#want to crawl around on all fours with moon type love

[crow-n-tell]

Oh my god its them,,, blorbo from my shows,, , ,,,,, ,,

[lipglossanon]

so i guess my first few 💀 emoji anon being me wanting to get railed by Krauser and Leon and/or Chris is coming full circle because me i maxed out the amount of words you type in an ask for the fifth time 🫣

imagine reader goes camping in the fall, small little secluded campsite a good hike into a forest the locals said she shouldn’t go into and she does anyway. food goes missing, clothes go missing, miscellaneous liquids? on the trees around her campsite, so many little things so she’s concerned about someone being out there with her right,,, so she stays up one night and hears growling and grunting so she peeks out of the tent and sees a wolf like creature tearing open her bag of clothes she lost the other night, and the creature goes through her clothes to find her bra and smells it while his cock twitches and leaks,,,,, grossly fascinated with what she’s seeing she doesn’t realize another one has come up behind her and she screams when she turns to see what was breathing down her neck. crawling out of the tent she’s trapped between the two werewolves now and the one she watched go through her clothes slides his arms under hers and keeps her pinned to his chest while the other one spreads her legs and sniffs her cunt before biting her thigh making her scream and the one holding her laughs and says i think you should’ve been nicer Chris which the other one, Chris, just chuckled before going back to remove your shorts to lazily lap at your clit making you moan causing the one holding you to start marking your neck so you to rut yourself against Chris’s face making him pull away and move up to rip your shirt off saying i think i’d rather you take your time with her Leon before running off so you’re left alone with Leon and he’s absolutely feral marking you, humping your thigh, sucking on your nipples and using his teeth until they bleed you’re just entirely cock drunk before anything’s happened and he knows this as he watches you spread your legs as he strokes his dick a few times, thumb not been close to touching his fingers making you whine when he starts to stretch you out around him and when you try to scoot back he bucks his hips forward bottoming him out instantly making you bleed and scream causing a loud bark from the forest surrounding you as Chris returns with someone else while Leon whispers “maybe listen to the locals when you come out somewhere you shouldn’t be” the new one grabs your thigh and says “maybe put her on her side, let me have a turn” and he does just that putting you on your side both of them in each hole while Chris is fucking your throat and when they’re done they don’t leave and instead take you back to little shack where the new one, you heard them call Krauser says “i can’t believe the locals let her out here during mating season,” Chris agrees while Leon puts his phone away saying “the Full Moon should last another few days” and they should keep you there until it’s done while his eyes rake over your body covered in dried blood and bruises while the conversation becomes muddled as you feel yourself finally relax the last thing you remember hearing is Chris saying they shouldn’t be so hard on you tonight to which Krauser and Leon disagreed (obviously 🤭)

- 💀

(i seriously didn’t think it was that long but i got rid of four paragraphs 👀 and the red text blocks that show up when you max out the text for an ask feel condescending after the sixth time you try to type an ask and it’s still too long lmao but the other four paragraphs were them using her the next night and Leon taking her back to his place after it’s over and they make it a regular trip to meet up with the other two every mating season because there has to be one for werewolves right?)

💀 anon, you’re killing me 🥵 🥵

I love every single bit of this 😩 and they’re absolutely feral since it’s mating season and just 😵‍💫 😵‍💫

And I hate that there’s a word limit on asks cause I’d love to read all your thoughts on it 😭

Just this is a perfect storm of everything that I like 🤭 🤭 (Ive really been sitting on the fence about like a lycan!Chris and reader but idk if I’m ready to write a new RE character lmao)

And also! May I suggest the song Little Red Riding Hood by Sam the Sham and the Pharaohs (which I love lmao) and this more moody cover which is also phenomenal 🤭

[kindledoeswhatever]

(Via Wikipedia)

While this is the third game in the series, it is the first one I played. A friend let me borrow this to play after I got my wisdom teeth out.

I woke up from the surgery, already holding my phone and sending off incomprehensible texts to my friends and was bundled off home by my mom and grandpa. Sadly this was the only ‘silly’ thing I did…. Sigh…. You always see videos of kids being really funny after surgery, I feel robbed~

Anyway. I got home, was placed on the couch, and turned on the game. And then restarted it four times. The silent protagonist Matthew can respond to dialogue with four emotions

(Via IGN)

So for the first choice I wanted to see what each one did. So I’d select it, watch the response, then flick off the power and have to start the whole game over since there wasn’t a save before the first choice. That means four rounds of the unskippable opening crawl. It made me cry from frustration, however I was too out of it to figure out I didn’t have to do this to myself lol.

A year or so later I borrowed the game again to play it when I wasn’t out of my mind on wisdom teeth surgery drugs and it’s really good! The whole series is good actually! I’ve seen people consider it a hidden gem of sorts in the Nintendo exclusive line up and I can see that!

I will always be upset the fourth game never got made…. I think it was probably going to be called “Mourning Moon” due to the reoccurrence of that phrase which is never elaborated on… compared to the Harvest Moon games the shift from 2D to 3D wasn’t as off putting to me because I found the chibi-esq designs quite charming.

The game play is similar to the Final Fantasy games, four person party with turn based combat and world map exploration. Very plot heavy and the plot is Really good.

Matthew and his friends are descendants of the characters from the first two games, after their parents journey fundamentally altered the world, this has long lasting and unforeseen issues. Oops?

Overall I like the cover. The shading is stark and reminiscent of the solar eclipse which is a Huge part of the game. The outlines of the summons in white circling the world, the elemental Jinn floating around (though only 3/4 of the elemental types are here :/) but I Love the golden sheen to Matthew’s scarf it’s fantastic and I could look at it all day!

[ja3honey]

Wolf Ateez x Bunny Hybrid S/O [Part Three]

Genre: Supernatural, Romance, Suggestive, Fluffy, Angst, Smut

Type: Werewolf!Ateez x Bunny Hybrid!Reader

Warnings: Making out, Kissing, Fingering, Mentions of heat, skinny dipping, semi-public, masturbating, hickeys, pain kink? Slight Somnophilia, Oral (Reader receiving), mention of little space, sir kink, I'm a sucker for Jongho's Thighs All the boys are feral for the reader but it's still fluffy.

Note: So many of you wanted a part three but smuttier ahah. so Thank you to everyone that sent in asks for this. Enjoy

I also tried to keep it as Gender Neutral as possible given my other parts to this mini series were more on that scale but some descriptions may lean to an Afab.

Part One | Part Two | Part Four

Hongjoong

You woke up feeling strange but decided to brush it off, but as the day progressed you began to feel hot, inside and out. You couldn’t focus, all you wanted was Hongjoong. But he was very busy, he had a big meeting with some other pack leaders about borders so he couldn’t see you.

The heat was becoming too much to handle, so the first thing you could think of was trying to find a way to cool down. The waterfall. The small crystal lake. The place you loved to spend your alone time. Heading towards the location, you check to see if anyone else was around, not many people knew about this place but you always liked to make sure. You brushed your ears up, sighing at the feeling. You slipped your clothes off, stepping into the ice water. The moon was the only light you had as you submerged yourself under.

You rose in a gasp, feeling only a short amount of relief. You couldn’t shake this feeling, the need, the craving. Your hand slid down your body as you rested your back along the large rock forms. Your fingers push pressure on your clit, making you groan out. Moving in a circular motion, going faster and faster, you let yourself fall into pleasure but it's not enough.

“My my, what do we have here…” You jump hearing your wolf’s voice. You didn’t see him though, but you did see a sudden figure jump into the water. You wipe the water out of your face from the splash, coming into contact with golden eyes lowly glowing and fresh split dye hair. You gulped as he got closer. His hands wrap around your bare waist, pulling you closer. Your legs entangle with his and then you notice, he was also bare.

“When did your heat start baby?” He growled kissing your lobe, down your jaw, before sucking on your neck. “I’m going to make you feel so damn good…Now stay still.”

Seonghwa

Your head was fuzzy, groaning as you tossed around in the soft velvet sheets. As your lover slowly eased into you. He picks up your legs, holding them to your chest for a deeper angle. You scream out his name as you drag your nails down his bare back, making him groan in a low animalistic growl. His speed was in-human, with the sounds of hot wet skin slapping together. Everything was about to come undone when you felt a sudden weight that held your lower half down. A burning pleasure surged through you like lighting. Your eyes flutter open waking from your lewd dream.

A gasp leaves your lips as you try to crawl away from the oversensitive pleasure. Seonghwa held you tight, digging his face into your core. You whimpered, grabbing a fist full of his hair. His tongue slurping up your juices, as his fingers pump faster in and out. The band snaps, making you come all over his face. He sits up with a low chuckle, wiping his chin with a smirk.

“I couldn’t help myself baby. Not when you call my name so beautifully in your sleep.” He kisses your neck, sucking harsh purple marks along his way. You were at his mercy, feeling a burning pan mixing with his relieving pleasure.

“H-Hwa Please…” You coughed, as you choked lightly on your saliva.

“Shh don’t worry my Bunny…” He kissed along your jaw before he locks his lips on you. “I’m going to make the pain go away..”

Yeosang

It became a normal thing for you two. If he was with his brothers and left you alone you would eventually at the end of the day find him at the place you met, in the flower patch. It was a full moon tonight so he was out, but when you finished dressing in your warm attire you grew to notice that you had started your heat, without him.

He told you once you become mates, you were bound to get heats that matched a wolf rather than a hybrid, so they would be more intense than the normal ones you’ve experienced. But you didn’t expect it to be this wild. Your skin is burning and your lower stomach aches. Your head was fuzzy and all you could think about was Yeosang.

You headed out to the flower patch to collect some herbal flowers for your pantry. You wanted to distract yourself from the aching pain. Kneeling down to grab your snipers from your basket, you cut the flowers you need at the end of the stem. Your breathing was hitched as you shook your head to try and focus, but your eyes became a blur. Your long ears flopped down to the sides of your head, feeling your hands shake.

Your knees buckle, falling into the bed of roses. You let out a whimper as you turn onto your back. You rake your fingers through your hair, gliding your fingers along your fluffy ears. You cough out, as tears crackdown your face, falling to your ears. You were lost in your brain, forgetting everything around you. You didn’t notice the wolf approaching you slowly, stalking you. The wolf shifted, suddenly pouncing on top of you, pinning you to the floor. Yeosang brushed his nose against your neck, licking along your pulse.

“Fuck you smell so damn delicious…”

Yunho

Pacing around your Greenhouse, you placed your palms down on the counters, looking into the sink filled with water. You let out a sigh before you slammed your face into the ice water. You screamed but it was muffed, you’ve never felt this feeling before and all you craved was Yunho. You gasped pulling your head out, feeling the air hit you. Your fuzz on your ears is damp and the light makeup you put on has now smudged away.

“Yu… Yuyu…” You whimpered out sniffling, rubbing your face. You retched for the towel to dry yourself, patting your face against it. Before you finished drying off, a pair of large arms engulf you in a deep hug, it was Yunho. His face nuzzled into your neck kissing along the wet skin. Your pain was finally being relieved the moment he touched you, but you still needed more.

"I could smell you from down the hall baby, god should have told me you were going into heat. I would have come back sooner..." He trails off, licking and sucking any exposed flesh he could find.

"H-heat?" Your confused words mixed with moans made Hongjoong chuckle. He spun you around pushing you against the counter. His lips mere inches from yours, you gulp. He could see the innocent look in your eyes, making him lowly growl.

“Oh my sweet tiny, Let me take care of you.”

San

A couple of minutes, of looking for herbs turned into 2 hours of San pinning you to the table in the centre of your greenhouse, making you surge with pleasure over and over again. His tongue, his fingers, all over your bare body, gifting you nothing but love and attention.

"S-San..." You cried out, coming undone for what you could guess was the fifth time. His lips, trailed up your hot skin, licking, kissing, sucking any part of you he could retch. Before placing a sloppy kiss on your swollen lips. His teeth graze on your bottom lip, smirking into the kiss.

"I'm going to make love to you until you're nothing but a whimpering, shaking mess..." His hot breath pools over your face. His eyes glowed bright gold, watching your face contort as his fingers slip in and out.

"I'm going to make you feel so much pleasure that you'll forget you're even on your heat..." He suddenly stood up straight, pulling your legs to help you off the table. His hands grip tight on your ass, holding you up. He pinned you to the glasshouse wall, seeing woods outside. your blurred eyes finally focus your wolf-mate seeing his sly smile as he stares at you. you kiss him passionately smiling in his lips.

"God I love you..." He lightly kisses your cheek. "Now let me fuck you on every surface until you see stars..."

Mingi

It all happened so fast. Mingi was sound asleep with you snuggled close next to him. Sharp pains in your lower stomach awoke you. You went quickly to the kitchen to get a glass of water, thinking it might cool down the heat shivering through your system. You chugged the water feeling some it the liquid spill down your chin. You gasp, taking a short breath. You knew about the symptoms of heat but you’ve never felt it like this.

You were so distracted by your own feelings that you almost didn’t notice the tall giant lowly growl from the doorway. His eyes were a dim golden hue, piercing through the darkness of the early morning. You gulp feeling exposed to his stare. You backed away, seeing he would take a step forward in response. You cracked a smile, with an idea popping into your head.

"Min..." You cooed trying to sound as innocent as possible. You were both on either side of the island bench. His hands were firmly on the marble with a sly smirk.

"Don't move..." He ordered but given you weren't a wolf yourself, you had no bounds like a normal mate. Therefore you had more leeway. You smiled at him, feeling the tug, wanting nothing more than to jump on him. But the other side of you wanted to have fun with him, taking another step back, he growled.

You ran.

"Y/N!!!" He yelled, chasing you down the hall, up the stairs, looping in and out of different rooms before finally grabbing you, pinning you to the hallway wall. His lips connected with your neck, adrenaline pumping through both of you. Your chest was heavy, as was his. Panting out moans, as he sucks hard.

"I'm going to punish you on every surface of this house for you running away from me."

Wooyoung

You lay on the floor in front of the fireplace, leaning against your fluffy wolf. His soft fur tickles your skin in the best way. You let out a small sigh making his catch notice, looking over at your half-asleep relaxed body. He could tell your heat was going to start any day soon as your scent was changing. Becoming more intensified. He was the one to become lost in his own thoughts, his eyes glowing a soft golden hue as his heart began to speed up. His wet nose brushed against your hot flesh making you jump, but he kept protected. Nuzzling into you.

“hmm…What Woo…” You let out a groan, trying to move away from him. He stood up, shifting quickly. His lips made contact with your neck, pinning you to the floor.

“God, you smell so nice. You look so fuck…fuck me…” He growls nipping at your skin, lifting your shirt up. He ground his pelvis down onto your core, relieving some pleasure. Your shirt was scrunched above your chest as his tongue licked any part of flesh it could find. He was losing all control he possible had. A question that was floating in your head was;

‘weren’t you suppose to be the one on heat?’

Jongho

It was late at your little cottage in the middle of nowhere. Jongho was finally coming home from the long run out with his brothers. When he entered the house, he become suddenly aware, his senses blowing up. It was dark, nothing seemed to be done, all the little tasks you always do were unfinished or partially completed. He ran for the staircase, running towards your bedroom. He opened it to see the small side lamp being the only thing illuminating the room.

But unlike everything he had seen the one thing that caught him by surprise was the bed was unmade. In fact, the covers and blankets were missing. A trail of pillows and sheets lead into the walk-in wardrobe. He could faintly smell your scent, walking towards the closed doors. Opening it he sees you, patting the corners of your makeshift nest. You were completely bare except for his shirt covering you, while your tongue poked out trying to focus on making your nest of his scent perfect.

He leaned against the door frame with his arms crossed, he could smell you were on your heat the moment he opened the door. He wanted to pin you down and take you then and there but he resisted, choosing to wait.

“Bunny…what are you doing…” He cooed making your soft ears stand straight up. Your eyes were puffy, and your lips were swollen. He let out a low growl, making you wiggle in desperation.

“I… I feel funny, I just needed you, I needed—I know baby…” He cut your stuttering words, kneeling down to sit beside you. His body heat made your skin shiver, immediately crawled onto his lap. Your lips attached to his neck, rubbing yourself on his large thighs. He held you tight, fingers digging into your exposed thighs.

“Come on Bunny…” He flipped you over, pinning you to the ground. “Let sir, Help you…”

-

Ateez Masterlist

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[animeomegas]

Omega!Narutoverse Future Family Headcanons

This is a compilation of my headcanons about future families for my favourite Naruto boys (excluding Kakashi who is childfree in my headcanons.) 

This is very long, so I’ve put most of it under a cut <3 Enjoy~

Naruto:  : 4 children – Son (omega), adopted daughter (alpha), twin sons (betas). 

Has his son about four years before he becomes Hokage.

His son is a huge daddy’s boy type and clings to Naruto every chance that he gets. 

Naruto never lets his role as Hokage take him away from his son any more than absolutely necessary. Does he take his son into his office? Absolutely. He puts down a little play pen on the floor while he works :’). 

His son loves cuddles so much and he is so gentle. 

He doesn’t like pranks though which makes Naruto a little sad but he would never do anything to make his little one sad. 

Male omegas can be identified from birth, so you both knew he was, but even if you didn’t it’s very obvious. He makes his own little nest next to Naruto’s but ends up crawling into Naruto’s for cuddles every time. 

As he gets older, he attends the academy, but he hates it so much. He reminds me a little of a young Itachi, a pacifist to the core. He doesn’t want to hurt anyone! He begs you and Naruto to let him attend the civilian school, and of course you let him. 

Naruto gets a lot of shit for allowing this from some parties *cough* the council *cough*. The Hokage’s children should be powerful ninjas according to them, but Naruto will always prioritise his children’s happiness. Naruto shields his son from the hate as much as possible, but some slips through.

 The transition is easier if you are a civilian, your son feels a little more secure if that’s the case, and he would consider following your footsteps depending on what you do. If you run a little business, he would definitely want to work with you. If you’re also a ninja he can feel left out and unsure, but he grows into such a quietly confident person, who starts a little business. 

Not being a ninja also means he can be there for his younger siblings. He is a dedicated older brother who is always there for them. He has a room for each other them at his house and loads of medical supplies for when they come back from missions injured and won’t go to the hospital. He always patches them up. 

All his younger siblings respect him so much. He is a very reliable person, and his siblings get so offended if they hear any anti-civilian talk from the ninjas they work with.

When Naruto is about a year into working as Hokage, he goes to visit the orphanage, a place that he reformed hugely as soon as he could. It’s so much nicer than it was and he’s so happy. 

But there is one girl that he sees there, and she’s being bullied by some of the other kids. At only three years old, Naruto’s heart breaks for her. Turns out that she’s being teased for being a female alpha. Times have changed a lot, but there are still some horrible stereotypes about male omegas and female alphas, even if those aren’t the norm anymore. 

He intervenes and wipes away her tears, uncomfortably reminded of his own stay at the orphanage when he was her age. He wraps up the visit and leaves, but he just can’t get here out of his head. 

He’s been wanting another child, but he’s still in a vulnerable position so early into being Hokage that he can’t afford the time off for maternity leave. 

Hesitantly, he brings up the idea of adoption to you, when you respond positively, he’s like great 😊, I have one picked already. 

It’s only about a fortnight later that you’re picking her up and bringing her home. At first, she is very shy and reserved but when she gets comfortable, you learn that she is the opposite. 

She’s very forthright and opinionated, she always says what she feels and stands up for injustice. 

Her favourite thing is to come home and tell you and Naruto about her day. She never leaves out any detail and has been known to demand to go and see Naruto while he’s working so that she can tell him about something that happened at school. 

Naruto ends up unwillingly up to date with all the academy drama. 

She’s quite serious and likes to have grown up conversations and sit at the grown ups table. 

She ends up attending the academy and she just thrives on all the history and politics lessons! She great at negotiating and learning about people. 

She makes strong friends and has a tight knit friendship group that she keeps all the way to adulthood. 

She ends up making Chunin pretty quickly but waits a long while before taking the Jounin exam. She ends up specialising in international relations. 

She works as an ambassador for Konoha and gets to travel around all the countries. She adores her job, but she does sometimes miss her family. Naruto gets sad when he sends her for long missions, knowing that he can’t come and see her for that time, but there’s no one he would trust more to act on behalf on Konoha and she always brings back souvenirs for everyone.

The twins are quite a bit younger than the other two. Six years younger than their older sister, and eight years younger than their older brother. 

In a better position now, Naruto wants to try for one final child. 

Of course, you get twins. 

It takes a bit of re-planning, but Naruto is overjoyed at the fact that he’s pregnant with twins! He gives birth to identical twin boys. You can’t tell from birth whether a baby is a male alpha or male beta, and they end up showing signs of being betas when they’re about 12.

These boys are little troublemakers, and Naruto rejoices and finally having some of his children who likes pranks like he does!

They excel at strategy and trap making when they join the academy but the oldest struggles a little with the more academic side. 

Naruto is so patient in helping him because he knows what it’s like to be a physical learner in an academic environment. 

They are the babies of the family and they get away with everything haha. 

When they end up graduating, they are put on the same genin team and they continue to work together for their entire careers. They are similar to Izumo and Kotestu. They know each other so well and both have complimentary skills, so they make a formidable duo on the battlefield. 

Naruto hates sending them on dangerous missions though. If they ever didn’t come back, I don’t think Naruto would recover, knowing that he sent them to the place that they died. 

These two also definitely take on a genin team when they first get promoted to jounin, and they’re great teachers! I can’t decide if they would have one together, or if they would have one each and compete in ridiculous challenges like whose genin team can get the most d ranks done in one day. 

They remind people of Kakashi and Gai in a lot of ways. 

Sasuke:  1 child – daughter (beta).

Sasuke has a daughter in his late twenties, after he’s had some time to deal with his trauma. 

He’s undeniably in a better place but he struggles badly with PPD, making the first year very difficult on your family. 

Eventually things get better though, and you work together to raise your daughter. 

She is wicked smart, very much into scholarly things, but she also loves weapons, particularly any sort of blade. Sasuke teaches her how to use a sword and they bond a lot over it. 

She’s pretty quiet and withdrawn, preferring to read a book or practice with her weapons than socialise. Sasuke tries to get her to make more friends but she calls him out on being a hypocrite and he’s so offended that he drops the issue. 

She does well in the academy but she lowkey hates going. She likes going more if either you or Sasuke are there to pick her up and walk home with her, she doesn’t like walking home alone because the Uchiha compound is so damn far away and isolated. 

When she awakens her sharigan when she’s a chunin, Sasuke has a pretty bad reaction. The sharigan isn’t associated with anything good in his mind, so he freaks out when his daughter activates it. You need to give him some time and support and he’ll come around. He’s the only one who can train her after all. 

Sasuke is so proud of his daughter when she makes Jounin, which of course, she does. I could see her taking on a powerful advisory role for the Hokage as a jounin.

She is someone who believes that there is a lot to learn from history, and is a great advisory asset in helping to avoid past mistakes.

Itachi: Canon = none / Non-massacre Au = 2 children. Son (omega), daughter (beta). 

Has a son shortly after you get married. 

Itachi is a family man through and through and can’t wait to retire from being a ninja (which he hates) to being able to raise his children full time. 

The day Itachi gets moved from the active list to the reserves list after he becomes pregnant is one of the happiest days of his life. 

His son is very responsible and serious. 

He likes to follow Itachi around and help him clean and cook and run errands. He always tidies up his toys and keeps his room clean, and he almost always behaves respectfully and sensibly. 

Itachi never forces him to do too much though, he wants his son to have a fun childhood like he never had. 

Itachi is over the moon when his son shows an interest in calligraphy, happy that his son is picking up a healthy hobby. 

He buys him all the supplies and gets him a teacher if he wants one. It warms Itachi’s heart to see his son interested in something other than chores for once. 

Despite the pressure from the clan for his children to attend the academy, Itachi puts his foot down for one of the first times in his life, saying that his children will only become ninja if they want to. 

His son does in fact want to attend the academy. 

Itachi kind of wishes he didn’t. 

Itachi’s son shows a huge proficiency for fuinjutsu, his calligraphy skills coming in handy. Seeing as the skill is so rare, he becomes one of the leading experts in Konoha. 

Itachi is very supportive and lowkey glad that his son is so powerful and can defend himself. Itachi is also very glad that his son can continue with his fuuinjustsu passion long after he retires from being an active ninja. 

Itachi hopes that safety net (producing seals for other ninjas and continuing to earn money from his hobby) will mean his son can retire whenever he wants and not have to worry. Rather than becoming stuck in the shinobi lifestyle.

Itachi’s daughter is born five years after his son, an age gap that was larger than he would have liked, but he had a pretty traumatic birth the first time around and he needed to give his body some time to recover.

Itachi puts a lot of emphasis on a loving relationship between his children, and his daughter adores her older brother so much! She follows him around and tries to copy him all the time, and he help her with homework and plays with her. 

It makes Itachi very, very happy to see them bond. 

Itachi’s daughter is a beta and has everyone wrapped around her finger from the moment she is born. 

She’s charming, well spoken, and polite but with a very sarcastic personality. 

She has a very similar sense of humour to Itachi actually. A sort of under the breath commentary style. Goodness help anyone who finds themselves opposing Itachi and his daughter. 

Academy teachers get put in their place so fast when they join forces, the teachers don’t even know what happened. 

As Itachi’s daughter joins the academy, she follows after her uncle and develops fangirls and fanboys… She’s very popular. Very popular. 

And she loves it. 

Itachi is not as fond. 

He is not above staring coldly at children for badgering his beloved daughter. 

When she grows up, she works as a ninja, favouring a more jack of all trades kind of style. She likes to learn a little bit of everything. 

She’s the same way with relationships too. She never gets married or mated, preferring casual relationships and has no interest in children, she lives her life doing whatever she wants with whoever she wants. 

Itachi is very proud of her, and secretly very amused when his clan constantly tries and fails to control her.

Shikamaru: 1 child – daughter (alpha)

Shikamaru has a child at about 25, and he knew from the get-go that he was a one and done kind of guy.

He’s not a fan at all of the infant stage and does not want to do it more than once. 

The Nara clan have a very high proportion of alphas, so Shikamaru kinda expected his child to be one. And lo and behold she was. 

His daughter is the spitting image of him in every way. She is the most mellow alpha ever. So much so that most people assume she’s a beta, and she doesn’t really care enough to correct them about it. 

She is also very close to her grandparents, who dote on her and spoil her as much as they can. 

She excels at school in the same way her father did before her, retaining average marks despite being miles ahead of most of her peers.

Shikamaru teaches her how to play shogi and all about the beauty of napping. She takes to them both like a duck to water. She is so much like Shikamaru that everyone comments on it constantly. 

Although, while she loves a good cloud gazing session with her father, she actually takes to creative writing as her favourite hobby. She uses a pseudonym to avoid attention, but she ends up writing a series of books that becomes one of the most popular book series in the shinobi nations. 

Shikamaru is so insanely proud that his daughter can have both a successful ninja career and a successful hobby/side career. He brags to anyone who knows her pseudonym constantly, including you and his parents. 

He also keeps a set of first edition, signed copies of all her books. He reads them when she’s away on long missions sometimes, as a way of feeling closer to her.

Shikamaru and his daughter remain incredibly close all their lives.

Shino: 1 child – daughter (omega)

Shino had a child slightly later than most of his friends, at around 34. 

Shino’s daughter is a very curious child! She’s quiet and withdrawn around strangers but very talkative with her family and close friends.

Her favourite place to be is on Shino’s lap. And when around strangers, she always hides behind him, or buries her face into his shoulder. 

Shino loves to spend time with his daughter outside. He teaches her all about insects and plants, leading her around the woods after when she can still barely walk. 

Shibi does the same with her, and those two are very close. 

Shino is fiercely protective of his daughter, and never forces her into doing things she isn’t comfortable with. He defends her right to be quiet and clingy, and it takes some convincing to get him to understand that she needs to make friends outside of her immediate family. 

When she cries for anything, Shino gives in straight away, as long as she isn’t wanting to do anything extremely dangerous. Because of this, she develops quite the sweet tooth, having had as many cookies as she wanted as a child. 

Shino’s daughter ends up teaching at the academy as a career chunin, because despite being shy around adults, she is fantastic with children, very patient and understanding. 

Shino is very happy with her choices, because he was a little worried that she would end up scarred from a shinobi career, and he hates any situation in which he can’t protect her. 

She has her own children pretty young, and Shino is just a good a grandfather as he is a father.

Neji: 2 children – adopted daughter (beta), adopted son (alpha)

Neji is about 30 when he decides he wants to try to have a baby. 

And he’s 32 when he finally comes to terms with the fact that he isn’t going to be able to conceive naturally because of the suppressant abuse he endured as a child. 

Then, tragically, one of the branch members of his clan dies giving birth. Her mate can’t handle the stress and dies shortly afterwards, leaving their two-year-old daughter and newborn son behind. 

Dying after a mate dies is not super uncommon but is much rarer in the cases where children are involved, so this exact situation doesn’t happen very often. 

His heart breaks for them and he is close to begging you to adopt them with him. 

And soon enough you have two children, siblings, and both Hyuugas like Neji. 

You would never forget Neji’s face when he held his children for the first time. He would never let them be branded with the seal that has impacted his life so much. He would sooner run away from the clan forever.

Neji’s daughter takes a little while to adjust to her new parents, still distraught and grieving over the loss of her previous parents. 

Neji understands and gets her a therapist, but he finds it difficult to watch his child suffer. 

The first time she crawled into bed with you and Neji after a nightmare, Neji cried because she was finally starting to trust you both. 

Neji’s daughter is a beta and when she recovers from her childhood trauma, she shows her true colours as a limelight lover! 

She loves acting and dancing and singing whenever and wherever she can. She plans little plays for you and Neji, sitting you down to perform them for you every weekend. Neji is very proud! 

But he doesn’t really know what to do when his daughter says she doesn’t want to be a ninja. 

He loves and supports her, of course, but he’s thrown off, not really expecting it. 

Eventually, he agrees to send her to a civilian school, and she immediately flourishes there, making so many friends, even starting a little after school performance style club. 

Neji is so incredibly proud when she makes it as a famous actress. He lowkey brags constantly to his friends. 

“Oh, your child just got promoted to chunin? How lovely. My daughter made more money this year than any chunin will see in their life…” Sips tea. 

Neji’s daughter is so glamourous and outgoing and famous, but she never forgets her family, and loves to spoil you, Neji and her younger brother with her money.

Neji’s son doesn’t remember his biological parents and fits into your family seamlessly from day one. As far as he’s concerned, you and Neji are his only parents. 

Just like his older sister, this boy is very extroverted, but rather than singing all the time, he talks. He’s the chattiest person you could ever meet. 

Introverted Neji isn’t 100% sure about how to parent such extroverted children, he just doesn’t understand that they don’t enjoy too much solitary activity time. 

He’s feels a lot better if you’re an extrovert, that way, he can have some alone time to recharge while you handle the children. 

If you’re also an introvert… well, let’s hope Hinata was serious about her babysitting offer. 

Neji’s son talks to everyone as I already mentioned, and adults think he is the cutest thing ever. 

As he grows up, he always helps old people carry their shopping, he helps lost children find their parents, he is basically the alpha every parent dreams of their omega child bringing home. 

He’s very charming and Neji is a lot less surprised when his son says he doesn’t want to be a ninja. 

Eventually ends up working in the orphanage. 

The children adore him so, so much, and he loves his job dearly. 

Neji brags about him too. 

“Wow, your child got top marks in the academy? My child was hand-making birthday gifts for some children at the orphanage when he was 11. He decided to do it all by himself…” sips more tea. 

Whenever she’s in Konoha, his older sister turns up and gives all the kids at the orphanage gifts. She’s like a fun, rich aunt for all of them. 

Neither of Neji’s children have children of their own, as they find their respective careers to be the most fulfilling thing for them.

Neji is a very proud father and is happy when his children are happy.

Iruka: None, or 2 children (he’s happy with either) – adopted son (omega), adopted daughter (omega)

Iruka would be happy with no children because he’s so dedicated to his work and his students, but he also adores children and wouldn’t mind having some of his own. This is an au in which he decides to have children. 

He adopts his son at age 27, pretty soon after the war, choosing to adopt an older child who has less of a chance of being adopted. 

A six-year-old omega with a bright smile and loud laugh, Iruka is immediately taken with him. The war had left many orphans, and it was hard on Iruka to walk around the orphanage, knowing he couldn’t adopt them all. 

Iruka throws as much love as he can as his new son, taking time off work to bond with him properly, making sure to scent him loads and get him used to his new family environment. 

Iruka is thrilled when his son shows a knack for pranks.

He plays the disapproving parent in public, but honestly, he loves it, as long as things don’t go too far. 

Iruka’s son is a very kind-hearted person, if a little rambunctious, and he also has a huge nesting instinct. 

You knew he was an omega when you adopted him, but it was very clear, nonetheless. He has a permanent nest in his room that he likes to chill in with his friends when they come over (he’s very popular with the other kids in his class.). 

When he gets a little older, he goes to the academy, walking to and from every day with Iruka, and develops a passion for medicine when he’s a genin. 

He has great chakra control and eventually ends up working full time at the hospital as an adult. 

He chose a similar path to Iruka, in that he works as a ninja but is primarily based in the village, rarely leaving on missions. 

He makes sure to come home for dinner at least once a week after he’s moved out, no matter how busy the hospital gets. 

Iruka is so proud that his son is so talented and selfless, that sometimes it makes him tear up. 

Iruka knows that he doesn’t want just one child. 

When his parents died, he was all alone and it was horrible for him, so he knows he wants to have two children, so that when you and him die, they’re not alone. 

Iruka is very ready to adopt again about two years after he adopted his son. 

Iruka found the adoption process so rewarding that he wants to do it again over having a biological child. 

He adopts a little girl this time, five years old and also an omega. When Iruka was meeting the children, this girl brought him a paper flower that she had folded as a gift and his heart just melted right then and there. 

She fits in perfectly to your family, your son adored her immediately! 

With three omegas living in your house now, you were very much outnumbered. It was a common occurrence to find yourself missing all your warm clothes, them having been borrowed and buried inside one of the three nests (minimum) nests in your house. 

Iruka’s daughter is a gentle soul, but she is also strong. She appears like an easy target because she is soft spoken and reserved but she has a strong sense of justice and always stands up for herself and others. 

When she’s young, she likes the idea of going into medicine like her older brother as she admires and looks up to him, but she doesn’t like the realities of the job very much. 

She’s great at chakra control, but the idea of wrangling disobedient, injured shinobi doesn’t appeal to her. 

Until one day, on her way home from a friend’s house, she finds an injured stray dog. She brings it home and begs you and Iruka to keep him. So, your family of four turns into a family of five, and she becomes obsessed with veterinary medicine. 

As an adult, she ends up working at the veterinary clinic in the Inuzuka compound. She is committed to helping as many animals as she can, with a particular soft spot for dogs. 

She also joins the rest of her family for dinners at least once a week. Iruka is so overwhelmingly proud that he has two medic children, because he knows how talented you have to be to do that. 

He is also very happy that both his children stay mostly within the village. The war made Iruka a little paranoid, and he doesn’t worry so much when his children are safe within the village walls.

Gaara: 2 children – daughter (alpha), son (alpha)

Gaara has his children the youngest out of everyone his age that he knows. He had his daughter when he had just turned 21, and his son five years later when he was 26. 

His daughter is Gaara’s sweetheart. 

He adores her so much and spends as much time as he can with her. He is so gentle with her and loving all the time. 

Gaara’s daughter is very energetic and playful, but also quite sensitive. 

She loves positive attention, loves to play with everyone who will engage with her. 

She’s a very family-oriented person and loves spending time with Kankuro and Temari when you and Gaara are busy. 

However, because you, Gaara, Temari and Kankuro always treated her so gently, she was quite sensitive to people being angry or shouting at her. 

Once, her teacher at school shouted at her for talking in class and she ran straight to the Kazekage’s office crying. Gaara was furious. He hates when his children cry, so much. He let her stay with him for the rest of the day to calm her down, sending you a message to let you know he was looking after her. 

Gaara’s daughter visited him constantly, often bringing little lunchboxes of food for him, learning to new recipes constantly. 

Trying to surprise him, she develops a great skill in cooking. 

She decides, in the end, not to follow the shinobi route. She opens her own restaurant in Suna, charming customers with her amazing hostess skills and phenomenal cooking. 

She allows all her family to eat for free, but they all pay anyway, because they love to support her. Gaara, especially, always leaves a huge tip for her and her staff.

Gaara’s son is born five years after his daughter, another alpha, leaving Gaara very outnumbered, with both his siblings, his mate and his children all being alphas. 

Gaara’s son is very quiet and tactile. 

He loves cuddles and hugs but doesn’t speak very much. 

He enjoys spending time with Gaara in Gaara’s nest, despite not having nesting instincts of his own. 

Gaara’s son is very close to you and Gaara. He always tells you when something is bothering him, and although he doesn’t speak much, he chooses his words carefully and they always mean something.

He actually excels at shinobi school, both in academics and in sparring, and moves up the ranks quickly. He spends a lot of time training with Kankuro and gets into puppetry. 

Even when he becomes a jounin, he spends time with Gaara in his nest, still loving physical affection. 

Gaara enjoys hosting family gatherings for everyone, his daughter cooks loads of dishes for it, his son makes sure to take time off missions to attend, and sometimes Temari drags Shikamaru to Suna as well to join them all. 

Gaara smiles more often than not now, feeling so proud of the life he crafted for himself, and the family he worked hard to create.

(Phew! That was a lot! I hope you enjoyed, let me know what you thought and send me your own headcanons!!! <3)

[fvrxdrm]

5 Times

Pairing: Damnation!Leon Kennedy x Reader

Warning(s): None

*****

4 times Leon didn't confess his love and 1 time he did.

One

It was the giggles that sailed upon your boat, the laughter, the smiles. You both saw the funny in everything and that was your bond. You could be serious too; you loved deeply of others more than what was generally accepted. So you guessed the humor was how you let out the tension that kind of love brings. In those silly moments you were perfect, and they were the sweetness you needed in rough times. That's what friends do, right? It's the love that makes doors in emotional brick walls, the love that makes everything possible.

That's what Leon always thought. It was so cordial and unique in a way that he felt like what he valued so much was somehow outlandish and alien. He couldn't distinguish what comes out of him whenever you were with him and every tingle that raises hills on his skin was a puzzle he was unable to solve.

"I'll see you around," you mumbled against his chest.

"Yep." Leon unwrapped his arms around you albeit slowly, reluctant for some reason, and smiled through his pursed lips. "I'll see you around."

He watched as you wended your way from his house and into your home, a teasing tug pulling his lips at the ghost of your own against his cheek.

Two

Under the dim lights and the colorful ornamentations, your raiment sparkled against the gleam, catching the eye of many guests, predominantly Leon. You looked like a princess wearing a headband that imitated a crown, a top and a pair of pants embellished with a winking glint that could be mistaken as diamonds from afar, and heeled leather boots that comically made you look tall. Your hair was in a loose and messy braid with a few strands hanging just beside your face and a light chain that twisted along your H/L H/C locks.

Leon was in awe, no doubt. His focus was glued to your appearance. Even when his friends were making random conversations with him, he found it unbearably hard to keep his icy blues away from you.

"You should just ask her out, you know. You've been staring at her with heart eyes the entire night," Chris spoke as he followed the trail of Leon's gaze towards you.

Leon broke away from his stupor and shook his head at the man's voice, his blood rushing towards his neck and face.

"What? No, no. You're mistaken. I-I don't like her like that."

"You sure? Last time we were drunk you were yelling about how much you love her right into my ear."

"We were drunk, Chris."

"And? What's that saying again? A drunk man's words are a sober man's thoughts?" Chris simpered as Leon's eyes widened in surprise.

"What? Th-that's not true!" He denied.

"Mhm, sure. Anyway, my girlfriend's probably looking for me now," the taller and bulkier man said. "At least ask her to dance."

As Chris' footsteps faded away into the beat of the music, Leon thought about what he had said.

Did he actually like her, or was it just something he was confusing himself with? Either way, you were still a treasured dear to him and whether or not his heart was romantically beating for you, he would still value you the same, although he would probably be a bit clingier if you did end up together.

For now, he'll just ask you for a dance, go with the flow, and see what happens.

Three

The night rode in on a horse of pure midnight velvet, beckoned by the stars under the glow of a full moon. As the colors of the day rested, perhaps dreamt of the morrow, the forest became its monochrome beauty, darkened greens and golds that made an ever-changing, ever-present puzzle, question and answer united.

Fire danced beside you as you and Leon laid against under the constellation of stars and talked the night away, smiling and laughing at every jest that was told.

It felt pleasant to be in his arms and he felt warmth as a wild heart beat in his bars.

"This one," you began, leading his fingers towards a raised and silvery part of your skin, "I got this when I was younger. I got stabbed by a pencil."

"A pencil?"

"Yeah. My friend and I got into a fight and it was buried, like, 3-fucking-inches inside of me. And holy shit, my teacher didn't fucking notice it while I was bleeding profusely. I was leaking hamburger helper!"

Leon busted a gut and pulled you towards him even more as he shook in laughter.

You went on and on about the most absurd things that had happen during your childhood until you lost all energy and eventually fell asleep in Leon's arms.

You looked peaceful, he thought. Your face was so serene as if nothing had really affected you in any way. The world was cruel, but you only sought for the brighter side and stood along it with your back turned to the hell it truly bore. Your lips were parted lightly, and hair just a tad bit messy from all the exaggerated movements you'd done while telling your stories and tossing your head back while laughing. A part of your skin was showing as your top rode up, and he couldn't the blush that crawled up to his face when realized his hand was rested on that patch of skin.

He smiled.

Maybe he did like you, or love you. If his admiration wasn't enough, then his heart reassured him.

Four

"Oh, fuck!"

You swam away from Leon as fast as your arms and legs could fight against the water as he chased you, muscles and quads aiding him. Compared to you, he was more skilled in this type of stuff while you had chicken legs with barely anything of assistance. So it was no surprise when he caught up to you with spider hands and wrapped his arms around your waist. He tickled your stomach, the bareness of it making the stimulation all the more patent and making you guffaw while squirming in his arms.

"Okay, okay, I'm sorry!" You cried in between laughter. You turned around to face him when you felt his hands making a stop against the side of torso and looked at the wonders of his eyes steadily and intensely.

You didn't notice it, but Leon's breath hitched at the proximity of your faces, the hot air that flew out of your nose hitting the droplets on his face. You were in a daze. Both of you. It felt so intimate and bona fide that for a second that was your only reality.

Your fingers trailed up his chest, neck, and finally his cheek, and for a moment, your hand was still on his face with only your thumb moving to stroke the scar that was stripped away from his hair. Leon furrowed his brows. The inside of your lip was lightly bitten as you thought about your next action for a moment. But decided that fuck it, life is short. If he felt the same way than congrats! But if he didn't, well, it's either he'll pull away or kiss back with no purpose. And hey, what's the matter with making out with your best friend?

And so, you drew a bit closer, albeit rather slowly in case Leon wanted to pull away. But seeing as he was copying your motions, you saw his intention and pressed your lips against his in a shy lip-lock.

Five

Leon tugged on his tie as he looked at the people dancing around inside of the venue, his heart doing a little dance of its own when he saw you smiling with the crowd.

He blew a sigh, the breeze intertwining with the air. He could see the party from the balcony: flashes of different color schemes, the swaying of dresses as the women moved, the chattering of people as they drank the glasses of champagne. He couldn't believe it. He couldn't believe this was all about you and him; two souls entwined by love.

"I see you didn't invite me," a sultry and velvety voice said from beside him. He knew who it was and it didn't faze him anymore to see her appearing uninvited as she always did.

"What are you doing here, Ada?"

"What, I can't go see two of my favorite people anymore?"

"Well, it always ended in a mess, anyway, so what's the point." Ada chuckled in response and leaned back against the railing, the smile her giggling left still ghosting on her face. It was all jokes, fun, and games to her for a moment until she turned serious and gazed at you from a distance where you couldn't notice.

"Take care of each other, Leon. You both are worth more than what you give yourselves credit for," she muttered. "I wish I could've given her the life you're giving to her now. But I can't, and I'll remain like this until I die."

In the depths of her mind, Ada reminisced on the time when she was in Leon's position. She gave the love you needed and wanted, and cared for you in so many ways. But she was a mercenary, a wanted one at that, and she knew that one day, everything would be thrown into a void or burned until it turned to ashes. So, she broke what you had off and handed you to Leon where he could give you a better life.

Leon couldn't say anything. It seemed rude and odd but he remembered when you knocked on his door, drenched in rain water and sobbing everything from your chest. It hurt to see you like that. And so, he promised. He promised to be the best husband he could ever be and shower you with everything he could give you.

"Leon!" Your voice rang out as you ran towards him with a wide smile on your face, startling the both of them.

Leon turned towards where Ada stood but saw that she was gone as if she was nothing but an apparition that was made by his mind.

He was befuddled for a moment, pondering about his encounter with the woman, but found his heart racing as you came closer to him.

What transpired was long forgotten and all the world could see how Leon mimicked the smile that defined the joy you brought to him. He was just happy to share such a beautiful moment with you and he optimistically wondered about what was ahead of you.

He pulled you towards him and spun you around as he battered your face with kisses, whispering 'I love you's and so many more sweet nothings against your cheeks while you laughed in his arms.

Hidden within the shadows was the raven-haired woman, imitating their smiles as she watched the intimacy from afar. She felt like her mission was done and although it hurt, she was thankful for what she'd done. Leon was going to give you the life you deserved and he was going to fill the holes she'd left.

*****

This was rushed. Lol. And I'm using my phone. How was it tho?

This was the outfit I had in mind. Feel free to change it though.

[pingutats]

be this close, forever and ever

you and harry have been together for a while. your nights at home are quiet and comfortable, and, well, you’re both just so in love.

warnings: sexual content (soft giggly sex), mostly fluff

word count: 2.5k

.                               .                           .                               .                           .

Living with Harry, the two of you start to fall into the same rhythm. It’s not easy with his schedule as chaotic as it often is and your lives so profoundly different, but the nights when he’s home are the quiet sanctuary you need from all of those stresses. His little rituals seep into your own. The evenings are for being together, enjoying each other’s company without distraction or pressure. It’s just you and him, and the routine you’ve constructed so delicately together.

It starts with a face mask. Just because he’s so famous, he receives packages from different companies hoping for endorsements. He doesn’t really do those but he keeps the boxes anyway and most nights the two of you pick out one to try. He reads through the ingredients while you wait for the prescribed fifteen minutes to pass: pumpkin extract, baobab oil, a white flower extract.

“Which white flower?” Harry asks, looking up at you. 

His mask is wrinkled between his brows where he’s frowning and you reach up to smooth it out again, your hands coming away sticky. You wipe them on his sweatpants, which just makes him frown again. “Dunno,” you say, “but it must be a pretty powerful flower if it—” you snatch the packet out of his hand “—de-puffs, hydrates, and brightens our skin.” You scan the printed text for a moment. “I think this one’s supposed to be used in the morning.”

“Oh, fuck. The moon’s out. Was this all for nothing?”

After peeling off the masks carefully in the bathroom, you coo over each other’s soft skin ridiculously and move back into the living room for the next unspoken event of your night. Harry is borderline religious about meditating, somehow possessing the discipline to do it for twenty minutes day and night. You aren’t like him, but sometimes you join in. It is good for you, after all.

The two of you sit on the carpet, legs crossed and backs straight, side by side and within arms reach. The itch to reach out and touch him or lean over to put your head on his shoulder is strong, but you know it annoys him when you do that. He is so serious about it — “It doesn’t work if you keep poking me, the point is to be completely focused” — and even if you’ve never reached his fanaticism about the practise, you respect it so you keep your distance. Two minutes in, though, you’re starting to get bored. He can meditate for ages: twenty minutes is his standard, and you simply don’t have it in you to sit still for that long. Quietly, so as not to disturb him, you uncross your legs and stand up, padding across the soft carpet into the kitchen to turn on the kettle.

When the soft alarm he’s set on his phone rings and brings him back to reality, he blinks open his eyes to see you in front of him, holding two steaming mugs. It’s the tea he buys especially to have before bed, something a friend recommended to relax him. You aren’t sure if it really does anything, but it tastes good so you always have a cup too. When you think about it, you do almost always have a good sleep the nights that you drink it. Those nights are the ones you’re sleeping with Harry, though, so maybe it isn’t the tea. You set the mugs on the table nearby. 

“Thank you, love,” he says softly. He reaches to take hold of your hand and then suddenly drags you down to the floor, a tangle of limbs as you collapse on top of him. 

You giggle and then shriek as his fingers find the ticklish spot along your ribs. “Harry! Get off!”

His attack ceases very quickly when you accidentally elbow him in the stomach in your attempts to escape.

“Sorry, H.”

“’S alright. Probably deserved it.”

“You did.”

But he’s mostly quiet in the evenings — doesn’t like to talk too much as he decompresses from the busy-ness of his days, so he shows his affection more through his actions. As the two of you sip your tea (still on the floor, because with the plushy carpet he has it’s just as comfortable down here as on the couch) he reaches out to drum his fingers over your knee while he tries to remember all the things he needs to do tomorrow. He’s always written himself to-do lists and he got you hooked on them too. You were sceptical at first, but they do make life easier. The little thrill of ticking off boxes in your black notebook with your initials monogrammed on the bottom right corner (Harry’s gift) is a bonus. He’s less driven by those superficial rewards, so he chooses to keep his on his laptop, which is rose gold. His hand leaves you only to type the next line of his to-do list, then he’s back to tracing patterns over the fabric of your borrowed sweatpants. He emails the list to himself when he’s finished. You’ve always found that funny, and you tease him for being grandpa-ish, but it’s just another one of his eccentricities that makes him more endearing.

You probably wear his clothes just as much as you wear your own. He loves seeing you in his stuff. He’s practically throwing t-shirts at you as soon as you walk into the house. He’ll take your stuff, too, sometimes. Dating Harry comes with an unspoken agreement to merge your wardrobes. There are a couple of pieces — a hoodie or two, sweatpants that are too big for either of you, a pair of extremely fluffy socks — that have been passed between you for so long that you can barely remember who owned them first. The sweatpants you’re wearing right now (paired with just a sports bra) are his. The old band tee he has on is yours.

He carries the empty mugs back to the kitchen and loads them into the dishwasher while you finish the last of your planning. There’s no discussion around it, just like no one asked you to make the tea in the first place. The two of you just now how to work together now, with all the times you’ve practised this routine. Sometimes it’s him who makes the tea, sometimes you finish your list first, but you never really have to talk. Harry usually picks out an album to play in the background over these moments, and that’s the only thing you need to listen to. It’s good. It makes you feel more connected to him, like you understand each other on a deeper level than just being able to talk.  You know Harry like the back of your hand. He knows you almost as well as you know yourself. It’s a quiet kind of euphoria, to love and be loved back. You don’t need the fanfares and the grandiose displays. You just need each other.

Later, you pull faces at each other in the mirror while you brush your teeth, bumping hips as you giggle around your toothbrushes. He’s finished in the bathroom before you are, so he lies in bed  in just his boxers and watches you through the open doorway while you do your last couple of skincare and hair rituals. Satisfied, you switch the bathroom light off and enter the bedroom that you share, decorated with framed artworks you both chose, a bedspread that you picked out together. You quickly change into just a long loose shirt, then collapse into bed with him and crawl under the covers, his greedy arms pulling you to nestle into his side while he presses a kiss to your forehead. He likes to read before he sleeps, but you aren’t in the mood for that. You shuffle down until your head is at his chest and you throw your arm and leg over him, letting him rest his paperback against your bare thigh while he reads with you wrapped around him.

After a couple of minutes of just the sound of pages turning and your soft breaths, you start to sponge kisses over his bare chest. He ignores you at first, but you hear his breathing stutter as you move up to his collarbone.

“Let me just finish this chapter,” he murmurs. “Just a couple pages left.” His eyes don’t leave the page, but he gropes around until he finds your hand and brings your fingers to his mouth, kissing them before he lets your intertwined hands drop.

You don’t reply. You pull your hand out of his loose grasp and run your fingertips up the subtly defined lines of his abs, softened by the way he’s sitting. You trace the wings of the butterfly tattooed over his stomach, then draw a constellation between his four nipples — he chuckles and pulls your hand away, holding it tighter this time.

“Baby,” he says, a little firmer this time.

You kiss his shoulder again.

He sighs, closing the book (he doesn’t tear his eyes away from the page until it’s fully closed and you almost feel bad for distracting him until —

He throws the book on the nightstand and reaches over your body to plant his hand on the mattress, pushing himself up so he’s hovering above you. “You’re a pest,” he says, leaning down to nudge his nose against yours. 

You giggle and bite your lip, wrapping one leg around his hip and pulling him closer to you. “Kiss me?”

He obliges, pressing his lips against yours. “That all you wanted?” His tone is slightly teasing. He’s always liked to see you squirm.

You shake your head, wrapping your other leg around him. You can feel the bulge underneath his boxers against your crotch and it sets a fire in your core. You thread a hand into his hair and pull him down to kiss him again, less chastely this time. You roll your hips against him, just slightly, and smile against his kiss when you feel him twitch.

He breaks away from the kiss and smears his lips over your cheekbone to your ear. “Tell me, angel, tell me what you want you want and I’ll give it to you,” he whispers.

You barely contain a whimper at how deep his voice has gotten. “Fuck me,” you say, gasping as he starts to place hot openmouthed kisses down your neck. When you first slept together, you were too embarrassed to ask him so openly. You don’t get embarrassed around him anymore. “Harry, please fuck me.”

He pulls back suddenly, smiling down at you. “See? All you had to do was ask nicely.”

“Harry!”

He’s laughing as he pulls his boxers down to free his cock, but his giggles fade into a low moan as he takes hold of himself and strokes a couple times. “Ready for me, baby?”

“Yeah.”

He pushes into you with one fluid motion, making your eyes roll back. He fills you so perfectly. Every single time he’s in you is better than the last, it never gets old — there’s no feeling that’s as good as how he feels. Sometimes it’s explosive, sometimes he’s brutal in how he fucks you, or passionate and needy, or the both of you get caught up in the roles you make up to play, but you treasure the times like this. The times where he’s on top of you, face-to-face, alternating between kisses and whispers and little giggles — this is where you feel the most love for Harry.

He takes his time, in no hurry to end this moment. The pace he sets is slow but he reaches deep into you on each thrust, his breath coming out increasingly ragged every time he buries himself to the hilt. You have your hands in his hair and splayed across his back — he has one clutching the pillow beside your head to hold himself up, the other roaming over your chest. It’s like he can’t decide what he wants to do with his mouth: he’ll kiss your lips, then along your jaw, down your neck, then back up to your ear where he whispers all the sweet little nothings he can think of.

“So pretty, baby, love you so much, taking me so well, always my good girl, my best girl, my girl, always feel so good…” He chants it like a prayer, his words taking on a firmer tone each time he thrusts in, starting to pick up the pace a bit. “Touch yourself for me, darling, want to see you cum underneath me.”

You moan and reach down between your legs, rubbing little circles around your clit while he starts to fuck you at a faster pace. “Feels so good, Harry,” you say, your words choked slightly by the intensity of what you’re feeling right now.

“I know it does,” he replies, kissing you again, swallowing your moans. That edge of cockiness, the way he knows how to take care of you, when you just need his mouth on you and he can’t keep off you — you love all these little traits. You love him. And he loves you. That’s maybe the feeling to triumph over all the others.

“I’m close, I’m close,” you chant, the hand on his back digging fingernail marks into his skin as the warm feeling in your core rises, threatening to explode.

He thrusts into you faster, his rhythm growing slightly sloppy. “Yeah? Let go for me, baby, let go, I’m right behind you.”

You cum, legs shaking around him and brows pinched as you stare up at him, while he watches you cum undone with an intensity behind his gaze that wasn’t there before. You say his name, over and over, trying to put all you want to say into just that one word. You hope it’s enough. You think it is. He gets you.

“I’m gonna cum,” he says, words cut off by a pant, as you feel the aftershocks of your own orgasm and the growing over-sensitivity. “You feel so good, baby, gonna cum so hard…”

You feel him spill into you as he cries out, his body collapsing over yours so his entire body is pressed against yours. You thread your fingers through his hair until he starts to come down from his high and rolls off you, his cock slipping out and you hiss at the slight friction.

“God…” he murmurs into the air. “That was so good.”

You giggle, twisting around and propping your head up with your hand so you can look down at him. “You say that every time.”

“It’s good every fucking time,” he says, a smile spreading across his face.

You poke his dimple and he tries to catch your finger with his mouth, biting the air playfully, but you pull it away. “You’re such a weirdo.”

He pouts for a second, but then his features soften. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” You drop your head back down to the pillow, watching him stretch his arm out to turn off his bedside lamp. After a couple of swats at the switch, he finally manages it, and brings the same arm back over to drape over your body. It’s totally dark now. “Love you so much,” he tells you, kisses your forehead.

“Love you more. Goodnight, H. Sweet dreams.”

“Night, angel. Sleep well.”

.                               .                           .                               .                           .

hope you enjoyed -- let me know if u did, i like reading ur replies/tags !! i rlly loved writing this fic, it’s just so domestic and sweet and happy. the meditating and the to-do list (including the emailing !! ) is from the real harry. 

btw !! my ask box is open for requests & general chatter, so come say hi :D

[ducktales-lucktales]

Could i please get Donald Duck adopting gender neutral (they/them) reader who has combined type adhd? They're around lena's age, homeless, & hang around the houseboat (pre-season 1), stealing from nearby markets & ships but never the Ducks', which makes the community sus of the family. Y/n tries to apologize for this by sneaking some stolen food/gift aboard the boat, but gets caught, & then Donald is like "whoa, that's a child"? ADHD doesn't have 2 b a huge part of the plot, just little things!

Salty Sea

Donald Duck x GN!ADHD!Reader

Word Count: 8,844

Warnings: Yeah, actually. I wrote a lot and my word document says this is 20 pages without the text dividers and this top stuff. It's also like 99% exposition and 0% what was asked of me because I am a wee bit special (over exaggeration. it's at least a 90% to 10% ratio). Anyway I'm begging for forgiveness thanks.

AO3: Link

Master List 1, 2 || Next

[Y/N] stared out at the ocean keeping them away from what mysterious things were just beyond the horizon. Perhaps there were folk dressed in sparkles or covered in faux fur on top of their fur (odd, isn’t it?). Perhaps there were Norse Gods, or the Loch Ness Monster was out there. They have always wanted to adventure and explore the world outside of the cage called Duckburg, Calisota. It was a small little town, basically owned by the “Richest Duck in The World”, Scrooge McDuck, himself. A small little hole-in-the-wall business here and there would be owned by his greatest and most bitter rival, Flintheart Glomgold and the junkyard was owned by Ma Beagle, a bitter villain, and the Beagle Boys. [Y/N] scoffed as the names of the three most dastardly figures crossed their mind and haunted the streets of Duckburg. Times such as these ones, alone by the docks, they placed heavy blame on the owners of those names. They returned to the calming ocean waves sloshing in front of them. Off to the side, those same waves crawled up shore and longed to take the dry sand down with them.

The so-called “Richest Duck in The World” was so rich and so cheap that he would never spare a dime for his city’s homeless folk. He passed by them on the street without giving them a second thought or a dime. He let them scavenge for scraps of food and clothes day after day as needed. Even then, the shelters “provided” by the rich duck fell short. No room, no supplies for them because the problem was so significant in Duckburg. Yet the world preached about this place being the place of dreams. Wild dreams like acting, sailing, and having a home to live in. The homeless folk never seemed to show themselves, allowing for the biggest scam of all time.

Flintheart Glomgold was no better than his rival. He accumulated jewels and cash and revenue solely to beat Scrooge McDuck at his own game. He never would. Mister Glomgold was nothing more than a fraud, but at least he tossed them a dime once in a blue moon. Ma Beagle was another story–a strange story. They have a debt to Ma Beagle because they were caught rummaging through Ma’s junkyard for something one night. Food, more likely than not, and that didn’t fly with Ma. They ran a handful of errands for her every Monday in exchange for one meal–usually Monday nights meal. These errands were tedious and hard to complete. Every other meal and day of the week was on [Y/N].

The seagulls overhead screeched, searching for some poor soul with a sandwich in their hands. Seagulls loved to dive down and nearly rip someone’s hand off just to nibble at the poor soul’s sandwich and leave it not a moment later. They circled above them only to leave because they were rather uninteresting.

The ocean beyond the beach called their name. The dream of sailing the ocean blue was overwhelmingly fiction at this stage. [Y/N] glanced over at the boat sitting against the dock. The boat looked as though it could house a family, and they thought it house a lonely entrepreneur all but a few years back–only to find it housed a family of four. The folk living in the boathouse were kempt and inadvertently anti-social, save for when the boys make a friend or three and spending their time with those friends. They were younger than [Y/N] by a few years, couldn’t be more than a seven-year difference and couldn’t be less than a three-year difference. These folk were somewhat of a relief. They most likely didn’t even know [Y/N] didn’t exist, and that was far better than the folk that lived in Duckburg that knew them by name and still let them suffer. Or the folk that had too much money than they knew what to do with and willingly left [Y/N] to suffer. Or the folk that use homeless children and teenagers to their advantage–theft, petty crimes, and other small tasks that [Y/N] just so happened to be highly skilled in–you can forget about large tasks. Ha. But even those small tasks failed to keep their attention. Routine was boring.

[Y/N] tapped their hands against the boardwalk post, thoughtless for the first time this evening. The ocean slowly calmed down and the breeze rolled in. They stood up from the post and ran down to the beach as the sun began to set against the water, turning the water a dark blue and orange color where the sun sat. They could only dream of sharing the view with someone who cared about them. What a dream that is to have someone. They rocked back and forth in the sand and thought for a moment about making friends with the boys that live in the boat–maybe making friends would call attention to their situation and someone would care. Or maybe making friends would allow them to have a real meal. A real meal seems like the most distant memory, if there even is a memory of a real meal. [Y/N] no longer knows. Even having a friend seemed like a distant memory, they probably never even had a friend. What a lonely world.

They looked down at the sand that slowly enveloped their feet as if it were quicksand. But it wasn’t, quicksand being dangerous was a myth, wasn’t it? And it certainly wouldn’t be found in Calisota of all states, maybe more of the desert states that [Y/N] would love to avoid. Desert equals hot. Or was it that quicksand was found more in the tropical places? Quicksand would be wet, tropical places tend to be wet. Maybe the local library would have the answer to that one.

[Y/N] turned in the sand and faced the city of Duckburg. The city was pretty when the orange of the setting sun hit it from this angle. The buildings all had an orange tint–white was now a light orange, pink started to turn coral, blue began turning a grey-brown color. The birds were quick black blobs, whizzing past the skyline. They trudged back up the beach and glanced back at the boat. They almost felt bad for camping near the boat during the day, but the view was… stunning.

[Y/N] slowly climbed off the beach with a mission in mind. Going home. It wasn’t so fun in the dark. They kicked the sand off of their feet on the sidewalk then ran across the street.

“There goes the weird kid again.” The folk whispered as they crossed the three-way intersection.

“Quick, guard your belongings.” One guarded their belongings as [Y/N] walked past the outdoor restaurant tables.

“I bet those kids by the docks have their hands in this.” A couple leaned close together and murmured as they watched [Y/N] pass them with their hands in their pockets and no food in sight.

An elder spoke up. “That Donald Duck is not qualified to raise kids if he lets one of them go around thieving.”

Donald Duck. That’s a name to remember. They began to wonder if the whispers ever reached the ears of this Donald Duck character.

[Y/N] slunk into the alley between the newest Italian restaurant and the local coffee shop, both places usually had plenty of food simply tossed out back rather than thrown away properly or donated as they are required to be doing. Breads may have been stale, and pizzas have been burnt to a crisp and the extra’s on the menu ended up back here as well. The day felt different, almost as if something in the air had changed. Perhaps when the crazy scientist on the news station from the morning claimed to be making artificial air, he wasn’t joking. Air in a bottle would be weird. Flies circled the trash bags that have been sitting for days. [Y/N] watched them as they seemingly slowed down and paid close attention to them as they flew rhythmically.

They turned their attention to the slowly dimming orange light of the sun. As if hiding in an alley didn’t make the sun less vibrant already. [Y/N] watched as the folks elongated shadows disappeared to the left and right of the restaurant and coffee shop. They all seemed to be actively avoiding walking past the alley unless they were across the street. A lovely alley cat rattled a nearby trashcan as it ran up to [Y/N] begging them for their food. They would love to give the poor alley cat food, but they only found a few uncontaminated loaves of bread for themselves. The alley cate stared deep into their eyes. [Y/N] blinked and ripped their loaf in half and placed the half on the ground for the thin cat.

[Y/N] jumped at the sound of a heavy metal door hitting the back wall of the alley and the stray alley cat ran back behind the trashcans with their half of the loaf.

“Sir, the kid is back.” A barista holding trash bags yelled back into her building to her manager.

“Kid, I’ve told you, you can’t hang out back here.” The coffee shop manager stood in the doorway with his arms crossed.

[Y/N] blinked up at the manager with a mouthful of bread. “Sorry, I guess I forgot.”

“Go home.” He sighed.

[Y/N] pulled themselves up off the ground and scooped up the other loaf of bread that they saved. They walked back into the now blueish-grey city. Their eyes flicked towards the birds of the night flocking to their favorite tree to squawk at some unsuspecting night-time runners. They quickly turned their attention to a pair of squirrels running towards a bird-less tree. The night was rather dull and empty, unusual for a Thursday. If today even was Thursday. [Y/N] couldn’t remember what they said the date was on the news this morning when they spent their last wad of cash on breakfast, in fact the only thing they remember from the news was that weird scientist and his air in a bottle.

They began their walk towards their makeshift shelter behind the abandoned mini mall (those strips of small business complexes that were “malls” because they had mall-type stores before malls became large indoor shopping centers–or more recently outdoor malls with the shape of indoor malls but were outdoor strips like strip malls). [Y/N] used to sleep inside the old mom-and-pop owned mattress store on one of the beds that was left behind when the strip went bankrupt from Scrooge McDuck’s unnecessary rent cost. Recently, one of Scrooge McDuck’s businesses bought the complex and cleared out each of the buildings, leaving them with nothing inside and no more inside access by changing the locks upon purchase. [Y/N] had no choice but to make themselves a shelter outside of the mall where no one would bother them as it is technically still abandoned as far as the city cares.

The makeshift shelter consisted of an old sleeping bag that they stole from a sports store–apparently camping is a sport, a makeshift tent made from stilts, blankets, and nails. The tent was really only there to ensure that no one would steal the few things that they owned. A bookbag full of clothes, a small selection of pocketknives, and a pot for cooking. Wood for building a very small flame was gathered depending on whether or not it was needed for food–typically the nights they would sneak onto the ships that sailed into the docks to import goods and fish. Fish at the docks was far from sushi-grade salmon; cooked or suffer the consequences. The boats that sailed in sometimes weren’t unloaded until the following day because they were essentially giant fridges inside, so at least they had that advantage compared to the market and the city shops. The market that surrounded the dock was a bit of a gamble to steal from because it had to be done in broad daylight.

[Y/N] sat down on their sleeping bag and bounded their legs against their feet like butterfly wings flapping–not to be confused with a moth. Not sure why those two things would be confused but butterflies are more pleasing to look at. Moths are terrifying. Their mind wandered to this Donald Duck character. Did he own the boat at the docks that they hung around? If so, why would the folk accuse him of having been involved with their scheme to eat? If he did own the boat, did he catch wind of the accusations? If he ever met them, would he be mad at them?

They laid back and smack their hands to their head in distress. They shook their head and laughed at those pesky thoughts. Somedays it wasn’t just the words spoken aloud that never seemed to let anyone catch up with them, it was also the words spoken in thought that never seemed to allow [Y/N] to catch up.

[Y/N] smiled as they watched the early morning market stalls begin to open up. The fish stalls were closest to the docks and the water while the more agricultural stalls were closer to the land–neat and smart. They took a deep breath; waiting for the stall owners to quit paying attention was so hard. They tapped their foot against the wooden boards impatiently and suddenly they sprinted towards the most appealing fish stall: flat Calisota fish. Sanddabs! They slowed their pace and crouched alongside the front of the stall to remain mostly unseen by the owner who hadn’t notice them yet. They quickly reached into the front most bin of Sanddabs and grabbed two by the tail. [Y/N] dashed towards the agricultural stalls, almost got out scot-free and yet they slowed their pace as they neared the fruits and vegetables, distracted by the boat engine coughing in the distance.

“That kid stole fish!” A deep voice yelled behind them. Heavy footsteps pounded against the boards after them.

[Y/N] exhaled slowly and stared at the shaking boat in the distance. The engine suddenly stopped, and the sound of incoherent yelling floated towards them.

“Grab that kid!” A female voice rang. The sound of a body hitting the sturdy wood echoed behind them.

[Y/N] turned to face the voices that caught them in the act, only for a tight grip to envelope their arm, giving no wiggle room. They thrashed in the large fisherman’s hand, the groaned and grunted as they tried to pull themselves away. All to no avail and they gave themselves an Indian burn.

“Drop the fish, kid.” The fisherman loomed over them. The fisherman wore a yellow raincoat and a matching hat. He had a hook for a left hand and a scar over his left eye. [Y/N]’s imagination ran wild, the swore they saw a flash of lightening behind this monster of a living-thing.

“No way!” [Y/N] continued to wriggle in the fisherman’s grasp. They twisted their arm and tried to walk backwards to get away only for their hand to be unable to slip through the fisherman’s fist.

He shook his head. “Then you got to pay for them.” His voice drew the attention of the entire market. It was a deep, but scratchy voice. He sounded like one of those characters from a ghost story. The Fisherman! That’s a story [Y/N] could write about one day. A horror novel about a scary, tall, freakish boat dweller. A hook for a hand, a scar over one eye, and thirsty for… Blood!

“I don’t have anything, but I have to eat too!” They tried pulling themselves away from the fisherman by using their free hand to free their trapped hand. The fisherman’s grip was tight. Painful even. And no amount of struggle was getting them anywhere – the fisherman had delt with rascals like them before, obviously, and the fisherman was no doubt someone that used to go to the gym. [Y/N] dropped the bag of sanddab and grunted as they kept trying to pull away with some useless strategy. Their heels slid across the boards as they failed to pull back. “Come on! Let go! I’m starving!”

“That’s the dumb kid that hangs around the Duck’s houseboat. I bet you steal for them, you little thief.” A slender fisherwoman noted. She was tall and lanky. Her nails were as sharp as some of the cruel words she kept to herself. “You know, kid, you shouldn’t steal. It might get you into some real trouble someday.” She laughed a velvety maniacal laugh as she reached down and grabbed the fallen fish with her nails.

“Give those back! I stole them square!” [Y/N] thrashed.

The fisherman released them from their grasped and laughed as [Y/N] hurled themselves into the ground. “You didn’t get far enough to steal them square, kid. If that Duck fellow is smart, he’d teach you how to steal properly.” The fisherman poked his hook through the two fish and walked towards the stall they came from.

“Run on home, you don’t want the authorities involved, do you?” The fisherwoman offered her warning.

[Y/N] shook their head and pulled themselves to their feet.

“And tell your old man to quit sending you out here. It’s getting pretty old.” She mused.

“I don’t know the guy who lives in that stupid boat! I just want to eat, why won’t you folks believe me?” [Y/N] raised their voice.

The fisherwoman shook her head. “I’m not going to tell you to get lost again. If we see you around here again, the nice chief of police will deal with you, and you can say bye-bye to your family.”

[Y/N] rubbed their arm and stomped away. These folk don’t seem to listen! They don’t know the family in the boat, they just hang around that area. They’re not family to [Y/N]. But having a family does sound nice. They pace back and forth across the street.

What to do?

What to do?

Do I steal from that family to prove to these folk that I’m not one of them? Do I let that family live without suffering from me thieving from them?

What to do?

What to do?

[Y/N] stopped in their tracks and watched the boat. The three boys ran off the boat yelling their goodbyes to their dad. They sighed and sat down on the curb. Their stomach was rumbling, and it was Fish Friday. It could easily be turned into Pizza Friday or Chicken Friday or something of the sorts, couldn’t it? It could, but they wanted Fish Friday. They didn’t want to keep missing out but sometimes they have to. [Y/N] picked up a white pebble and scraped it along the sizzling Calisota road. White streaks followed their hand movement. It’s a pebble but it draws like it is chalk. Weird. But today has to be Pizza Friday or something at this rate. The Italian restaurant doesn’t open until noon on Friday’s. It was a weird thought but if this family of four was getting hounded for their actions, how much trouble were they really causing? And is the dad a single dad? He must be, [Y/N] has never seen another adult leave or enter the boat. Slowly, they started to feel worse. A dad of three having to deal with the consequences of [Y/N]’s actions.

Ugh!

They continued to scrap the little pebble across the ground and felt as it shrunk. They bounced their legs–right, left, right, left–in rapid succession.

“Hey! What’s the big idea!” An incoherent voice shouted.

“Well, if it isn’t Donald Duck,” the fisherman chuckled. “Come to pick up your thieving brat?” The fisherman pointed at [Y/N].

The short duck, called Donald Duck, looked over at [Y/N]. “That’s not one of my boys.” He protested.

“You’re pulling my leg, Duck.” The fisherman crossed his arms. “You’re trying to tell me that that kid, sitting right there, isn’t yours? They play around the boat. I’ve never seen them anywhere else.”

“I only have three boys.” Donald began.

The fisherman put his hand up. “I don’t want to hear it, Duck. Until you straighten that kid you, your whole family isn’t allowed here. That means quit thieving. You hear?”

[Y/N] accidentally locked eyes with this Donald Duck character. They stood up and prepared for the worst confrontation of their life. Or so they thought. Their jittery brain moved their legs father than they could think of what to do next. They ran through the streets.

“Sorry!”

“’Scuse me!”

“My bad!”

[Y/N] ran through a crowd waiting for a bus and swerved between folk just simply walking. They ran in front of a couple of cyclists and nearly knocked them all down. [Y/N] huffed as they neared the empty public park. The climbed up the slide and hid in the peak. [Y/N] breathed heavily and leaned against the circular rocket wall.

Almost caught!

They squeezed their eyes shut. The “duck” who lived in the houseboat must be furious with them now. Getting him banned from the market because everyone there thinks they are one of his boys. There has to be something they can do.

[Y/N] scooted toward the slide and slid down. They sat at the end of the slid and looked around. Empty as it should be. They ran back to their makeshift shelter with a brilliant plan in mind, sneaking through their usual shortcuts between shops and businesses. Taking 7th Avenue versus taking 13th Avenue. Climbing an apartment buildings fire escape and jumping from fire escape to fire escape, then from rooftop to rooftop, until they reach the corner of Main and 2nd. They jumped from the roof of the pizzeria onto the large oak tree they planted outside of their building. [Y/N] climbed down the tree and walked toward the abandoned strip mall. That actually was not a shortcut, that took a lot longer than [Y/N] had hoped! Maybe they’re losing their touch or time itself is slowing down.

Like a curse!

Oh no, a curse!

[Y/N] walked toward the little strip mall and inhaled. They looked at themselves in the reflection of the dust covered glass. Tattered clothes, the graphic print was faded into near nothingness, hair was a knotted mess–hairbrushes were hard to find. [Y/N] turned around at the sight of a red aircraft taking off from nearby. They walked out from under the awning and watched the craft waver and stagger in the sky. They looked down at their clothes–the color was easier to see when looking down. Brown and blue. [Y/N] turned and walked around the building.

Home sweet h–awe man.

They came face to face with a notice on their tent–how gracious of the new building owners to let them know they only have today to remove themselves from the premises or they will be removed by force or by the authorities (which was by force but with extra steps). They laughed at the notice and crumpled it in their hands and dropped it at their feet. They grabbed their bag and slung it over their shoulder and rolled their sleeping bag up and secured it with three thinning rope pieces. The tent can stay, it’s not worth moving as they have no way to carry it or dismantle the stilt skeleton.

[Y/N] held their sleeping bag under their arm and slowly walked away from the building. They could check the homeless shelters again to see if there were any spaces for them now, or they could skip that and go straight to sleeping on the side of the roads again. They weighed their options and felt like the first option would just land them on the street automatically. It wasn’t so bad sleeping in the open but falling off of a bench definitely felt bad though.

[Y/N] walked on, falling out of touch with reality. They walked out to the docks where there was a single dinghy with their name on it. The SS [Y/N] was ready to set sail into the unknown. They breathed in the salty and fishy sea and threw their sleeping bag and bookbag over the side of the dinghy. [Y/N] looked behind them to take in one last look of Duckburg. The city skyline was bright, it was almost as if they could see everything. The colors of the taller buildings against the shorter ones. The clear avoidance of looking at Flintheart Glomgold and Scrooge McDuck’s buildings. They turned on their heel and climbed into the dinghy and set sail to who knows where! Adventure! Mystery! New life! And danger awaited them!

“YOU!” A scratchy voice called.

“Huh?” [Y/N] found themselves back in reality, walking past the public park yet again–no help from that so-called shortcut.

“Get back here!” The scratchy voice called again. “You need to stop causing trouble!”

[Y/N] stared at the duck from earlier. Run? Run. The answer was to run and avoid confrontation. They ran toward the park and ducked underneath the slide. The duck followed them into the park, yelling incoherently for them to stop running from him so that they could talk. Talking was most definitely[Y/N]’s strong suit but confrontation was not. They ran out from under the playground and toward the fence. [Y/N] came to a screeching halt at the fence. They peered through a crack between two panels. Sweet alleyway. They thew their sleeping bag over the top of the fence and quickly looked back at the angry, unintelligible duck chasing them. They jumped up and just barely grabbed the top of the fence. They started to swing their legs until they could get their heel over the top. Using their heel and their leg strength, [Y/N] threw themselves over the fence and landed on their sleeping bag with a thump.

“Oof–.”

[Y/N] dove into the alleyway and hid behind an empty dumpster. The duck that was chasing them ran straight into the fence with a thump and shouted some explicit words that they have only heard Ma Beagle and the Beagle Boys use in public. The duck thumped his head against the fence softly and sighed.

“I just want to talk to you,” he said.

[Y/N] only held their breath and waited for the duck to disappear. They blinked at the wall in front of them and slowly slipped away from reality to imagine what catastrophe might occur of they came face to face with this crazy duck from the docks.

[Y/N] stood up and walked toward the fence. “Only if you move away from the fence. I’ll come back over.” They spoke slowly. They jumped up and peered over the top of the fence to see that the mysterious duck had backed away from the fence. “I’m coming back over. Watch out.” They said as a warning. [Y/N] swung their leg over the fence flawlessly and flipped themselves over. They landed on their feet as if they had been practicing fence jumping their entire life. They looked up at the duck–he was rather calm for having just screamed incoherently for what seemed like a very long time (well, save for the red flesh-tone poking out from underneath his feathers).

“What are you causing all kinds of trouble for, kid?” He restrained himself.

[Y/N] shrugged their shoulders. “I have to eat. This is how I eat.”

The duck stared at them. “You steal to eat? Where are you parents?”

[Y/N] sighed. “If I had any, do you think I’d be stealing?”

The duck remained silent; it was a valid point.

They outstretched their arms. “My clothes look like I pulled them out of a woodchipper, I don’t even have warm clothes because I can’t find any. I used to live behind the old mattress store, but I was told to leave by one of Scrooge McDuck’s stupid businesses or I’d be in serious trouble, and I don’t want to talk to any mean cops. I can’t even find a brush to brush my hair, okay? This is the reality!” Their voice strained.

“You don’t have any family anywhere?” He asked.

“None.” They spoke.

The duck fell silent again and pulled out a phone. “Someone needs to get involved. No kid should be out here like this.”

“No don’t do that!” They smacked the duck’s phone out of his hands.

In the blink of an eye, the entire police unit jumped out of the shadows and surrounded them.

[Y/N] gasped and hit their head against the wall of the building. They blinked and looked around at the alley. “Man, I’m good at making up scenarios that will never happen.” They whispered to themselves. [Y/N] got up and walked toward the fence again and peered through the crack between two panels. There was no one there. No one was waiting. No one was going to get involved. They sighed, relieved and hid back behind the dumpster for the night.

[Y/N] woke up to a black sky with specks of twinkling glitter. They sat up and rubbed their hands together–it was a little chilly without the sleeping bag encasing them. They slung the bag over their shoulders and picked up their sleeping bag. They peered out of the crack in the fence again and saw nothing except for streetlights illuminating the park and a single raccoon racing its own shadow. They threw their sleeping bag back over the fence and groaned. Actually, they don’t even remember falling asleep–how did that happen?

Again, we go!

They jumped up and grabbed the top of the fence and swung their leg up a handful of times and whined. “This is so much easier in the movies!” They swung their leg up again until they finally got their foot over the top of the fence and flipped themselves over the fence. [Y/N] landed on their sleeping bag with a thump, they rolled off of the bag onto their side. They were so much better at this in their little fictional scenario…

Not cool.

They got up onto their feet.

About that brilliant idea I forgot about.

A gift! Yeah!

And ran toward the docks. The boats were at the docks. That was a good sign. That meant [Y/N] could get their hands on something delicious and raw. They ran across the shaky wooden dock and up to the side of the boat. They backed up, dropped their sleeping bag and bookbag close to the main dock building, and ran, giving themselves enough momentum to jump and land on the deck. And they did just that–sort of. They rolled on the deck and kept rolling until they were in front of the hatch. They opened the hatch. All fishing boats kept their catches below deck, for obvious reason, especially in these new prototype freezer boats. They peered down the now open hatch of the boat and stared down at the stored fish with the help of the moon. They jumped down and looked for the smallest crate of fish. They weaved through the barrels and ice coolers of freshly caught fish until they reached the crates of ready to sell fish. A single crate of five fish on ice wouldn’t hurt for them to miss, would it? It would be a great gift, right? [Y/N] grabbed the top crate and hauled it towards the open hatch. They set the crate down at their feet and turned back around. There has to be a lid somewhere. They ventured back into the freezer and looked around for something that resembled a lid. Most of what was down here were fish, full crates, and empty crates. They shuddered and walked back towards the open hatch and pulled the ladder down. [Y/N] picked the crate back up and climbed up the ladder with one hand and little to no balance.

Once they reached the deck the set the crate down on the deck and leaned over onto their stomach and crawled forward. They turned around and stuck their hand down the hatch and pulled the ladder back up as if they were never there. They then closed the hatch and jumped to their feet. [Y/N] grabbed the crate and held it with their arms over the fish just resting on top. Without much thought, [Y/N] ran in the direction of the dock jumped over the little boat wall onto the dock. They landed on their feet but lost their balance and fell backward.

“Ha-ha!” They laughed with pride. “Success!”

[Y/N] scrambled to their feet and walked towards their bags–now it’s just a game of carrying everything without dropping it all. They set the crate of fish down and slung their bookbag back over their shoulder and lifted held the crate of fish under their arm as if they were carrying a laundry basket and held their sleeping bag under their other arm. The ice will keep the fish cool for a while, but fish alone isn’t sufficient enough. There must be something else [Y/N] could give to the duck that lives in the houseboat.

They walked away from the market dock and back towards the quiet city. The streetlights illuminated everything. Flies, stray animals, wild animals, trash spilling out of the alleyways, and folk just like them. [Y/N] scurried past everything and everyone that focused on their crate of iced fish.

Gotta hide now.

Gotta get to one of those superstores.

[Y/N] turned the corner and started walking in the direction of Duckburg’s 24-hr superstore. The store is said to have it all: groceries, costumes, home appliances, furniture, technology, crafts, plants, and more. Crazy to think that a store could hold so much–terrible to think that it’s okay to be open 24-hrs. Yuck! Two gifts will always be better than one and this superstore is the best place to get another gift. Probably.

I have no idea what that boat dweller likes.

What would you get someone that you’ve inconvenienced?

[Y/N] stood on the barely occupied parking lot. “Oh, my God.” The store from the outside was huge. Now where were they going to hide their stuff while the looked to steal? They looked around the parking lot.

Open space.

More open space,

Oh look, bushes.

More open space,

Wait, bushes!

[Y/N] slowly walked towards the far side of the parking lot the housed the bushes in question. The parking lot was very empty and dark along this side. No one seemed to park over in this direction and for some reason they didn’t install as many lights. Kind of convenient! Maybe the lack of lights is what caused there to be no cars? They picked up their pace as they were somehow moving too slow for their own liking. They set the crate of fish down in the bushes–more ice might be in order for these guys. [Y/N] set down their sleeping bag and untied the breaking ropes. They promptly emptied the contents of their bookbag onto the sleeping bag and rolled it back up in order to protect what little they owned. They rolled the sleeping bag back up and walked towards the store.

[Y/N] walked through the automatic sliding doors and was wowed instantly. The store went on for miles and miles! They looked around with large, surprised eyes and they smiled at how far back the walls go. They walked further into the store and followed the hanging signs. This section is clothes, this one is kitchen appliances. That one toward the back is electronics. [Y/N] has no idea what to look for in this disaster of a store–maybe they can find the arts and crafts section and make this duck something. They had no idea where to start their little gift hunting adventure. [Y/N] turned on their heel and walked toward the kitchen appliances. Pots and pans!

Grown-ups seem to have an endless supply of pots and pans. I am giving him fish so maybe I can give him new pots and pans for the fish.

[Y/N] stared at all of the different types of pans. Stainless Steel, Non-stick, Carbon Steel, Stone Earth, classic pans, double pans, and Iron pans! They are way in over their head right now. They had, however, heard that the newest fancy-folk restaurant uses the Stone Earth pans. If a restaurant uses something that means they’re good, right? They blinked at the ashy stone-colored pan set and grabbed it off of the hook and shrugged. A set of five should be good enough. They glanced to their sides to ensure no one was watching and stuffed the pans in their empty bookbag.

Ice, ice baby!

[Y/N] walked out of the aisle, lost. No idea where to find ice. They huffed and walked towards the front of the store where most grocery stores usually kept their ice. They were greeted with a sign on the ice cooler: “Ice temporarily unavailable at this location.” They groaned. With how early in the day it is, o other store was open and [Y/N] stole those fish for nothing! They stomped out of the store and snickered as they got out without any alarms wailing about a stolen product. [Y/N] continued to drag their feet as they walked all the way to where they had hidden their belongings.

[Y/N] climbed up the side of the houseboat with one arm and coughed out some water they had inhaled. They dropped the Stone-Earth pan set–wrapped in their sleeping bag to avoid getting drenched with salt water–over the ledge of the boat. They hurled themselves over the boat and lay on their side, coughing out ore water they have inhaled. Salt water does not taste that grand, it’s a zero-star review. [Y/N] rolled onto their hands and knees and slowly pulled themselves to their feet using the wall next to them. The boys had left about 40 minutes ago, and the Donald Duck character had left about 15 minutes ago. [Y/N] should be in the clear.

They unrolled their sleeping bag and pulled the pan set out. The packaging got a little wet but that wouldn’t hurt any of the pans, right? [Y/N] rolled the sleeping bag back up and secured it with their last surviving rope (not for long) and looped their hand through the rope, holding the knot as an extra safety measure. They walked along the deck until the found was they thought was a “front” door, it was probably just the door to the hull (the hull? The house part?). [Y/N] jiggled the doorknob–locked, as expected.

[Y/N] walked in circles wondering, now, how to sneak the gift through the door. They aren’t a magician, it’s not like they can snap their fingers and poof! The gift is inside.

“Why you–! What’s the big idea? What are you doing here?” The scratchy voice called out.

“Busted.” They whispered to themselves. “Maybe not.”

He angrily walked up and onto the boat. “What are–?”

[Y/N] held the set of pans in front of their face and squeezed their eyes shut. “This is for you. I know those folks at the dock have been giving you loads of trouble ‘cause of me and I thought I could give you something for it. I was hoping to leave it or that someone was home to take it for you. I didn’t mean the run from you yesterday. Those same folks were giving me trouble–that’s nothing new though.” They slowly lowered and pan and peered over it to view the duck before them.

“That’s… awfully kind of you.” Donald eyed them.

“I don’t want to be your enemy or have those folk make enemies out of you. It’s not right. I don’t know what they expect me to do. I still haven’t found a new place to sleep. And no one even listens to me. I can scream so loud about not being one of your kids, but they don’t hear me. Just ‘cause they see me by the water, they think I belong to you. I just like the way the water looks from over there.” [Y/N] motioned their head towards where they usually camp out in the day. “Your boats nice. I want to live on a boat one day–sail away from Duckburg and all the people here. There’s nothing for me here anyway, I just have no way of getting a boat right now. Here, take the gift.” They shoved the pans toward Donald.

Donald took the gift from their hand. “How’d you get these–actually don’t tell me.”

[Y/N] smiled up at Donald. “I hope they’re good. I heard that new fancy-folk restaurant up near Mister Glomgold’s building uses these types of pans. I thought that if a restaurant uses them, they must be really good. I didn’t really know what to get you to say that I’m sorry for causing all kinds of trouble. I really didn’t mean to be a pain.”

“Would you like to come in for brunch?” Donald asked.

[Y/N] shook their head. “I should leave you be. You must be busy and all. I’ve seen your boys around, they’re crazy. They must be so lucky that you put up with them. I wish I had someone to put up with me.” They flashed Donald a small smile and slowly walked off of the boat. “Oh!” They turned on their heels.

“Yes?” Donald nearly perked up as if they were going to change their mind.

“I promise not to cause trouble around here anymore. It’s not fair to you.” They turned back around and walked toward the city. Blocking out any sound that wasn’t the ocean or the screeching of the seagulls, they ran across the street with nothing to do and nowhere to go.

[Y/N] walked where their thoughts guided them: the police station. Surely that was a smart plan, an action plan. The stuck-up police can guide them in the right direction–more like take control of the situation. Was even walking in that direction smart anymore? [Y/N] paused across the street of the horrific police station. The grey building with black and blue accents and lightening behind it. Suddenly, the thought of using these folk for help was a bad thought and an even worse idea. They gulp and they ran across the street, having no regard for street laws. [Y/N] ran straight to the revolving doors and spun around them thrice for the sake of spinning a third time. They stumbled, partially dizzy, into the station and up to the front desk.

“Can you help?” They squeaked.

“Of course, what can I help you with, kiddo?” The officer at the front desk asked.

[Y/N] took a deep breath. “My names [Y/N] and I can’t find any room at any of the shelters. Is there any way you can help me with that?”

The officer furrowed his eyebrows in distress. “No room at the homeless shelter, ‘ey? Well, let me see if Officer Cabrera is available. Just between you and me, she might have to ship you out to one of the local orphanages–and they aren’t local.” The officer turned away from [Y/N] and lifted the phone.

[Y/N] stared, breathless. Orphanage. Out of Duckburg. For some reason that felt wrong to them now. It was practically a dream come true to get out of Duckburg, they just weren’t leaving on a boat. That glimmer of hope that that Donald Duck character had when they turned on their heel, what was all that about?

The officer faced [Y/N] again. “She’ll be back in about 30 minutes. She’s going to make some calls on her way here to get something sorted out. It’s a good thing you came by. How about I call for some lunch for you?”

[Y/N]’s eyes sparkled. “Lunch? I’m starving. Can I get some seafood? Oh, no! Maybe some sandwiches instead. I do also like pizza. I’m not going to lie; I really like a lot of foods.”

“Slow down. I was thinking pizza since they deliver. What toppings–?” The officer asked.

“Meat lovers! Or chicken, bacon, and ranch! Veggie pizzas are always good! Caprese pizzas are yummy! I can’t decide!” [Y/N] threw their arms over the front desk. “You can pick for me. I’m not picky. How nice is Officer Cabrera? Who is she calling?”

The officer raised his eyebrows as he watched [Y/N] move and talk a mile a minute. “Right, let’s go with cheese. And she’s, um, just making phone calls. Seeing if we can find out if you have family.” The officer paused.

“If I do, they’re not in Duckburg. And it’s not like they’ll just up and take me when they get a phone call. Folk, even family, don’t are all too much. I would know.” [Y/N] snarled. “Don’t even bother looking for any family, if I had any that cared they would’ve helped back when mom and dad–.” They paused as the tears started to form. The pushed away from the front desk and stomped over to the chairs.

“We’ll do everything we can to get you out of this situation, alright?” The officer changed their tone entirely. They voice was now soft and trying to express some level of understanding–the officer will never understand.

[Y/N] sat in the chair and kicked their feet up and swung them back down. They were frustrated, maybe even a little sad now, with even coming here. The officer wanted to help but family was not the way to start. They didn’t even want to know right away what might happen to them when that Officer Cabrera arrives, but the officer at the front desk told them anyway assuming that they wanted to know what was probably going to happen.

They wandered back to that Donald Duck character. Why did he want [Y/N] to stay for brunch? Was he going to call the cops? Did he just want to talk to them? Now [Y/N] wished they stayed back and found out.

“Wait!”

“Stop!”

“Huh?” [Y/N] turned around to see the same duck coming back into the picture for what seemed like the hundredth time.

“Donald Duck.” Officer Cabrera crossed her arms and watched the hot-headed duck approach them. “What are you doing here?”

Donald came to a screeching halt. “They’re my responsibility.” He huffed and pointed at [Y/N].

“Do you have legal proof?” Officer Cabrera asked.

Donald gulped and motioned for Officer Cabrera to step to the side with him.

[Y/N] stood in front of the police car with a slice of pizza in hand and the look of confusion written all over their face. They watched the adults whisper aggressively back and forth while motioning sporadically at [Y/N]. Words such as “homeless” and “proper care” and “orphanage” and “chance” were thrown around in haste. [Y/N] bobbed from heel to toe as they decided it was time to look up–literally, not figurately. Gloomy clouds started to roll over. A large flock of black dots flew strategically away from the clouds, presumably somewhere where they would be dry. The oncoming wind blew a few drops of grease down [Y/N]’s hand. Instinctively, they licked the grease drops.

Officer Cabrera shook her head as she returned to the police car. She clicked the keys and popped open the trunk. “Here’s what I bought today. Clothes and toiletries. I except to see you here next Monday for that meeting I’m going to be setting up.” Her expression quickly changes from hard to a sweet smile. “Until then, [Y/N], keep Mr. Duck here out of trouble for me.” She winked.

Donald tugged at his collar and let out a nervous laugh. He quickly grabbed they few plastic store bags of items for [Y/N] out of the trunk. “What do you mean keep me out of trouble?”

“We’ll see you Monday, Mr. Duck.” Officer Cabrera slammed the trunk shut and crossed her arms.

“What’s going on?” [Y/N] watched Donald walk past.

Donald looked over his shoulder. “Are you coming?”

[Y/N] jogged after Donald. “What are you doing?”

“I’m taking you home.” Donald said nonchalantly. “And on Monday I’m starting the process.”

[Y/N] raised their eyebrows. “What process? I don’t like when you grown-ups talk in riddles. Riddles never helped anyone! I don’t have a home, so I don’t understand where you’re taking me.” They followed close behind Donald and wiped their hands on their shirt to get the crumbs from their pizza off their hands. “Officer Cabrera was supposed to take me somewhere today.”

Donald nodded. “And I changed those plans. You’re coming home with me. On Monday, I have to start–.”

“Wait, wait, wait. Did you just kidnap me?” [Y/N] asked.

“No.”

[Y/N] narrowed their eyes. “Surprise adoption? It’s like kidnapping but legal.”

Donald blinked. “Surprise adoption?”

[Y/N] fist bumped. “Yes! I knew it! I knew it! I knew it! Look out world, [Y/N] has a new home! And a new life!” They laughed. The laughed died out and [Y/N] sunk into their thoughts. They looked across the street at a mother and her two children. The children were like two peas in a pod. They then noticed a mother and a father and their two children getting along. [Y/N] shook their head and tried to focus on walking. But they couldn’t just walk. They thought about Donald’s three boys and if they would all get along. Their hands felt clammy, and they began to feel sick about the whole thing. What if because they were new, the boys didn’t like them? What if the boys just didn’t like them because they were causing trouble or because they were formerly homeless? What if? What if? What if?

“Gah!” [Y/N] threw their hands in the air. “What if they hate me?” They blurted out.

“Who?” Donald asked.

They forgot he was here… “Your boys! What if they hate me for being new? Or because I was causing trouble? Do they even know about me causing all that trouble? Do they even know that you’re bringing me home? I don’t want them to hate me for all that.” [Y/N] inhaled deeply. “I got so caught in you taking me with you that I didn’t even think about them.”

Donald stopped walking and turned to face [Y/N], who walked into him. “They won’t hate you. I’m sure they’ll just teach you new ways to cause trouble–that’s all they do.”

[Y/N] looked up and Donald and balled their fists. “Okay! Let’s go.”

“I’m surprised you understand me.” Donald said.

“Huh?” [Y/N] looked over at him.

Donald sighed. “I’m surprised you understand me.”

“What, with the talking thing? I understand you perfectly fine. Your voice sounds a little rough and earsplitting, but I can understand you fine.” [Y/N] ran up the boat ramp. “Is this boat magic? It looks so small from here. I bet it’s bigger on the inside, isn’t it?”

“That’s what the boys tell me.” Donald chuckled. He set [Y/N]’s bags down next to the door and pulled out his keys. He unlocked the door and turned on his heel to see that [Y/N] had grabbed their bags, ready to go downstairs. Donald led them down the stairs. “Are you alright sleeping on an air mattress tonight if I can’t get you a bed?”

“I’ll sleep on an air mattress forever. Which room?” [Y/N] started walking.

Donald pulled their bags out of their hands and walked towards the door intended for [Y/N]. [Y/N] pushed the door open and smiled at the room. A triple bunk tucked in one corner. Red was on the top, blue was in the middle, and green was on the bottom bunk. There was an air mattress just below the round window with bedsheets and pillows stacked high with an assortment of colors. The closet tucked away on the back wall as full and overflowing with blues. Next to the closet were three dressers. One was overflowing with greens and the other two were neat and nothing was spilling out. The floor was a disaster–toys and things and papers everywhere to the point they were swimming in stuff.

“Uncle Donald! We’re home.” One of the boys called.

“The far dresser is going to be yours.” Donald said.

[Y/N] dragged their bags toward the far dresser and pointed at it. “This one?” The set the bags of clothes and necessities down in front of the dresser and already began filling it haphazardly. “This is so cool.”

“Hey Uncle Donald, what’s going on?” Another one of the boys asked.

“Uncle Donald surprise adopted us a fourth sibling.” The third boy said. “I’m Dewey.”

[Y/N] paused in their tracks. “I’m [Y/N]. And you’re right, I was surprise adopted. I’m surprised!”

“These are my brothers, Huey, the red one and Louie, the green one.” Dewey introduced his siblings.

“Huey, Dewey, and Louie.” [Y/N] pointed at each triplet and listed who they were.

Donald stood in the doorway with his hand against his head. “It’s not really a surprise adoption.”

[sw124]

Ask Sun and Moon AU

[Reader!Insert]

New Addition!

[curse you @shandzii you made me do this…but man I love your version of Sun and Moon! Also shout out to @rainy-nomad thanks to your four armed version of Sun and Moon I created Clover…yes to all you fans of mine Clover will be in this. This version of her will only have two arms. I couldn’t help myself! This is a Y/N story yes, I love the reader insert aspect and….I may do more with Clover in other versions]

“I can’t wait to see the look on their faces when they get a load of you!” You chuckled, they were adding the finishing touches on a their newest creation for the daycare.

You tilted its head back and with a freshly dipped paintbrush began painting the little details on the face, three black flower-petal eyelashes for both eyes, then a nice spring green for the eye color, followed by two adorable little shamrocks on the cheeks. Next came the clothing choice, sticking with the ‘green theme’ you pulled out a large oversized nightshirt Moon left out once. You had a friend make some alterations and added a large patch on the front, followed by some striped pants from a clown costume, green ballet shoes. Lacing them up was a bitch but eh, it brought he look together.

You stepped back…..she looked like those old harlequin dolls old ladies collected, you started noticing somethings you added in…probably unconsciously. The button nose for one…too much Cuphead cartoons you thought but if it works it works. She defiantly had a type of ‘rubber hose’ cartoon look to her which was adorable.

“Alright the easy parts over…..now the hard part…what the hell to call you.” You sighed, you hadn’t thought of a single name for this thing.

……Then you had a ‘face palm’ moment, it was fucking staring right at you!

[Later at midnight]

You made triple sure not to get caught when the lights went out, you wanted this surprise to STAY a surprise, especially for Moon. You were carrying this said ‘surprise’ on your back for a bit before opting for one of the strollers, they were small enough to fit….but it still looked pretty damn suspicious of you to push around a stroller. Thankfully your ‘surprise’ was staying quiet, after a quick jog you made it to the Daycare.

Now came a bit of a challenge…sneaking the surprise in without Sun noticing, peeking through the Daycare doors you saw him cleaning up. He was going back to his room above the ballpit to get something, this was the perfect!

Quickly you picked up your little ‘surprise’ and brought them in, hiding them in one of the tubes of the play-structure. You were sure this was going to be epic….

Until the lights suddenly went off.

You froze, checking your watch…it wasn’t even the end of the hour why the hell did the lights go off?! You told the surprise to stay where they were and crawled back out, you quickly scanned the area. It was gonna be bad if Moon found the surprise first, you wanted to introduce him slowly to the ‘surprise’ but that wasn’t gonna happen now.

“Well~ your here early~”

Well shit…..you caught sight of Moon right above you, taking a chance you looked over and saw the ‘surprise’ staring…an instantly you forgot that the ‘surprise’ had light up eyes! You tried to think of a way both tell the ‘surprise’ to hide but not alert Moon…at least your ‘surprise’ was smart and covered their face.

“Hey freak.” You said.

Moon gave his usual villain chuckle, you knew him well enough to know he wasn’t mean…just an asshole…a child friendly one at times.

“Now, there’s not need for name calling, though I’m willing to forgive….if you tell me what your hiding.”

…..Fuck he saw….well of course he did! Pinching the bridge of your nose in frustration…you stared directly at the nap-time animatronic before getting out your flashlight.

“Its a surprise for you and Sun, I’ll show them to you first Moon… huge condition, if you don’t behave I’ll stick this flashlight so far up your ass-“

“Language~” he purred at you.

“Save it, I’ve heard you curse that five times yesterday an all in the span of five minutes I might add! Now listen, I mean it Moon….please be at least decent to them…I made them specifically for you and Sun.” Your voice became softer….you watched Moons expression go from impish….to mild surprise.

“For…Sunny and I?” He asked.

“Yeah…I know you hate it but…remember a month back involving that mom who neglected to tell you guys about her daughters allergies?”

An as expected, Moon’s face turned from surprise…to down right disgust. You watched those sharp teeth start gnashing and pretending to chew on something despite having nothing in his mouth. The incident in question was an attempt to try and sue the Pizzaplex, the mother purposely neglected to tell Sun about her daughters peanut allergies. So when the daughter had a bad allergic reaction the blame was placed on Sun and the Pizzaplex.

But unfortunately for the mom, her daughter turned out to be a huge fan of Sun and exposed her mother’s plan when her mom threatened to have they Daycare permanently shut down. The mom was arrested for child endangerment and divorced, the little girl wasn’t banned cause…well she can’t control her mom’s actions. Needless to say it left a toll on Sun, he was so panicked and slightly traumatized by the event….

“Yes….I remember…” he growled.

“Well I made you guys something to help prevent another incident like that and also help take some of the burden of watching so many kids off your back.”

You turned and walked over to the tube, your ‘surprise’ was still in there…smiling you turned to Moon and motioned him to turn around.

He gave you a very unamused look..you repeated the motion and this time he complied. You turned back to your ‘surprise’ and motioned them to come out. They did…all be it slowly, apparently intimidated by just the sound of Moon’s voice. Geez you were hoping this would go well cause if not…well you tried not to think about it.

You made your ‘surprise’ stand in front of you, you held back a chuckle as they covered their face with their sleeves.

“Ok Moon, here ‘she’ is.”

You watched Moon turn, obviously confused by the little figure. Though you felt some panic when he knelt down and pulled on the sleeves…..but that panic disappeared when you saw his face when he got a look at the ‘surprise’s’ face.

You smirked. “Moon, this is Clover. Your new baby sister, Clover this is Moon. He and Sundrop are going to be your big brothers, don’t be shy now say hello!”

Ooh the look on Moon’s face was just priceless! The look of shock and confusion made whatever prank he planned for you later worth it, though you still were worried about how he’d react to Clover. If anything he’d just ignore her, Sun you knew would welcome her with open arms. You gently backed up to give Clover room to move…she shuffled in one spot…a bit bashful on first meeting.

“H-Hi….I’m Clover…you-your new assistant, I’m designed to help kids with medical an emotional health. I’m programmed with stories to help with both story time and helping other children who are reluctant to nap.”

Well she was more confident in speaking to him….Moon was just staring at her, you watched her shuffle more and fidget with her fingers..an before long…

You watched Moon pick her up into his arms…look directly at you…

“She’s mine…an we are leaving.” An with that he turned and walked away back towards the play-structure.

“Whoa Moon wait-“

Too late, he had disappeared along with Clover…and you were being called to help with a parent acting like a fucking dick-bag….

[two hours later]

“Shit, shit, shit, shit!”

You got a call to return to the Daycare, something happened you knew it! Oh you should’ve waited, waited or at least fucking TOLD THEM! You ran up to see another worker, just giggling her head off, you slowed down and overheard her muttering.

“Oh my god, that is so freaking cute!”

Confused…you walked over and looked through the glass surrounding the Daycare…only to see Sun chasing Clover in a game of tag. You wondered for a moment if the lights came on after you left…maybe Moon didn’t scare her too badly..?

“Oh Y/N there you are, man you missed some cute stuff!”

You stared at your co-worker…unaware of what their name was you asked what had happened.

[Flashback after Y/N left]

“Well isn’t this a pleasant surprise hmm~?” Moon gave a sinister chuckle, he looked over Clover another time.

She was such a cute little skrundly, yes she was. Big green eyes, shy personality…of course Moon would fix that, he’d turn her into a sassy little spitfire soon. Although Sun was already begging to have the lights on so he could meet their new ‘sister’ but since the lights were on a timer…Moon would make the most of his time.

“As you know, I’m Moon and I am your big brother. So you know, I share a body with Sun. When the lights come on we switch places…he takes over when the lights are on and I take over when the lights are out. Got that?” Moon asked, gently poking the button nose on his new sister.

This…earned him a giggle…gosh even her giggles were adorable. What on earth did that human create?! Seriously, they made a walking doll…wrapped up in a jesters costume.

Moon had to give credit where credit was due….now on to the fun part, since Sun would go crazy if he tried teaching her ‘bad’ words right away he figured he’d do something else. Setting her down for a moment he sat down to ponder…already contorting his body in his ‘pondering’ pose. He sat like that for a moment…when he noticed Clover attempting to copy him.

“Hm?” He looked over at her, she was pretty flexible he could tell…but she just couldn’t seem to figure out where to put her parts.

Moon gave a chuckle. “Here now little dewdrop, follow my lead”

Dewdrop…that was a cute little nickname for her, he wondered if that would be the name of her own candy. Would she get that treatment though? He threw the thought out an focused, he started out with simple things like splits and seeing if she could touch her toes. Then came more challenging ones, scorpion poses, folding poses…she copied them perfectly. Moon decided to be bold and see how she faired using the wires, he attached himself to his own and sprang up…but looked down and saw she wasn’t following..but staring with wide eyed amazement.

“You can fly?!” Clover gasped, Moon chuckled and lowered himself.

“In a way, its a harness. I’m sure you’ve got one built in too…don’t you?”

Clover reached and felt the latch on her back, nodding but then pointed out something Moon had missed.

“I do, but there’s only one cable in the Daycare and that belongs to you…and Sun I think..”

Thats right, there was only one cable…well no matter. Moon knew how to improvise, he lowered himself before detaching himself from the cable. He motioned Clover to turn around, she complied. When he was sure she was attached safely he rose the cable up enough so the two were at eye level with each other.

“Alright thats good enough.”

An so began his lessons on using the cable, of course she got tangled but only a few times. She was lasting a lot longer then Sun could…speaking of which he was trying his best to keep Sun calm as well. He was going absolutely nuts over their new ‘sibling’ an was being rather loud…well loud for ‘him’ at least.

He was watching her try and do a twirl…when she paused to look at him.

“Um…Moon?” Her voice was as soft as a pillow.

“Yes?”

“….You and Sun…share a body..right?”

“Yes, we do.”

Slowly Clover lowered herself back to the floor, it didn’t take a genius to see something was bugging her.

“Is..does he see…what you see? Is he aware of what happens when you take over?”

Huh, well he was going to expect a question like that from her someday just not now…he knelt down and gently patted her head.

“Yes, he see’s what I see and is always aware of what I’m doing. Why do you ask?”

He watched her eyes dart from side to side, trying not to make contact with his…before working up the courage to look right at him.

“Does…he like me? I mean…can you ask him if…he’s ok with me being here?”

Well….that caught him off guard, Moon was expecting questions on Sun’s personality or mannerism but..already assuming she was being a burden or a problem. Sun was screaming at the back of their mind how she could assume such a thing..but Moon quickly told Sun to calm down mentally and focused on Clover.

“He’s excited to meet you personally, why on earth would you think he’d not like you?”

“…I…sorta overheard some workers talking…saying how mad you or Sun would be if I showed up..”

“Well my dear, those workers can pound sand…with their heads for all I care. Sunny and I are very happy to have you here, it’ll be nice to have more company. That an the children here will just adore you, after-all…I just met you an already I like you…a lot.” Moon patted her head before standing up, he had to time this right.

“In fact…how ‘we’ show you ourselves?”

Clover blinked, suddenly the lights came back on. Startled for a moment she turned to Moon-….only to find he was gone…and instead, Sun standing there with a big grin on his face.

“Hoo! Hoo! Hoo! Clover! We finally get to meet face to face!” Sun waisted no time in scooping up the smaller animatronic into his arms in a tight hug.

“Oh Clover, I heard what you said and no, I absolutely adore you! You are just the cutest little sweetie I’ve ever seen! Moony and I would just love having a little sister like you around the Daycare, you’re absolutely perfect!”

Sun couldn’t contain himself, he spun around with his new sister in his arms. Pausing a moment to let her rest, the spinning making her dizzy….or at least thats what she wanted Sun to think. The moment he sat her down though she poked his ‘nose’ and gave a little wink.

“Boop, your it!” Clover giggled and bolted.

Sun sat there confused…before realizing what she had just done and what challenge she initiated.

“You sneaky little girl! I’ll have you know I’m one of the best at tag!”

An with that….the game was on, Clover felt at home, she felt this is where she was meant to be…

She was going to like it here.

End.

Oh and here’s a pic of Clover for those who wanna know what she looks like, Credit for this art goes to @rainy-nomad

https://rainy-nomad.tumblr.com/post/674425406031577088/happy-belated-birthday-birthday-buddy-for-the

[labyrinthsofyou]

the sun, the moon and you

pairing: wong yukhei & female reader

genre: fluff

warnings: suggestive mentions & innuendos

words: 27, 576                            

summary: all yukhei wants to do is to make you happy.

+

happiness.

if someone is to ask wong yukhei what he wishes to bring everyday, happiness would be his answer. 

it can be from seeing him. it can be from talking to him. it can be from listening to the songs he performs on stage. he wants to be able to spread smiles on faces. he hopes to brighten days and outline dreams. 

and tonight, thousands yukhei has made happy. the screams as he had moved on stage told him so. the cheers once he had taken his bow makes him so sure of it. the happiness he wishes to bring everyday has been done. 

except it is not.

there is one person, someone, yukhei hopes to make the happiest before the day ends.

you.

so that is why yukhei currently sits in the backseat of the van with his very exhausted body leaning back into his seat. the heavy promotions mixed with daily practices for different groups have been rewarding yet tiring. and after the performance tonight, yukhei wants to crawl into his bed. he needs to sleep because tomorrow there will be an all day photoshoot. a yawn he lets out as he stares out the window. the traffic isn’t so bad at this time of the night. but another forty minutes this ride is going to be. yukhei taps on his phone he is clutching, checking for a message. 

there is none though. there hasn’t been one since before his performance when you had sent him a message of luck and hearts and he had responded with his excitement for the video call later tonight.

that had been over two hours ago.

yukhei purses his lips. he debates for a moment and unlocks his screen. he taps on the green icon and types out a quick little message that the performance is over, that he should be back at the dorms in a little while. half a dozen happy faces and a heart he attaches at the end. he opens his bag on his lap and takes out his headphones to put on. his head turns to glance at the balloons peeking out from the back of the van before he’s looking out the window again. 

he should sleep really now, even if it is for a little while. but yukhei won’t, can’t because excited jitteriness he feels. so he plays his music and watches the scenery of the highway and the glowing city lights that goes by.

and when forty minutes passes, yukhei sees the upcoming exit. he sits up a little as the driver turns on the signal. the clicking sound overlaps the music quietly playing from his headphones. the lane they cross and soon enough the van is exiting the highway. he can’t stop the calm and giddiness flooding in him. despite the cool temperatures, the streets are filled with people strolling and playing on a friday night. there is a tug in his chest and yukhei lets out a quiet breath. when his schedules ease up a little it will be you and him like everyone else in the streets.

until then, it will be like this.   

the familiar setting of the cafés and stores he and you go to he passes. three right turns and two left turns the driver makes. then through the neighborhood yukhei knows so well now, the bakery you love he sees. he puts his headphones away and notes the time on his phone. about an hour he still has before the bakery closes. the driver pulls up to the front. 

his first destination of the night. 

yukhei unbuckles his seatbelt and tells the driver he should be quick. he exits the car and jogs up to the door. a handful of customers yukhei spots sitting at the quaint tables and cozy benches once he walks in. he stands behind a couple, awaiting his turn. his head he keeps lowered while he looks at his phone. 

a response to his message he has not received and yukhei chews on the inside of his cheeks because it’s unlike you. he lets out a slow exhale and hesitates. he frowns slightly to himself and types out another message to you, hoping everything is okay and to give him a call when you can. 

“excuse me?”

yukhei looks up at the voice, realizing then the worker calling for him. he faintly smiles and bows his head in apology while approaching the counter. the worker grins at him and he wonders if and hopes the dim lighting inside makes him unrecognizable at the moment. “good evening, what can i get for you?” 

he clears his throat. “hi, i’m here to pick up an order.” yukhei looks down at his phone to pull up the information he needs. he shows her the order number and she nods, asking him to wait before she disappears behind the swinging doors. he slips his phone into his bag. his eyes scan over the delicious cakes in the glass display. there are ones with chocolate. there are ones with fruit. some are simple. others a bit more fancy. there's a mocha cake shaped like a large cup and a matcha one dusted with the rich powder. all of them look like perfection and with your sweet tooth, he is certain you would love them all.

yukhei glances up when he hears the sound of the doors. the girl walks back to the counter and the cake she holds is exactly like what he had seen in the pictures on the website. the cream on the sides are smooth. the fruits on the top on glossy. the chocolate curls and macaroons are neatly placed. and the chocolate disc is perfectly round with the fancy script. he smiles and out of habit when he is happy, yukhei claps his hands softly too before nodding his head in approval. 

she smiles and turns around. the cake is boxed up. a red ribbon is tied to the handles of the box. the candles and plastic cake server in a clear cellophane bag is taped to the side of it. she places the wrapped up cake in front of him. 

“is there anything else?” she asks with a grin. 

a hot chrysanthemum tea he orders and swipes his credit card for it. and once the cake and tea are in his hands, yukhei thanks the worker and wishes her a good night. 

he balances the items in one hand to open the van door. yukhei leans in, placing the box on the empty seat next to his and climbs in. once the door closes, he passes the hot tea to the driver with a tiny beam and words of appreciation for driving him out here tonight. a smile in return yukhei receives and the driver takes the tea from his hands in equal appreciation. his seatbelt he puts back on and yukhei brings up the boxed cake, holding it in his hands as the driver starts the van again.

the ride now will be much shorter. just a few minutes more. yukhei turns his head, continuing to soak up the surroundings he has missed. the busy friday night grows a little quieter down the streets lined with homes and apartments. his heart thumps loudly and he thinks he can count the beats of it. 

yukhei hopes this will work. he hopes you will be happy. he hopes everything is okay because still he gets no response from you. 

soon enough the building yukhei has considered his home for the last six months comes into view. 

destination number two.

the van stops and the door yukhei opens. he steps out, careful to not tilt the cake he holds. the driver follows too and walks to the back of the van. yukhei checks to make sure he hasn’t dropped anything. he fixes the strap of his bag across his chest and he twists around, ready to get the balloons. but the driver comes to him with them already in his grasp. yukhei grins, taking ahold of the plastic heart shaped weight tied to the ends of the shiny ribbons. he bows and whispers more words of gratitude and a bid good night. 

then he takes a deep breath and begins to move to the front door. he chuckles when the security guard hurriedly runs over to help him pull open the heavy glass door. it takes a moment, a double take and surprised look before the older man realizes it’s him. one of the tallest and most handsome resident he had commented once to him. yukhei smiles with the last balloon safe through the doorway before he thanks him too for the help.

he makes his way through the empty lobby and towards the elevator. he presses on the up arrow. there's an immediate chime and the doors open. he walks in, making sure all twelve balloons comes with him before the doors close. the ninth floor yukhei presses for. he watches the numbers on the tiny screen increase and just a few seconds it takes. then there’s another chime that sounds and the doors open for him to step out.

it’s quiet in the hallway as yukhei walks. he hears faint sounds of loud laughter. there’s a scent of something delicious from one of the apartments.

his feet soon stop and yukhei stands in front of the door that looks like everyone else’s. but the number on it, what’s behind it, makes him smile and his heart pound like no other door. the balloons and the cake he holds in one hand. he reaches into his bag and pulls out his phone again. 

still no response. 

yukhei pauses his movements and thinks on whether to call you right now. he wants to surprise you and not scare you. so he decides on the latter, hoping to tell you to come open the door. that will work much better. he swipes and taps on his screen. the ringing of his call echoes in the quietness of the hallway. 

perhaps you are in the shower or deep into one of your dramas or maybe you’re finishing the work you have because you don’t pick up. still, yukhei hangs up a little concern and curious. you hadn’t mentioned about going out either. you would’ve he is sure because the video call tonight no matter what had been agreed on. his phone yukhei slips back into the bag and then the familiar code he remembers like the back of his hand he punches in. the beep sounds and the door handle yukhei pushes down.

one step in. then another. 

yukhei is home.

after four weeks, even if it will be just for tonight, it feels good.

and yukhei is sure you are home too upon standing in the entryway. the lights are on. your pair of fuzzy pink slippers are not in the place you always put them in. yukhei thinks he hears familiar voices talking once he shuts the door behind him. any second he really expects you to appear or scream. something, anything, but he gets nothing. the shower yukhei doesn’t hear. the cake and the balloons he gently sets down on the floor. his sneakers he carefully and quietly kicks off. his feet are soon slipped into his pair of fuzzy grey slippers.

“babe?” his voice sounds loud into the space.

yukhei waits momentarily for a response but still he gets nothing.

there’s a skip to his heart. his concern and curiosity are heightened. the cake and balloons he leaves behind in search for you. his steps are big and quicker than usual down the hall. and when yukhei thinks about calling out your name, his feet halt once he reaches the living room. 

he gets his answer for the quietness. he now knows why of the unanswered messages and phone call because asleep he finds you on the couch. the sudden release of a breath stuck in his throat is released. the concern that something had happened to you dissipates. yukhei turns his head to the open television. the breathless chuckle rises up in him because the voices he had heard upon entering are familiar. instead of the dramas you love playing, it’s the anime about the quiet, awkward and protective wolf learning and growing in the world. 

one of his favorites and one yukhei had gotten you into.

you had sat next to him during his viewing marathon one night. he had been so quiet, his attention solely on the television and your curiosity had piqued. “what are you watching?” you had murmured. 

for two episodes then, yukhei had answered your intriguing questions. you had listened to his explanations about the characters, the desires and the dilemmas. 

your lips had pursed. “what episode are we watching again?”

yukhei had chuckled. “nine. why?” a hesitant and slow nod you had responded with. your eyes had shifted between the ending credits and him.

“oh.” the hint of disappointment yukhei had sworn he heard. it had taken a minute for him to understand your reaction. 

you had been hooked. 

he had patted your thigh gingerly to get your attention. “i’ll wait for you to catch up,” yukhei had told you with deep laughter. 

your face had lit up. a wet kiss had been pressed onto his cheek and yukhei had waited, even rewatching the previous episodes with you. the first season you had finished side by side and a pinky promise had been made to watch season two together after the end of his promotions. 

and now, yukhei watches the scene in the cafeteria between the wolf and rabbit unfold. he chuckles to himself at the playfulness of the moment and of the internal dilemmas and difficult decisions happening on screen and in real life. the rabbit fights her instincts to run away from the carnivore. the wolf wonders what has been happening to him in the last few days. yukhei contemplates on how to wake and surprise you without scaring you. 

he turns to look at you and his eyes take in the sight of your curled form underneath the thin throw blanket. one hand is tucked underneath your cheek while the other clutches gently to the pillow beneath your head. in slow movements, he closes the short distance to you in small careful steps. the remote he picks up. the episode he stops and the television he switches off. you make no motions of waking even as he places the remote back down. the mug sitting on the coffee table he peeks into. his brows furrow the slightest at the discovery of the jasmine tea. 

your choice of beverage when you are feeling under the weather.

slowly yukhei kneels beside you. your deep steady breaths he hears. he feels the tugs at his heart because in seconds he will be pulling you out from your slumber and dreams. his hand rises to gently settle on the outline of your legs beneath the blanket. 

“babe...” his voice is barely above a whisper. then little by little, with his other hand holding onto the armrest above your head, yukhei leans down and erases the space between his mouth and your skin. he brushes his pillowy lips on your very warm cheek. your name softly rolls pass his mouth and he hears the faintest whimper coming from you. then one, two and even a third kiss is placed consecutively onto your cheek before he speaks again. “wake up, baby.”

yukhei watches with a faint grin forming on his face as you stir. you let out another tiny whimper and instantly his hand moves to your head, his thumb brushing gently on your temple. his other hand slips behind and rubs at your back and he whispers your name twice more. it takes a moment and soon enough you’re moving a bit more. yukhei leans back enough to see your eyes bit by bit open to the light. you rub softly at them to rid of the sleep and the slight blur. the haziness of your brain you’re trying to clear. but then you register the familiar quiet giggles surrounding you. yukhei stares as your eyes widen expectedly because he’s not supposed to be here.

“surprise!” he quietly and cutely exclaims, both his hands rising up like an excited child.

your heart jumps and immediately the tiny shriek comes from you. your hands quickly move to cover up your face. the pounding in your chest is strong and those quiet giggles you heard from him seconds ago turn into deep laughter. 

“am i hallucinating right now?”

the question yukhei hears so clearly despite it being muffled by the sleeves of his sweatshirt you wear. it only makes him laugh louder. how you have missed hearing that beautiful sound in front of you instead of through a phone and video. you feel the continued fast beats in your chest.

regardless if your face is still shielded, yukhei nods. “even if you are hallucinating, i imagine myself to be quite the dream to appear before you,” he murmurs playfully. yukhei leans down and settles his mouth next to your ear. his breath tickles you. he feels the pulls of his heart. “baby, i’m right here. just look.”

your breath catches in your throat. your chest tightens. you remove your hands and is truly met with the sight of him in the flesh. yukhei smiles so brightly and blindingly. 

he really is here. 

and you think maybe it might be the tiredness. maybe it’s because you have been missing him too much. or perhaps it’s just the combination of both because the soft sobs rises up in you. the warm tears glide down your skin within the next shaky breath you take. yukhei chuckles affectionately through soft shushes and hugs you close to him even if he is still on the floor and you remain curled on the couch. your hands rise again, hiding your face from him. he feels the haziness building in his own eyes and buries his face into your hair. 

“shhh… it’s okay,” he coos softly.

yukhei takes a deep breath and the familiar scent of vanilla he has missed filters up his nose. his hand moves to your back. he rubs it soothingly to calm the light shake of your body. then it takes a minute and more for your tears to stop and your heart to calm. you shift away from him and push yourself up to sit. yukhei moves back just a few inches to allow you to do. his hands go on either side of your sitting position and he watches with a small curve of his mouth while you wipe at your eyes with the sleeve of the sweatshirt. there’s still the glassiness in your gaze and he can still see the faintest stains on your cheeks once you finally look at him. you take a deep breath and softly smile at him. then the curve on his face slowly mirrors yours because yukhei is certain that he has surprised and scared you in the best possible way. your hands stretch forward to gently cup his face and the unexpected tiny whimper slips from you.

as much as you have missed hearing his laugh in the flesh, you have missed simply touching him even more. 

“what are you doing here?” your voice cracks a bit from the waking up and crying but you don’t care.

his hands move to grasp at your hips over the blanket. yukhei shifts forward until he’s able to press his forehead against yours. 

“happy birthday, baby,” he whispers, beaming. “third time’s a charm.”

you feel tears threatening to fall all over again and your heart skips because even after the few years together, your birthday is one event that has been difficult.

the first year together had been just a few months after you had started dating. a schedule yukhei had been on and he had forgotten until the following afternoon. shame and embarrassment had filled him when he had realized. yukhei had apologized profusely while he had clung to you, hugging you tight and wondering just how bad he had messed up. soft chuckles had rolled pass your grinning lips because it had been alright. you hadn’t been, couldn’t be upset. not when he had been so genuinely regretful and upset. so instead you had puckered short sweet pecks onto his pouting mouth when yukhei finally removed his face from the crook of your neck.

“i’m really sorry,” he had apologized again. “i’ll make it up to you.”

yukhei had stared at you scrunching up your nose and giggling lightly. your fingertips had brushed back his falling hair over his wide eyes. 

“yeah? you sure about that?” you had playfully narrowed your gaze at him. the tone of your voice had been teasing. yukhei had felt the slight heaviness lifted off his shoulder as he nodded swiftly and left a kiss on the tip of your nose. 

“just name it,” he had responded back, biting back a grin as you dramatically delved into deep thought.

it hadn’t taken you long to figure out what you wanted. the request had been simple. three kisses and strawberry ice cream, your gaze had sparkled with your words. yukhei had laughed loudly because he could definitely do that.

but he had given you a little more than you had asked for. the three kisses had turned into a hour make out session on your couch. and afterwards then, a trip to the convenience store you and him had taken to with fingers intertwined. yukhei had picked up the pint of strawberry ice cream and a pack of colorful striped birthday candles. insistent he had been for it.

the heat you had felt on your cheeks. “i don’t remember requesting candles,” your words had been playful. 

a tender kiss yukhei had placed on you temple to hide his boyish shy grin. “just a minor adjustment. besides, you have to make a wish for your birthday, babe.”

the items he had paid for. the walk back to your apartment in the cool autumn evening had been picturesque. and once back in your home, the ice cream had soften just enough for him to stick a lone pink candle into the center of the sweet treat. then yukhei had hugged you from behind, his chest pressing against your back as he sung you your birthday song with a happy grin and his sweet giggles. you had clapped once he was done and an adoring kiss he had pressed onto your cheek before his lips had moved to your ear. 

“close your eyes and make your wish.”

you had turned to look at him, finding him staring at you intently with a beam. your hands had reached for his arms hugging you and you had returned to the candle burning away. you had closed your eyes and within seconds, made a wish for health, of happiness and more moments with him. the tiny flame had been blown out. the ice cream had been eaten straight from the pint while he had vowed with a bashful smile and three sweet kisses to remember your birthday for the next year.

and yukhei had.

an event on his phone he had set. but then another country he had to be in for filming. regret again had filled him because how he wished to be with you for your day.

“we will do something when i get back, okay?” through the video call yukhei had pinky promised you. “but until then, i hope this is okay,” he had told you with a laugh because what he meant was the long distance virtual dinner. 

his phone had been propped up with what he could find in his hotel room. you had used a stack of books for yours. and the choice of cuisine had been up to you and he would try to see if there was a delivery possible to the hotel or if room service had it on the menu.

“what are you craving tonight?” yukhei had questioned, adjusting his glasses and running his long fingers through his slightly damp hair from his shower.

your chin had rested against the heel of your hand as you stared at him through the phone screen. all you had truly wanted was to snuggle up against him and feel the softness of his skin and lips. but it had been impossible for the moment. so with a teasing smile and moving your legs to hug to your chest, you had given him your answer. 

“sushi,” your gaze had twinkled. “all i want is sushi.”

it had taken yukhei a moment to register the double meaning, the corny pun he used to tell you. the embarrassed snort had escaped from him. your giggles had followed out. once yukhei had stopped laughing, he remained smiling wide and arched a sculpted brow. “that’s all?”

your head had tilted. you had hummed quietly. “that’s all.” your whispered answer had just been loud enough for him to hear.

his heart had ached and swelled all at once.

then with different time zones and eating cuisine from a country neither of you had currently been in, it had been a memorable birthday dinner. your phones had fallen from their positions throughout the meal with sudden gasps and laughter. you and him had played pretend, trying one another’s orders through the screen. hundreds of miles had separated you and him. yet the appreciation and love you had for him multiplied.

“you think we can do this again?” you had remarked once the plates and containers were cleared of all the delicious food ordered. 

yukhei had grinned, feeling relief for the happy look on your face before he nodded. “is your craving satisfied yet?” there had been a hint of playfulness in his voice. it had taken you hardly a second before your head shook and you sighed dramatically. even through a video, yukhei had noticed the mischief shining in your eyes.

“not yet, babe.”

and the meaning of your response and your words had stuck with him. so when yukhei returned three weeks later, he had hoped to fix that with surprises up his sleeve. 

the first one had been a selfie stick tripod. he had tugged it out of the shopping bag and you had let out an amused laugh.

“i bought one for myself too,” you had turned away from the present in your grasp to look at him. the bashful grin had formed at once on his face. “for future long distance virtual dinners so the phones don’t drop again,” he had whispered with a cute wrinkle to his nose.

the warmth had spread in your cheeks. your arm had slithered around his middle, hugging him tight and pecking him sweetly on his lips. “can’t wait.”

and the second had been the recreation of the birthday dinner weeks prior. 

not many opportunities yukhei had to take you out like how he believed you deserved. so he had done a little research for a restaurant with the best sushi and made a reservation. the various rolls and sliced fish ordered had been served alongside steaming bowls of udon. there had even been a delicious mini cheesecake for dessert with a lone lit candle yukhei had secretly requested because a birthday wish was still necessary he believed. so you had wished for the same from the previous birthday because the past year had been everything and more you could had imagined it to be. 

and stomachs had been as full as hearts when you and him had returned back to your apartment. yukhei had pulled you down to lay with him on the couch. his hug had been warm. his kisses had been ardent.  

yukhei had stared at you as if he was a little it drunk. you had chuckled breathlessly because he hadn’t had a drop of alcohol. the corners of his mouth had twitched faintly up when you had brush back his hair.

“thank you for tonight. i love the tripod, i loved the dinner and i love you,” you had informed him. a gentle kiss you had bestowed on his nose. but then yukhei had puckered his lips, wanting one there instead. his wish you had granted with a soft beam. your fingertip had outlined the curve of his smile once you pull back. 

“i’m glad you enjoyed it.” your touch had stopped on the center of his mouth. yukhei had pressed a kiss to the tip of your fingertip with his wide eyes gleaming. “so… has your sushi craving been satisfied yet?” he questioned teasingly. his large hands had gradually slipped beneath the pastel pink ruffled blouse you wore. 

immediately you had giggled, recalling his question from that first birthday dinner. you had closed the space between your grinning mouths. one then another nip you had given his pillowy lips. his touch had traveled further up. you had mewled, the sound so tantalizing, and shook your head. 

“almost.”

then his low groan had echoed your warm laughter and lips had happily connected once more into the very long night.

and this year, yukhei had a packed schedule. 

it had been back to back albums and promotions for different groups. when he had been given the tentative timeline for the second half of the year, it hadn’t crossed his mind. all yukhei felt had been excitement to be working with people he loved and grateful for continuing opportunities to learn from others. but when the official dates were given, the performances at shows and the events lined up, yukhei had doubled checked his calendar.

the images of a birthday cake and a pink heart had stared back at him.

yukhei had shook his head and quietly laughed in disbelief to himself. he had ran a hand over his face. he had wondered then if the world was playing a trick on him. annoyed he had been and upset he had certain you would be too because seriously it couldn’t be possible again. 

and in the kitchen yukhei had found you when he returned home. too hot from the summer heat and too stressed from the impending interview for a new job, all you had wanted was to eat something delicious. your phone had been in your hand. your fingers had slowly slide across the screen as you debated the menu for the night. a kiss yukhei had pressed onto your smiling mouth when he hugged you, the indescribable happiness you and him felt every time he walked through the front door.

“hmm, what do you want for dinner? are you hungry?”

yukhei had thought about how to tell you. whether he should wait until after dinner or tell you immediately, he had finally decided on the latter. yukhei had taken a deep breath and quietly and regretfully informed you with a frown of the current predicament plaguing his mind.

then yukhei had waited for your disappointing sigh, for you to push away his arms that were holding you close and for you to say to him again. yet you had simply stared him for a few seconds before smiling fondly. your phone you had closed and his embrace you walked out of. yukhei had watched after you as you made the two steps to the counter and pushed yourself up to sit on it. your gaze had found his and your arms had stretched out for him. yukhei hadn’t hesitated, going to you with a frown on his face and a sigh. your legs had wrapped around his waist with your ankles crossing behind his back to push him closer. his hands had settled on your knees, grasping it gently. your arms had circled around his neck and he had leaned into you to place a tender kiss on the faint curve of your lips.

yukhei had sighed once more. “i’m very sorry about this... again. if i could change it, i would.”

so proud of him you had been for everything he was doing and the opportunities he had been given. you had never wanted anything less for him. the twinge of pain had clutched at your heart with how he had felt. 

your head you had shaken before tilting it a bit. “i’m not upset at you. you have to know that, babe.” 

because since the beginning you had understood and accepted his schedules. even if it had meant missing him too much sometimes. even if it had meant having miles, cities and countries separating you and him every now and then.

it had been okay.

in your life you had him. and always he had came back to you with love unwavering. 

“this is your job, your career. you’re not at fault for this. i know you want to celebrate it but it’s okay. you have nothing to feel guilty about.” the space between your mouths you had closed. one then two loving kiss you had given him. yukhei had hummed, his hands sliding up to grip at your thighs. “birthdays happen every year. if not this year, then next year. if not next year, the year after that. we have more birthdays to come.” 

yukhei had hugged you close, burying his face into your neck. you had giggled when a ticklish pucker of his soft lips grazed your skin. you had turned your head with your mouth resting next to his ear. “and you’re stuck with me, remember?” yukhei had laughed, face warming and heart happy. yes, he had remembered what you said to him when you had asked him to move in. 

he had lifted his head away to look at you, a grin slowly appearing on his face

“besides, we can celebrate before or after. it’s the memory that truly counts. and as long as you’re with me, babe, i don’t have any complaints,” you had reassured him. 

the smile on his face had broaden, making you more in love with him than you already were. yukhei had pressed a warm kiss on your lips. you had hummed in content and gently bopped him on the tip of his nose with your fingertip. 

yukhei had chuckled, feeling a little better. “then i will promise to give you a memory that truly counts, baby.” 

and seeing him now in front you, this memory counts. 

this memory is unforgettable.

“you surprised me for my birthday,” yukhei laughs at the quiet whine that slips from your mouth. 

his birthday this year you recall so clearly. the surprise at the gym that had made him grin despite the layer of sweat and his tiredness from his practice and workout. the birthday cake covered with the airy whipped cream and topped with the juicy strawberries that you had held up for him. the birthday wish he had to make before midnight struck. the sweet memory of him happily licking the cream off your supple chest because he had told you somewhere in the world it was still his birthday.

you feel the smile form on your face. your cheeks burn quickly. the sparkle in his eyes rival the sparkle of gold glitter that has been brushed underneath his handsome and neat eyebrows. “so i thought it’ll be only fair to surprise you on yours. are you happy, baby?” yukhei questions. 

he's teasing and you know it. the sight of his face turns a bit blurry again. heartstrings are pulled at. you nod with a warm chuckle, thumbs caressing the apples of his cheeks. 

“yeah, i’m happy,” you whisper. the distance between your mouths are erased and you capture his lips for a little sugary kiss. 

yukhei pulls back reluctantly and licks his lips. “i messaged you and even called before i came in, but you didn’t respond to any of them.” 

your brows furrow. “you did?” you turn your head, eyes searching for your phone you are certain you had with you. the blanket you wiggle and lift before your phone falls out from the folds. you unlock it and see the missed messages and the recent call. you check the tiny tab on the side. silent you had the device on. your eyes return to his while dropping the phone down next to you. “i didn’t realize the ringer was off. i'm sorry,” you murmur your apology, running a hand over your face. “i really didn’t plan on falling asleep here.”   

yukhei chuckles lowly with a nod. “it's okay. you just made me a little worried. i was afraid of scaring you so that was why i called. when i opened the door i was so sure you were going to scream or attack me,” he quietly jokes, watching you slowly and shyly grin. his eyes soften. “but i saw the tea. you’re not feeling well?” the concern is evident in his gaze and his voice. the guilt forms in his heart because yukhei wonders if he had missed the signs in the messages, the phone calls and the video chats. 

you shake your head though. “just been feeling tired. i think it’s just the changing seasons and adjusting to the weather.” the transition from summer to autumn has been going back and forth. the start of the new season it is, but early september it felt like yesterday and the middle of november it feels like today. “and work has been… hectic. there’s been a lot to do and not enough time. i’ve just been sleeping less than usual.” you respond with your eyes dropping from him momentarily. 

a good night’s sleep you have missed recently with the new job you started weeks ago. it had been an early birthday present from the world you had declared. all the exams, the long papers and the years put into school had paid off. and it has been nothing and everything you expected. exciting and rewarding yet completely nerve wracking because constantly you were on your toes. 

you don’t want to mess up. you don’t want doubts of whether you had been the best choice. 

and after this week of too many meetings and too much paperwork and files, the comfy couch had felt like a fluffy cloud after your shower and dinner of a big bowl of spicy tofu soup with rice. you had wondered whether to work a bit to leave the weekend more free. but the remote you had reached for and the television had been turned on for a little noise in the quiet apartment. you had responded to sweet texts of birthday wishes. a message wishing him luck with hearts you had sent for his performance and a decision you had made to rewatch the anime that he had gotten you into. just for an episode or two then a little work before the promised video call you had told yourself.      

you really had no intentions of falling asleep. 

the small nudge from yukhei has you looking back up within seconds. you don’t want him worrying even when his expression tells you he is worried because you haven’t mentioned the lack of sleep to him. a tiny reassuring smile comes out. your arms wrap around his neck again. you want to ease his worry and the guilt you are certain he feels because regardless of his busy schedules and his own lack of sleep, yukhei thinks he should be able to pick up clues. he should be making sure you are alright.  

your fingertips gently stroke the nape of his neck. “i’m fine, babe. please don't worry, okay?”

yukhei playfully scrunches up his nose. “as long as the day ends in ‘y,’ i will always worry about you,” he whispers to you with a faint grin. 

you can’t control the smile ghosting your face. 

lucky and loved. 

you lean forward to place a kiss to his mouth. yukhei clings onto your lips for seconds longer before letting you pull back. he sighs, a little unconvinced because he stares intently at you. “you’re sure that is all?” 

“cross my heart, that’s all. and if i'm really not feeling good, i’ll give you a call. you can come home and play doctor to get me back to health,” you quietly jest, hoping to make him feel better. 

yukhei chuckles lowly then, his eyes taking the sight of you. “just promise to take care of yourself. take a break and get your sleep, hmm?” he finally whispers.

you feel the tugs in your chest. “i promise with all my heart.” you lean in for two more short and sweet kisses that he gladly accepts. the corners of your lips twitch up once you part. your fingers shift to his neck, stroking it tenderly. “how did you manage to get back here?” you ask intrigued. 

in the middle of the first round of promotions he is currently for one group while starting the preparations of videos and photoshoots and everything else for another group. you don’t want him getting in trouble or upsetting anyone because even if tomorrow is saturday and the day of play considered to the world, he has work. the performance tonight and his hectic schedule lined up had been why he couldn’t be here tonight. you feel the clutch to your heart. he should be sleeping, getting the rest you are certain he is not getting enough off either. 

yukhei smiles so easily. “we left immediately after our set.” you study the light shade of brown eyeshadow over his eyelids. his hair is still styled up, each strand still seems to be in place despite his performance. your eyes go over his head to glance at the time hanging on the wall. it’s just before ten in the night. you turn back to look at him and he’s still smiling. “manger got someone to drive me here. he had given me the okay to come back. he said it should be fine as long as i followed two things.” 

a brow of your rises and your fingers stop moving. yukhei clears his throat dramatically as he raises his hand and holds up one finger. 

“first, i better not be late when he comes to pick me up himself tomorrow morning.” you chuckle, imagining his manager who takes care of them, loves them and who yukhei is a full head taller, threatening him. a second finger of his rises. “and number two is to tell you happy birthday. he says he hopes you like your surprise.” yukhei giggles sweetly, warmth covering his cheeks. “he says i’m so whipped for you.”

his words causes the laughter to rise out of you in an instant. 

he will lose a few hours sleep for this. anything he will give to see you happy. everything he will do to make you happy like this.

the teasing mischief yukhei notes in your eyes. “and what are your thoughts about that then? is he wrong?” you inquire curiously.

yukhei tugs you closer, bumping noses together and grazing his plump lips against yours. “you can dollop me on ice cream or cake, baby,” he whispers firmly and unashamed.

you tip forward and give him a kiss that makes yukhei sigh in delight. when you shift back, both your hands move to cup his jawline. “have you eaten yet? are you hungry? we can order something.” your trip to the grocery store will be tomorrow. but some basics and staples you always have in the refrigerator and cabinets. “or if you want home cooked, i’ll try to make something quick,” you suggest. 

he smiles. “they ordered chicken for us before the performance, but i can definitely eat again,” yukhei says with a laugh. "we can just order something. that'll be fine.”  

you nod and make a move to lift off the blanket. “let me go just clean and freshen up first so i don’t feel like a mess.” from waking up to crying, you imagine yourself to be less than presentable.

yukhei shakes his head though. the grin on his face shines bright like the sun. “my baby is gorgeous,” he declares truthfully and proudly. 

you are beautiful, cute, sexy and every synonym in the thesaurus to him.

the embarrassed and bashful laugh rolls out from your lips as his voice turns faintly singsong. “my baby is the most gorgeous.” you give him a playful push, the heat rising in your face because regardless of the years together now, his compliments and his words still get the best of you. 

yukhei laughs and moves away enough to let you pull the blanket off. like the changing temperatures outside, you are dressed for autumn on the top with his thick heather grey sweatshirt pictured with a golden retriever and summer on the bottom with a pair of black shorts. yukhei gives your exposed thighs a gentle squeeze before pushing himself up to stand. he grabs the strap of his bag still slung diagonally across his chest and brings it over his head. he places it on the coffee table and holds his hand out for you to take. yukhei tugs you up and right into his strong arms and warm embrace. your arms slip underneath the open red bomber jacket he wears to hold his waist. 

you bury your face into him. his head turns and yukhei rests his mouth against your warm skin. deep and slow breaths are taken, remembering one another’s familiar scent that has been missed. you and him stay motionless for a moment until he pats your bottom and kisses your temple. “i’ll look up something to eat. is there something you want?”

your eyes find his. “anything is fine. just give me a minute,” you tell him with a shake of your head.

arms drop and you slip your feet into your pink slippers to go to the bathroom. yukhei watches you walk in and the second the door is shut behind you, he quickly shrugs off his jacket and drops it on the coffee table besides his bag. he jogs his way back down the hall to retrieve the cake and balloons that had been left behind in his search for you.

the ribbons yukhei unknots from its weight and in a slow release, the balloons float up into different directions around him. the weight he puts on the table and to the kitchen he makes his way quickly to with the cake. the tape he rips off and the flaps of the box he pulls open. the sweet scent of fresh cream and fruit fill his senses as he carefully tugs the cake out. the cellophane bag he tears from the box for the colorful candles. he sticks all six candles into the cake until the foiled wrapped bottom disappears. he moves right, opening the second drawer for the lighter. soon enough each candle has a flame and the lighter yukhei puts away. 

slowly he picks up the cake and turns bit by bit. each step he takes is careful and his brows wrinkle. perhaps he should have brought the cake out to the table before lighting the candles. yukhei holds his breath in, afraid he might accidentally blow them out. the water he hears running from the bathroom. he gets to the table with a flame still adorning every candle. he centers the cake to the middle and then every light that is on he closes. the kitchen. the living space. the hallway and even the light in the entryway is off. all that is left are the candles and the sliver of light from under the bathroom door.

yukhei looks between the cake and where you are. he hears the water shut. “babe?” he calls, glancing at the candles burning away.

seconds pass and the bathroom door opens. your hair has been fixed. your face has been washed of the sleep and tears. the light you switch off and you are about to ask what he has decided to eat. but then you look up to find darkness. your heart skips and your movements freeze. the words on the tip of your tongue disappears. then slowly you take one step and then another and another until you see the reason for this.

against the soft glow of the candles, you see his face. you don’t miss his smile or the reflection of the flames in his eyes. his arms rise above his head. 

“surprise!” yukhei giggles delightedly.

washing your face and freshening up has been pointless because you feel the hard tugs in your chest and the immediate sting to your eyes and your nose. then in the quietness as your gaze shifts from the cake to him, you hear his murmured three, two, one countdown. yukhei starts clapping to the beat of your birthday song that he sings loud and proud. you chuckle breathlessly and each step to him to has your eyes turning hazier and your world spinning quicker. you are besides him right as he finishes the song. yukhei cheers and kisses you a handful times on your cheek. you blink back the tears welling up more and more. but it’s useless because they slide down your face. you try your best to quickly wipe them away with the sleeve of the sweatshirt before your arms wrap around his middle. he leans forward to press his forehead to yours.

“do you like it?” he teases.  

you sniffle. “i just washed my face,” your voice wavers with a pathetic chuckle because your emotions are seriously getting the best of you tonight. 

yukhei giggles and watches you slightly pull away to wipe your eyes again. “you know, i thought about barging into the bathroom with the cake. but i didn’t think you would like it very much,” he whispers with a playful smile.

your own laugh slips from your mouth, remembering his story of how the six of them had forced their way into the bathroom with a cake for ten’s birthday. how ten had failed miserably to close the door on all of them. how they had sang him his birthday song with him on the toilet. you shake your head with another sniffle and soft laughter. 

“no, babe, i wouldn’t like it,” you tell him, the glow of the flames highlighting the glassiness of your eyes and your smile.

yukhei drops a short kiss your forehead. “make your wish before the candles burn out.” he tries to step away, but you go back to him first and press a slow and deep kiss to his mouth. he grunts, pleased with it before you release his lips. your arms fall from him and his hand you reach to intertwine fingers. you turn around and walk the two steps closer to the table and cake. yukhei follows your steps and stands behind you. then your eyes shut and you wish for what you have had for the last two birthdays with a little something extra. 

you wish for health, happiness and more birthdays and moments with him. you wish for continuing success for him and you with your jobs and the future. 

your eyes open and you take a deep breath. in two tries the tiny flames goes out. yukhei whoops loudly and you laugh breathlessly. 

darkness fills the apartment but you are holding onto the sun. 

yukhei pulls you back to him and despite the lack of lighting, he presses kisses to the center of your forehead, the tip of your nose and finally to your mouth. “happy birthday, babe,” he murmurs, the smile on his face you feel against your skin. 

you lift your intertwined hands and pucker your mouth to the back of his. “thank you.” 

“let me get the lights.” he lets you go and the lights are switched back on. only a second it is for you to see the balloons surrounding you. a tiny gasp you let out and the light clatter of plates in the kitchen you hear. you tug one down, admiring translucent ballon that has colorful and shiny circular confetti dotting all over the inside. you sniffle the slightest again and chew on the inside of your cheeks.

he is something else. 

when yukhei comes out of the kitchen a moment later holding two plates and two forks and the plastic cake server on it, he catches the sight of you pulling down the matte rose gold balloon. you don’t seem to notice him walking towards you until he is right behind you. your head turns to him as he places the items in his hands down on the table. his hand rises to cradle your cheek. you let go of the balloon and press a kiss to the middle of his palm. 

“you’re a romantic,” you whisper with the corners of your mouth turning upwards.

yukhei laughs, warmth covering his cheeks suddenly at your words. but then he shakes his head. "this is nothing, baby,” he tells you truthfully because he has read about romantic gestures and seen them in dramas and movies to know this isn’t much and doesn’t compare to them. yukhei leans forward to kiss you quickly before taking a step back from you to pull out the chair for you to sit. once you do, he tugs the other chair around the table until it is next to you and takes a seat too. 

you bring the cake closer, noting the small rectangular topper with the name of one of your favorite bakeries tucked between the chocolate curls. the strawberries, the shine muscats and the blueberries look fresh and glossy from the sugar syrup. the chocolate disc with ‘happy birthday’ written in calligraphy is so pretty and neat in between the two perfectly round raspberry macarons. you pick up a chocolate curl and put it in your mouth, smiling as it melts smoothly on your tongue. 

yukhei pulls out the candles that have been burned more than halfway and drops them onto table. he reaches for the plastic cake server and hands it to you to make the first cut. you take it with whispered words of gratitude and when that plastic cake server is pushed through layers of vanilla sponge and fresh cream and fruit, yukhei plants a kiss to your cheek. then a second cut you make and it’s a big slice with a piece of every fruit and chocolate curls. you carefully slide the cake server underneath the slice and lift it up, hoping to keep it in tact. a plate yukhei lifts towards you. with a slight flick of your wrist, the piece of cake falls down with a tiny plop. you push the slice to him.

“you’re suppose to get the first piece. it’s your birthday,” yukhei reminds you.

but you shush him with a quick peck on his mouth and turn back to cut yourself a slice that is just as big with all the fruits as well. a fork he hands to you and one keeps for himself. yukhei stares at you with a small grin while you dig the fork into your piece. 

if you don’t take the first slice, yukhei will make sure you at least take the first bite. you lift up the fork and eat the mouthful you have cut. the sponge is soft and light. the cream is just sweet enough. the strawberry you got with it tastes juicy and a little tart for balance. he giggles when you make a sound of happiness. 

you and your sweet tooth are satisfied. 

“good?” yukhei questions, lifting a finger to gently wipe the bit of cream from the corner of your lips. 

your eyes twinkle. “the best,” you say as he puts that bit of it in his mouth. yukhei smiles at the sweetness on his tongue and on your face.

you are worth it all.

and the cake that you have declared the best and that he wholeheartedly agrees with when he takes his first bite is demolished by you and him. more than half of it is gone. the chocolate disc he leaves to you but the macarons are shared with one each. yukhei comes out of the kitchen with two mugs of warm water to wash away the sugar of the cake. he places them on the table before sitting back down in his seat. your legs rises to rest over his thighs and his hands settle on your skin, caressing it seconds later. you pick up the mug and bring it to your lips. the warm water feels good down your throat. yukhei does the same, taking two long sips and placing the mug down. he stares up at the balloons slightly moving and swaying above and after one more sip, you place your mug besides his. your hand covers his and yukhei turns to look at you upon your soft touch.

you smile fondly. “are you sure you don’t want anything else to eat?” the food you and him had mentioned of ordering had been forgotten in place of the birthday celebration.

yukhei laughs and points to the cake still on the table. “look at how much we ate! i’m good right now.” he playfully pats his stomach. 

a little closer you lean into him. “i don’t want you waking up in the middle of the night hungry,” you whisper with a chuckle. 

because even if yukhei says he is full or even after he has had a big meal, his stomach growls in the middle of the night. he doesn’t, can't sleep and has no choice but to get out of bed for something to fill his stomach. most times it’s ramen. sometimes it’s cereal when he wants something a little sweet. he has also ordered burgers, fries and even fried chicken and rice. you have woken up to his empty side of the bed many times. nearly every time this happens, you end up sitting next to him. his food he always share with you with a boyish smile. and even if sometimes you don’t eat with him, you stay up with him to keep him company.  

“my offer stands if you want something else to eat… even if it is a cup of ramen.”

yukhei laughs and nods. “i really am good right now. but if i do get hungry in the middle of the night, i will be sure to wake you up for that cup of ramen.”

a kiss you place on his cheek. “i’ll be all yours,” you whisper with a smile. 

he leans in until his forehead is touching yours. his gaze is warm and the curve of his mouth is shy and teasing. “and here i thought you already were.” he softly scoffs. 

your face heats. your arms shift to encircle his waist, clutching onto the soft material of his shirt. he lifts an arm to settle behind you on the chair. you look up at him, leaning back a little for your head to rest on the crook of his elbow. 

“always.” 

always he has your heart. forever you want with him. 

yukhei chuckles and kisses your slightly puckered lips. he pulls back and nods. “and me for you. always.” 

you hum in affirmation and turn your head, your gaze dancing between the balloons that gently move about. “i really like the balloons,” you gush quietly. “the clear ones are so pretty.” 

“yeah?” you hear the joy in his voice. “i looked up a shop for balloons closest to the dorms. the store i found has a website. it was the first time i’ve seen the clear confetti ones. i thought they were pretty and that you might like them too,” he states proudly.

you nod against him, but your brows furrow in confusion and curiosity. “how did you get the balloons and the cake tonight?” because from the apartment to the dorms is a good thirty minutes away with no traffic. from the performance venue to the apartment is at least an hour away. with the timing of the concert and their set being one of the last ones, you know he can’t fly.  

yukhei chuckles softly. “i ordered everything earlier this week. manager had someone help me pick up the balloons and the driver drove me to the bakery to pick up the cake before bringing me here. a part of me was scared that i was going to be late and they were going to close. but i got there in time.” he scratches his head and grins bashfully. “i would’ve had come back with only balloons if they did.”

you lift your head and he casts his eyes down at you. your arms still around him, you give his middle another tiny squeeze. “even without a cake or the balloons, i would have still been happy.” you smile fondly at him. 

having him here after the time apart is the best birthday he can give you. 

his cheeks heat and yukhei feels the tugs to his heart. “but do you know what this means though?” he questions softly, the playfulness laced in his voice.

you shakes his head. “what?”

he sighs dramatically, but his eyes shine with happiness. “what am i going to do next year?” his laughter immediately fills the cozy apartment. what his schedules will be like he doesn’t have an inkling of. what is lined up for him he isn’t sure. but if he has the opportunity to see you, be with you and give you what you deserve, yukhei will try his best. 

you chuckle and a moment passes before you hold up your index finger. “i have one suggestion.”

yukhei arches an eyebrow in curiosity. you tug him closer and rest you mouth alongside his ear. your smile yukhei feels even if he doesn’t see it. “nothing.” you shift to look at him. there’s a surprised grin on his face. “as long as you’re by my side, i will be happy.”

the smile on his face expands. his heart swells in his chest. yukhei nods faintly, his big eyes filled with love. “romantic,” he declares softly for you to hear. 

always you accuse him of it. 

you giggle and your hand rises to cradle his jaw. “hmm, only for you.”

yukhei bobs his head approvingly at your response, his warm eyes darts between the sparkle in your gaze and the curve of your pretty lips. slowly he tilts forward to graze your mouth. the back of your head settles against his arm again. you whine at the handful of teasing nips he leaves on your lips until you cannot take it anymore and close the gap. yukhei chuckles into the kiss, trapping you between the chair and his body. your hand falls to clutch onto his shirt. the butterflies dance in your stomach and his brain and body tells him he needs more of you. 

it has been too long since he has kissed you like this. 

his hand on your knee rises to your face. the angle yukhei turns your head allows his tongue to slide into your mouth. your whimper in delight and nudge him back the slightest to give you room to sit up. he groans between the heavy breaths and wet sounds of your mouths before doing so. he is hungry for more and you don’t want to let go yet. for a little longer, noses stroke and bump each other. grips on one another are strong. he and you enjoy the perfect fit of your lips together. 

your breathing is rapid and your heart is pounding when you finally part. yukhei chases after your mouth for one more hard kiss before he is chuckling through his own uneven breaths. your hand rests on his chest, feeling the fast beats of his heart. his hand remains cradling your cheek. you hum, watching through dazed eyes at the dreamy smile on his face. you are about to speak, but yukhei comes back for more kisses. your mouth and body instinctively responds, kissing him back with as much fervor. when yukhei shifts away minutes later, you stare as he licks his swollen lips. you fight for air to fill your lungs again and brush the pad of your thumb over his very wet grinning mouth. 

“hi.” 

yukhei laughs breathlessly and hugs you to him. “i’ve missed kissing you.” 

it's an understatement though because he has missed a lot of things with you. 

he lowers his head to tuck it against your neck. faint and short consecutive kisses you feel on your skin. you whimper quietly and let him stay in place. you let him dot those kisses and let him hold you as close as he wants to until your breathing slowly evens out.

“can i make a suggestion?” you ask softly, setting soothing pats on his shoulder. 

one more little kiss and yukhei lifts his head. “on your birthday? you can make as many suggestions as you wish,” he says. 

you brush the sides of his hair. your eyes soften as you stare at him. “how about we can do a little more kissing after you shower? it’s late, babe. and even if you’re going to deny it, i know you are tired,” you whisper lovingly. underneath the makeup he is wearing, you know there is evidence of his exhaustion and lack of sleep. and with his schedule still tomorrow, you want him to have the proper rest. “okay?”

yukhei winks, the expression on his face playful and cute. “i’m superman, baby.” he chuckles and wiggles his brows. 

the corners of your mouth curls. “and i bet even superman gets tired himself, too.” 

a soft smile forms on his face. this is one battle he won’t win against you, yukhei knows. he nods slowly then. “i would still very much like to kiss you later,” he cutely requests. 

and you laugh, giving him a sweet peck to last until that time comes. you move your legs off of him. “i’ll clean everything up here,” you assure him. “you can go shower.” 

yukhei shifts and stands. he reaches for his mug, taking a quick gulp of the water that has cooled. you get up too and the mug down yukhei puts down before he stretches. an unexpected loud yawn comes out. he giggles shyly at being caught with his current undeniable state as his arms drop to his sides. he takes a few steps away from you and walk towards the coffee table. the watch around his wrist he unclasps, placing it next to his bag before turning around. you place the server on the plate and lift up the leftover cake. yukhei gets to where you are. 

“you sure you don’t want help?” 

your head you shake. “i got it, babe,” you assure him. another yawn he lets out and you shoo him towards the bathroom. “i finished the bottle of remover today. but there’s should be another one in the mirror.”

yukhei grins and kisses your cheek. “cool. thanks.”

off to the bathroom you watch him go and towards the kitchen you bring the leftover cake.

the lights yukhei switches on. he runs a hand over his jawline. you are correct. he is tired. but still, he thinks it’s worth it for tonight. his contacts he takes out and discards. glasses he prefers and a relief it is to have them out because he blinks quickly for a brief moment. 

he’s about to reach for the clear green bottle of makeup remover you always keep on counter before he remembers what you said. his hand moves to the mirror, pulling it open to look for what he needs. toners, serums, cleansing waters and other various skincare products there are but yukhei doesn’t see what he currently needs. he double checks it, turning over a few of them in case the design of the product has changed. his brows wrinkle. 

“babe?” 

his voice you hear while the flaps of the cake box you slip into the slit. 

“did you find it?” you call, picking up the box and walking over to the refrigerator to put it inside.

a response you don’t get though and soon enough after the door is shut, you pad across the tiled kitchen floors and wood floors to the bathroom. “did you find it?” you ask again, seeing him lift up the small jar of eye cream when you get to the door.

“are you sure you have it?” yukhei puts the product back and looks at you. “or do i have to sleep with glitter and eyeshadow tonight?” he asks with a tiny laugh.

you chuckle. “i don’t mind, babe. you look good.” the wink you throw his way causes him to playfully clutch his heart and swoon. you walk over to where he stands and your eyes scan over the products. what you thought you had in there you don’t see. “i thought i had it here. let me check the bedroom.” you turn and leave, going to the bedroom and switching on the lights. 

the small sized shopping bag that you have been using for storage of extra beauty products you look through. it takes a second and successful you are, pulling out the clear green bottle. you return to the bathroom with the item he needs in your hand. but once at the doorway, you find yukhei leaning against the wall. his head is lowered. he is yawning again.  

in bed he needs to be. sleeping he should be doing.  

it takes a second until yukhei realizes your presence and pushes himself off the wall with a laugh. but almost instantly, he is yawning once more. this time his hand rises up to cover it. his gaze spots the product in your hand and there’s a faint tired smile ghosting his face when his hand falls. there is also a slight droop to his eyes, a telltale sign that he’s not getting enough rest. 

“thanks,” he states, reaching for what he needs.

but you shake your head. your free hand rises. you pat him on the chest to stop him from getting what he wants. “are you going to make me sleep with all of this on?” yukhei asks amusingly.

the giggle that slips from your lips is sweet. “no, i’m not going to make you wear it to sleep.” 

he chuckles. “then can i have it?”

you take a step to him, kiss him warmly. “can you sit for me?” you answer, the ends of your mouth curling. an eyebrow of his rises and he’s wondering what you are up to. “you don’t trust me, babe?” you tease with your own eyebrow rising.  

his gaze narrows at you because he is certain you are up to something. regardless yukhei glances around. the countertop. the hamper basket. then he takes the few steps to the toilet, putting down the cover before taking a seat. he looks at you as you reach for the little jar of cotton pads and move to stand in front of him between his open legs. the items in your hands are placed by the edge of the counter besides the both of you. his large hands settles on your hips while he stares up at you.

you look down, examining the makeup. “you know, i really do like this look on you tonight. the eyeshadow is subtle but the glitter is so dramatic,” you note approvingly.

yukhei snorts, the light in the bathroom catching the glitter on his skin and the twinkle in his eyes. you are not sure what is currently shining brighter. “i’ll see if i can make a request for this look again. we have another performance next week.”

you smile and take a step backwards, lightly nudging his long legs to close. 

“move back for me,” you instruct him. 

yukhei follows your directions without a word. there’s a delighted curve of his mouth when you take a step forward again and find a seat on his thighs with your legs on either side of him. 

his hands find your hips at once, gently massaging your flesh over your shorts. “what are you up to?” he laughs as he leans to in to leave a peck on your mouth.  

your eyes widen playfully and you lift a finger to your lips. “shhh.”

in the quietness then, yukhei watches with amusement while you pick up the bottle of makeup remover. you tear off the perforated plastic around the cap and throw it into the small wastebasket by your feet between the sink and the toilet. you shake the bottle until the layers of liquid blend. the cap you twist open and place on the counter. the tiny silver seal you pull off and discard too. then the lid on the jar of cotton pads you lift off and place next to the cap. a cotton pad you take out and yukhei stares at you pouring just enough of the remover onto it before putting the bottle down. your attention returns to him.

he has an inkling of what you are about to do now.

“close your eyes for me,” you direct him with a grin.

yukhei smiles bright and boyish and does what you say. the wet cotton pad you lift up and gently, you hold it against his eye. 

“ten, nine…”

he listens to your countdown, his heart tickled with joy. 

“one.”

immediately yukhei makes a quiet sound of a rocket zooming into space. “blast off,” he whispers enthusiastically.

you chuckle and remove the cotton pad. most of the color is gone. “don't open yet.” you put a hand underneath his chin to tilt his head a little. with his eyes remaining close, a smile remain ghosting his face and in silence, you dab away the rest of the pretty eyeshadow off. you carefully sweep of the glitter. you clean the color off his brows as well.

“left eye is done,” you announce.

yukhei opens both eyes. you show him the dirtied cotton pad with a beam. 

“how do i look?” he laughs, imagining the sight of his jekyll and hyde eyes.

you hum. “still the most handsome,” you tell with a wink.

he leans into you for a sweet kiss on your grinning mouth before you toss away the unusable item in your hand. you reach for another cotton pad and yukhei looks on once more as you do what you had previously did. when you put the bottle of remover down and turn to him, yukhei closes his eyes without your instructions. you laugh underneath your breath and in seconds, you hold the wet cotton pad over his right eye. another quiet countdown you begin as you feel his touch rise a bit to sneak beneath his sweatshirt on your body. yukhei chuckles at the tiny yelp you release with the little tickle he gives you.

the cotton pad you remove after one and his head you tilt up a again. you work on the removing the remaining eyeshadow in the continued quietness. once all the brown color is completely off, you fold up the cotton pad slightly. his eyes slowly open when it touches the area of glitter. your fingers freeze, staring at him as he stares at you. there is an unashamed love struck grin on his face. 

“i trust you.” the slight puzzlement appears on your face briefly. “to answer your question from before… i trust you.” his hands softly run up your sides. “with every fiber of my body and every inch of my heart,” yukhei declares quietly and strongly. “hmm, just in case you didn’t know.” 

slowly you nod, feeling the prickling in your eyes and your heart skips. you lick at your lips. you press them together to stop the spread of a smile. but the attempt is a fail. you’re smiling as you go back to the task of getting the glitter off. butterflies dance in your stomach. your face heats and he keeps his eyes open and place you under the microscope of his intent and loving gaze. 

even after all this time, he has the biggest effect on you.

in a minute then the makeup on his eye is removed. “you’re done, babe,” you tell him, showing him the other dirtied cotton pad. 

his touch shifts to your lower back and you throw the cotton pad into the trash. yukhei puckers his mouth. you kiss him sweetly without hesitation. your hands go to his arms, slipping it underneath the short sleeves to caress the hardness of his muscles.

“do you know what i am thinking?” he smiles alongside your own smile. “how would you like a new job?” yukhei questions with his eyebrows rising up.

your eyebrow soon mirrors his. you chuckle breathlessly and your hands stop moving. “and what job would that be?” your hands come out from his sleeves. your arms rise and wrap around his neck, curiosity in your mind.

yukhei laughs. “my personal makeup remover,” yukhei proposes with a laugh and a glint of mischief in his eyes. 

immediately your own laughter echoes his. “and what are the qualifications for this job, babe?” you inquire, playing along with his silliness.

he chews on the corner of his lip for a second while he thinks. then an excited smile comes up. “you must know how to use a cotton pad and get out glitter and eyeshadow.” yukhei leans forward enough for his nose to bump yours and he giggles. “so what do you say, huh? i’ll talk to the company tomorrow. if you get this job, then we can see each other more. and when we travel, you can come with us. how does that sound to you?” he wiggles his eyebrows in a playful manner.

you bring him closer and kiss him once and twice. “i’ll have to think about,” you inform him teasingly. “i have to consider the salary, you know. and the benefits, vacation days and my insurance. so i might have to make myself some sort of a pro and con list just to see what my options are, babe,” you inform him.  

his face brightens. “i can name you a benefit and a pro right now.”

your brow arches. “really? and what would this benefit and pro be?”

yukhei clears his throat loudly and sits up straighter. he flashes you a smile that melts your heart and makes you want to coo and cuddle him. but you feign ignorance and your mouth twists into a slight frown. “i don’t know what you’re trying to get at, yukhei.” 

mischief yukhei sees flicker in your eyes and there’s an immediate pout on his face. “my heart is hurt, baby,” he playfully huffs out. 

a giggle escapes from you and you go to him again. then one kiss after another you bestow onto his mouth until that pout disappears and his handsome and charming smile makes another return. 

“tease,” he murmurs alongside the sweet curve of your lips.

you hum in confirmation and yukhei chuckles, shaking his head. slowly you pull back and examine the other layer of makeup he still has on his face. “you should wash the rest off now and shower,” you quietly tell him. 

he takes a long deep breath and releases it before nodding. his hands stay on you as you stand. he gently grips and strokes your thighs before his touch drops and you move away from him. you place the lid back on the jar of the cotton pads and the cap on the bottle of makeup remover. yukhei stands and you look at him. 

“you need anything else?” you ask.

yukhei stretches, his long arms going up high to touch the ceiling that is still out of reach. his shirt rises and you see the band his boxer briefs peeking out from the edge of his jeans. slowly he lowers his arms and another yawn yukhei lets out before he speaks. “i’m good. thanks.”

you quickly wash your hands and dry them off on the hand towel hanging. “hmm, just call if you do.” 

a final fleeting little kiss he gives you. the ends of his lips twitch up. “go make your pro and con list, baby,” he whispers.

you giggle, taking steps away from him and closing the door behind you.

the water running you hear immediately with your steps to the bathroom closet. the door you open, reaching for the magenta hair dryer in the basket with your curling iron. you shut the door and walk into the living room towards the coffee table to put it down. the throw blanket you fold back up neatly and stack it with the pillow to place at the end of the couch. your phone you bring into the bedroom, putting it on your bedside table.

then you make your way out and to the table. the candles you dump onto the plates and you bring them into the kitchen and put into the sink. you go back out to retrieve the mugs. the water you pour out and the mugs you rinse. the candles your throw away and the plates and utensils are cleaned off with a little dish soap and warm water. you dry them all and put them back into the cabinet and drawer where they belong. the counter and the table you wipe up as well. the chairs are put back in place opposite of one another at the table. and once the balloons are gathered up, tied to the plastic heart shaped weight again and placed at the center of table like a bouquet, you stand in the kitchen in front of the opened freezer door. 

the package of frozen buns with the red bean filling you still have. that could work for the morning you think. or cereal or yogurt when you open the refrigerator to check. fried rice is also possible if he would like that because a bowl of leftover rice sits besides the leftover cake. 

you walk to the cabinet then, pulling it open. ramen you always have in the house. for a snack or midnight emergencies, it is a staple in the apartment. you reach for the last three packages of spicy ramen. one of yours and his favorites and place them on the counter.

just in case he will be hungry in a few hours. 

and if not, this can also work in the morning too.

“what are you doing?” his voice makes you jump back the slightest as your hand immediately goes to your chest, feeling the quick thumping of your heart. you twist around to look at him and yukhei chuckles guiltily. “sorry, i thought you would have heard the bathroom door.”

you stare at the innocent curl of his mouth and how he stands before you with nothing but the fluffy white towel wrapped low around his hips. the irony of this sight. 

“i didn’t,” you emphasize, feeling your face warm. 

yukhei walks the few steps to you. the glare you shoot him causes the giggle to roll pass his lips. his body is damp but he still pulls you close and you let him. your hands run up his sides and over his chest, feeling the suppleness of his flesh. no matter how many times you have seen him, have outlined the muscles and touched his body, he is a work of art. the soft whimper underneath your breath you let out and he hears it so clearly because yukhei moans quietly under his own breath. too long it has been since you have touched him like this. a deep breath you take and the scent of vanilla you recognize. your heartstrings are pulled on for another time of the night.

he sways your bodies slightly. “i didn’t mean to scare you,” yukhei apologizes once more and kisses your forehead. you say nothing though and pucker your mouth instead. another kind of kiss you want and another kiss and more yukhei gives you because he is pressing a dozen very wet kisses to your lips and cheeks until you’re laughing and squirming with happiness. 

“you’re forgiven!” 

yukhei only holds onto you tighter and closer when he finally lifts his head up with a wide smile. “what were you doing anyway?” he asks. you turn your head and he follows, his eyes finding the packets of ramen that are placed on the countertop. he laughs and glances back at you. 

“just so i can be prepared…” you whisper, the embarrassed smile forming. “in case you get hungry later.” 

the warmth spreads in his chest and yukhei slowly tips forward. the brush of his mouth is affectionate and you lift your arms to slither around his naked middle, your short nails grazing his skin. his beam when he releases your mouth is goofy and love drunk. yukhei presses his forehead to yours and stares at you fondly for a moment before closing his eyes. 

how he loves having you in his embrace. how he enjoys your touch on him. how he has really missed this.

and then you and him stay like this until you feel it. 

it's tiny. it’s cold. it plops gently onto your skin. 

“yukhei…” 

he hums lazily. you feel it again and you are certain he doesn’t realize it. yukhei opens his eyes to see you grinning faintly at him. he hums again, waiting patiently for you to speak. 

“baby, you’re dripping,” you finally inform him with giggles.

as if on cue, another water droplet falls from the strands of his wet hair and onto you. your arms move back yet he makes no intention of letting you go. instead there’s a hint of trouble in his gaze as he smirks confidently. yukhei leans into you once more and his mouth rest besides your ear. his warm breath grazes your skin. 

“that’s supposed to be my line.”

his voice is low and his tone is teasing and it takes a good ten seconds before you’re laughing from embarrassment at what he truly means. you swat at his chest with the back of your hand as your face heats. but yukhei finds it too entertaining, recalling in his mind the pretty and desperate sounds you make when you want him. he leaves a nip on your beaming lips and finally lets you go. he winks and turns around, sauntering out of the kitchen in a dance. you close the cabinet door and walk the same path he does. you lean against the doorframe and watch him pull open the second drawer of the right dresser. 

yukhei glances up at you momentarily. “is there something you need, babe?” he asks with a laugh, picking up a pair of boxer briefs.

you hum while you walk to stand next to him. “can i make a request?” he’s looking back at you again, noting the twinkle in your eyes. he clears his throat and takes half a step back. he holds out his hand towards the drawer, inviting you to choose a pair. you glance down at his drawer of underwear and in a few seconds you find the one you are looking for.

the black pair of boxer briefs with the hot pink leopard band you hold up for him.

he tosses the pair in his hand back into the drawer. “and why did you choose this pair?” yukhei grins and takes the item from your hands.

“because…” you erase the distance between your bodies and grip softly to his naked sides. your mouth brushes his. you suckle at his bottom lip seductively and then back away. “then we will be matching.”

now it’s yukhei’s turn to make the connection before he is certain of what you are talking about. the hot pink pair of simple hip huggers that is soft and smooth around the supple curves of your bottom. yukhei grunts and chews on his lower lip, the image of you in just that forming in his brain. he’s about to wrap his arm around you but you move quicker. you throw a wink at him like he had done so to you minutes ago in the kitchen and blow him a kiss. yukhei watches with a light shake of his head and a broad smile on his face. you walk backwards to the door, still eyeing him as his hand goes to the towel.

he wiggles his eyebrows. “you don’t want a show?” he smirks.

you shake your head again and laugh. “come out when you get dressed.”

with that you leave the bedroom and make your way to the couch.

and yukhei emerges in seconds wearing nothing but the pair of boxer briefs you had chosen. for the most part, he likes the freedom from clothes unless it’s too cold. you don’t complain though because each time you get to admire every inch of him. he ruffles his hair with the towel that was around his waist and spots you sitting on the couch, the magenta hair dryer plugged in and in your hand.

he chuckles. “what are we doing?”

you give what you are holding a little wave. “i thought maybe since you were tired, this might be a little faster,” you scrunch up your nose. “so you can sleep.”

onto the arm of the couch you shift back to sit. you pat the spot you had occupied with your foot and yukhei stares at you with an expanding smile before moving across the wood floors to meet you. he plops himself onto the couch and slips his feet from his slippers. he sits between your open legs and moves a bit to get comfortable. his long legs he stretches out and the towel in his hand he puts on the back of the couch. your legs bend and yukhei lifts his arms enough for them to be tucked against his sides. then his arms drop back down and soon enough he covers your knees with his large hands. 

the hair dryer you switch on. the warm air against his head and skin feels nice. his thumbs brush circles over your skin. yukhei closes his eyes with a pleased grin while your fingers run through his hair and softly massage his scalp each time. he feels all his muscles and his entire body relax from the warmth and the closeness. a few minutes it takes before the hair dryer is turned off. yukhei opens his eyes and his thumbs stop their motions. you put the hair dryer on top of the couch, making sure it doesn’t fall as he lifts a hand to go through his heated soft locks. 

“you’re good to sleep now, babe,” you hear his laughter and he looks up at you. 

his hand falls and yukhei hugs your legs to him once more. “thanks.” 

“anytime,” you respond back. 

he makes no movement to let your legs go from his sides so you wrap your arms around his neck. you lean forward and down to hug him tight. you breath in the scent on his skin and a smile forms on your face. 

“you smell nice,” you comment quietly.

yukhei turns his head to find the shy curve on your face. he catches your mouth. the tip of his nose touches yours and he hums, satisfied at your observation. “i smell like you.”

like vanilla. like home. 

you’re giggling soon enough and he gives you an adoring kiss before he leans slightly back into you. he rests his head on your shoulder. a hand of yours descends to gently and affectionately stroke his bare chest and yukhei stares at you with a warm gaze through the ends of his fluffy hair. 

your face heats and you make a little noise in your throat. “what?” 

yukhei licks his lips. his shy grin comes up on his face. he clears his throat quietly. “how is it that today is your birthday and i come back hoping to do something nice for you. but then you end taking care of me,” he says in awe and with an airy chuckle because really, yukhei thinks it should be the other way around.

you look at the adorable puppy look that suddenly appears on his face. you shake your head, hoping whatever he is thinking and he feeling, vanishes. he should not feel bad. never should he have to. you lean in closer. you brush your mouth against him and remember what he had said to you earlier in the evening. 

your sweet beam forms in front of him. stars flicker in your eyes. “because as long as the day ends in ‘y,’ i will always take care of you,” you whisper truthfully to him.  

instantly yukhei recalls his own words. 

they are a different variation, but it means the same.

i love you.   

yukhei chuckles at your cleverness. he tilts his head a little up to press a few more kisses to you before his mouth drops with faint laughs. “hmm, i forgot i have something for you.” he pulls away from you and reaches for his bag on the coffee table. “but you have to close your eyes first,” he instructs.

you hum and an eyebrow rises in amusement. but yukhei waits patiently for you to do so before he will open his bag. so you oblige and immediately upon your closed eyes, you hear him laughing again and feel the slight movements from him. 

his glasses cases yukhei pulls out first for his gold round frames. then his phone he takes out, placing it on the coffee table because his alarms he must remember to set. then lastly, his wallet yukhei tugs out for what he is really looking for. 

“no peeking,” he giggles.

“i'm not, babe,” you assure him with a shake of your head.

yukhei opens his wallet and takes out what he needs before he drops the it back into his bag. he places the bag back on the coffee table again and in a few seconds, you feel him come back to the same position leaning against you. even with your eyes closed, your hands instinctively run over his shoulders and shift down his chest to hold him close again. but then he takes a hand of yours and places something in your palm. 

it’s paper you can feel. but it’s a tiny bit thicker. the corners are a little rounded and your brows furrow.   

he clears his throat. “okay, you can look now,” yukhei announces with a deep low chuckle.

the few stars you blink away when you finally open your eyes. you’re greeted first by the handsome sight of him and his gold round glasses adorning his face. but then you turn your gaze to what he has put in your hand and realize the reason for the paper material and rounded corners. instantly your pretty laughter surrounds him.

“we filmed an unboxing video and i pulled it,” he informs you through the shakes of his shoulders because his laughter follows yours. you bring the photocard closer, studying the handsome picture of him. how he has made millions crazy doesn’t compare to how he has made you crazy, dizzy with his love. “i thought you might like it.” yukhei tells you with a confident beam.

a hand remains on his chest and your gaze turns to him. “i like it, but…” his face is glowing. he is one of a kind. there is no one like him. you tilt towards him, your nose nuzzling his for a moment. he raises his hand to cover yours and squeezes it gently. alongside his mouth your lips slowly curl. “the real thing is better.” 

yukhei makes a sound of approval of your smooth words before he breaks out into shy giggles. 

“romantic,” he accuses you for the second time of the night. 

a soft kiss he presses on your mouth. you pull away and sit up a bit with a chuckle, running your free hand through his still slightly warm locks. his gaze drops and his touch returns to your knees. his caresses are featherlike before his touches travel down your naked legs as yours soon move across his upper back and shoulder blades.

“when is your next scheduled appointment?” you quietly inquire.

yukhei smiles to himself, knowing your fingertips and gaze are focused on the partially inked animal on his skin. the simple outline he had first gotten done in the middle of the summer. details he has been adding to it in multiple sessions. too big and too much it is for him to have it done in one session and for it to be healing properly in between his filming and promotions. 

“i made one for after the end of promotions. but depending on if something changes with the schedule, the guy said he can see me at anytime if i just give him a little bit of notice.”  

you trace the mouth of the animal. so strong and protective it is. just like him. “i’m excited to see how it will look like once it’s finally finished. it feels like a long while ago since you had part of it done,” you comment. 

yukhei hums. “you know what i was thinking about?” you stroke the animal. he shifts in his seat to glance up at you clearly. “about maybe getting another one. maybe something smaller. what do you think?” 

a breathless chuckle comes out from your mouth. he’s not finished with one and already thinking about another. you look down at the exposed lion on his ribs.

he had chosen the animal himself. to the tiniest details on it, carefully he had pondered and made sure everything was perfect before he had made the appointment and surprised you with his choice. then you had asked him about it. you had been curious of the muzzle he was going to put over the lion’s mouth. yukhei had chuckled. his eyes had darted between your face and your hand he was playing with. 

“did you know the lion in all his fierceness wouldn’t hurt anything if wasn’t hungry. the lion in all his fierceness only bites in hunger. that’s why i like them so much.” yukhei had looked at you then. “they are fierce when they need to be.” 

you had hummed, smiling faintly at how low and deep his voice turned. always it had become that way when he wanted to explain something carefully and thoughtfully, hoping to get his message across clearly. 

“and the muzzle?” your free hand had risen to sweep back the strands of hair that had fallen over his eyes. 

a faint grin had formed on his face. “for control. i want a reminder for myself to never hurt anyone and to be kind. to always love and protect the people i am with no matter what. success will mean nothing if i don’t have the people i love besides me.” 

his reasoning and explanation had warmed your heart.

your hand yukhei had clasped tightly. a soft kiss he had pressed to the back of it. he had chuckled quietly and pulled you closer, clinging onto you with his face nuzzled to your cheek like the animal soon to be on his skin. 

and now you meet his gaze. yukhei chews on his lower lip waiting for your response. “i think as long as you are happy with another, i will be too.” you tell him with sincerity and honesty. “besides, i like them on you. like i told you after the first time, you look hot with them.” your cheeks are heated as you bite back your widening smile. 

even after all this time, even if you have kissed and touched the most intimate parts of his body, simply telling him he is attractive still makes your heart flutter. 

yukhei pushes up his glasses, a shine in his wide eyes. “if i am being honest here, babe, i never pegged you for a lover of tattoos.” his comment draws an immediate giggle from you. “i should have been getting them earlier if i knew they were such a turn on for you.” yukhei finishes his words with a wink.

you shift your feet and plant them softly on his thighs. “do you know where you might want it this time?”

his large hand moves to the right side of his chest. the ends of his mouth curls as he pats it gently. “maybe here. what do you think?” yukhei questions you again, his large eyes turning into crescents. . 

your hand slips underneath his, feeling the softness of his chest. you hum and bob your head slowly. “i think wherever and whatever you choose, i'm excited to see.” you turn to look at him, smiling sweetly before both your arms wrap around his neck once more. “but i do have a question about something?” yukhei sees the glow in your eyes. “do i have a front row seat if you get it?” 

yukhei chuckles instantly and quickly places a gentle kiss to your mouth. “it’s already been reserved for you, baby.” 

you coo at his words before quietly giggling and leaning in to kiss him again and again. he tugs gently at the sleeve of your sweatshirt. even if he is sitting in your arms, yukhei wants you closer. noses stroke against one another’s and he swallows your quiet sigh between hungry mouths. yukhei twists around the slightest, legs bending and ready to pull you down to him so he can face you better and kiss you harder. but his movements have the opposite effects because you let his mouth go. immediately yukhei pulls you back to him and captures your slightly swollen lips between his own again. his hand comes up to cradle your cheek and you feel his other gently grip onto your thighs as he tries again to bring you down to him. a little nip you leave on his lower lip and you shift away again.  

there’s a slight dazed look on his face. a deep chuckle comes out from his wet plump lips. “come back,” he begs and playfully pouts.   

never fully satiated he is. always he wants more of you and your kisses.

your gaze sparkles. you lightly shake your head with a little laugh. “you’re going to make me crush the photocard by accident,” you remind him of the item in your hand. 

his eyes dances between the pretty curve of your mouth and the teasing look on your face. he has forgotten about it, distracted by the kisses and you. 

“it's okay. the real thing is better, right?” he recalls your compliment with a boyish grin and a wink.

you chuckle at once. “the best,” you emphasize. your free hand comes up, gently cupping his warm cheek. “and do you know what the real thing needs, hmm?” 

yukhei tilts his head back a bit and hums. “what would that be?” he questions, shifting his touch back to your legs. 

carefully you slide down, finding a seat on him. he beams happily at the closer contact and his arms wrap around you. he watches the faint curve of your lips form.  

“sleep.”

yukhei scrunches up his nose in playful displeasure. “really? because i’m thinking of something else.” his tone is teasing and it makes your cheeks warm because you know what he’s thinking.   

you have missed him in so many ways, too.

the few inches between your faces you erase. foreheads press together. your hand cradles his face again, the pad of your thumb stroking his cheeks. “more than anything, babe.” you give him a soft kiss. “but whether it will be in thirty minutes or in seven hours,” because insatiable you and him are for one another during your reunions. “you and i going to regret it when you fall asleep out of no where tomorrow.” he chuckles softly after your giggle. you don’t want his manager regretting his decision. “so what do you say we leave the proper reunion for next time and you sleep with me in a different way tonight?” you move your hand to place on his chest above the thumps of his heart. 

yukhei shifts, his hands going to hold onto your sides. there's a smile ghosting his face because he knows a part of you is correct, even if all he wants is you. yukhei nods slowly with a deep breath.

“okay. but for your information though, i will sleep with you any way, anytime and anywhere,” he states firmly with a shameless smile.   

your quiet laugh slips out your beaming mouth and your cheeks burn from his words. “then how about you hold me close in the bedroom in our bed in about ten to fifteen minutes,” you suggest innocently with a wink. 

but his brows wrinkle, the slight puzzlement apparent. “why ten to fifteen minutes?”

“because i haven’t washed up yet,” you inform him with the corners of your lips twitching up.

yukhei presses a few kisses to your cheek. “ten to fifteen minutes then.”

your pat his chest softly before you begin to move out of his hold and off of him. your place your bare feet on the wooden floors and stand. yukhei watches from behind as you go to your desk. you reach for the picture frame with the photograph of you and him from your first trip together. you turn it over, removing the backing and the picture inside to place the photocard in the lower left corner of the frame. 

“what are you doing?” he chuckles, staring at your back.

but all you do is hum contently. the photo of you and him is put on top of it and the backing you secure on again. the picture frame in your hand, you turn around to show him. yukhei releases an excited laugh instantly and you set it down besides your computer. you make your way back to him and slip into your slippers before walking to the side of the couch, unplugging the hair dryer to put away. his feet slide into his own pair of slippers. his phone he grabs as you extend your free hand for him to take. 

and yukhei does, standing up and pulling you to him. he looks at you and smiles. “do i still get to kiss you in bed?” 

you giggle. “i’ll be quick.”   

then his hand you let go and to two different directions you and him part towards. you to the bathroom closet to put away the hair dryer before going into the bathroom and him to the kitchen. 

half a glass of water yukhei drinks. then the glass is rinsed and the light he switches off. yukhei walks into the bedroom and his phone is placed on his bedside table. the comforter he pulls back. two pillows he rearranges for the ends of the bed for your and his feet. he gently kicks off his slippers and climbs into the bed. one and then another fluff yukhei gives his pillow before he lays down. the pillow feels like a cloud and his long arms and legs stretch out across the mattress. the bed at the dorms is comfortable, but this bed is a different kind of comfortable. 

it’s another kind of comfort. 

yukhei takes in a deep breath. everything smells of vanilla and florals and the spring fresh detergent. the tension and the tiredness in his body slowly loosens. your pillow he tugs to him to hug. he will give it back when you come. his free arm he folds and tucks underneath his head while a yawn he lets out. he hears the faint sound of the water running in the bathroom. he listens to the glass bottles against the countertops. 

his head turns, catching the clock on your bedside table and notes the numbers glaring in red. in eighteen minutes it will be midnight. yukhei lets out a short and quiet chuckle to himself. the difference between the last few minutes of his birthday and yours makes him wish for a machine to stop time. so you and him can catch up on the rest. so he can love you like only he is able to. so he can stay a little longer with you. another yawn comes out and yukhei reaches for his phone, awaiting for your return.

and when you leave the bathroom a few minutes later with your teeth brushed and your nightly skincare routine down, the lights you turn off too. the bouquet of balloons you take another glance at with a tiny grin and then the living space is in darkness. you pad quietly across the wooden floors towards the bedroom. but at the doorway, you freeze. 

your pillow he holds against his side, reminding you how you have done this on nights when you yourself really missed him too much. his phone he is clutching to the rise and fall of his chest. those round gold frames are still adorning his face over his closed eyes. 

surprised you are not at how he has apparently fallen asleep. 

you stare at him. too peaceful he looks right now and all you want to do is not wake him. so you stand at the door for a moment longer wondering how and hoping you will be able to help him remove those glasses and take the phone from out of his grasp without disruptions. 

“are you going to stand there or come join me, birthday girl?” the sudden question echoes in the bedroom and causes you to let out the quiet curse underneath your breath. yukhei cracks one eye open and then the other before chuckling softly. 

“i was trying to figure out how not to wake you up,” you say, a small smile ghosting your face. “i thought you fell asleep.” 

he shakes his head. “without you? never, babe. especially not today.” his gaze stays on you making your way to the window, tugging the curtains to leave a sliver of it open before turning towards the bed. “i gotta make sure your day ends the way you want,” he says happily with a beam. 

your feet slip out of those fuzzy pink slippers. the bed dips with your added weight when you climb on. you go to him on your knees. your pillow you tug out of his arm with a laugh because you want to take its place. yukhei smiles warmly, putting his phone down on his bedside table and lifting his arm to welcome you. he hums delightedly while you get comfortable against him. legs tangle and his arm hooks around you with his hand settling on your thigh. 

a kiss you press onto his mouth. “you’re here right now with me. my day is ending better than i could have ever imagined today,” you whisper, propping up an elbow to rest your head on your hand. you gaze down at him and observe the softness of his wide eyes and the curve of his lips etched on his face. “so, i'm happy.” 

yukhei hums quietly with a grip to his heart. “all i ever want is to make you happy,” he tells you sincerely. 

a moment passes. a breathless little laugh escapes you. “baby, you make me fly over the moon.”

how he has made you happy these last few years is indescribable. how he has changed your world into something unimaginable is a wonder you are still fascinated with. 

he is real and you are truly lucky to have him in your life.

another kiss you press onto his mouth and sweep across his cheek. then you nuzzle your face into his neck. for a little while it remains as is. it’s quiet. it's comfortable. it's just you and him in the world. your hand rises to rest on his chest. he feels the softness of your skin and you listen to the slow and calm breaths of his. you snuggle closer to him, pressing your body to his a little more. 

“the bed feels warmer with you in it,” you finally whisper into the night. “have i told you that before?” gradually you lift your head to look at him.   

yukhei smiles faintly. “no, you’ve never told me that before.” a tender graze of his pillowy lips is bestowed on your nose. “is that what you’re thinking about right now? that the bed feels warmer with me in it?” he murmurs teasingly with tugs in his chest. 

“hmm. and i am also thinking how tonight i’ll get to hug you instead of the your pillow tonight.” a shy quiet giggle follows your confession. 

he laughs deeply. “i told you we should’ve gotten that lion last time,” he whispers with a snap of his fingers. the trip to the furniture store months ago for his bedside table he recalls. the big and soft lion he had found and suggested to purchase only for you remind him that he had been the only thing you needed.  

you briefly chew on your lower lip with the warmth spreading across your face. “the real thing hugs better and keeps me much warmer,” you inform him, your eyes twinkling. 

at your words, yukhei promptly hugs you tighter. you laugh and the few centimeters between your mouth and his skin you disappear with the sweet puckers to his cheek.  

“what time are you getting picked up tomorrow?” you ask once you pull back.

a few more hours you have with him. 

“manager said he’s going to be here at nine,” yukhei answers, turning slightly to reach back for his phone. you watch in silence as he taps in his password and goes to his clock. then five alarms ten minutes apart he sets up starting at seven forty five to ensure he will be on time like he has promised. 

you stroke his chest affectionately. “i’ll wake up with you. maybe we can have breakfast together.” 

yukhei shakes his head at your words though. the idea of having a meal with you before he leaves sounds like a plan he always welcome. but he also knows it’s the weekend and he much rather you catch up on sleep especially knowing how tired you have been. “it’s okay. you should sleep, babe. we’ll have other breakfasts. i’ll just let you know when i leave, okay?”

you mirror the response he had given you within seconds, shaking your head right back at him. “but i want to though. i’ll go back to sleep afterwards or i can take a nap in the afternoon. or maybe i can do the grocery shopping before i head to the gym earlier.”  

the last words out your mouth has him sighing with a wide grin. “i’ve miss our workout sessions.”

yukhei has missed those colorful tight tops with zippers and crisscrosses and bottoms that outline your curves and leave very little to his imagination. he has missed watching you focus despite the light glisten to your skin. he has missed feeling how your body moves only for him when those tops and bottoms are off your body. he has missed how he gets to cherish all of you for hours on end. 

you hear the low and unmistakable groan from his throat that makes you laugh. 

and as much as he has missed it, you have too. 

you have missed watching the playful shows he puts on. you have missed feeling the dampness of his body against yours. you have missed caressing the strong and hard muscles of his as he shows you all his hard work. you have missed catching his boyish grins as tries and fails at pretending to not stare at you. and when it is too hot and everything comes off, you have missed how he touches you like only he is allowed to.  

yukhei watches you run your tongue over your lower lip. he sees the gleam in your gaze. “how about on your first day back, we will have a workout session.” your pinky you hold out for him to hook on. “and if you are okay with it, we can make it an all day all night workout session.” you shoot him a wink that causes the happy giggle to come out as he nods and hooks onto your pinky with his. 

once he releases it, yukhei pushes up his glasses with his index finger. “you're such a tease, babe, you know that?” he accuses you with a little pout. immediately you laugh, the sound like a melody that warms his soul. you watch the pout in front of you slowly change into wide smile. “but i’ll very much be looking forward to it.” 

you purr teasingly and lean in to peck him quickly. “me too, babe.”

yukhei turns his head and lifts his phone, checking the time. three more minutes left until it is midnight. how the day is ending is not what you had expected. 

“thank you for the birthday surprise.” your words of appreciation are quiet and sweet. yukhei turns his attention back to you, humming softly at your gratitude. “i think this has been one of my favorite birthdays.” a kiss you leave on the tip of his nose and he lets out a breathless giggle. 

“just so you know, i still intend on taking you out for a birthday dinner when i get back.” you nod, feeling the small curve of your mouth form and your cheeks heat. “but until then…” you watch him swipe for the camera. a soft laugh rolls out of your mouth as yukhei turns the camera into a selfie. 

“you're naked, yukhei,” you remind him, connecting your eyes to his through the screen.

he laughs loudly, the smile on his face beautiful. “i have underwear on that apparently matches yours,” he jests, remembering your words from earlier. closer yukhei hugs you then. he angles the camera to get you both clearly and capture the last few moments of the day. your hand settles back on chest. 

“smile, birthday girl.”

and yukhei snaps a series of photos of the breathtaking beam on your face and that undeniable sparkle in your eyes because you are truly happy. he captures images of you lovingly kissing his cheek as he playfully swoons. he gets the pictures of silly faces and tongues sticking out. and right before the clock strikes midnight, yukhei catches the shot of him leaving the very wet kiss on your cheek that has you squealing and him swearing he can hear your giggles through the phone. 

a year older you are, but he still makes your heart flutter like a school girl with her crush.

yukhei passes his phone over for you to swipe through the photos. each picture has you smiling too wide and loving him more. he snuggles his head against yours like a puppy and clings onto you. he takes a deep breath and exhales slowly. he closes his eyes and recalls your comment to him.

even superman is tired himself sometimes.

you chuckle quietly. “you know, we ended your birthday with you licking cream off of my body. we end my birthday taking selfies in bed with you semi naked.”

yukhei laughs. “don't you know, babe? we’re versatile. sexy and sweet. hot and cool. even dark and dangerous sometimes,” he declares with a laugh again, opening his eyes. you grin and click shut his phone. you turn to find his half lidded gaze. 

“and right now we’re…”

“hmm, right now we’re just soft and cuddly,” he proposes with a giggle.

a hand of yours rises, running through his fluffy locks. he hums at your gentle touches and watches as you slightly pucker your mouth. yukhei doesn’t waste a moment, meeting them with his own in a gentle brush. 

the smile on his face is dreamy once he pulls back. “are you ready to sleep?” you ask softly. 

if he sleeps now, he’ll manage almost eight hours of sleep if he really does not wake up hungry in the middle of the night. the phone you hand back to him and yukhei reluctantly moves away to sit up. the phone wire he reaches for to charge it and he checks once more that the alarms are set. you move to your own bedside table, charging your own phone. yukhei takes off his glasses and places them beside his phone. then his long legs are thrown over the side of the bed and he stands. he forgoes his slippers and walks over to the light switch. he watches you fluff your pillow and tug up the comforter before finally laying down, facing where he will be in a few seconds. your gaze he catches and yukhei smiles affectionately at the sight of you waiting for him.

a light pat you give to the empty space beside you. “are you going to stand there or come hold me, superman?” you inquire sweetly. 

yukhei laughs, the deep sound echoing in the bedroom. a little nod he gives you and the lights are off. he finds his way back to the bed. the comforter you shift around to make sure his body is covered enough and he is warm. his arms slips around you, his touch goes underneath the sweatshirt to feel your skin. legs are entwined again. faces are mere inches apart and soon enough your eyes adjust to the little moonlight and city lights from the distance filtering into the darkness. 

you can make out his face. yukhei swears he sees you smiling at him before you lean in to kiss him tenderly once and twice. a deep inhale of vanilla and home yukhei takes. he exhales slowly, feeling so calm and the steady beats of his heart.

“goodnight, birthday girl.”  

you shake your head in the darkness. “my birthday has ended,” you remind him, slipping a hand underneath your cheek.

yukhei hums. “and somewhere in the world it is still your birthday.” those words draw an immediate light giggle from you, remembering them from the night of his birthday. “so until it isn’t your birthday somewhere in the world, goodnight, birthday girl,” he softly says. then one and then two kisses he grazes on the lips.

you don’t argue with him when he pulls back. instead your hand moves to cup his cheek, your thumb caress his skin like how he likes. 

“goodnight, babe.” 

he makes a quiet sound of delight. another deep breath yukhei takes. you are certain he will not be lasting long. his eyes slowly shut. “i like that,” yukhei murmurs with a sigh. 

and within mere seconds, you are correct. it doesn’t take long for you to soon hear his deep and even breaths. he is out. the movement of your thumb gradually stops and your hand drops. carefully you move forward. a final tiny kiss you press on his slightly parted plump lips. then in his arms, listening to his soft snores, you fall into your own slumber.

you dream of him. you dream of a future with more birthdays together. you dream of the dreams you and him have whispered only to one another until there’s a familiar annoying sound that tells you to the sun is rising over the horizon.

the pillow underneath your head you grip onto. your foggy brain registers the tired groan coming from behind you. then comes the soft thuds because yukhei blindingly feels for his phone. it takes three very lethargic tries before he is able to tap on the screen. the alarm stops and his arm falls and hangs off the edge of the bed. he buries his face into the pillow and sighs in annoyance and tiredness. 

until the next alarm yukhei thinks to himself. he will get up with the next one.

but you will yourself to open your eyes, gently rubbing them while you roll over. the space between your bodies underneath the comforter disappears. your arm drapes over his naked waist to hug him from behind. yukhei stirs a little at your touch. he feels your face against his back. legs are tangled once more and your breaths tickle his warm skin. his hand shifts to cover yours, tugging you close.

“ten more minutes,” he mumbles underneath his breath. 

all yukhei wants is just a little more sleep in this warm bed with you. 

but you think ten minutes cannot be wasted. not when he cannot be late. not when you want a simple breakfast with him. so you settle for more five minutes of holding him like how he holds you, cherishing this moment of you shielding him. 

then your lips you pucker. two tender kisses you brush onto the middle of his back. carefully, you untangle yourself from him. yukhei makes a tiny grunt of displeasure in his throat at you parting from him. you sit up, the comforter shifting over him. you turn and press a long and gentle kiss on his shoulder blade. yukhei sighs, seemingly settling back into sleep. you scoot over to your side and sit still momentarily. you wait for your mind to clear a bit more. your feet slide into your slippers and you get up. the door you silently shut behind you as you walk out the bedroom to the bathroom.

more awake you are when you exit minutes later with your face washed and your teeth brushed. you pull open the curtains in the living room. the space fills with the morning light. a little glance you give the bouquet of balloons that sway the slightest in the air when you pass them to the kitchen. you can’t stop the small smile spreading on your face at the ramen that remains on the countertop.

he really wasn’t hungry after all.

a glass of water you drink and you get to work. the large steamer pot you get from the lower cabinets. you fill it a quarter way up with water, eyeballing the exact amount you need because you have done this many times before. the lid you place on it and the air vent hood you switch on before you turn on the burner. a smaller pot you reach for next. just enough water you put in for the three packets of ramen. to the freezer you move to and the bag of frozen buns with the sweet red bean filling you take out. the steamer basket section you quickly rinse. the six buns the sized of his palm you place on it. two bowls and two pairs of chopsticks you clean too before you stop moving. your gaze falls to the two pots of water, drumming your fingers quietly on the countertop.

“it won’t boil faster just because you are staring at it.”

you look up at the sound of his husky morning voice. a pair of sweatpants yukhei has put on, but a shirt he is still without. you get a glimpse of the hot pink leopard print band peeking from the edge of his sweatpants. his bed hair has been combed. his round gold rimmed glasses are on his face and it frames the soft look he’s giving you.  

yukhei chuckles at the way you scrunch up your nose at him. “i have magical powers, don’t you know?” he pads slowly across the tiled floor, his hand reaching out for you when he’s two steps away . a morning greeting kiss he presses onto your mouth. the hint of mint from the toothpaste you taste in the kiss. “i thought you were going to sleep a little longer. i was going to wake you up.”

and then it’s his turn to scrunch up his nose. “i wanted to sleep a little longer with you.”

the quiet chuckle escapes from you and yukhei steps closer, wrapping an arm around you. your hand rises to brush the softness of his locks while he leans in for another kiss. “you hungry? you really didn’t wake up last night.” your comment draws out a boyish laugh from him. 

“i told you i wasn’t going to be hungry. but i’m starving right now.” yukhei shifts back and it doesn’t take long for him to notice the buns in the steamer section and the packets of ramen you had taken out last night sitting beside it. your eyes follow where his have stopped. 

“is this okay? or enough? i’ll make something else if you would like.” 

yukhei laughs and plants a kiss on your forehead. “it’s more than okay and enough. do you need help with anything?” he questions, wanting to do something too.

you shake your head though, the steam from the pots catches your attention. you pat him gently and he moves back a step from you. the tangerine plaid oven mitt you reach for and the lid of the larger pot you remove. yukhei watches you put the steamer section on top of the boiling water before placing the lid back on. fifteen minutes it’ll take and you think after the ramen cooks and have been eaten, it will be ready.  

a bag of ramen yukhei picks up to open. the noodles he drops in as you take off the oven mitt. he opens the other bags of ramen and the rest of noodles are in too. “do you want to add an egg?” you take the soup base packets and rip them all together to pour into the pot. instantly the air is scented with warm spices.

yukhei hums, walking to the refrigerator. one for you and him he gets. but the eggs you take from him and put them on the counter, not allowing him closer to the stove. “you’re going to burn yourself,” you tell him, playfully poking at his chest.

his chuckle is soft and he turns around, jogging out the kitchen. you glance up from breaking up and stirring the noodles when he comes back in less than thirty seconds wearing a t-shirt. the two thumbs up he gives you causes you to laugh. you watch him come back right besides you. a small bowl yukhei takes out and an egg he picks up. then one and the other he cracks into the bowl, examining it for a moment to make sure of shells. a smile he flashes at you and he pours them into the pot of boiling ramen. a quick clean of the bowl he does and he puts it on the counter to dry.

“i’ll bring these out.” the chopsticks he gets and two spoons you have forgotten he brings out. you wait another minute and give the ramen one last stir before the burner is shut off. the noodles you separate, putting a lot more into the bowl for him. yukhei comes back in just as each bowl is topped with an egg and the delicious soup is poured over the top. once you move away, carefully yukhei picks up a bowl. 

“the bigger bowl is yours.”

he nods with a shy chuckle and carefully twist around to bring it out to the table. you wash the pot as he comes back in for the second bowl. a plate and a pair of tongs you take out, leaving it on the counter for the buns continuing to steam away. you follow the footsteps he had taken just moments ago out the kitchen. an immediate smile ghosts your face at what you see. 

side by side the chairs are once again. 

the bouquet of balloons he has put in front of the bowls of noodle. you walk the few steps to the table, pulling out the chair to sit. your gazes move to the clock. a little more than thirty minutes you have with him. yukhei comes out of the bedroom with his phone in his hand. "do you want something to drink?”

you hum. “can i just have water?” 

yukhei puts his phone down and goes back to the kitchen. two glasses of water he comes out with and he puts it down in front of you. he pulls his chair out to sit. his hand reaches out to rest on your thigh. gently you bump your shoulders to his and yukhei looks at you to find the small curve of your smile. 

“you moved the chairs,” you point out sweetly.

an embarrassed giggle rolls pass his beaming lips and his cheeks heat. “i don’t know what you’re talking about.” yukhei wrinkles his brows and feigns innocence. you lean over, planting a soft kiss to his cheek. 

“romantic.”  

yukhei bends forward and plants a fond kiss onto your mouth. “thanks for breakfast.”

you pick up your pair of chopsticks. “it was teamwork,” you remind him.

yukhei nods slowly, staring at the smile you are giving him. “teamwork,” he quietly murmurs with the corners of his mouth twitching up.

he likes, loves that word with you. 

his pair of chopsticks yukhei picks up. a big bite of noodles he gets. he blows on it for a few seconds and then he slurps it. a very satisfied sound of delight he makes as he chews the hot noodles. and once he swallows it, a gratified moan he lets out.

“i think this is the best ramen i’ve had in a long time,” he compliments you.

a quiet chuckle comes from you while you playfully roll your eyes. “and i think you’re just starving.” he laughs and squeezes your thigh gently at your response. he turns back to the noodles to get another mouthful. 

then with soft words spoken, stomachs are filled with spicy ramen while hearts are filled the warmth of having breakfast with each after the weeks apart. yukhei doesn’t remove his touch from you. he lets it remain there on your skin from the first to the last bit he takes because knowing you are next to him brings him a comfort he will be missing soon. 

a happy sigh you hear from him once the last noodle is slurped into his mouth. 

“do you want more?” you push your bowl of noodles to him. but yukhei shakes his head with boyish laughter. you put down your chopsticks and spoon. “the buns should be done though.” yukhei makes a move to get up, but you stop him. “i got it.” 

you pull away from him and stand. yukhei watches you walk into the kitchen. he hears the air hood vent shut off and the metal lid against the countertop. he brings up his glass of water for a sip and he glances at the clock, noting the time left until he is suppose to get picked up. 

soon it will be.

you come out of the kitchen just as yukhei pushes his chair back. “i was going to see if you wanted help or something,” he says with grin. 

“i told you i got it,” you remind him with a smile.

the bowls yukhei moves a little out of the way for you to put down the plate of buns between you and him. he sees the steam rising up and grins wider, feeling hungry all over again as if he hasn’t eaten anything. the tops are smooth. they are perfectly round like a dome and looking really soft. 

your seat you sit back in. a glimpse of the time you take. you chew on your lower lip momentarily before looking at him picking up a bun. yukhei yelps and then giggles at the how hot the food is against his skin. you pick up your chopsticks and spoon again to finish up the last of your noodles. yukhei tears the parchment paper off the bottom of the bun and then carefully rips it in half. the steaming sweet red bean filling comes into view and he wows at the scent and sight of it. 

yukhei lifts his gaze to meet yours. there's a teasing glint in his wide eyes and a tender and warm smile on his face. he holds out one side for you. 

“for my other half.”

his cheesy words brings out the instant laughter from you. your cheeks suddenly burn hotter than the food in his hand and you feel the twinge of ache in your swelling heart. 

breakfast with him, moments like this, you will forever cherish.

you take what yukhei offers and you give him an affectionate kiss in return. he hums happily once you shift back. your body turns a little towards him and you watch him blow on the filling to cool it slightly. then a big bite he takes. the bun is as soft as it looks. the filling is as delicious as he remembers. he pops the rest into his mouth and you chuckle quietly at his stuffed cheeks before blowing on your own half and taking a bite. 

it’s quiet for a moment then and you finish what you have. yukhei swallows everything in his mouth and reaches for another bun. the parchment paper he rips off and like the first one, he rips the bun in half. the other half he offers you again, but you shake your head. you wipe your hands on the napkin besides you and reach for your glass of water. he puts half of the bun into his mouth and you put the glass back and catch the time on the wall.

his manager will be here shortly. you want him to keep his promise. 

you prop your elbow on the back of your chair, resting your chin on the palm of your hand. yukhei turns his head to look at you. despite his full cheeks, he smiles. you lift a finger and lightly bop the tip of his nose. he slowly chews and swallows his food. 

the corners of your mouth briefly twitch up. “you should get ready soon,” you whisper. you feel the sudden prickling in your eyes and nose. “i don’t want you to be late.” 

an immediate ache yukhei feels across his chest. your eyes drop from his and your free hand picks at the invisible lint on your sweatshirt. he finishes the bite in his mouth and settles a hand on your thigh. yukhei moves closer. his face is mere centimeters from yours and he stays like this, motionless with his breath just tickling the edge of your skin until you have no choice to lift your watery gaze back to him. you let out a small embarrassed laugh because too many times to count he has left for his schedules. days, weeks and months apart you and him have endured. 

this is like any other time. he will come back to you. 

you chew on your lower lip for a moment. “i don’t know why i’m crying,” you whisper and chuckle foolishly.  

yukhei grins softly though, his own wide eyes stinging and shining a little too because what you are feeling he feels too. he scrunches up his face playfully to stop the tears building in his own eyes. then he leans in closer and captures your lips to kiss you warmly once. then again. and again and two more times before the pretty smile that he has embedded in his head and heart comes out. 

“hi.”

your hand rises to cup his cheek at his quiet affectionate voice. he gently bumps the tip of your nose with his. you tilt forward to give him a warm kiss. 

“i love you.”

the smile on your and his face gradually expands. 

yukhei pulls back and makes a dramatic scene of plopping the other half of the bun in his mouth and stretches his arms up over his head. you make a quick dab on your eyes and laugh quietly. you reach out to gently rub at his stomach now filled with food. “go get ready. make sure you have what you need. i can clean up, okay?” 

his arms fall back down, his hand settling over yours on his stomach. yukhei picks it up and lifts it to his mouth that is now free of food. he presses a sweet kiss onto your palm. “thanks.”

and it’s you to reluctantly move away first, pulling your hand out of his grasp and standing up. you pick up the utensils used and the your own bowl first. the kitchen you carefully walk to and the items in your hands are gently placed in the sink. you turn around and within two steps you take, yukhei is there. he moves towards you with his bowl in one hand the plate of buns in the other. you hurry and take the bowl from him as he sets the the plate on the countertop.

“didn't i tell you i was going to clean it up?” you ask with a chuckle. “your phone is going to ring any second and yours and my ass are going to get kicked.” 

yukhei giggles. “i wanted to save you the extra trip.” he leans over, plopping a quick little kiss to your forehead and sneaking a hand behind you. there’s a little smirk playing on his lips while he gives your bottom a sudden squeeze that causes you to yelp and laugh in surprise. “and if you have forgotten, babe, in your words too, i'm the only one who can touch.” 

you remember them so fondly. bodies sticky and hearts so full. you had said it to him after a month apart. 

people can look all they want, but he is the only one who can touch you. 

in seconds then, yukhei is holding you close and swaying you back and forth with the sweet sound of your laughter becoming his music. the mischief you see in his eyes because another soft squeeze to your flesh you feel. immediately you lick at your lips and you whimper teasingly. the mischief in your gaze mirrors his and your hand rises to gingerly push up the gold rimmed frames on his face. 

“only you, baby.” you confirm.

one more kiss, short yet loving, is shared. you reach behind him unexpectedly and squeeze his bottom like how he did to yours. yukhei laughs, that sound coming deep from his chest as you beam innocently at him and his eyes shine with love. 

“now go get ready before your ass is going to get kick.” and before yukhei can erase the distance between smirking lips, you gently push him away with a shake of your head.

it will be kiss after kiss after kiss. 

yukhei playfully splays a hand over his heart in pain at being denied. he turns around from you. your pretty laughter he hears behind him while he saunters out the kitchen dramatically towards the bedroom.

you glance at the four buns on the plate before taking a few steps to drawer for what you need. the aluminum foil you take out. quickly you wash your hands and dry them on a towel. a sheet of it you tear off. three buns you place on the aluminum. it's still just the tiniest bit warm. carefully you wrap them up without squishing any of them too bad. the rest of aluminum foil you put back and a small food plastic bag you get. the wrapped food you put inside and you seal it up, letting out as much air as possible. the food you pick up and you tell yourself you will clean and wash everything up after he leaves.

the scent of his cologne is faintly in the air once you step out of the kitchen. yukhei stands by the coffee table, securing his watch on his wrist. a sweater he is wearing now and socks are on his feet too. a glance at the time tells you his manager should be outside right now waiting for him. quietly you walk to him and your presence yukhei feels despite his back to you. he twists around and stares with curiosity at the item in your hand. 

“what is that?” he puts on his jacket and picks up his bag. he throws the strap over his head to rest on this shoulder.  

you chuckle softly and hold out it out for him to take. “the buns… in case you get hungry in the car or something.” even if it will be a thirty minute car ride to the dorms, you know how his stomach can work sometimes. “there’s three in here so you can share if you want. but if it isn’t enough, i’ll wrap up the last one too.” 

yukhei takes what is in your hand with a warm smile and a pull on his heartstrings. “it's more than enough. thanks.” the strap of his bag he adjusts across his jacket and chest. 

a slow breath you take to calm your thumping heart. “are you ready?” 

his phone is in his pocket. his watch is on his wrist. his glasses case is in his bag next to his wallet. he’s wearing his jacket. everything he has with him, but one more thing he still needs to do.

“yeah, i got everything with me,” he reassures.

you nod slowly. “is he here yet?”

yukhei giggles and takes your hand in his, lacing fingers together. “he texted a minute ago. he's been outside apparently for the last fifteen minutes. he wanted to give me until the last second,” he informs you happily. 

your heart is tugged at by the gesture and an airy and quiet chuckle you let out. his hand with yours firms a touch. in silence, you follow after his slower than usual steps to the entryway. yukhei releases your hand and you take back the buns for him to slip his feet out of his slippers and put them back in their spot. you find support with the wall, watching with a sting to your eyes and arms across your chest while he puts his feet into his sneakers. he stands back up straight once they are on comfortably. 

yukhei walks the three steps to you, wrapping his arms around you without a word. you purse your lips firmly together for a minute with eyes avoiding his. he still smiles faintly though, leaning in drop a tiny kiss to your warm cheek. your arms uncross and immediately go around his neck. the buns still in your hands settle against his back. you take a deep breath and let it out slowly with cheeks puffing out slightly before finding his gaze. yukhei sees the glistening in your eyes again and presses his forehead to yours. before he can whisper words of comfort, you speak first though.

“you think you can do me a favor?” the tip of his nose brushes yours. yukhei nods and you give him a faint yet steady smile. “give two messages to your manager for me.”

yukhei lifts his head away almost immediately and laughs in surprise. his eyes widen and his grin is so big. “what would that be?” he questions incredulously.  

through your watery eyes, he sees the tiniest sparkle. you bring a hand between the two of you and hold up a finger. “one, tell him that i really loved my surprise." he giggles and nods. a second finger comes up. "and two, tell him i think he's whipped for you, too, and totally playing favorites." the corners of his eyes crinkle with his deep laughter. yukhei hugs you close and tips forward again, capturing the curve of your mouth in a kiss. he swallows your content sigh and your arm wraps back around his neck as you pour every bit of yourself into him.

how you wish to stop time and kiss him longer. 

once he pulls away with a tender bite on your lips, yukhei stares at the tip of your tongue slowly coming out to lick at the wetness over your mouth. "is that all, then, babe?” yukhei quietly jest, moving his hands to hold onto your hips. 

and you shake head. “you think you can do something for me?” your heart aches. he nods softly, feeling the warmth in his chest when you bestow a chaste peck onto his smile. “don't forget to look into that job for me, okay?” you tease with a sweet grin.

confusion etches across his face for the briefest moment until realization seeps in. the moment in the bathroom from last night comes back into his mind. yukhei hums. “first thing i’ll do when i get in later.” he stares at you, feeling his own chest tighten more because you blink back tears ready to fall. “anything else?”

you nod. “thank you,” you whisper, trying your best to keep your voice steady. "and i love you.”   

his smile grows. "anytime." yukhei leans back forward. his hands rises, caressing your cheeks softly. yukhei kisses you half a dozen times before he parts from you. “and i love you more.” 

you chew on the inside of your cheeks momentarily and bring your arms down. you give him a gentle pat on his chest. “let me know when you get back, okay?”

he nods. “and let me know if you need doctor wong, okay?” his words draw an airy chuckle from you. “remember to take a break when you need it and get as much sleep as you can. text or call me if you need some of my energy,” he says with a quiet laugh. “i'm proud of you, babe.”  

you hum softly. “right back at you, baby,” you murmur. one last pat to his chest, you move away from him and hand him the buns to take. “now go impress the world with your talent.” 

a hand of his holds onto the food while the other fall back to his side. yukhei takes a step back. immediately you wrap your arms around yourself again and sniffle the slightest. another step he takes. the door handle he finds and pushes down. yukhei gives you one more look with eyes shining like stars and smile bright like the sun. 

“i’ll see if i can pull another photocard for you if we do another unboxing,” he teases.

you laugh. “then i’ll have a collection, babe.”   

with a giggle, yukhei opens the door. you take a step forward and hold onto the door behind him. he turns around and leans in for another kiss. it's tender and sweet. “don’t miss me too much,” he murmurs with a boyish beam ghosting his face.

your nose wrinkles. the corners of your mouth twitch upwards. “i won’t.” 

one last pucker of his mouth to your lips, the tip of your nose and finally to your forehead, yukhei twists around and leaves. the door is close after him. the sudden difference in the atmosphere you feel. you make a quick dab at your eyes and go to the kitchen. the clean up is waiting for you. the refrigerator and cabinets need to be filled and stocked. the gym is calling your name.

the day ahead you still have. the several weeks ahead before he comes home you still have. 

and regardless of what you tell him, you miss him like he misses you. 

when the sun is shining, time is found between promotions and performances and meetings and planning for messages. yukhei makes sure you’re okay and sends you encouragements. you tell him you’re proud of him and send him praises. but once the days are over for you and him and the moon and stars come out to play, it’s video calls instead of messages. the picture of you and him yukhei keeps besides his bed isn’t enough when all he wants to do is feel you beside him. you in turn rather hear his words in his voice instead of just reading them. 

so the door to the shared bedroom closes and yukhei is given the privacy without hesitation. the words that are shared in the day turn sweeter in the night because he makes sure you hear all he wants to say to you. then before good nights are murmured and wishes for sweet dreams are whispered, you and him feel the thumps of your hearts for each other and cross out another day in your calendars. 

distance makes the heart grow fonder and reunions even better.

and this continues until it’s friday evening weeks later. 

the sun sets earlier and earlier. winter is going to come soon. promotions have officially ended with the last performance this afternoon. yukhei steps out of the elevator into the familiar hallway for the first time since your birthday. but this time he doesn’t have a cake in his hands. there aren’t a dozen balloons above his head. this time, only excitement bubbles inside of him like it’s the day before summer vacation. except home is where he will be going. with just mostly practices and a few filmings for content and recordings for the end of the year, the schedule yukhei has will allow him to get back to you every night. 

the walk from the elevator to his favorite door ends. 

home.

the familiar code he punches in. the beep sounds. the door is pushed opened and yukhei steps in with a grin.

“babe, i’m home!”

his voice, loud and strong follows with a light giggle because he can’t help himself. it feels good to be home. it feels good to say those words. the door yukhei closes, waiting for your response because he knows you are awake this time. he had just spoken to you minutes ago. he toes off his sneakers and slides his feet into his slippers. and when yukhei opens his mouth, ready to call your name, you appear. 

how happy he is to be home you are equally as happy because you jump on him. you hug him so tight and turn your head, wanting to pucker countless kisses to his cheek. but yukhei turns his head instead. his eyes catch your loving gaze and for a short moment the world pauses. 

home.

then lips connect for the first time in too long. it is a little messy and a lot passionate. noses are crushed. his tongue grazes your teeth and runs over your lips. the way you suckle on his lower lip makes him groan. the undeniable feelings of how much you and him have truly missed one another is unmistakable. he pulls away first with his heart beating rapidly. your slippered feet touch the floor again. yukhei presses his forehead to yours, watching the twinkle in your gaze while you try to catch your breath. 

“babe, i’m home.” 

and this time, yukhei whispers it like it’s a secret and only for your ears. you let out a breathless giggle. your hands come forward to cup his face and your wet lips form a soft grin. “hi. i just-”

but that is all you manage to say before yukhei begins to bestow your smiling mouth with sweet pecks. his strong arms remain around your waist as you begin to take tiny steps backwards. in between the giggles and how he leans into you, you hope you don’t fall but fully knowing he will not ever let you. 

a gentle squeeze you give his face when you make it to the living room. yukhei finally lifts back beaming like the sun. you get a good look at him. there's a light shimmery look over his eyelids and a sweep of bronze eyeshadow. a strand of his styled hair falls in a perfect comma in front of his forehead. he stands up straighter then, his hold of you loosening for you to stand up properly too before he finds your hand to clasp around. yukhei breathes in slowly and lets it out with a satisfied sigh. 

this feels good. he feels great.  

you’re about to ask him if he has eaten yet, but the opened books and computer and the almost finished yogurt bowl yukhei notices on your desk. he turns to look at you. there’s the slightest pout appearing on his face. 

“are you working right now?” he reaches for the strap of his bag across his chest and lifts if over his head. he takes a few steps over to the coffee table and you follow behind him. the bag he sets on the coffee table. 

you hum, shaking your head at him. “i got a lot of the work done when i got home. i was just finishing up an email when you walk through the door. but i can wait to finish the rest later,” you reassure him. you let go of his hand for him to unzip the soft faux fur fuzzy black bomber jacket he is wearing. yukhei throws it on the couch. he will hang it up later. he will put away his bag later. 

his gaze finds yours as a smile gradually forms on his face. “are you sure?” he asks carefully because as much as he wants you all to himself right now, your work is important too.

you nod. “promise. if i remember correctly, i was told to take breaks if i needed them.” yukhei brings an arm up around you and settles a hand on your shoulder. you lean into him and he can’t hide his wide grin despite puckering his mouth onto your forehead. “and i think right now is a perfect time for a break.” the teasing sparkle he sees in your eyes once he shifts back. “you have any idea how i can spend this little break of mine?” you question innocently even if you have something in mind. 

immediately yukhei laughs, pretending to think really hard for a long moment before fully turning to face you. “hmm, just one.”

“yeah? and what would that be, baby?” you quip lowly.

yukhei leans into you, his lips rest beside your ear. “one that involves just you and me.” his voice deep and his tone is devilish.  

his eyes find yours again and before you know it, closer and closer yukhei tilts forward. laughter slips from your mouth when his lips connect to yours once more. his arms encircles you again. this time his hands slip under his hoodie you are wearing. you clutch onto the soft material of his sweatshirt as hungry kisses are shared. yukhei nudges at you for steps to be taken carefully towards the bedroom. the light switch he flicks on when your bodies pass through the doorway. the edge of the bed frame hits the back of your leg and in seconds, you fall back onto the bed with sweet giggles and yukhei on top of you. 

he makes no movement of giving you space, finding absolute satisfaction of laying on top of you. the smile you give him illuminates your entire face and his entire world. your slippers slowly fall off your feet and you bring your legs up to cross them behind his jean clad thighs. within moments, yukhei chuckles. 

you want him as close as he wants you as close. 

your hand comes up to caress his warm cheek. “you didn’t wipe off your makeup again,” you note quietly with a smile, twirling the comma strand of hair. 

yukhei buries his face into you to hide his bashful smile. you feel the gentle brushes of his fingertips on your waist underneath the hoodie. “i just wanted to get back here,” he whispers into your skin. yukhei lifts his head and looks at you with a twinkle in his eyes. “besides, i have my personal makeup remover,” he reminds you with a beam.

your eyebrows rise with a giggle. you have almost forgotten about it. “so i got the job then?” you whisper jokingly.

but yukhei shakes his head with soft laughter. he lets out a loud playful sad sigh. "manager said i’ll never be able to focus on anything. he says i’ll be just staring at you all distracted.” the conversation with his manager he still recalls. the pointed look of ‘you got it so bad’ yukhei had received when he had jokingly mentioned the job. 

you’re chuckling at the faint pout that comes out briefly before he breaks out in another grin because he remembers the conversation after too. “and he told me to tell you you’re welcome and that…” he kisses you softly on the lips with a cute wrinkle of his nose. “that he’s not whipped for me and that he’s not supposed to play favorites,” he says with a wink and a giggle.

instantly you laugh. the sound so infectious and so much better than hearing it through phone calls or video chats yukhei deems. you give his smiling face a playful squish and once your laughter quiets, you brush you mouth onto the boyish curve on his face. “you’re my favorite, did you know that?” you murmur alongside his mouth.

yukhei chuckles, the corners of his eyes crinkling. “really? that’s good to know because you’re my favorite, too.” 

you squee quietly, wrapping your arms around his broad shoulders. yukhei bends down and kisses you half a dozen times. when he parts from you, you whimper softly. you stroke his cheek with the back of your fingers. he rests his forehead on yours and takes a slow deep breath. 

“so you want me to wipe that makeup off of you now? even i quite like it on you,” you tell him with a teasing smile.

the tip of his nose touches yours as he laughs. yukhei shakes his head though and then he shifts the slightest. your legs around him loosen enough for him to roll off of you. immediately he slithers an arm under you and pulls you to him for your head to rest next to his. you snuggle into him, throwing a leg over his thigh. his long legs are still off the bed with his feet just a few inches off the wooden floors. yukhei turns to face you while his other hand covers your hand that lays on his chest over his beating heart.    

he hums. “maybe later.” 

eventually he will have to get up. he will have to clean everything off so his skin can breathe. he will have to put away his jacket and bag too. and later too, you and him can order something to eat because he is certain you and him will be hungry. 

but just not now.

“and why later?” you question amused. 

yukhei tips his head a little forward until lips are a few centimeters apart. his wide loving eyes take in the sight of your sweet and pretty smile and the gleam in your soft gaze on him. his fingers curl over your hand. 

“because for the next five minutes before i take advantage of this little break of yours…” 

the corners of his lips twitch up almost shamelessly. a happy chuckle rolls pass your mouth. a proper reunion will take place last time. 

“i just want to hold you. i just want to look you…” yukhei murmurs almost shyly. the distance between your mouth he erases. a gentle and affectionate pucker of his mouth he presses to yours once, twice and then a third time. when yukhei moves back, that sweet and pretty smile of yours has broaden. “and i just want to kiss you because i’ve really, really missed you.”

the warmth blooms in your chest. your bottom lip catches between your teeth. 

he faintly grins. “is that okay with you, baby?” . 

your cheeks heat. your other hand rises and your fingertips graze his skin. the quiet soft sound of approval and content you hear from him with your touches. 

“yeah, that’s more than okay.” you whisper. 

then in seconds you lean into him again, connecting your beaming lips to his for more soft kisses because kissing him can never be too much or enough. yukhei presses your body closer to his. there’s a fluttering that fills your stomach. you shift a few inches to see him clearly. your eyes form pretty crescents with your grin and the curve on his face is heartwarming and beautiful with the faintest indentation of his dimple appearing. your hand drops and you hug him close and tight like how he does to you. 

for a moment, it’s silent. the world seems to stop. the makeup removing will wait. so will your work. and after this little break, dinner can be figured out later.

yukhei buries his face into the crook of your neck. 

until then, it's just you and him like this.

and it feels wonderful.

he presses a handful of little kisses to your skin. you hear the deep breath he takes. the scent of vanilla filters up his senses. he sighs happily.

“hey, yukhei?” 

your soft spoken words break the silence. yukhei calmly hums and you tilt your head back. he looks so relaxed. eyes are filled with nothing but love for one another. yet in your gaze flickers the playfulness he can’t miss.

“did you ever pull another one of your photocards?” you tease.     

it takes just seconds for a smile brighter than the sun to appear on his face. yukhei rolls over onto you again, peppering wet kisses on your face. your squeals and giggles mix together with his deep laughter. hearts are full. the seams are about to burst. 

everything is good. 

you are happy. he is happy.   

nothing else matters.

[honestsycrets]

Love in a Cup | Floki x Reader

❛ pairing | Floki the Boatbuilder x Autistic!Reader, Floki x Helga. light!Ragnar x Reader

❛ type | one... shot?

❛ summary | Aslaug gives you a cup to give Floki: but your morals keep you from delivering. Tricky things, they are.

❛  warnings | Non-Autistic writer, first time writing autism, first gen vikings, love potions, light physical abuse, one-sided love, sister wives, jealousy, ragnar’s feely hands, trickery, mention of witchcraft, witch!aslaug (but good witch!), semi-mean reader, doesn’t follow Hirst’s specific timeline.

❛  sy’s notes | gif to ofmanderley (really in love with their work). not that happy with this piece but i’m exhausted with it.

Floki was her world. 

When she breathed, when she slept, it was as if she was symbiotic with his presence. Whatever Floki threw at her: insulting a suitor or murdering someone close. That was why, for the longest time, you repressed all thoughts of him when you were with Siggy, Helga, and Aslaug. You were the only one of the four and the youngest who had not married. It did not bother you. It gave you time to play with Ragnar’s youngest boys as a maiden who lived in the Great Hall. 

You whirled to the strumming of the oud. Sigurd mimicked the swirl of your hips and twirl of your wrists. Every once in a while, you tumbled over the little boy. As hard as you worked at dancing, the balance between strength and balance didn’t always add up. 

In the corner of your eye, Floki stood watching. His unapologetic smile, lips wrapped around the rim of his cup, gave you encouragement. He was watching-- with Ragnar by his side whose thumbs were hooked tightly in the belt looped around his waist. 

It was only when the music abated that you heard your name traveling like a howl on the oud’s notes. You tumbled out of a spin and dipped down to pick up the little boy. He was the one place where you felt free. That space where the music met the song. His bouncy golden hair was slick with moisture. 

“Yes?” 

Aslaug crossed the dark planks with a drink between her fingertips. You noticed her fingers twiddling along the surface. She looped her hand through your arm and began to walk with you despite the warriors’ complaints.

“Floki was watching,” she whispered. You couldn’t help sneak a slight glance at the man, whose blackened fingertips waved at you in succession, wild like the unpredictable ocean beating the sandy floor. She speaks again. “Why don’t you give him this?”

You handed over Sigurd to a slave and took the cup from her fingers, turning your back toward Floki. Your fingers grazed around the lip of the cup, drawing repeated circles. “What is it?” 

“A drink.” 

A drink, you soothed yourself by repeating it again and again. “But what else?” 

“Do you trust me?” 

Of course, you did. Perhaps Aslaug made some bad decisions, selfish ones, but you never doubted her love for you. You wrapped your hand around the bone cup and gazed into the surface of the mead. It glimmered with a golden sheen. It was no ordinary cup. 

“I-- I think so. But why?”

You turned over your shoulder where Floki was. His fingers rolled in Bjorn’s face and told him some raunchy joke. He laughed wickedly as Bjorn’s cheeks pinked. Ragnar must have run off with Athelstan outside for some privacy. Aslaug prompted your name again. Her palm settled on your golden shoulder. 

“Married men are always the hardest to catch,” Aslaug slid past you. “But not impossible.”

You glanced down to the golden cup and dipped your fingers in the gilded liquid. It coated your fingers like molten gold. It affirmed that whatever she gave you, it wasn’t mead. Or at least, not mead alone. It’s tainted in some way. When you turned up your head again, Floki’s lips were by Helga’s ear. He held her with warm consideration, rubbing her distended but empty belly. Light dances along the surface of her eyes. Everything pumps with a distinct, obnoxious loudness. You shake your other hand free of anxiety and turn toward the door.

It’s time to go.

You pushed through crowds of drunken couples, men with grabby hands, and women who laughed with the purest joy. You breached the doorway. Cool air bit your cheeks. Although winter was on its way out, you felt its touch nipping your cheeks.

You reclined against the wooden longhouse with a cup of mead charmed with love’s fleeting kiss. It wasn’t as if you were unfamiliar with spells. You made simple ones as a healer: mending Torstein’s arm was nothing short of the touch of Eir. Besides: if Aslaug made it, you decided, it had to be a love potion. 

Freyja, you thought, what next? You should spill it on the ground, let it dry and return to the love of the earth. But then what would happen if someone else came upon it as it dried? Would they use it for their own devices? Steal the heart of someone just like Helga: sweet, unsuspecting, and perfect? No. You would go the beach and dump it into the depths of Kattegat’s deep lake. 

“Look at you, moping all alone.” 

Light filtered out from the double doors of Ragnar’s mead hall. Floki bounced out and came to a stop in front of you. His hand rested on the head of his axe. You become suddenly aware of how this might look. A lone woman standing outside, lamenting your sorrows to Hati as the moon shone dolefully above. Floki comes closer.

“Ah--” you pursed your lips. “There are men standing guard.”

“They are still men,” Floki chirped. “They’ll do what suits them.” 

“Hm,” you nodded through his assertion. “And Helga?” 

“What about her?” There’s a pause before Floki reached for your cup. He loosened your fingers around the horn cup and brought it to his nose. He knew what it is, too. His tone darkens, playfulness undercut by a sharpness in his eye. “A tonic. A love tonic. What poor fool were you trying to trick with this?” 

“Floki,” you struggled to meet his eyes. Not that you could on regular days, but flicking your hands free of the animals crawling underneath your skin, you hoped that he would listen for once in his short life. “Go away.” 

“No. Why would I? I’ve been waiting to see something like this,” words pushed past his lips. “You are always so stiflingly good. No one is truly that good at heart. Who was it for?” 

You said nothing. Not with guards watching weird and weirder speaking alone: not forgetting that Floki was indeed a married man and you were a single woman living under Ragnar’s protection. Or, under Aslaug’s. 

“No?” Floki tilted his wrist and swirled the liquid around. He brought the cup to his lips and threw his head back to drink the potion. Your hand lurched to catch his gloved hand, squawking in desperation. 

“Athelstan!” you lie. “It was for Athelstan!”  

He ignored you and downed the drink in no more than three large gulps. Shame flooded your stomach when he pulled the cup away. You whirled away from him. 

“You liar.” Floki chucked the cup to the side. It clattered and rolled. In a last-ditch effort to protect what was, you snapped your hands to your eyes. If he couldn’t look you in the eye, you tell yourself, Aslaug’s potion wouldn’t take. Besides; why would you want to look into his silvery-blue eyes? They would be like Níðhöggr’s eyes-- when he tore you alive for tearing Floki from Helga.

“I wasn’t lying,” you murmured into your hands. Your cheeks were hot, but the tears soaking your fingertips remained as a constant reminder of the truth. “It’s the truth. Now go away, don’t look at me! You’re Helga’s!”

“What are you talking about?” Floki seized your forearms. 

“Go away!” 

As willowy and thin as he is, you expected him to be weaker than he was. He forced your fingertips from your eyes. You looked anywhere but his eyes: the make-up down his slender cheeks, his warm brown beard, or straight past him. For a moment, you try. But you’re locked with the reality of Floki’s impassioned stare. He met your gaze boredly.

“It… didn’t work?” 

“Not on me.” Floki hummed. “I thought you knew that.” 

“I told you. It wasn’t for you,” you bit out. “I didn’t even make it.” 

“What a lie.” 

“I hate you.” 

“An even worse lie.” Floki stands there otherwise unaffected, giggling at your deemed stupidity. He stood like the idiot, not you-- he laughed at your discomfort. 

“If you didn’t ruin it, maybe I would have given it to him!” 

“Go ahead, make him another.” he twiddled his fingers in your face, voice rising. “He won’t want you. All he wants to kiss his cross.” 

With that inflammatory answer, you lashed out. You did the only thing you could think to do: Thwacking him on the side of his gaunt jaw. His jaw gave a click as you pushed out from under him, biting back the tears welling up in your eyes. 

“I hate you, Floki.” 

He isn’t the type to chase and luckily, you’re not the type to apologize. You whirled the door open, bumping into Helga whose sweet smile felt like a hundred fallen suns. It’s too warm for what, inevitably, Floki will tell her. Tomorrow she will hate you. 

She called your name. You brushed past her for your warm bed in the Great Hall. Its woolen sheets felt prickly under your back. As the night progressed and the loud voices became soft whispers, you heard Helga’s soft voice like the scurry of the housecat that sat between your numb legs. Everything had gone numb. 

“Can I see her?” she asked. 

You closed your eyes. If you were a better communicator, maybe you would have told Aslaug to tell her no. But lo, you did not, and Aslaug agreed in turn. You forced your eyes shut and awaited a lashing out. If you were asleep-- maybe she’d go away. Save your beating for tomorrow. She kneels before you. You feel her warmth, her willowy hands grasping yours, willing you to open your eyes. You press them together harder, if possible. 

“If he loved you, it would be okay,” she cooed awful acceptance. Over and over. A wretched chant from the perfect woman. “You could come home.” 

As time passed and the drunks are collected, she took her drunk from the Great Hall too. You were left staring at the cat between your legs and the dread in your belly. 

She’s too good for you.

Helga doesn’t hate you the next day. 

Not that you expected her to. Her soft eyes were all the familiar, soft, and loving that any man or woman could need. Instead she told you, with pitiful sweetness, that you were welcome to marry Floki. Imagine your discomfort when you recounted the fight-- and the source of the welt across Floki’s pale skin.

Aslaug bid her time like a patient goddess, mindfully telling you that it wasn’t all for not. Whatever that meant. At the end of the next day, you sat nursing your aching heart with an ale that you usually took to ease pounding headaches when the light came in too strong. If only you could tear your heart out and pin it up in the stars. Then you would be happy. 

Alcohol made your fingertips tingle. Or maybe it was the soft fur of Aslaug’s marital house cat that made your fingers tingle. One or the other. At some point, you felt Ragnar slip in beside you. Whether it was the weighty scent of his sweat or his large palm that cupped the bottom of your back, inching like a worm to squeeze your ass, you weren’t sure. You squeezed the cat in your lap like a hunk of bread. 

“Don’t look now,” Ragnar hummed, flowing into your belly with warm affection. The man was like an older brother. One you didn’t question: just listened to. “But Floki is watching.” 

“But why?” 

Unlike Aslaug, Ragnar’s words were always followed by certainty. So despite his hand caressing your ass and the kitten kneading into your thighs, you turned your head into the side of his neck. Athelstan swung his leg over the other side of you like a second shadow. His patient smile another reassurance. Still, your hand shook in anticipation over the cat. 

“I think he’s jealous.” Athelstan chimed in. 

Heavy footfalls alerted you to the fact that Floki was quickly advancing. Unlike his patience with Ragnar, he shoved Athelstan unceremoniously to the side of a quickly overcrowding bench. Your sweet kitten bounced laps to the wooden floorboards. 

“What are you doing, Ragnar?” he asked Ragnar. With a sassy flick of his fingers, Ragnar’s hand fell away from your ass. He reached for a hunk of your meat, sliding it into his mouth with a less than a ceremonious smile. 

“You were watching.” 

Floki bristled. You turned toward him. Perhaps he could fool others with that tightly-knit jaw or the wildness of his eyes, but not you. You knew Floki too well for that. Your handset on his scrawny thigh. 

“Of course I was watching. You brought that priest--!” he hissed, glaring Athelstan off of the bench. Somethings the priest might have held his ground and accepted Floki’s typical beratement. Not this one. “To force her into warming his dick.” 

Ragnar swallowed his hunk of meat, wiping his fingers against one another. Just when you think he is about to say something, Floki goes on. “If you want to poison your mind with a Christian, fine,” Floki pressed. “But don’t sully hers too.” 

“Floki,” you dared. “Isn’t that a choice I should make?” 

Like a snake, his dark eyes flickered back on you. Something wasn’t right there, you decided. You pushed him from a state of indignation to one of range. He snatched your shoulders in his large willowy hands. Ragnar flicked the remaining bit of meat and leapt out from the table to Athelstan. 

“What does that mean?” he quipped, voice raising into a shout. “Were you planning on fucking him? Were you?”

You could have quipped back something mean. Perhaps, better luck next time? It lingers on your tongue a moment but seized by the panic that rides in Floki’s voice, you simply slumped forward with the stress. Your cheek connected with the exposed hairs poking from his tunic. 

“You are so stupid. I hate you.” 

His hand hovered in the air. Then, twirling down, he drew his hand through your hair with a suppressed sigh blossoming from his chest. He reached for your cup of alcohol. “What kind of answer is that?” 

“It’s a no, Floki. A no.”

He giggled. The warmth of his bouncing chest warms you somehow. Although you know that he’s going to put you through hell, you glanced up at him. His scrawny finger drew a line under your chin before he’d squeeze it for emphasis. He parts his lips to speak. You beat him there. 

“Yes, Floki-- it was for you.” 

I knew it! He bellowed out amidst full blown cackles. You sigh through them because of course-- he would have to show off in these little victories. The knowledge that the cup was for him or your affections-- as he perceived them-- were all his. 

He reached out to lift you from the table, spinning his jaunty feet over the floor. He’s more than your boatbuilder. More than a Viking. More than a man. He’s your Floki. You know he wouldn’t let you fall to the floor with even drunken, flowy step to the door because after all, Floki was the one who taught you what it meant to dance.

“Let’s go home. I want to see you dance.”  

@tephi101 @alicedopey @supernaturalvikingwhore @tootie-fruity @titty-teetee @queen-see-ya-in-valhalla @ethereallysimple @deathbyarabbit​ @deathbyarabbit @readsalot73 @natalie-rdr @lol-haha-joke @lisinfleur​ @hissouthernprincess @marvelousse​ @dangerous-like-a-loaded-pistol @vikingsmania @wish-i-was-a-mermaid @lif3snotouttogetyou @gruffle1​ @cris101071 @gold-dragon-slayer @babypink224221 @wonderwoman292 @naaladareia​ @beyond-the-ashes @generic-fangirl @chinduda @laketaj24, @peaceisadirtyword, @ly–canthrope @cris101071 @daughterofthenight117 @unassumingviking @ladyofsoa, @inforapound @winchesterwife27 @feyrearcheron44@readsalot73 @squirrelacorngliterfarts @gold-dragon-slayer @medievalfangirl @sallydelys  @bluearchersstuff @affectionrabbitt @whatamood13 @notyouraveragegirl17 @igetcarriedawaywithyou @unacceptabletatertots @ivarandersen @stra-vage @tgrrose @cookies186 @learninglemni-blog @theleeshanotlouise @soiproclaim​ @msmorganforever @destynelseclipsa​ @soleil-dor​ @strangunddurm​ @superwolfchild-fan @willbilliamson  @deans-ch-ch-cherrypie

[pellucidity-is-me]

Poppy Pomfrey Hates Werewolves

Summary: The year is 1971, and Madam Pomfrey is finding it more difficult than expected to care for an eleven-year-old werewolf student. She turns to a late-night conversation with Minerva McGonagall in order to soothe her frustrations.

Wordcount: 3843

Poppy Pomfrey hated werewolves.

No, that wasn't the right wording. Poppy loved Remus very much; she thought that he was a clever, lovable boy who deserved to be at Hogwarts more than some of the other ridiculous buffoons (ahem: Potter and Black).

In fact, the Lupins in general were lovely people. Poppy remembered Remus' father, Lyall Lupin, from her first year at Hogwarts—he’d been six years older than she was and in a different House, so they hadn't been close. Yet she did remember that Lyall was a lot like Remus in the sense that he'd received very good marks and was usually quiet and mild-mannered. But his temper! Arguments with Lyall were bound to lead to a fight—either the Muggle way or the wizarding way; Lyall was willing to participate in either. Poppy saw Lyall in Remus often, even though she hadn't known Lyall very well. They looked alike, yes, but there was also something deeper. Both had odd interests and were a bit eccentric. Both were clever. Both had an unexpectedly honed sense of humor. And both (as Poppy knew from some of Hope's letters) were very prone to guilt.

Hope was Remus' mother, and Poppy liked her just as much as she liked Remus. She was a wonderful mother and a lot of fun. A stereotypical doting mother, really. Hope, like Lyall and Remus, was very funny, and Poppy often found herself laughing out loud at her letters. Poppy probably learned much more about young Remus than Remus would have been comfortable with, but Hope just couldn't help oversharing. Poppy suspected that she'd never before had anyone to talk to about Remus without fear of his lycanthropy getting out. Poppy liked Hope so much, in fact, that they had plans to meet during Christmas holidays. Poppy could see the two of them becoming very good friends.

Yes, Poppy was fond of Remus, as well as both of his parents. But she hated werewolves.

Not werewolves. Not really. Poppy hated lycanthropy. Poppy hated the fact that Remus had to go through unimaginable pain every single month. And he was so young! Four years old, that's how old he had been. It made Poppy feel ill sometimes, and it was the type of illness that even she—the most experienced school matron in the world, probably—could not cure.

It had gone relatively well for the first couple of months—well, not well, per se, but they’d survived. At least Remus had always been conscious and somewhat coherent afterwards. Remus had a habit of making jokes when he was uncomfortable, and it always made it easier to stop feeling so horrible when he was making the odd sarcastic comment. But the first December full moon was far worse than usual. 

When Poppy crawled through the tunnel the morning after the December full moon and saw Remus, unconscious on the floor and bleeding out, she nearly vomited. She wasn't ready for this! She couldn’t! She’d never had to do anything like this before, and this was absolutely terrible. He shouldn’t have to deal with that every month. She shouldn’t have to deal with this every month. 

How dare Dumbledore ask her to help him? She was only human. She couldn't see this, month after month and day after day. Such a young student. So small and thin and delicate. This was horrible for her, too!

And no one even asked her! It wasn't as if Dumbledore had said "Good morning, Poppy, would you be willing to care for a werewolf in September 1971?" No, he had flat-out told her that there was nothing she could do about it. She still remembered his exact words. A very special student... infected with lycanthropy... deserves a chance to learn, as all children do... Poppy will be caring for him after full moons... Don't try to protest his coming here, I have made my decision. Ridiculous. The man never asked anyone else's opinion. 

Poppy wouldn't have protested, though, and she felt even worse when she realized what she was insinuating. Remus, stay home and never come to Hogwarts? That wouldn't stop the transformations; that would only make them worse. Besides, having to see it was nothing compared to actually going through it... But still. It was so hard to think of it all—so difficult to be given a burden that no one, be it child or school matron, should have to carry.

Poppy was used to being able to help people. That was her job. She loved helping people. But there was no cure for lycanthropy, and it was far beyond Poppy’s abilities to comprehend, even, how terrible it must be for the eleven-year-old child... for a five-year-old child. Remus had endured countless full moons, and each one left him with injuries worse than some of the worst accidents that Poppy had ever seen. It made her sick.

Regardless of her feelings, though, Poppy now stood in the Shrieking Shack. Her wand was dangling limply from her hand as she stared at the deep gashes in the wall and the equally limp boy on the floor who had somehow—somehow—made them.

She couldn't help it at that point. She left. She couldn't look at him any longer; it was driving her mad.

She'd always thought magic to be a wonderful thing: capable of healing and helping and loving. But it wasn't. Magic wasn't all good at all. Here was the darker side—the horrific, awful, terrifying side that left eleven-year-old children so ill that they couldn't eat, turned them into horrifying beasts against their will, and then left them bruised and broken on the floors of their own torture chambers. Why did she even try? She couldn't change anything. She'd never help Remus Lupin, no matter how much time she spent soothing his worries and healing his injuries. He'd always have to go through this. There was no cure, and Poppy felt helpless. She hadn't felt this awful since she'd failed that student who spent half a year as a rock.

She’d only meant to leave for a bit (she needed more potions for Remus, anyhow, and she also needed a bit of air. Remus would be fine). But then she came across a panicking Slughorn who professed that a girl had drank too much of a potentially deadly potion and needed to be taken to St. Mungo’s. The girl’s parents weren’t available. Someone would have to take her.

When Professor John Questus, current Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, offered to stay and look after Remus, Poppy couldn’t help but seize the opportunity to take a breather.

So she took the girl to St. Mungo’s herself and left Remus with the Defense professor. She needed some time away—some time to think things over. She knew that it was probably the better option to stay with Remus, but she couldn't. She couldn't help popping in every few hours over Floo to make sure that Remus had not died due to her negligence—but she stayed away, for the most part. And she talked to Remus' toad that had crept into her apron. He really was good conversation, even if he was slimy-looking and warty.

"What was your name? Bufo?"

Bufo blinked.

"Do you think I've failed?"

Bufo cocked his gross little head.

"People trusted me, and I just left. That's unacceptable."

Bufo croaked.

"I'm a terrible matron." Poppy felt tears well up in her eyes. She'd left Remus to John Questus. John Questus! He was probably asking Remus all sorts of uncomfortable questions and snapping at him for being too emotional when Remus needed love and comfort and care. Because that was what John Questus did. As a former Auror, he knew Healing magic, to be sure... but he just wasn’t the type of person to care for a scared child. 

Remus was injured, and Poppy had left him—left him!—all alone on the floor of the Shrieking Shack—the Shrieking Shack!—with no one to help him. What if he had woken up all alone and scared and in pain and waited, but no one came, and then the most horribly unsympathetic professor at Hogwarts showed up and told him that Poppy had left! Just left! Poppy didn't want to think of how awful Remus, who already mistakenly assumed that most everyone hated him, might have felt.

Suddenly, she felt a small weight on her shoulder. She opened her eyes and saw Bufo snuggling against her neck. Poppy sniffed and patted his leathery skin a bit—he wasn't so bad, after all.

And Remus seemed mostly okay when she'd returned to Hogwarts. John had missed one of his wounds, and it ended up becoming terribly infected. Poppy was angry with John at first, but it didn't take long before she realized that it was her fault. The man wasn't an experienced Healer, after all, even though he did know a bit of Healing magic. Remus was her job, and she'd abandoned him just because she was feeling emotional.

Now it was Tuesday, and Poppy was certain that Remus would sleep through the night. He was looking so much better, and Poppy had no doubt that he would be all right upon going back to classes on Wednesday. Even his arm was healing up, and he'd managed to walk around the Hospital Wing the other day without any problems—he even took a bath all by himself. So she left him in her office (under the watchful eyes of Bufo), and went to talk to Minerva McGonagall.

Minerva and Poppy had been in the same year at Hogwarts and had been acquaintances (despite the fact that they were in different Houses). Since Minerva had already been teaching when Poppy had become the matron, they'd only gotten closer. Poppy would consider Minerva to be her closest friend, even—they certainly saw a lot of each other. They'd been colleagues for about twenty years now. It was mad, how quickly the time flew.

Poppy knew that Minerva was uncomfortable around Remus (she never liked werewolves much), but it was clear that she was trying—Poppy appreciated that. And Remus seemed to enjoy Minerva's company (but then again, he seemed to enjoy everybody's company. Even John Questus', for some reason). Poppy had never spoken to Minerva about Remus one-on-one (though she tended to chatter about him during staff meetings), but she was sure that Minerva wouldn't mind.

She knocked on Minerva's door, and Minerva let her in with a smile. "Poppy. May I help you?"

"I... only need to talk." Poppy often came to Minerva to chat; despite Poppy's no-nonsense exterior and usually-immaculate bedside manner, she was frightfully emotional. Anyone who told the students that, though, would be getting a rather nasty hex that Madam Pomfrey "wouldn't be able to heal".

"Of course," said Minerva. "Come in; I'll make tea."

"Are you sure? It's late, and I don't want to keep you up."

"I'm sure. I was having trouble sleeping, anyway."

"Yes, I noticed that your hair is still up."

Minerva smiled and undid her bun. "It's been a long day. Do you know, Potter and Black still insist on calling me by my first name? Those insolent, disrespectful..."

"I can't believe that Remus is friends with them."

"Is this about Remus, then?" said Minerva, nearly laughing. "You have that same look on your face whenever you talk about him during the staff meetings."

Poppy rearranged her face. "Look? What kind of look?"

"You worry about him. Understandably so, of course."

"Yes, yes." Minerva offered Poppy a teacup, and she took it gratefully. "I just... I can't. Minerva, it's awful!"

Minerva sat back patiently with her own cup of tea, not even batting an eye. "Yes, I know."

It all came spilling out at once. "I've done research! We all have! Did you read the article in the paper? The Shrieking Shack, they call it. Shrieking? Wolves don't shriek, Minerva—people do! It's painful; it's hurting him! And his pain threshold is so incredibly high that I... I can't even... I can't even imagine how bad it is, to make him hurt enough to actually cry out. He's so thin and sickly and pale all the time, and he's so small and delicate for his age, and he... I can't get over his pain threshold! He doesn't even flinch when I heal a broken bone, Minerva. Doesn't even flinch. He walks all the way back to the castle, month after month, with worse injuries than... than anything, really.

"And he just has to live with it—wounds all over his body all the time, can't even heal up completely before the next full moon rolls around, can't eat properly on the day before, can't even attend class because he's feeling so sickly. He gets through injuries that would cripple a grown man... and complains less than a miffed Gryffindor when Slytherin wins the House Cup! And he has to live with it! All the time!"

Minerva looked appropriately saddened and kept listening silently. She was good at that.

"He was four, he told me. Four, nearly five. He was attacked by a fully-fledged werewolf—and he let slip that said werewolf attacked him on purpose!—when he was a little more than a toddler. I've seen the scar, and I know enough about injuries to know that it must have been life-threatening. And most of it is on his shoulder, just near his neck! Just... can you imagine? Being a four-year-old child and a werewolf biting you—only inches away from snapping your neck... and then living as one? He's traumatized! He has nightmares, Minerva! Still! After six years, and he flinches whenever I get close."

Minerva pursed her lips and refilled Poppy's tea, which she had spilled all over her lap. Poppy didn't even care at this point.

"I hate it. I hate it. I hate coming to the Shack and seeing him half-dead. I hate his complacent expression, like he's been through it many before... because he has! He has! It's... what, eighty times now? I don't know! And he probably doesn't even keep track, because it's such a normal thing now! That sort of thing should never be normal! And not for a child, especially. A child! Eleven, but he looks so much older—he's so much more mature than he should be—he's seen more than children should, been through more than I have! Merlin's beard. Sometimes I want him to yell at me and get angry over it all, because he never really has. Cool as a cucumber about the whole thing. He's FINE, he says!"

Tears were running down Poppy's face now, but she made no attempt to stop them. Minerva had seen her cry many, many times before. In fact, she'd cried most recently when she'd lost her favorite pair of slippers. It was hard, keeping it in all day for fear of frightening the students.

"And no one ever asks me how hard it is. No one ever talks about me. Plenty of people say "poor Remus", and goodness knows he deserves it, even if he doesn't want it. But no one even thinks about how hard it is for me—to help a child—with an incurable illness—that I can't do anything about! To watch him fight through unimaginable pain, to see him suffering, to watch him get feverish and pass out in the middle of a sentence and refuse to eat and drown his pain in books! He's just... in my office... for days, every single month... and I just have to go about my business, knowing that there's nothing I can do. There's no cure! He won't even let me help him before a full moon because potions and things irritate him on the full moon. There's nothing I can do! Think about it! I can't get over it!"

Minerva wordlessly handed Poppy a handkerchief, and Poppy blew her nose. "It's not just about him," Poppy said, calming down a little. "It's not just about me, either. It's just... it's something that made me realize how much darkness is in the world... how unfair things are... how people can suffer so much without deserving it. I knew, before. But I didn't really believe it... and now it's just all so overwhelming. There are so many hurting people in the world. Remus isn't even the only werewolf in Britain. And I can't help everyone. I'm confined to this school—this small school in a world full of billions of people—and I can't... even... help everyone... in the tiny school! I hate it."

Minerva spoke for the first time. "I know," she said, and stood up to embrace Poppy tightly. "I know." A minute later, she pulled away, and the front of her robes were wet from Poppy's tears. Poppy could sense helpful advice coming. "Do you want to know what I think?" Minerva asked quietly, and Poppy looked up at her with watery eyes.

"What?"

"We all have varying levels of pain. I think that all of us have a sort of pain that unimaginable to another. Such is life. We shouldn't dwell on the pain that we all inevitably have: instead, we should focus on the good things that we have. Remus Lupin is a... well, he's ill. But he has two wonderful parents who love him. His 'normal' is different from ours, but that doesn't mean he has a completely awful life. It's just a different kind of normal—a new normal."

Poppy nodded and sniffed a little.

"And he has three friends who accept him."

"We don't know that."

"For right now, they do. And he has plenty of intelligence and activities that he enjoys. And he plays outside with his friends—did you see his face at the last Quidditch match? Or on Halloween?"

"No, I was sitting with the Hufflepuffs. And the full moon wasn't until November second."

"I've never seen him so happy," Minerva assured her. "It isn't the dark that we should focus on, it's the light that cancels it out. With all people—everyone that you can't help. It's just life, Poppy. Just life. No matter how much we think about how awful things are, they won't change... but thinking about how wonderful things are can change our mindsets, at least."

Poppy granted her a watery smile. "Thank you. That helps."

"Of course it does. I'm a very helpful person, you know."

Poppy nodded, ever thankful. "Now that I've done my ranting," she said, feeling a lot better than she had been feeling mere minutes ago, "I'll give you some time to rant about Potter and Black."

"Oh, thank goodness." Minerva straightened up and immediately went off on a tirade about their shenanigans: disrespect, loud voices, lack of motivation, disregard for the rules... et cetera, et cetera, et cetera. Poppy had heard it all before.

"I think you like them," said Poppy slyly once Minerva had finished.

"What? No!"

"Oh no, you definitely like them. Potter is fantastic at Transfiguration, is he not? And flying? Both things that you're talented at, yourself."

"Well... maybe I do like them a little," admitted Minerva with a heavy sigh, "merely because they're Gryffindors through and through. Don't tell anyone."

Poppy hummed her consent and took a sip of tea. "So... that game you play with Remus that you mentioned earlier...? Tell me more."

Minerva laughed. She didn't laugh often around students, and Poppy loved to hear it. "I wasn't very comfortable around him at first; you know that. And he knew it too. He was obviously uncomfortable around me, too—things were awkward at first. Classes consisted of avoiding eye contact, mostly. It was distracting. So I told him that we'd play a game of sorts: whichever of us can act normally around the other first wins. We've been giving each other points. I'm winning."

"Not what he told Albus."

Minerva sipped her tea. "He's deluded."

"So... any reason why you aren't comfortable around werewolves? It seems a bit odd for you of all people to be afraid..."

"Not afraid!" protested Minerva. "Just uncomfortable. As you know, I'm half-blood, and my mother—a witch—took pride in her heritage. She told me stories of the wizarding world all the time—trying to bring me back to my roots, even though we lived in a Muggle village. I heard so many tales of werewolves being a danger to society, even from an early age. They're bogeymen, Poppy. The monsters under the beds. Children grow up with an innate fear of them... They ask their parents to check their closets for them before they go to sleep. Their parents tell them that that a werewolf will eat them if they get out of bed or disobey the rules. I was so afraid of werewolves as a child that I hated going outside at night. There's a fear instilled in young children, and it takes a while to shake off. That's all. It's not that I'm afraid of him—you know me, I'm a proud Gryffindor. I just don't like... the idea of it."

"Even though he's so small and harmless?"

"Yes. I'm not proud of it." Minerva finished off her tea. "But I can stand to be around him much more easily now. I like him, you know. Quiet, calm. The exact opposite of Potter and Black."

"Do you ever shut up about them?" Poppy teased.

"I'll shut up about them when you shut up about Remus. All you ever talk about these days."

"He's the only company I have these days!"

"Except when John Questus visits..." teased Minerva. She knew all about Poppy's hatred towards John Questus—he had, in fact, been the subject of Poppy's last after-hours rant.

"Ugh! Don't even talk about him. The horrible, insensitive..."

"Yes, I know. You've ranted about him to me before. I think you fancy him, don't you?"

"Who, John?" Poppy gagged. "That's too far. I'm going to bed now."

"You accused me of liking Potter and Black. I'm only returning the favor."

"It's not the same thing! I do not fancy John Questus!"

"Sweet dreams," called Minerva. "I'll plan the wedding."

"You're such a child!" snapped Poppy, opening the door to leave. "You sound like Potter."

Minerva feigned disgust. "You'd better leave before I hex you."

Poppy obliged, shutting the door with a little more force than necessary and heading back to the Hospital Wing to check on Remus.

Minerva, she reflected, was a wonderful friend, and she was glad that Remus had a few such friends of his own.

Everybody needed friends, didn't they?

AN: Another scene from my fanfic (link in blog description). I don’t think John Questus has ever made an appearance on my tumblr before, just because he’s an OC and hard to explain in short snapshots like this—but he’s my favorite character lol and I was waiting for a good moment to mention him!

[socketz]

Spencer Reid x Reader 

Talking To The Moon.

Inspired by the Bruno Mars song, because it’s the one I listen to when I come up with my Spencer Reid fantasies😃.

Type : Angst (It’s just so fuckin’ sad, man)

Warnings : A LOT. Detailed mentions of r*pe / sexual assault, child m*lestation / assault / r*pe, physical abuse, physical fighting, broken bones, dislocated joints (Replacing them! Which is so disgusting, the thought makes me cringe), trauma, the usual Criminal Minds terminology (in terms of describing an UnSub), emotional breakdown, a lot of Death Talk™️ (which could somehow be perceived as suicidal, I guess?), and actual death, there is one (1) kiss. It is a PECK, crude language (profanity), and I think that’s it.

Word Count : 16.3K (this was NOT supposed to be that long, ohmygod)

Request : Not Requested. (This idea came to me in a really horrifying dream that I had, a few weeks ago. I always document my dreams, and this was... Well, it was more of a nightmare. I won’t share, but from the tone of the Fanfic I’m sure you can gather the terror that it endured.)

Summary : There’s a lot of plot for this one. The reader takes on a case (an unauthorised case, you understand), that she relates to on a very personal level. Determined to take on this UnSub, after observing his crimes within the media, and finding thelselves enraged by the Police’s futile attempts to make progress in his arrest, they search for him themselves, and they happen to forget every ounce of Federal Safety training they have ever experienced. Uh, Oh! Do I smell kidnapping? Yes, I do! The reader is kidnapped by the Unsub, and tortured for four days straight. The team are searching for them, but are they fast enough? Either way, Spencer will never forgive himself, and the reader isn’t sure they’ll make it out the other side, alive.

Authors Note : First of all, Baby Spence🥺🤚 the way he was RIDDLED with trauma?? PLEASE?? Got me out here trying to shift realities just to give this man a hug- like he really needs some love, y’know? I have other one shots in the works where he IS receiving his well deserved affection, but it’s not really this one (though he is comforting the reader. Well deserved, methinks)😭 this is perhaps the most graphic and depressing one shot I have ever written😃 I mean, enjoy??? I don’t know if that is the right word. Make sure you read the warning, man, the topics at hand are dealt with in depth and I do not want to trigger anyone!!!!!

Talking To The Moon, Spencer Reid x Reader

They say that the barrel of a gun is cold; that it seeps into the precipitation of your complexion, and the steel aches a circular coolness. They say that your life flashes before your eyes, and that your fight, flight, or freeze, kicks in, when the initial shock of fatality flashes, and blinds you for a defining split second. They say that in your final moments, you show who you truly are. 

They are wrong. 

The metal is warm, upon my forehead, as I blink slowly, a thousand thoughts - words, and probabilities; numbers, and statistics, and the thumping of my heart (thump, thump, thump; thump, thump, thump) everything, and anything; anything, and nothing - all find themselves meandering their way throughout my congested conscience. I think not of my childhood, the warm touch of my mother’s embrace, and neither the pride in my chest as I received my first ‘100%’, with a wonky smiley face, feedback for my very first official essay in school; not the swarm of flying insects, rampant within my stomach, as I first walked into the Behavioural Analysis Unit, of the Federal Investigations Bureau. I think not of Spencer, not of Morgan, or Penelope, Hotch, and Emily. I am… I am not… 

The barrel of the gun is warm.

I blink slowly.

A sheen of smeared colour - like the pretense of a dull oil painting, perceived too close to the canvas - washes over my vision, steals the breath from my aching throat - thump, thump, thump, my heart cries; lodged beneath my tongue, thump, thump, thump - I swallow it back. Thickly, like treacle, and I… There- There is-

The barrel of the gun is warm. 

I blink slowly. 

I collect myself, in my throat, and I gulp with a softness that simply does not suffice. The flavour of something- of something burned, something charred, lies upon the dry thrum of my tongue, and I allow myself to taste it. Just for a- just for a moment. Just for a moment, I taste it, and it is charred- charred and metallic. The burned flavour of my chest, thumping iambically beneath my heavy-set jaw, wafts up, up, up, throughout my trachea, and it coils between my teeth. From the back, to the front, around, and around, does it crawl, and my heart thunders on in my thoughts; thump-thump-thump, thump-thump-thump. 

The barrel of the gun is warm.

I blink slowly. 

The same ache rolls around my motionless joints; it burrows beneath my stained complexion, and I do not flinch as something pop’s, and another bone crack’s. It is not- I am warm. An uncomfortable sense of warmth, that settles upon my grimy skin, and collects itself among my wounded figure, and- and it’s- and it’s hot. It’s hot, and it aches- 

But the barrel of the gun is warm, and I blink slowly. 

I blink slowly, and the barrel of the gun is warm. 

I yearn to think, to obtain coherency, but the barrel of the gun is warm, and it hurts. Oh, it aches, and I- a shuddered breath falls from my unnaturally moistened mouth, tainted by the spill of internally displaced fluid, and I force my eyes to peel open. To unveil beneath their thick hoods, to dismiss the burning heat that flares from my slow blinking, to show him no weakness. I force my eyes to peel open, because, by God, if it’s the last thing I’ll ever do, I will look him in the eyes, and I will silently congratulate myself on my victory. I will not lose; I will not surrender.

And so I peel back my lids, and I ignore the sweltering ache that rushes upon my discoloured, broken, cheek, and I observe him with a gaze of (what I pray to be) great indifference. I slack my features, and I spare myself the wince, as the temptation of heat, licking away the wet droop of my bruised face, engulfs the structure of my poised, blank, expression. Dark, dark, circles; the kind of spherical matter that the mariana trench may find envy within, roam me. Thoughtlessly. Not a thing behind those eyes - no feeling, no rage, no pain. There is no tremble to his digits, as he holds the trigger of the sleek revolver, cherry-wood-handled, and there is no twitch within the muscular construction of his nonchalance, as it fades between four-a-piece, and a regular, blurred, arrangement. 

This is it, I think, at last, and the silence between my irrevocably untelling orbs infiltrates its way through my subconscious. Soon - a mere matter of seconds, that spirals to the incoherent detailing of a slurry construct - there is nought but the mulling tone of my heart, thumping endlessly beneath my burning sternum, and I force myself to breathe evenly. In, my chest rises softly, and out, I exhale something shaken through my nostrils.

By God, I think; this really is it. 

And the barrel of the gun is warm, as I blink up at him slowly, and I do not regard the noiseless sobbing of the child, to the darkest corner of the room. 

This is it. It pounds within my ears, morphed upon the rhythm of my steady heartbeat; this is it, this is it, this is it. 

This is it, and the barrel of the gun is warm, and I blink up at him slowly, and the breath on my tongue tastes like the charred meat of my steadily thumping heart, and I think of nothing. Nothing, nothing, nothing, at all - nothing but the silent shake of a tear-stricken expression, caught beneath the dim lighting, as her circular, little, face, enlarges. Enlarges, and morphes, by shadows, and yellow light; approaching. I do not regard her, as she nears in my peripheral, and the curve of her small, fragile, shoulders tremble, and the flush of her moistened cheeks glimmer among the bulb’s reflection, but the burned flavour on my tongue ceases its subtlety, and there is a taught capture about the breath in my lungs. It is reeled back, and stored deeply beneath my broken bones.

And, suddenly, my heartbeat lurches into my throat.

I miss the warmth of the metal, as it flinches away from my bloodied forehead, and I miss the dark discs of his thoughtless eyes, as they leave me, and the ache of my tongue dissipates to a resolve of bitter dryness. 

There she stands, beneath the weight of the revolver, with a violent shake to her thin figure, and a harsh, bruised, red, to her cheeks; puffy eyed, and traumatized. She breathes not a word, she expresses not a sound, and still his finger curls. Curls subtly, ever-so-gently, and my heart tumbles into my mouth, before I can drag it back down. “Coward.” It spits, unbearably rasped upon the echo of my dry, naked, throat; like wood upon sandpaper, it grits, and it grits, and the shavings collapse in my lungs, as they heave; in, I rasp; and out. “You’ll-” I gather my cheek between my jaw, and I nibble it tearsly, a deep, seering, heat erupting- erupting, and sprouting; multiplying, between my very cells. “You’re gonna shoot a- a little-” Another pained, hollow, heave; I clamber for steady footing. “Shoot a little girl?” Dark, dark, circles… no feeling, no rage, no pain. They catch within the light, and never before have I observed a shadow exposed by the sun, and still obtaining its darkness. But there they are, as they gaze unto my own, and I level our stare with ease. “Impotent son of a bitch.” I murmur, a mere breath upon the quiet. 

Antagonize him, my conscious crows; rile him up, give him reason for distraction.

 “That is-” I stutter in my respiration, and the wheeze of a wet cough finds the depth of my chest. It rumbles through the rasp of my throat, and a slick, metallic, moisture coils upon the flesh of my lower lip. The coppery taste ravishes my mouth, and I allow the liquid to spit between my words. “That is why you do it, isn’t it?” I say, no more than a whisper, gargled by the congestion of the red fluid pool, congregated about my tongue. “You couldn’t-” Another ragged breath, “Couldn’t perform. Not for the-” I swallow the metallic, warm, liquid, and it burns my aching throat. “Not for the pretty women. Hm?” He regards me, motionlessly, and the discs of irrevocable blackness roam my hot, burning, features. “So you too-” I gulp back the rise of blood in my throat, unsettled and naturally rejected. “So you took to little girls, instead, didn’t-” A softer, shallower, inhale, “Didn’t you?” 

Silence. The iambic thrum of my heartbeat interrupts the depth of the quiet, but I push it down - down, down, down, beneath the crushing weight of my charred sternum, and I force myself to continue. 

“Yeah.” I say, quietly, “You did.” I harden my gaze. “You do.” You take them, their vulnerable, defenseless, innocent, selves, and you steal their childhood; you steal their youth like the dawn to the night, and you rip the world from beneath their fucking feet. “They’re small.” I rasp. “Young.” I try not to think of the dry red, that - the dry, dark, blood, that stains her little thighs, and I try not to picture the tears on her cheeks, and the seeping crimson that cakes the lower quarter of her sweet, white, dress. I try not to entangle her contorted features with a familiar reflection, try to ignore the burning ache of my sweltering chest, as it burns, and it binds, and contracts so ferociously, and I swallow back the lump, riddled with- with- with something. (Bile, blood, bitten down sobs, does it matter? Does it matter?). 

There she stands, with a violent shake to her thin figure, and a harsh, bruised, red, to her cheeks; puffy eyed, and traumatized.

“They’re small enough to-” I nibble my inner cheek, and the rasp engulfing my tone threatens to tinge with a bespoken darkness. “They’re small enough to feel you, aren’t they?” I say, and there’s something- there’s something that flashes, be it only a split moment, behind those unforgiving holes he deems the window to his soul. Black, and inhumane. Fitting. “They feel you enough to react.” The muscle to the corner of his left eye contracts, a mere millimeter, or so, but I catch it. Oh, do I catch it. “They cry.” I say, softly, and I hope that the girl holds any kind of oblivion she once may have obtained. “They scream. They bleed.” They die. “But, hey,” I murmur, “any liquid is liquid, right?”

It burns, and it aches, and I nibble the eroded flesh of my inner cheek, and I blink up at him slowly, but at least he is here. At least he is here, at least her blood is dry, at least she can walk. At least I can buy her some extent of recovery time. “You’re sick.” I spit, tone lowered significantly, but still strong. Somehow, I obtain my strength, and I continue. “You’re twisted, and you’re useless.” I say. “You’re nothing but a freak, a shrimpy coward with no sexual capability.” Twitch, twitch; the muscle of his left eye contracts, once more, with more force; more concealed rage, bubbling away beneath the surface. “Pathetic.” I continue, a mere grumble upon the thickening silence. “You couldn’t satisfy a woman if you tried-” The barrel of the gun is colder, now, as he forcefully presses it’s rim upon my forehead, but the steel soon begins to warm. I blink up at him slowly, and I prod. I prod, and I prod, and I wait for the sleeping lion to snap and bite. A breathy chuckle falls from my dry tongue. “There it is.” I whisper. “There it is- you’re an embarrassment, aren’t you?” I mock, tone thick with some kind of congealed, faux, amusement. I swallow back the uprising liquid, lodged thickly amongst my throat, and I offer him a blank, condescending, smile. Bloody-toothed, and bitter. “Tell me, Ben, can you even get it up, properly, anymore?” 

SMACK.

I hear it, and then- then I feel it, and before I know what has hit me, he has. The tang of warm liquid, filling my mouth, is entirely indifferent to the coppery flavour I have grown to know, as of late, and I bite back the bubbling groan, a flare of burning heat traveling through the very cells in my ruptured cheekbone. Bruised, and tender; the flourish of agonizing heat pulsates, like the steady beat of my burning chest, and I regain my sturdy posture, gazing back unto the deep, dark, discs. Lifeless, enraged. I ignore the pulse in my features, and the thump of my circulation, gushing rampantly through my senses, as I adjust my blaring joints, and I maneuver my strung limbs. Wrists confined to the sufficient, tight, expertise of Benjamin’s personal experience, they hang perpendicular to my sides; expanded, outstretched, like the span of a bird in flight. 

I hang from them, there, upon the wall, and I ignore the raging fire, engulfing my (dislocated) damaged shoulders. Slumped upon my knees, bruised and discoloured for all their worth, I tilt my head up, and I blink at him slowly. My eyes water, a natural reaction, and the sting in my cheekbone echoes with the afterthought of his gun, freshly stricken, throbbing. But still, I bore my gaze unto his own, and I force my jaw to loosen. “Touchy.” I grumble, bitterly. “What’s the-” I swallow the consistently uprising clump of blood, and of rejected bile, and I try again. “What’s the matter, Benny?” I press. “You insecure?” I say. “Ashamed?” Of course he isn’t, he’s furious. It doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter. “Challenged?” The muscle of his left eye twitches, again, and I force a crooked, toothy, smile. “Yeah.” I say, “That’s it. You’re afraid.” Another twitch. “Out of your dep- out of your depth.” 

“Shut up.” He snaps, “Shut up.” 

My eyebrows raise, and I allow another breathy, rasped, chuckle to fall from my cracked mouth. “Raping little girls is one thing,” I continue, “But kidnapping, and torturing an Official Officer?” Another fleeting, thin, laugh. “Jesus. Who knows what they’ll do to you in there?” 

“They worship Pig killers in that place.” Benjamin snarls, and, for once, I find myself smiling with an unmissable genuinity. 

“Yeah.” I say, with a grin. “They do.” And I allow my humour to dance within my gaze, as I motion the man closer, with a subtle toss of my head. He follows, nose aligned with the warm barrel of the revolver, and I ignore the throb of my cheek, and the iambic scream of my heart. “But, see, Benny-Boy,” I whisper, my breath fanning his thin lips, “I ain’t no Pig.” I tongue the soft mutilation of my inner cheek. “I’m a Federal Fucking Agent.” 

The breeze is not calming, as it brushes upon my face, and I throw myself forward, crashing my forehead upon the smooth curve of his foolishly close expression. A barbaric crack rips though the disturbed quiet, and the sudden splat of warm liquid dignifies itself upon my sopping complexion, as the muffled tumble of retreating, unsteady, footsteps echo clumsily around the room. I think I got his nose, as I fall back against the wall, arms useless, and I connect with the concrete behind me, dragging my bruised and bloodied limbs out, as they abandon their position of lying beneath me. I sit aloft the ground, and my legs roar with a thousand shallow wounds; pins and needles scattering hoarsely about the flesh of my weak anatomy. “Fuck,” I murmur, as I ignore the dizzying, blurred, contortion that warps my unsturdy vision. From a multiple of four, to adjacent and blurred, but singular, Ben scurries to his feet, displaced to an enclosing distance. 

Thump-thump-thump, my heart cries in my ears, and the white noise of the blurred silence seems to hum along to it’s rhythm, thump-thump-thump, but I can’t leave her behind. I cannot bring myself to let her down - not again. Not again. Not again. 

I can’t let her down - thump-thump-thump, thump-thump-thump - as the pins run up my limbs, and the needles pivot their course around, and around the flesh of my legs. Thump-thump-thump, thump-thump-thump, he draws closer. One stumbled step at a time; one step, two steps, three steps, four, I use the wall and bend my knees, groaning beneath the weight of my fucking agony, and I tear myself from the concrete ground, allowing the yell to rip from my moistened, raspy, throat. Thump-thump-thump, thump-thump-thump, he tumbles; closer, closer, closer, closer. 

The cry that rips from my throat, as I throw my leg to his side, it bounces upon the thick walls. It mocks me, in my dizzy breathing, and it laughs along with his soft, quiet, grunt. I strike at his chest, with the ball of my foot, and I pray that my quivering muscles suffice. Ignoring the ambush of sweltering heat, coursing throughout my ankle, and the damaged joint of my knee, I tear up to his throat (his frame hunched, and breathless) with the inner curve of my ankle. SLAM. I revel in the slap of skin, upon skin, as his betrayed choking engulfs my rugged, teary, silence. Oh, how it burns, it aches, and I cry- I cry with such volume, as I draw down upon his cheek, as he falls to the ground, and I crush it beneath my aching heel. 

His parted lips heave with an airy groan, and I force myself to repeat. To repeat, to repeat, to repeat, until the blood beneath my throbbing heel all but retracts my complexion’s grip. The flesh of my foot slips upon his motionless expression, the curl of his digits slowly unravelling, and I slam my limb down upon his broken, bloodied, face, again, and again, and I ignore the warmth of the tears upon my cheek, as they dribble their way down. I notice the first, and then the rest seem to follow, uncontainable and relentless, and still I pummel the structure.

Bruised, and toughened, the sopping entrapment of my wounded heel draws down upon his fractured features, and I release a withheld, shuddered, breath. It is warm, as it fans my chin, and I allow my legs to feather themselves unstably upon the ground. I stop. I pause, and I gather myself with brief collection. The tight stinging behind my eyes seems to worsen, as I force the lump in my throat to dissect, and to surrender to the flames of my burning, charred, sternum, but I swallow it all back, and I shake my legs loose, slowly dropping my frame back down upon the concrete below. 

There he lies; still, and unmoving. Not dead, but not quite alive. 

The girl. It rings in my ears, as my heartbeat settles to something familiar; the girl, the girl, the girl. The girl who’s name I have yet to learn, the girl I have failed to protect - the girl I must save. The girl I refuse to let down, again. “Hey,” I call, quietly, and I soften my tone with significance, just enough (I hope) to eliminate the threat of the glimmering, red, blood, that begins to dry upon my body. “Hey, sweetheart.” I shake back my hair, and I turn to face her, ignoring the glassy shein that warps upon my vision, as my body entraps in a wave of unforgiving warmth, and the hot, burning, sensation engulfes my entirety; running up, and down, from left, to right, in and out of my limbs, from my eye sockets, to the tips of my bloodied toes. It aches, and it burns, and I plaster on a kind, gentle, smile, and I observe the tears upon her scarlet cheeks. “What’s your-” I nibble the ruined flesh of my inner cheek, as a flare of something (something like agony) curls around the joint of my displaced shoulder, and runs sharply through my arm, “What’s your name?” I ask, quietly, and I try to bereft the strain from my tone. 

But, oh, it aches, and oh, it burns. 

“Alyssa.” She replies, quietly. 

“Alyssa?” I try the name on my tongue. “Alyssa, Okay.” I say. “Alyssa, I need you to do something for me.” I tell her, “I need you to do something for me, is that Okay?” Her nimble, sad, face, nods, and I feel something shift in my chest. The burning increases, and the blood on my tongue tastes more like heartache, than of copper. “Okay.” I say, “Can you try to untie these ropes?” I nod gently to the strong grip of my wrists, entrapped within the beige confinement, and I hope - oh, how I hope - that her little fingers are good for something. 

“Okay.” Alyssa says, softly, as she teeters a step closer, and she approaches the still figure of the bloodied, unconscious, man. “Is it-” She steps over his arm, “Is it painful?” 

She reaches up to the knot, be it just above her head, and she works at the painfully tightened enigma. I hiss, softly, at a gentle jolt of my shoulder, and I ignore the loud pop of its agonizing displacement, pulsating with heat, as I murmur my quiet reply. “Only a little.” I lie. “Are you feeling okay?” I ask, tenderly, “Does anything hurt, down-” Another hiss, I swallow it back audibly, “down there?” 

“Only a little.” She mimics, not at all unkindly, as she works at the knot, and she straightens her small, tear-slick, mouth. There is mulled silence, for a passing moment, and I tongue the rough complexion of my inner cheek. “I didn’t cry.” She admits, as though I should be one to offer my congratulations. “I didn’t fight him.” She says. “I’m a good girl.” I swallow the lump in my throat, and I blink slowly, as to diminish the sting of my eyes, and I allow my breath to fall shaky, and uneven, as I regard the girl with a furrow to my brow. I didn’t cry. I didn’t fight him. I’m a good girl. 

“Alyssa, I-” I meet the sharp blue of her cerulean, glossy, gaze, and I observe the seeking ache behind them - the dull rim that seeps upon the light’s reflection. “Alyssa,” I whisper, “listen to me.” Her hands work at the knot, and the curl of it all begins to shuffle loose. “That man is a bad man.” I say. “He’s a monster. You know the kind you read about? In- In the- In the books?” She nods, softly, and I reciprocate her action. “Well, he’s one of ‘em.” I say, and her gentle expression of repressed agony crumples; dissolves to the pinch of a furrow.

“He looks normal to me.” She says. 

“They always do.” I reply, with something like sympathy curled among my smile. “The monster lives inside them.”

“Like a house?”

“Sure.” I say, “Like a house.” 

“I don’t like that house.” She whispers, hardly that of a breath upon the laboured quiet, and I feel the subtle breeze of freedom beginning to slither around my aching wrist. 

The strong simmer behind my eyes seems to ignite a stronger burn, and the blur of colours coaxing my vision adheres to engulfing my senses entirely, a clamp in my jaw to withhold the overwhelming urge to burst out with some kind of vocal sob. I bite it back, gnawing softly upon the mauled flesh of my inner cheek, and I offer Alyssa a gentle, toothy, smile. “Good.” I say. “Good. You don’t have to worry-” A scream tears from my throat, and the barricade of blurring moisture spills over with ease. “Fuck!” I hiss, “Fuck- Shit-” My arm audibly slaps down upon my side, the wrist an awkwardly angled bend, as it cracks aloft the harsh concrete below, and the mocking double-act-popping makes its merry way through, the joint finding itself inverted and ajar, and, oh, it aches, it burns. It fucking burns, and I- “Do the other one.” I murmur, strained by the bite of irrevocable pain, as a teary eyed Alyssa forces herself to overstep Benjamin’s right arm, and to meet the limp hang of my dislodged limb, and her nimble little fingers get to work on the opposing knot. 

I try to grind my teeth, try to swallow back the uprising sob that teeters thickly among my taught throat, and I try to focus solely upon the unmoving man upon the floor, as my arm hangs loosely at my side, and the pulsating ache rivets throughout my entirety; it swirls behind my eyes, and up, up, up, up around the iambic thrum of my cold, incandescent, mind, and down to the very tips of my sharp collarbones; to the steady rise of my chest; in, and out, in, and out, and I listen to the thump of my heartbeat, as it sings it’s hellish chorus in my ears, and it rings true for yet another second - thump, thump, thump; thump, thump, thump - and I pay attention to the melody, the sporadic pulse, the rhythmic reminder that: Here I Am. Living. Breathing (Barely?). With The Life Of A Little Girl In My Hands. There it is. There it is. The truth. There it is. And I listen to it, again. I listen to it again, and I look at her. 

I look at Alyssa, with a violent shake to her thin figure, and a harsh, bruised, red, to her cheeks; puffy eyed, and traumatized, as she works at the knot, and she sniffles to herself quietly. I look at Alyssa, and she isn’t crying. I didn’t cry. I didn’t fight him. I’m a good girl. She is a good girl. I look at Alyssa, and I see nothing but a girl that deserves the world, and I know that she is a good girl, but why should she have to learn her worth in such an earth-shattering way? I nibble my inner cheek, and I digest the uprising urge to allow my eyes to water (excessively, for they have already washed the blood of my bruised, and broken, features, and they lay wet upon my cheeks), as I call out to her gently, and I watch her glimmering gaze remove itself from her concentrated scowl.

“Lissy?” I call, softly, with a furrow to my eyebrows. I meet her cerulean stare, and I observe the reserved redness that circles her glassy orbs, as she draws back her own impulse to cry, and I speak again. Quietly. Always quietly. “Can I call you Lissy?” I ask.

Alyssa nods. “Mommy calls me Lissy Doll.” She says, and the burning flavour flares up, again, upon the back of my dry tongue. I concentrate on it, as the heat of my dislocated shoulder begins to fade, and I suppose that the taste of charred flesh is better than the agony of broken bones. 

I offer her a smile, though I feel it comes across more as a grimace than that of any reassurance, and I nod gingerly. “Alright.” I say. “Lissy, it is.” There is something like heartache, and like the dullness of doubt, that clouds the brightness of her young, infantile, orbs, and I force my lower limbs to shuffle, to face the readily repressing girl before me, as she holds back her upcoming wave of cries, and she swallows back her sorrow. “It’s Okay to cry, you know.” I say, gently, and she shifts her gaze to engulf my warm, piercing, stare, within her own, and the glassy shein begins to thicken. “It doesn’t make you weak.” I whisper. “I know it-” I force down the uprising lump in my throat, a sudden lodge beneath the muscle of my tongue, and I try again, with a tone somehow softer than before. “I know that it hurts, Lissy.” I say, “I know that you want to be strong, and that you- that you want to be a good girl,” A shaken exhale falls from my lips, “but, sweetheart, you don’t need to go through something like that to prove it.” 

She nods, softly, and she purses her lips together, trembling and shaken by her trauma. 

“Lissy, if you can-” I swallow back an audible groan, as I shuffle my injured frame, and the pulse of reconciling heat flares violently within the loose hinge of my displaced shoulder. “If you can untie me, Okay, we can get out of here.” I assure, attempting to convey something like promise with the stern stare of my unwavering eyes. I pray that Alyssa does not notice the tremble of my limbs, or the shudder in my ribs, as something crawls, and winds, its way between my shattered bones, and I pray that she does not notice the exhaustion behind my determination, that she does not catch wind of my growing fatigue, and the difficulty I face in trying to suppress my growing agony. 

“Okay.” She murmurs, and I find myself deflating with a soft exhale, shoulders falling, and dismissing the grave pulsation of fiery heat that depicts its bitter eruption throughout the damaged nerves of my bloody anatomy.

“Okay.” I nod, attempting to compile any form of reassurance, as I tilt my head back, gentle as I can possibly muster, and I let the crown loll back upon the brickwork. It aches, and it burns, but we’re almost there. By God, we are almost there. “Alright.” I repeat, breathless in my movement, as her small digits begin to unwind the tight knotting of the rope. “I need you to-” A subtle jolt, as the rope loosens, sends a great flare of agonized heat throughout my limb, and the rumble of a deep-routed groan falls from the hollow of my throat; low, and honest. “Fuck.” I murmur, softly, as Alyssa wraps her grip upon the burning ache of my wrist, and she removes the restraint entirely, supporting the arm with minimal (though violently painful) adjustment. A roar of unavoidable flames engulfs the limb, as she lowers it gently, and she drapes the limp wrist upon the concrete. I suppress the bubbling hiss that threatens to fall from between my gritted teeth, and I gulp back the wave of nausea that grips me suddenly. 

A swirl of something bitter, something terrible, begins its sultry dance among my stomach - empty, by a four day solitude - and I feel the burl of air, and of ingested blood, of salivation, gargle nastily toward the very pit of my protesting stomach. Still, I ignore it. 

“Lissy, you need to-” I swallow the uprising concoction, warm and smooth in my throat, and I try again, forcing my words through a clenched jaw. “I need you to fix my arm, Okay?” I need you to re-locate my fucking shoulder, and I need you to do it now, before Benjamin wakes up. If he wakes up, I suppose. The slow, unstable, rise and fall of his darkly clothed back is difficult to judge, among my dizzied vision, and the blurred contortion of the world. I do not dwell on this. I do not have to tear my eyes away, they drift naturally, and there she stands; wide-eyed, traumatized, silently begging me to let out a sudden laugh, and to declare my insinuation a practical joke. “Now, Alyssa.” I say, with a sternness that I suppose she is not used to. Not from me, at least, as the glossy depiction of her wide orbs returns, and, again, I find myself unable to dwell on it, as I turn to where her hands hesitantly hover about my sagging limb. “Just-” I exhale a shuddered breath, because, Jesus, this was never in the job description, and I allow my head to fall back upon the wall behind it, as my eyes flutter shut, and I open my mouth to continue. “Just grab onto it - gently, for the love of God - at the upper- at the upper arm.” A small hand wraps around my bicep, and I flinch involuntarily. Oh Fuck, my mind chants, pulsing throughout my body; Oh Fuck, Oh Fuck, Oh Fuck. “Put your other hand-” I swallow back the bile concoction, “Put your other hand next to my shoulde- Shit!” She rips away the palm of her small hand, explicit with a short cry, as I yell out my curse, and the pulse of agony spreads upon the damn wound she placed pressure upon. Be specific, Y/N, my conscience scolds; she’s a fucking child. 

It’s not her fault - not her fault, not her fault - but fuck, if that didn’t hurt. I let out a shaky breath, and I force the erratic respiration of my rising chest to calm the fuck down; in, and out, in, and out, and I offer her a tight-lipped grimace, as she regards me with wide, cautious, eyes. 

“Sorry.” I breathe. “I didn’t-” Another groan; the pulse of my pain continues to mock me, to taunt me violently within the unsteady strum of my gushing ears. Thump, thump, thump, it cries; Oh Fuck, Oh Fuck, Oh Fuck. “I didn’t mean to yell at you.” I say, softly. “It just, uh-” I bite back another cry. “It hurts. That’s all.” She nods, timidly, and I observe the aggressive tremble of her hand, as she begins to re-insinuate her previous positioning. “Not there!” I splutter, abruptly, and she halts in her movement, “Not there, Lissy,” I murmur, as my head rolls back against the brickwork behind me, and I tilt it away from her. “Closer to my- closer to my neck, alright? Not on the shoulder, itself.” She murmurs a noise that sounds similar to some kind of agreement, and I clench my jaw. I clench my jaw, and the nausea bubbling within my stomach seems to heighten. Fuck. And I-

Oh Fuck. It pulses around my aching body; Oh Fuck, Oh Fuck, Oh Fuck, Oh Fuck, Oh- “FUCK!” 

A loud, excruciating, crack, snaps out within the laboured silence, and I am submerged in (what feels like) the damned flames of Hell, licking and biting upon the sore flesh of my battered body, devouring my arm in sharp, agonized, nibbles; ripping chunks of my consciousness with them. “Jesu- Fuck. Holy fuck.” I murmur, slurred and messy, as a hot bout of drunken agony spouts throughout that damned joint. Up, and down, does it stumble; here, there, and everywhere, and I find myself unable to bite back the wave of tears, as they force themselves to grapple my attention, and to erode the bloodied concoction of fresh coating about my features, and I can hardly process the weight of their thickening moisture, as it gathers upon my cheeks, because - Oh, God, holy fuck - oh, I can hardly- It burns. It aches, and it burns, and it devours my limb entirely. 

“Do the other one.” I demand, lowly, tone riddled with a rasp of violent agony, as the heat springs forth to my complexion in a tuft of dampening precipitation, and the salty layer begins to seep the red wash of my skin. “Alyssa.” I say, with a grave harshness to my tone, as she remains unmoving (sobbing silently, to herself) beside me. “Do the other one.” I do not dwell on her quiet crying, as she makes her way before me, and she nestles down at my opposing side, and I do not dwell on the ever-burning fire that seems to corrupt every living cell within me, swirling, biting, licking, ruining, me; running circles upon my exhausted frame. Exhausted. It paints the inner lids of my eyes, and the thought of rest seems so entirely delightful, that I have to peel them open. Exhausted. Exhausted. Exhausted. Exhausted. I resent myself for protesting my bodily wishes, and I heave the silent cry of my sobbing frame, denatured and entirely unaware. Unaware. Oblivious. Unfeeling, as another riveting POP echoes throughout the subtly disturbed volume of the room.

I feel it. 

Oh, do I feel it. 

But it does not register. 

I am so alight, I am so wholly consumed, as the flames lick, and they engulf my frame; they wind brutally throughout the broken possession of my bone marrow, and they curve within the bruise of my jutting spine, my fractured rib; they grapple the cranium of my mind so violently, that I feel my slow blinking may rupture me an explosive head, at any given moment; they rip, and they tear, at the flesh of my muscles, running laps around, and around, my pain threshold; daring me, taunting me. Still think you’re winning? They laugh. Still think you’re winning?

But Alyssa is still here. Alyssa is still here, and Benjamin is still unmoving, at my feet, and I am still breathing. Alyssa is still here, and I am still breathing, and- 

And soft, small, fingers wind through the matted knots of my bloodied, stained, hair, at the base of my neck. 

I shift my watery gaze upon the girl beside me, stricken with a glaze of unforgettable, lurching, fear, as her blue eyes blubber silently, and she cries, and she cries, and she does her best to offer me comfort. She does her best to offer me comfort, and she smiles with closed, tear-tousled, lips, as I furrow my eyebrows, and I find myself bubbling with a warm determination. 

Still winning, my heart thuds, still winning, still winning, still winning. Still winning, and I force my limbs to shift. To move an inch, or perhaps a mere centimeter, as that damned fire engulfs my arms, and it wraps them up, up, up; up, and down, spiraling throughout the system of my nerves. From the depth of the crook in my elbow, to the muscles hung loosely amongst my shoulders. Around, and around, but still, I try. “Come here,” I whisper, softly, and I motion with a nod of the head for Lissy to approach. She follows, a stumble or so trodden, and then she stands before me. I lift my arm - jaw clenched, swallowing back the rise of that bile concoction, and ignoring the violent flare of heat that deems eruption amongst the joint of my fucking shoulder - and I run my thumb along the red flush of her tear-stricken cheek. Trembling, though it is, I hold her face with soft assertion. “We’re gonna be just fine,” I say, almost inaudible beneath my bitten down cries, and I offer her a tight-lipped smile. “I promise, Lissy.” I say. “I promise.”

Alyssa doesn’t nod, she doesn’t offer me one of those (non)comforting, teary, smiles, that find my chest clenching with some sort of heartache, rather than warmth, and, instead, the girl furrows her eyebrows. “Does it hurt?” She asks, again, and I know that she is looking for honesty. That she wants the truth, despite her youth; that her innocence is gone. That whatever spark she once attained no longer resides within her cerulean orbs, and that they are darker beneath the dim yellow lighting. That they are darker beneath her trauma. 

“Yeah.” I say, softly. “It does.” 

“Can you move?” 

No. “Yeah.” I smile, nodding gently, as I lower my arm, and I open my mouth to offer another white lie. “Just a little sore, that’s all.” I say. “Why don’t you-” I swallow the uprising bile that congregates within the over-salivation of my glands, and it scratches upon the ache of my tired throat. “Uh, why don’t you check- Check that, uhm-” I gulp back down my words, rearranging them upon my tongue, as the flaring pulse throughout my entirety finds itself momentarily blinding. Still think you’re winning? Still think you’re winning? “Check the door, Okay?” I say, quietly, and I do not dwell upon the observational quirk of her eyebrow, as Alyssa regards me cautiously, and she retreats her silent footwork. “Try and open it.” I offer her a reassuring (?) kind of smile, crooked, and bloody, but she does not seem to acknowledge it - not anymore - as she approaches the darkened corner of the room; the shadow of the great, steel, door. “Can you do it?” I call, tone impossibly rasped upon the echoing silence around. 

There is the distinct sound of struggling metal, as the door jutts back and forth, stuck strictly within its positioning; locked. “It won’t open.” Alyssa says, quietly, and I wonder just how the little girl remains so consistently composed. Of course, her cheeks are littered with unforgiving layers of drying, and thickly moistened, tears, and her eyes are red raw, wide, and traumatized, but not yet has she… broken. Still, she speaks calmly; still, she bites back her loud sobs, and she contains the shudder of her frame. I can only assume that this gravely resolve will crack very suddenly, one day, and, much the same as the floodgates to an overflowing river, everything will come crashing down upon her city of composure. I do not allow myself to dwell upon this thought, however, as the pressing matter of escaping (preferably before Benjamin regains consciousness) thumps iambically throughout my bodily matter. 

“Try the bolts.” I offer. “Are there any bolts?” 

“No.” She says, distantly, with subtle strain, as though she is poised upon the tips of her toes, attempting to grapple the top of the door frame. “Nothing.” She says. 

“Is there a keyhole?” I try, again, as I bite back a subtle groan. Fire. Fire. Heat, coursing throughout my motionless frame. Can you move? No. No. I cannot. I can hardly breathe, and I-

“Yeah.” She hums. “Right here.” 

In, and out. In, and out. “Okay.” I say, “Keys in the door?”

“No.”

Fuck. There is no need for an IQ of 187 to figure out quite where the missing puzzle piece resides. Benjamin’s belt. The very same belt that he rather enjoyed wrapping around my throat, and observing the silent purple that flared upon the taint of my bloodied, fractured, face, just the evening before. Perhaps it was not evening - the concept of time has evaded me entirely, and I rely solely upon the scent of his breath, to know which meal he has likely devoured, before roaming his way within the… the room. Coffee, and something else particularly sweet (often a pastry, I like to believe) linger upon his words when he speaks, some days, and I know that it is morning. Sometimes the scent of seafood, or a cold sandwich filling, wafts upon my face, and the potent stench of a carbonated drink, with the distant flavour of a cheap beer, and I know that it is midday, or just after the fact. Warm, meaty, scents, with cheap red wine tend to find him delighted, by the time that dinner rolls around, and, I realise, that must mean that it is currently night. 

Hours have since passed, from when he first entered the room, smelling strongly of a meat pie, and a three quarter bottle of cheap, red, wine, and, now, around twenty-five (or so) minutes have slipped through my fingers. Time flies when you’re in agony. Abiding by my own, personally devised, day clock, I might assume that I have been submerged within this room for four days. Almost five, I do suppose, should we not escape before the morning sun rises. Not that we may find out when that is, of course. There are no windows. 

My capture had been no fault other than my own. The ‘case’ (Benjamin Fackle, a serial Child Molester, and Rapist, whom the media deemed the ‘Baby Raper’, and a creature the Police Department have been desperately searching for, for many a month) was not official. His name had not crossed my desk. The team knew of him - of course we did, he was a monster in disguise, and we ached for an invitation to work on the case - but, alas, our company was not beckoned for. I spoke to no one of my private research, my geographical profile, and neither my personal profile, but, with the aid of an unsuspecting Garcia (whom did not know the details of my expertly worded, and secretive, request) I had delved upon the narrowed depiction of three addresses. 

The first, an Orphanage, which had since been demolished, and held not a single occupant, was futile. An easy occupation to discard from my list. And, then, came the second. In possession of my gun (and only my gun, my naivety be damned), with no vest, and no back-up-protection, I entered the grounds. That, among a conundrum of other things, was my first mistake. 

There, waiting for me, among the looming shadows of night, was Benjamin Fackle. Crouched behind the door of an easily concealable blind-spot, I disregarded my Federal training, and I dismissed that damned corner. Always check your blindspots, Agent. I could hear the drilling tone bouncing around my mind, mocking me, much the same as that pulsating heat that continued to rivet around my conscience. You don’t check your blindspots, you’re as good as dead. You hear me? I heard him, alright, but that doesn’t matter, now. Not when it didn’t fall into practice, and I failed to do so when it mattered the most. 

But I simply couldn’t resist it. Not this case. Not this kind of UnSub. 

Not when he has been ripping the innocence from seventy-nine children (and counting), and disregarding them so heart wrenchingly. Not when he has been putting them through the same damned trauma I experienced, as a child. Not this case. Not this UnSub. 

And so I force myself back, upon the brickwork behind me, and I ignore my burning frame with a foolish ignorance, engulfing the movement with stuttered fluidity, as the fragile joint of my wounded, bruised, knees, bend, and they shakingly heave my weakening body from the cold compress of the concrete floor. Up, and down, do the sharp pins flow; around, and around, do the needles pivot, but still, I force myself to stand. I force myself to stand, and my arms hang loosely at my sides; not dislodged, but still not quite intact, still burning violently, still thickly riddled with agony.

I stand, and I rest back upon the brickwork, and I heave my ragged breaths. In, and out, I stutter; in, and out. In, and out, but it aches, and it burns, and I blink slowly. I blink slowly, and I swallow back the protest of my uneasy stomach, that crawls within the salivation of my tight throat, and I force my stuttering frame to take a stumbled step forth. 

Pushing from the wall, I tumble with heavy feet. Mulling within my agony; sharp, shallow, wounds, find themselves imprinting mercilessly about the trembling flesh, inflicting detrimentally upon the complexion, and I almost wish - just for a moment, just for a passing second - that I could halt my breathing. As my legs give out beneath me, and I crumble beside the shallow respire of Benjamin’s still frame, and I swallow down the loud cry that threatens to break through the tight catch of my teeth, as I bite down upon my lips, and I force it down - down, down, down - and I blink back the wave of tears (slowly), and I ignore the heat - God, the fucking heat - that dances, and grips, my aching muscles with piercing ferocity.

I crumble beside Benjamin, and I reach, with trembling, not quite numb, and paling, limbs, for his belt. The clink of the metal upon the stone seems to- it seems to- Alyssa. She lets out a quiet sob, from the corner, and I know what the indication sounds like, as a lump forms in my throat, and I can’t swallow it down, and I fumble with the buckle, and I hope, oh, I pray, that I can find those fucking keys, and I-

Jingle. I drag the metal back, and- Jingle, Jingle. 

A soft, breathy, laugh falls from my mouth, as it contorts to the prologue of a violent sob, and I contort my features, I pinch them as tightly as I suppose that they may allow, and I hold it back- I hold it back, and I swallow the lump, and I press the cool metal of the keys to my chest, and I allow it to vibrate with the shudder of a hollow, dishonest, laugh. A laugh, to fulfil the urge of overwhelming moroseness, and exhaustion, that grapples me so aggressively, I find it difficult to breathe, with my head tipped back, and a glassy shein to my eyes, and I force myself to pull it together. I collect myself, there, upon the concrete, and I call out to the crying girl in the corner. 

“Lissy.” I say, all too quietly for my liking. “Lissy, I’ve-” I swallow my words, as they threaten to exit in a jumbled mess. Oh Fuck, my heart thrums, with lesser the all-consuming fear, and more of the elation, the adrenaline, as the burning heat begins to dissipate, and I suppose that the adrenaline will not last forever. Oh Fuck, Oh Fuck, Oh Fuck. “I’ve got them.” I whisper. “Lissy, I’ve- They’re here, look, I’ve got them-” I stumble to my feet, riddled with the deafening thump of my heart, Oh Fuck, Oh Fuck, Oh Fuck, as it laughs within my ears, and it mocks my auditory joy. It doesn’t burn. It doesn’t ache. I can’t feel a damned thing - nothing but the dizzying beat of my heart, that pumps wildly in my ears. It won’t last long, I think, as I stumble unsteadily on my footing, and I make my way to Alyssa.

It won’t last long.

It won’t last long.

It won’t last long. 

And so I do not bother to comfort the girl, as she cradles her head in her hands, and she ducks it between her bent knees, curled desperately upon the ground, beneath the door, and I do not bother to grow frustrated, as I try the first key of four, and it doesn’t fit. I try the second, and it jams within the lock - not that one - and then the third. The third - oh, the beautiful third - that twists, with jutted prosperity, and it signals the sequence of unlocking metal. 

It doesn’t burn. It doesn’t ache. I can’t feel a damned thing, as I lower myself with unsteadying speed, and I scoop the light girl, trembling, and sobbing, within my arms. My bruised, broken, mangled limbs, and I clutch her to my chest. It doesn’t burn. It doesn’t ache. I can’t feel a damned thing, but I’m winning.

I’m winning. 

I’m winning.

I’m winning. 

I’m winning, as I stumble incoherently through the doorway, and I disregard the nauseating crack, when something collides with the steel of the door, as it chases me through, and I’m winning as I find myself shoving the damned key in the lock, and twisting, and twisting, and leaving it there to rot, and I trap that bastard within those damned, yellow-lit, walls, and I’m winning as I am tumbling through the misleading path of the unfamiliar home. Unfamiliar corners, unfamiliar rooms, unfamiliar sights. But I’m winning. I’m winning. By God, am I winning. 

And I am still winning, as I collide with the front door, and I throw it open, thoughtless for the dutiful ache that is silenced by the thudding in my ears, and I make my way upon the pavement, concealed by the evading darkness that is night, and I begin to stutter my rugged footsteps - bare feet bloodied, and slapping down upon the walkway beneath me - and I hold the girl to my chest. I hold her, and I hold her, and I hold her, and I open my mouth to speak. 

“We’re free, Lissy.” I say, quietly. “Look,” I point above her head, as I glance down upon her whimpering expression, “Look at the stars, baby.” I whisper. “We’re free.” And I know that we are not truly free, that, should my adrenaline, thrumming throughout my entirety, and consuming my conscience in a consistent hum of evading hope, ware off, should the pain settle back in, and the wind stop cooling the persistent burning that peppers moisture aloft my forehead, should everything fall to nothing, and should the morning sun mark the fifth day of my absence, we will not be free. That we will be, perhaps, as good as dead - Always check your blindspots, Agent - within the confinement of unfamiliar roads, and unfamiliar geography, and a town full of unfamiliar people. 

After Benjamin had struck me over the head, a wound that soon sobered up, when he first began the beatings, he had locked me within the boot of his car. I was unconscious for most of the journey, and the back tail light seemed too difficult to kick through, at the time. He had weakened me, considerably, and I found myself unsure as to whereabouts it was that we were going. And, thus, I do not know our current location, either. 

The low hang of the moon does little to console me, as the gush of my blood within my ears begins to slowly dwindle - thump-thump-thump; thump, thump; thump-thump-thump - but, with her cheek rested softly aloft my weightless chest, Alyssa stares up at it; bleary eyed, and consumed. Her stare of wonder gives little away, and I find myself praying, with whatever religion I have left in me, that she may recover. That this traumatic experience may dissipate beneath the life she has yet to live, and that, when the time comes, she will be able to face her trauma, and heal the wound indefinitely. That, one day, she may look up at the moon, and she may not be reminded of what Benjamin Fackle has done to her, and that she may capture the light of the stars within her blue stare, again. That she will regain a form of innocence, and that recovery comes quickly. 

I know that it does not. I know that the pain never truly leaves you, but one can hope. One can hope, and while I am breathing, I hold on to that. 

Just as I hold on to the girl, cradled to my chest, as the thinning beat within my ears begins to fade, and, with every passing second, I find my footing faltering ever-so-slightly. A dreadful kind of suspense begins to well in the pit of my stomach, as a creeping fire begins to erupt, deep within the soles of my bloody feet. It begins in my toes; travels up, up, up, to the uneasy curl of my ankle, the joint bitter in its inevitable damage, and I clench my jaw. I clench my jaw tightly, because I- because I knew that it wouldn’t last long, I knew that it wouldn’t last long, and still, I find myself surprised, frustrated, that the adrenaline is wearing. That, soon enough, I will find myself imobile, constricted by the worst level of pain I will ever endure. Bone, upon bone; fracture, upon fracture; the make-up of my anatomy begs for more adrenaline. 

I push forth. Through the dim lighting of the streetlight - contorting to that of my aggressive dizziness, as the scene frame binds back and forth between the figure of four, and the singular, blurred, picture - I am able to… I can see a-

I sway in my footing, caught by the ferocious burn as it runs up, and it runs down, the joint of my knee; echoing around like the mocking laugh of my slow, steady, heartbeat. Still think you’re winning? It taunts, diving from one ear, circling my head, and protruding through the other, with a sickening giggle to warp it all in between. I grit my teeth, and I ignore it, inhaling shakily through my nostrils. In, I try, and out. But the burning ache has returned, and it drawls its slow, merciless, crawl, up, and up, and up, and up, my entirety; locking in the very cells of my biology, and taunting a dangerous song. 

Oh, how it burns, I swallow thickly; how it aches. 

It burns, and it aches, and I blink slowly, and I raise my foot - up, up, up - and I force it forward. A gentle connection with the floor holds no matter, I comprehend, as a thousand pins scatter about the marrow of my damaged skeleton, and a thousand needles pierce the tranquil complexion of a broken cohesion. It burns, and it aches, but I parry on. I parry on, and I delve myself yet another great number of unsteady stumbles; one foot, then the next, and then another few. I catch myself roughly as I groan out aloud, because, oh, it aches, and oh, it burns, and I blink slowly, and I entice myself to breathe, as I pause. In, my throat rasps upon the cool temperature of the night, and out. 

“Alyssa.” I murmur, gently, as it fills the light air that surrounds us. The girl adjusts her attention, shuffling softly among my grip, and I am unable to swallow the cry that forces its way out, as she regards me with wide, watering, eyes, and I lower her (incautiously) to the ground. She lands with a thud, as her bare feet slap the concrete, and a subtle stumble, as I bend my frame, slightly, and I adhere to an unsteady lumber; contorted by the sheer ferocity of the flames, engulfing my arms with an unforgiving depiction. “Fuck,” I whisper, moreso for the expression, than for any natural effect, and I attempt to regain my posture. In, I rise to my full height, and I ignore the blasphemous heat that licks upon every morsel, every joint, and out. In, I ignore the blissful call of exhaustion’s lesion, as it beckons me slowly, and I flutter my eyes shut, arms hung limp at my sides, and out.  I breathe, and I breathe, and I remain swaying in my place, silently wishing that the damned payphone was not fifteen feet away. 

Still think you’re winning?

Fuck you, am I losing, I spit, internally, and I’m not quite sure who I am fighting, anymore. Benjamin Fackle? My pain? Myself? My exhaustion? Death? It doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter. 

I take another step, and I force myself to contain my expression of pain. I swallow it back, as the salivating gland to the inner corner of my throat begins to over-work, and the sleek bile concoction begins to trail its way up, up, up, through my esophagus, once more, and I feel it beginning to crawl through the burn of my throat. But the payphone is ten feet away, and fuck you, am I losing. 

A rough swallow, and a softly hidden gip; I trudge another few feet upon the cold pathway bellow me, and I pledge my attention solely upon the approaching, smooth, steel of the payphone, enlarging, and imposing, as it draws nearer, and nearer, and nearer; one step, two steps, three steps, four, do I stumble, stuttering gracelessly in my stride as I go, and, oh, the phone is almost here. I reach for it, the sweet, sweet, plastic of bitter salvation, and a gentle cry escapes my mouth as I curl my digits upon it. I’ve got it. I’ve got it. I’ve got it. I’ve got it. 

I’ve got it, and I draw it up, ignoring the flaring heat that roars throughout my entirety, and I allow my trembling grip to pale upon the device; gripping it, gripping it, gripping it, because Holy Fuck, I’ve got it. I’ve got it, but I- I swallow thickly, and I drag my burning frame that little bit closer. I’ve got the phone, and there’s- I check the credit, faintly projected beneath the dim light of the street, and another breathless laugh falls from my mouth, perhaps the first genuine smile gracing my lips, as an unnoticed trail of warm tears track their salty trace down my cheeks. 

One Call Remaining. 

One call remaining, I hover my hand above the metal keypad. I only know one number. I only know one number, but, as I smile, and I sniffle gently to myself, I know that it’s the only number I need, and I dial it - with shaking, aching, fingers, I dial the number, and I clutch upon the rim of the metal compartment with a wavering grip. 

It rings once, twice, three times, and I pray, oh, to any God that may here me, do I pray that he picks up, as the echo of the ringing begins to sound less like the bells of a church, and more like the mocking laugh of someone poking me, prodding: Still think you’re winning? Still think you’re winning? Come on, pick up. Pick up. Pick up. Pick u- 

“Hello?” There he is. Tone thick with sleep, groggy, and deep - down, I notice, but it doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter. He picked up. He picked up. “Hello?” 

“Spence.” I breathe, as another humourless, teary, laugh trickles from my throat. “Oh, my God, Spencer.” 

There is immediate shuffling, across the line, and I can only assume that he is sitting upright, frowning into the dark before him. Perhaps he has switched on his bedside lamp. It doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter. “Y/N?” He rasps, softly, with such a gentleness, I fear that something else hides behind his tone. “Is that you?”

I pause, for a moment, as my expression pinches, and the crumble of agony descends upon my shoulders like the tide upon the shore, and the edge of my eroded cliff begins to fall. “It’s me, Pretty Boy.” I whisper, tone riddled by the repressed lather of edging tears; the misery that threatens to spill. I bite it back, and I relax my contorted expression. I hold it down, and my chest begins to burn, again. It burns, and it aches, and my body is on fire. But he’s here - my Spencer, my Pretty Boy - he’s here, and I am still breathing, and Alyssa is still here, and Benjamin Fackle is not.

I blink slowly, and I swallow down my silent cries, as the warm moisture of irrevocable tears fall solemnly upon my cheeks, and I sniffle it back, as the shuffling continues through the rough auditory of the responding end. 

“Where are you?” He asks, a certain heaviness to his tone that has not been invoked by the influence of exhaustion. He sniffles, and I wipe my moistened mouth with the back of my wrist, ignoring the sudden flare of pain that engulfs my arm, my body, as a soft sound falls from my lips. I could hope that he did not hear it, that my quiet whimper slipped through the cracks of the terrible connection, but I know Spencer. Oh, do I know him, and so, when he gulps audibly, and he stutters over his words, I know that he is entirely aware of my pain. “I- I couldn’t, I’m-” He takes a shaken, deep, breath, and he tries again. “Where, uh- where are you, Y/N?” He asks, quietly, as the explicit ruffle of a breeze picks up on his end, and the distant slam of a door alerts me that he is on the move. I almost smile. Almost, if it were not for the grave buck of my knee, as it gives out, and I half-collapse, and an audible yell falls from my lips, the phone slipping from my weak grip, and tumbling to clatter with the metal of the side panel. 

The sudden glare of invading heat, rupturing between this cell, and that cell, and every damned muscle in between, catches my body in a crampating hold; forcing me down upon a half-crouch, half-bend, as a forty-five degree angle courses through my hot, hot, agonized, frame. “Fuck,” I groan, as I slowly - oh-so-slowly, with a hiss here, and a quiet moan there - drag myself back up, and I place the phone back to my ear. Fuck. The incessant flourish of heat warps my limbs, carries them upon a throne of daggers, and of bruising pellets, and I find myself stifling back a sob, as he immediately interrupts my discomforted quiet. 

“Y/N?” Spencer calls, no less a shout, than an urgent call. “Y/N, what’s going on?” He pleads, not quite bothering to mask the teary tone that he displays. I suppose that Spencer has always been like that - with me, at least - whereby his emotions are so raw, so pretty, that one cannot help being entirely enamoured by the way his tone thickens, and his lower lip trembles, as he forces back his tears, and I cannot help but allow my eyes to flutter shut; to envision his large, brown, eyes, so pretty beneath the glassy shein, and, for the second time, tonight, I allow a thumping thought to re-iterate itself among my pulse. 

This is it, it says, and I am not sure if I am winning, anymore. 

It just- Oh, Oh it hurts, and it aches, and it burns, and I- and I can’t tell if the moisture on my cheeks is from my silent tears, or the precipitation from my hot sweat, but it doesn’t seem to matter. It doesn’t seem to matter, because the urgent calls of Spencer’s thickening concern seem to fade - drifting, drifting, drifting away - and I lose myself within that certain void of semi-consciousness. Slumped upright, against the payphone booth, it pulses in my ears, and it aches, and it burns, and it hurts, and this is it. This is it. This is it. This is how I die, and I’m not sure if I am winning anymore, and I can’t hear my Pretty Boy, and I can’t picture his pretty brown eyes, or his pretty little face, or the soft embrace I could dare to call home, and I can’t think of anything. I can’t- it won’t- it aches, and it burns, and it hurts, and this is it. This is it. This is it. This is it. And I’m not winning anymore. I’m not losing, I’ve gained some sort of victory, along the way, but I can’t see the finish line, and I’m slowing down. I’m slowing down. I’m slowing down. I’m slowing down, and this is it. This is it. This is it. This is it. 

This is it, and small, nimble, fingers, approach my peripheral. Like that slow-motion scene, with distant classical music echoing from the depth of another, airy, room; I watch it take ahold of the phone; watch it disappear, again, and the muffled tone of a child - Lissy Doll, little, little, Lissy Doll - soaks within my senses, devoured like the sweet scent of honey to a sore throat. I hear her, as I slide down the metal of the payphone, and I succumb to the desperate flames; I hear her, but I cannot bring myself to listen. Not as she speaks, with tears - I assume this is what I notice, glimmering upon her pink cheeks, as she cries beneath the moonlight - trailing her face, and she sniffles, and stutters, and she tries to reply as informatively to Spencer as she possibly can. I want to call out to her - want to inform her that this is why she is a good girl, that her unrelenting ability to do the right thing is what makes her good, not her lack of protest, and neither her silence, or her previously dry cheeks. I want to tell her that I am proud of her, as I lower my cranium upon the cold pathway below me, but I am tired.

I am tired, and this is it. 

This is it. This is it. This is it. 

This is it, and I know that Spencer will save her, now. That, although I am not winning, although I have not won, Alyssa is safe. Alyssa will grow to learn her recovery, and she will regain her aforementioned youth. And, as I roll upon my back, my body aroar with flames that ache, and that burn, and that taunt me desperately within my ear, that thank me, profusely, for my sacrifice, I stare up at the sky, and I smile, softly. Benjamin Fackle will be caught, should he catch his breath, and regain his consciousness, and Alyssa will recover. Her mother will hold her little Lissy Doll, once more, and she will be able to watch her child grow old, and she will know that in my death, her daughter found life. I suppose that death is not quite as morbid, when I think of it like this. 

When I ignore the persistent nagging, in the forefront of my mind, as my eyelids droop, and exhaustion overwhelms me, and I pretend that in dying, I would not tear Spencer apart. I pretend, and I pretend, as I attempt to count the stars above me, for I know that I would shred him, limb from limb, and he would never recover. I am not so arrogant as to believe that I hold such power over any other, but Spencer is not just ‘any other’. Spencer - my Spencer - devotes himself, entirely, to the concept of love. He has never told me this - not in words - but- but I know. Love is not something you should ever find yourself questioning, and, if you are, it is not true love. I have never found myself questioning Spencer’s muse of adoration, despite his reluctance to openly admit it (all those months ago), and I know that I am lucky. That Spencer has known far too much pain for someone of such a golden declaration, and that his soul must be woven of the finest silk. There is not a single part of me - not a fraction, not a section - that does not know this, is not consumed by this. But here, as I lie upon the concrete, and Alyssa’s quiet crying forms a background serenade for my slow, painful, death, I wonder if my Pretty Boy would be alright. 

I wonder if Spencer would recover, in time, much the same as Alyssa will, and I wonder if he will accept that it was my fault. That, ultimately, had I not imposed myself upon this unofficial case, and attempted to take matters into my own, foolish, hands, I would not be here, at this moment, dying. And he would not be awoken in the middle of the night, to an Unknown Number, and he would not be met with the pained cry of his tortured partner - a tortured partner that stares up to the stars, as they lay dying, and smiles because they are beneath the same sky as the love of their life, and, well, nothing seems to matter, anymore. 

My body tingles - the kind of tingle that curls, and crawls, throughout your broken skeleton - and I let it dance, drunkenly, through the course of my very being. For when I remain motionless, it doesn’t quite hurt, anymore. Quite, because I am unsure as to whether the tingling is a symptom of forthcoming death - if I am numb, and unable to feel anything, anymore, but it doesn’t matter. 

This is it, and it doesn’t matter, as I stare up at the night sky, and I sketch my Pretty Boy’s face among the stars, and I know that he fits right in, up there, with his soft chocolate hair, that swoops upon the right side of his face, and curls behind his ear; with his perfect little nose, that buttons, and finds itself entirely symmetrical, and the round, gently crinkled, expression of adoration within his wonderfully dark eyes - creased to the edge, as he smiles at me, and I lose myself in his adoration. And I think that if I am to die tonight, beneath the stars, with the vision of Spencer glancing down upon me with nothing but pure love, and affectionate warmth, I think that I am to die happy. 

“Lissy,” I call, softly, and I hear her murmur something to my Spencer. I am unsure as to how long the credit will remain, though I assume it will not be forever, as Alyssa turns to face me, and I offer her a genuine, toothy, smile. “Can I speak to him?” I ask, quietly, and I can hardly recognize my own voice, beneath the rasp of my naked throat, and the relief that courses through my frame from the numbness that dying provides. “Please?” Please, may I bid my farewell?

Alyssa doesn’t say anything, with yet another sniffle, and she speaks another bundle of words that I do not quite catch, as she lowers herself to kneel beside me, the chord of the phone almost entirely outstretched, and she places the receiver to my ear, and the speaker to my chapped, smiling, lips. “Y/N?” I hear, as I see him amongst the stars, and my eyes crinkle at the notion, bewitched by a toothy, genuine, grin. The phone is cold, and I blink slowly up at the sky. 

“Hey, Pretty Boy.” I say, quietly. “I miss you.”

There is hardly a pause, though I notice that the wind is no longer present upon the static of his end. “I don’t- I’m-” He catches his words, and he rearranges them. He doesn’t know what to say, but I let him take his time. “Why would you do that?” He hisses, softly, after a moment and there is a returning thickness that bubbles in his throat. I hear him swallow, but it doesn’t quite seem to do anything, at all, as he continues, and he sniffles back his tears, slightly. “Why wouldn’t you tell anyone?” He asks. Not scolding, not angrily, more of the bitter mourning, and the grief, that wraps upon his tone, and I find myself swallowing my honesty, for the moment. 

“Can you see the sky, Spencie?” I evade, staring up at the constellations that form before me, as he shuffles, and his silence echoes back to me. “Can you see the stars?”

“Y/N-” His voice trembles, but I cut him off.

“I’m not winning, anymore, Spence.” I say, a mere whisper upon the silent street around us. “I’m not losing.” I continue. “But I’m- I’m not winning, either.”

“What?” He mumbles, voice thick with tears, and I envision them tumbling down his face. Another shuffle breaks forth, and I assume that he has wiped his cheeks. My chest begins to ache, again, as I picture the subtle furrow of his eyebrows, and the way his tongue will run over the pout of his trembling lower lip, as he exhales through his cheeks, and he sniffles with his pretty nose, and I smile, softly, into the night, and, despite the dense knowledge that I will not, I hope that I will make it. That this isn’t it. But, deep down, I know that it is, and thus, I continue.

“I want you to-” I swallow back the uprising hiss, as I move my jaw somewhat to animatedly, and a flare of heat erupts in my throat, and I speak quieter, as I try again, and I know that Spencer’s expression is pinched. “I want you to take care of Lissy, alright?” I say. 

Silence. 

“Spencer, promise me.” I whisper. “I need you to do that for me.” 

“Why would-” He delves a shaky inhale, “Why would I have to do it?” He says. “You’re gonna be fine, Y/N.” He continues, a tremble to his tone, “You’re gonna be Okay. You’re gonna walk away from this, just fine, and Alyssa’s gonna have access to as much help as she needs, and we- and we’re gonna be just fine, Okay?” I want to shake my head, I want to interrupt his self indulged, dishonest, ramble, and I want to stop him - want to reach out, and hold him, and to assure him that he will recover - but this is it, and time is simply not on my side. 

“Spencer.” I call, softly, and he falls to immediate silence; his breathing inconsistent, and shaken. “I’m not winning, anymore.” I repeat, and I know that he has gathered together the missing pieces. “I’m not.” I say. “And- and it hurts.” I whisper. “It hurts, and I’m tired-”

“I know, baby,” He says, gently, as he gulps in a trembled lungful of air, and he swallows down the lump in his throat, and he tries to speak again. “I know you’re tired, and I know that you’re in pain, but you can hold on. I know you can, Y/N, come on.” He says. “Fight.” And a quiet, almost silent, whimper leaves my lips, until the stars are all a blanket of ill-lit darkness, and I can hardly comprehend his grief as he speaks again. “Please.” He whispers. “You’ve gotten through the worst of it, and if you- if you don’t move, and you stop talking, and you preserve your energy, you’ll be fine. You can survive another three minutes, and twenty four seconds, can’t you?”

A breathless, teary, laugh falls from me, then, and I ignore the blistering fire that erupts throughout my body. “Calculated to the second.” I tease, softly, “How ingenious of you, Doctor.” 

He reciprocates my watery laugh, though riddled with far less enthusiasm than I, and he mutters his quiet response: “I do have an IQ of 187, and an-”

“And an eidetic memory.” I finish, smiling toothily to myself, despite the chorus of flames that attempts to swallow me whole. “I know, Spencer.” I say. “And I know that you don’t think intelligence can be quantitatively measured.”

“No.” He says, “I don’t.” 

“And I know that you-” I gulp back the concoction of bile, and I try it again, a certain hoarseness about my tone. “I know that you can read twenty-thousand words per minute, and that you don’t much like the taste of coffee, so you- you pour the whole bag of sugar in there-”

“I do not-”

“You do, Pretty Boy.” I smile, and, beneath the soft crackle of the reception, I hear a low rumble of agreement. 

“She’s right.” They say, a grin to their tone, and I know that voice. Oh, I know it well.

“Is that Morgan?” I rasp, softly, and I smile up at the sky, as the man in question offers his greeting. 

“Hey, Babygirl.” He says, with that same kind of warmth that Derek seems to consistently radiate. My chest aches, again, and I realise that I do not want this to be it. It aches, and the charred flavour of my burning sternum crawls back upon my tongue, and it nestles there, as he offers a question of less-than-casual-conversation. “How you holdin’ up?” He asks. 

“Great, actually.” I joke, as I offer a kind smile to Alyssa, and she runs her nimble, small, fingers through my hair, and she reciprocates the gesture, ascending her gaze back to the stars, as she goes. “If you consider two-” I let out a low cough, as the concoction of bile seeps beneath my tongue, and it- I heave, abruptly, and I force myself to twist to the side, unloading whatever the fuck was left, rejected, amongst my stomach. The wet splatter of blood, and of bile, of mucus, and salivation, coaxes the pavement, a mere few inches away, as I retreat, slowly, back to the receiver of the phone, and I dismiss the neverending roar of flames, engulfing my body, still, as I sink back into my vertical position, and I return to the conversation.

“Y/N?” Spencer calls, a thickened tone of worry conveying about his voice. 

“I’m fine.” I lie. “Just a little, uh-” I swallow back the coppery aftertaste, and I offer Alyssa another gentle smile. “Nauseous.” I murmur. 

“Nauseous?” Spencer repeats. “Do you have a fever?” 

“I don’t have the flu, Spence,” I dare to jest, “It’s probably just something to do with my two dislocated, and relocated, shoulders. Or, maybe my- maybe my (probably broken) ankle, and the-” Another strained groan falls from me, as Alyssa slumps herself down upon the pathway, and she (accidentally) knocks the jolt of my displaced shoulder, a great POP echoing out from such a sudden movement. Fire. Heat. Hot, hot, hot; it licks away at the joint, and I let out a great, stifled cry, as she attempts to place her palm upon it, and I- “Fuck!” I cry, “Don’t touch it, Lissy, don’t-” I swallow down another yell, as the fire runs up, and down, up, and down, the length of my arm; pins and needles carouselling their way about the wounded flesh. “Don’t touch it. Please.” I implore, quietly, as I attempt to return to the phone, and I retrain my gaze upon the stars, slurry, and unfocused, for all its worth, as I find myself woozy beneath the beckon of exhaustion, once more. 

“What was that?” Spencer pleads, as he holds the speaker somewhat too close to his mouth, and my head naturally jerks away from the volume of his cry. Another rip of gravely flames engulf my figure, as I strain myself to lower the extent of my groan, but it- Fuck, does it hurt. It aches, and it burns, and it licks up the fruit of my torture. “Y/N?” He calls, again, “What was that popping? Was that a joint?” 

I grit my teeth, and I exhale through them roughly. In, I breathe, and out. “My shoulder, Spence.” I murmur, “Fuck- Please-” I do not want this to be it. I do not want this to be it. I do not want this to be it. The thump of my heart begins to pick up, and I withhold the uprising sob that threatens to break through. I do not want this to be it. “Please tell me you’re bringing an ambulance.” I murmur, and I hope that my insinuation is correct.

“They’re on the way.” He says. “We all are.”

“All?” I mutter, quietly.

“All of us, Babycakes.” Morgan says. “Don’t tell me you thought we’d be able to sleep, with your face on the news, like that.” 

“I was on the news?”

“Headlining.”

“Great.” I scoff, “My big media break, and it’s the one thing that’ll have me fired.”

“It was a preposterous idea!” Spencer cuts in. “Going in alone, like that. You know that above ninety-seven percent of women are sexually assaulted? In their day-to-day lives? Why would you purposely search for a rapist? Why would you do that without back-up? I- I bet, I bet with every fibre of my being, that you didn’t check your blind spot.” He says, and I feel a certified something stir within the depth of my stomach, and pool deep within, for, oh, he knows me so well, and, and I- “You never check your blindspot. I do it for you, because I know that you’ll forget, but Y/N- fuck.” He says, and his breath shakes as he releases it. “And you know, you know that you are required, by law, to wait for back-up, when you do not have your vest, or any other form of protection. Y/N, we didn’t even know that you had worked on this case, never mind that you had gone to visit the UnSub by yourself-”

“He was out of his depth, Spencer.” I defend, quietly. I say it quietly, because it aches, and it burns, and it hurts. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts, and he listens to me, anyway, and he lets out a shaky inhale, as I speak. “It wasn’t in the Profile for him to do something that ballsy-”

“Well, clearly your profile was inaccurate.” He snaps, a certain edge to his tone that I find myself unfamiliar with, as I recoil, slightly, and I ignore the flare of heat that congregates about my body. “If you hadn’t-” He pauses, and another trembled breath is to follow: In, and out. “Y/N, I just- I’m- I’m scared, alright? I’m worried. I don’t know your physiological, or psychological, condition, right now, and I’m- it’s just-” Another stuttered inhale. “This isn’t easy, Okay?”

“I know, Spence.” 

“I don’t hear from you for four days, twenty-two hours, and thirty-nine minutes, roughly fourteen seconds, and you’re the headline for the news. MISSING: Federal Agent, Y/N Y/L/N, Last Seen in Quantico Virginia, at the Behavioural Analysis Unit Headquarters.” He recites, and I know that it has plagued the back of his eyelids like a lingering, bad, smell, ever since. “You know where you were last seen, Y/N? You were last seen with me, that’s where. And I can’t forget what that headline says, it is biologically impossible, and I can’t stop seeing it every time I close my eyes, and I- and I can’t stop thinking about how, should I have stayed with you for another four hours, or so, you wouldn’t have chased this UnSub, and you would be here, right now, and I wouldn’t be turning down the street, to find you sprawled out on the floor - because I know that’s what you’re doing - in agony, and feeling as though death is knocking at your door, and-”

“Breathe, Pretty Boy,” Morgan cuts in, “Breathe.”

But he doesn’t pause long enough to listen. “And I can’t-” His voice cracks, slightly, and my chest burns, it aches, as the subtlety of silent tears stream down the sides of my face, and they pool within the roots of my hair. “And I can’t listen to you, here, talking to me like you’ll-” He grapples a broken inhale, and he stutters amongst his breathing, and I hear the tears on his tongue. I hear them. I hear them. “-like you’ll never see me again. Like this call is some sort of goodbye.” 

“I don’t want this to be it.” I say, gentler than I feel I have ever spoken, before, and Spencer offers his words of protest. 

“It isn’t!” He exclaims, with a thick bitterness to his tone. Not quite directed at me, though the agony to his own constricting chest is evident. I find myself accustomed to the flavour of my burned sternum, as it rests upon my tongue, and I do not attempt to protest amongst his continuation, as he cries, and he parries on. “Fuck,” He whispers, and I envision him wiping away the fresh moisture of his expression, once again, as a quiet shuffling invokes upon the line. “This isn’t it. We’re-” He lets out a breath. “Can you hear us?” He asks. “We’re almost there.” 

The distant wail of crying sirens engulfs my senses, paired with the static white noise of Spencer's anticipation, and I find my mouth up-tilting, ever so slightly. “Yeah.” I say. “I can hear you.” And maybe, just maybe, this isn’t it. Maybe Spencer - maybe my Pretty Boy Spence - is right. He is rarely wrong, that much may I agree, but he is not always accurate in his future depictions. For once, I find myself thinking, I hope that he is right. 

“Good.” He says, perhaps more so to himself, than to me, as he repeats the notion, and he steadies his erratic breathing. “Good, Okay. We’re turning onto your street, now.” He says. “Can you see us?”  The wailing sirens approach, they engulf the silence of the night, as they blare, and they scream, and they fall louder, and closer, and louder, and closer, and the stars all morph together, into one illuminated band of darkness, and the sirens blare on, growing louder, and closer, and louder, and closer, and- “Y/N?” Spencer calls.

“The sirens.” I murmur, distractedly, as they ricochet around my mind, and they bounce from one fragment of my inner skull, to the other, and they roll impotently about the curve of the bone. “They’re-” Louder, and closer, and louder, and closer. “They’re noisy.” I say, and I doubt that he can comprehend the gentle tone to which I depict, as the wail of the siren cry calls out, and a sudden screech falls present upon their hellish song.

Spencer does not reply, and I listen to the white noise - the white noise that grows distant, as the wailing aubade of the ambulance approaches - and, then, a chorus of footsteps consume my auditory senses.

I know my lover not by his footfall, but by the way in which he collapses, immediately, at my side, and his large, warm, hand, cusps at my broken cheek, and he observes me closely. And it aches, and it burns, but, oh, there he is. There he is, with a furrow to his straightened eyebrows, and a glassy film aloft his beautiful, warm, orbs - reduced to circles of worry, of anguish, as he observes my… my state of being - and I measure the map of his features, I blister them among the roof of my mind, as though I have not looked upon them fondly a thousand times before, and I offer my lover a soft, closed-mouth, smile. I offer him a smile, and I ache to run my fingers across his parted lips, to recall the feel of his skin, his perfect, perfect, complexion, and the symmetrical span of his face. In this moment, I want nothing more than to feel the weight of his body, sprawled out upon me, as my arms wind around his neck, and I embrace my Spencer, and we pretend that all the trauma of the world does not exist, and we love, and we love, and we love. 

I watch the rapid descent of his features, and I gather that he wishes he knew nothing of my physiological well-being, if the subtlety of my pained cries aloft the phone were quite enough to reduce him to tears, and my fingers itch. They itch, they itch, and they itch, to run through the smooth flow of his hair, to brush it away from his pretty little features, and to assure him that: Hey, Pretty Boy, it’s alright. I’m alright. It’s going to be fine. Just fine, Okay? This isn’t it, I was wrong. I was wrong, Okay? This isn’t it, Pretty Boy. Come on. Come on, Pretty Boy, wipe those cheeks. It’s going to be just fine. It’s alright. It’s going to be fine, Pretty Boy. Okay? Okay. 

But eyes, red raw, and leaking, stare down at me, and I know that to speak such words would be nought but a cruel spell of dishonesty. I’m not winning, anymore. 

Trembling fingers work their way through the matted knots of my hair, brushing back the locks from my face, as they flail out upon the pathway beneath me, and Spencer shudders a quiet sigh. “Hey,” He greets, simply, as though he is not attempting to swallow his raging heart, that threatens to break through the lump in his throat. As though he is not on fire, with burning self-hatred (just like I know that he is), and gritting his teeth to prevent any upcoming sobs. As though I am not destroying him, as we speak. As though I am Okay, as though I am still winning. “Can-” Another shaken, stuttered, inhale, “Can you move?” He asks, and I gulp back the remainder of the bile concoction that has yet to bid me farewell. Can you move? No. No. I cannot. I can hardly breathe, and I-

I shake my head, gently, and I attempt to ignore the corrupting fire that, still, nibbles away at the aching flesh of my body, and I- “It hurts.” I repeat, no less than a whimper upon the business of the night. Blue light carousels around the darkness, illuminating the scene in an azure of flashing cerulean, but I see nothing other than the glassy brown of his wide, fearful, eyes. “It hurts, Spencer.” I say, and I am not quite sure just what it is that hurts, anymore, as my vision blurs, and the warmth of something hot, something wet, trails upon my broken cheeks. 

“Shh,” He whispers, tone thickened by the tally of his own violent tear-shed, as he strokes the pad of his calloused thumb aloft my moistened complexion. “Shh,” He says, “I know.” But it aches, and it burns, and I can hardly breathe, once again. “I know, baby, it’s alright.” He says. “I’m here. I’m right here, Okay? Ri- right here.”

 But that- it doesn’t- it doesn’t seem to matter, as he trails the dampness of my sopping cheeks, and his salty tears trickle down his throat. It doesn’t matter. Doesn’t matter. Doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter, because this is it. And, as a certain warmth begins to sprinkle upon the curve of my toes, and the quiet patter of uniformed feet scurry upon the pathway, and the roll of a- of the- stretcher? Of the stretcher. Oh, the stretcher. It aches, and it burns, and Spencer seems awfully beautiful, beneath the gaze of the moon, and my eyes- they ache, and they burn. 

The angel that hangs above me, my very own offering from heaven (an offering, a fraction, like the stars, from the sun) and I think he has never looked more bittersweet in his beauty, than he does tonight, displayed beneath the moonlight. Displayed beneath the moonlight, as though he is carved, sculpted, so effortlessly, by the most callous, talented, hands that the Gods ever did have to offer. I swallow back my prosperity, as the shein upon my eyes begins to dwindle, and I consider whatever religion I have left, inside of me. I consider it, and I come to realise, as my adoration for this angel, for this sweet, sweet, lover of mine, paints itself in poetry upon my tongue, that all of my religion is made up of him. That he tastes like the body of Christ, or whomever my heart has decided is unworthy of worship in the presence of my Spencer, and he has stained my lungs with the scent of his forgiveness.

He is the religion that I have left, and I fall to my knees before him. As he furrows his eyebrows, and everything seems to dim, and the stars lose their spark, and I am wrapped- wrapped up, up, up, in a tingling sensation, that crawls around, and around, my entirety, and dissolves the fire, relishes the flames; that runs its hand through my hair, and threatens to succumb me to exhaustion.

This is it, I think, and I bore my stare into the warmth of Spencer’s darkening expression. His mouth, that hangs open, and shapes the body of words I cannot hear, but look a lot like my name, and the sirens of the world around, they all fall to nothing. 

This is it, and I am consumed entirely in something that feels a lot like him. A lot like my Pretty Boy. A lot like Spencer. For it is warm, and it runs a steady hand through my hair, and it caresses my cheek, and I am- I am Okay. Just for this moment, I decide, I am Okay. The dull shadow of my gaze seems to darken, and the world around collapses, and I hear nothing. But I am Okay. I hear nothing; no buzz, no fuzz of the white noise, but I am Okay, and, in a strangely comforting anonymity, I allow myself to sway along with it’s somber aubade. For what, in life, is more beautiful than the transition? Than the end? 

This is it, and I am Okay, and it does not hurt, as I indulge a final glance upon my lover, before me, and I strain my arm - my somewhat re-located joint, that doesn’t ache, and doesn’t burn, beneath the symphony that is my love - and I raise it up, up, up, and I cup at the curve of his trembled, tear-stricken, cheek. I hear him not, as he whispers to me, softly, and I do not dispel the announcement of my adoration, as I draw him closer to me, and he follows without question. Without question, because my Pretty Boy is not naive. Because my Pretty Boy knows, all to well, the prologue of agony, and, as he leans in to the heart of my hand, and his sopping wet features pinch with the repression of bitten back sobs, and he approaches, and he nears, and his warm, trembled, breath fans my lips, as it all takes place, and the world falls away, my Pretty Boy knows that this is it. That I am not winning, anymore. 

He knows, he knows, he knows. 

He knows, and his mouth is warm, is familiar, as it peppers its soft affection upon the wounded pout of my lips, and he cries his salted tears, that melt upon my damaged complexion with anger, and with poorly consumed rage, and he damns the cruel taste of fate, as it settles within his lungs. He knows, as he withdraws his fragile expression, and a gust of cold, frigid, air, wraps upon the flesh of my parted mouth, and his tongue darts upon his lower lip, and catches a bout full of tears. He knows. He knows. Oh, how he knows. And, as those very same lips bless the blood of my forehead with a ginger, angelic, kiss, and they press upon the skin with shaken certainty, our notion of adoration feels more like a goodbye, than an ‘I Love You’. But there doesn’t seem to be much of a difference, anymore, as I watch, through hooded eyes, and a numb, drifting, body, and I observe the violent tremble of his frame, his hunched shoulders, as he looms above me, and he cradles my face within his large hands. 

There isn’t any difference, because this is it. 

This is it, and I stutter through my final breath, and my half-lidded eyes absorb the dark nothingness before them for one final time. 

This is it.

This is it, and I’m not winning, anymore. 

[lovecanbesostrange]

#is it too late to write 2k words of how Ruby stays chained up and turns and she's in control yet scared but Belle stays with her NO!!! It is never too late for red beauty content

Is this a dare or are you just mocking me?

But, well, okay, let's go back to that night in the library then, shall we?

(under a read more, but also up on AO3 now)

Ruby frantically went through the rooms, making sure all the windows were shut, nobody else was here and she knew the layout of the place. But Belle was still here, that was not good. She needed to go, lock the main entrance from the outside.

"You need to leave. The moon's going to be up soon."

Belle didn't made any effort to go, instead she followed Ruby around. "But will the chains hold?"

"Hopefully." Like a familiar tune another conversation about chains played out in Ruby's head. Familiar and devastating. Those chains did hold. But only because they held a human back, leaving him defenseless.

"Then, I'm staying." Belle's determined tone stopped Ruby in her tracks. She was so upbeat and positive, as if this wasn't about a beast showing up any minute, who could tear her to shreds. Belle reached out, not just mentally, but physically now. Ruby felt the hands on her shoulders, a gesture to spark comfort. "Think of it as girls' night."

Ruby was at a loss for words. Belle was so cheery about all of this. So unfazed by the horror of the situation. Was this how Peter had seen her? When she convinced him he might be the wolf and he was ready to be tied up and send her away, but Red had stayed with him. Unintentionally dooming him to a grim death. Red had felt the same determination to stay with him that Belle showcased now. It was such a weird switch in perspectives. Except Ruby knew much, much better now.

Slowly Ruby backed away, breaking contact with Belle, who finally showed concern, but not in the way Ruby wanted. "What's wrong?"

How could Ruby explain all of this? The way her heart ached, because of a lost love, a life taken and now also because this thing might happen again. May have in fact happened again. Belle hadn't seen Billy's body. Belle didn't know how easily werewolf fangs tore human bodies in half. Belle didn't know that deep inside of Ruby a monster lurked. And that every bit of self-doubt made it stronger. That only self-acceptance could tame it and Ruby had run out of that this morning in front of the cannery. Why was she the only one that was afraid?

"I know David wants to believe the best, but I've killed before, and I'll do it again." Ruby picked up the chains, the rattling sound a faint promise of safety. "Everyone in this town is right to be afraid of me."

"Okay, well I'm not."

"You should be!" Ruby almost yelled back instantly. How did Belle not understand this? This was about her life! People outside gathered in a mob to hunt for a wolf and they were right. Because if Ruby had killed Billy, the sweet mechanic who always smiled and was up for a chat, then anybody could be next.

But Belle didn't budge. She didn't give in a single inch and Ruby stared at her. Trying to figure out what to do. "No matter what you might've done in your past, David sees the good in you and-" A slight pause, Belle's face was perfectly calm, her eyes warm and her lips twitched into a reassuring half-smile for a second. Just looking at her twisted Ruby's inside. "And that tells me one thing."

"What?" She was skeptical, because Belle didn't listen to reason, making up her own theories here. Ruby had on of the cuffs in her hand. Thinking back to Peter a thought formed. He would have been safe if Red had gone away. Maybe this was how she could keep Belle from getting hurt. Put this on her and leave. The building was secure. And the people outside took the risk serious enough to end the threat once and for all.

"That it's in there." Belle kept going, while taking a step forward. Stepping into Ruby's personal space again, closing this gap to show how serious she was about not being afraid. "So if we can all see it, why can't you?"

"You really think so?" All Ruby wanted was to believe Belle. Believe in her kind words, her trust that the wolf wasn't the problem.

"Trust me. I'm sort of an expert when it comes to rehabilitation."

Ruby looked at Belle. Her face. The utter and unfaltering support. The way her eyebrows moved, the corner of her mouth pulling up radiating optimism and just those gentle eyes.

"Maybe. Maybe you're right." Ruby played with the cuff. Now or never. She could leave Belle to safety and make a run for it. She deserved whatever the mob had in store for her.

But under Belle's gaze she faltered. For a split second she wanted to believe her so much, that she closed the cuff around her own wrist. She had only met this type of kindness once before and it overwrote her will towards self-destruction long enough to change her course of action.

"But you do need to leave." Ruby closed the second cuff and pulled at the chains a bit, the weight was noticeable, but she was worried if the pipe was sturdy enough.

Belle smiled. "I'm staying and now you can't throw me out anyway." She took Ruby's hands into her own. "I'll get you through this. And tomorrow you'll see that you worried for nothing. David will find out the truth."

Ruby ground her teeth. It was too late now. She could only hope history was not about to repeat itself. The literal hand-holding was maybe too much, but it had a calming effect. Ruby was not alone, even though she should be, while also not wanting to be. This whole day had taken a lot of energy from her and it was nice to surrender for a moment. But she needed to focus and let go of Belle.

When Ruby grabbed the other cuffs that were supposed to go around her ankles, Belle intervened.

"Wait, you need to straighten those out first, they're all twisted. You'll make it worse for yourself."

"That's kinda the point."

Again Belle gave her that sympathetic half-smile. "The point is to keep you locked up, not to strangle yourself. I have had my share of uncomfortable nights in chains."

Under any other circumstances Ruby would have a question about that, but she only stood there and let Belle straighten out the chains like christmas lights. She then knelt down to put the cuffs on. All Ruby did was raiser her feet one after the other a bit to help.

"All set?", Belle asked.

Ruby yanked at the chains, the pipes didn't give in. And the chain connecting her wrists and ankles now restrained her movement. The wolf would not be able to make huge leaps in those, even if it broke loose. She leaned against the wall and slowly glided down. "The last one around me, please?"

Now she had to look up at Belle and her stomach turned once more. Was this how Peter had felt? She remembered vividly helping him into the chains, securing him against the tree. Both believing it was the right thing to do. She remembered her love for him and the trust he wouldn't hurt her. Like Belle trusted her now contrary to all evidence.

A bit of shame rose up in Ruby, battling with her nervousness. She had given Belle a crash-course in everyday life in Storybrooke, but avoided any question about her pre-curse persona. And now here they were. Because of the wolf. If she had warned Belle from the start, she wouldn't be so insistent now on helping and staying. She wouldn't be crawling around on the floor of her library to fasten chains around Ruby.

"Done." Belle squatted in front of her.

Ruby had pulled her knees up to her chin and hugged her legs. "Please go?" It was more of a question than a request and Ruby knew the answer already anyway. Because Peter had said the same. And she had stayed. For him.

Belle cocked her head to the side, rubbing Ruby's leg for a moment. "I'm responsible for what happens in the library. And if my friend is chained up in here, I'm responsible for her, too." She brushed a strand of Ruby's hair behind her ear and locked eyes.

Ruby took a deep breath in. She could feel the beast creeping closer, the moon was rising. "But get back. Get to the door." She mustered every ounce of command she could. "You have to!"

Belle got up and stepped away. She made her way to the main entrance backwards, never taking her eyes off of Ruby. And Ruby felt exposed. It was time. The beast was near. The wolf wanted out. What was it that made her black out last night? She had been in the freezer and woken up in the woods. She remembered nervous pacing and endless worry. She had rejected the reality of what was happening. The thing Anita had warned her about.

The wolf was her, she was the wolf. Different, but the same. She was the beast, with fangs and claws and animal instincts. All of that monstrous potential. It was all her. All a part of her. Under her control.

Ruby turned. Her senses grew sharper, the noises and smells that already had been loud and clear, became more distinct. The strength that put her above normal humans was now fitted with all the right muscles. And there was an immediate need to move, to run, to use those muscles and to get outside. A want for fresh air and dirt under her paws.

Ruby threw herself against the chains and let out a howl. Belle had to press her hands against her ears, because the closed space wasn't the best place for such a noise. But the howl turned into a low whine, when Ruby kept struggling. The cuffs cut into the skin, not fitting her legs as well as a minute ago. And the chain around her body kept her from any decent movement. She was trapped. This was terrible. And Ruby panicked.

Deep down she knew this was what she had wanted. To be tied up in a way that would not allow her to escape. But the craving for freedom in her wolf form was far stronger than any human reason. This was the thing with being a wolf. Some things felt different.

"Ruby?"

Belle's voice reached her as she tried to get up on all four paws, but the chain yanking her back towards the wall.

"Ruby? Are you okay?"

Ruby barked. Once. A warning. She couldn't come closer! She growled, but also tried to retreat, she needed to make sure she was far away from Belle, right? This was her friend, she was in danger from something. Ruby needed to stay away.

When Belle stopped moving so did Ruby. She looked at her. If she stayed away all was right. Nothing bad would happen. If she stayed still herself Belle was safe. Ruby tried another approach and tried to lie down. The chains pressed against her body in various spots, but she managed. She pulled her ears back, flattened herself as best as she could and whined.

"Ruby?"

She only moved her ears in confirmation. Belle's face spelt surprise. But Ruby couldn't read if it was a good or a bad thing.

"I get it now, where the big part in big bad wolf comes from." Ruby growled and bared her teeth for a second. "No, no, you're not bad. Definitely not bad. But kinda big." Her furrowed brow smoothed out and she put a smile back on. "You are a big wolf. And I don't think that's the same as being a monster."

Ruby pointedly turned her head, not looking at Belle anymore. But she could hear her sitting down. And then a few moments of silence. Until a soft rustle piqued her interest. Belle was pulling out books from the shelf she leaned against.

"Sorry, I'm still reorganizing things. Some of these shelves don't make any sense to me." Her eyes darted over the back of a few books, skimming the contents. "The good thing is there is lots to discover I have never heard of." She held up a thick volume. "Here, an anthology with short stories and I don't even know any of these writers. Bradbury, Vonnegut, Ellison, Le Guin. Any of these names mean something to you?"

Ruby dared a quick tail wag, because buried in her false memories was reading Fahrenheit 451 as a school assignment. Belle put the book down and pulled out a much thinner one.

"The Last Unicorn." Ruby lifted her head. "Oh, someone we know? Maybe I should take that into consideration. Rearranging the fairy-tales and stories with people we've met."

She opened the book and started to read. "The unicorn lived in a lilac wood, and she lived all alone. She was very old, though she did not know it, and she was no longer the careless color of sea foam but rather the color of snow falling on a moonlit night. But her eyes were still clear and unwearied, and she still moved like a shadow on the sea." Belle had a soothing tone that made Ruby forget the cuffs cutting into her skin, the chains hindering her from moving and biting into her body. She wasn't supposed to be comfortable. And Belle wasn't supposed to be here and definitely not reading to her.

There were people outside hunting for a bloodthirsty wolf and yet, Ruby was inside, hidden away, listening to the story of a lonely creature searching for her family. Belle looked up every so often, giving different voices to the characters and making facial impressions, but not disturbing the flow with comments on the plot. Ruby was too focused on her that she didn't even hear footsteps coming closer and she was startled when the door to the library was pushed open.

"We've got it!" David shouted, holding up Ruby's red signature cloak. "And you're cleared. It was all Spencer."

Granny followed, still some fury on her face. "He tried to frame you, so David would look bad. But we got him." Granny's grin gave away that she had used the crossbow in her hand.

"That's fantastic," Belle said as she got up. "See, no need to worry."

"Everything okay in here?", David asked when he slowed down as he approached Ruby.

"Nothing happened. I don't think she even needed the chains."

David threw the cloak over Ruby and the second she turned back, she hugged him. "Thank you, David."

"No, thank you for not doing something reckless. I've told you, I believe in you."

They both know the thing that wasn't said in this moment. That Snow had believed in her first and if she had been here, things would have been different. And with that Ruby noticed that David was holding back something else.

"What happened?"

"We can talk about that tomorrow." His smile wasn't completely genuine, but Ruby let it slide. She felt a weight lift off of her chest. Literally, because Belle had opened the lock on the chain keeping her down. David held out a hand to help her get up.

He stepped back. "I have to get back to Henry."

Ruby tried to pull the cloak tighter, but the chains prevented it and Belle took her hands. Again. "Let me." She held up the key. "This is the best part." And for what felt like the first time in years, but it had probably been only a day, Ruby smiled back at her.

When the chains fell down she immediately hugged Belle. All the worries about keeping a safe distance forgotten. The beast had been contained, in fact there was no beast to fear at all and her friend had stayed through it all. How lucky to have friends who believed in her more than she did herself.

Granny cleared her throat. "Are you coming home or are you going for a midnight run, now?"

Ruby looked at her over Belle's shoulder, still holding on and enjoying the way Belle hugged back firmly. "Run", was her simple answer.

And as sudden as they had come in, David and Granny vanished again, leaving the two alone.

"A midnight run?", Belle asked as she put the books back on the shelf, except for The Last Unicorn.

"Yes. That's all I could think about."

"And you remember everything that happened, while...", she gestured to where Ruby had been lying down so miserably.

The self-consciousness returned. "I hope I didn't scare you."

Belle laughed. "I was only scared for you, not of you. That looked unpleasant." She pouted.

"It was." Ruby picked up the book and thumbed through the pages, trying to find where they had left off and put a piece of paper in almost halfway through. "Will you read the rest to me?"

Belle took the book from her, lingering a bit when their fingers brushed. "I wanna know how this ends."

"This?"

"It. How it ends."

Ruby had seen a flashlight in the utility room earlier and quickly picked it up. "So, you want to join me?" She offered it to Belle. "A stroll through the woods?"

This night there was a wolf running around the woods surrounding Storybrooke. Circling around a woman wearing the well-knows red riding hood. When Belle sat down, Ruby put her head on her legs, enjoying a scratch between the ears and listening to the rest of the story. Maybe there was hope for finding companions when you thought you were the only one of your kind.

[zambie-trashart]

I Don’t Own an IPhone: Wanna Trade? 4

Masterlist

Previous: “Lila must have been akumatized again,” Nino said getting up and dragging Jon out of the store.“Let’s fix this,” Adrien said to Alya and Chloe who rolled their eyes.“Don’t think we didn’t see the way you were staring Jon up and down, it wasn’t cute,” Alya said as Trixx came out of her jacket.“Seriously Adriekins, do you even know what you want?” Chloe asked putting her comb in her hair.“Women,” Adrien sighed. “Plagg claws out!”

AHHHHHHH this was supposed to come out yesterday but I forgot to que it!

Chapter 4: Turtles and Dinner Dates

Pollinator and Hoodwink glared at Chat as they jumped through the city chasing after the akumatized Lila.

Jon watched in bewilderment  as Nino’s hand tightened on his wrist dragging him through back alleyways in the opposite direction. “Nino, where are we going? Alya, Chloe, and Adrien are still back at the cafe,” Jon asked pulling back against Nino’s grip.

“It’s better to split up during attacks trust me,” Nino said trying to come up with an excuse praying that Jon didn’t see through it.

Alya looked at the earrings in her hands sighing, she would either have to put them in now or come back later and deal with the butterfly and akumatized object in order to use the lucky charm. She could always use a mirage. 

“I am Myth Weaver and I make lies become reality! Adrien Agreste will love me,” Weaver said waving a wand in the air and Chat’s eyes widened before extending his staff out to her stopping the motion.

“Don’t let her cast any more spells,” Chat said and the girls rolled their eyes.

“Yeah, we’ll try,” Hoodwink said putting in the earrings not unifying yet but casting a perfectly planned mirage.

Marinette looked at Jon’s phone sighing as a text from Jason showed up.

From Jason Todd What hotel are you staying at? B wants to have you over for dinner He didn’t think that I could make friends How rude is that?

Marinette rolled her eyes before typing back.

To Jason Todd Who’s B? And I’m staying at Wayne Suites Hotel.

Marinette tucked the phone back into her purse before looking up to see Audrey walking toward her arms open before pulling her into a hug. “Marinette darling, let me show you the ropes of business ownership. I know that if there is one designer out there who can surpass Gabriel and his dreadful white collection it’s you. Don’t tell anyone but I’m getting a bit too old for the drama and I must go back and visit my daughter at some point. This is our Jersey studio make yourself at home,” Audrey said before running over to someone and yelling at them.

“I’ll do my best,” Marinette mumbled out before reaching for the phone in her purse.

From Jason Todd B is complicated but he’s Damian’s dad and Damian is Jon’s boyfriend, remember? One would think you’d want to meet the guy you texted right? Get to know him a bit

Marinette snorted, it was like Jason was trying to set them up or something, she exited the app before thinking. This was Jon’s boyfriend and Jon was nice, she wouldn’t want him to… no wait that wouldn’t be so bad. If Jon texted Adrien as her and she texted Damian as him then maybe they could fix any problems in their relationships, or at least her problems. She reopened the app typing aggressively.

To Jason Todd Be there at five.

From Jason Todd You’re not going to regret this

“Oh yes I am,” Marinette said to herself as Audrey came back and started guiding her through the building.

Jon’s eyes widened as a huge rock came flying at him. Sure Jon was used to danger, in fact he chased is for fun but he really wasn’t expecting an akuma on his first day in Paris. He actually wasn’t expecting any of this to be honest.

“No!” Nino yelled running back toward him. “Wayzz, shell on!” Nino called out being enveloped in green and taking a shell off his back before jumping in front of Jon blocking the rock which shattered to millions of pieces on impact. Nino breathed out a sigh of relief keeled over before turning back to Jon who’s eyes were bulging out of his face. 

“Oh my Rao, what are you Sailor Moon or some shit?” Jon asked gesturing to Nino freaking out.

“You can’t tell anyone, promise me you won’t tell anyone,” Nino said grabbing Jon’s shoulders shaking him viciously.

“Yeah, as long as you answer a couple of questions for me,” Jon said and Nino nodded. “Who are you? When and where are you meeting Superman?” Jon asked and Nino looked confused.

“They call me Protector and we’re meeting Superman in a day at midnight on the Eiffel Tower. How did you know we were meeting with Superman?” Protector asked.

“I’m a reporter’s son and I lived in Metropolis, it’s how I was raised, to follow Superman wherever he goes and get every bit of information out of the situation. I just wanted to get some pictures for my parents,” Jon said waving Protector’s question off easily. Suddenly ladybugs were flying around everywhere and they fixed the rock.

“Ladybug fixed everything, we should go meet back up with the others,” Nino said back in his regular clothes. Something seemed off, the others were so sure that Nino could keep him safe, Adrien’s name in Marinette’s phone is chaton, there’s four friends who all look somewhat similar to the heroes. Jon smirked to himself, he found the heroes of Paris and now he would be able to see Paris’ situation from a whole new angle. 

Marinette stood outside her hotel in a black dress with pink flowers crawling along the hem, hair pulled into a half ponytail, pink high heels, and a white purse with a trick pocket phone tucked in carefully along with the mouse miraculous. A fancy car pulled up in front of her and the window was lowered and Jason called out to her.

Marinette was terrified, she had figured out earlier that she would be dining with the batfamily from photos on Jon’s phone and Damian being Robin and Jon being Superboy. She also knew that she was in a car with a murderer but if anything bad happened she always had her training and Mullo up her sleeve, she would be able to shock him enough to get out of any bad situation. Jason did seem harmless enough though and she had read up on the news and it seemed that Red Hood had turned over a new leaf.

“We’re here,” Jason said rousing her from her thoughts as he opened his door walking around the car to open hers helping her out. She looked up and her eyes widened at the house, no manor, in front of her.

“You live here?” Marinette asked. The place was bigger than Gabriel’s.

“Yup, now come on we have dinner to get to,” Jason said smiling walking up the front steps and Marinette quickly followed.

Damian was not thrilled about the family dinner that was called this morning. Jason seemed insistent that the whole family meet his new friend. He just wanted the whole thing to be over so he could talk to Jon, hopefully his beloved would be up by then. He had to fight the Joker the previous night and couldn’t text him back but he didn’t want Jon to be worried or anything, he hoped the younger wasn’t mad at him.

Damian adjusted his shirt thinking, Jason had made a friend, a friend who he thought was worth the family dinner treatment. She couldn’t be his girlfriend, Jason never said he broke up with Roy so who was this girl? Damian shook his head before walking down the stairs and saw Jason and his friend, she was too good for Jason and Jason was in no way worth her time.

Marinette stared at the boy before her, this was Damian? She felt guilt crawl through her chest. He’s in a relationship, he’s in a relationship, he’s in a… holy shit he’s hotter in person. Marinette couldn’t help but admire him for a moment before remembering he was a hot asshole.

Coughing roused the three from their thoughts as Alfred stood in the doorway smiling. “Dinner is almost ready,” Alfred said and Jason nodded in the direction of the dining room letting Marinette go first. She walked into the room and eight pairs of eyes settled on her.

“Welcome to Wayne Manor,” Jason said and Marinette gulped grasping her purse, just one dinner.

Taglist (open): @jumpingjoy82 @liquid-luck-00 @megaafangirl @zorua-adorable @dreamykitty25 @pinkittwice @ghostdragonfang @ramos123 @redbullgivescaswings @jayjayspixiepop @sekhmet5 @blur-of-colours @roseisred  @nightlychaotic @ladybug-182 @novaloptr @prettylittlebutterflie @hammalammadamdam @niknak-3​ @certainmuffinbagelcalzone @chaoticstarworld @niknak-3​ @nightlychaotic​ @lunalamant​ @lovleyautumnsunflower 

[writing-gifts]

datura (moth!bruno x butterfly!reader)

Summary: You meet a moth during a spring night.

-----

A/N: okay this is bit of a weird concept but I had some fun writing it, and then it got reallyyyyy long so I’m splitting it up into multiple chapters! if you ever watched pixie hollow, that’s pretty much where I got the inspiration for the setting pretty much (but without magic). anyways I hope you guys enjoy! 

2nd chapter

BTW reader is gender neutral!

------

[Early Spring]

The wind under your wings does most of the work as you glide through the air in the direction of your home. Spring was just warming up and you were getting back into the groove of flying again. So even though you were happy, your body felt exhausted from flying from flower to flower most of the day.  

You notice a few of your nocturnal neighbors exiting their homes, most likely having woken up not that long ago. Some of them looked familiar as you had seen them before on days you had also stayed out later than usual. The ones who recognized you waved as you passed by.

Dusk was quickly fading, but with the skies clear you weren’t too worried about not being able to navigate your way back, however, you picked up your pace anyways.

Before you knew it, the soft light off the moon began to cascade over the forest floor. Naturally, your eyes drift towards a group of flowers you had flown by many times but had never seen bloom.

When you realize the petals of the flowers are unraveled, you don’t give a second thought before flying towards the funnel shaped flower. You weren’t that far from home anyways.

The moment your feet land on the edge of the curled petals, you're hit by the rich fragrance of the flower.

You already drank a decent amount today but what’s the harm in a night time “snack”. You could also take some nectar back with you. Who knew when you would get to see this flower bloom again?

You carefully crawl head first into the flower holding your arms out to the sides to prevent yourself from falling completely in. Using your bottom right arm, you grab one of your empty canisters at your hip to gather some of the flower’s nectar..

After you've had your fill and saved some to take home, you pull yourself out. Your eyes widen slightly when you realize how much darker it’s gotten. And now that you were too full, you felt even more sluggish.

While you contemplate if you could find a flower nearby to sleep in the petals of, the shadow of something above moves past you.

You flinch and shuffle a back into the petals.

What was that?

You sit in the flower for a minute before moving out to peak out behind it. Although you were curious, this could obviously be something dangerous.

Your eyes search the area until it lands on a bug standing on a flower similar to yours. You had seen moths before albeit rarely as most were nocturnal, but this was the first you'd seen up close.

They were somewhat alike to yourself--four arms, two legs, similar wings--but they were devoid of any bright colors and looked much more...fluffy. Their antennae was much bigger than any butterfly you'd ever seen too.

The intensity of your stare must have been enough to be tangible because the moth’s gaze turns directly towards you.

Their eyes quite literally glowed and you struggle to look away.

They didn't look hostile but that didn't stop you from hiding within the flower again. Staring at others wasn't exactly polite no matter how districting you found them.

You wait a couple seconds before peeking again. Part of you wanted to leave but your more curious one was winning over. It’s not like you could make a quick escape with your limited vision anyway.

It looked like they were going to gather nectar too.

"Isn’t it late for butterflies to be out?"

The sudden noise almost made you jump. His gaze was still on the flower he was on, but he must have been talking to you.

He was right, you shouldn’t be out here. But there’s all sorts of things that snacked on butterflies out here that you wouldn’t notice until it was too late. Along with that, your curiosity wasn’t sated yet.

Realizing there was no point hiding anymore, you jump down from your flower, using your wings to soften your fall, and walk towards the moth.

He continues gathering nectar, filling the multiple canisters he had, but still acknowledges you. “Is there something you need?”

“Well I was interested in this one flower and kind of got distracted and didn’t realize how late it had gotten. I can’t really leave since i can’t exactly see very clearly in the dark so I might as well say hi, right?” You realize how long winded that was the moment all the words are out of your mouth.

“Hello...” He stares intently, making you want to squirm. “Do you want me to help you back to your home?”

You shrug. “I could probably just hang out in one of the flowers.” It wouldn’t be the first time you’ve done that--not through the whole night though.

“That sounds like a terrible idea.” You raise your brows, not sure how to respond. He finishes up and lands gracefully in front of you. “I’ll lead you home.”

Being offered help by a bug you just met was….nice but a little strange. You couldn't think of any benefit he would get from this though. However, it’s not like you wanted to sleep outside so what would be the harm in agreeing. It didn’t sound like he was leaving room for you to actually decide anyway.

The trip was mostly quiet except for when you needed to describe how to get to your home.

When you're finally safely in front of your alcove, thanks to your temporary guide, you can’t help but feel relief. Following the moth through the foliage was a strain on your eyes and you thought you would lose him at times.

“Thanks a bunch. Sorry for taking up your time though.” You remove the canister you had attached to yourself and hold it out to him reluctantly.

He shakes his head. “It wasn't much trouble. It was actually pretty close by.”

You grin, happy that you would get to keep your treat. “Well thanks again…?” you trail off hoping he’ll finish your statement.

“Bruno.”

You repeat his name before giving yours.

“Hopefully, I’ll see you around!”

Once you say your goodbye, he slightly nods his head at you and takes off.

----

“Did you stay out late on purpose?” Bruno asks. He didn’t sound upset though.

You smile at the moth. “Well I just ran out of that night flower’s nectar and I decided why not just stay and catch two gnats.”

“What exactly was the 2nd gnat?”

You let out a hesitant laugh. “...Don't make me say it outloud.”

His brows furrow and he looks confused, so you force yourself to speak.

You sigh, “I...wanted to see you.” It was the truth but saying it outloud sounded too intense for the situation. Fortunately, Bruno didn’t seem to take it the wrong way.

“Datura.”

“Huh?”

“That’s what the night flower’s called.”

You hum. Interesting name.

“How do you know I'd even come here tonight?” Bruno asks.

“I didn't, but it’s a good thing that you did though cause I would have had to sleep out here.”

Bruno’s impassive expression changes to something a little more exasperated. “Please don’t do that again.”

You shake your head. “As long as I keep running out of nectar from the flowers around here I’m going to have to come back.”

“What if I just drop some off to you?”

You hum to yourself. That would be a much safer option but--. “I don’t really want to put more work on you though.”

“You're putting work on me regardless since I’ll have to lead you back home everytime you show up here.” The moth’s face didn’t say a lot but you had a feeling that you were tiring him out.

You smile a bit awkward, but you really weren’t about to give up this nectar so you needed a way to make up for Bruno’s troubles.

A light flickers above your head figuratively. “Are there any day flowers in particular that you’d want nectar from?”

And with that you and Bruno decide to start trading.

Around dusk, Bruno would show up at your front step with containers of nectar from various night flowers but, most importantly. your Datura. You’d trade, speak for a bit, and he’d head off to do his nightly business.

-----

“He doesn't eat butterflies right?” Abilene’s frown deepens. “You wouldn't befriend someone who eats grasshoppers right?"

You roll your eyes at how high strung your friend was being.

The weather was extra nice today, so the both of you were enjoying drinks and snacks outside of Abilene's home together. It was the first time this Spring you had gotten to do this with them, and you were looking forward to all the future times you’d be able to too.

You place your drink down on the table you were sitting at. “Moths don’t eat other bugs. Well actually, I’m not completely sure. But he would have eaten me by now so you're worrying over nothing!”

Your friend shakes their head. “That just makes me more worried! Especially since you love getting into trouble.”

“It’s not like that this time I swear. Bruno’s harmless and we only really interact to trade nectar anyways. Just think of it as me accomplishing two things at once.

“More like quenching your thirst in two ways.”

You almost choke on your drink but gather yourself. “It’s nothing like that.”

They smirk, “But weren't you going on about his appearance 5 minutes ago?”

“Haven’t you ever appreciated beauty casually?”

“Sure but that was a pretty long appreciation.”

You stick your tongue out at your friend. Maybe you had a tiny crush but it was a momentary thing--the type you would get because you barely knew the person, so you were expecting it to fade away pretty quickly.

“But seriously, I might need to check out this moth for myself. I don't want any pests getting close again.”

You look down into the drink between your hands. “He’s most likely not a bad person. I feel like he's not bad at least…”

You wanted this feeling to be right, but there was always the tiny doubt you felt towards others. Abilene was the exception,  but you’d known them since you were just a caterpillar.

Your friend frowns, “Sorry I didn’t mean to make you doubtful. I shouldn't coddle you like this but please don’t go getting into any danger okay? I don’t think my heart can take it…”

“Promise.” You cross an ‘X’ across your heart then crack a smile, "But If I do die you can have my giant cotton daybed to make up for it."

“….Tempting, but you can't use that to let me let you be reckless!”

"Dammit."

“I'm going to go get more snacks from inside. Do you want me to mix you more tea?”

“Yes please! I think you might be better at mixing my drinks than me at this point….”

“Cause whenever you come over you drink so much! I don’t know how you’re even capable of consuming that much liquid, especially with nectar in it.” They stick their tongue out in disgust.

"And I can't believe you only drink water!"

They shrug and walk into their home leaving you to wait patiently at the table.

Your mind unsurprisingly drifts to Bruno. Maybe moths like nectar as much as butterflies.