#there is nothing on my mind beside strawberry dress and the owl house

[blackcatkita]

Get to know my MC- Ride or Die

*These answers are set a couple of years into the future, not where I am currently writing her story and does contain spoilers. 

Elena (Ellie) Lisette Wheeler

Who is their love interest?

She and Logan fell hard and fast into the kind of love that lasts a lifetime. 

How tall are they?

She is 5′3 and can’t reach the top shelf. Logan will grab what she needs if he’s around, but if he’s not she will just climb up on the counter. Or the shelves at the grocery store, whatever.

How do they tend to dress?

College casual. What she wears depends on the season. The East coast is colder than California so in fall and winter it’s sweaters and leggings, sweatshirts and jeans, heeled boots or vans, whatever keeps her covered and comfortable. Warmer weather its a cute top or t-shirt with shorts or a sundress. She prefers bold colors, black or white over pastels, geometric patterns over floral and clean lines over ruffles and bows.

Do they like the way they look?

In grade school it bothered her that she was one of the shortest in her class. Her solution to the problem was trying to stretch herself by hanging from the monkey bars on the swing set her dad put up in the backyard. It didn’t work, but her dad loves telling that story. By middle school she didn’t mind being on the shorter side, she was more focused on studies and besides, who cares? Some people are short and some are tall, it doesn’t change who you are on the inside and that’s what matters. Being so focused on school, she didn’t put that much thought on her looks. She figured she was pretty cute, but when she met Logan senior year he made her feel truly beautiful for the first time. She knows she’s pretty, but she would much rather be judged on her character and intelligence over her looks.

Are they an only child or do they have siblings?

Only child, but her dad’s girlfriend has a fifteen year old daughter and a twelve year old son. If things continue to go well she might have step-siblings someday.

Are they a morning person or a night owl?

Ellie is a night owl, helpful for late night cram sessions, not so helpful for 8am classes. Her roommate Ingrid is the same way. The first few months at Langston had more than a few days of them rushing out the door to make it to class on time. Since Logan moved out east, he makes sure she gets out of bed by her third alarm when he stays over and when she stays at his apartment he gets up before her to start the coffee and make breakfast. Nothing gets Ellie out of bed like the delicious smells of fresh waffles and coffee wafting through the apartment. 

Are they a cat person or a dog person?

More of a cat person but she likes dogs too. She’s never had a pet, her mom was allergic and after she passed her dad was too busy working and filling both parental roles to properly train and care for one. She would like a cat someday, but she wants to wait until she’s done with undergrad and knows where she’s going to grad school before she even thinks about getting one.

Got any favorite foods?

For someone who hates mornings, she loves breakfast. Belgian waffles, omelets, pancakes, even cereal, she will eat it any time of day. She also loves any kind of fruit with the exception of watermelon. She doesn’t hate it, she just thinks it tastes like lightly sweetened water. 

How about favorite drinks?

Coffee, but that’s more out of necessity than an actual favorite. Otherwise it’s raspberry lemonade or Jarritos soda; specifically the flavors strawberry, lime, pineapple and mango.

What are their favorite movies or TV shows?

Between studying, required reading, writing papers and research, she doesn’t have a lot of downtime to watch tv but she does like cuddling up with Logan to watch a movie. She likes fantasy, sci-fi, horror (the sinister haunty kind not the stabby kind), psychological thrillers and mysteries, movies that have a twist at the end and make you think. She dislikes movies that make her sad but loves comedies that make her laugh until she cries. 

Do they have any hidden talents?

She’s never met a puzzle or riddle she couldn’t solve and she slays at board games.

Do they believe in love at first sight?

No, she’s far too logical for that. Attraction is what happens at first sight, driven by the brain chemicals adrenaline, dopamine and serotonin. Considering how fast she fell for Logan, she believes there’s no set timeline for love but it only happens after you truly know someone. 

What are they afraid of?

Failure, but that’s not to say she has a fear of failure in the clinical sense. The thought of failing doesn’t make her avoid trying something or subconsciously sabotage her chances of success, it makes her try harder, sometimes obsessively so. It’s just not acceptable to her, and if she does fail at something, she will take a step back, rethink the problem and try again. Oftentimes after a pint of ice cream.

What are their guilty pleasures?

Chocolate fondue, a glass of wine, reading for pleasure, escape rooms, driving with the windows down and the music blasting, watching Logan work on a car and cheering him on when he participates in a legal race. 

What was their dream job as a kid?

Space Captain. Not an astronaut, a Space Captain.

Is it still their dream?

Sadly, we still don’t have starships cruising around in space but the theme is the same. Ellie is majoring in Aerospace Engineering and her dream is to work for NASA.

Have they ever broken a bone?

The summer she was eight years she built a “plane” out of her bedsheets and some wood she found in the shed. Trying to fly it from the top of said shed turned out not to be the best idea. She crashed, landing on her shoulder and breaking her collarbone. It was a minor fracture and she didn’t need surgery, but she did have to walk around in a sling for a while.

Have they ever been in trouble with the law?

Well, yeah... but they were dirty cops so does it even count?

Three random facts!

-She is a stress cleaner and organizer. If Logan comes home to a spotless apartment smelling of bleach and a re-organized fridge, cabinet, or closet, he knows Ellie is over-stressed about something and it’s time for mission “get Ellie to relax”. A bubble bath, massage, gift certificate to a spa or a sensory depravation pod, dinner out, a long drive... whatever it takes he will do.

-She loves to play in the snow and ever since Logan taught her how to snowboard, they always try to go a few times every winter.

-She is a mega fan of Harry Potter and never understood the appeal of princesses when there were witches and wizards with cool wands. Her Hogwarts house is Ravenclaw and she takes great pride in that. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Requested by @annekebbphotography​, I am posting this in honor of Ride or Die appreciation week epilogue hosted by @brightpinkpeppercorn​ @choicesarehard​ and @client-327​. I wanted to get a fun and fluffy one-shot done for it but alas, I didn’t so that will come as a bonus tomorrow! 

[hiromisuzukimicrojournal]

A Longer Trip Back Home

...

✽

Hey, have a cigarette?

She always asks me if I have a cigarette when she has emptied the last box. Of course I do not have it, she knows. My mother spends all her wages on cigarettes. My mother, a waitress at a café in the center of a suburban residential area at the edge of the world. In the afternoon, the café is filled with ladies. They are housewives coming from elegant houses at the edge of the world, killing time. Mother and the ladies play mah-jongg every Wednesday at the café, in the center of the town, where the smoke of cigarettes wafts stronger than the scent of coffee.

You must go straight home and study, Mother says, as a mother would.

I always stop by a used record store on my way home from high school. Music is the heart of my mind. Today, my favorite tune, “Running Away,” is playing in the store. The Raincoats’ version, not Sly & The Family Stone’s, which is actually called “Runnin’ Away.” I sing to the music.

Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha!

The vinyl collector is smiling wryly.

Delightful tune, but ironical lyrics, he says. I have a 30-year fixed-rate mortgage. I wonder how many more years I have to work. I want to sell this store and get away to San Francisco, the heart of the world. Why? You can see the ocean from the top of the hill. That is all.

His 11-year-old son, strangely mature, enters the conversation while listening near the cash register.

How about your boyfriend? No lover? If you are not in love yet, it is too late. But dad is too young for an affair.

The boy’s eyes twinkle with curiosity. There is a big Himalayan cedar in the back of the record store, and sometimes an owl appears on a branch. When I am staying in the store, forgetting time, I hear the owl tu–whit tu–whoo. A small river flows at the root of the cedar, and there is a small old church on the marsh.

When I was a child, a wedding was held by the side of this river. I was a bridesmaid, and the cedar was decorated like a Christmas tree. The guests carried an enormous red sea bream into the kitchen in preparation for the ceremony. My mother and the vinyl collector’s wife poached the eggs to a beautiful golden colour and boiled four dozen white asparagus as a side dish. On a Swedish glass dish in bas‐relief with dandelions, the butter slowly melted beside the radishes.

Yes. It was spring.

Someone knocked on the door of the kitchen. Ladies in aprons looked around. They thought the knock was the prank of a spring storm. But it was the bridegroom. He rushed to the kitchen sink and turned the tap to gulp down some water. An old woman named Eliza shouted to him from her house across the way.

Too late! The bride has gone somewhere! She is a wayward girl!

Too far! It took a million hours on a bus from Shibuya station! he joked, spouting water from his inflated mouth and soaking his bow tie. He was a chipmunk that came to this marsh on a gondola of chicory leaves.

The bride was beautiful. She was clinging to the cedar, and as she reached out to the star ornaments shining on the branches of the tree, a warm wind teased the hem of her champagne dress. Guests grew excited, little by little. The sky was getting dark. I was crouching alone on the bank of the river at dusk. The chipmunk ran away from the banquet and gave me a leftover chicory leaf like a tiny boat. The boat left my hand. The boat drifted on the river, far away.

Where does this river come from?　I questioned the bridegroom.

A mountain? I do not know. Ha! he answered.

Where does this river go to?

The river reflected the sunset. The chicory boat was floating freely on the water.

The sea? Ah, Tokyo Bay, the Pacific? Ha! Ha!

Tokyo Bay? Little did I know a small river in my small town flows into the infinite ocean. I had never seen the sea.

A girl in a swimsuit with a yellow floral pattern is swimming in a murky pool. Someone beckons her, seduces her. She becomes a little fish and approaches him trembling with fear. No. The girl dives in the ocean for the first time. Not the pool. A blowfish hides at the bottom of the sea. White round blowfish like clouds shine in the sunlight breaking through the faint waves. The blowfish has poison. She keeps swimming in pursuit of poison. A blowfish with white belly inflated does not move. Is he dead? As he opens his eyes slowly, he laughs, showing his teeth.

All of us have a place in history. Mine is in the clouds, he says *[1].

Dad! she cries with joy. Her father died a drunk at fifty years of age. Everyone says it was a slow-motion suicide. No. Certainly, he lives his life at the bottom of the sea, or as the shadow of a cloud floating on the surface of the ocean. There is a Japanese proverb: control poison with poison. Her father was fighting the evil in his mind with his own poison. She remembers his rounded back. Late at night, or on a Sunday afternoon, he headed to his desk with a bottle of Johnnie Walker and read the collection of poems. She cannot remember the titles of foreign books. The poems were written in English or French. The girl begins to swim toward the sun. Petals scattering from her swimsuit shine in the water. Like cherry blossoms dancing in a cloudy sky.

The memory of the wedding at the root of the Himalayan cedar raised for me the riddle of a small river in my small town. I decided to explore the headsprings and the destination of this flow. I bought a 1950s map of Tokyo at Jimbōchō. At the ward office, I found historical documents about Shibuya Ward. The map showed that the source of river was a marsh under the church. One more place. I found a pond on the site of an old mansion, the place I always see on my way to school. No one seemed to live there, and unmanaged trees grew thick behind the high wall. The map said Davies House. Once a British trading merchant lived here. Mr. Davies sold his mansion and returned home in the 1980s. During the Edo period, in the 1600s, it was a pleasure garden called Oyama-en. The garden was not a place for children to play. There were no merry-go-rounds, roller coasters or kiosks selling gelato. It was the place where poets gathered, in the gazebo at the pond. Intellectuals enjoyed tea and spent time meditating.

The gate of the abandoned mansion had been closed for about 40 years. One fine Sunday, I found out that the site of the mansion was open to Shibuya residents, but only for the day. The garden was already full of people strolling with flowers in their hands. The petals shine with droplets, because the night before was rainy. The faces of people are shining with curiosity. Not only the vines of feral trees but also the ferns are crawling at my feet. I have difficulty walking. In the deep green woods, a lacquered bridge is painted a particularly bright shade of red. I stand on the bridge. Under it, spring water bubbles in a dry pond.

A chipmunk of about 12 centimeters fills his cheeks with buds and jumps off the zelkova tree. The chipmunk is eating mock strawberries growing around the pond.

This is cute Fraisier de Duchesne. Mock Strawberry is also called poison strawberry, but it is not poisonous. Try it. Ha! the chipmunk says to me proudly and plays in the pond using the red fruit as a beach ball. The bright red strawberry slips through his fingers and is swallowed by invisible swirls on the water. It disappears into the drain of the pond. There is a river, a culvert, beyond the drain. It was buried in concrete beneath the Metropolitan Area when the Olympics were held in Tokyo in 1964.

Fraisier de Duchesne left itself to the water. Sunlight melted into the Kōhone-River. The water was warm. Kōhone Flowers–East Asian yellow water-lilies–surrounding the river were swaying gently in the wind. Leaves were floating on the surface. Fraisier de Duchesne came out of the darkness in the groundwater and bathed in the sunlight on a leaf. A little boy and his father held hands and passed by Fraisier de Duchesne. They were singing a song.

A small river in spring is flowing smoothly *[2]  

To violets and milk-vetch flowers on the shore

While flowering gently in beautiful colour

Bloom please, bloom, While whispering

Fraisier de Duchesne, pretty in red, has no poison and knows nothing about poison. It will leave itself to the stream of water and time as ever.    

I am standing on Inari-Bridge near the Shibuya Station. All rivers leading to this bridge are culverts. Buildings are towering on both sides of the bridge, a forest of department stores, restaurants, brothels. Shibuya River flows under the bridge. I can see the water with my eyes. The river passes through the downtown. Various people come and go. Various voices are confused with various languages. The clear stream has revived on the Shibuya River before the Tokyo Olympics in 2020. I am moved by the truth that there is a sea called Tokyo Bay, if I will swim about 6.8 kilometers from here. The orange colour of the sun floating on the Shibuya River is the same as it on the nameless small river in my small town. The murmur of a stream whispers.

Shall we run away to the ocean?      

I have forever heard it. The music was played repeatedly on a late-night program on the radio. Maybe it is a melody signaling that a passenger ship is leaving port but is not suitable for departure. Colourful flags on the mast are fluttering in the blue sky. On the surface of the sea, reversed flags shimmer like stained glass. Their shadows are waving to the pulse of engines. I recall that this was my favorite song while looking at the port far away. On my way home, on the bus, I am listening to “Runnin’ Away” on my mobile phone. Sly & The Family Stone’s version, not The Raincoats’, which is anyway called “Running Away.”

San Francisco is too far. Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha!  

Murmuring aloud, I can see from the window that the huge rain cloud chases the bus. The cloud seems to be as high as Montmartre. The front window of the bus is sprayed with heavy rain and becomes completely white. Lightning and the sudden shower cut off my music. The bus has no choice but to stop at the station square. The smell of rain invades. I hear footsteps of seasonal changes. I know that I was pretending not to notice the change of seasons. A mother and child in the seat across the aisle are talking.

We left our umbrella in grandma’s home, but it will clear up soon.

They are looking at brand new shoes they just bought at the department store. Desert boots which are made of suede. I wonder if they are trying to transport themselves by supernatural force to a desert planet 900 light years from the earth. There is no sea on the other side of the moon. I am thinking of the sea.

Yes. Summer will come soon.

✽

image: hiromi suzuki

…

*Quotations:

[1] The Tokyo-Montana Express, 1980 A collection of short stories by Richard Brautigan

[2] Small River in Spring, 1912 A song for schoolchildren Lyrics: Tatsuyuki Takano Music: Teiichi Okano (Translation: hiromi suzuki) Takano had his residence near the Kōhone-River (Yoyogi 3-chōme Shibuya-Ward, Tokyo) when he wrote the lyrics of Small River in Spring. At that time, Kōhone-River was running as a stream that supplied water to the fields, and joined the Shibuya River.

…

✽  ✽  ✽

A Longer Trip Back Home

© short fiction by hiromi suzuki

published in 3:AM Magazine (February 11, 2020)

 …

 via 3:AM Magazine

✽

I am grateful to have been given this opportunity by Mark de Silva, the Fiction Editor for 3:AM Magazine.

…

[brookutoh]

Scenario where kuroo likes the reader but thinks shes out of his league and everyone is telling him that he should go for it but he doesnt and at a Christmas party, they're slightly drunk and end up making out?

This is fantastic because I’ve been craving Kuroo lately, AND I managed to fail at finishing this for long enough that it’s now Kuroo’s birthday, so what better way to celebrate than with 3k words of drunken party shenanigans?

Thanks for the prompt, and enjoy!!

“Kuro, you’re smiling at your phone again.”

The sudden voice of his best friend - despite its usual quietness - caused Kuroo to jump about a foot in the air. Embarrassment at being exposed so openly quickly turned to annoyance at Kenma’s words.

He huffed. “What, am I not allowed to smile at my phone now?”

Kenma granted him a look over the top of his PSP, one that Kuroo could swear he’d seen in a nightmare before. It was the phrase ‘don’t fuck with me’ in its rawest form.

“It’s what you’re smiling at that’s the problem,” Kenma muttered.

Kuroo frowned down at his phone. He was once again texting you, and you were once again causing him to grin like an idiot at your messages. He couldn’t help it; you were just so cute! Kuroo would be the first to admit that he loved talking to you, whether that be via text or face-to-face, he just loved hearing your thoughts and opinions, and when you told him a story - even if it was as simple as how your day went - he would listen with rapt attention as you spoke.

This was where the problem lay: sure, you were a fantastic friend, and Kuroo was thankful every single day that you’d been introduced all those months ago. It just sucked that he wished that you could be more than friends.

Apparently, this thought was written all over his face because he heard Kenma sigh from his spot on Kuroo’s bed. “Just ask her out.”

“Sure, if it were that simple I wo-”

“It is that simple.”

But it wasn’t. At least, not to Kuroo. It was a difficult situation, both because he knew he would be rejected straightaway and because the amazing friendship the two of you shared would be ruined as soon as you found out about his feelings. More than anything, he was terrified of your imminent disgust that someone like him felt that way about you. And that was something he just wouldn’t be able to handle.

Another sigh from Kenma. “She’s not going to reject you.”

Kuroo fixed him with a look. “Not even you’re that observant.”

Saying nothing more, Kenma simply rolled his eyes and went back to his game, ending the conversation then and there. Kuroo finished typing out a text to you, and then your next message caused him to pause.

[13:03] Her : oh yeah!!! are you going to the haiba xmas party??

Kuroo blinked at the screen twice, before looking up to his preoccupied best friend. “Lev’s having a Christmas party?”

“Yeah, this day next week. Thought I told you.”

“You didn’t.”

“Oh.”

Not paying any attention to Kenma’s disinterested tone, Kuroo asked, “Are you going?”

Stupid question, as shown by the sudden grimace on Kenma’s face. Still, he didn’t answer immediately, and Kuroo felt a snippet of pride when the blond answered, “Maybe.”

Probably Lev had pestered him enough about it that Kenma had given in somewhat. If he did end up going at all, it would either be for only a few minutes or he would spend the night in some unoccupied room playing video games.

But if you were inquiring about the party, then did that mean you were going? Kuroo hadn’t been to many of Lev’s parties, but ever since the boy had turned 18 a few years ago his parents had started going on vacation more often and leaving the family’s enormous house (Kuroo would call it a mansion, really) into the hands of Lev and his sister. With little-to-no persuasion from the older Haiba sibling to the younger, they’d started throwing massive parties wherever possible. They were somewhat notorious by now; the last one Kuroo had gone to - before he’d met you - was still a very large black hole in his memory, and the tiny fragments he could actually remember involved dancing on a table, seeing Bokuto naked, and walking in on at least twelve couples in compromising positions throughout the house.

Needless to say, he wasn’t quite sure how he felt about you being involved in all this. Typing out a quick question to ask if you were going - to which you responded with an enthusiastic ‘yes!!!!’ - the decision was made for him.

[13:17] Kuroo: Yeah, I’m definitely going :)

***

You stared at yourself in the mirror. “Isn’t this dress a little… revealing?”

Behind you, Alisa was also staring at your reflection, arms crossed and a smile on her face. “That’s the point! We have to give Kuroo-kun a treat, don’t we?”

Not for the first time tonight, you blushed at the mention of Kuroo. Since she’d discovered your embarrassing crush on one of your closest friends, the gorgeous half-Russian had taken it upon herself to help you ‘break out of your shell’ (her words) and snag him. While you hadn’t exactly taken much of her advice up until this point, the encroaching couple’s holiday of Christmas was making your desire to be more than platonic with Kuroo reach new levels.

Thus, why you were now looking at yourself in Alisa’s full-length mirror while dressed in a very short, very low-cut, and very sexy red dress. Festive though it may be, it was certainly not something you would’ve picked out for yourself to wear, but Alisa had bought it specifically with you in mind, having presented it to you as a Christmas present as soon as you’d stepped foot in the Haiba residence one hour ago.

You had to give her credit though, your self-proclaimed surrogate older sister had taste. And possibly had also taken your measurements without your knowledge, because this was the most well-fitting piece of clothing you’d ever worn in your life. And, okay, the thought of Kuroo seeing you like this almost definitely had you eager for tonight.

“Okay,” you nodded, turning around to face Alisa properly. “I’ll wear it.”

“Great!” She squealed. “Now just let me do your hair and makeup, and there’s no way you’ll leave the party single.”

You rolled your eyes as she got to work, but ultimately you were grateful for all her help. Now all you had to do was talk to Kuroo. That would be easy, right? He was your friend, you talked to him all the time. There wouldn’t be any problems.

***

Kenma walked into the room you were hiding in. He granted you a single glance before wandering over to sit beside you on the bed and pulling a Nintendo Switch from his apparently quite deep jacket pocket. “We could play MarioKart.”

You shook your head. “No, that’s okay. I just… need to talk myself into leaving.”

“No pressure.”

Kenma was a good friend, you’d always thought. Quiet, wickedly clever, and ridiculously observant. So observant, in fact, that he’d discovered your feelings for his best friend before you’d even realised them yourself.

Which is why your next question was, “Is he here?”

A nod. “We came together.” A pause. “He’s looking for you.”

“…Maybe if I hide up here, then-”

“Lev told him you were here. Also, he would come look for me if he couldn’t find you.”

Dangit. Looks like you’d have to face him after all. In this dress. Which, okay, did look fantastic on you and was building confidence where previously you’d had none, but this was Kuroo.

“He likes red,” Kenma hummed, almost inaudible.

The dress was red. The shoes were red. The jewellery you’d borrowed from Alisa all had inlaid rubies. The pins holding your hair in place were red. Your lipstick was blood red.

You shot an accusatory glance towards the boy beside you, who shrugged. “Alisa asked. I answered.”

You couldn’t help it. You laughed. Your friends were simultaneously wonderful and terrible. You caught a small smile on Kenma’s face at your amusement, and only then did you gesture to yourself and ask, “Do you think he’ll like it?”

Kenma gave you a look. “You could wear a trashbag and he’d still want to drag you upstairs.”

Oh. Well. Now your cheeks were red to match the rest of you. Still, you nodded. “I should probably go then, shouldn’t I?”

“Please.”

You stuck your tongue out at him for that but ultimately found yourself leaving the room and standing in one of the many long corridors throughout the house. The floor beneath you was practically pounding with the loud beat of the music pulsating through the building, and you could already hear drunken cheers and what sounded a lot like an owl hooting. Or maybe that was just Bokuto, you weren’t sure.

Not for the first time, you found yourself considering how lucky you were that you actually knew your way around this place, easily finding your way into the secret passage linking this hall to the floor below. Dusty and dark though it may be, it had you emerging into the very crowded kitchen a minute later. A quick glance over the partygoers showed no tall bedheads, but it did show a very exhausted-looking Akaashi.

“I don’t know where he is,” was his greeting to you. “Would you like a drink?”

Well, this was a party. You may as well indulge in some aspects of it in between searching for a certain middle blocker. You nodded and were immediately handed a cup of something bright pink and somewhat ominous.

“It tastes like strawberries,” Akaashi supplied, before knocking back his own cup.

You supposed it could taste like a lot worse, so you mirrored his actions. It did taste like strawberries, but once it had slipped down your throat you were left feeling like you had downed straight vodka. Which, considering you were in the home of two half-Russians, was probably the case. Deciding you needed all the help you could get tonight, you finished off the rest of the drink. Without a word, Akaashi took your now-empty cup and refilled it.

You stayed there for a little while longer, taking note of everybody who entered the room, but failing to find exactly who you were looking for. You kept drinking, and Akaashi kept refilling your cup, until the two of you were flushed and giggling about something Kuroo had said or Bokuto had done.

“Oookay,” you laughed as you calmed your breathing down. “I need to stop drinking.”

Akaashi nodded. “Me too, I think. This stuff is bad.”

“Very,” you agreed, before remembering what your goal for tonight was. “Ugh, I need to go find Kuroo now. How is it so easy to lose him? He’s so tall!”

Akaashi thought for a second. “Mmmaybe he’s with Bokuto?”

That made sense. “But where’s Bokuto?”

From elsewhere in the house, the unmistakable sound of hooting could be heard. Akaashi looked at you with pride. “Found him.”

Grasping onto each other for support since walking in a straight line was difficult, the two of you made your way to the other side of the house. The games room was about as full as the kitchen had been, but almost everyone in here was crowded around the large pool table in the centre, as it was currently being used as a makeshift table by both Bokuto and Iwaizumi to arm-wrestle, although they were currently locked in a stalemate.

Bokuto glanced towards you and Akaashi, face lighting up in a grin at seeing the latter. Before he could call out a greeting, however, his focus was drawn back to his hand as Iwaizumi made an attempt at pushing for the win.

You took this opportunity to glance around the room, feeling yourself deflate ever so slightly when zero bedheads could be found. You were positive he’d be with his best bro, this was just getting ridiculous now.

As you watched Akaashi leave you to go and cheer Bokuto on, you wondered if maybe every part of this was just a sign that things weren’t meant to be. Well, that thought certainly depressed you. Maybe it was best to retreat for now, your head was pretty fuzzy after all.

It took you far longer than usual to climb up the nearest staircase, but you felt an immense amount of pride at yourself for actually making it to the top. Now your next course of action was to find a new hiding place, this time one without any other occupants.

You did feel a semblance of guilt deep inside as you pressed an ear to each bedroom door, like you were ruining everyone’s privacy, but it was far better than actually walking in and seeing something that would give you the urge to gouge out your own eyes.

Finally, you found a quiet door, bursting in none-too-subtly to find that it was not as empty as you’d first assumed.

Kuroo looked over to the door with a jolt from his seat on the bed, before his eyes widened exponentially at seeing you. And then they looked down the length of your body, and then back up to your face. And then, despite the drunken flush on his cheeks and slight glassiness of his eyes, he smirked that ungodly smirk and winked.

“Red looks great on you.”

Well, fuck him. How dare he be that attractive despite being a little blurry around the edges? How dare he beckon you over with an unsteady hand, and how dare you stumble over in record time?

How dare he, you continued to think as you straddled his waist and eagerly planted your mouth onto his own. His hands came up to rest on your hips as he kissed back with the same amount of enthusiasm, and soon you were cursing him once again, this time for almost definitely having smudged your lipstick.

When his tongue made its way into your mouth you tasted strawberries. Your hands making their way up to nestle in his unruly hair, you pulled his head back just enough to disconnect your lips.

“I was looking for you for ages,” you whined breathlessly.

“So was I,” he replied with an overdramatic pout. “Where were you?”

“I was…” Oh yeah. “Hiding in a bedroom. Then Kenma came in.”

“Why were you hiding?”

You looked away. “You.”

“Me?”

“You,” you nodded.

His brow furrowed. “I was hiding from you too.”

Oh. “You were?”

“Yeah. I drank a lot of the pink stuff and then wanted to kiss you real bad.”

You gasped, eyes snapping back to his. “Me too! Maybe it was a love potion.”

“Maybe,” he grinned. “It worked.”

You blinked for a second, before the realisation of where you were and what you’d just done hit you as quickly as your blurry mind would allow. “Hey, it did!”

He laughed. “Maybe we should kiss some more, in case it wears off.”

“Okay!”

And then you dizzily met him again.

“WAKE UP SLEEPYHEADS!”

Oh no. That was way too loud. That was illegally loud. There would be noise complaints. The police would be called. You would all be arrested. What would prison do to you? Would you be the same person afterwards? Would you be able to find yourself a nice prison wife? Would-

“Please let us live,” came a hoarse voice from beside you.

Wait. Beside you? Who was beside you?

You slowly cracked one eye open, every part of your nervous system complaining about the sunlight filtering into the bedroom through the window. It took a few blinks to rid yourself of all residual blurriness, but once that task had been completed your focus zeroed in on the body next to you in bed.

In… bed.

You were in bed, and this person was next to you.

And then said person rolled over to face you and all blood drained from your face.

“Mornin’,” Kuroo whisper-greeted you, a very sleepy - and very attractive - smile on his face.

Suddenly you were very conscious that he was shirtless. And with the hand hidden beneath the duvet, you quickly had an exploratory roam across your body to find that you were wearing your underwear, and nothing else.

“M-Morning,” you replied with all the confidence you could muster. Which was none.

Alisa, still standing at the door after having woken you both up as if she were Satan’s daughter herself, watched your exchange with nothing short of glee.

“Glad to see you two had a good night,” she grinned, pointedly looking down at a heap of red fabric on the floor. With a blush, you realised it was your dress.

Next to you, Kuroo rolled his eyes. “Nothing happened, Alisa.”

She shrugged. “Don’t hate me for assuming. Come downstairs when you’re ready, there’s coffee and bacon in the kitchen.”

She closed the door behind her as she left, and your stomach growled at the mention of food. But before that, you turned to meet Kuroo’s gaze. “Did nothing really happen?”

“Well, we made out for a while and then fell asleep. But other than that, no.”

You nodded, letting out a sigh of relief. “Okay, good.”

When he spoke next, his voice was quiet. “Do you hate the idea of it that much?”

The sudden heartbroken look on his face had you flailing. “N-No! I don’t at all, I’d just prefer if something like that didn’t happen when I was very drunk.”

“So you’d be okay with it if you weren’t drunk?” He asked, a smirk now replacing any sadness that had been on his face.

“Or hungover,” you added, in case he had any ideas about how to spend the morning. “But yes, I’d be fine with it. I kissed you, remember?”

He grinned. “You did. You could do it again if you wanted.”

You really did want to, but a memory from the night before had surfaced. “Did you mean what you said last night?”

“About liking you?” You nodded. “Yeah. I thought you were way out of my league though.”

Your mouth dropped open. “How?! I thought you were out of my league.”

He laughed a little, stopping when it apparently hurt his head. “We’re not very smart.”

“No,” you agreed. “But now we know.”

He stared at you for a long moment, before smiling. “If you were gonna kiss me again, now would be a great time to do it.”

You rolled your eyes but conceded.

Breakfast could wait.

[littlesilverplatinum]

Happy Birthday, Little Lamb – Oh, How you Have Grown

---

For all intents and purposes, Hikari was at peace.

In the inky depths of nothingness, never falling yet never staying in one place for long enough to remember it. The open field around her sat littered with stars, lights and fireflies. If she looked to her hands, she could not see them. Only glimpses, here and there – shapes formed through shadows.

……. Hikari…….

A voice hummed against her chest, deep and hollow. Close yet far away. Distant… and closer than it should be. Her gaze cast over a shape – something – moving behind her. Slithered like a serpent, eyes shut tight.

……. Hikari…….

Uselessly, she tried to find a way to move around. To help herself find footing in a sea of nothing but darkness. The young girl kicks her feet, moves her arms – swims where water was nonexistent. --Her back hit something hard. And though she cannot see it, she knows that she has found what she was looking for. Cold, rough but when she smoothed her hands over it, she could at least make out it was a platform of sort. Hikari heaved herself onto it, gravity suddenly taking hold of her and had it not been for the fact that she already had her torso laid flat on the piece of land, she would’ve fallen.

Back into nothingness.

“Land…” She whispered to herself, feeling around with numb fingers. Had it always been cold? She could not tell.

… It was in a stumble that she stood.

There was a brush against her skin, over her bare ankles and feet with lilac touches and butterfly wings. Somehow, in her mind’s eye – she knew what it was. Though clouded in complete darkness, she knew it. Its name, its meaning.

Anemone. -Forsaken.

---

These days, she slept more than she ever had in any earlier stage of her life. As a kid, she refused to take naps – which had often been much to the dismay of her mother. A child that doesn’t sleep isn’t a happy one. Not in mind, not in soul. Even when on her journey, Hikari barely slept even though she very well could’ve. Now, as she felt the soft, feathery pillow of her childhood bed – she couldn’t comprehend how she ever stayed awake. Hikari moved, only to feel the soft, plush covers over her resting shape. Only to feel the heat of having fallen sleep fully clothed.

--Not everything about naps was… pleasant.

Through the blinds covering her window, she could catch glimpses of starlight. Of streetlights having come on to guide the late-night goers back home. The shadows they cast over her were straight lines, broken up but parallel to each other. She found it to be… Pretty. Mesmerizing, if nothing more.

The soft sounds of footsteps coming to her door broke her out of those thoughts. Johanna, her mother, knocked on the closed door leading to her room three times – with the back of her wrist, not her knuckles – before pushing it open.

“Hikari.” Johanna whispered for her daughter, who by now had turned around to make a show of sleeping. “I hope you haven’t forgotten what day it is today,” mother continued. Her voice sat soft and gentle and so, so familiar. Caring. She had only ever wanted the best for her daughter.

There was silence for a moment before Hikari replied. “My birthday… I know.”

The soft click of the door closing was all she needed to hear before she moved herself outside the confines of her bed. Pushing the covers to the side, she unbuttoned her dress in the back to change into something less bed-matted and sweaty.

A t-shirt and cardigan, paired with a long skirt, was her items of choice.

When she came downstairs, the scent of something she hadn’t smelled in what felt like years washed over her. Rose and sugar sat as the most prominent scents, wafting through the kitchen and into the living room like a spring breeze. On the three-seat couch sat Hanish, though this time with significantly less sharp talons to avoid any major tearing – a repeat of yesterday’s happenings wasn’t anything anyone wanted. Least not her mom. --Hikari padded over on light feet and took a seat – which was directly followed by the owl taking three leaps to land upon her shoulder. The weight of him caused her wounds to flare with pain, though only momentarily and not enough so for her to really react to it. A flinch, perhaps, but nothing more.

Soon after, Johanna entered the living room with napkins and plates. The nicer kind, the ones that they kept in a special cabinet and would only use during holidays and special occasions. Today (or rather, tonight) was one of those occasions.

Even though, perhaps, it wasn’t so special to her.

“I just took the cake out from the fridge,” mother spoke, kneeling carefully to place the dishware to its intended place. The low couch table was not their most common seating arrangement, but sometimes you may forgo manners for comfort. “Let’s keep it out for just a moment before we have a bite, alright?”

Hikari responded with a nod – something her mother couldn’t see, though none of the women commented on the fact. Once the plates were set, Johanna returned to the kitchen to fetch cutlery and glasses.

“It was a while since we celebrated your birthday, was it not Hikari?” A nostalgic tone came over Johanna’s words. Reminiscence about days long gone. --It took everything within Hikari to not explain that it happened just last year.

For her.

Something vile begun to form in back of her throat, though she pushed it down. Forced it down. Reminded herself that… There had not been any ill intent, in her mother’s words. For Johanna, it truly had been three years since she last got to celebrate her only child’s birthday.

… She shouldn’t have such a reaction to it all.

“Yeah,” she answered, long after the moment had passed.

---

Eighteen candles. That is how many she would’ve had to blow out. Eighteen candles, one for each year she should’ve lived.

Three of those meant nothing to her. She hadn’t been there to experience them and never would get the chance to. When the rose jam cake her mother had made from scratch came to sit upon the table, a rush relief came over her. --Because in reality, there were no candles. Nothing to show what her intended age was – nothing but soft-pink icing and strawberry ornaments.

“Happy birthday, dear.” Words of honest and deep love – whenever her mother spoke to her now, it was with intent behind each syllable. A tilt to her tone to show compassion and care. Because that was who she was. Had always been.

Hikari sat on the edge of the couch seat, her skirt tucked close around her limbs. The arms over her cardigan covered her knuckles, hid away burns she gained in her travels. --At her side, Hanish rested against her. Slept as he always did – never fully, always alert, but cuddled up against her in search of warmth.

What hit Hikari was how… Normal everything felt. No pain in her chest, no direct worry or anxiety that festered within her throat. Just… normal. Of no real importance.

If this didn’t take place right now, nothing in the world would change.

It was with numb fingers that she got herself a piece of the cake, a soft sound of gratitude escaping her lips in a breath. The soft cake easily bent under the weight of the knife – parted, just as it should.

It was normal.

Johanna told her about the process of making rose jam – ‘You would need to learn eventually, Hikari. It’s a family sort of thing.’ – and how this time, it had turned out particularly sweet.

Hikari couldn’t really taste it, but didn’t say so. It would only lessen her mother’s bright mood.

She fed part of her piece to Hanish – the owl having woken himself up by ruffling his feathers and getting himself pretty. A small stash of feathers laid beside him. Ones he had deemed unworthy to stay, dirtied or bent in ways he didn’t enjoy. --Hikari instinctively rolled her left shoulder, tested its given mobility.

She shouldn’t be able to move it, something in her said. Claw at it, break it away.

But she had already done that enough, had she not? The thick gauze pad pressed against her shoulder blade told as much. Yet, she reached to feel it. Reminded herself that it was there.

“Is there anything you wish for, Hikari?”

Johanna’s voice broke through her thoughts, bringing her back to the present. Candles flared to life at the corner of her eyes, her mother having forgone artificial lighting for more cozy ones. ‘Just like last time’, she had said. And Hikari couldn’t bring herself to remember such a thing.

“That I… Wish for?”

I wish my arm was gone.

“I… Don’t really think I wish for anything.”

I wish you wouldn’t look at me with pity.

One last spoon went to her bird, who promptly after took to fly over to the kitchen. With his feet, he got the tap working and washed his beak off. --Hikari placed her half empty plate back onto the table.

After a moment, Johanna spoke again. “Nothing?” She questioned. “Nothing at all?”

I wish I could go back to before everything happened.

“Nothing at all,” she repeated, leaning back against the soft cushions of the couch. Hikari tucked her knees against her chest, making sure to pull down her skirt to cover her feet. Mother watched daughter for another moment, before she stood up and crossed the room. A cabinet was opened with a key, hidden behind a framed picture of Hikari – age six.

“Well,” Johanna began, locking the cabinet door behind her after grabbing what she had come for. “I hope my gift will make you happy, anyways.”

Instead of going back to her original seat – the two-seat couch, Johanna sat down next to her daughter. Perhaps not as close as she wanted to be, but close enough for Hikari to feel that it was enough.

In her hands sat a box, something Hikari recognized as a jewelry container. Tucked between two fingers – a letter. Nothing was written on the outside. No return address, not even the address to their house.

“Since you’re eighteen now… I can give you this.” Her mother held out the box for her to take, which Hikari took with just a short moment of hesitation.

The box was velvet clad, soft to the touch and fit nicely in her palm. It didn’t weigh much, if anything.

“Go on,” Johanna ushered. Hikari decided to get it over with. Opening the case and the item laid within was… expected.

Stud earrings, small and pleasant. Framed by silver, a glass textured crystal sat nestled inside.

“They are… Pretty.”

She had nothing to say about them, in reality. Hikari never often wore jewelry – hadn’t really been able to, out of fear of losing them while out on her journey. At most, she had worn a necklace once or twice but then quickly shipped it back home for safekeeping.

She did, however, wear small plastic earrings. Nothing too valuable, with one hole in the right and two in the left. She had gotten them done long, long ago...

“They are something my mother got me when I turned sixteen. But,” almost apologetically, she moved strands of hair away from the shape of her ears. Her mother never got them pierced. “I never wore them.”

“So I thought… Now is the chance for them to get used.”

Hikari nodded her head, more out of manners instilled in her at a young age than anything else. Listen to adults, even when they are wrong.

“Thank you.” She expressed, closing the box in her palm. “I will… Put them in tomorrow morning.”

“Sounds good. Oh, and Hikari?”

“Yes?”

“Open this before you go to bed, would you? It’s something special.” Johanna handed her the envelope, sealed and bare. Hikari took it, though didn’t pay it much mind. It was just a letter, after all.

As Hikari rose from her seat, she clicked her tongue to bring her bird to her. He flew to her, taking great care in landing on her outstretched arm before adjusting himself to sit upon her shoulder. The right one, this time. As she exited the living room, taking her first step back upstairs – she turned.

Johanna was starting to clean up, gathering the dishes for washing. When she caught her daughter looking, she smiled.

“Thank you for the meal,” Hikari said, before taking two steps at a time to leave it all behind.

---

The letter, as it were, meant nothing.

It was from her father, or so it said. Its content expressed love towards her – asking her how she must have grown so much since he last saw her. Did she remember their trips, or were those memories gone with the years past? --If the lack of an address didn’t give it away, the handwriting did.

Hikari placed it down on her vanity, along with other items she never had any use for.

She knew her mother did it out of compassion. Out of love. But it didn’t save it from meaning absolutely nothing to her. Why would she want empty words from a mother who knew as little about her father whereabouts as she?

The girl starring back at her wasn’t herself, but she already knew that. Still, as she saw the lines of her features – the bruise that hadn’t healed – she found herself fingering at her hair. --Brushed it aside, to reveal those black, plastic studs she had worn since she was eleven.

Four years, not counting those she hasn’t experienced.

Perhaps it was time for something… new.

The velvet box sat before her, closed and dull with sentimental treasures inside. Not for her, but for her mother. Hikari flipped the lid open, the dull lights of her room doing nothing for the look of those charms. They weren’t ugly by any means – surely, they cost a good amount for what you got. But Hikari had never thought herself to like pretty things.

Still, as she took the old ones out – a small sense of excitement filled her chest. Not tight, not heavy or unpleasant. Just a flutter. A heartbeat skipping.

Hikari leaned over the desk space of the vanity to see herself in the mirror, hair falling over her shoulder like inky curtains. After the first one was in, she changed sides. When she got them both, she tucked her hair behind both her ears and looked at herself.

Nothing really changed. She was still Hikari.

“What do you do… when you turn eighteen?” She asked, aloud to herself.

The soft coo’s of Hanish was of no help. The voices she heard said nothing of use.

Come back to me, if you’re lost.

… Was anemone really such a bad flower?

[sassycassie-s-writing]

Amortentia

By: SassyShoulderAngel319

Fandom/Character(s): Final Fantasy XV/Ignis Scientia feat. the Chocobros

Rating: PG/K+

Original Idea: This thing!

Notes: (Masterlist)(By Character)(About Me) Hogwarts AU y’all!

^^^^^

Slytherins usually had potions with the Gryffindors. It was obnoxious. I swear there was never a noisier house than Gryffindor. Like, Hufflepuffs could be chatty but come on—the Gryffindors didn’t know when to shut their traps.

Which was why sixth year NEWT advanced potions with the Ravenclaws excited me. Maybe they’d be a bit easier to work around than the Gryffindors.

Also it meant Ignis and I would be in the same potions class so I could finally see if he was as good as everyone boasted he was.

When I reached the dungeons, the Ravenclaws were already there, in their seats, browsing idly through their textbooks. Except Ignis. His was sitting closed on his desk and he was reading something entirely unrelated to the class at hand. He was sitting alone at a desk. I immediately went and sat next to him. “Morning,” I greeted.

“Good morning,” he replied distractedly, pushing his glasses up his nose.

The other Slytherins and I were running a tad late because of Professor McGonagall’s lecture on advanced Transfiguration, so Professor Slughorn began the moment the last Slytherin was in their seat.

“Good morning, class,” he said. “Welcome to your first day of NEWT-level advanced potions. You’re all in here because you got O’s and E’s on your OWL exams. Congratulations! This morning I have an assortment of potions up here on my table that we will be brewing throughout the term. Would anyone venture a guess as to which ones they are?” He gestured to a row of bubbling cauldrons.

Ignis and I raised our hands at the same time. Ignis’ went up faster, so Slughorn called on him.

He got up and approached the teacher’s workbench, peering at them. “The little one in the middle is Felix Felicis. Otherwise known as Liquid Luck.”

“Well done. We won’t be brewing it this term because it’s devilishly tricky and takes six months. Do carry on.”

“The one on the far left is the Draught of Living Death—an incredibly powerful sleep potion.” He rattled off two more before he caught everyone else’s attention again. “This one is Amortentia—the most powerful love potion in the world. Although—” He put on his Know-It-All expression. “—it cannot create actual love. That’s impossible. It mimics powerful infatuation and obsession. It’s one of the most dangerous potions on the table due to that. Supposedly it smells different to each person—based on what attracts them.”

“Well, what do you smell?” Slughorn encouraged.

Ignis took a deep breath through his nose, leaning over the cauldron. His glasses fogged up for a moment. “I smell… perfectly brewed Ebony… freshly fallen rain… and…” His ears turned red. “And yeah,” he finished. Quickly he returned to his seat next to me.

I smiled at him. “Show off,” I whispered. “Identifying them by sight.”

“And smell,” he added. “I could smell the rain and the Ebony from down the corridor.”

“Normally, I begin the term with having you brew the Draught of Living Death—but I think this time I'm going to do a pretest on how well you make Amortentia. You’ll find the recipe in your books—can’t quite remember the page. It’s in the table of contents. You’ll find it. You’re all bright students.” Slughorn smiled at us. “Work in pairs. Ingredients are in the cupboard. Chop-chop!”

Everyone got up to gather their ingredients. Ignis and I got ours first. Out of habit I gravitated to the Slytherin tables. It wasn’t that we couldn’t mingle with the other houses. We just didn’t. Probably because we were most comfortable with our own houses.

As I got everything set up, Slughorn slunk around the room like an oversized caterpillar, muttering numbers under his breath.

“Well,” he said. “It seems we’ve an odd number of both Slytherins and Ravenclaws in this class this year. Miss Constellatio?”

I turned, eyebrows raised. “Sir?”

“Would you mind pairing up with Mr. Scientia?” He gestured to Ignis.

I scooped up my supplies. Good thing I hadn’t started the fire yet. “Of course not, sir,” I said. I joined Ignis at the desk in the front of the room.

Slughorn came over and leaned against the opposite side of the desk—the old wood creaking under his weight. “I'm doing this for selfish reasons, you know,” he said. “The two of you have always been some of my best and brightest. I’d rather not pit you against one another. I expect you two will do very well together.” He winked at us and left.

Ignis pushed his book at me, already open to the recipe. “After you,” he said.

As we set to work, I glanced at the potion description above the recipe. “Says here that most people smell three scents in the vapor,” I remarked. No one else seemed to hear me. I looked over at Ignis. He was cleaning more steam off his glasses on the blue lining inside the sleeve of his robe. “Well?” I nudged him playfully with my elbow. He looked up, squinting slightly to see me in the dim light without his glasses.

“Well what?” he asked.

“What was your third scent?” I prompted.

“New books,” he said. His ears turned red again.

“Liar,” I said. But I didn’t press it. Clearly the third scent was something he was embarrassed about. I could tease him about it later.

The class period dragged on. Ignis and I kept working doggedly. I had Ignis to thank for that. He was pretty determined to finish it.

As we worked, I finally figured out what I kept smelling—Ignis’ cologne. It was spicy but not overpowering. The rest of the room beyond our table was a mix of the individual ingredients’ scents and… was that the cookies Ignis baked for me over the summer? And rain on pavement?

“Are we doing this right?” Ignis asked, peering at the potion and then at his book. “It looks more burgundy than plum.”

“Clean your glasses,” I suggested sarcastically.

“Ha-ha,” he deadpanned. “But seriously, are we? It should start smelling different about now.”

“Well I wouldn’t know,” I retorted. “I can’t smell anything around this table because someone put on too much cologne this morning.” I snorted and nudged him with my shoulder. He scrunched his eyebrows.

“Well it’d certainly be easier for me to tell if you had backed off on the jasmine body wash,” he said sharply.

I opened my mouth to argue—but stopped.

Someone was giggling behind us.

I used jasmine body wash usually, yes, but I’d run out over the summer and hadn’t had time to get more so I’d brought my back-up bottle of strawberry-coconut to school to use till my mum could send me more. I didn’t smell like jasmine at the moment.

As I passed behind Ignis, I took a deep breath through my nose. I couldn’t smell his usual spicy cologne clinging to his robes. Something clean but calmer hit my nostrils in its place. Maybe vanilla?

Oh. My. Word.

A blush spread over my entire face and down my neck. My ears grew warm.

I almost dropped the knife in my hand. I was smelling Ignis’ cologne from the Amortentia.

It took a massive amount of concentration to finish the potion without thinking about what I just realized. I peeked at Ignis every chance I got. Had he… realized the same thing? I didn’t smell like jasmine today.

If he had noticed, he didn’t say anything. Or react.

Great.

^^^^^

“Gladio!” I called, running to catch up to our friend. He was a seventh year Gryffindor and taller than pretty much everyone in the castle—including the teachers. Ignis was pretty tall for sixteen, but Gladiolus looked like he might have had some giant blood in him. He was probably just tall.

“Hey! What’s up?” he asked brightly, giving me a side-arm hug.

“We, uh, we brewed Amortentia in potions today,” I said.

Classes were over and since it was September second, it was still fairly warm outside. I’d caught Gladio heading outside to hang out on the hill and fell into step beside him, intending to join. Wouldn’t get much more time outside once it got cold.

He chuckled. “That so?” he asked.

“Yeah.”

“What’d you smell?”

“Freshly-baked cookies. Rain on pavement. And…” I trailed off and looked at the ground.

“And?” Gladio prompted good-naturedly.

I cleared my throat. “Ignis’ cologne.”

Gladio burst out into laughter. “Ohhh, that just made my day,” he said, throwing his arm around my shoulders again and giving me a tight squeeze. “I have been waiting for this day for so long!”

I scrunched my eyebrows. “What do you mean? What are you talking about?”

“Oh come on!” Gladio protested, flopping down onto the hill and yanking me by the sleeve of my robe to sit next to him. “You and Iggy have been crushing on each other since you were, like, first years, Constellatio.”

I squeaked. “Have not!”

“Have too!”

“What are we arguing about?” Ignis asked, dropping his bag down onto the grass and taking a seat on my other side.

Gladio waved a hand dismissively. “Nothing,” he said.

“Hey guys!” a new voice shouted. Two figures slipped a bit down the hill and scrambled to get back up to us. Noctis and Prompto. Both of them with their yellow-lined robes dropped over their arms so they only wore their dress shirts, ties, and slacks since it was pretty warm outside. “Guess what?” Prompto was the one that had spoken. His eyes were bright and his hair seemed messier than usual.

“What?” Ignis, Gladio, and I all asked at the same time with varying degrees of curiosity and enthusiasm. Noctis and Prompto were two years younger than me and Ignis and three years younger than Gladio but still managed to surprise us with their shenanigans.

“I asked out Cindy Aurum—and she said yes!” Prompto exclaimed.

I started laughing. Gladio did too. Ignis was smiling.

“That’s awesome, Prompt,” I said. “I'm excited to hear how it goes.”

“As am I,” Ignis agreed thoughtfully.

Noctis plopped down on the grass below us. “Speaking of,” he said. “When are you two going to go on a date?” He pointed between Ignis and me.

“What?!” Ignis and I asked at the same time.

“C’mon. It’s clear you two are crushing on each other. Just have a butterbeer at the Three Broomsticks next Hogsmeade weekend and get it over with. I'm sick of watching the two of you pine after each other. I swear every longing glance is shaving a year off my life,” Noctis complained.

Nothing like the honesty of an angsty fourteen-year-old.

Ignis’ ears turned red. He looked away from Noctis and I—and sharply paused. “Wait,” he said, whirling back to look at me. “Why do you smell like strawberries and coconut?”

“I ran out of jasmine body wash over the summer,” I admitted.

“So what was I… in potions… oh my goodness,” he muttered. “The Amortentia.”

I cleared my throat. “Yup. Same on this end,” I said.

Gladio jerked his head at Prompto and Noctis. The three of them got to their feet and moved away from us to another part of the hill.

“When you say, ‘Same on this end,’ what exactly do you mean?” Ignis asked, staring at the Black Lake and the giant squid’s tentacles lazily flapping around at the third years pestering it instead of meeting my eyes.

“Your cologne. The cookies you baked for me over the summer when I visited your place,” I said.

“Perhaps… perhaps Noct has a good idea. Would you… care to accompany me to Hogsmeade this coming weekend trip?”

I curled my knees up to my chest. “Yeah,” I said, watching the lake too. “Yeah I’d like that.”

“Splendid. It’s settled then.”

I leaned over and pecked him on the cheek. “Yeah,” I said.

He looked surprised. “You missed,” he said.

“What? I don’t miss,” I retorted.

Ignis had a pianist’s hands—long elegant fingers. He set one on the side of my face so I had to look him in the eyes. “You missed,” he insisted, leaning closer.

I closed the distance. “Fine,” I breathed. Ignis smirked and pressed his lips to mine.

“SEE?! I TOLD YOU GUYS!” Noctis shouted from somewhere behind me. I snickered and tilted my head to the side for a better angle. Ignis copied me.

[jihyeojin]

Flame in the Shadow: Chapter 2

When Azriel arrived at the House of Mist the next morning, he was confused.

       The night before, he went on his usual flight, the one to clear his head, and felt a strange presence in the forest near the City of Starlight. Not a threatening one, for if that were the case he would have taken out the Truth Teller and seen what was below. It was a sort of fluttering in his chest, one that he never experienced so strongly. He felt like he should have known what it was, but then again, he wasn’t really good about confronting his feelings.       

       So when Az felt that flutter on the top of the pine tree he was resting on, he abruptly stretched his wings and headed back to Velaris.

       His general confusion only grew when Cassian dropped a pile of blades onto the dining table at breakfast.

       Az was sitting across from Mor, who reached to grab a bowl of fruit, when Cassian decided to plop weapons between them.

      Mor was not amused.

     “Right in front of my berries?” she exclaimed with an annoyed look.

      Cassian just waved her off and plucked a serrated blade from the table. “Look what we have here,” he said as waved the blade in front of Azriel’s face.  

     “What is the meaning of this?” Az asked as he took the blade from Cassian’s waving hand.

      Cass had a stupid grin plastered on his face. “This is what Zo brought me from her hut.” He gestured to the pile.

      Zo, short for Zoraida, was one of Cass’ best Iryllian fighters. She had a disproportionate body (her wings were far too big for her tiny frame) and the face of a fifteen-year-old, but she was agile, stubborn, and fierce; the perfect way to deceive ongoing attackers.

     Cauldron help those who underestimate her.

    “And why are Zo’s blades on the breakfast table?” Az persisted, which earned Cass a similar look from Mor.

    “Because—“ he clapped Az on the back, making him grunt. “You two, along with everyone else, are going hunting.”

     Mor stabbed a strawberry with her fork. “What the hell are you talking about?”

     Only then did Az realize that Cass was in full Iryllian armor. He even had the siphons, all seven of them. “Cassian?” he asked. 

     Cass’ grin faded. “Well, the thing is—”

    “Cassian.”

    “Zo said she saw something while she was sharpening her knives. It’s probably nothing—“

    “If it’s nothing then why are you in full body armor—?” said Mor.

    “Cassian,” Az’s shadows perked up. “When was this?”

    “Last night, by the woods.”

    “The woods…” Az stiffened.

    “She said it was a blur of gray. Not like a Suriel, it was crouched down and had no legs, just clawed arms. And looked like it was made of smoke and shadow.”

     Smoke and shadow. That was oddly specific. Az has heard of monsters made of night, but this was unlike something that was encountered. “You seem very casual about this.”

     Cass merely shrugged. “Like I said, probably nothing. Zo said it wasn’t that big. And there hasn’t been anything for the past sixty years.”

     That’s exactly what Az was concerned about.

     Mor rose up from her seat. “And what exactly is your plan?”

     Cass picked up two blades. “We search for it, see what the hell it is and what it wants, and then just go on from there.”

     Not exactly an organized plan, but what else can you do? 

     Az straightened and rose up from his seat. “When do we start?”

     Cass’ wicked smile returned. “Now.” ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Mor wasn’t happy about not finishing her breakfast.

     Az heard her mumbling about stupid Cassian and his stupid hunting and the stupid thing that was the root of this problem. She was even less excited about dressing in her fighting armor at this time in the morning. 

    “If it’s no big deal then why are we dragged into this?” she asked once they were at the forest’s edge.

    “Because,” Cass twirled the serrated blade he showed them earlier. “if I’m forced to do this, I’m taking you all with me. Besides, you’ve all been getting lazy.”

     Az rolled his eyes. “I’m telling Amren you said that.”

    “Like hell you are. Besides, she’s not coming.”

    “I see,” said Mor. “Threaten to eat you alive when you proposed this idea?”

     “She doesn’t scare me… that much”

     “That’s the biggest lie you've ever told.”

      Cass is most definitely afraid of Amren, but he’s not going to admit it (even though it was obvious). 

     Feyre and Rhys arrived together, both dressed in fighting leathers. 

     “This better not be a joke,” said Rhys.

      Cass barked a laugh. “What, are you too pompous for some dirty work at this hour?”

     “If it gets me out of this stupidity, then yes,” 

     “Nice try, High Lord,”    

     “I didn’t even try.”

     “Yes you did,” said Feyre with a smile.

      Finally, Zo came with two hunting knives, armor, and her brown curls in a ponytail. Az keeps forgetting how short she is (even shorter than Amren).

     “Here to gawk at my height, anyone?” Cass opened his mouth, and Zo quickly said “Don’t answer that,” 

     “I was only going to comment about how unfair it is that you have the largest wingspan.” 

     She stretched her wings to their full wingspan for effect and smirked. Cass took out his tongue and then positioned himself in front of the forest. Everyone else did the same.

     Az cleared his throat. “What exactly are we up against?”

     Zo’s serpentine smile grew wider and her eyes shone like her blades in the sun. “We’ll soon find out.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Helene’s villa was covered in vines, inside and out. 

     Her own vines, of course, for she had the power to manipulate the earth around her. 

     Sarai, one of her sisters, found them to be unnecessary and was constantly annoyed whenever she tripped over them in the middle of the night to get a glass of water (which happened last night). Helene thought they added character.

     They remind her of what she truly is. 

     So when Helene woke and saw nothing but green, she smiled softly and then remembered.

     Last night was still fresh in her mind. The golden flowers, the Iryllian male…

     The flutter of her chest once he left. 

     Helene couldn’t explain it, but she knew it was there. It haunted her thoughts, her dreams, her skin. She probably would have kept thinking about it if she didn't have something to do today. 

     She rose and crossed her bedroom to retrieve the basket that Grace, her other sister, had handwoven. It was made of beige straw and smelled of her sister: lilacs, roses, and sunshine. 

     Helene exited her room, using her powers to move the vines out of her way, and went to wake her siblings. Her brother Xander was already awake by the time she arrived and sensed what was going on. Grace needed a light shake on her shoulder in order for her to be woken up. 

     Sarai, however, slept like a bear during hibernation.  

     She was snoring, every breath lifting a dark curl from her face. A tap on the shoulder wouldn’t do, so Helene thought of something else.

     After filling the basket with pieces of jewels (that she conjured from the soil), Helene threw the whole thing at Sarai’s face. 

    Sarai woke with a face full of rubies and a heart full of anger for her sister.   

    “What the hell!” she yelled.

    “Get up, we’re going.”

    “Where?”

     Helene picked up her basket. “Velaris.” ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ In the woods there was a creature of smoke and shadow.

     It fed on the fear of its victims and continues to eat until bones are left to dust.

     It could sense every creature in the forest: the owls in the trees, the insects in the dirt, the hunters of the nearby city.

     The creature crouched on a bed of flowers; golden ones, which were strange. It stared at the city in the distance and waited to make its next move. It couldn’t just barge in; not after that girl spotted him in the woods (he considered taking her as a prize, but it knew that she would put up one hell of a fight). It needed an easier target, someone wounded or…

      A child.

     The thing swiftly veered from the golden blossoms, which were slowly turning to ash, and appeared at the base of Velaris in a matter of seconds. Not many fae were out in this area (perhaps because there were no shops, only houses). It scanned the area and found something to prey on.

      In the window of a nearby house, a young boy sat on the edge of his bed with an older girl, who was ushering him to keep silent. They looked ready to leave the house. Alone. 

      So the creature positioned itself, retracted its crescent-shaped claws, and waited.  

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Thanks for reading! Here ya go @christina-dh. On another note, the spacing is extra, but whatever

[littlemissheartfilia]

Light Up My Night

Hello all!! I’m alive and still writing wow shocker right? This is a Stingue fic that has been sitting in my WIP doc for longer than I care to remember. And since I’m not updating What’s In A Prince anytime soon I figured this will do. Don’t worry the whole thing is written and finished so updates won’t take forever. It’s only a two-chapter though. Either way I have put a lot of revision into this so I hope you’ll love it!

Parts:   [1]    [2]

Summary: Sting Eucliffe is a senior now and finally has to face his one and maybe only chance to ask his high school crush out. With the help of Minerva and Yukino things get a little more than nervewracking.

Parings: Stingue, Yukinerva, Mentioned Fraxus

Setting: Modern day high school au.

Text Messages

Sting sat in a quiet room, staring blankly at the last page of homework he had for the night. He sighed. Homework was the bane of his existence. It was bad enough that chemistry wasn’t his strongest subject but it was eleven at night and he could hardly keep his attention for more than ten seconds.

He glanced at his phone for the twentieth time that night. It was tempting him like there was no tomorrow. ‘What’s the harm of a little mental break’ The distracted half of his brain told him, but the better half of his brain reminded him that he had just had a mental break that consisted of two hours on social media and not an inch of the page completed. He picked up the phone anyway.

After checking social media, that had literally not changed at all since he last looked at it, he decided to see if Rogue was still awake.

Hey you awake? He waited a few seconds, staring at the screen and hoping for a reply. His fingers typed out a second message, If yes, can you come and smash my head into a wall. Chemistry homework is killing me…

It was a few seconds of staring at the ceiling before a ~DING~ sounded, signaling Rogue’s reply. He looked at the text. If you had paid attention in class today maybe your homework would be done already.

Why pay attention when I have you? What’s the answer to question 20?

Question 20 is a short essay if I gave you my answer it’d be copying and we’d both get in trouble.

C’mon, can’t you just change it up a little? That way it’s not REALLY copying!

Sting could practically see the roll of eyes and deadpanned look Rogue was giving his phone right now.

One of these days you’re gonna have to be more responsible. Sting was thinking of a reply when Rogue sent another message. Why are you up this late doing homework anyway? We had two weeks to get that paper done.

Sting grimaced when he recalled everything he had done for the past two weeks, all of it consisting of nothing but procrastinating in any way he could. He had even finally cleaned out his car the day before as an excuse not to do the paper.

Well, ya see...The thing about that is, I was pretty busy all week! He wasn’t fooling anyone.

Which translates into ‘I’m lazy and don’t wanna do my homework’

Wow you read my mind. You know me so well. Rogue replied with his usual bored faced emoji. Well I’m not getting anywhere with this homework so...wanna go for a walk with me?

Sting, it’s nearly midnight. We have school tomorrow.

Yeah but you’re a night owl anyway and we won’t be out for long!

He could almost hear the exasperated sigh that came from Rogue’s lips. He already knew what his answer was going to be before he replied, he knew Rogue would come.

Fine. But this better be worth it.

“Yes!” He said aloud, quietly enjoying his victory. After sending a quick reply Sting got off the bed, completely abandoning his still unfinished homework. He got dressed and opened the window to his room. Thank god he had convinced his dad to let him have the ground floor bedroom. It made it so much easier to leave undetected. Not that his dad knew that, or ever would.

Sting met Rogue in their usual spot, the meeting point halfway between both of their houses, on a normally quiet suburban street under the light of the lampposts. Seeing Rogue in person somehow made Sting’s breath quicken. He was wearing black skinny jeans with his dad’s overcoat protecting him from the winter air. But what really drew Sting’s attention was that cursed ponytail of his. The way his chin length black hair just fell over the back of his neck had him entranced and the way his bangs hung freely, a little bit messy but tame too, like a mild bedhead. Sting could only think about how hot it made him look. And those reading glasses that framed his face perfectly were taking his breath away. Sting was a sucker for guys in glasses and he guessed Rogue hadn’t bothered to put his contacts in like normal, so he could be blessed with his favorite sight.

God, I’m hopeless aren’t I, he thought. He knew he had a crush on Rogue. He had known since freshman year of high school and yet here he was, both of them seniors and he had yet to ask out the love of his life. Looking at Rogue now he didn’t think he would. Love is a complicated thing and the last thing he wanted was to ruin their good friendship.

Rogue’s face was unsurprisingly emotionless. As he approached Sting though, he noticed those red orbs of his growing a little softer in his expression.

“Glad you came.” Sting started the greeting.

“Like I had a choice. I’ve learned you can be extremely persistent when you want something.”

“But you don’t mind it anyway,” Sting said, a grin spreading across his face as he walked, his company falling into step beside him.

Rogue didn’t bother giving him an answer. For a while they walked in silence. Sting had no words to say that Rogue didn’t already know and he didn’t feel a need to say anything either. They were comfortable that way. Another thing Sting didn’t want to ruin. When they finally reached the park a question popped into his mind.

“So, are you gonna sign up to be prom king?”

“What’s the point.” Rogue replied, not breaking his attention from the path in front of him. “I don’t have a date, I hate dances, and I’m pretty sure you’d be the only one to vote for me.”

“Aw c’mon, Rogue,” Sting pleaded. “You only get one prom. Besides what if you actually are chosen for prom king?”

Rogue scoffed. “Then they’ll be s-o-l ‘cause I’m not going.”

“There’s no changing your mind, huh?” Rogue shook his head, confirming Sting’s question. “Not even if I go with ya?”

Rogue hesitated for a moment then looked at Sting, curiously. “You seem unusually interested in this. Why?”

Rogue raised his eyebrow and the little pout he did was so damn cute that Sting had to stop himself from blushing by covering it up with laughter. “I just think it’d be fun, is all!”

Rogue made a pfft sound with his lips. “Sure. I’ll sign up for prom king when you agree to be prom queen.” He was being sarcastic, that was clear enough in his tone. Still Sting took it to the next level, wondering how far he could push the boy.

“What if I already did?” he said as he looked over and gave him a mischievous smirk. Rogue stopped in his tracks.

“You didn’t?”

Sting just shrugged, reveling in his friends confused but mostly surprised face for a few seconds before saying. “Nah! I’m just messing with ya!” Rogue rolled his eyes and kept walking.

By the end of the night it seemed they had talked for hours. Rogue checked his phone, it had only been two hours but he followed that up by saying he had to get home and sleep.

So Sting and Rogue parted once more by the lamppost. As Rogue walked away, his mind went back to their conversation of the prom. This was their senior year and it was almost over! He’d waited so damn long for any sign that Rogue liked him back but the guy was too damn unreadable. Sting could never tell if he actually liked him. Even if he didn’t Sting couldn’t let their last year in high school go by without saying something. He wondered how hard it would actually be to sign up for Prom Queen...Maybe if he talked to the principal and got enough of his friends to back him up it’d be possible. Maybe then he would finally have the courage to fess up. And the idiocy to expose himself to relentless ridicule and embarrassment from just about everyone else he knew.

But maybe him and Rogue...He shook his head. He was just thinking romantically again, Rogue probably didn’t like him like that. Besides Sting had never seen Rogue with anyone, he wasn’t even sure that his friend was gay, or on the spectrum at all. Sting turned around and quietly walked back to his place.

When he plopped down onto his bed, after shoving all other items off it including his phone and laptop, he just lay there in thought. It looked like it was gonna be another sleepless night for him.

“Yukino, you gotta help me!” Sting shouted while running up to his silver headed friend. She was sitting with her girlfriend, Minerva, eating lunch by a tree outside the lunch hall. For all his years of high school, and probably even before, Minerva and Yukino had been his biggest supporters of his crush on Rogue. Many times they had tried to set up a scene but Sting would chicken out at the last minute or mess up his line, scared of making Rogue uncomfortable.

Both girls turned as he ran up to them, out of breath and bent over panting. Sting was never the athletic type and a run from the main buildings to the opposite side of the campus was a long one.

“Sting? What’s wrong?” Yukino began. While her head was turned Minerva stole a strawberry from her lunch box, Sting ignored it.

He straightened up, finally taking a deep breath and saying; “I wanna ask Rogue to go to prom with me!”

Yukino’s expression changed to one of sympathy, and it looked like Minerva was just barely refusing the urge to roll her eyes.

“Well if you really want to ask him you should just say it. You know Rogue would want you to be honest with him,” said Yukino. Sting nodded his head and took a seat with his legs crossed right in front of them. He placed his arms on his knees and closed his eyes as if in a serious meditation process.

“Yeah, and we all know how well that went down last year at winter carnival.” The last time Sting tried to ask Rogue to a dance it ended up with his face in some poor students lunch tray and all ten pages of Rogue’s award winning essay flying in the breeze through an open window. It was a long story. But he never did hear the end of Rogue’s riot act for losing that essay.

Yukino faked a laugh for pity’s sake. “Well, that is true.”

It was Minerva’s turn to speak up. When she did she grabbed Sting’s shoulders and forced him to look at her. “Listen, Yukino’s right, if you really want Rogue to go to the dance with you just ask him! A simple question isn’t gonna ruin anything. And don’t be a coward!” She wagged her finger in his face, speaking the last words with conviction.

Sting crossed his arms. “Easy for you to say, no one cares about a lesbian relationship! Just last week Freed tried to come out and got a slushie thrown in his face!”

“But those kids weren’t even from our school.” Yukino reminded him. “And remember what Laxus did to them after they pulled that stunt.” Sting remembered well. It was all the school could talk about, and still talked about. Laxus hadn’t left any one of those guys without a bruise, and it seemed a relationship between the two was still up in the air.

“Yeah but Rogue isn’t Laxus and neither am I. Besides, I don’t even know if Rogue likes guys! He’s never showed an interest in anyone!”

“Anyone but you,” Yukino said, matter of factly. It was spoken quietly but Sting had picked up on it and stared at her in confusion.

Minerva chimed in; “Tell me you’ve noticed the way he looks at you when you’re both in class?”

Sting shrugged, the girls groaned. “I tried asking him to prom last night, or rather asking if he was going. He said he wasn’t even interested. I figured if I could at least ask him to a dance maybe I wouldn’t chicken out again…” Minerva’s brow was furrowed for a while, deep in thought. “What?” Sting asked, confused at her lack of words.

“I think I have a plan, and one that you can’t back out of!” Sting’s eyes widened with rapt attention as Minerva leaned in closer to explain. “Ok, all you have to do is get Rogue to go to prom with you, not as a date, not yet anyway. Just convince him it’ll be fun to go. Yukino and I will take care of the rest.”

Sting raised an eyebrow. “Oookaay…” Then he perked up, eager to listen, “What’s your plan, then?”

Minerva gave an evil grin, “It’s not gonna work right if you know too. Just get Rogue to come to prom. I promise it’ll be worth it!” She winked and gave him a thumbs up. Just then the late bell for his classes rang.

“Shit! I’ll be late for class again!” He cried and stood up with a running start toward the building. “See ya later, guys!” He called back to Yukino and Minerva, yelling out a, “I haven’t even done the homework!” in his existential crisis to get to chemistry.

When he finally recovered his bag from his locker and made it to the chemistry door he had to witness every eye in class staring at him as he awkwardly knocked on the locked door. The chemistry professor, a tall elderly women who held a deadly eagle eye glare, opened the door with a scowl. She didn’t move from the doorway as she spoke with him.

“Why are you late, Mr. Eucliffe?”

“I’m sorry, Ms. Porlyusica. I forgot my textbook in one of my classes and had to go back to get it.” It was a poor excuse but one she seemed to take with only an intensified frown. She didn’t say anything else, just stepped aside to let Sting in. Then she took her spot back in front of the class.

Sting dropped his bag by his usual seat next to Rogue and sat down with a sigh, putting his head on his arms in defeat.

“That’s a lie ‘cause I have your textbook right here.” Rogue leaned in and whispered into his ear.

Sting perked up when he was handed his book. “What! I thought I lost that, where was it?”

“Under your desk as always, idiot.”

Sting took his textbook and hugged it to his chest. “You’re a lifesaver!”

“You can thank me later. Class is starting.”

So Rogue said, but Sting could hardly pay attention. Not with his red glasses that matched his eyes and every five minutes when he subconsciously tucked another piece of his bangs behind his ear as he took notes. Once again that ponytail Rogue had started to favor was Sting’s arch nemesis.

In the middle of her lecture, Ms. Porlyusica stopped to announce his distraction to the whole class. “Mr. Eucliffe!” She began, her voice filling up the otherwise quiet room. “If you paid half as much attention to this class as you pay to your friend over there maybe you wouldn’t be failing!”

A few kids in class snickered, some others looked at him with remarks of ‘ouch’ and sympathetic faces. Rogue was distracted from his papers where he was writing down notes and looked at Sting in confusion. He felt his face grow hot and imagined he must look so red, the thought only made it worse. Sting slunk down in his chair, picked up his pencil, and started to write notes from the board in his notebook. He mumbled out a, “Sorry, Ms. Porlyusica.” Then kept writing, making sure to avoid eye contact with Rogue, and everyone else.

So he had survived chemistry class, and thankfully Rogue didn’t bring up the subject of Ms. Porlyusica’s outburst. Sting kept quiet for the rest of the day, saving himself from further embarrassment.

It took it’s sweet time but finally school ended. Sting waved a goodbye back to his classmates, Natsu and Gajeel, then took off down the hallway. Hoping to meet Rogue and ask him about prom before he left.

Per the norm Rogue was waiting outside the main doors for Sting. Minerva and Yukino were chatting with him while Ogra, Rufus, Dobengal and Dhoot, one the newest members to the school and one with a very strange nickname, were chatting a few feet away.

“Took you long enough.” Rogue teased with a sly smile as Sting walked up to them.

“Shuddup! Not my fault your class lets out ten minutes early.”

Rogue chuckled. Sting wanted desperately to say something about prom but he couldn’t find the words to change the subject and choked up instead. It seemed that’s what friends were for as Yukino put his thoughts into words.

“So, are you guys going to prom?”

Rogue didn’t answer immediately and Minerva interjected with a playful, “You better be! Everyone else is going and it wouldn’t be the same if we didn’t end the school year with each other.”

“When you put it that way, it makes it hard for me to refuse,” said Rogue with a slight frown. “But you know I’m not the dress up type, and dances were never my thing.”

“Then we’ll just stand in the corner all night, who cares!” Sting found the courage to speak up. “We only have one prom! We should spend it together.”

“Fine, but I’m not going to dance.” Even as Rogue said it Sting could see a small smile lighting up his face, which in turn made his own smile wider.

The group talked for a while longer, as they always did at the end of the school day, then said their goodbyes. As Sting was driving home there was only one thing on his mind. Where he was gonna find a tux for prom night.

[thefreckledone]

fluff friday (saturday) “ghibli/runaway” {keep yourself a secret} [narusaku]

dedicated to @obsessed-lass who reminds me of my love of narusaku when I first read naruto. you’re great!

this is a castle in the sky au that I want to expand when I have time. I have the worst time management skills, lol.

“You sure you’ve got this under control?”

“You can count on me!” Sakura exclaims, hefting buckets filled with coal onto her shoulders. “Go on! I know Asuma wants you home in time for dinner.”

Kurenai chuckles, eyes soft as she ruffles Sakura’s hair. “He does kick up quite a fuss if I’m not home when the station actually closes. Should I bring you some of his pastries tomorrow?” She grins. “If I tell him it’s for you he’ll even bake them fresh.”

“You’ve got yourself a deal! Will he make—”

“The berry tart with extra strawberries? Of course,” Kurenai says before tossing the keys to Sakura. “I expect you here bright and early to open up. Hiruzen will panic if we aren’t up and running on time.”

“Got it!”

Sakura watches as Kurenai takes the elevator out of what is affectionately termed “The Pit,” before returning to her task. She dumps the coal into the bins by the trains, prepping for the bustle of the coming day. Sakura places the buckets back in the closet and snatches up the ring of keys.

Sakura cannot keep from grinning as she weighs the keys in her hand, looking over all the myriad of sizes and shapes to them. There are thirty-seven keys in all and her absolute favorite is the large bronze key that locks the gate. It is an old key and oxidized in a way that makes most of it appear green.

She feels stately and otherworldly as she turns the key in the gate, locking the passage between the station and the railroads. Sakura loops the key ring into her belt, grinning as they thump musically against her thigh as she walks.

A high-pitched, whining noise makes her pause. Sakura looks up, blinking as a red light descends from the sky.

A shooting star?

No, she can tell as it comes closer that the light is emitting from a necklace worn by a boy.

Sakura races in his direction, climbing the slope to one of the many precarious balances that cross above the Pit. They’ve been expanding the station, have been for years and the work is never done.

With an ease born of experience, Sakura steps out onto the plank and eyes the boy’s descent. She positions herself beneath it, balancing and bracing herself to catch him.

Sakura squints against the gleam of his necklace as he descends fully into her arms. The necklace’s glow fades and Sakura gets a better look at the boy.

He is unconscious and dressed oddly in garish hues of orange and blue. His face is strangely marked with lines on each cheek but Sakura is more focused on his hair. It is the color of sunlight.

Sakura cradles him close, listening attentively to the creaking of the board beneath her as she moves back to safer ground.

When she turns her face back to the boy, crystalline blue eyes meet her.

The boy is awake.

“Who are you?” he asks, squirming out of her grasp.

“I’m Sakura. Are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” he blusters, brushing off his clothes. He glances away and back again before bending over in a formal bow. “Thank you. My name is Naruto. I’m not completely sure how I came to be here, but I’m grateful.”

“Of course,” she replies, flustered by the antiquated gesture. They stand in silence for a moment before Sakura says, “Do you have anywhere to stay the night?”

He opens his mouth, falters, and shakes his head.

“Would you like to stay with me?” Sakura asks. “You can take my bed for the night.”

His face splits in a smile so bright that Sakura loses her breath. “That would be wonderful, thank you.”

And that is how Sakura meets Naruto.

“Who are they?” Sakura asks, ducking back behind her house. She eyes the men in long black coats embellished in red clouds with suspicion. They don’t fit into the sleepy town of Konoha.

“Pirates,” Naruto spits the word and it is the most vitriolic thing Sakura has heard out of his mouth. “They’re called Akatsuki. They want the treasures of Uzushio.”

Sakura tightens her mouth and firms her stance as she catches the flicker of fear in his eyes. “They’ve chased you before?”

He hesitates for a brief moment before nodding.

“Okay,” Sakura says. “Give me a second.”

She ducks back into her house, heading into the room on the second floor. She listens to the soft hooting and cooing from the owls, all in various stages of sleep. Sakura opens their cages and sends up a brief prayer for their safety.  

Sakura goes back out to Naruto, taking his hand in hers. “I’ll protect you from the pirates,” she promises rashly. “We’ll need to go into town. I have to give Kurenai the keys and hopefully we can shake them in the crowd.”

Naruto nods, not looking all that pleased with the plan but trusting her regardless. Something in Sakura is warmed by the notion, but she is quickly distracted with slipping past Akatsuki unseen.

Something goes wrong along the way, an unsure foot along the cobble, a perceptive glance around, something happens in a way that the tall blue one looks upon them with a disturbing grin.

“Konan, I found them!”

Sakura mutters the word Asuma said once when all of the pies burned while they were playing cards.

Naruto looks impressed.

“Come on!” Sakura hisses, dragging Naruto into the morning crush of people.

“Sakura!” Kurenai exclaims. “What on earth is going on?”

“This is Naruto,” Sakura says. “There are some bad people after him. I’m going to help.”

There is pride coloring Kurenai’s voice as she says, “I expected nothing less.” She draws Sakura into a brisk, warm hug. “Go on. Asuma and I will take care of them.”

“Thanks, Kurenai!” Sakura replies, bussing a kiss across her cheek before passing her the keys. “You need these more than I do but don’t worry; I’ll be back soon!”

Kurenai looks at them, rather, she looks at Naruto. “I’m not so sure you will be, dear.”

“C’mon,” Naruto says, tightening his hold on Sakura’s hand, brushing past Kurenai, and ducking into the nearby alley.

“Naruto!” Sakura scolds as she picks up her pace to keep up with him. “That was quite rude!”

“Sorry,” he mutters, casting his eyes about. “I’m just worried. I don’t want to be a burden to you.”

Sakura squeezes his hand. “You aren’t a burden! You’re my friend. Besides, my parents always believed in Uzushio.” She pats the map at her belt. “They’d be proud to know I’m keeping up the search.”

Naruto smiles. “It’ll be an adventure.”

“The very best,” Sakura says firmly. “First, however, we need to get away from the pirates. I think the train station is our best bet.”

“Didn’t you give the keys to Kurenai?” Naruto asks, following her as she begins to weave among the maze of buildings.

“Yeah but Hiruzen has a set himself. He always gets there before dawn and opens the train station. He always complains when we show up on time, saying that we’re late.” Sakura giggles.

“Sounds like quite a guy,” Naruto says.

“He’s the best.”

Sakura guides Naruto along her favorite path into the Pit, mindful of her surroundings. It still comes as a surprise, however, when Naruto is tackled to the ground.

“Running away was quite naughty!” an angry voice declares and Sakura prepares herself to yank the boy off of Naruto.

She stops, however, when she sees his face.

He has Naruto’s face. If not for his eyes and hair, Sakura would call them mirror images.

“Who are you?” she demands, gathering herself and pushing him free of Naruto.

“Menma of Fire,” he replies, red eyes cool and distant. He looks her over and sniffs, clearly finding her lacking. “And who are you, urchin?”

“None of your business!” Naruto declares, hopping back on his feet. His nose is bleeding but his gaze is hard as he stares at Menma. “You need to leave me alone!”

“You need to come with me, Naruto,” Menma says. “Just imagine what we can do together.”

“I already told you no! Why won’t you just leave me alone?” Naruto demands.

Sakura strikes a leg out, sweeping Menma’s feet from beneath him while distracted. He tumbles and, at the sharp angle of the slope, slides far away from him. Sakura winces in sympathy as he catches on hard edges but she doesn’t feel too bad when she sees the relief in Naruto’s eyes.

“Let’s go,” Sakura urges, eyes up on the lip of the Pit. Already, it is dotted with the pirates and men dressed in the same uniform as Menma. For the moment, they seem preoccupied with each other but that won’t remain the case for long. “Hiruzen will be able to help us get out of here.”

Naruto wavers, clutching at the pendant at his throat.

“Naruto,” Sakura says, waiting until he looks at her. Their enemies are closing in around them and they are in a precarious position that requires some finessing. She needs to get them out of here safely. And for that, she needs Naruto. “Naruto, do you trust me?”

Naruto looks at her and for a moment he looks so much older than his twelve years. Sakura feels as if her soul is bared to his eyes, scorched beneath his scrutiny. His hand tightens on the strange pendant and he smiles as he pulls it free from his body.

Sakura knows she’s passed some sort of test, though what kind she couldn’t say.

“It’s strange really,” Naruto says, grabbing her hand and pressing the pendant into it. She feels a shiver go up her spine and, for a moment, the pendant is heavy. The moment passes and Sakura wonders if she just imagined it. “I trust you Sakura.”

Sakura grins. “Good. What I’m about to ask of you is going to require all of that trust.”

Naruto nods, entwining his hand around hers, the pendant firmly sandwiched between them. “I’m ready when you are.”

Breath quickening, Sakura stares at the crane jib and hook that are moving slowly nearby. It is headed their way and Sakura tenses in preparation. She can do this. “When I say jump, jump.”

Naruto nods, his confidence in her obvious in his eyes.

Sakura takes a deep breath, tightens her hand on his, and says, “Jump.”

They jump.

[s0nny-l0u-blog]

I did a story thing ??

Chapter 1: Love When he smiled, lightening shown. When he laughed thunder crackled. He looked down at her, moved a golden strand from her face. “Oh how lovely,” his deep voice coed, “even when so distraught and scared, you still hold so much more beauty than that of the woman you worship.” She was so still you would have thought her dead, if not for the stream of water leaving her eyes. Thunder echoed, and so did his voice, “ I really wish you would have made it easier,” he sat up from off the cold concrete,”some woman would die to have a god love them, as much as I have loved you.” He looked down at her and smirked, “Oh fair Medusa, I bid thee farewell,” She could feel his gaze and instinctively closed her eyes. He sneered, stood up and adorned his robe. He walked away, and the next few moments, as he left, felt like the removal of tar from her skin. “Thank you for all the fun.” And with that he descended to the sea. With a cry loud enough to challenge, thunder she began to weep. She clung to her hair, and pulled so tightly on it to be free of the other pains harboring within her. Her knees instinctively moved in towards her bare chest. As she moved her arms to embrace her knees, she stopped and remembered where she was. Immediately her tears seized. Quickly, she grabbed her garments and pulled them tightly to her bare chest. Her eyes met the dark and cold pavement, she clenched them, “Oh my dear goddess Athena,” she gasped “please forgive your humble servant. I have defiled the very ground you have sanctified, shattered the vow I made to thee, but my most beautiful mistress, you see it is not my fau-” Thunder silenced her words. The statue above her seemed to glare down at her. A velvet voice whispered all around her “Oh faithful Medusa, no more words. I know what has happened here,” Medusa looked up eyes gleaming with hope, she opened her mouth to speak but was silenced “you have broken your vow of chastity to me, and with a god no less. I now here by strip you of your priestess status, and curse you with a head of snakes, and from now on every man that looks upon your face whether he be mortal or god shall turn to stone. Leave here, do not come back.” With a deep breath, she stood on her own to feet and bowed towards the statue. Ever since she was a child, Medusa wondered if she would ever hear the beautiful voice of Athena, little did she know it would be under such awful circumstances. It was still just as eloquent as she had hoped. Medusa began to pull her robe over her head as she hastily headed towards the stairs, but before her feet even touched the dirt path, she felt a chill around her ankle. At first she dismissed it but the cold began to creep up her calf. She slowly stopped at the top of the stairs and looked down at her foot. At least ten snakes were climbing up her calf. With one deep breath she shook her leg but the snakes did not flee from her leg, or even bite her for that matter. Before she could blink twice the snakes were making their way up her torso, and now their numbers had multiplied. She jumped, shook her body, twirled, but that did not remove snakes, instead it sent her body down the flight of stairs. By the time her body was laying on the ground, she was covered in blood, whether it was hers or that of the snakes now imbedded in her head, she had no clue. Her head pounded and her body only slightly ached. She laid on the ground, closed her eyes, as the snakes screamed in her ears. She reflected and wondered on why it had to be her of all people, who worshipped Athena. She reflected on the very first time she ever saw the statue of Athena. She was maybe 5 at the time, it was a spring morning and her parents had brought her to the temple to bring offerings. Her parents were handing over a basket of fruits, when she caught glimpse of Athena. She was dressed in battle armor, an owl was perched on her shoulder, and she was staring out towards the city of Athens. Medusa was instantly mesmerized. Her mother caught sight of Medusa’s amazement, and quietly knelt beside her daughter. Her mother then began to talk about the amazing and wonderful things Athena had done for the world in which she stood on. When it came time to leave Medusa vowed to come back every day, to be nearer to the goddess who had stolen her heart. As time went on the priestess became to familiar with Medusa that they let her clean the temple, at night. Medusa even began to collect sacrifices from those entered the place. At the age of 10 Medusa began to work the offerings herself. Through all of the hard work a menial tasks, it was nothing to her. Infact she only wished she could do more to show her love for Athena. Medusa spent most of her time as a teen in the temple of Athena, she spent so much time there that her only friends were the priestesses there and the regulars of the temple. At the age of 16 she became a full fledged, recognized, priestess. It was only 4 years later that she was now doomed to a life of solitude. Remembering that she was still on the ground, Medusa got up and slowly limped her way towards a nearby creek. The creek was only 2 feet wide, and about a foot deep. Medusa got down on her knees and began bringing the water to her head. As she started scrubbing at the blood on her scalp she caught glimpse of the beast who was staring back at her. She instinctively hit the water, as the water lapped back and forth, Medusa began to cry softly. She kept her eyes locked on her reflection. Her nose had become longer than the petite one she once knew. Her face was now more elongated, and the beauty mark placed under left eye was now a large mole covered, in two protruding hairs. She reluctantly opened her mouth, and not to her surprise her teeth were now skewed. Finally she gazed at what you could call her hair. It was a vast era of colors, mostly dull tan’s and and grey’s, but their was the occasional red strand of yellow one. Leaning closer to the water, she picked up her hair and began to examine the tips, which were the heads of multiple snakes currently at rest. She looked at the tips with her own eyes, and sighed deeply. She continued scrubbing at the parts of her body covered in blood. Once down, she looked back in the direction of where her parents lived. Looking down at her hands, place in her lap, she debated on whether to go to their house or not. If she went there would be no doubt in her mind that her parents would be asleep. If she was quiet enough she could grab some food, maybe even a cloak, before they woke up. The sun would be up in maybe 3 hours. It would take about an hour to get to her parents house, and maybe another hour before she had everything she needed. Her parents would be waking up about an hour before sunrise. If she went, would they wake up before she could leave? If they did wake up, would she be able to sneak out of the house without them knowing, or would they see her and be turned to stone? Her stomach roared. She stared down at it, and in that moment she knew she had to go to her parents house. Not because she was hungry, although it did help persuade her. She needed to go to say goodbye, and she immediately stood up and ran, with all her strength. She kept on looking towards the direction of her parents home. The rain began to pour down on her like bullets, but she never took her eyes off of the path she had in her head. Even when she tripped, her eyes were glued to where she needed to go next. Thoughts began to flood her and make her wonder as to where she may go next. She could possibly take advantage of Poseidon. She scoffed, like he would want her after the deformities she’s just gone through. Although in the back of her head if all else failed she kept in the back of her mind, as a last resort. She could try and swim to the Island of Lesbos, that she had heard of when passing by a wandering poet. THe island was said to be inhabited by women who only loved each other. When Medusa heard of the island she smiled, a bit to know that she was not the only one out there. On second thought an island in the middle of the ocean was probably not the best choice for someone who just, made unpleasant memories with the god of the sea. She finally decided to head to Argos once down at her parents. Her childhood home loomed over head, and she quietly opened the door. It opened to a one room home, the kitchen, was right at her right, and her parents were asleep in the top left corner. She quietly grabbed a cloak near the door and began to fill it up with figs, and lots of them at that. She placed grapes, granola, and a few strawberries inside the cloak. She tied the clock off at the top with a golden band she had on her wrist. She set the bag down at the door, and quietly approached the side of her parents bed. Kneeling down beside it she, gently touched her father's hand. She kissed the tips of her fingers, and placed a kiss on her father’s own hand. She slowly moved her gaze from her father to her mother, who was sleeping closest to the wall. She smiled and tears quietly left her eyes. If only, this moment could last forever. “M- Medusa…?” questioned the soft and tired voice of her mother. Medusa’s eye’s widened and before her hand could cover her eyes, they had already met her mother’s. Medusa gave on weak and struggling smile before her mother was frozen in stone. A look of utter joy was placed on her mother’s frozen face. “Agalia… did you just say Medusa?” her father croaked. Medusa held her head to her father's chest and began to sob, incessantly. “Medusa, my dear what’s wrong?” he glanced at Agalia. “Agalia!” Fear took over his face “What happened? Medusa tell your father at once!” He grabbed ahold of Medusa’s chin and lifted her face to look at him. His face was then and forever more stuck in utter, fear. Medusa flopped her head back on her chest and began to cry even more. She shouldn’t have come. Silly her, for believing that, what her heart wants would be what’s best. SHe rested her chin on the chest of what used to be her father and began to laugh wildly, until her face and vocal chords began to hurt. When her throat gave out on her, she kissed the foreheads of her parents, and quietly left, not stealing one single glance back. Medusa began her quiet journey of solitude, hoping to stay clear of people, most definitely men. As Medusa’s feet trodded towards the woods, she began to wonder if she would ever love anyone as much as she has loved Athena. Athena. She stopped and changed her path to a new one, which headed towards the Athenian temple she was a priestess at. When the sun began to slowly peak over the nearby sea, Medusa was walking up the steps of the temple in Athens dedicated to Athena. While walking up the stairs Medusa stared down at her feet, but once she was passed the temple’s threshold she looked up, checked her peripherals for other people who may be near, no one good. She ran to the base of the statue and put down as many figs as she could spare. Resting her body wait down to her knees, medusa began to shed tears. The life she once knew so well, was gone. She had to start all over, and although it was so terrifying to her, at the time, it turn out to be an amazing experience.