaning her head on Bubbles, "You know I love museums."

"Hey!" Buttercup shouted, hands on her hips, "Seriously, which van are two laughing about, and where is it going!"

[dirtydoesgood]

Like the Bonfire of Awe, Which His Thirst Burns In

Author: @assomoir​​ Fandom: Ikemen Vampire Character(s): Theodorus van Gogh / Female MC Rating: E - Explicit Warnings: Smut, Mirror Sex

Prompt: Jealousy Summary: Sometimes all she needed was a reminder about how helplessly in love he was. Theo knew this better than anyone, and got a little creative in the process.

“I think you should visit tomorrow, too.”

Theo inwardly sighed at the saccharine-sweet voice. Madelaine Godefroi slowly entered his line of sight, and he politely looked up from the files he had been putting inside his suitcase.

They were only supposed to drop a painting off at this mansion and leave. What the hell happened?

“We do have another appointment with your father, but not until the 15th. Besides, he won’t even return to Paris until next week.”

“… Well, yes,” she seemed surprised that he knew about it, before quickly composing herself again, “but you don’t need to see him. I’ll be here to hear more about this new art movement you’re campaigning for, and maybe purchase a painting or two in the process.”

Theo resisted the urge to roll his eyes. He wasn't stupid – he'd seen how the young noblewoman was actually interested in him and definitely not the painting they brought for her father. But the fact that Marquis Godefroi was one of their loyal clients and main investors in Vincent’s biggest exhibition yet really got him choosing his words carefully. Everyone knew how spoiled the girl was, and who could say what would happen if he just straight-up said no?

From across the table, he saw his dear little apprentice quietly observing the exchange. They exchanged a glance, and she nodded in wordless understanding before opening her notebook, making a show of checking their schedule.

“Mademoiselle,” she started, “unfortunately, our schedule is fully booked tomorrow. If you don’t mind, we can visit you next Monday?”

“Goodness, dear!" Madelaine's amused laughter rang loudly in the spacious living room, surprising them both. "I almost forgot you were here too! Sure, sure!”

Oh, shit.

There was no way he could have missed the amalgamation of shock and annoyance that flitted across her face for a split second before breaking into her usual smile.

(In hindsight, he really should have seen it coming.)

Later that night, Theo returned from the thermae to find her brushing her hair in front of the vanity. There was an undercurrent of stiffness in the set of her shoulders when he approached, and he stopped short of embracing her when he saw how deep in thought she seemed to be. It wasn't until she put the brush down and their eyes met through the vanity mirror that he got up and kissed the top of her head, letting her sweet – almost sinfully so – scent fill his senses. Hunger had manifested itself in him for some time now, but resolving her bad mood took precedence over everything else.

“What’s wrong?"

The way she leaned back onto his chest was almost unconscious, just like how his arms immediately wrapped themselves around her. He could practically feel the exhaustion seeping away from his bones the longer they lingered in that position.

"I know you’re upset,” he repeated in a murmur, “but please talk to me.”

She hummed a thoughtful sound. It was not an answer, but he knew from experience that at the very least, it meant she would eventually be willing to talk.

Just not immediately.

So they stayed like that for a while, the distant, restless twinkle of Mozart’s piano playing in the background. He knew the shapes of everything even in the darkness of her bedroom – the way her hair framed her face and cascading down to her hips, the caramel sheen of her nightgown, or the slightly downward curve of her lips, bitten far too often but still soft and plush and so pretty. Theo looked down to where his lover was swaying slightly in his arms, counting his own heartbeats, and closed his eyes to where it was darker still.

“The Godefroi heiress really likes you."

This proved his guess right: she was indeed jealous. Yet his guts told him she wasn’t telling the full story, and something about the whole atmosphere felt really off. Like the calm before the storm, unnerving him in a way he couldn't explain.

“And?”

“… That's it? That's all you've got to say?” she sighed. "Never mind then."

“No, I meant it. You're not telling me everything.” She had been jealous before, but not like this. Never like this.

Another bout of silence followed.

Then in a small voice, she whispered: “My birthday is coming soon, remember?”

He opened his eyes and straightened himself, now more than a little lost. Why did she speak like that was a bad thing? And what did her birthday have to do with this? “Of course. What about it?”

“Theo,” she took an exasperated breath and turned, but nothing could have prepared him for the way she looked into his eyes – like she was desperately, hopelessly, searching for something, and with every passing second she failed to find it her eyes slowly clouded over with resignation. “You do realize I’m getting older every day, right?”

What.

He definitely did not like where this was going.

“Liefje. What are you talking about?”

“Just—” she faltered at the nickname but still chose to turn her back on him, like she was trying to remove herself from the conversation. “I’m obviously a year older than when I first came here, and— and I really can’t tell how much I’ve changed? Birthdays are like reminders that I will keep getting older and there’s nothing I can do to stop it,” she said, carefully curbing the bitterness in the back of her tongue even in anger. “Obviously little Miss Madeleine and her cute flirting aren’t helping my case.”

In the heavy silence following her outburst, his mind raced back through the last couple of months. This Godefroi incident might be the last straw, but this was not the first time they had clients flirting with either of them. Something must have changed – something so subtle that even he’d missed it, yet big enough to leave them in this entangled and unsettling mess of emotions in its wake.

She hastily rummaged through the shelf and brushed her hair once again in what seemed like an attempt to calm herself down, all while refusing to spare him a glance. It took a few more seconds before his head cleared up enough for him to take action, and when it finally did, he took her reluctant hand, leading her to sit next to him on the bed.

“How long have you been feeling this way?”

A sigh. “I don’t know.”

He grabbed the hands that were fidgeting restlessly on her lap and studied the lines of her palm, like they could yield the answers to all her troubles.

"I'm so sorry. I should have noticed it sooner."

She wasn’t crying, but he just realized that the bags under her eyes looked a bit more striking than usual. He caressed them pensively, wondering how on earth did he miss this.

"It wasn't your fault."

"Still—"

"No, really. It's… not anyone's fault," she huffed. "At least I know you're not flirting back."

The idea was so absurd in his head that he couldn't help rolling his eyes. "You would never have to worry about that."

"Shut up."

"I'm serious."

"Riiight." She shot him a playful smile, yet the slight disbelief in that single syllable bothered him to no end.

"You don't believe me, hondje?"

"Hmm… and if I don’t?" She laughed then, but Theo felt his chest ache at that answer. "No, no, I’m just kidding. Of course I trust you. It's just that— hmm…" She looked up, hesitant, like she was whispering it into the aether. "I just needed to hear it. We've been so busy lately, you know?"

—and then it hit him.

So busy was an understatement. They practically hadn’t had a proper conversation in almost two months; and it all started when the final preparations for Vincent’s latest exhibition were set in motion.

Theo had been so busy organizing the whole thing that they didn’t get the chance to talk as much as they usually did. The typical leisurely conversation on rides to and from the city became mostly business, with him scribbling things away in his notebooks, managing his schedule with investors and her double-checking their to-do list while occasionally fretting that he might get sick from all the intense reading inside the moving carriage. Their weekly dates were exchanged for venue hunting, meetings, or even modelling for his brother’s paintings. Most nights, he stayed up so late that she couldn’t keep up no matter how much she wanted to – more than once, he caught her falling asleep on his desk, in the middle of sorting letters or cataloguing Vincent’s paintings.

He had been so sure that the drastic change of pace would not affect them much, and instead thought that it was somewhat adorable to see her just as invested as he was in this whole affair. Had foolishly assumed that just because she never complained, everything was – and would be – just fine.

Had somehow forgotten that sometimes, all she needed from him was simply spoken reassurances, and nothing more.

(And now he’d gladly give them to her, no holds barred.)

“I see. Wait here.”

There was a huge standing mirror in the corner of her room, an oval-shaped thing with golden frame courtesy of the Comte. Theo had never thought much about it, until tonight’s event gave him a completely different idea in mind.

As someone who believed that action spoke louder than words, how else would he drive the point home?

She eyed him warily as he turned the nightlight on and dragged the mirror to the bedside. The apprehension lasted even after Theo sat down on the bed himself, facing the mirror, and gestured for her to sit in front of him. “What? What do you mean? What is it for?”

“Just come here. I know you like surprises.”

“…  I don’t know about this one,” she retorted drily.

Yet she complied anyway, sitting with her knees folded up, allowing him to see the smooth expanse of her thigh through the reflection. With her back against his chest he could feel the warmth of her skin against his own despite too many layers still separating them. He brushed her hair back with his fingers and kissed the first inch of exposed skin on her neck, his breath vividly hot in the cold night air.

A quick glance into the mirror told him she had her eyes closed, and that wouldn’t do. He tugged on her hair, instantly opening her eyes and eliciting a surprised gasp that went straight to his groin.

“Keep your eyes open,” he whispered in her ear, low and tempting, “I want you to watch.”

“Theo—”

The room was dimly lit, yet the scarlet flush on her body was clear for him to see. With one hand, he traced the rosy path from the valley of her breasts, up to the outline of her collarbone, before finally closing around her throat – tight enough to excite her, just how she loved it. When his fingers dug into her skin just right, the way her body arched so wonderfully against him was definitely something worthy of a painter’s brush.

Too bad the mere thought of anyone seeing her in this state was enough to make his blood boil.

“Listen to me. Look into the mirror.”

“No. Theo, stop, please—”

“You really want me to stop?” It was half-threat, half-question. Theo nibbled on the skin of her neck, savoring the heated moans he pulled out of her lips and shuddered when the sounds she made chased their way down his spine like gaslit flames.

“Mm—”

“Yes or no?”

“It’s embarrassing…”

Exactly, he thought. She didn’t want him to stop; she just needed to get over that initial embarrassment.

“You know your safe word. If you want me to stop, say it.” One. Two. Three. A small chuckle escaped him when he noticed the pout resting on her face, yet she said nothing. “I’ll take that as a no, then.”

His other hand moved to slide the straps of her nightgown off her shoulders, one by one, and as he did so she tried to turn her head away. It was no match to his strength though, and when she whined in embarrassment he couldn’t hold back his smile any longer.

Look, he wanted to tell her, to make her understand. Look at you.

How can I look at others, when I have you?

Her breasts were heaving rapidly as her breath quickened, and Theo couldn’t resist squeezing them. She moaned loudly, throwing her head back as his fingers played with them – pulling, massaging, pinching, or worse: bouncing them up and down, all while staring right into her eyes.

“What are you—!”

“Oh, but you like it, don’t you?” He parted her legs and slid her panties off, exposing her damp center. “See? It’s already soaked through.”

His fingers rubbed the wet slit up and down in an agonizingly slow yet firm caress, and it worked like magic – her legs opened even wider, leaving his throat dry. He had previously been ignoring how hard his own cock was but the sight really made the throbbing more insistent that it was almost painful; not to mention how his fangs were already out and itching for a taste of her.

“Can’t you see how ravishing you look right now?” he lightly bit her earlobe. “Or do I need to reveal more so you can see better?”

To his surprise she suddenly grabbed the back of his head and pulled him down for a fierce kiss. Long fingers winding roughly into his hair to forcefully tilt his head to the side, giving her a better angle to suck on his tongue and lick on the inside of his mouth as she pleased. If she was doing this to distract him from looking into the mirror, then it definitely worked because right now the only thing he could think about was how good everything felt; how the helpless moans she sighed into the kiss turned him on so much that it was a miracle he hadn't come out of sheer frustration alone.

When she finally broke the kiss first, gasping for air, he wasted no time in forcing her to look into the mirror once again with one hand before rubbing her clit in a harsh, repeated motion with the other. She let out a surprised squeal that almost immediately turned into broken gasps, desperately grabbing the messed-up bedsheets for purchase while her hips bucked uncontrollably.

"Does it feel that good?" He forced the words out despite wanting nothing more than to wreck her senseless right then and there. "Look at how gorgeous you are. I love how your body is always so honest to me."

Just as her legs started to tremble, he stopped the ministrations altogether – earning a loud whine from her. He was about to tease her several more times when she looked up at him with those doe eyes of hers; teary from the pleasure and face pink from ecstasy.

Theo knew a losing battle when he saw one.

"Nooo, don't stop now," her hand guìded his fingers back to her dripping center. The gesture was so impossibly hot that Theo had to bury his face in her shoulder and take deep breaths to keep from biting her. "Please? I'm so close…"

His own arousal felt like it was about to burst anyway. There's no way he would say no.

Theo stroked the length of her fold with a finger before it sought out the source of her wetness to slowly dip inside. It was only halfway in when she started grabbing his forearms impatiently and whining for more, so he added one more finger and immediately pushed them deep. Curling, scissoring, his palm rubbing against her clit with every motion as he plunged the digits in and out of her wet heat. At first he kept a leisurely pace, secretly enjoying the way her hips kept thrusting up to seek for more. Only when she started clawing on his arms hard enough to leave scratch marks that he decided to pick up the speed, pulling desperate moans out of her that went straight to his leaking cock.

The more he watched her wanton reflection in the mirror, the more the thought of fucking her became dizzying. When it culminated into something almost unbearable Theo finally gave in and sank his fangs into the soft skin of her neck, carelessly gulping down her blood in an attempt to quench his seemingly endless thirst for everything about her. The stimulation was apparently a little bit too much for her, though, because she suddenly cried out in a loud pathetic whimper; a rush of liquid gushing out of her and splattering the bed and mirror.

"Hahh— fuck, fuck that was so hot. That's it, don't hold back."

Still trembling, she let him guide her down on all fours. Through the mirror she caught him opening his zipper to stroke his erect cock and moaned in appreciation.

"Like what you see?"

"Yes," she answered without missing a beat, amusing him. “Yes, you look hot."

He slapped her ass hard, a little annoyed. "Exactly what I thought when I saw you. Do you understand now?"

Her only response was a shaky laugh, a little shy, and his heart felt so full like it was about to burst.

With his patience running out, Theo rammed into her so suddenly that her body jolted forward from the impact. The pace he set was relentless, punishing, and it didn't take long until her still-sensitive walls clenched down so tightly around his cock as she came again. Hot liquid of pleasure tightened low in his stomach, making his body rigid with tension that bordered on painful and it was almost too much but also not enough— until everything was released from him all at once, and all he could see was white.

But he wasn't finished.

Theo sneaked his hands below her knees and hoisted her up, facing the mirror one last time, before pulling his cock out. Too weak to resist, all she could do was watch as his cum and her own slick dripped down on them both – it was so stupidly erotic that Theo felt his arousal twitched back to life.

(Now's not the time, though.)

He put her down and mustered all the strength he had left to find the washcloth and clean them up. She'd want to take a bath again, but it would probably have to wait – seeing how limp and pliant she was in his arms.

"You okay?"

"Mmhm. Never better," she answered, giving a thumbs-up and earning her a very Theo-esque snort.

(She was most beautiful like this, he thought. Luxuriating in pleasure, being completely immersed in bliss while allowing himself to take care of her.)

As he finished wiping the inside of her thighs, she pulled herself up to give his cheek a kiss. Her lips brushed his throat as she spoke, knuckles grazing his waist as she leaned close enough to whisper: "Thank you, Theo."

But there was a glimmer in her eyes, like the moonlight reflected, that spoke more than her hesitant words ever could. Maybe this would be enough for now, but not for later. Maybe they would make another mistake in the long run, missing another red flag and forgetting how much they've been through. Maybe there would be times where his words ring hollow to her, or where his doubts and demons win over them both.

It's okay.

He didn't mind. They could always fix it together – they had all the time in the world.

"You're welcome."

Always.

Like what you just read? Want to see one of our authors tackle a character you love, all while supporting a great cause? Consider commissioning our group ( @dirtydoesgood​ ) in our February charity drive, or just spread the word if you can with a reblog!

[kookoosbunnynose]

Ch.1 || Ch.2

Pairing: Neighbor!Jungkook/FWB!Jungkook x Artist!Reader

Genre: Slowburn, Smut, Angst, Humor

Word Count: 11.4k

Warnings: Cursing | Slutty Jimin, we love him | mentions of emotional abuse | large jungcock | dom!jungkook | dom/sub themes |a singular use of a sir kink | dirty talk, lots | oral (f recieving) | he so gentle uwu, and then he’s very not gentle lmao

Summary: You’re an art student in need of a partner for your new collaboration piece, who is there to help you but your new neighbor, Jeon Jungkook. You two paint together but leave with much more than a colorful canvas.

A/N: Hello! I know! Dumb bitch finally updated the fic lmao. but i’m really excited about this part and even more excited for the rest of the fic. If you haven’t read chapter 1 yet go read it! 

-----------------------------------

Thankfully, even though you didn’t get to bed by the time you wanted last night, after the whole ‘y/n is a dumbass and got locked out’ debacle, you woke up with enough time to take it slow this morning. Mornings like these were your favorite, no rush. Just you sitting at your vanity getting ready for your day, jamming along to whatever song comes on your shuffle, using various items as a makeshift microphone.

You’re in the heat of Colors by Halsey when there’s a knock at your door, you abruptly cut off your poorly tuned melody, feeling caught. You quickly finish the eyebrow you’re working on as you don’t want the person at the door to see you with the one and a half you’re currently sporting. Good enough.

You rush to your front door, careful not to let your fluffy socks make you slip on the linoleum. When you open the door only to be greeted by your fluffy haired neighbor. He looks good in the morning too? Well that’s just fucking peachy. You’re making this difficult Jeon.

“Good morning.” You smile trying to hide how distraught you are.

“Good morning, sorry to bug you” he smiles sheepishly. “I was just hoping I could steal an egg from you? We’re out.” He asks hopeful.

“Oh, yeah of course. Just a second.” You turn on your heels to grab an egg from the kitchen. When your face is hidden by the fridge door you take a second to take a deep breath before making your way back to him. “Just one?” You ask when you hand it to him.

“Yeah one’s good, thank you y/n.” He gives you a small bow and opens his door. “See you later.”

---

“Hello gorgeous.” Yoongi says as your trio approaches the counter.

“Morning handsome.” Jimin smirks and steps in front of you.

“I was talking to y/n.”

“Her?” He looks over his shoulder at you. “While I’m here? That doesn’t sound right.” He scrunches his nose as if he’s doing mental math.

“I’ll just get your usual started.” He says leaning to the side so he can see your face.

“Thank you.” You laugh at them swipe your card and take the blueberry muffin he slides your way. You step to the side and wait for your boys to order their drinks.

“Remind me why we still come here.” Joon asks the two of you as you make your way to the pick-up end of the counter.

“Because we’ve been doing it since we started uni. We’re old and stuck in our ways, Joonie. There’s no backing out now.” You reply woefully.

“What are we? Boomers? We can go to a different coffee shop.” Namjoon furrows his brows.

“Order for Sweets!” A now familiar boxy smiled boy behind the counter says.

“Oh no we can’t. Not anymore.” Jimin says his attention caught by Tae.

“Look who wants to fuck the neighbors now!” You whisper yell at them before stepping toward the counter.

“Ha! You admit it!- Wait, neighbor?” You hear Jimin behind you.

“Hi Tae! Thank you.”

“Hello y/n!” He smiles and leans in to make his voice hushed. “If you don’t mind me asking, are you and Yoongi a thing? He covers like half your bill and calls you pet names everyday.” He lists off the, admittedly odd, circumstances of your relationship. 

“Oh, no we’re not. We just flirt back and forth. I think if he had any real intention behind it he would’ve asked me out by now, in my experience he’s pretty straight forward.” You chuckle.

“Ah okay. Would you want him to ask you out?”

“I did in the beginning but it’s been well over a year. As far as he goes, I’m sated with just the flirting.” 

“Ah, I see.” He turns away to grab the next two cups. “Orders for Jimin and Namjoon!” He calls over.

“Why do you ask?”

He pauses for a second. “I was just curious, he’s kinda like that with a couple girls but you seem to be his favorite.”

“Well it’s been a while, seniority I guess.” You shrug and your counterparts join you at the counter. “Oh how rude of me, these are my roommates. This is Taehyung.”

“Ah, nice to meet you, I’ll probably be seeing you guys a lot. I’m across the hall pretty often.” You all chuckle. “I wish I could talk longer but I don’t want to hold up the line, see you!” He smiles. 

The three of you give various forms of a goodbye as you leave to find your usual table. 

“Okay, is no one gonna say it?” Jimin says once you’re seated and safely out of ear shot.

“Say what?” Namjoon asks scrunching his face at his hot coffee.

“What do you mean ‘say what?’” Jimin says blinking slowly at your brother. “What is in those boys’ cheerios?” 

“Fiber?”

“No! You fucking tree!” 

“Y/n really? Now he’s calling me that, too?” You shrug.

---

You take a breath in as you walk into the art studio, the smell of paint and pencil lead tickling your nose. You take your usual seat at a large table and check your phone for your list of assignments. The professor sends you a large list of all the assignments at the beginning of the semester. Giving students the freedom to choose what order they do them in, the only stipulation is that you must have half turned in by midterms and the other half by the end of the semester. A much more doable lesson plan than a lot of your past professors. Being forced to be creative is draining and doesn’t get you far.

You scan down the list of possibilities until you find one that catches your eye. Monochromatic self portrait (any color)? No. Pretend you have synesthesia and illustrate your favorite song? Eh, not today. Collaboration piece? Ugh, I can’t even if I wanted to. I need to find someone to work with. Create 5 random custom colors and paint a landscape using only those colors (5”x5”)? Sounds like I could get that done before I leave. Perfect.

You pop in your earbuds and get to work. Deciding acrylic would be best for a quick painting, you grab a pallet and a sizable glob of each of the primary colors along with black and white. A little red here, a little yellow there, and some white for this one. You continue putting in different combinations until you have five colors you’re happy with not worrying if they’ll make sense for scenery. Fuck it. Who says trees can’t be purple? 

As you dip your brush into your small selection of paints and watch the way the colors glide onto the canvas, it makes a sense of ease wash over you. Breathing life into a piece no matter how simple creates a new little reality in it’s own right. Expands our universe one brush stroke at a time. In the least cringy art kid way possible, of course.

You continue your work, mouthing along to your music as you go. Rust tinted grass and a peachy sky coming together in a way that definitely isn’t realism but ends up having a sunset feel due to the warm hues you chose. Just a few touch ups here and there and you’re done.

You pack up your things and head home with your new little creation to dry completely overnight. It’s already mostly dry but the textured parts still have a way to go. 

---

  “I really need to go grocery shopping. Thank you again, y/n.” Bunny teeth shining as he leaves your apartment with a mug of tea in place of the hot water he showed up with.

Today is day… eight? Of a new routine has developed over the course of the week. Everyday without fail, whether it be morning or evening, an egg or a cup of milk. Jungkook comes over and asks for a small food item, thanks you, and returns home. No big deal, but it’s apparent that those idiots really need to restock their fridge. It’s like having a stray cat that comes around every night after you feed it once. A really big stray cat… with pretty hair, and a cute lip mole, that always smells like fresh laundry and citrus… anyway-

Time to officially start the day and pretend that little mental tangent didn’t just happen. Go team!

You finish doing some light makeup and throw on some ripped mom jeans and a black hoodie. Enough effort to look like you care, but still comfy. You throw your bag over your shoulder, slip your boots on and head out the door.

Finding parking on campus at this time of day is a nightmare and usually takes longer than just walking since you live just off school grounds. So you make your short walk and stop by the cafe by yourself. You usually go alone only once a week; there’s only one day where you’re the only one of your roomies to have a morning class. 

You order, give Tae his morning hello and make your way to class. 

Classes pass with relative ease. You listen and take notes; taking notes more so meaning doodling along the margins of your notebook than anything else. Really putting those scholarships to good use. 

Art history, meeting with the theater department about painting props, studio, home. 

You enter your apartment and are met with Jimin and Namjoon sitting on the couch about to start the obligatory bi-monthy screening of Your Name. 

“Hey! Were you gonna start the movie without me?” You kick off your shoes and take a running leap onto your spot on the couch.

“No! We were waiting for you, we’re not monsters.” Namjoon retorts in defense.

“That’s exactly what someone who wasn’t waiting for me would say.” You narrow your eyes at your little brother at the other end of the couch.

“Would you two stop bickering for two seconds. It’s starting.” Jimin puts a hand over both your mouths from his spot between you.

“Sheesh, grumpy pants.” You grumble when he lowers his arms.

The movie is filled with the same sobs and ‘awe’s that it always is, always ending in tears for at least one of you. Breathtaking animation coupled with a heart wrenching story, no matter how many times you watch it, it never fails to amaze. As much as you would’ve loved more closure at the end of the movie, the ambiguous ending couldn’t be more poetic. 

“Joonie, what would you do if we switched bodies?” You turn to your brother as the credits roll.

“Probably get a discounted coffee.” He deadpans.

“Oh, you’re no fun!”

“More money in my bank account sounds very fun.” 

Your retort cut off by a knock at the door from your neighbor for his daily snack, so you settle for throwing the pillow sitting in your lap in his direction as you stand. Which he tries to swat away only to end up with a faceful of cushion. Ha, get got bitch.

“Do you need an egg?” You say as you open the door.

“Uh- No I’m good? Thank you for asking.” Tae chuckles, you freeze your eyes widening.

“Oh my god, I thought you were Jungkook.” You let out a stiff laugh and shuffle your feet in embarrassment. “Anyway, what brings you all this way?” You joke, attempting to alleviate a bit of the blush on your cheeks.

“I just wanted to see if you’d wanna chill with us tonight? We had a lot of fun last time. Nothing special, but I wanted to see if you were up for it.” He smiles. “You guys are more than welcome to join too if you’d like!” He shouts over your shoulder at the boys sitting on the couch when he notices them sitting there.

“Nah we’re good Jimin and I have a test in the morning, and if I don’t force him to study with me he’ll fail.” Namjoon says from the couch

“I would not!” Jimin turns to him offended.

“Okay, I’ll study alone then.”

“No, please help me.” He deflates.

“See.” Joon smirks. “Thank you for the offer though!” He calls over to Tae.

“No problem, next time?”

“Next time.” He echoes.

“I’ll hold you to it.” He points a slender finger in your brother’s direction. “What about you, y/n? Are you down?” He directs his attention back to you.

“Right now?”

“If that works for you, Kook will be back from work shortly, it’ll just be Hobi and I for a little bit.” 

“Yeah, sounds good to me.” You smile. “Just let me go grab a couple things real quick and then I’m good to go!”

You scurry to your bedroom and take a look at yourself in the mirror, evaluating the damage the day has done to your makeup. Not bad. You give the apples of your cheeks a quick squeeze to bring back a little color, scramble to find your tinted lip balm, and fluff up your hair a little. There we go. Cute. Now to find something to bring with me so this little panicked face check isn’t a complete lie. Phone charger is good.

With your phone charger in hand and a revived complexion you head back out. 

“Thanks for waiting.” Tae gives you a nod and you smile while you give your boys a wave as you walk out the door.

You walk into the boys apartment and are immediately greeted by a wagging Bread who you kneel to give a plethora of loves, giggling when he hops up and tries to kiss your face.

“Hey y/n!”

“Hey Hobi!” You say as you follow Tae over to the couch with Bread right on your heels. 

“Glad you decided to join us. Kook will be here soon, he left work not long ago.” 

“I gave her the run down before we came over.” Tae smiles.

“How have classes and shit been?” You ask them

“Not ideal. I pulled a muscle in my leg.” Hobi rubs his calf. “With a big performance coming up on friday, but the show must go on, you know.” He shrugs.

“Oh shit dude, will you be okay?”

“He does this at least once a semester.” Tae says waving it off, used to his friend pushing through his injuries. 

“Yeah, it sucks for a bit but I’ll have some wiggle room to rest after this test.” He reassures.

“Okay good, just don’t die.” You chuckle.

“I’ll try not to.” He laughs.

“I’ve been doing a few surveys for my psych classes, would you mind if I get some data from you?” Tae looks to you, taking full advantage of the small lull in conversation.

“Tae no.” Hobi’s face falls and he rubs his temples.

“Do you find Chuck E. Cheese fuckable?” He asks, a genuine question mark in his eyes.

You blink. “What the hell kind of psych classes are you taking?”

“Just answer the question, y/n.”

You look at Hobi for some sort of answer, though you’re not even sure what your question is. “You’re gonna have to just answer him, he’s been on about it all day.” 

“Fucking of course not. Why on earth would I want to fuck a rat? And even if I did, why would I want to fuck a robotic rat roughly the size of an entire kindergarden class?” 

“First of all, he’s a mouse.” Tae corrects. “Second of all, THANK YOU!” He throws his arms up and flops against the back of the couch. “One kid in my class started this somehow and the room was surprising split. About forty percent of the people in that room said ‘Charles Entertainment Cheese’ was sexy! It got pretty heated, people were yelling that the opposing side that we ‘just couldn't handle his raw sexual power.’” He says exasperated with overdone air quotes. “So I’ve been asking everyone all day because I just can’t stop thinking about it.”

“I suppose I can see how that would plague your mind.” You laugh.

“Anyway!” Hobi interjects, clearly tired of the subject. “How are your things going, y/n?” 

You chuckle at his wide eyes. “They’ve been good. I’ve been spending more time in the studio with midterms coming up. But I need to find someone to work with me on a collab piece. I wanna have it in by midterms so I don’t have to worry about it during finals.” you sigh at the thought. 

“Awh, I would help with that but I already did that assignment and I’m not sure if they’d let me do it again with someone else?” Tae says with a small frown.

“I’d offer but the only thing I am versed in is drawing stick figures and arguably anatomically incorrect dicks.” Hobi chuckles.

“Thanks you guys.” You smile. “It’s alright though, I might just ask Jimin to get drunk and throw some paint at a canvas with me.”

“Hey! This reminds me, a couple days ago when you got coffee you promised you’d show me some of your work when we hung out next.” Tae looks at you sternly, arms tight across his chest. “The time has come Miss y/n.” 

“Ah, I suppose I did.” You say as you grab your phone to show him your album of a bunch of your work. “Okay, but I’m no Van Gogh. Go easy on me.” You warn before you hand over your device to him; you always get a little nervous when you show people your art for the first time.

“Hey hey! None of that nonsense! If the way you talk about art is any consolation, then I’m sure the passion alone is enough to make it beautiful.” Tae gives you a stern look followed by a reassuring smile.

“Do you want me to cry? Because this is how you make me cry.” You chuckle and relent your collection of work over to him for them to inspect. 

They open the first photo and you’re met with a mixture of a ‘holy shit’ from Hobi and a ‘wow’ from Tae, their reactions make you smile and your face heat up. 

“These are amazing y/n!” Hobi says as Tae swipes through.

“Thank you guys so much, really.” You say blushing and all but clutching your chest.

You watch their faces intently as they go through, Tae stopping every so often to zoom in and inspect a certain brushstroke that catches his eye. They get toward the end of the photoset when you hear a key in the front door. You’re the only one to turn your head to see Jungkook walk into the apartment. He sets his keys down on the table next to the entrance and his feet stutter a little when he sees you on the couch with his friends. 

“Hey Kook! Y/n was just showing us some of her art, dude she’s so talented!” Hobi calls over his shoulder.

“It’s really good, you should come take a look.” Tae adds, and you laugh nervously.

“That’s so awesome, I will.” He says looking at you with a smile. “I just need to talk to Tae, for a quick second.” He says turning his gaze toward him and tilting his head toward the hall. 

“Oh, is it about that thing?” Tae grits his teeth and sucks in sharp breath.

“Yes, exactly, the thing.” He confirms vaguely, looking relieved.

“Is everything okay?” You furrow your brows and look at each of them.

“He just has a rash, no worries.” Tae tells you in a hushed tone as he stands up. All you can do is blink in response. Jungkook lets out an exaggerated laugh as they disappear into the dark hallway and out of sight.

Once they are safely in the other room Jungkook flicks Tae in the forehead. 

“Ow!” Tae gasps.

“What the fuck was that for?!” Jungkook whisper yells at his idiot of a best friend.

“I was covering for you!”

“You could’ve said literally anything else! I don’t even have a rash!”

“She doesn’t know that!”

“Exactly, you fuck!” Jungkook whispers flicking him again. “Why is she here?! You didn’t warn me!”

“This is what I get for trying to help you?” Tae says rubbing his forehead with a pout.

“Hey! I was handling it just fine on my own!”

“Oh yeah, your plan to slowly raid the entire contents of her fridge was going so great!”

“I just thought!... I thought we would eventually talk or... something?” Jungkook says realizing maybe it wasn’t the best plan in the world. “That’s how my parents used to get to know our neighbors, they’d borrow each others sugar and shit.”

“It’d be easier to talk to her if you just hung out with her and I invited her over for you. You’re welcome! And your parents weren’t trying to fuck your neighbors, were they! Different goal calls for different strategy.” 

“Dude gross, I hope not.” Jungkook scrunches his nose. “And I don’t… just wanna fuck her.”

“Aww, does Googie have a bigger crush than we thought he did.” Tae teases pinching his cheek.

“Fuck you. But thanks I guess… just warn me next time, will you?” Jungkook relents.

“You got it.” Tae says patting him on the shoulder. “I’m only kinda sorry though!” He whispers as he slips out the door. Jungkook follows him to join all of you in the living room.

“Sorry about that.” Jungkook smiles at you as he and Tae take their places next to you on the couch. 

“No worries.” You assure.

“Kook you should take a look at her work, I think you’d like it.” Hobi says passing your phone over to him and your face heats up a little. “I was just telling y/n how you were really artsy in high school.” 

“Oh, it was nothing.” Jungkook waves him off as he starts to look through the photos and stopping a little longer on ones that catch his eye. 

“It wasn’t nothing.” Tae interjects. “Actually y/n, you mentioned needing a partner for that collab piece? Since I can’t assist, I’m sure Jungkook could help you out.” Tae gestures to the two of you.

“Oh no, I couldn’t ask him to do that for me.” You shake your head, looking at both their faces.

Jungkook tilts his head to the side for a second. “I wouldn’t mind at all, it would be fun. I might be a little rusty though.” He says with worried eyes.

“Really? you wouldn’t mind?” You light up. “That would help me out a ton. I’ve been stressing over that piece for weeks.”

“I’d be happy to.” He smiles bright. “I’m off on Saturday, we could work on it then. If that works for you, of course.” 

“You’ve got yourself a deal.” You reach out to shake his hand, effectively sealing the deal. “Thank you so much.” you say and squeeze his hand a little.

“So Kook, I’m collecting data for my psych class-” Tae takes this opportunity to stain your moment of gratitude.

“I already told you, I’m not fuckin’ rats!” Jungkook cuts him off.

“He’s not a rat!”

“Which side are you on?!”

---

“Did I call it? Or did I call it?” Jin looks at you with his stupid smug ass face.

“Listen! It’s nothing!” You throw that damp rag you’re wiping down a table with in his direction.

“It’s not nothing! I can smell your pent up sexual frustration for him from here. You guys are gonna be alone for several hours making art together? What is he, Swayze?”

“Men and women can be platonic friends! You’re not thinking very progressively here, old man.”

“Of course, men and women can be platonic friends.” He says gesturing at the air between you. “But you and what’s his fuck, Junglebook, you said? You two, cannot.” 

“Your lack of faith in me is astounding.” 

“I wouldn’t call it a lack of faith in you, more of an educated assumption… And a lack of faith in both of you.” He smirks. Asshole.

“Fuck you.” You deadpan.

“You know you love me y/nie.” He blows you a kiss.

“You’re lucky I do.”

---

You: I can bring the supplies over whenever you’re ready, just lemme know! Thank you for letting me come over there, it would be hard for creative juices flowing with Joon hovering over us all night. Trying to figure out a deep psychological reason for me painting a flower yellow lmao

You: Oh! And wear clothes you don’t mind getting paint on, stains are inevitable :)

And send. 

Okay listen to me you dumb bitch. You can do this. We got this. For fuck sake why are you so nervous? Pull yourself together! Just enough to prove Jin and Jimin wrong. Do it just to rub it in their faces! Fuck. What are you 12? We can hang out alone with him. This is stupid. I’m stupid. It’s fine. Everything is fine! Shut up.

Tight Buns McCute-Dog: You can come over now, I’m just gonna change real quick, the door is unlocked! (: 

After receiving that reply, instead of him just cancelling, you were relieved he was still willing to help you. However it didn’t help the whole sweating from your ass cheeks with nerves, thing. So overall about the same. Great. 

Doing an abstract painting in these mental conditions will result in accidentally painting several phallic shapes. A Freudian Slip of the wrist if you will. 

After a couple deep breaths, effectively shoving half your feelings deep into the crevices of your mind, and changing his contact name, just for good measure. You grab all the supplies you’ll need and walk across the hall. 

You struggle to open your door while balancing your small box of acrylics, easel and canvas in your arms. Deciding to abandon your easel in the hall for a second while you knock on your neighbor’s door a couple times before you turn the knob. 

Bread is already eager and yipping at you for attention while you attempt to bring everything in and set it up to the side of the living room adjacent to the kitchen. 

---

Jungkook opens your texts and mouths a small ‘oh shit’ not wanting to keep you waiting, but quickly regretting his decision to work out right before he saw you. He wanted to look a little extra muscley but didn’t consider that he’d be a sweaty mess after doing so. 

He settles for telling you he’s changing and hopes you take a few minutes to gather your things so he can blow dry his hair a little. 

Your presence in his apartment is made known when he hears his dog barking and scuttling around. He gives his hair a quick tousel, throws on one of his many black hoodies and a little spritz of cologne. 

Jungkook emerges from his bedroom to find you fumbling with your easel. Cute. 

“Do you need help?” he asks through a giggle.

“Nope! Got everything a hundred percent under control over here.” Your sentence punctuated by your canvas falling to the floor. “Shit.”

“Allow me.” he says handing you the canvas.

“Thank you.” you breath and run a hand through your hair. 

“So what’s the plan? I hope you’re not expecting any Sistine Chapel level work from me.” he chuckles.

“A bunch of naked babies and a priest with the ears of an ass? I appreciate that you don’t bring that to the table.” you raise your brows. 

“Point taken.” 

“The plan is no plan. I mean I wanted to go for something abstract because it’s fun and doesn’t require a lot of brain power. Just put the brush where you think it should go.” you mime a couple brush strokes in the air.

“Sounds easy enough, paint from the heart.” he confirms, patting his chest for emphasis. 

“Oh, I did think one of us could be in charge of warm colors and tints, and the other could do cool colors and shades, and see where that takes us.” you look up expectantly, hoping he likes your almost-plan.

“Sounds interesting.” He looks at the empty canvas, eyes scanning for possibilities. “Which do you want?” 

“I’m partial to cool colors, myself.” 

“Then today, I’m partial to warm.” he smirks. “So are we just feeling what we feel in the moment or is there an emotion we’re trying to convey?” He turns to you, eyes expectant. 

You pause for a second, unsure if you should abandon the theme you were pondering for this piece before you knew Jungkook would be your partner in creation. “Is it too cliche if the theme was ‘love’?” You ask him hesitantly. Immediately regretting not just saying ‘nah man, just throw paint at that bitch.’ 

But much to your surprise. 

“Not at all, it’s a ‘cliche’ for a reason.” He states nonchalantly. “Love is powerful. Whether it’s the painful bit or the part that makes you feel untouchable.” 

A certain fondness hits his eyes that tells you he’s speaking from experience but you don’t pry.

“I’m glad you like the idea.” you smile, relief filling you after he doesn’t exhibit any signs of being uncomfortable. 

He claps his large palms together. “Shall we get started, Miss y/n?” His gaze once directed at the blank canvas, now fully on you. 

“Choose your weapon, Mr. Jungkook.” You feign a serious tone, giving him a small handful of various brushes. Keeping a few of your favorites for yourself. 

You push your box paints toward him indicating he can grab what he likes. Normally you’re a bit protective over your art supplies, seeing as not only are they stupid expensive, but you care for your tools a lot. You wouldn’t let your klutzy brother within a ten foot radius of your things when you were growing up and even now your blood boils if he’s anywhere near your expertly sorted colored pencils. But Jungkook is always gentle and seeing the way he meticulously places small globs of white, reds, and yellows onto his palette, you know you’ve made a good choice in trusting him. 

He steps slightly back letting you put the first ceremonial brush stroke of charcoal black diagonally across the upper most half of your canvas. He joins shortly after deciding to start with white in contrast with your black, laying down some bases for shapes and choosing to run his brush through to disturb the various lines you’ve made, dragging the two tones into a fading grey. 

As your mind wanders towards the way his slender tattooed fingers wrap delicately around the paint brush you quickly come to the conclusion that it’s time to play some background music. Absentmindedly sticking the handle of the brush between your teeth to grab your phone and open your music library.

“What kind of music do you like?” You turn to him, the thin strip of wood in your mouth giving you a slight lisp. 

“I’m not picky, play whatever you want.” he says warmly but his brow still furrowed with concentration while he finishes up his base layer. 

As his answer didn’t do much in the way of helping your quest, you opted for the safety of one of those throwback playlists spotify procures for their listeners, the 90’s one to be exact. Everybody loves some good nostalgia, and it may aid in the sincerity of your painting. Past emotions and whatnot. 

The first song that comes on after you hit shuffle is Heart-Shaped Box by Nirvana and you hum in content. Jungkook on the other hand is pleasantly taken aback by your song choice. 

“Oh shit yeah! I love Nirvana!” He smiles brightly, taking his crinkling eyes off his work for the first time since you started. 

“Everybody loves Nirvana.” you tease him and roll your eyes at the possibility of him being one of those frat boys that ‘misses Kurt Cobain so much’ but can only name Smells Like Teen Spirit and maybe Aneurysm if you’re lucky. 

Jungkook, sensing your tone, smirks and runs his tongue along the inside of his cheek. “You think so, huh?” he bemuses, rolling up his sleeve to uncover this inked skin. Across his forearm is a quote reading ‘rather be dead than cool,’ a lyric from their song Stay Away. He watches you with a quirked brow.

“I stand corrected.” you hold your hands up in defense. Trying not to let the way his inked skin hugs his veins increases your heart rate become too apparent on your features. “You do indeed love Nirvana.” your emphasis on the word being placed differently this time.

“Never doubt me again y/n.” He eyes you suspiciously. “I’ll get more tattoos just to spite you.” He narrows his eyes to add validity to his semi-empty threat.

“I will never doubt you again, scouts honor.” you say playfully saluting him. 

“Now start the song over. Your lack of faith in me, made me miss half the song.” he points a finger at your phone.

“I can’t, I don’t have premium.” you let out a heavy sigh.

“What?! That’s dumb. You suffer through those god awful ads?” He screws his face up in disgust. 

“Eh, I don’t mind too much.” You shrug. “I don’t wanna spend the extra money every month.” 

“Okay, I guess that’s fair.” He squints at you as you pick up your brush again. “Why don’t you just use my account? I’ll text you my login.” He says fishing for his phone in his pocket. 

“That’s completely unnecessary.” You laugh, and wave for him to stop. “You’re already helping me out so much with this.” you gesture to the now less blank canvas in front of you.

“I really don’t mind. What’s the worst that could happen? We expand our music libraries? Oh no!” he pretends to gasp and you roll your eyes. “And besides, I’ll sleep better at night knowing I saved a soul from those creepy ass vitamin water commercials.” He chuckles.

“You really don’t have to.” Your eyes softening at his seemingly endless stream of kindness. 

“Already sent you the login, too late.” he says, sucking in a breath as if to say ‘what a shame.’

“Thank you, Jungkook.” you say as you gently grab his forearm and run your thumb over it.

“You’re welcome.” He smiles. “Back to work now!” he declares, sticking his paint brush, that at some point in your conversation tucked it’s way behind his ear, into his small mountain of yellow. 

You work like this together for a while. Humming along to your music, that is now playing off Jungkook’s phone after he insisted he didn’t wanna hear ‘Colonel Suck-My-Ass’ sing about his chicken deals one more time. The two of you working together seamlessly; the way you blend your colors and make textures complimenting each other nicely. Switching sides of the canvas every so often so it remains balanced. 

After about an hour of being immersed in your work Jungkook turns to you. “Noodle break?” He asks you frowning at his empty tummy.

Your brush stutters on the canvas at his words, your stomach not realizing it’s been hours since you’ve eaten until he mentions food. “That sounds wonderful, actually.” 

“One or two packets?” he asks making his way into the kitchen.

“Just one is good.” you smile, setting your brush into your cup of water. You follow him into the kitchen. “Where do you store your liquid?” you ask standing between the pantry and the fridge, looking lost.

“Fridge.” he answers giving his approval to let you grab the two of you some drinks.

“I see you guys finally went grocery shopping.” you chuckle at the butter and cartons of eggs in his fridge.

“What?- oh right, yeah. Finally dragged Hobi out earlier today.” His smile not quite meeting his eyes while he opens up three packets of ramen, and waits for the water to boil. 

“Can I steal a soda?” 

“Yeah, just not the sprite. Hobi can and will throw a fit.” his tone far more serious than the situation calls for.

“Well damn, okay.” you say and grab a coke for both of you. 

“Thank you.” He smiles and your fingertips brush perhaps a little too long when you hand him his drink. 

He pulls the tab, puts the cold metal to his lips and you watch the way his throat bobs up and down with every swig. When you feel yourself staring your ears heat up, and turn your gaze to the water starting to roll in the pot. 

As Jungkook is finishing up cooking the ramen, the song changes to Iris by The Goo Goo Dolls, you let out a small gasp and start to sing along. He smiles at your apparent love for the song and starts to harmonize with you to encourage you to keep going. Which, much to his dismay, did the exact opposite.

“Jeon Jungkook!” you scold. “I didn’t know you had such a beautiful voice!” 

“It’s alright, I guess.” He breathes out and rubs the back of his neck a little embarrassed. “You’re not too bad yourself.” He looks at you with those big doe eyes. And you swear you’ll only look at them for a couple more seconds, as not to fall under their spell. A half hearted oath at best. 

But you start to sing again, you tell yourself it’s to make the most of the song while it’s on but really, you just want to hear honeyed voice hit your ears again. And it does, eyes closed tightly and mouth wide to control his sound. You can’t hold a tune to save your life but the way he carries your sounds with his, it doesn’t matter. Your song is beautiful.

After your musical interruption, you take your bowls to the table and slurp away at your noodles. All the while Bread is at your heels begging ever so sweetly, which Jungkook scolds but ultimately ends up throwing him a noodle when his bowl is just about gone. 

You take your bowl to the sink but when you start rinsing Jungkook comes over to push you out of the way so he can take care of it himself. You stand your ground for a minute but lose the silent argument due to his advantage of stature. You mutter a small ‘fuck you’ before you return to the canvas, and he smiles contently to himself.

Jungkook joins you back at your station, stepping back for a moment to assess where the two of you left off and what he’d like to add. He lets his eyes run over the varying sized lines and the way they come together but also fight one another in some spots. Some colors as bright as the sun and others look like the depths of the ocean. All coming together in a way that only really makes sense to the two of you. 

You finished what was left of your drink and picked up your brush, dipping straight into your black paint for the second time since you started like you were on a mission. You drew a fluid line near the center curving over a few existing splotches, near the end of your brush stroke it became jagged and split off into several directions. A pessimist would call it a shatter, an optimist would call it several opportune paths, and a realist would probably just call it a painting. But Jungkook did none of those things.

“Y/n, have you ever been in love?” He asked as if he had only asked what time it was. He started swirling some colors together while he waited for an answer.

You blinked, trying not to show how much that question shocked you. “I suppose…” you breathed, actually struggling to come up with a real answer. “I mean, last time I was in a serious relationship was in highschool.” You trailed off. “I don’t know if I can say I’ve been in love but I’ve loved someone before… I feel like being in love sticks with you in a different way. More of a life experience than a life lesson.” You scrunched up your face a little, hoping he’d be satisfied with your answer even though you yourself weren’t.

He nodded, taking in your words. “I think being in love can be just as much a life lesson as ‘lesser relationships,’ if not more so.” He adds putting air quotes as not to come across the wrong way. “But hopefully you end up with more positive lessons than not.”  

“Yeah, you’re right. Like learning how you love and need to be loved. What you deserve and what you won’t put up with. Learn to let yourself be loved-” You stop your word vomit after that last comment, feeling a bit vulnerable. “Those kinds of things?” you let out a little laugh.

“Exactly.”

“Is it fair to assume that you have?” You question, hesitating slightly.

“That I have what?” 

“Been in love, dummy.” You laugh, strategically placing a light green around the canvas.

He pauses slightly. “Yeah, I have.” The same fondness that found his eyes earlier that day sets in again. Not in a painful or bitter way, you noted. But in the way you’d regard your favorite childhood memory.

“I didn’t rub salt in a wound, did I?” you tensed slightly incase you read him wrong.

“No no, you’re fine!” He reassures. “It was a long time ago. Don’t get me wrong, it hurt like a bitch in the moment, but as they say, time heals all wounds.” he shrugs.

“Can I ask what happened?” You prompted, feeling a little braver this time.

“Well you know, same old story with high school sweethearts.” He paused to fix a spot he didn’t like. “She was a year older than me. She left for university. We tried long distance and after a few months we decided it was too hard. Nothing particularly spectacular.” He tells the story, for what you can tell is at least the thousandth time. “What about you and Mr. Not-Quite-In-Love?”

“Nothing, super special either. Unfortunately, the lessons I learned from him were less than positive. After the initial honeymoon phase, he didn’t treat me the best. Looking back I learned to know the level of respect I deserve, but in the moment his lack of just made me desperate to ‘earn’ it. It was a vicious cycle for about a year but things ended and I grew up. And like you said, ‘time heals all wounds.’” Jungkook looked at you with furrowed brows, not sure if he wants to hug you or the seventeen year old girl you used to be who would see herself as anything less than what she was. But he settled for the former.

He wrapped his arms around you, taking you by surprise. But you accept his embrace and smile against his shoulder. “I’m okay now Jungkook.” You giggle. “It was a long time ago and I learned from it.”

He pulls away. “I know, I’m just sorry it took that dickbag for you to know your worth.” he gives you a sheepish smile, and a fire in his eyes dulls when he looks at you.  

“Thank you, you’re very sweet.” you pat his arm before you both turn back to your respective parts of the canvas. 

“Hey, just cause I’m not a complete asshole, doesn’t mean I’m sweet.”

“I’m holding firm at you’re sweet, and you can’t change my mind.” You both laugh and return your full attention back to your work.

Your rhythm returns to where it was before you ate. Both of you humming along to whatever song is playing at the moment, using your paint brushes as microphones if a particularly good song came on. Exchanging a few words here and there. Each admiring the small things the other chooses to add to the work of art. You noticed Jungkook has a habit of biting his lips when he’s concentrating. Cute. 

Now here you finally are after another hour of blending, layering, and tweaking. Both of you put down your brushes down and stepped back slightly to admire what you’ve created. Letting out a sigh at your hard work, taking in the finalized piece. The way the colors run together or bump into one another. The juxtaposition of fluid lines being interrupted by jagged edges. The way the soberness of the colors you put down calm and soothe the firey and vibrant ones he laid down for you.

Ordinarily, when you finish a painting, you never quite feel done. There’s always one more thing you could fix, one more stroke you could add. But not this time. It’s finished. Breathtaking in a simple way. You’ve never felt such a sense of completeness when you set your brush down, and you can’t help but feel you have Jungkook to thank for it. The way his colors and brush work complemented yours was… for lack of a better term, a work of art. 

---

Jungkook puts down his brush, watching you lay down your final touches. Truth be told he’d been watching you out of the corner of his eye the entire time. Checking in on you every so often when you’d put down your tool and furrow your brows in concentration. Smiling when you’d absentmindedly mumble to yourself about what you’re doing. He was in awe of how much of yourself you put down on the canvas, not entirely sure what wordless stories you were telling meant. Though that didn’t stop him from taking the puzzle pieces you laid down and arranging them into a y/n shaped jigsaw in his mind. Perhaps your fondness of calming colors was to tame the wild fire he could see within you. 

And just as quickly as you’d started, you were done, setting your brush down and smiling at what you saw in front of you. 

“Thank you so much, Jungkook.” You breathe still taking in the painting. “It’s beautiful.” 

“Yeah, it is.” He says just above a whisper, never taking his eyes off your beaming profile. 

“Hm?” You turn to him. He looks into your eyes, once filled with fire are now a calm ocean. His gaze shifts to your lips after they form a confused pout at his silence, his body leading his brain when he leans toward you.

It’s now or never.

He leans in further looking into your eyes for any sign of apprehension before he cups your jaw in his paint stained hand. Finally taking the leap all at once when you lean into his touch. 

His lips are even softer than you imagined when they meld against yours. He pulls away slightly to look at you a question mark across his features. You put your hands flush against his hard chest and answer his question by reconnecting your lips with his with fervor and you feel him smile against you. He deepens the kiss, putting his free hand on your hip to pull you closer to his warm body. 

He swipes his tongue along your bottom lip, testing the waters further. You mirror his action, noting that his lips taste faintly of strawberries. You slide your hands into his soft hair and curl your fingers into fists against his scalp making him groan into your mouth. 

His hand that held its feather like touch against your face leaves it’s place to join his other around your waist. His hands squeezing harshly at your hips, his fingers digging into the strip of skin your shirt rode up to expose, making you shiver against him despite your rising temperature. 

He pulls away to place sloppy kisses along your jaw, nudging your jaw with his nose gently to gain access to your neck. You suck in a breath when you pull him closer causing his teeth to graze your pulse point as his swollen lips leave rosey marks in their wake. He sucks harshly at the soft spot below your ear causing your nerves to flare and a moan to escape your lips. He groans in satisfaction at the way his actions affect you, running his hot tongue over your skin to soothe the marks he made. 

His hands move higher on your abdomen slipping just under the hem of your shirt, making you tense slightly under his calloused palms, he feels your shift and rubs his thumbs below your ribcage to relax your tensed muscles. His gentle fingers vastly opposing his flushed cheeks when he brings his face up to yours again, his hair already messy and his eyes dazed as he looks at your lips like they’re the first glass of water he’s seen in days. He crashes his lips back into yours hungrily causing you to squeak at his desperation. You disconnect your lips leaving almost no distance between you.

“Bedroom?” you ask lowley against his lips, your vocal chords betraying you making the word come out far more shaky and less sexy than you wanted. His shoulders flex under your hands at his request.

Jungkook slides his hands down your ass to squeeze the flesh in his hands when his finger tips graze the back of your thighs. 

“Up.” he says firmly, offering you free transport to his bed. You hop up, his strong arms hold you and you wrap your legs tightly around his narrow waist. He starts the small walk to his bedroom, and you try to ignore the way his stomach pressed against your clothed clit is providing the smallest amount of friction with each of his steps, instead deciding to direct your attention to him instead. You give a gentle open mouthed kiss to the small mole on the side of his neck, you make a small path sucking where his jaw meets his neck, and he hums deeply making his chest rumble against yours in response.

When you reach his room, the smell of his fabric softener fills your lungs as he presses your back against his now closed door. His hands trail from your ass, trusting you to hold yourself up around him, up your sides, he slides your arms from around his neck and to the wall until your hands are effectively pinned above your head. The air between you is heavy for a moment as his dark eyes take in how you look like this, your eyes starry as your chest rises and falls in anticipation of his next move. 

He kisses you again, slower this time. You whimper into his mouth when his hips grind his hard dick into your clit. His thighs flexing under yours as he grinds up again harder, swallowing as many of your beautiful sounds as you’ll give him. 

He stops his hips and tucks his arms under you again to set you on his bed. 

You reach your shirt to pull it over your head but he stops you.

“Let me.” He says half a statement, half a question. 

You smile and say nothing but grant him permission by raising your arms above your head. He hooks his fingers into the hem of your shirt grazing your skin making goosebumps blossom on your flesh as he pulls it up and over your head. He reaches for the clasp of your bra slowly and gently like you might break, as if he wasn’t just shoving you against his door with his cock. 

“Fuck.” He breathes out harshly when your hardened nipples are finally released to the cool air of his room.

He quickly strips off his hoodie revealing that he’s been painting without a shirt underneath the whole night. Your breath hitches as all the times you’d touched his arm or chest the hours prior, not knowing there was only a thin barrier between your fingers and his skin. You run your eyes over his bare chest and hard stomach, you knew he worked out but hot damn, those baggy clothes he wears does no justice to what’s under them. However he doesn’t give you much time to marvel before he reconnects his lips with yours leaning into you until your back is on his duvet, you spread your legs to make room for him to settle in between. 

His hot skin drags softly against your nipples as he descends down your frame to pepper kisses along the valley of your breasts. He licks his fingers to roll one of your nipples between his wet digits while he attaches his mouth the other, swirling his tongue in intoxicating circles. You sigh at the small relief his mouth is bringing you and tangle your fingers in his hair, tugging roughly when his teeth bite down onto your sensitive bud. You feel the bed bow slightly below you as his hips stutter at your action. He quickly tends to the small sting with his tongue. Giving a gentle kiss to your nipple as he pulls away. 

He sits up and hooks his fingers into your pants, but stops before tugging them down. “Is this okay?” He asks sincerely. 

“Very.” You say, your heart clenching at his concern and help him slide your pants to your ankles, eager to have his soft skin on yours again. 

He brings his lips to your neck again and you wrap your legs around his waist rocking your hips up to rub your neglected clit against his rigid cock that he has yet to spring free. The wet spot on your panties rubbing off onto his sweats. You moan into his ear at the small relief you’re able to bring yourself, arching your back further in attempt to get more friction and he chuckles against your skin.

“Patience, sweetheart.” He smirks down at you and your feeble attempt to feel his cock. 

“Don’t wanna be patient. Want you to fuck me.” You say trying your best not to whine, as you reach for the waistband of his pants. 

He runs his tongue along his lip and leans down until his lips brush the shell of your ear. “Oh, don’t worry beautiful, I will.” He moves your hands and rolls his hips into yours once to punctuate his sentence. “But I wanna taste you first.” He says and quickly sits back on his knees to slip your underwear down your legs, tossing them behind him not worrying about where they land. 

He settles his shoulders under the back of your thighs and makes a path of open mouth kisses from your knee to your inner thigh, stopping right before your sex and inhaling deeply as he sucks a bruise into your skin, your face heats up and your hips shake in excitement. 

“You smell fucking delicious, sweetheart.” he looks up at you with soft doe eyes that completely contradict his filthy words. He lingers just a whisper away from where you want him and you roll your hips to meet his lips. He smirks again at your frustration moving his lips to your other knee to make a wet path up your other leg with his mouth, seeing how long he can push you. Stopping midthigh to speak again into your skin. 

“I wanna take my time with you sweets. Greedy little girls don’t get to cum on my tongue.” His eyes darken when they look up at you, his words sending electricity through your nerves and arousal dripping onto his sheets.

You opt for silently nodding as the only thing you could muster at the moment is a whine that you want to keep at bay. 

“Are you gonna take what I give you, sweetheart?” He says rubbing circles into your hip.

“Yes, Sir.” You breathe trying your best not to roll your hips into his touch and get scolded again. 

“Good girl.” He smiles at your compliance and finally gives you what you want.

He licks a long flat stripe up your slit, collecting your arousal on his tongue and swirling it around your throbbing clit. Your thighs tighten around his head and he groans against you. 

“Taste even sweeter than I imagined.” He all but moans into your folds. He swears he could get off just like this, with his tongue buried in your cunt and his hips rocking his cock into his mattress. 

You reach down and tangle your fingers in his hair, trying to pull him impossibly closer to you. He obliges you and wraps his lips around your clit sucking harshly, crude slurping noises filling the room but both of you are too lost in the sensation to care. Your hips start rocking against his mouth again, this time your body fully taking a mind of its own, your climax being the only thing you can think about. 

“That’s my good girl, use my tongue to get off.” You moan louder at his words and speed up your movements, balling his hair into fists. As he looks up at you with lidded eyes, he gets lost, lost in your taste, lost in the way your sweaty chest heaves with your heavy breaths, lost in the way his name falls from your lips with your eyes screwed shut.

“I’m s-so fucking close!” your voice comes out in a strained moan cracking at the end of your sentence. 

“Cum for me beautiful, wanna taste your cum.” He says wrapping his lips around your clit again to pull your orgasm from you. He may have called you greedy, but he couldn’t get enough of the way your thighs shook around him. 

“Holy shit! Jungkook!” your orgasm hits you like a wave starting in your stomach and sending fire through your veins. Your hips stutter and Jungkook licks you languidly through your high. All the while your mouth mutters his name in an incoherent mantra. 

He wipes his mouth on the back of his hand and climbs over you leaning on his forearms, and captures your lips in his. You taste yourself on them and smile against his mouth.

“You look so beautiful when you cum.” He says placing soft kisses along your jaw. And you’re glad he can’t see the way your cheeks flare at his comment. “Think you can still take my cock?” he says squeezing himself at the base through his pants. 

“God yes.” You say perhaps a little too enthusiastically and he chuckles at you. 

“You really are a greedy one, aren’t you sweetheart?” He says teasingly. “Let me get you ready first.” He says rubbing his thumb in small circles on your clit, your sensitivity makes you jump a little.

He looks down to watch the way your velvet walls swallow his fingers, but he stops his movement, realizing his hands are still covered in paint. 

“Shit.” He mutters almost silently. “I’ll be right back.” He says with a smile pecking your lips before he slips out his door. Closing it behind him just in case, as not to let Hobi unknowingly come home early only to find you spread eagle on his roommates bed. 

What the hell is he doing? Your eyebrows furrow, worried he’s gonna get some sort of convoluted sex toy. Which while you wouldn’t normally object, that’s a tad presumptuous on his part. 

Your mental ramble cut short and worries put to rest when he reenters the room with clean hands. He strips his sweats from his hips and climbs back over you.

“Sorry, I didn’t want you to get some sort of paint-chemical related rash on your… lady bits.” He says hesitantly breathing out a laugh against your cheek.

“While that’s incredibly considerate of you. That sentence didn’t do much for my ‘lady bits’.” you know what his venom filled tongue is capable of, so his childish use of words makes you giggle. 

He rolls his eyes at you and cups your face, pulling you in for another deep kiss. His hand snakes down between your legs and when his thumb connects with your clit you squeak and break the kiss.

“Your hands are freezing.” you say with more of a pout than you’re willing to admit. You presume he didn’t wanna make you wait too long so he washed his hands in cold water. 

“Why don’t you warm them up for me?” he quirks a brow and smirks. Bringing his hand up to your mouth and sticking his middle and ring finger between your lips. You happily wrap your lips around his digits; licking, sucking, and humming in content around them.

Jungkook’s cock twitches in his boxers as he watches your cheeks hollow slightly around his slender fingers, resisting from pushing them deeper in your mouth and seeing how pretty you look when you gag for him. 

He removes his hand from your mouth, marveling at the string of saliva that follows it. He reaches down to tease your entrance letting your spit and arousal get you ready for his stretch. He slips his fingers into your dripping core and has to hold back from moaning at how well you hug him. 

“Your pussy is so tight, sweetheart.” He breathes. “Your sweet cunt is gonna squeeze me real well won’t it?” He says catching your bottom lip between his teeth. You can’t help but clench around his fingers. “That’s my good girl.” He says, his eyes darkening and he curls into your sweet spot, you moan at how quickly he seems to be learning your body. Like he could figure out exactly what makes you tick if you stayed in his bed for just a while longer.

He removes his fingers making you whimper. He slips his boxers down a little and uses your arousal and his precum to wet his dick. Your mouth waters and you clench around nothing at how beautiful he looks slowly pumping himself with furrowed brows, until now he’s done a good job of not showing how badly his body demands to be touched just as much as yours does. 

He lines himself with your entrance and teases your clit with the tip of his cock, fighting the urge to slam himself into you to the hilt. 

“Do you want me to grab a condom?” he says mere millimeters away from slipping into you. 

“I’m on the pill.” you reassure and gasp at how close he is to giving you everything you wanted since he crashed his lips into yours at the easel. Or possibly before that.

That’s all he needed to hear before he pushed his cock past your entrance and into your wet pussy, the stretch he’s giving you making you thank him silently for insisting on warming you up first. 

“Fuck.” You both moan at how well you squeeze around him. He goes slow, inching in to give you time to adjust. You wrap your legs around his waist to encourage him deeper. He continues his slow pace breathing hot and thick against your neck. 

He sits up to watch how he disappears inside you. “Look how well you take my cock, sweetheart.” He says picking up some speed in his thrusts. You moan at how well he hits every spot in you that’s been left untouched tonight, his dirty words only further building the pressure in your pelvis. 

His thrusts become harder and you reach up you brace yourself on his biceps, his muscles flexing while he supports his weight above you. He angles his hips up slightly hitting your sweet spot perfectly, and you nearly yelp at the sensation, digging your nails into his arms making him hiss.

“Right there? Is that how your little pussy likes it?” He feigns a subtle innocence in his voice. Like he can’t see with his own eyes how well he’s fucking you.

“Yes, fuck! Please don’t stop.” you beg, mostly to get him to do just that, but also because of the sweaty fog his delicious cock has worked into your mind isn’t exactly allowing you to form the most intelligent of sentences.

He sits back on his knees and pushes one of your legs to your chest, his dick hitting deeper than you thought possible making your eyes roll back and your jaw slack. Your moans become uncontrollable and the words you’re attempting to say just come out in broken sounds.

“Such a good slut for me, look at you falling apart on my cock.” his voice almost a growl. “You gonna cum soon, sweetheart?” He says with a voice like silk to mask how close he is himself.

You can’t do more than nod fractically at his words in fear your voice will betray you. He rubs your clit with his thumb to earn your second climax from you.

And you do, your walls tighten around his cock but his pace doesn’t falter. Your legs shake and your eyes roll back. You cover your mouth to muffle a scream. Your orgasm ripping through you so hard you feel like you might burst. 

Jungkook hisses at how hard you’re squeezing him and fucks you through your high. He reaches to his headboard to fuck into you harder, being selfish for the first time tonight, using you to chase his own high.

“Where do you want it?” He says in a stifled whine.

“Cum inside Jungkook. I want you to fill me up.” You say pressing your nails into his chest. The overstimulation you feel in your core is worth every thrust when he finally lets go and fills you with his cum. His cock twitching as he slowly rides out his climax. 

He collapses on top of you, breathing heavily into your neck. Then rolls over to the other side of the bed, to allow both of you some cool air on your skin. 

“I hope I didn’t go too hard at the end there, are you okay?” He looks over at you with worried eyes.

“No. No it’s okay, I liked it.” you smile, your lungs and heart rate working hard to steady themselves.

After he’s caught his breath a little he reaches into his bedside table to get a small rag to wipe up some of his cum leaking out of you, and you suddenly feel very vulnerable at his thoughtful gesture. 

The post sex clarity hitting your mind, not quite in the way you hoped. As you lay there the height of what you two just did sending your mind go into overdrive.

Oh fuck. You run through the events of the night starting to panic a little. He’s my friend, how did this even happen? I wasn’t gonna do this. I wasn’t gonna let this get more complicated than my attraction to him already was. Shit, I’m an idiot. I mean he did kiss me, but… I can’t let this happen again. I don’t want this to end badly and have to move just because I think with my idiot vagina. It makes things too complicated. Okay, I have to end whatever that was now before things get even more complicated. He won’t mind right? He’s a college dude, he’s probably fine with just hittin’ it and quittin’ it. Yeah, everything is good. Friends can fuck once and then be good, it happens all the time. 

You sit up from his bed and run your hands through your hair a couple times in an attempt to tame it and start to pick up your clothes. 

“Are you okay?” He says, watching you as you attempt to find your underwear.

“Yeah, I’m good, just have an early class in the morning and I should probably get going.” you force a smile. 

“Oh, uh okay.” He says not quite convinced. Though you weren’t lying about that, you really did have a class in about seven hours.

“Hey um,” you hesitate, sliding your pants on just choosing to abandon your underwear. “This was just a one time thing, right?” you ask him, hating the way you said that. 

He senses your tone and feels a little twinge in his chest, but he ignores it, putting on a smile instead. “Yeah, definitely. Why do you ask?” 

“Okay, good.” Another twinge. “I just don’t want things to be too complicated, with us being neighbors and all…” You trail off, trying not to cringe at yourself. 

“Yeah, that makes sense.” He pauses, realizing for the first time that this could have negative consequences. “No worries, it’s forgotten. Just friends.” He reassures pulling his pants on.

“Just friends.” You smile and extend your hand to him. You shake on it. 

You pull your shirt over your head. 

“See you later, neighbor.” You say attempting to bring back the way things were just an hour ago. And you slip out his door.

He doesn’t walk you home like he normally does, and honestly you’re thankful. You just want to be back in your apartment where you can pretend that didn’t just happen. Even if that was one of the best fucks you've ever had, you're certainly not going to think about it. What is there to think about? Nothing happened.

You slip out his door, and into yours, met with Jimin munching in your kitchen, presumably after a party and your feet halt in their tracks. 

“Damn babe, you look positively wrecked.” He says with a knowing smirk.

“Jimin, I am so not in the mood for whatever you’re about to say.” you say exasperated.

“Oh, so I should save the ‘I told you so’? Would you rather get it in the morning?” He asks innocently, though he’s anything but.

“Preferably never.” You quip and slip into your bedroom.

Yeah, never is good, we’re just gonna pretend none of that happened.

-----------------------------

Taglist: @taezeus​ @spoopysoph​ @gucci-prince-tae​ @jiminiesthiccthighs​ @veryuniquenamegoeshere​ @hermiones-enchantment​ @irissilujm​ @flo-music​ @scalbra​ @sugarrimajins​ @embrace-themagic​ @megsmiiiii​ @nerdycookiemonster-1222​ @livorna​ 

[suitofvibraniumarmor]

If You Just Realize

Part Thirteen: Keep It Together

Summary: More changes come for Sebastian and his girls.  Pairing: Sebastian Stan x Reader Word Count: 2405 Series Warnings: Death, angst, sadness. Lots of creative licensing, I’m sure. Chapter Warnings: Implied smut, child custody issues.   Square Filled: This entire series will fill my realized feelings square for @marvelfluffbingo. A/N: I’ve much enjoyed writing this series, and I hope all of you enjoy reading it! The tag list is open; requests to be added can be done so here. There are bits and pieces of Romanian throughout the series, mostly from Google Translate and the few things I’ve picked up as I learn the language.

Also, I don’t know why I’ve never mentioned it before, but a huge song inspiration for the title of this fic (and some chapter titles) is Realize by Colbie Caillat.

Series Masterlist

The car ride to the Hills’ house was tense; with an important, unfinished conversation behind them and another unknown in front of them, both Sebastian and Y/N were on the defensive. So much had happened in such a short time, they both felt as though it was only a matter of who would break first. 

“That car wasn’t here when we dropped her off,” Y/N noted, getting out of the car. She met Sebastian at the front and held tight to his hand — more for her own comfort, she had to admit, than for his. 

He said nothing, only walked with her up to the front door and rang the bell. Alice was there before the chimes finished, concern etched into her features. 

“I didn’t know,” was the first thing she said, welcoming them in, but no further than the foyer. “I’m so sorry — Conor stopped by unexpectedly. Tim tried to just visit with him here on the porch, but his thinking still isn’t so quick and when Conor asked what I was doing …”

“And Conor wanted to see her,” Sebastian surmised. “Is he with her now?”

Alice nodded. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t know how to tell him no without upsetting the whole situation and Tim and Milena.”

“It’s not your fault — what else were you supposed to do?” Sebastian squeezed her shoulder. “Where are they now?”

“In the den, watching cartoons.”

Sebastian dropped Y/N’s hand and stalked towards the den. She and Alice were hot on his heels though, concern and fear racing through them at the stern set of Sebastian’s jaw and the dark shade of blue his eyes had taken on. 

In the den, Milena was curled up in Tim’s lap, watching cartoons. She was stealing glances at Conor, as though waiting for him to make any kind of sudden movement. Sebastian stopped at the entryway and took a deep breath to calm his demeanor before Milena saw him. 

“Hey, munchkin,” he greeted with a smile. “Ready to go home?”

Y/N breathed a momentary sigh of relief when she reached Sebastian’s side and saw the smile on his face; even if it was only for Milena’s benefit, it eased her nerves, too. 

“Uncle Seb!” Milena exclaimed, scrambling down from Tim’s lap and racing toward her uncle. She wrapped her arms around his legs and looked up at Y/N. “We going home now?”

Y/N picked her up and nodded. “Yes, princess, we’re going home. Where are your shoes?”

“I have them in my room,” Alice answered. “Come on, Milena, let’s show Y/N where they are.”

The women left the room, and only then did Conor rise from the couch to shake hands with Sebastian. The latter man returned to his closed off, cold expression. 

“I’ll leave you gentlemen to talk,” Tim excused himself. Conor helped his dad up from the chair, and then Tim was out of the room, leaning on the walker for support. 

Sebastian kept his eyes on Conor the whole time. “You cannot be around her. If I have to have that put in the court papers too, I will. I know you’ve hit some low points, but putting your parents in this situation? Especially after everything they’ve been dealing with since your dad’s stroke?”

“She’s my daughter,” Conor returned. 

“Not according to the papers you signed saying you didn’t want her,” Sebastian reminded. “She’s ours. Y/N and I will raise her, my parents and your parents will help and will see her as often as they’d like. You will never be a part of that.”

Sebastian turned to go, but Conor grabbed for his arm. Sebastian turned back, looked down at the grip on his arm, then back at Conor. That man put his hands up in surrender and took a step back. 

“I’m sorry, but this conversation isn’t over,” Conor explained. “I was wrong to sign my rights away. I’ve seen her grow up through pictures up until now, but Irina would never hear of anything different.”

“And why should she have?” Sebastian countered. “You didn’t want Milena! You made that clear months before she was even born.  I was there. My parents, your parents were there. My wife has been there more for Milena since Irina died than you have in her entire life. Where have you been when she cries for Irina? Where have you been when her tummy aches for no reason at all? Where have you been when she’s crying and screaming for hours at night? Nowhere. You haven’t been around at all. Now you see her for the first time in her life and you think you want things to change? You have no idea who Milena is, what her needs are.” He shook his head. “You can say whatever you want, man, but I’m not going to up-end her world any more than what’s already been done out of my control.”

Conor set his jaw. “We’ll see what the courts have to say about that.”

Sebastian snorted. “Yeah, go ahead and get the courts involved. You’re not going to win. Milena is ours, Conor. She will never be yours.”

With that, Sebastian picked up Milena’s jacket from the back of the couch and went in search of his wife and niece. 

“How many days till my bir’day?” 

Sebastian smiled and mentally counted the days. “Let’s see, we just finished Halloween, you birthday is the first day of December … about twenty-seven.”

“That’s so many,” Milena whined. 

Y/N smiled from the counter where she was kneading bread dough. Sebastian and Milena were ‘helping’ from the other side of the island — which really meant Milena was playing with Play-Doh and Sebastian was supervising to see that none of the play stuff got in with the actual dough. 

“It’ll be here before you know it,” Y/N assured, measuring out some cinnamon and sugar to fold into the dough. “What kind of party should we have? Oh, let me guess — princesses!”

But Milena wrinkled her nose and shook her head. “No! I want puppies!”

The adults laughed at the squeal of excitement that followed the mention of puppies. A shared glance when Milena went back to her Play-Doh told Y/N that Sebastian was thinking exactly the same as she was: it was time to talk about getting a pet in the house. 

“I mean, we have all this land,” Sebastian began after putting Milena down for an afternoon nap, “seems silly not to have some little creature running around to keep Milena busy.”

“Little creature,” Y/N chuckled, setting the timer for the bread to bake. “Well, we can start looking, but if we want it for her birthday, we shouldn’t look for too long. I’ll get with your mom and Alice and see what we can all put together. Not that you and Tim wouldn’t wanna help but …”

“But it’s probably better we don’t,” he laughed. “I get it.”

She flashed him a winning smile before going to the sink to work on the dishes and Sebastian’s heart beat faster. Since the day Conor had shown up, they hadn’t resumed their conversation, having agreed there was too much going on at the moment to deal with anything else. Milena needed stability and calm, and they couldn’t offer that to her with Conor’s legal threats, the night terrors, and grieving her mother already on their plates. 

Today, however, he couldn’t seem to stop himself. The house was warm and smelled of autumn, thanks to the candles Y/N had lit throughout the place. With his two girls there in good spirits, he finally felt like the place was home. She was singing along softly to the music playing from her phone as she rinsed out the dishes and loaded the washer. Her oversized sweatshirt — one he was sure had actually come from his collection — with the sleeves rolled up and her form-fitting cotton leggings had his eye all day as possibly the most adorable outfit he had ever seen her wear. It seemed a shame that he hadn’t kissed her in so many days. 

She drew in a sharp breath when his hands landed on her shoulders, then giggled when she realized he was behind her. His lips pressed to the top of her head; she leaned back into him. 

“You smell extra good today,” she told him softly. 

Sebastian smiled. “I’m glad you think so. I know we have a lot of things unfinished and undecided between us, Y/N/N, but today feels so much like home. You are home to me. You’ll have to forgive me if I needed to be a little closer to you for it.”

Turning in his arms, Y/N shook her head. “Nothing to forgive.”

He smiled and dipped his head down to kiss her. Shivers raced over his spine when her hands, chilly from rinsing dishes, brushed over the back of his neck. She responded to his kiss eagerly, making Sebastian wish he had pushed closer to her sooner. As the kiss continued, he lifted her onto the counter and pushed between her legs so that he could be as close to her as possible. 

“I suppose,” Y/N told him between kisses, “there is one piece of unfinished business we could get on with — at least one.”

Sebastian raised a brow. “At least one?”

She nodded then returned to their kiss. Sebastian picked her up and carried her bridal style to their bedroom. He was sure of one thing they could finish, but what else was there? It had him slightly distracted as he moved over her on the bed. His kisses softened as he settled on top of her, balancing his weight on his elbows. 

“You’re sure about this? There’s more discussion for us to have, you know,” Sebastian reminded her in almost a whisper. 

Y/N drew in a deep breath and caressed his face. “I love you, Sebastian. I want this life with you. Do you think you want this life with me?”

“No,” he answered, pushing her hair away from her face, “I know that I want this life with you. I love you, Bright Eyes.”

Her grin was as big as he had ever seen it. He leaned to kiss her again, his hand going under that oversized sweatshirt, his heart reveling in the certainty of their love for one another. 

The blow came a few days later. Philip called so early in the morning, Milena was still asleep, and Y/N and Sebastian were only awake because she had a flight to Los Angeles for a talk show interview the next day. 

“I almost forgot in all of this that I am actually an actress,” she chuckled over her coffee. 

Sebastian smiled back at her, his heart not yet ready to let her be across the country, even it was only for a quick trip. “Too bad we can’t stay inside our cozy little bubble here.”

“Mmm, agreed.”

The phone rang then; Sebastian frowned at Philip’s name on the caller ID at that hour. He slid his thumb across the screen and answered with measured concern in his voice. 

“You’re on speaker, Y/N is here with me,” he added, pressing the appropriate option on the screen. 

“Good morning,” Philip sighed, “and also my apologies for starting your day this way. I don’t know how he managed it, but Conor has gotten a judge to rule for him to a mandated week with Milena in his care, to see how things go.”

“He can’t do that! He signed his rights away!” Y/N exclaimed. Tears immediately filled her eyes. 

Philip sighed. “I know that, but this is complex situation. He’s her biological parent, her mother has passed away. I’ve never dealt with this judge before, but apparently she’s got a soft spot for fathers who are doing their best to be fathers.”

Y/N opened her mouth again, but Sebastian stopped her. “What does this mean?”

“Child and Family Services will be coming to get her later this morning. Pack her enough for a couple of days, but Conor has been told he needs to provide for her during this week, as well. Apparently he’s got a live-in girlfriend who he’s been with for a while, and she’ll be there to help him.” 

Sebastian was near speechless. “We can’t fight this?”

“It all happened really quickly — I wasn’t even notified until it was on paper and signed off, or bet your ass I would have fought it. I know before I said we wouldn’t need it, but it would have been much better at this point to have Irina’s wishes on paper.” He paused for a moment. “I’m sorry, I know that’s not helpful. The best I can tell you right now is prepare Milena for what’s going to happen. Tell her it isn’t permanent as far as you know, tell her that you’re going to bring her back home just as soon as you can, but also don’t speak poorly of Conor. After a week, CFS will bring her back to you.”

“I’ve got to cancel my flight,” Y/N said, already on her own phone to call her assistant. Sebastian gently took the device from her, motioning for her to wait. 

“All right, Phil, thanks for letting us know. If anything else comes up — just let us know what we can do to keep her.”

Philip promised that he would, then the men disconnected the call. Sebastian turned to Y/N. 

“I don’t want you canceling that interview,” he told her. “As much as I know you want to be here, I’m not ready for the media to get a hold of this. As soon as you cancel something, they’re going to start speculating and digging. I can’t have that, not yet. You can’t help here, anyway.”

She sniffled. “But I want to be here for you.”

“I know, and I do want you here with me, but to protect ourselves and our privacy for right now, we’re going to have to support each other from a distance for a couple of days.” He kissed her head. “Besides, if they go to Conor, I get the feeling the pseudo-fame will only fuel his purpose.”

Y/N stood to wrap her arms around his neck. Sebastian held her just as tight, praying as they held each other that the little family they were working so hard to stabilized wouldn’t be permanently torn apart by this development. 

AllOfTheThings: @captain-s-rogers @star-spangled-man-with-a-plan @letsgetfuckingsuperwholocked @hurricanerin @horsesandbandsforlife @im-not-an-armrest-im-short @shynara51 @sea040561 @pinknerdpanda @xtina2191 @jackryanplz @beakami @heartsaved @fullprunerebelstatesman @blackwidowismyhomegirl @averyrogers83 @jennmurawski13 @connie326

IYJR: @elsatxx @tanelle83 @amanda-teaches @etherealwaifgoddess @kmuir1 @ntlmundy @jayankles @rebekahdawkins @denise1605 @rhadigen @peace-love-hobbitness @itsallyscorner @mizzzpink @auspiciousharriet @the-murder-strut-murdered-me @learisa @tellmewhatyouwill @katherinereid @lokilokilokilokilokiloki @auriandthepussicats @tellmewhatyouwill @itsmycorneroftheinternet @andreagf956​ @voltage-my2dlove​

[shadow--writer]

Please Don't go Walking Out That Door

(title) After a heavy depressive episode with writing I have returned! \o/ (fuck u helen). Are we gonna mention my word count? Absolutely not. 

Maeve x Lucas. Late nights, bloody days. 4.1k (don’t fuckin look at me)

TW (most of these are squicks): injuries, blood, scars, non sexual upper body nudity (briefly) 

@dela-png

The night stretched on and she felt woozy. 

Sometimes she wondered why she didn’t get help and why she was running this shitshow by herself. At least with extra hands she wouldn’t have to deal with her regulars alone.

The bell rang into the silence, she pressed a hand to her forehead. 

Oh great.

“T-Thumbelina?”

Her head snapped up at the voice.

It was Lucas. 

And he was carrying an injured woman. 

Maeve could just barely see the knife sticking out of her back, and the blood leaking down. The woman was slurring her words, squeezing her eyes shut. 

Maeve rubbed her temples, walking over to the two of them. Her heels clicked on the worn hardwood with her steps. She shut the clinic’s door behind them, closing the blinds around the windows. 

“Good Goddess above, do you get everyone into trouble?” she muttered, taking the injured side arm of the woman. They shifted her to one of the nearest tables. She was complaining the entire time, shaking her arm to get it out of Maeve’s grip.

“Well...no. This one was all her fault.”

“And I can fucking take care of it myself,” she said as Maeve and Lucas shifted her up onto the table. Well those words sounded vaguely familiar. 

“Her fault hm? Let me guess, picked a fight and didn’t realize they were sleazy?”

“...you got it.”

She chuckled, pulling her hair up. “Oh I’ve been there.” She yanked the ribbon closed around her hair, looking at the woman on her clinic table. 

“I need to take your shirt off so I can get a good look at your wounds,” she said, shifting over to look for her pain medicines and needles. A knife in the back could hit a multitude of organs. Stomach, kidney, pancreas, an intestine. 

Sometimes you learn things from experience as well as being taught. 

Lucas looked at the woman as Maeve sterilized her scalpel. “Hey Amani, she’s gonna help you.”

Amani bit at his hand. He shifted away from her, muttering something in a bitter tone. 

“I’m fine! I can fix myself up!” Her voice was a snarl.

Something about the notion of taking her shirt off was bothering her.

Maeve guessed it had to do with something on her back. 

Like a scar.

She set her tools down on the table with a light thump. She was tired and could feel a headache coming on. 

“If I show you the scars on my back, will you let me help you before you bleed out?” She rubbed her temples. 

“I can fix myself.” There was an edge and some very creative swears following it as Maeve tapped the knife. 

“A healing spell isn’t going to do much unless you have very flexible bones and can reach around your back to give yourself stitches. It’ll work wonders for some damage, but can you fix internal? What about stop the bleeding?”

The woman turned away. 

“Amani please. I can’t help you,” Lucas whispered. “I’m useless.”

“You’re aren’t useless,” Amani muttered. “A fucking dumbass for bringing me here instead of helping me home, but not useless.”

“Sorry to say most of my medicine and herbs are locked up as well,” Maeve said, looking at the knife. She would need to get the woman’s shirt off her back to see the wound. 

But maybe not take it of all the way...it was already torn up...and if she didn’t mind the loss Maeve would only need to tear it further instead of taking it off entirely. “You won’t be getting anything.”

She bent over to be eye to eye with Amani. “So you’re stuck with me helping you.”

“Sorry short stack, but the shirt stays on.”

“I will only need to tear it to see the wound.”

“On.”

Maeve huffed. “I will show you my back if you let me tear your shirt. But this is a timed offer as I do not want you to bleed out on me. Do you know how messy that would be? A pain to clean!”

Amani turned to look over at Lucas. He slapped a hand to his forehead. “So this is the Thumbelina you’ve been raving about? She’s a total bitch!”

She flicked her scalpel. “A bitch with a sharp object. Pick your battles wisely.” Her eyes darted down to the knife in Amani’s back. “If you can be wise at all.”

“Maeve!” Lucas wheezed. 

Amani snorted. “Fiery.”

Maeve stood upright, resting a hand on her hip as she sighed. “I’m used to dealing with people like you. Now, the shirt is going to come off one way or another. Question is; do you want me to knock you out or are you going to comply?”

Amani mouthed the word ‘bitch’ at Lucas. He shot her a glare. “Amani, I love you, but please.”

“Yeah yeah. And you still brought me to the bitchy mean doctor.”

“For a knife lodged in your back!”

“That I can take care of!”

“It’s in your back!”

Amani huffed, turning back to Maeve. “So, if you help me, you’ll leave me alone? The both of you?”

“If you don’t decide to bite me first, yes. You’ll have to stay a little bit when the pain meds kick in since depending on the wound, they can be pretty powerful.”

Amani sighed. “Ugh.”

“This is no fun for me either.”

“So...you’ll show me your scars first, right?”

“We are on a time limit.”

“Your back first.”

She threw her hands in the air, Lucas backing away from the hand holding the scalpel. “Fine! Fine!” She set the scalpel down. “We are on a tight schedule but fine!”

She turned to Lucas, the heels of her shoes the only sound for a moment. “Help me with my dress please,” she said, moving her hair off one shoulder to reveal the laces down her back. 

“You want me to what?”

She huffed, frustrated with the two of them. Her headache throbbed between her eyes. She wanted to rub her temples again. “Just...unlace me.”

“But-”

“Do you want her to bleed out?”

He shook his head, hands trembling a little as he untied the bow just under the collar of her dress. His touch was soft against her skin, moving quickly with the time crunch. 

Even so, she couldn’t deny the hitch in her breath as he brushed her skin. 

He grazed a jagged scar between her shoulder blades as he finished unlacing her. 

“So what are you…”

“Showing her my scars as I’ve promised. Then I’ll pull that knife out and hopefully she’ll still be alive in time for me to give her stitches. But of course, she insists on this.”

Maeve rubbed her eyes, walking back to the woman on the table. She watched Lucas with an almost...amused glint in her eye. 

Maeve shrugged the dress off her shoulders. 

“Whoa hold on-”

She shot a glare at Lucas. Apparently even he caught on to the scene before him. “Oh relax, it’ll be quick. And I’m wearing something under this.”

“But…”

“Lucas, we don’t have time to ‘preserve my modesty.’ You may look away if you wish, but this sort of thing is nothing new to me. If she wants to see my scars to be more comfortable with me seeing hers, fine.”

“But you’re-”

“You are abnormally stubborn for someone in your position. It isn’t hard to catch on. If you do not wish to see me undress ever so slightly, then you may look away. But please remember she is bleeding out on my clinic table with a knife in her back. I do not believe we have the kind of time to discuss this.”

“Lucas just admit you like what you see and move on!” Amani called. 

Maeve shot her a withering glare. “And you, you have no place to talk! Making me jump through hoops to take a knife out of your back.”

She held the bodice of her dress to her chest as she looked at Amani. “And here are my scars, are you happy?”

Amani stared at the mess of flesh on Maeve’s back. She knew it was a mess of old wounds. From axes. Arrows. Some burn scars. Bite marks. Knife and sword wounds. She was glad she was related to one of the best healers on her island. 

“Damn.”

“Are we good now? Can I just tear your shirt a little to get the knife out?” Maeve huffed, pushing her dress back over her shoulders. She didn’t have time to lace it so she’d have to make due with showing a little bit of skin. 

All she needed to do was just...heal, stitches, medicine, rest. Then she could get them out of her hair and pass out for a million moon cycles. 

“You can tear it a little…” Amani muttered. 

Maeve let out a tired sigh, picking up her scalpel and needles (with sutures already tied neatly, she anticipated someone coming in. But not this).

She tore Amani’s shirt, revealing a bit of marred skin. Gold paint was flaking off and onto the table. Amani twitched under her as she looked at the skin puckering around the knife. 

“Fucking hell doc, your hands are so cold.”

“Oh yeah I know. Would you rather Giant manhandle you?”

“Gods he’d crush me!” “Hey!”

Maeve chuckled, giving the knife a good tug. Amani spewed curses as Maeve muttered something to herself. It was lodged in there pretty good. She suspected it hit an organ as well. She’d have to be quick with healing and stopping the blood. 

“Well Miss. Amani, you might have another scar to add to your collection,” Maeve said, cleaning her hands on her apron. “And I do warn you, this might hurt a little.”

“Do your worst.”

“Oh I will.”

“Wait-”

She pulled on the knife. It came out with a spurt of blood. She was right about the organ thing, but thankfully it was only the small intestine. Any higher might’ve been stomach or even a lung. 

Healing spells didn’t work with organs surrounded by bone. 

Amani screamed, swearing in another language. 

Maeve tossed the knife to the side, pressing her apron (her poor apron) to the wound. “Calma síos, ba é sin an chuid éasca,” she muttered, her native language a comfort to her. She breathed through her nose, gearing up for the healing spell. 

There was a spark in her palms

And it faded. 

Cursing, she fought for it back, but each attempt fell flat. 

“Thumbelina?” Lucas asked. 

“I don’t have enough fucking energy for this fucking goddamn spell. Shit.”

“Hey! Watch your fucking language in front of a patient!” Amani said.

“I shall do no such thing you fucking nitwit!” Maeve huffed, sweat dripping from her brow. Her hands were stained red. 

“Can you...draw on energy from someone else?” Lucas asked. 

“I could in theory, but I don’t know what it would do to the other person.”

“Could you use me?”

She turned to look at him, her dress fell off of one shoulder. “Could I what?”

“Use me. My energy.”

“He does have a lot of that- OW!” Maeve pressed the wound a little roughly to shut Amani up.

“I don’t know what it would do.”

“I know you can help.”

“Ugh,” Amani moaned. “Stop flirting and help me.”

“We aren’t flirting,” Maeve said firmly. “Lucas come here.”

He shuffled forward. 

“Touch me.”

“Huh?”

“God- just...touch my back.”

He jolted, placing a hand on her bare skin. She sucked in a breath, his hand splayed along her scars. His hand was almost as big as her back was. 

“N-Now,” she breathed. “Visualize.”

“Like what I do to channel my magic?”

He had magic? She wasn’t surprised he had it but surprised he’d use it. 

Nonetheless it lent well. 

“Yes. But channel it into me.”

“Are you sure...it gets kind of...powerful.”

“Just...do it. Giant, she is bleeding out as we speak.”

“Yeah! Help me, then flirt- HEY! Stop that!” 

She pressed the wound again. “Save your breath, you will need it.”

Amani muttered something under said breath as Maeve counted down. 

She was hit with a surge. She gritted her teeth, her hands going numb with the amount of energy. 

Holy fuck. 

“I cannot believe this is just...your magic,” she muttered as Amani writhed under her. Lucas was jumpy, flinching every time Amani slurred out a curse. 

“I’m knitting the wound back together. It hurts like a son of a bitch, but I always stop before they black out. Not healthy to keep going otherwise.”

“Why does it hurt so much?” he asked, his breaths coming out in slight heaves. 

“All magic has its price and drawbacks.” 

She pulled back with a gasp. Lucas leaned against her. Amani stopped squirming. 

“That fucking hurt,” she gasped. 

“Well yeah. You got stabbed in the small intestine. And we still have stitches!” She massaged her temples. She smeared blood along her skin. Mm she’d have to bathe as well. Great.

“You okay there Thumbelina?”

“Mm fine. Just tired. Like you. I’ll be okay. Just gotta fix her up and get you guys some water.” Ugh she was woozy again. Her dress kept slipping down. She kept pushing it up. He watched her.

“You have tattoos on your back.”

“...I do indeed.”

“They’re lovely.”

She stiffened. “T-Thank you.” Amani rolled her eyes. His hand brushed one of her scars, making  her let out a tiny squeak.

“What’s this from?”

“A...brawl with my family.”

“A brawl?” 

“Mmhmm. Hate to brag, but I won. I’m a bit of a feral fighter. I’m sure I can beat you.”

She started Amani’s stitches. Her bodice slipped down her arms. She cursed, pushing it back up. 

“I’d like to see you try and beat me,” he said with a chuckle, holding her dress up and slowly lacing up the back. She went rigid at his touch. His hands were so much warmer than she expected. 

She calmed her erratic breathing, focusing on her needlework. Amani was blessedly silent. 

“I could and I would,” she said, tugging the wound closed.

“I’m like four times your size.”

“Yes but I’m fast. And I have military training. I don’t think you’ve ever seen me in action before.”

“Well no...but neither have you.”

“Ugh can you stop flirting!”

And then the silence was ended. 

“It isn’t flirting, only a conversation while I help stitch you up.”

“Yeah but his hands are all over you.” His hands froze. 

“He’s pulling up my dress.” She knotted the thread, snipping it with scissors she kept nearby. “A mer conversation about me whooping his ass is not flirting.”

“You whooping my ass?” he asked. 

“Now this is flirting.” She turned to look at him. “I would, but I must say, it is a nice ass.”

He opened his mouth, closed it, opened it again, and then closed it.

He looked like a fish. 

She giggled, turning back to Amani. She changed the conversation to ignore the heat in the tips of her ears. Even brazen flirting didn’t save her from the effects of the new found feelings she had for him. 

“So I have some pain meds, but they’ll knock you out pretty good if you aren’t careful. I can also fetch you a new shirt if you’d like. This one is kind of a mess.”

She helped Amani to sit up. She ran her hands down the front of her shirt. “No thanks. Rather attached to this one.”

“Of course.”

“Damn, what’s with the way she speaks?” Amani looked at Lucas. 

Like Maeve wasn’t right there.

This headache might turn into a migraine. 

“It’s so proper!”

“Well she normally speaks...differently I suppose.”

“I only get very proper when I have a headache, and the two of you are the root issue,” Maeve groused, rubbing the bridge of her nose. “It was already a long day and now an even longer night.” She always fell back into her aunt's lessons when she was sick.

That or she lost her filter.

She preferred to sound like a lady. She hurt feelings when she didn’t have what little filter on. 

“Ah so this is Maeve? She’s a treasure,” Amani snorted.

Maeve cracked an eye open. “Well a warning about you would’ve been nice as well.”

“He never mentioned me?” She looked at Lucas, jutting a finger at him. “You whore!” 

“Amani!”

Maeve threw her hands into the air. “I’m going to get water both for myself and the two of you knuckleheads.”

“Hey!” they yelled at the same time as she walked away. 

“What and you want to spend the night too?” she snapped, grabbing a few glasses and filling them with water from her bucket. She left bloody handprints but she couldn’t find it in her to care. “You need the water for the medicine anyways. I need it for my headache. And Lucas…”

“...we’ll just go with I’m thirsty.”

“Oh yeah you’re thirsty alright,” Amani huffed. “But not for the water.”

Lucas’ face flushed pink. “Amani!”

“Mmm I’m sure,” Maeve hummed, placing a glass in each of their hands. “And tell me, what on Earth would he be thirsty for?”

“...you know, sometimes I wonder if I can find someone as dense as Lucas and it appears that I have.”

Maeve chuckled. “Oh I’m fully aware of what your comment implies. I get enough of it from my little sister.”

...ah so that’s who Amani reminded her of. 

No wonder she wanted to strangle her. 

She just felt like her younger sister. Had the air of her. 

Gods help her if they ever meet. 

“But it’s more fun to watch him squirm.”

Amani’s eyes lit up. “Oh you. I’m starting to like you.”

“Mmm oh...wonderful,” she replied, moving over to look for the pain meds. “More people to bother me.”

“I thought you liked me!” Lucas protested, making her crack a smile. Her headache was slightly dulled by the water, but judging by how much her head throbbed not even sleep would help. 

“On occasion,” she hummed, standing on her tiptoes to try and reach her lactucarium bottle. This tasted vile, but it was effective. 

She swayed a little, being hit with a wave of dizziness. She stumbled backwards, hand coming down to rest on her forehead as she spat out curses. She most likely hadn’t been drinking water. 

...now that she thought about it she didn’t even eat either. The meal Lucas brought sat untouched in her backroom. 

He would kill her if he found that one out. 

Speaking of…

She looked up at Lucas, who had caught her. She stumbled a little, trying to worm her way out of his arms. Amani was chuckling (and then yelping at the pull on her stitches). 

“You okay there, Thumbelina?” The testing offense gone from his voice. 

“Just a dizzy spell.”

“You’ve had a lot of those.”

“This time it’s from a headache. I’ll be okay once you two go home and I can sleep.”

He didn’t crack a smile like she hoped he would. Hers fell. 

“Did you eat today?”

“Did you?” Amani called. 

“Amani this isn’t about me-”

“Don’t make me come over there.”

“...fine. I didn’t eat. Maeve?”

She chewed her lower lip as he helped her upright. He reached over her to grab the lactucarium bottle. He handed it to her as she let go of her lip. “Well, no. I haven’t had the time and it...slipped my mind.”

“...like I said, you’re tiny enough as it is.”

“Like you can talk.”

“Tell him!”

“Shut up!” they both yelled. 

All three of them stared at one another before laughing. The topic of eating all but forgotten. 

“Okay Amani, this stuff is fucking nasty as hell, but it helps. I don’t have it in pill form so we’ll make due.” She poured a little of the lactucarium onto a spoon, and held it up to Amani. 

“What you’re gonna feed it to- ACK!” She shoved the spoon in Amani’s mouth, watching her grumble and swallow the medicine. 

Amani gagged. “Oh fucking shit yuck.”

“Oh yes. And the aftertaste is worse.” She set the spoon down, untying her bloodied apron and using it to pick up her bloody tools and the knife. She watched the woman guzzle down the water she brought with a chuckle. “See?”

“Lucas you chose to be friends with a sadist,” Amani moaned, pretending to swoon. “She’s gonna kill me!”

“Keep up the dramatics and I just might.”

“I really hope this means you two are getting along.”

“Hmm I dunno. Check in tomorrow.”

Amani snorted. “So maybe she isn’t as big of a bitch as I thought.”

“That’s sweet of you.” She dumped the bloodied tools onto a tray to be cleaned later. She folded the stick apron over one arm. She had blood on her cheek. Wonderful. “But I wouldn’t say that assessment was wrong.”

“You two are the worst,” Lucas groaned. 

“Says the person who didn’t eat,” Amani replied. 

“Neither did Maeve!”

“Well I’m not close enough to her to lecture her!”

He glared at Maeve who was looking very smug. “She’s not wrong Lucas dear. You also have a harder job than I do in terms of physical labor.”

“...you had to hold down Amani.”

“Who was being a pain.”

“Hey! I am right here!”

He snorted. “Okay that is fair. Is there anything I need to do with her stitches?”

“I’d give you aloe to put over it but a certain someone.” A man named Sam. One of her...infamous regulars. “Used up the rest of my fucking aloe.”

He shifted at her tone. “...and you...?”

“Well other than chasing him out of my clinic with a bone saw due to being a pain in my ass, using up the rest of the aloe plant I had. Which was a lot. And then taking candy I save for kids? Nothing.”

“...you chased him out with a bone saw?”

“Why yes I did.” She fluffed her ponytail. “So with Amani, you should keep her in bed for a little bit while she heals. Thanks to the healing spell it shouldn’t be too long. Reopening the stitches means coming back to me though and we certainly don’t want that.”

“Uh Doc.”

“...yes?”

“I think Lucas is still hung up on the fact you chased someone out with a saw.”

“Well he’d better bring his head back down to Earth or you two will be next. Do you have aloe, or can you get any?”

“Oh yeah! I grow it.”

“Oh wonderful! Just put that on your stitches to help with your skin. Honey is a wonderful antibiotic, to keep your wound from being infected. I’d say no heavy drinking or going out for at least a few days. Four at most.”

“Four days?”

“I’m sure you’ll survive.”

“...barely.”

“Come back here in a few days and if I give you the okay, go wild.”

“No more nasty pain medicine?”

“Unless the pain gets bad, no.” She looked at Lucas, who looked like he was trying to do a difficult math problem. It made her laugh. “You should take her home to get some sleep.”

He snapped out of his stupor. “And what about you?”

“Well currently, closed.”

“You should eat something.”

“I will.”

“Good.”

“...god that was so fucking awkward. Can I go home to die in peace?”

“You aren’t dying.”

“I dunno that stuff your little fairy, as you’ve called her, might just do me in.”

She felt her cheeks warm. He talked about her? She knew Amani mentioned it before but not it was really sinking in. “Oh don’t be dramatic. It was only pain medicine.”

She helped him get Amani up off the table, the woman muttering about how she was fine and that she could walk fine. 

“Thank you, Maeve,” he whispered when they got to the door. 

“It was no trouble.”

“Sorry we came so late.”

“I’m used to it.”

“You should get some sleep for that headache.”

“I think I can handle it,” she said with a smile. “You take care of Amani now. Oh and Lucas!” He turned around. “Eat something. Please. It’s not healthy to do the amount of labor you do on an empty stomach.”

“I...okay.”

“...bootlicker,” Amani muttered. He shoved her. “Hey! I’m injured!”

“When you’re better you can’t use that and then you’ll get it,” he muttered, making Maeve smile. 

She waved them off, leaning against the clinic doorframe. 

Lucas turned around to look at her, shooting her a small and a two fingered salute. 

‘See you later, Thumbelina.’ he mouthed, making something...spark at her skin as she blushed. 

Oh no. 

[theonetheycallhannah]

The Treatment of Capt. Syverson-Chapter One: Evaluation

Pairing: Captain “Sy” Syverson x OFC (Shane Benton)

Shane Benton gets a new patient, veteran “Sy” Syverson. He’s one of the most complex cases she’s had, in more ways than one. She thinks he’s already starting to like her and what’s worse...she feels the same.

Word Count: 2.3k

Warnings: None, really, mentions of war and trauma and some hate on the Chicago Cubs, but like…it’s not MEAN! (I’m a Missouri girl, and for the purposes of this fic, Sy is a Missouri boy, and we will bleed for our sports teams. Lol!)

A/N: Inspired by this post right here, and hopefully turning into some splendid fluffy and smutty stuff for my lovely Cavillry babes all around including the two that essentially forced me into this. Lol! (I’m thinking I’ll have at least three or four more chapters.

Disclaimer: Unfortunately for me, Henry is not mine, le sigh, and all mention of him, his characters, or his precious doggy, Kal, are strictly for transformative and recreational use. I neither ask for, nor accept payment for the work I post on Tumblr or AO3.

Tags: @onlyhenrys @cavillryarchive

Let me know if you wish to be added to the list! I’m happy to do it! 

Shane was working on her morning's notes as she scarfed down her lunch. So many hand's-on patients made for a busy so called "lunch hour." Time which their boss was always reminded them was only half for their personal use, and could be taken away if census demanded. She was pretty sure it wasn't legal to make such threats, but thankfully, the secretaries usually had the therapists backs.

As she typed, she got a notification in her messenger app.

Just a head's up, your 1:30 is such a major babe I could barely look at him while I checked him in, so good luck with that.

Heather, one of her best friends in the office, had warned her, as she always did when there was a potential problem with a patient.

Oh, and his KOOS score is 27.5! Yikes! Shit, she'd seen arthritic grandparents with better scores on that test, which essentially rated your ability with the affected knee. Ideal was 100. She pulled up his chart review to see what she was getting herself into with this guy.

Tricare insurance, so, a vet. And only a year older than she was, so, recent discharge, or even active duty. She pulled up his order…shit. Traumatic tear of the anterior cruciate ligament. With damage to the medial collateral ligament as well. And a patellar dislocation. Repairs had been done, but this guy was in bad shape. He was going to be coming a while.

She replied to Heather.

Damn, that's bad. I'm looking at his order, and I'm already thinking I'm gonna want to try to keep him on my schedule if we can. And three times a week. If not with me, Jordan, if he's got openings. Can you start working on that when you have time?

Sure thing…I think you'll be glad you kept him on your caseload once you get a look at his face…and like all of him. Even on crutches, he's tall as shit!

Heather, come on. I'm a professional. I have a doctorate ffs. Lol

You also have a uterus, to the best of my knowledge, and it's about to explode. Promise.

Haha, okay. I'll be out for Prince Charming in about ten. Lemme pop a breath mint and run a brush through my hair.

Good call.

Shane did just that, but still pulled her dark hair back into her customary functional high ponytail, made sure there was no stray food on her shirt, and headed out of her treatment room for her patient.

As she walked down the hall to the waiting area to get him, she noticed a slumped and bearded figure leaning forward on a set of crutches, a KC Chiefs baseball cap slipping up off of his forehead revealing short cropped dark hair. She smiled at his repping one of her home teams, and stepped up to him, greeting him warmly, but formally.

"Mr. Syverson?"

"Ma'am." he said, as he adjusted his cap and stood immediately at attention, still relying on the crutches, but making himself as tall as possible. He really was a soldier. Despite her proximity to Fort Leonard Wood here in St. Robert, Missouri, she didn't see many military men.

"Hi, My name is Shane. I'm a physical therapist. I'm going to be working with you today."

"Oh, okay. They told me my therapists name was Shane, I figured…"

"Yeah, I get that a lot. Don't worry, I act like one of the guys. You'll hardly notice."

"I doubt that." he muttered, but she ignored it. She didn't know which would be worse. Him being a macho chauvinist who couldn't deal with a female therapist, or having a crush on her and making things weird. She'd had both. And it never ended well for her.

"Well, let's go have a chat in the treatment room."

They walked toward the room she'd just left, and when they arrived, she asked him to set on her plinth mat.

"Could you please verify your date of birth for me? Gotta make sure I got the right patient in here."

"May the 5th, 1983."

"Thanks, and the last four of your social?"

He told her, quietly, and against her will, a shiver ran up her spine at the softness the bear of a man exhibited in his voice when trying to maintain privacy. But she kept her composure.

"Excellent." she began typing her eval note, and asking him questions. He began telling the harrowing story of the mission, the mission that effectively ended his career in the military as he knew it. At lest, what he could tell her. Obviously some of it was classified, but certain details she would need to know in order to know how he it and how to treat him. She could tell he was trying to hold it together. Reliving the trauma was probably triggering to an extent. Her heart went out for the broad-chested, blue-eyed man.

"God, that's incredible. The fact that you're alive is amazing, Mr. Syverson."

"I go by Sy, ma'am. And as aware as I am of that, it's tough to feel good about it when some friends in my squad weren't so lucky." he examined the pattern on the tile floor as he rubbed the heel of his hand against the wide thigh of his injured leg. A nervous habit, she presumed. She had similar quirks.

"That must be difficult for you." she knew she was getting off-track from what she needed for her SOAP note, but after all, he was going to be on her caseload exclusively for the foreseeable future. She'd have time to flesh out the goals and basically finish the eval next visit.

"Yeah, but I know there's a lotta guys' got it worse'n me, ma'am."  

"We think that should make it better, but it never does. And if I'm calling you 'Sy,' you have to cut the ma'am business. It's Shane, even to my patients." she smiled.

"Sorry, m--sorry. Habits die hard."

"Just like John McClean." she chuckled, not expecting him to get her ridiculous movie humor. But he laughed.

"Did you just make a Die Hard reference?" he smiled, and the sunshine of it paired with the stunning blue of his eyes nearly sent her flying into the wall. Thankfully, she had something to occupy her gaze in the form of her laptop, where she tried to document on him.

"Did you just get one of my movie references? Because nobody around here appreciates that I'm a total movie nerd. I'm wasted on these people."

"Ya know, maybe you're right about feeling like I'm getting PT from a guy." he chuckled.

"I told ya!" she laughed, but tried not to let her heart sink too far.

The evaluation continued with her doing strength and range of motion measurements on his knee. "Okay, push against my hand…now resist when I push…now bring your foot back against my hand…and resist when I pull." she did this with both sides to compare relative strength. "Great job. Okay, I'm going to see how much range you have in your knee. Lay back on the table for me, please." she thought she saw a flirty glint in his eye, but again, she ignored it. She had a job to do. And it was to hold this goniometer up to his knee and see how many degrees of flexion and extension this man had in the joint while trying not to think any salacious thoughts about the thigh connected to it.

"Okay, now, listen, Sy, I know it goes against your instinct, but I'm looking for pain-free range of motion, here, so don't be a hero. Don't move it farther than you can without hurting it. And let me know if it starts to hurt when I move it."

"Yes, ma'am." he winked.

"I'll let that one slide, I guess." she giggled. She concentrated on the numbers she was getting from the big protractor, and typing them into her eval, and not the man lying before her.

"Okay, I'm gonna get the other knee now to compare for goals."

He nodded.

"Were you pretty active before this happened?" she was more or less making small talk, as she could tell by the condition of the rest of his body that he was incredibly fit.

"Yes, m--yes, I was. We had a gym on base, nothin' like what y'all have here, just some machines and a few free weights."

"No bikes or treadmills or anything?" She herself liked the elliptical, but knew it was a considered more of a girl's machine in the gym world.

"Nah, with electric being spotty where we were stationed, we sorta had to…get creative, I guess you could say, for cardio." she let it slide, apparently there was an inside joke to which she wasn't privy.

"Right, understandable. Well, here, we don't have to get that creative. I'm gonna put you on some equipment gradually, and just warm up the knee, then get to work on joint mobilization and myofascial release. But at this point in Dr. Potter's protocol, he only wants gentle stretching and weight bearing as tolerated. We can start a bit of strengthening after next week."

"So, you think I'll be back to running anytime soon?"

"We can make that a goal, Sy, because I can absolutely get you there. But you're going to have to take it slow. You've got not one, but three major injuries we have to contend with, and there is major trauma in there. But it will heal. With time and effort. And like I said, don't be a hero. The number one rule of therapy is 'if it hurts, don't do it.'"

"I'll hold you to that, m--Shane."

"You're a quick study, Sy. I think you'll be alright. Looks like Heather's put some appointments in for you already. If any of them don't work, call us, and we'll try to get them swapped. I'd like to keep you on my schedule as much as possible, but if there's a conflict in your schedule, any of our therapists will be terrific. And I'll make sure they're looking at your chart and protocol thoroughly before seeing you."

"Sounds like a plan to me."

"Okay, I'm gonna print out your schedule for you, and a few exercise handouts I'd like you to work on, especially on days you don't come here. And I'll know if you don't do them, because you won't have improved…so, you better do them."

"Yes, ma'am." she half expected a salute. She rolled her eyes.

"Okay, maybe I'll give you three strikes on the ma'am thing."

"Baseball fan, too?"

"Not that three strikes is so obscure that I'd have to be to know it, but, yes! Major St. Louis Cardinals fan."

"I knew I was gonna like you from the start. Although, being brought up 'round Kansas City m'self, I'm more of a Royals fan."

"Hey, only time I don't root for KC is when they're playing my Redbirds. And even if my team loses to them, it hurts less than if they lose to, say…the Cubs." they shared a scowl of disdain for the Chicago team. "Although, I was happy for them and their fans when they won the series back in 16."

"Yeah, I guess we could afford to let them win one in a hundred years…I'm hoping their next one comes long after I'm in the ground." he chuckled.

"Can't have them getting a big head, can we?"

"Nope! Sure can't!" they both laughed at their mutual interest in dissing rival sports teams.

"Okay, I'll be right back with those handouts." she ran to the office all in one machine to grab the papers she'd printed for him, making sure they were all his and not another patient's. She put them in one of their folders and headed back to her room where he sat on the mat, waiting for her with a smile under his rather impressive beard.

"Before I let you out of here, what questions can I answer for you about what we did today?"

"Oh, uh, nothing comes to mind. You explained everything really well. Did you look at my schedule? Am I with you all the time?"

"Hmm, let's see here, looks like the next two, yes, but I'm off next week, so Heather put you with Jordan, which is what I asked her to do. You two will work great together and he's got a great instinct for injuries like this. And I'll talk to him before I leave. He's one of the best PTAs I've ever worked with, I promise."

"I guess, if you have to take a vacation. I'll see you next time though."

"I'm looking forward to it. That's when the real work will begin, Sy. And our number is on in this paperwork if you have questions, and I've put my card in here, too." they shook hands, and he grabbed the folder from her.

She saw him out of the room and into the lobby. She'd finished with him a bit early, but her next one was already waiting. She needed a break. To collect herself. To breathe.

"Jason! Hey! Go on and get on the recumbent bike, level two. Ride until I get there. We'll get a lot done today if you're already warmed up. I've got a note to finish. And then I'll be in. I should be 15 or less."

While the 19 year old with a torn meniscus hopped to her instructions, she went back to her computer to attempt to finish Sy's eval and pretend that she didn't already have a serious and intense crush on him. This was going to be a long twelve weeks…at least.

Up Next: Chapter Two-Therapeutic Procedure