#why do I feel like he’d be a really talented travel writer?

[sailforvalinor]

I’m sorry you don’t understand I NEED a slice-of-life series following Al on his travels—no high stakes, no end-of-the-world stuff, just Al’s everyday episodic adventures where he discovers new things about the world, occasionally absolutely decks people who underestimate him because of his polite soft-boy demeanor, and writes letters about all of it to his Xingese princess girlfriend

#please I am begging #why do I feel like he’d be a really talented travel writer? #alphonse elric #fullmetal alchemist #fma brotherhood #fmab

[rocorambles]

Mission: Seduce Kuroo Tetsurou

Pair: Kuroo x Reader

Genre: NSFW, Slight Angst, Fluff, Porn With Plot

Warnings: Degradation, Master/Pet Dynamics, Sex Toys, Overstimulation, Cum Play, Nipple Play

Prompt: "Guess I'll just have to cum inside you."

Summary: You really should have just spoken to Kuroo about your insecurities instead of letting everything spiral out of control. But that’s okay, your husband is more than happy to thoroughly remind you that you’re the only woman he’ll ever want.  

Author’s Note: This is my contribution for my HQ Discord Server’s NSFW collaboration. There are so many talented writers on the server and I highly encourage you to check out the collaboration masterlist here to see how everyone decided to run with this spicy prompt. (Masterlist goes live Monday 31st August 11:30pm U.K. time!) 

You stretch your arms over your head as a big yawn rumbles throughout your entire body. It’s too early for any sane person to be up, even the sun is barely creeping in through the windows of your apartment, but your husband has hardly been sane recently with the crazy amount of hours he’s been pouring into work. You’re lucky that you even woke up before he left and you smile as you hear your overgrown house cat rustle around your bathroom and bedroom, getting ready for the day. 

“Tetsurou, hurry up so you have time to eat at least a little breakfast before you head out! You’ve been skipping it too much recently. You wouldn’t want me to leave you for one of those pro-athletes you work so closely with when you become just stick and bones, would you?” 

You bite back a laugh when your husband’s messy bed hair peeks out from around the corner and hazel eyes narrow at you, but you’re not laughing when he finally saunters over to you in his suit and traps you against the kitchen counter between his long arms, leaning in so close your noses are brushing and just when you relax and close your eyes, waiting for him to kiss you, you rapidly blink your eyes open as he gives you a quick light peck before ambling off to pour himself a cup of the green tea you’d brewed. With a pout, you warm up the rice balls you’d bought last night and place them on the dining table, wrinkling your nose in displeasure at the smirk on Kuroo’s face, but it’s all forgotten as the two of you lightly chat over breakfast, Kuroo’s long legs spreading into your space across the table, your calves gently rubbing against each other as you laugh and eat. But all too soon it’s time for him to go and he gives you another loving peck before racing out the door and with a sigh, you wash the dishes before getting ready to leave for work yourself.

You love Kuroo with all your heart. Your feelings for him have only gotten stronger over the years and even after tying the knot with him, you can’t help the way your heart flutters and warmth fills your chest whenever the two of you lock eyes. But when your mind replays the teasing scene from this morning, your thighs clench and you bite your lips. Kuroo’s always been a tease and you love it as much as you hate it. No one knows how to rile you up like he does and he uses that to his advantage, rendering you a desperate, needy mess before finally making good on all his dirty promises. But lately, he hasn’t been following through. You can’t even remember the last time you’d done anything more than heatedly make out. 

At first, you had tried to be patient. You know far too well exactly why he hasn’t been in the mood recently. It’s so obvious to you. It’s obvious in the ever growing and darkening circles underneath his eyes. It’s obvious in the way he can barely stay awake when you do manage to spend some time together when he comes back home from work. It’s obvious in the way he immediately passes out as soon as his head hits the pillow. Hell, even his messy bed hair that usually defies gravity seems to slump more and more with every passing day. He’s exhausted. You’ve always loved how dedicated and hardworking Kuroo is. It’s one of the many reasons you’d fallen for him and you know how important his job is to him, but you wonder if it’s time to intervene as you watch your husband walk around your shared apartment like a zombie. Also, more selfishly, you have needs and it’s been months since you’ve been stuffed full by him and really, this is all Kuroo’s fault for training your body to constantly yearn for him after all the years he spent pleasuring you over and over again. With a determined glint in your eyes, you begin to scheme. Let Mission Seduce Kuroo Tetsurou begin.

You scan yourself in the mirror pleased with how you look in a strappy lingerie set you know drives Kuroo crazy. It’s a delicate and intricate creation of lace and ribbons that barely covers you, only accentuating the curves of your figure, but you know it’s the one strip of ribbon that travels in a single bold line between your breasts and leads up to a delicate lacy red collar wrapped around your neck that will specifically catch Kuroo’s eyes. Checking the time, you excitedly perch yourself on the bed, positioning yourself seductively, candles flickering and enhancing the mood as you wait for him, but a hour passes and you unwillingly succumb to sleep, ignorant of the way your phone buzzes with an apologetic text from Kuroo, letting you know he’d be home even later than usual. Blearily you open your eyes and wince as daylight sears your vision. Wait...daylight? You scramble to sit up and check your surroundings and your shoulders sag in frustration when you find yourself still in your lingerie set, but carefully tucked into bed, blankets wrapped around your body, Kuroo’s side of the bed empty and cold. You reach over to look at your phone, getting up to get dressed for work, when you see a new text from your husband. 

Sorry, kitten. You must have been waiting a long time for me last night. You looked absolutely beautiful. Look! I even took some pictures so I could remember. But maybe next time try not to fall asleep while the candles are still lit ^.^  

Your face heats up at the lewd pictures he’d taken of you while you were fast asleep and your heart warms at his compliment, but you stubbornly shake your head. There’s no time to be distracted. You’re still a woman on a mission. 

Attempt two takes place that weekend and you watch your husband from the shadows, lurking behind him before finally pouncing on him as he sits at his desk, answering a work phone call. You saucily wink at him as you saunter into his view and you smirk at the way he clears his throat and gulps at the sight of you dressed in nothing but his old Nekoma jersey and black thigh highs. And when you sink to your knees and arch your back just so, you almost snicker at the way he hisses when his jersey rides up and your bare ass is displayed. But he collects himself enough to firmly, but gently shove you away from him as you try to pull his boxers down and despite a few more attempts on your end, you instantly stop when he puts his phone on mute and sternly says your full name. 

But Kuroo’s always been weak against your puppy dog eyes and with a slight roll of his eyes, he beckons you to sit on his bare thigh and as he calmly and professionally continues his call, you heavily pant with your tongue lolling out, drool dripping from your mouth as you grind against his strong muscles like a bitch in heat, smearing your arousal everywhere until you’re almost sliding back and forth against the taut surface. And as he clenches his muscles and digs his leg further up into you, your body convulses and he barely has time to end the call before you loudly moan as you ride out your orgasm. He whispers filthy praises into your ear about what a good slut you are, what a desperate pet you are, what a mess you’ve made all over master’s leg, but when you finally exhaustedly slump onto his chest, he peppers butterfly kisses all over your face and holds you for a few minutes before carrying you to the bathroom and washing both of you off despite your protests that you still want to play more. 

He at least has the decency to apologetically kiss you for ending things so abruptly as he throws on slacks and a button-up before rushing off to work to take care of the emergency he had just been on a call about despite the fact that it’s a weekend, but you can’t help the growing insecurity that begins to eat at you as you spend the rest of that Saturday alone. Were you not as attractive as you used to be? Was Kuroo getting tired of you? Why does it feel like you’re trying so hard to get his attention? Does touching you feel like just a husbandly duty for him now? Thought after crippling thought sears through you and you have to hold back the tears that threaten to spill when Kuroo returns late that night and, thinking you’re already asleep, turns on his side with his back facing towards you and instantly falls asleep.        

You muster what little resolve you have left with the last few scraps of your self-confidence for a final attempt. Raking through your mind for memories of what would hopefully bring some passion back between the two of you, you perk up as your eyes scan a black box crammed underneath the bed. Kuroo hates it when you masturbate, when you touch yourself, when you make yourself cum without him being physically present or at least on a call with you to hear all the pretty sounds you make. Surely this would be enough to finally have him fuck you senseless like he always used to. But when you purposefully time everything so that Kuroo enters your bedroom and finds you stuffed full with your favorite dildo, a wand vibrator pressed against your clit, and your back arched as broken cries fill the room, he just gives you a tired smile and sits on the edge of the bed before helping you by thrusting the dildo in and out of your gushing cunt. And it feels so good, but when you see how dull and lifeless Kuroo’s sleep deprived eyes look despite the fact that you’re laid out in an erotic display of lust, you can’t stop the sobs you let out as you climax. 

Thinking you’re just crying from the overwhelming pleasure and too tired to dig further into it, Kuroo absentmindedly tosses the toys to the side and cradles you in his arms as he falls asleep, finding comfort in your familiar scent and figure, ignorant of the way your body continues to tremble as you cry yourself to sleep. And as you try to keep your sobs and sniffles as quiet as possible, you decide to abort this mission, deeming it a complete and utter failure and you struggle to fall asleep that night as self-deprecating thoughts claw at your insides. Of course Kuroo didn’t find you sexy anymore. Your body has changed a lot since your younger days. You should be grateful that you still have a loving husband, a husband who works tirelessly to help provide for the two of you, a husband who always takes care of you, a loyal and devoted husband. And despite the longing pang for something more, something primal, for your base desires to be filled, you tentatively turn in Kuroo’s arms until you're face to face and you nuzzle into his toned chest and finally find peace in the rhythmic rise and fall of his sleeping figure. 

Life goes on normally after that. At least for Kuroo. He's too distracted and exhausted to notice the way your smiles are a little more forced, the way you're more hesitant about touching him, the way you wear more clothes to cover your body as self-consciousness plagues your mind. So it's just business as usual for him to excitedly tell you about the Japan Volleyball Association's annual summer beach party, but he blinks in confusion when you don't return his enthusiasm, mumbling a feeble excuse about not having a swimsuit for the occasion. Brows furrowed, he digs through the drawers of your wardrobe and triumphantly holds up a black bikini set you still have, waving aside your worries that it won't fit and that it won't look good on you anymore and that's how you find yourself a few weeks later, exiting Kuroo's car and walking side by side with him in said bikini, feeling like an ugly troll next to your stunning husband whose lean and toned muscles are on full display with him just sporting a red pair of swim trunks. 

But your insecurities are pushed aside as a loud "hey, hey, hey" echoes even over the sound of the waves crashing on the beach and you can't help but grin as Bokuto runs over slapping Kuroo hard enough on the back to leave a red mark before picking you up and spinning you around as he hugs you. "Alright, that's enough, stop manhandling my wife, you big dumb owl!" Kuroo pretends to grumble at the two of you, but you can tell by the amused glint in his eyes as Bokuto finally lets you go and the reassuring hand he places on your lower back as the three of you mingle with everyone else that he doesn't really mind. But as soon as you reach the thickest part of the crowd, Kuroo quickly kisses your forehead before running off to network with some players and coworkers, leaving you alone with Bokuto. 

The two of you have fun. Bokuto has always been the life of the party and you laugh the hardest you've laughed in a long time. But many drinks later and unable to keep up with his crazy stamina, you excuse yourself and find a quiet corner, drinking a glass of cold water to cool down and sober up a bit. It's been hours and you still haven't seen Kuroo since he separated from you and you're so focused scanning the venue for him that you don't notice the person drawing near you until you feel movement right next to you. Surprised you turn around and are met with a vaguely familiar face. Blond dyed hair. An ever present smirk. You don't realize how long you've been staring, trying to remember where you recognize him from, until he snorts and waves a hand in your face. "I know I'm good looking, but don't you think it's a little rude to just stare at me silently?" 

You try to stutter out an apology as you finally come back to your senses, but he laughs it off and introduces himself. Atsumu. Yes, now you recognize him. Bokuto's teammate. You've seen tons of pictures of him on Bokuto's social media accounts. He's a little rough around the edges and you can feel your face heat up as he blatantly looks you up and down, eyes lingering a bit too long on the swell of your breasts, but you can feel your confidence growing, feeling truly desired for the first time in months. What's the harm in a little flirting? 

The two of you banter back and forth and maybe it's the heat of the sun mixed with the alcohol still running through your veins, but you don't notice the way Atsumu inches closer to you until your thighs are pressed tightly against each other or the way he rests one arm behind you, slyly pressing it against your upper back. And you definitely don't notice how he suddenly swoops in to crash his lips against yours and you move to shove him away from you only to be interrupted by a flurry of motions and you stare in shock at Atsumu sprawled out on the ground and your husband furiously glaring down at him, fists clenched so hard his knuckles are turning white. 

You react just in time to lunge at Kuroo and you tightly wrap your arms around his tense figure as he takes a step towards the blonde setter, holding him still as realization finally dawns on Atsumu when he spots your matching wedding bands and he scampers off with a rushed apology. But even when he’s long gone and nowhere in sight, you still clutch your husband, not letting go until you feel his muscles relax. You let him shake you off as he turns around to tower over you and you whimper at the fire burning in his eyes, hazel eyes almost glowing as they pin you down. You’re thankful for the loud music and lively atmosphere, ensuring no one’s paying any attention to the two of you as he tightly grips your chin and forces you to maintain eye contact. 

“Someone’s been a naughty kitten. I leave you alone for a few hours and you let some other man just place their dirty paws all over you? Let them taste your pretty little mouth? If I hadn’t stopped him, would you have let him fuck your tight cunt too? Mark you up inside and out?” 

You hate the way you grow wet at his words, trembling when Kuroo notices your growing arousal and narrows his eyes in disdain. But it’s the brief flicker of hurt in his eyes that finally has you digging your hands into his waist as denial and reassurances come pouring out of your mouth. 

“Tetsurou, I had no idea he was going to kiss me. It happened so fast. I’m so sorry. Of course I would have stopped him if you hadn’t stepped in! I love you. I only want you.” 

You stare intently into his eyes, trying to portray all your love for him through your gaze and you sigh in relief when his eyes soften at your words, but your breath catches in your throat when his eyes sharpen into a familiar gleam and a dark smirk curves onto his lips. He finally releases your chin and leans down until his hair brushes against the side of your face as he purrs into your ear. 

“Prove it to me.” 

Kuroo has a reputation to uphold and, not wanting to risk anyone seeing what’s about to happen, he grabs your hand and guides you through the dancing crowd, laughing and greeting a few tipsy faces he recognizes in passing, but not once does he stop leading you towards the exit and you’re quivering in anticipation by the time the two of you reach the parking lot and he roughly shoves you into the back of his car. The door has barely closed before he pulls your bottoms down, not even bothering to fully remove them as he also hastily shoves his boxers down just enough for his cock to swing out. And you almost moan at just the sight of what you’ve been lusting for all these months, a small part of you taking pride in the fact that he’s not as unaffected as he makes himself seem behind his angry facade as you unconsciously lick your lips at the sight of his already fully hard length. 

You attempt to sit up and move towards him, desperate for a taste of the pre-cum leaking out of his tip, but you yelp when you’re shoved back down by a hand on your chest and you whine, only for that to quickly turn into a wail as Kuroo slams two of his fingers inside of your throbbing cunt. He growls as he rapidly pistons his digits in and out of you and you should be embarrassed by the way your cries of ecstasy and the sound of your squelching wet pussy fill the car, but you can’t bring yourself to feel any shame as you lose yourself to the delirious pleasure of your husband’s long fingers filling you, stretching you, always sure to rub against that spongy spot inside of you that makes you see stars. But when your hand instinctively reaches down to rub your clit, you’re startled back to reality when it’s slapped away and his fingers are yanked out of you. 

He sneers down at you, a wicked smile twisting his face as he shoves his drenched fingers into your mouth and you obediently suck, making sure to clean every remaining drop of yourself that coats his skin. Satisfied, he finally removes his hand from your mouth and he quirks an eyebrow in amusement as you beg and plead for him to fuck you.

“Tetsurou, please. I need your cock inside of me. Please, I want it so badly. Please fuck me. Please please please. I miss it so much.” 

He mockingly coos down at you as desperate tears well in the corner of your eyes. “Aww is my little kitten crying for my cock? You’re such a fucking whore. You want my big fat cock inside of you so badly that you’d cry and beg for it like a desperate slut? You sure it’s my cock that you miss? I think you’d be happy with any cock fucking you. You’d let anyone stuff you full and moan like a whore, wouldn’t you?” 

And the tears finally fall as you sob and shake your head rapidly. “Only you, Tetsurou. Always only you. Please please please.” You’re still crying and incoherently babbling as he slams his entire shaft inside of you in one swift motion and Kuroo darkly smiles at the way your crying instantly turns to wanton moans at the sudden intrusion. But it’s been far too long since either of you have done this and both of you are so worked up that he knows he doesn’t have much time before you both reach your ends. And sure enough after just a few strokes he can feel your body begin to tighten and he grits his teeth at the sight of your eyes rolling into the back of your head, your head shaking back and forth, and your mouth wide open. But even as dazed as you are, when you feel the way your husband’s thrusts become uneven, you try to voice as much reason as you possibly can, fully aware of your husband’s tendency to paint your body with his fluids. 

“Tetsu-Tetsurou AH- Feels so good. Hngh D-don’t cum on me. Don’t have anything to- AHHH clean it up with and- OH we need to go back to the party.”

Kuroo grunts in displeasure at your words, but he knows you’re right and as much as he loves to see you covered in thick spurts of white, the thought of anyone else seeing that incites rage in him. You get ready for him to pull out and cum down your throat like you always do when you mess around in similarly inconvenient places, ready to swallow down any evidence of your sinful deeds, but you scream when his thrusts get even harder and faster. 

"Guess I'll just have to cum inside you."

And those words are the final shove you need to fall over the peak and Kuroo follows shortly after you as your pussy walls clench and milk his cock. He stays buried inside of you for a few more moments, wanting your tight walls to soak up as much of him as possible, but when he slides out of you, he quickly pulls your bottoms up, not letting a single drop escape, and you whimper as he purposefully tugs them up just a tad too tightly, teasingly wedging the fabric between your folds before finally having some mercy and letting you rearrange them. He opens the car door and steps out first, offering a hand down towards you and you grab it, gingerly standing up only to be pulled swiftly towards him and you stumble into his chest. But before you can fully find your balance, a large hand tugs your hair until you’re forced to stare up into cat-like eyes. 

“I want you to keep my cum inside of you for the rest of the party. I’m not anywhere near done with your punishment. I’ll be checking at home tonight to see if your pretty little pussy is still painted white.”       

The rest of the party is torturous. Kuroo doesn't let you step even a foot away from him as he continues mingling with the crowd and in any other scenario you'd love the attention he showers you with as he affectionately introduces you to countless faces, but not today. Not with your pussy desperately clenching in order not to spill a single drop of the white liquid coating your insides. Not with your touch starved body only yearning for more after getting a taste of what you've wanted all these months. And Kuroo only makes things worse with his subtle teasing. 

You know better than to think any of his touches are accidental or innocent and your body is so in tune with his that it reacts to every single bit of contact he dishes out. His arm grazes over your nipples as he reaches over to grab a drink. He leads you with a hand that just happens to slip from your lower back and land squarely on your ass. He wipes your mouth for you, claiming you have a piece of food on the corner of your mouth, but that doesn't really explain why his fingers briefly slip past your lips. But all hell breaks loose when he reapplies your sunscreen for you and his hands blatantly slip under your bikini set, teasingly close to where you want him most, but always just missing your clit and nipples and when he reaches your neck, a moan escapes you at the feeling of his hand subtly wrapping and tightening around your throat. 

"Tetsurou, stop teasing me! Can we go home? Please take me home. I need you inside of me again. I want you to ruin me." 

Kuroo's the one who's turned you into a needy slutty mess, but it's his turn to feel flushed at the sight of you lewdly begging him to do whatever he wants to you in broad daylight, in front of hundreds of people and finally losing his self-control, he brusquely grabs your hand and once again the two of you are leaving, but this time for good. The car ride is silent, the atmosphere thick and tense between the two of you as you clench your thighs together and Kuroo tries to ignore the growing bulge in his shorts. It's silent as both of you enter your apartment and Kuroo seats himself on your couch. But you break once you close and lock the front door and Kuroo impassively stares at you as you drop to your knees in front of him and beg him to fuck you again. You know you're barely making any sense, fueled only by your cock hungry thoughts, but you pause when Kuroo raises a hand to silence you. 

"Let's see if you were able to follow the one rule I gave you today, kitten." 

Eagerly you nod your head and you raise yourself on your knees, spreading your thighs apart before pulling your bikini bottom to the side and you think you could cum right there and then just from the way Kuroo unabashedly stares at the white trail dripping down your inner thigh as he pushes down his shorts enough to languidly stroke his cock. 

"Good girl. Did you like being my little cum bucket today? Did you like being filled by me? Bet if it were possible, you'd always want your little cunny to be drenched in my cum, right? Come sit on master's lap." 

Kuroo chuckles at the way you clumsily stumble in your haste to reach him as you blather affirmation after affirmation in response to his questions and he lowers his head to affectionately kiss you, lightly nipping your lower lip before he pulls back. He moves one hand to his cock to angle it as his other hand grabs your waist and urges you to move, but you hardly need any encouragement and you both groan as you sink down on his length until you're completely bottomed out and sitting in his lap once again. Immediately you try to bounce, but you whine when strong hands hold you still and you can feel tears of frustration forming as you pout at your husband's smirk. But any annoyance is forgotten when his hands fondle and pinch your nipples through the fabric of your top. 

"Look at you. I've barely done anything and you're already so worked up. Stop moving! Just sit there and take what I give you." You yelp when he roughly pinches your nipples and you cease your attempts to ride him, but you can't help the way your hips roll and grind as he continues. 

"Your nipples are already so hard, kitten. Look how obvious they are even beneath your swimsuit. Were they like this all day? Is that why Atsumu couldn't take his eyes off you? You think every player there saw how slutty your nipples are? Realized what a horny desperate whore you are? I bet they all wanted to get a taste." 

You wail when Kuroo shoves the fabric aside and latches a mouth onto one of your sensitive nubs, while experly flicking and rolling the other between his fingers. He alternates between the two sides and your frazzled mind can barely keep up with his actions as he switches up the motions of his fingers and mouth. He pulls off briefly and sharply tugs at your nipples. "Think you can cum just from your nipples?" You try to deny it, pleading for him to at least rub your clit, but your protests are ignored and you gasp when he dives back down and harshly sucks at one of your puffy nubs. Kuroo knows your body even better than you do and he continues to stimulate your nipples even when you topple over into an orgasm that takes you by surprise and you tightly clench around his cock as your back arches and only when you weakly paw at him to stop does he release your nipple with a lewd pop. 

You playfully smack him when he teases you about what a slut you must be to be able to get off from just your nipples and you hide your face in his neck as he shamelessly thinks out loud about all the nipple clamps, suctions, and vibrators he can use on you to train you even more. But you raise your head in alarm when you feel yourself being repositioned, Kuroo's erect cock still inside of you as he lays you on your back and hovers over you. 

"Tetsurou, st-stop NGH TOO SOON!"

"What did you say, kitten? Sorry, it's hard to understand you when you're moaning like a whore. Weren't you begging for this all day? Shouldn't you be thanking me?"

Kuroo thrusts sharply into you with every word and you can't think of anything other than how well he fills you, how perfectly he fits inside the cunt he's molded and shaped for himself after years of using it, how amazing the drag of his cock against your insides is. You babble thank you, thank you, thank you mindlessly over and over again, incapable of doing anything else as your breasts bounce and your body writhes underneath him. And when his hips finally stutter and he furiously rubs your clit as he adds to the mess inside of you, you break apart once again, your mind going blank as you feel the warmth of his cum sloshing inside of you.

But exhaustion slams into you as you come down from your climax, exhaustion from your third orgasm, exhaustion from being teased all day and all the barriers you’d put up finally come crashing down and Kuroo stares in horror as you sob, nothing like the pleasure filled sobs he usually wrings out of you. No, these are heartbreaking anguished cries for help and he immediately answers the call by tightly clutching you to his chest, your lower bodies still connected as he murmurs words of praise and love into your ear. 

“Hey, what’s wrong, sweetheart? I love you. You know that, right? I love you more than anything or anyone else in this entire world. I’m so lucky to be your husband. You’re so good to me, so loving, so supportive, so loyal, so beautiful.” 

The last word catches your attention and with a sniffle you hesitantly remove your head from his torso and look at him through watery lashes. 

“You think I’m beautiful?” 

Kuroo flounders for a second, disbelief choking the words in his throat, unable to understand how you could think otherwise. But when he sees the insecurity and doubt flooding your eyes he gently cradles your face in his calloused hands. 

“Of course I do. You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever met, inside and out.” 

Your heart flutters at the sincerity you see in his eyes and that’s all it takes for you to break down in his arms, wrapping your arms around his neck as you tuck your head under his chin, and he silently listens as you reveal all the internal suffering you’d put yourself through over the past months as you let your anxiety and worry mix with your doubts and insecurities, letting them fester and ferment into a self-destructive time bomb. A slow-moving process he’d been too daft to notice, that you’d been too scared to talk to him about for his sake, not wanting to be a bother or another item he needed to check off his to-do list. And while you continue shyly speaking, tears stream down Kuroo’s face and his heart clenches at the thought of how long you’d quietly suffered, putting on a happy facade for him, taking care of his every want and need during the few hours of the week he was home and awake. 

Surprised to feel liquid drops plop down on your face, you quirk your head upwards and panic when you see your husband’s teary eyes and the two of you become a blubbering mess as you both try to wipe each other’s tears and soothe each other. It’s so silly to see two adults trying to out comfort each other that you accidentally snort at the strange image the two of you must make and there’s a slight pause, but then your laughter is joined by Kuroo’s trademark cackle and before you know it, the two of you are wrapped in each other’s arms, feeling the rumble of each other’s laughter through your connected bodies. 

Yes, there’ll be serious conversations later about being more open and transparent with each other when something’s troubling either one of you and discussions on how you can both work on your communication. You’ll jokingly complain that Kuroo is hovering over you too much for weeks after this breakdown as he practically scrutinizes you with those perceptive eyes of his, always making sure you’re really fine. And he’ll never give you any more opportunities to doubt how much he loves every part of you when you’re screaming his name on every surface of your home. But for now, feeling infinitely lighter with all your burdens finally shoved off your shoulders with the help of your husband, you’re content to close your eyes and relish in the warmth of the lean body pressed against you.     

#haikyuu smut #kuroo x reader #kuroo smut #kuroo #haikyuu #haikyuu writing #haikyuu!! #haikyuu fic #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu scenarios

[squishneedsahero]

Family First

Awesomest of Them All 2.0

Part 10 of 13

Word Count: 1963

Batman x Batmom!Reader

You know what the bat family needs? Someone to pull them together and give them all the love they deserve. Who better to do that than you? An author rising to stardom in Gotham who catches the eye of a billionaire with your standoffish attitude at a huge social gathering. You are yourself and never pretend to be more or less than that. Plus you're the most stubborn person in the world, refusing to let good things go without reason.

This is a rewrite of my story Awesomest of Them All, I wanted to see how much I've improved over 3 years.

You leaned against Bruce's chest as he sat at the desk in the Bat-Cave working on the the computer on who knows what, at this point it was easier to not ask unless it seemed to be upsetting him. You weren't paying any attention to what he was doing, you were busy trying to come up with the plan as to how you would be able to get to know Damian since he seemed to try and avoid you every way he could. He had been down here helping Bruce until you came down then he suddenly had to go upstairs for some unknown reason and hadn't come back. As you sit in his lap you tilt your head so that you can look at his face.

You just sit there taking in all his features like you hadn't already see his face a million times. Eventually he pauses long enough to look down at you a soft smile on his lips. You smile back and sit up just enough to cup his cheek and give him a kiss. "What's going on with you my love?" he asks.

"What do you mean? Am I not allowed to hang out with you?"

"Thats not what I meant," he presses kiss to your forehead, "you're being unusually quiet for yourself. Is there something on your mind you'd like to talk about?"

"Mmm," you hum and sit up to face him, one leg on either side of his body, "actually there is." You have a serious look come onto your face, "Damian is definitely your child. He is so so so stubborn," you say kissing him with every 'so' with a short laugh as you finish.

"Is there a reason thats bothering you?"

"Yes. He is so stubborn that the only way I know would work for me to get through to him is by arguing with him, like I did when a certain someone tried to break up with me," you say with a pointed look at him while wrapping an arm over his shoulders and pulling yourself closer to him.

"You really meant it when you said that you wouldn't be letting that go anytime soon, huh? How many years have we been married now?"

You smirk at him and say, "only six, and you should have known I keep my promises," you kiss him again. "The reason it's bothering me though is because I don't want to argue with him and make feel like I'm going to treat him how he was while he was with the league."

"Well, my dear," he began as he wrapped his arms around your waist and hugged you tighter against him, "I don't think you, or anything you do could be ever confused for anything similar to what the league does or treated him," a kiss on your lips. "But I understand your worry, i warned you it'll take him some time to get adjusted-"

"I know, I know, but don't you dare tell me to be patient. I've been with you this long after all, I know it takes patience but you saw him leave the room as soon as he saw me. If he doesn't give me even the chance I can't use patience to help him on his way," you state simply.

"Do you have any ideas for how you'd like to try and fix that? I can tell you've been think about it a lot," as he says this one of his hands travels up your back, and he begins to gently trace your spine with his fingers, while his other arm remains where it is to keep you close to him.

"Actually, I do, pause for effect," you say out loud, "how do you feel about taking a break from this for about a week?" You ask tilting your head back just enough to gesture towards what he'd been working on before.

"I guess things are slow enough right now and the GCPD seems to have it covered it wouldn't be that big of a deal, why?"

"Well, I figured if we went on a vacation to a cabin in the woods it would be harder for him to hide from me. Especially if we get the other kids to come and we have family time, at your request," you say giving him a look, "at least tell Damian that it's something you want because we both know he wouldn't listen if it was me asking."

"Very well, y/n my love, that sounds like something we could manage to work out," he gives you one more kiss before returning to work as you settle in his lap gain.

A little over a week later you were holding your husband's hand as you, him and your three boys and three girls took a walkthrough the forrest, as the sun was beginning to set.

"You ever wonder," you muse, "if theres a reason people began telling those creepy stories about the woods? Because with everything else life has thrown at us I personally would not be surprised is there was an axe murdering ghost with a hook for a hand that haunted these woods and took it out on couples because his girl friend dumped him and he died from a being a little bitch who can't take no for an answer."

"Tt."

"I thought we were trying to have a nice quiet vacation mom, without axe murderer ghosts," Dick cuts in with a laugh.

"We are, but I'm a writer who's family is always in danger and you're expecting me to not think about the possibility of.m being killed by ghosts?" You retort to your eldest son.

"Is this going to be one of those mom lessons?" Dick sighs as he tilts his head back like a little kid.

You laugh, "sure, since you seem so excited about the idea of ghosts being one of those mom lessons." You pause a moment and think, looking at Bruce who had his arm around you, "what's that thing you always say? About the no surprises?"

"If you're prepared no situation will surprise you when it arrises," Bruce finishes the statement for you.

"Alright, so that. You need to be prepared so axe murdering ghosts don't kill you." Another pause, "it might just be a dumb thought but if I know all of you, and I do, my guess is all of you have thought of at least one way to try and take down a ghost if one suddenly appeared."

You raise an eyebrow and look at each of your kids, adopted or not, as though challenging them to tell you their thoughts on the matter. But before any of them can answer you turn to Damian, "what about you Damian? I'm sure with your many talents you'd be able to easily take down a ghost. How would you do it?"

"Tt," he sounds off but stays quiet, you watch him and you can see in the way he purses his lips and scrunches his eyebrows a little that he's thinking. He's so much like Bruce, if he wasn't then you'd have no idea how to read him. You want so badly to give him a hug, as you see nothing but a little Bruce in front of you, but know that isn't his thing so you keep your distance.

Finally he comes up with his answer to your question, "there are plenty of couples here so I wouldn't have to worry about the ghost coming after me, so I would just have to leave and the ghost would go after one of you fools."

You smile and laugh gently, "That works, I'd be more than happy to distract the ghost so each of you can get away safely."

He gives you a suspicious look, as if he thought you would leave him for dead. But you move on, asking Tim how he would fight a ghost and letting Damian think what he wants too about your answer.

It's almost midnight and you're sitting on the deck of the cabin you had rented sipping some hot chocolate and reading a book. The kids were playing video games together inside and Bruce had fallen asleep on the other half of the oversized chair you were on and was leaning across your lap as one of your hands absentmindedly ran through his hair.

When you hear the cabin door open and close quietly behind you glance up from your book to see Damian coming outside. He has a stoic look on his face and he takes a place in the seat across from you. You give him a soft smile and resume reading your book.

"Tt."

You look up again and he's just watching you, you smile reassuringly at him.

After another few minutes, you hear him ask quietly, "Why would you say that earlier? You would clearly be killed by the ghost and stand the least chance of surviving."

You stick a finger in your book to mark your place and look up at him. Theres a soft look on your facd as you look at him to answer his question. "Damian, that's what a mother does. Even if she knows she won't survive she will do anything to protect her family," you say without a single hesitation.

"Mother said you were only here because of father's money. But earlier you said you'd sacrifice yourself for us to get away, even me."

You raise an eyebrow slightly and smile gently at him, "I did say that Damian, and I meant every word of it, it doesn't matter to me if we are blood or not. The moment you decided you were staying with your father, you became my son too and that means I'm going to do whatever I can to keep you safe."

He nods slightly and leans back in his seat and looks away from you. You think the conversation is over until he speaks again, "y/n, why would you do that?"

"Any mother's child should come first it is as simple as that," you say and he nods once more before standing and going back inside.

As soon as he's gone a huge smile breaks across your face, that was the longest conversation you'd had with him and your week long vacation was almost up. You had been beginning to worry that you plan wasn't going to work but now you felt your heart swell with even more love for the small boy.

You move to pick your book back up but you're interrupted by a kiss on your neck, which was the only spot Bruce could conveniently reach without moving from his comfortable position.

"You heard that didn't you?" you say more than ask.

"Yes, and it seems like your patience is beginning to work," he says a soft smile on his lips and you can't help but give him a peck on the forehead.

When you all arrive home from your vacation Damian is no longer intentionally avoiding you. He doesn't speak to you still but he at least stays in the same room as you. It's not much but its a step in the right direction.

While you had been on your way home the evening before there had been some odd reports coming in from around Gotham. There was another Vigilante in town, but this one was different from your husband, they killed to reach their goal. The GCPD had given him the nick name of Redhood, seeing as he was only ever seen with a red helmet on that covered his face. And Bruce was determined to find out why he was killing everyone who got in his way so needlessly not caring how many fatalities there were.

#Batman #batman x you #batmom #batmom reader #batfam x batmom #batfam #batfam x you #batfam x y/n #batfam x reader #bruce wayne #bruce wayne x you #bruce wayne x reader #bruce wayne x y/n

[azucanela]

OMG I AM OBSESSED WITH YOUR WRITING YOU ARE DEFINITELY ONE OF THE BEST WRITERS ON TUMBLR NO CAP!!! i love ur zuko fics, and i wanted to request some sokka x reader!!! i want u to have complete creative freedom but i love how you write slowburn omg so some enemies to friends to lovers sokka content would be insaneeee! maybe reader is fire nation (zuko’s cousin/iroh’s daughter??) but joins the gaang after crossroads or something?

AFTER | SOKKA X READER

SUMMARY: Sokka didn’t expect the girl who held a knife to his neck to be the same girl he’d fall for. Y/N didn’t really expect to fall either. 

WORD COUNT: 10k

WARNINGS: injuries, implications of death, kisses, bloodbending, threats of bodily harm, death threats

A/N: time to give sokka the attention and hype he is OWED, also im SO SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONGGG but this is quite possibly my favorite Y/N. writing for sokka is hard tho. im not sure how much i like this tbh but its really long omg. also thank you!!!! i feel honored to be considered the best :D you are too kind

When she was younger, Y/N joined Azula’s little troupe of girls. Though she wasn’t some loyal little soldier for her to order around, no, Y/N never feared Azula. Nor did she follow her blindly. No, it had always been a struggle for power between the two. Even when her father was booted from the throne as the rightful heir. 

Losing her brother made her wonder if giving up like her father had in Ba Sing Se was the easy way out. Perhaps thats why she promised herself she would never give up. Maybe thats why she challenged Azula to... an unofficial duel when she’d heard her comment. Challenged her and won. 

The new Fire Lord’s pride and joy had lost against his niece, a shame. 

Y/N hadn’t thought much of it, but it probably would’ve explained why Fire Lord Ozai was rather pleased when Y/N had came to him and explained her intents to go alongside her father and cousin in banishment. She was, no matter how unlikely, another potential heir to the throne. And unlike Zuko, an actual threat. Sending her on a journey to find someone who’d been missing for a century was the best way to get rid of her. 

If Y/N was honest, she viewed the banishment as more of a vacation. All her life, she had to deal with banquets, politics, war tactics, all at such a young age. It was tiring, and dull, spending day and night in the palace doing such things. Now, she had the opportunity to travel the world, though her grumpy cousin was rushing them throughout each spot, it was still nice. Zuko certainly didn’t think so, given that they hadn’t found the Avatar yet, not that Y/N believed they ever would but, it is what it is.

A sigh escaped her as she sat, on leg propped up against the other on the deck of the ship, they had arrived in the Southern Water Tribe after seeing an odd light in the distance. Maybe it was cruel, but Y/N sincerely hoped they didn’t find the Avatar. She didn’t want her vacation to end, she didn’t want to return to the politics, and she didn’t want to deal with one of the most powerful people on the planet. Aside from her own desires, Y/N couldn’t help but disapprove of Zuko’s need to please his father, the man who’d hurt him beyond forgiveness.

She sincerely doubted her father approved either. Though their relationship had been strained for some time now. Y/N didn’t hate her father, she doubted that was possible, he was a kind man and a good father. Things between them simply felt... off. She liked to think she’d gotten over it, the initial jealously she felt when she discovered her father intended to join Zuko on his hunt for the Avatar.

When she’d found out from Fire Lord Ozai. 

Sometimes she wondered if her father even intended to say goodbye. But she wasn’t a fool, Y/N knew he had recently lost a son, they were both hurting and Zuko needed someone who wasn’t going to hurt him if he did something wrong. Though, Y/N saw him try to save the lives of the soldiers of the so-called great Fire Nation, not do something wrong. Regardless, Zuko needed a father figure, yes. But Y/N needed a father as she grappled with the death of her brother. 

Maybe she was just a little bitter about it. 

“Are you coming?” Zuko asked, his words coming out harshly.

Raising a brow, Y/N shook her head, “no. Don’t get too violent, though.” She warned, looking at him pointedly, “they’re a small tribe that’s going extinct.” 

Zuko rolled his eyes as he exclaimed, “that’s not my fault!”

Sitting up to face him, Y/N smacked him upside the head as she walked past him, “considering the royal family, which you are a part of need I remind you, ordered the genocide of every single Waterbender they had...” She paused, cracking her knuckles before turning to look back at Zuko, “I would say you that everyone here probably blames you for it by assosiation.” Y/N reasoned. She had never liked the history that her ancestors had, much less approved.

Taken aback, Zuko exclaimed, “you’re a part of the royal family too!”  Y/N was well aware of the circumstances surrounding his banishment, he’d tried to save lives, but war was the only thing that mattered to the Fire Nation it appeared. 

His attempt at defense simply earned him a shrug, “perhaps.” Y/N didn’t consider herself a member of the royal family, and she doubted her father did either. And no matter what Zuko thought, though he was royal by blood, his banishment severed his ties to the throne permanently.

Unless they happened to find the Avatar, though that wasn’t very likely, Y/N decided she would rethinking her life choices should the Avatar be here of all places, as she rested her forearms on the side of the ship and watched Zuko march down his soldiers.

She wasn’t going to tell him that the Southern Water Tribe didn’t have a military, much less benders. As previously mentioned, the genocide destroyed the benders, and the most of the soldiers in the village had headed off to fight in the war against the Fire Nation. Though her brow did raise as she watched him yank an old lady from the small crowd of people, Y/N straightened her back, preparing to get involved. 

Of course, a young warrior ended up running at her cousin, war paint and all as he attempted to attack. Key word being attempted. Watching him fall face first into the snow, Y/N realized he wasn’t a warrior, but a boy. The Avatar also happened to be a boy. A very, very young boy. Not a century year old Airbender. 

Y/N supposed it was time to start rethinking her life. 

Sokka didn’t know what he was supposed to do as he helped Princess Yue onto the Sky Bison. They needed to find Aang’s physical body, quickly, otherwise he wouldn’t be returning to the real world, and they happened to be fresh out of Avatars up until recently so that wasn’t really an option. Not when they needed the balance of the world to be restored immediately. 

Sighing, Sokka moved to get onto the Sky Bison, only to be yanked backwards, stumbling before having a knife pressed to his neck. “What the hell!” He exclaimed in shock, garnering the attention of the others that were already on Appa. Katara’s mouth gaping open at the sight of him as Princess Yue cried out in shock.

The knife against his neck is certainly uncomfortable, and he realizes that he probably should’ve stuck around Kyoshi Island long enough to learn how to get out a situation like this. “I’m coming with you. Someone has to make sure Zuko doesn’t do anything else dumb.” Comes a voice from behind him, and Sokka’s brows furrowed in confusion, who was this? And why were they trying to kill him? More importantly, how did they know Prince Zuko, the guy who had been chasing them since Aang had come out of that iceberg. Questions ran rampant through his mind, and he nearly forgot that his life was being threatened.

That was a luxury he couldn’t afford at the moment. 

Though he couldn’t see the person behind him, he could see Katara grimace at her demand, anyone associated with Prince Zuko likely had a similar end goal, to capture the Avatar. This wasn’t something they could allow, and Sokka recognized this as Katara asked, “why should we trust you?” Katara’s eyes soon met Sokka’s and he knew that no matter what he said, she would give into the girl’s demands for his safety. Sokka mentally scolded himself for failing to prevent this situation. 

The girl behind him scoffed, “unlike my dear cousin,” Sokka couldn’t help the shock that flooded him, cousin? As in Zuko is this girl’s cousin? Or did she mean someone else? He was kidding himself, there was no one else it could be. “I like banishment, it’s like a fun little vacation. I could care less about the Avatar.” The knife draws in closer to Sokka’s neck, nearly drawing blood, likely expressing the fact that she could care less if Katara believed her. Though Sokka doubted she didn’t care about the Avatar, he was one of the most important people in the world. 

But Sokka would likely die if she didn’t agree, or at least end up fatally injured. No matter how far Katara had come with her Waterbending, she hadn’t perfected it yet, and healing was only so effective. Sokka sincerely doubted she could beat the speed of this girl and her weapon considering the fact that she’d gotten the jump on them the first time around. Death wasn’t something he wanted, but anyone who knew Zuko couldn’t be trusted, much less someone who shared his blood. If he turned out... like that, Sokka didn’t want to imagine how this stranger ended up.

“Don’t try anything.” Katara warned, eyeing the girl wearily. Though it was an empty threat for the most part, in the air, there was little Katara could do against a foe. Though three, well two if you exclude the princess, against one seemed like favorable odds, this girl seemed talented in combat, even without bending.

She released Sokka, and he turned to see her beaming up at Katara, “happy to be doing business with ya.” Turning to Sokka, she looked him up and down, sizing him up before speaking, “be a gentleman and help me up?” Yeah, she was crazy. The pretty ones are always crazy. That, and she was Zuko’s cousin, it made sense. Though Sokka was fairly sure that she was joking, you could never be too sure.

“Who even are you?!” He exclaimed, exasperated and preparing to whip out his boomerang as he glared at her. He didn’t recognize her, but she’d likely been traveling with Zuko for quite some time now if they were related.

She just shrugged, “you can call me Y/N.” She got onto Appa with ease, Katara on guard a she eyed her, eyes piercing into her soul, Y/N raised a brow upon noticing this, “calm down. I wouldn’t have killed him.”

Katara inhaled deeply, trying to maintain patience as Sokka got into the saddle, “yip, yip.”

Y/N wasn’t really shocked when it turned out Azula was after them. Of course good old Uncle Ozai sent his most valuable asset to bring them back. Though some good at come of it, Zuko cut his ponytail, something Y/N had taken pleasure in bullying him over. Now they were on the run, in the very city that her father had tried to run to the ground all those years ago. 

Irony at its finest.

Tugging at the sleeves of her Earth Kingdom garments, Y/N sighed, walking through the streets of the city. She didn’t know where she was if she was honest, and standing in the beautiful plaza, Y/N wondered if maybe, it would be better if she never returned back to that horrid apartment. Her father was starting over, getting them all jobs at a tea shop, even Zuko had tried to move on, going out on a date with a girl. 

The Earth Kingdom was an odd place, but here, no one knew who she was. It wouldn’t be difficult to restart, alone. Without the expectations she’d been raised with. Fists balling up, Y/N exhaled slowly, turning a corner. There wasn’t graffiti in this part of the city, she realized, staring at the walls. Though there was an odd poster, squinting at it, she moved closer. It was a poorly drawn image of-

A Sky Bison. The same one she’d ridden on back during the Siege of the North, not that any others existed, the Sky Bison were a dying breed. Which could only mean one thing, the Avatar was in Ba Sing Se. 

"Have you seen him?” She heard from behind her. Y/N recognized the voice, it belonged to the boy she’d held at knife point, “the drawing isn’t my best but-”

Turning around she spoke rapidly, “don’t freak out.” This was a problem.

Y/N liked to think she was the least threatening of the Royal Family, aside from her father that is. Though they could both be lethal in their own ways, neither demonstrated the true extents of their power unless it was truly necessary. Maybe that’s why Y/N hoped that the boy, Sokka, she believed his name was, wouldn’t freak out.

Of course, he did. Dropping the posters in his hand, he opened his mouth, likely to scream, only for Y/N to practically tackle him. She slammed his body against the wall, covering his mouth with her hand as she glared at him. Sokka let out a grunt of surprise, immediately beginning to struggle in her hold, “calm down! I don’t have a knife this time around.” Y/N cried out, her voice a hushed whisper. Of course, what she said was a lie, she always had at least three weapons on her. Upon entering the city, she’d knocked that number down to only two weapons, much to her dismay and Iroh’s relief.

She felt him lick her hand, and she quickly removed her hand in disgust, while keeping the other planted on his shoulder, they both exclaimed, “what the hell!”

Sokka’s eyes narrowed at her, “look. I don’t wanna cause a scene, so I’m just gonna go-” He sighed when her hand remained on his shoulder, firmly holding him against the wall as he tried to move away only to be pushed back into the wall. “Or not.” 

“Look, you cannot go back to your little group and tell them that I’m here.” Y/N tried to choose her words carefully, if she didn’t need to, she didn’t want to suggest that her father and Zuko were also in the city. “I’m trying to have a permanent vacation, away from the Fire Nation and my crazy family, in Ba Sing Se.” She explained, slowly removing her hand from his shoulder, “think you can respect that?”

He looked at her wearily, during their last interaction, she’d made no attempts to actually injure them. And when she had the Avatar right in front of her, unlike Zuko, she hadn’t tried to kidnap him. Y/N had been honest last time, and chances were, she was being honest now. That didn’t make him feel any better about trusting her though. 

“How do I know you won’t follow me and kill me in my sleep?”

Y/N looked at him incredulously, “is that a joke?” She’d considered that too though, the possibility that he’d follow her back to her shared apartment and alert his friends of their location. Y/N refused to be the reason that they lost their new lives in Ba Sing Se, and had already decided to check into an inn for the night. 

Raising a brow at her, Sokka gestured for her to give him an answer, and Y/N stared at him momentarily, “well. How do I know you won’t kill me in my sleep?” Y/N retorted.

Sokka rolled his eyes at her, “I’m a good person.” Came his response.

“Debatable.” 

Sokka stared at her in disbelief, “I’m trying to save the world here!” He exclaimed, and Y/N wasn’t shocked by his response, her goal had been to fluster him and she had.

Tilting her head at him, Y/N replied, “sure.” Stretching her arms upwards, she waves to him, “don’t tell your friends I was here, and we’re good.” She began to walk further into the alley, towards the other side, “see you around.” If he was here, his friends were probably around the area as well, meaning she had to leave.

His mouth gaped open and he stared at her figure as she stalked off, pausing momentarily before groaning and running after her, ending up at her side. “What do you mean, sure?” Sokka asked, confusion laced in his tone. 

Y/N raised a brow at him. “What are you doing?”  She wanted to laugh at his reaction, though he was now following her liked a lovesick puppy, which could prove problematic. 

Crossing his arms he responded, “making sure you don’t do anything bad.” Sokka eyed her suspiciously, “because I am a good person.” He asserted.

“And I’m a bad person?”

She already knew he was going to say, ‘yes, yes you are.’ After all, she was from the Fire Nation, and Y/N had no doubt she’d done terrible things in her life, especially when she’d fallen into a dark place and taken on... less than favorable coping mechanisms. 

And he’s silent for a moment, leaving Y/N to wonder if he suddenly cares about the feelings of the enemy. Only for him to say, “in my experience... good people can do bad things.” 

That wasn’t what she expected. Y/N found herself stunned, speechless as she looked to Sokka, though he simply continued to walk alongside her nonchalantly. Quickly collecting herself, she looks away from him and to the nearby food stand, “that didn’t answer my question.” And as Sokka opened his mouth to likely continue his statement, Y/N realized she didn’t want to know the answer as she spoke, “you want food? I want food. Let’s get food.”

Sighing, Sokka followed her, “as long as you don’t poison me.”

Y/N’s brows furrowed at his comment, looking back at him, “do you-” A small laugh escaped her, “do you think I just carry around poison?” 

Sokka didn’t know why he swelled with pride when he made her laugh, “in case you run into your enemies, absolutely.” It was probably because she was the enemy, and it took real talent to make someone who hated you laugh. 

“How often do you think I run into my enemies and invite them to get food with me?” She asked, picking up a few things from the stand, before heading over to pay.

Frowning, Sokka watches her pay, “I thought we were bonding over,” he paused to take a meat bun from her and shove it into her face dramatically, “meat! Yet, I’m still your enemy.”

Y/N simply shrugged, “this is a one time thing.”

It was not a one time thing. 

Sokka found himself ‘coincidentally’ running into Y/N, more and more often. She’d be walking through the streets of the upper ring about once a week, though she had started walking through the streets of the inner ring of Ba Sing Se far more frequently than normal in recent weeks. He’d been meaning to ask her why, maybe she’d also grown accustomed to their meetings and started to come around more. During their meetups they’d talk, about things other than the war, which was a conversation difficult to come by with the others. Though he cared for his friends, talking to Y/N felt different, a good different. She wasn’t overbearing like Katara, or mean like Toph, but she also wasn’t as passive as Aang. 

It was odd. Knowing someone who had once held a knife to your neck in a more friendly way. Though, if Sokka was honest, he didn’t trust her, and she likely didn’t trust him either. They’d both taken precautions due to the mistrust between them, not that be blamed her. At the end of the day, they were still on opposing sides, kind of. Y/N had never seemed to care about finding the Avatar, but she was certainly loyal to her family above all else.

She’d demonstrated that in the Northern Water Tribe. 

Sokka was the same, if he had saw an inkling of betrayal as a possibility, he wouldn’t hesitate to tell the others. Their safety was his priority at the end of the day, and Y/N didn’t owe him anything, just like he didn’t owe her anything. Maybe that was the beauty of it all. But for now, everything remained peaceful, calming, and simple.

Of course, all good things must come to an end. 

Katara had oddly disappeared after Aang arrived with news of his vision. And then, as though things couldn’t get any weirder, Iroh arrived, Y/N’s apparent Father Iroh. Toph seemed to know him well, which certainly came as a shock to Sokka and Aang. “I need your help, Prince Zuko has been captured.” He explained, opening his mouth to continue only for Sokka to interrupt. He couldn’t help it when his brows furrowed in both confusion and frustration, Y/N had never suggested that the rest of her family was here.

“Are you crazy? You guys were trying to capture Aang not to long ago!” Sokka pointed out, throwing his arms outwards, “why not get Y/N to help?” She was certainly capable of raiding the palace and retrieving her cousin.

At this comment, Iroh’s face darkened, “we were separated in the palace. I’m unsure if they managed to capture her or if she escaped.” Oh. So that’s what he was going to say. 

Sokka couldn’t help it when his face dropped, looking to Iroh he exclaimed, “well- why didn’t you lead with that!” Pushing past Aang who had been prepared to start giving a speech on why they should assist Iroh, only for his mouth to gape open as Sokka headed for the door.

“Why are you so eager?” Toph asked as they began to follow him out the door.

He faltered, quickly trying to think up a good excuse as he replied, “no reason.” 

Toph’s frowned, “I can tell when you’re lying Sokka.” She reminded him. 

“We can discuss this later!” He exclaimed, flustered. “Let’s go.”

Y/N had contemplated killing Zuko before. 

It had never really been serious, as far as she would’ve gone was maybe injuring him badly enough that she got her point across. But at the end of the day, she protected Zuko to the best of her ability, and tried to keep his mind from being poisoned by the Fire Nation ideals that she’d once lived by unquestionably. 

Now she actually wanted him dead. He stood alongside Azula, who had offered Y/N her spot in her little gang hours ago, though she’d rejected the offer much to Azula’s chagrin. But she seemed sure that Y/N would accept some time soon. Perhaps it was because Zuko had betrayed her father and left him to the Dai Li. 

He had betrayed her father, the man who had practically raised both of them. 

Y/N had a violent past, she wouldn’t deny, and she liked to think that she was past all that. But looking at the situation ahead of them, watching the Waterbender, Sokka’s sister, Katara, cry over the body of the Avatar, she realized that maybe violence was the answer. Just this once. 

So, when she hopped in front of them, she had a plan. A violent one. 

“Pull yourself together.” She snapped at Katara, who looked up at her, bloodshot eyes and tears streaming down her confused face, “he’s getting out of here alive. But first, I need you to soak them.” Y/N gestured towards the troops coming towards them, Zuko and Azula accompanying them. Katara opened her mouth, and Y/N didn’t care what she was going to say as she ordered, “now!” 

Katara’s brows drew together as she released the Avatar’s head onto her lap, raising her hands to use the waterfall behind them to successfully drench the soldiers, who groaned at the discomfort but pausing temporarily before they continued towards them. “What did you think that would accomplish? What a pitiful-” Azula’s taunts were paused when she watched as Y/N drew her hands together, inhaling deeply, and Azula stopped her movement. “That’s not possible.” 

Suddenly, lightning was between Y/N’s fingertips, and she extended her hand into the large puddle of water that Katara had created. Y/N had learnt to bend lightning soon after she’d mastered Firebending, from her father, he’d insisted that she only use it when necessary, so she kept her ability to herself. This was necessary, she decided, hand touching the water and sending a shock throughout everyone with it, successfully putting all of the soldiers out of commission. 

Unfortunately, Azula recognized the signs of lightning bending, and withdrew alongside Zuko, and the two were now coming to attack from above at a rapid rate. Y/N whipped her head around to see Katara, mouth gaped open at all the fallen soldiers. “You two need to leave, I’ll hold them off.” She began to move to create another strike of lightning

“No.” Called out another voice, and Y/N whipped her head over to see it was her father, Dai Li agents likely nearby as he moved in front of Y/N. “You all need to leave. Take Y/N with you, she will help the Avatar reach his destiny.” Y/N wanted to laugh at that, how could he be so sure? If the boy did die, then this would all be for nothing

Y/N scoffed, “are you crazy?” She moved closer to her father, “unlike Zuko, I’m not leaving you.” She exclaimed, exasperated. 

Iroh simply smiled at her as he said, “I’m proud of you, Y/N.” 

Sokka knew he seemed dumb. He knew how others perceived him, as the ‘extra’ member of Team Avatar, the useless one, because he lacked bending. At the end of the day, Sokka was the brains of their operations, he was observant, and this helped him develop plans that most people would never even consider.

Not that anyone else knew, but Sokka was the only one that had actually interacted with Y/N prior to what happened in Ba Sing Se. Sure, they’d all met once or twice in the past, but Sokka had a knife to his throat then, so Y/N probably didn’t seem that appealing to the others. And he doubted they understood how odd it was that she was so... apathetic. Normally she’d tease, and joke alongside him but now? 

It was odd, and nobody else could notice the shift in her personality but him, and he was concerned. Y/N had lost her father, and been betrayed by her cousin, and she had yet to talk about it, at all. Sokka liked to think that they were close enough to discuss such things, and he’d tried to get some sort of emotion out of her, the key word being tried. 

Despite her apathetic personality, the others had warmed up to her for the most part. Apparently Toph had met Y/N in the past, during the time she’d run off and encountered Iroh. So, the two got acquainted fairly fast, Aang was happy to have a Firebender, and insisted that once he was back to full strength, and they’d found a better place for practice, he’d learn Firebending from her. Y/N had agreed but it was clear Aang wasn’t as excited as he was acting, Sokka figured he still associated the time he hurt Katara with Firebending.

Katara had been far less weary of Y/N than Sokka had expected, but given what Katara had told him when she’d first joined, that made sense. Y/N was a powerful Firebender who had betrayed her entire nation to help save Aang’s life, and though Katara didn’t approve of everything she’d done in the past, she tolerated her. Which was better than nothing in Sokka’s book.

They were currently camped out in the woods beside a Fire Nation town, everyone had scattered to prepare for the few nights they’d likely stay in the area. Katara had gone to the town with Toph and Aang, in search of supplies and food, while Sokka and Y/N set up the camp and collected wood to help start a fire. Y/N had insisted that she could maintain the fire without any wood, but Sokka viewed this as an excuse to get her alone and force her to discuss her feelings.

“So...” Sokka mumbled, looking to her as she leaned down to pick up another piece of wood, “lovely weather we’re having.”

Y/N turned to him, raising a brow before nodding, “yeah.” It was clear she wasn’t entirely paying attention the nonsense that was coming out of his mouth as he tried to get her to listen to him. 

Sokka grabbed another piece of wood, “how have you been?”

Tilting her head at him in confusion, Y/N brought another piece of wood into her arms, “fine.” Looking up at the dimming sky she frowned, “we should start heading back to that spot we’d found earlier.” Y/N turned to begin walking, and Sokka struggled to match her pace.

His brows furrowed in frustration as he stared at her, the light of the falling sun filtering in between the trees and onto them. Y/N seemed to glow as she maneuvered between the trees, “how have you been sleeping?” Even Sokka sounded confused at the question he asked, but he didn’t know how to broach the topic with Y/N.

She simply paused her movement, turning to him, he stumbled slightly due to the abrupt stop, and met her eyes. “Just ask what you wanna ask, Sokka. Stop dancing around whatever it is.” Y/N sounded tired, looking to him expectantly as she awaited his question. Sokka scolded himself for being so obvious that she’d noticed something was up. 

He sighed, “are you okay?” And she opened her mouth to respond but he continued, “actually? You can say that you are okay, and not mean it. Y/N you lost your dad and were betrayed by your cousin, and you-” Sokka grimaced as he met her eyes, “you haven’t been the same since you joined us.”

Y/N is silent for a moment, then her eyes were piercing into his, “how would you know that I haven’t been the same?” She asked, turning away to continue walking back to the chosen campsite, “it’s not like you know me.” His statement had set her off it appeared, but her response had easily done the same for him. 

“Are you serious? Not like I know you?” He scoffed, jogging to catch up with her, “I know that you do whatever it takes to protect the people you care about. I know that you really like Earth Kingdom food because most of the food within the Fire Nation is on the spicier side.” Y/N didn’t seem to be listening, and the camp was in sight, but Sokka continued, “I know that you get really cold easily unless you regulate your body temperature with your Firebending. And I know that you can’t pick a favorite color because you are very indecisive.” 

Aggressively, Y/N dropped the sticks into the center of the campsite as they arrived, turning to him, “you can stop now.” Her voice was almost taunting as she spoke, sarcastic in a way. 

Sokka simply followed suit, placing the firewood in the center and facing her head on, “and most importantly, I know what it’s like to lose someone.” He takes her hand, and Y/N practically growls at the contact, attempting to yank her hand out of his grasp, she ends up pulling him closer towards her. Sokka clumsily topples onto her, knocking the both of them down into the dirt with a grunt. His forearms preventing him from crushing Y/N under his body weight as he held himself up, his eyes meet hers.

Y/N finds herself glaring daggers at him, while Sokka finishes his little speech with, “you don’t have to deal with this alone.”

And in that moment, he looks at her, really looks at her. And she’s really pretty.

Y/N opens her mouth to say something to him, only for someone else to begin speaking, “are we interrupting something?” Toph. Looking up, Sokka sees the others as well, Aang looks rather smug as he wiggles his eyebrows at Sokka, and Katara gives him a pointed look, likely disappointed that he’d fraternizing with the former enemy. He can’t help it when he feels his cheeks warm, and before he can move to get off Y/N, she’s launched him off of her, and he’s flat on his back on the ground. Toph laughs at the actions, bending a seat of earth for herself and the others before falling backwards into it, the girl seems to wish she had popcorn as she watched the moment unfold.

“No.” Y/N mumbles, bringing herself to her feet and dusting herself off. “I’ll be in my tent if you need me.” She retreats into one of the tents they’d set up earlier, and Sokka groans as he lets his head fall backwards into the ground and runs his hands over his face.

When he removes them, Aang is standing over him, along with Toph, while Katara organizes the firewood. “So... did we interrupt something?” Toph asked.

Sokka just sighs, his plan failed. This time at least. Next time, his goal would be to make her laugh, to make her smile. At least she had expressed some emotion, anger was better than nothing.

Anger seemed to turn to annoyance, since Y/N doesn’t leave her tent until nightfall and Sokka can’t help but wonder what was entertaining enough to keep her in there for all that time. When she does exit, she uses her Firebending to light a fire, and uses the firewood they’d collected earlier to ensure it stays alight. The rest of the group was seated around the center of the campsite, and Sokka wonders if she’s going to go back to her tent when she realizes the only open seat is next to him. 

She doesn’t return to her tent though and he’s grateful. Though she sits as far as possible from him on the bench that Toph had created, half-heartedly listening to the things that the others are saying. Y/N can feel herself getting cold and can’t help the resent that bubbles up in her chest as she recalls what Sokka send earlier. Exhaling deeply, a puff of blue fire escapes her mouth and Y/N feels nauseous at the small reminder of Azula. 

This catches Sokka’s attention, though the others are too enraptured in the story Aang was telling, Sokka turned to her, “cold?” He asked, leaning to the side to grab a blanket from his small pack, he offers it to her.

Y/N knew she wouldn’t be able to regulate her temperature when she fell asleep, but accepting the blanket from Sokka felt like... it felt like accepting him and everything he had said about her. So, when she doesn’t take the blanket from his hands, Sokka sighs, moving to put it back, only for Y/N to snatch the blanket from his hand and wrap it around herself begrudgingly.

This was her way of apologizing, moving closer to Sokka on the small bench she huffed as she pulled the blanket tighter around herself and turned her attention to Aang. She’d been mean, she wouldn’t deny, but what was she supposed to say? Exhaling deeply, Y/N closes her eyes temporarily, allowing drowsiness to consume her for a moment, before looking back to Aang.

It isn’t until Sokka feels a weight fall onto his shoulder midway through his own story that he realizes Y/N has fallen asleep, his mouth gaping open in shock as he pauses his words. He quickly shakes off the shock, cheeks warming as he turns back to the rest of the group, who all regard him curiously. Aang once again wiggles his eyebrows and Sokka ignores the action, continuing his story. Though he’s more weary of his vivid hand movements in fear of awakening Y/N, and noticeably quiets his voice. Sokka finds himself wishing he was Y/N as he listens to Katara’s Water Tribe horror story intently, after all, this is the most peaceful he’s ever seen her. 

It doesn’t last long, because she’s soon startled awake, hand going to her side where she keeps her dagger as she and Toph speak simultaneously, “someone’s coming.”

As an old woman emerges from the shadows, Sokka practically holds Y/N down to keep her from lunging at her and attacking as the woman speaks. And of course, Y/N’s distaste for the woman doesn’t stop there, even when she invites them into her home, though Sokka doesn’t blame her. She’s a suspicious woman. 

It’s not until he and Aang are attacking each other that Sokka regrets preventing Y/N from attacking the old woman when she had the chance. Katara is struggling to move, and Sokka can only hope that Toph and Y/N return from the cave soon as he yelps upon nearly making contact with Aang, the old woman laughing cynically. Sokka watches as she shifts, hand outstretching behind her, “don’t think I forgot you little Firebender.” 

His eyes widen in both shock and fear as Y/N’s body is suddenly thrown onto the ground in front of him. Her body rising almost mechanically, back to a stand, Sokka realizes there’s lightning at her fingertips, the woman manipulating her body to aim for Sokka. “A shame you’ll be the woman to end your friend’s life isn’t it,” She’s making eye contact with Katara who is crying out and begging for her to stop.

Sokka can see the panic in Y/N’s eyes as the her hands aim towards him, “Y/N. It’s okay.” He calls out her, in an attempt at assurance that he doubts does much to soothe her. “It’s okay.” He repeats, squeezing his eyes shut as he prepares for the lightning to hit him. Except it never does, instead, it goes upwards into the sky as Y/N cries out in pain, having moved her body despite the woman blending her blood. 

She had overpowered Hama’s bloodbending, something that clearly came as a shock to the old woman as Y/N turned around sluggishly, staring at the shocked old woman as blue fire left her mouth once more, chest heaving. Sokka could feel the weight on his bones slowly disappear, leaving behind an ache, the woman likely intended to focus her abilities onto Y/N, who was struggling to walk towards her. 

“Scared?” Y/N asked, looking up at the woman, “you should be.”

The next time that Team Avatar feared Y/N. She was face to face with Zuko.

He’d approached them as they sat in the Air Temple. And Y/N had practically jumped out of her seat, preparing for a fight as lightning seemed to dance at her fingertips. Though Sokka knew better than to allow her to attack her cousin, and grabbed her arm. “Can you guys handle this?” He asks the others, maintaining eye contact with Y/N. The others looked to them understanding what would likely occur if Y/N was allowed to be involved.

Zuko wouldn’t walk away from that fight. 

“We got this Sokka.” Katara assured, pure hate in her eyes as she stared Zuko down, and Sokka couldn’t help but wonder if maybe he should remove both of them from the situation. 

Sokka’s hand found Y/N’s, and it was almost burning hot, a sparks seeming to fly between them, he pulls at her hand. Y/N hesitantly allows him to drag her away, though she turns back momentarily to meet Zuko’s eyes. “I’ll kill you later, cousin.” She promises, and her voice is scarily calm. “For my father.” The condescending tone in her voice and the wince Zuko has in response is enough for Sokka to know that her intent was to hurt him emotionally if she couldn’t do it physically, and it was clear she had been successful.

Inhaling deeply, Y/N closes her eyes temporarily as Sokka brings her into one of many abandoned rooms in the temple, sitting her down onto a bed before kneeling down in front of her. “Are you good?” He asks. 

“That’s a stupid question.” Comes her response.

Sokka tilts his head at her, giving her a smile, “well I’m a stupid guy.” 

He’s rubbing gentle circles in her hand as she shakes her head, a small laugh escaping her, “no you’re not.” Her voice cracks and she cringes at the sound so she clears her throat, staring at the wall beside her. Sokka can’t help the way his heart swells at this comment, because for once he doesn’t feel like the comic relief, he doesn’t feel like the side character. Though he appreciates the rest of Team Avatar and loves them all dearly, at times, they didn’t take him seriously. 

Y/N makes him feel important. Though he doesn’t say this as he looks at her, clearly shaken by Zuko’s sudden appearance, she speaks once more, “are you sure I can’t kill him?”

This time Sokka laughs, shaking his head, “I’m sure Katara would love to help you with that, but I doubt Aang would approve.” 

Y/N nods slowly, letting out a shaky breath as a tear escaped her, though she quickly wiped it away and looks to the ground. “You wanna sit with me?” She asks, patting the spot on the bed beside her. 

“Sure.” He replies softly, moving to sit on the bed with her. One he’s situated, Y/N leans her head onto his shoulder, and Sokka finds his hand wrapping around her waist. And they sit like this for several moments. 

Taking a deep breath, Y/N removes her head from his shoulder and looks to him, “thank you.”

Sokka raises a brow, “for what?”

“Being here.” She replies, bringing her hand to move a hair from his face, Sokka watches her actions intently and in awe. “With me.” Her hand remains on his face for longer than necessary, and when she moves to let it fall back into her lap, Sokka’s hand cups hers. 

They’re both silent when Sokka’s hand releases hers, and his other hand leaves her waist, both coming to her face. The look in his eyes tells her enough, and she nods to him. 

The kiss felt like the first breath of fresh air in a while. Maybe it’s because it had been long overdue, but as Y/N brought her hands to his arms to pull him closer, she felt her head empty of all thoughts. 

He pulls away momentarily, their foreheads resting against each others, he can see her eyes are shut, lashes pressed against her cheeks. “I hope,” Sokka pauses, and her eyes flutter open to look at him, he can feel his cheek warm as he continues, “I hope I can always be here, with you.” It’s a confession in its own way, and Sokka understands the weight of his words as he watches her reaction. 

She opens her mouth, likely to reply, be closes it quickly, and Sokka can’t help the panic that floods him. Though this is quickly replaced by the feeling of her lips on his as her hand collides with his chest and pushes him down on the bed, earning a grunt from him. 

“Guys, Zuko is gone-” Y/N throws herself onto the floor as she rolls off Sokka, and he sits up immediately. “Am I interrupting something now?” Aang asked, giving Sokka a look.

Y/N clears her throat, “no.” Sokka couldn’t help it when his brows drew together at this comment, bringing a hand to his temple as he sighed, and Y/N stood, dusting off her thighs as she mumbled, “see you guys later.”

She started avoiding him after that. 

When Zuko joined the group, she’s also made a point to avoid him no matter how hard he tried to apologize to her. And of course, when Sokka first showed him to his room they had a... chat. To put it simply, Sokka had threatened him. 

Just a little. 

“So yeah, here it is, your room.” Gesturing to the room, Sokka gave Zuko a tight lipped smile, watching him wearily. 

Zuko’s back was to him as he placed his stuff down, “thank you.” He said, expecting that to be the end of it, upon hearing the door close he assumed Sokka had left.

When he turned around, Sokka was still very much there. “Let’s have a chat, Prince Zuko.” It didn’t go unnoticed by Sokka how the boy grimaced at the use of his title, though that didn’t stop him from moving forward and placing a hand on Zuko’s shoulder a little too tightly. “Y/N does not want to speak with you.”

“I know,” Came his reply. “Thank you for keeping her from... killing me. The other day. I intend to apologize-”

A small laugh escaped Sokka, “next time. I won’t stop her.” This was for multiple reasons, one of which being that Y/N was avoiding him, and the other being that he wished to respect her and her feeling about Zuko. “And you need to respect her wishes. One of those wishes being, avoiding you. Until she approaches you, leave her be.”

Zuko’s brows furrowed at this comment, “she’s my cousin. You can’t expect-”

“Leave. Her. Be.” 

Zuko became silent, nodding slowly as he looked to Sokka curiously. 

And now, to avoid some of his problems and solve some of them, Sokka ended up running away in a hot air balloon with the person he related to the most at the moment, and the person he threatened rather recently. Zuko. Both of them were being avoided by someone important in their lives, and they both had slightly crazy younger sisters. Though their conversations were certainly... odd.

“My first girlfriend turned into the moon.”

Zuko looked at him for a moment before saying, “that’s rough, buddy.” There was silence after this, a temporary lapse in conversation that Zuko seemed determined to fill. “So...” Zuko mumbled. “You and my cousin huh.” 

It wasn’t a question, Sokka realized this, but he disregarded it as he responded, “what about us?” Playing dumb would hopefully get him to drop the subject. 

Zuko raised his brows at Sokka, “us?” 

Scolding himself, Sokka realized he’d unintentionally dug a deeper hole for himself when he said this as he tried to avoid Zuko’s gaze. “Not really.” Sokka replied, “she’s avoiding me too.” 

Nodding, Zuko gave him a tight lipped smile, “what did you do?”

“I wish I knew.” Sokka could only make assumptions about why Y/N had begun to avoid him, but at the end of the day was confused over it.

He really needed to talk to her. 

As the day of Sozin’s Comet drew closer, Sokka had started trying to talk to Y/N more and more, she’d keep basic conversation but whenever he tried to address... the kiss, Y/N would shut down the conversation. And now, it was the day of Sozin’s Comet, and they established that Zuko and Katara would take on Azula, Aang would take on Ozai, and the rest of them would go after the army that was heading for the Earth Kingdom. 

It seemed that Sokka intended to try to speak with her once more as he approached her while she strapped a dagger to her thigh. “We need to talk.” He said, plopping down onto a rock beside her.

“About battle strategy?” She asked, looking to him, “I had some ideas.”

Play dumb, play dumb, play dumb.

Sokka’s brows furrowed as he shook his head, “about the kiss, Y/N.” Y/N tried to hide her shock at his forwardness, he’d never been this blunt before, during his previous attempts to discuss this with her. Turning to him, she prepared to speak but he silenced her, “you’re going to listen this time.” Grimacing, he looked away, towards the horizon. “I don’t know what’s going to happen today. And if something goes wrong, I need you to know-”

“Nothing is going wrong.” Y/N stated firmly. “Nothing. So, we can have this conversation after.” 

Sokka sat up from his place on the rock, moving in front of her, “there’s no way to guarantee that Y/N.” 

Squeezing her eyes shot, Y/N took a deep breath, “I’ll make sure nothing happens to you guys.” She promised, “and I swear we can talk about this after.” She grabs onto his hands, holding them in hers as she looks away. Y/N knew why she was avoiding it. He was right, it was totally possible for one of them to die, and a relationship in the midst of a war was the worst possible idea. After would be better, or at least that’s what she’d told herself.

The pleading look in his eyes almost burns through her resolve as he asks, “will we?” It almost hurts that he doesn’t believe her, but Y/N can’t blame him.

“We need to go.” Her voice was almost a whisper as she releases his hands. Even if she wanted to continue discussing the subject, they needed to begin the battle soon. 

Sokka frowned though, “if you don’t want this, just tell me and I’ll-” He sighed, bringing a hand to his temple. “I’ll stop bothering you.”

Y/n began to shake her head, “you are never a bother to me I just-” Sighing, she looked into his eyes, “I want this. I do, I’m just scared, and we’re in the middle of a war Sokka!” She exclaimed, the words spilling out of her mouth before she can stop them.

“You think I don’t know that?” Sokka cried out, exasperated. “Y/N I’m so scared that something is going to go wrong, and I’ll never get to tell you that I-”

“Don’t say it.” She interrupts, fear in her veins as she watches him.

So, he didn’t. 

If she didn’t feel like she had something to come back to, maybe that would make it easier. Sacrifices would have to be made to reach victory, and Y/N wouldn’t hesitate to be the one to make them if it meant the others survived. They deserved to see the new world, the world of peace, prosperity, and freedom, the one that came after all this.

Y/N could feel the power flooding her as the comet drew closer, pure and raw power. Though this accompanied by her skill would likely help her in the upcoming battle, dozens of Firebenders with half her skill and the power of the comet was something she was definitely worried about. Overpowering them all was unlikely, and in the best case scenario, Y/N could slow them down. But she wasn’t a fool. In war, there were always casualties, and she was prepared to become one of many. 

Then there were the thoughts in the back of her mind. Though nobody had discussed it, the throne could potentially go to her after all this, and that wasn’t really something Y/n was looking forward to debating. Perhaps it was selfish, but Y/N didn’t really care. Was it wrong of her to dream of escaping the shackles that bound her to the Fire Nation since birth, to leave behind the politics and the lies and the pain of it all?

Maybe. 

Sokka knew Y/N had a lot going on in her mind right now. And he knew she was scared of what was to come, and no matter how much it hurt him, he respected her wishes to wait until this battle was over to discuss whatever it was between them. He knew where he stood. But now that Suki had left them, he found himself beginning to regret it. On the top of the Air Balloon, Toph was practically blind, and Sokka could do little in terms of long distance, aside from his boomerang. Which left Y/N to do her best to defend them from the Firebenders that had begun to swarm them. 

“Go!” She cried out, knocking one of the Firebenders off the balloon. “Take out the rest of the fleet.” Y/N dodged the oncoming flames, intercepting them with her own to prevent the others from getting burned.

But Sokka wasn’t going to let anyone die today. “You still owe me a conversation,” came his response, looking down at the bridges on the Air Balloon. “Jump!” Sokka cried out as another ball of fire rushed towards them, he took Toph by the hand and hoped that Y/N followed. 

Thankfully, she did, he took notice of her as he fell towards the bridges extending from the giant hot air balloon. They were all screaming as they fell, and Y/N grunted in pain as she hit Sokka, tumbling over him and off the edge, yelping as her hands grasped the bridge, with little leverage. Toph similarly went over the side, her screams filling Sokka ears as Y/N released one of her hands from the bridge and caught Toph’s wrist. 

Panic flooded Sokka as he scrambled to the edge of the bridge, Y/N’s hand slipping, “Sokka! Hurry up-” Another scream rips out of her as she loses her grip on the edge.

Nearly falling as he grabbed her hand, his chest heaved. “It’s gonna be okay.” He promised, looking into Y/N’s panicked eyes. “It’s gonna be fine Toph!” He cried out to her.

“Yeah, right!” She called out into the wind, the fear evident in her voice despite the sarcastic nature of the comment. “Y/N I don’t wanna die.” 

Y/N almost can’t hear her, too focused on maintaining her grip on both Sokka and Toph’s hands. She exhales slowly, eyes falling on the soldiers that are beginning to make their way down to them as she replied, “you’re gonna be fine, I promise. I’m gonna get you to Sokka, okay?” 

Sokka was internally panicking, he wouldn’t be able to fight back against the incoming soldiers if both his hands were occupied, but his grip was faltering and he couldn’t pull them both up. Grimacing as he looked down at the two, he nodded in agreement to Y/N signaling that he was ready. It made sense in his mind, she would be able to use her free hand to Firebend, which was far more useful than anything he could provide at the moment. 

Inhaling deeply, Y/N looks to Toph, “Toph, I need you to climb up my body, and grab Sokka’s free hand, okay?”

Toph’s death grip on her hand seems to grow stronger, tears brimming her eyes, “I- I don’t think I can.” 

Y/N shakes her head at these words, “yes, yes you can. Bring your legs up to grab my lower body, and then make your way up, okay? Like a tree.”

Toph shook her head rapidly, “I’ve never climbed a tree!”

Sokka couldn’t help but grow impatient as he exclaimed, “there are soldiers coming, Toph please!” His hand was growing sweaty as he used his free hand to throw his sword at one of the oncoming soldiers, effectively knocking him down. 

Y/N felt her arm swing slightly, and watched as Toph blindly extended her legs, finally managing to wrap them around her legs. She released Y/N’s hand and wrapped both arms around her lower body, slowly inching upwards until her legs were around Y/N’s waist and her arms were on her shoulders. “Good job, now reach up, as far as you can, and Sokka’s gonna grab your hand.” Y/n instructed using her free hand to pat the hand that Toph had wrapped around her.

Y/N could feel the young girl’s tears fall onto her shirt as she extended her hand upwards, Sokka’s freehand moving as far down as possible. The strain on Y/N’s body slowly becoming too much as tears leaked out of her eyes.

Maybe it would be better to just... let go.

She quickly shook off those thoughts, Toph, Toph, Toph, she couldn’t do anything brash until Toph was safe. Y/N watched as Sokka’s hand narrowly missed Toph’s. “Sokka, please.” Y/N whispered, looking to him with pleading eyes.

Maybe it was the desperation he heard in her voice that moment, or maybe it was pure luck, put his fingers grazed Toph’s and he latched on, extending his arm as far as possible and gripping her hand. “Now let go of me, and Sokka’s gonna pull you up, okay?” Y/N explained, looking to Sokka, his eyes meeting hers. Y/N quickly realized he couldn’t lift either of them up. Just like her, this was straining his muscles, and Sokka was struggling to keep both of them up. 

“Sokka.” She said, demanding his attention, his eyes met hers, filled with fear as Toph relieved Y/N’s body of her weight and evened out the distribution on Sokka’s body. “You can’t fight back with both your hands taken.” More tears were streaming down her face as she spoke, “a-and... you can’t pull us both up.” Sokka was crying too now, shaking his head rapidly as Y/N simply pointed out the facts.

Toph’s grip on his hand tightened, “we’re all going to die.” There was resignation in her voice, and it hurt Y/N to hear it.

“We’ll figure it out. We are all going to be okay.” He stated firmly, a shaky breath leaving him as he made an attempt to pull them both upwards, a failed attempt.

Squeezing her eyes shut momentarily, Y/N allowed herself to imagine it, a life with Sokka and the rest of her friends. A life where they were all happy. Where everyone made it out of this war alive, and they helped bring balance to the world.

To give them that world, they had to end this war. And what was war without death?

Opening her eyes, she looked to Sokka, and he was panicked, noticing that far more soldiers had surrounded them and were preparing to mercilessly throw them off the balloon. “Sokka.” She repeated, and he looked to her with a tear streaked face. 

“I love you.” 

Everything seemed to slow as she spoke this words, and Y/N didn’t see the horror on his face for long as the grip of his hand faltered when she released it, he was screaming, crying, begging for her to stop. Toph clearly didn’t understand what was going on as she began to call out Y/N’s name in a panic. 

And then she was falling. 

It appeared there would be no after.

It felt peaceful, she decided. Falling. The stress on her body had dissipated and she caught one final glimpse of Sokka’s mortified face before going through the clouds. The comet was visible from where she was, the horizon, it was a beautiful way to die. But staring at the comet she realized she wanted to know what would come after, she realized that Toph was practically helpless and all Sokka had was a boomerang against dozens of Firebenders.

They would die. So, what was the point of her sacrifice? What was the point of her dying?

No, she wouldn’t be dying today.

Inhaling deeply, Y/N felt the power course through her veins, and she reminded herself that she was Y/N L/N, a force to be reckoned with. Nobody would forget that as fire tore through the soles of her shoes, and extended from her hands, propelling her upwards. 

She was the daughter of the famed Dragon of the West. And she would take on his mantle, she decided, as she flew upwards and through the clouds. 

She could see Sokka had managed to bring Toph upwards and onto the platform alongside him, and they were surrounded by Firebenders. It was clear that they’d seen her when their mouthes gaped open, and a few of the soldiers began to retreat, much to the chagrin of their commanding officer. Y/N found herself ceasing her Firebending and falling towards the platform, she landed in a roll and rose on one knee before opening her mouth and allowing fire to pour outwards.

The Firebenders fell off the bridges beside them one by one, and those who didn’t retreated back inside along with the others at the sight of the Air Balloon that Suki had evidently comandeered.

Closing her mouth, Y/N’s chest heaved, and she felt Toph tackle her from behind, “you’re alive!” She exclaimed, punching Y/N’s arm roughly, “idiot.” She dug her head into Y/N’s shirt.

“Yeah, I am an idiot.” Y/N replied breathlessly, holding the girl tightly.

When Toph finally released her, she gave her a smug look, “I’ll give you and him a minute.” Though this was partially an excuse to head back inside and into the safety of the balloon, maybe even attack some of the remaining Firebenders, it was also because Toph could read the room.

And there stood Sokka, mouth gaping open, tears streaming down his smiling face as he looked at her, before lunging towards her similar to how Toph had. Except his hands came to her cheeks as he brought their lips together, effectively knocking the two onto the ground of the platform, be pulled apart from her with a smile on his face, “I love you too.”

Yeah, after was looking pretty good right about now. 

A/N: i hope you guys liked this SUPER LONG THING WOW, that was an accident. i was super close to like breaking everyones hearts and killing Y/N but then i felt bad so be grateful i was nice ksaljdlahfkj

anyways take care of yourselves!

taglists:

atla:  @bubblebars @jada-cleo @art-flirt @the-deli-meat

#sokka x reader #sokka x you #sokka x y/n #sokka atla #atla sokka #atla sokka x reader #sokka atla x reader #atla sokka x you #atla #avatar the last airbender #lok #legend of korra #sokka is a bottom change my mind #im sorry ignore this #i hope no one reads tags #anyways have a nice day #drink water

[psychewithwings]

Relflections

hello, hello,

welcome to the dark side... this is my second collab with bnharem. Please, please, read through the rest of the collab list HERE. I am so grateful to be working with so many other talented writers and artists on this. Special shout out to @doinmybesthere for beta reading and for @kuso-deku whom I dedicate this piece fror giving me the Mirio brain rot...

TW: NSFW, 18++++ Villains, dub-con moments, sex, violence, YANDERE MIRIO, two crazy people, inter dimensional travel, killing, mentions of blood, dirty talk, some cum play

Around 7000 words

Breaking news: We have yet another report to add to the slew of attacks this month, this comes just days after we broadcast rumours of villains running rampant over the city. This spate of attacks has put the entire metropolitan area at a standstill, road closures and damaged property making it difficult for commuters to get to work in the morning. Road maintenance endeavour to do its best to keep the city running, but it seems futile when these attacks continue to increase. The entire city was brought to a standstill by the mysterious villain who has still not been named, but reports show they are nothing like we have ever experienced before. Where are the heroes now? Who will save us from the terror overwhelming our city? Every day the crime toll continues to rise and we have no one here to protect us. The Hero Public Safety Commission assured us earlier in the week that the crime rate would go down, that the top Heroes are out there protecting our city, but if so, where are they? Is it really safe to go out anymore, who can we trust? Would you put your life in the hands of a Hero today? When they have proved our streets are no longer safe. We still have no information on what is going on, or who is involved but we must remain observant. We will continue to report the latest news as we receive it, but for now, we must implore you to heed the warnings of the city-wide curfew that is soon to be implemented. If anyone has any information on these occurrences in the city please send them to us or contact the police, you can remain anonymous. The safety of our citizens is what is most important, stay vigilant and don’t go out unless it is absolutely necessary. One thing we know for sure: we can no longer rely on Heroes to protect us. The streets of our once-great city are no longer safe, we are no longer safe.

You flip off the television and rise from your seat on the couch. Your roommate and the object of your affection had already left for the night. Mirio would never obey that curfew, not as long as there were people he could be saving. That’s Mirio for you… always being the hero, even if he’d lost his quirk ages ago. But ever since the onslaught of new villains, and heroes turning to the darkside you’re patching him up more than normal… He returns with wounds more serious now, the scars abundant on his once smooth skin. He is becoming a reflection of the ruin and carnage that floods the streets. This is why you had come up with, planned out, and prepared for a way to fix everything. You could never stop him from being a hero, it was who he was… but you can get his quirk back… 

You check your pocket one last time… it’s there, wrapped in that small blue handkerchief. You examine the strange item one last time, careful not to prick yourself with it by mistake. It’s shaped like a sewing pin, only slightly larger. One prick, that’s all it takes, one prick and it will absorb the power from the first thing that it touches. Then one more prick, and the next thing it touches will absorb the gathered power. One chance, that’s all you have. 

You grip the chain around your neck and pull the locket out from inside your shirt. You read the engraving on the back, as you always do, and you smile. 

Come back to me ~ Mirio

It had been a gift, something to help you when you were learning how to use your quirk. The going part had always been easy, it was the returning from your travels that had been difficult. You open the locket, one side is a watch, the other a mirror. You check the time and write it down to the second on your arm in biro. 

7:43. 26 PM

You have 8 hours exactly and you fear you’ll need much more time than that. But your quirk’s limits are not forgiving in the slightest. A second longer and you’ll die. 

You take a deep breath, eyes now focussing on the mirror side of the locket. You’d returned this way ever since Mirio gave you the locket, but never once travelled forward through the mirror before. You meet your own eyes and start to feel the familiar pull, your face turning that strange shade of blue. 

Please let this work. Please, take me to Mirio. 

The gravity in the mirror builds and you can feel the surging power of your quirk. You feel yourself meet your reflection, becoming one with it for a split second before you’re absorbed to the other side of the mirror. 

You land in a darkened alley. The smell of stale beer and piss invading your senses, making your head swim even more than normal. The thickness of the summer air does nothing to help. It doesn't matter how many times you use your quirk, it always leaves you dizzy, disoriented. But that was to be expected when travelling to another dimension. Your quirk was dubbed Mirror Image, it allowed you to travel to different dimensions by looking at your own reflection. 

You check your pockets again… it’s still there. The “quirk extractor”, that’s not really what it was called but you’d forgotten the actual name of it. It had taken trying quite a few different dimensions to find something like it. It was very possible that you might never find that place again. You had to treat this like it was the only one in existence, afterall, it was the only one in this existence. But where exactly was this existence?

You blink, vision clearing and you examine the alley. It looks like a regular alley, slimy brick walls, dumpster, broken liquor bottles. A few people walk past on the main street, their laughter echoing off the alley’s walls. A lightbulb buzzes over a shut metal door. But there was no Mirio. The plan was to find a mirror Mirio, a Mirio that had never lost his quirk... extract this Mirio’s quirk and bring it back to your Mirio, the Mirio you loved. 

You had done enough dimensional travel to know that every version of the self was weirdly connected. That’s why you had travelled forward through the mirror he had given you this time. You had hoped it would bring you to another Mirio, since the mirror had never failed to take you back to him… even if you were in a strange corner of the universe. But alas, it was like travelling through any other reflection. As usual, you stand in an unknown location, trying your best to figure out where you’ve ended up. 

You kick a stray tin can in frustration as you walk towards the more populated streets. You laugh at your own stupidity. You knew the real reason you were doing this. Maybe, this act of love, retrieving his stolen quirk would change his mind. Maybe he would take back what he had said all those years ago… the words that would never stop ringing in your ears.

You’re standing on the sidewalk, trying to decide which way to go when the sound of rusty hinges snaps you from your thoughts. You turn to look back down the dim lit alley. A man with shaggy blue hair exits the building, his red eyes gleam and your heart drops. It’s hard to see but you’d know his face anywhere, he’s practically taken over your city, Shigaraki Tomura. Take a few steps to where you’re concealed by the wall of the building. He speaks to someone who is still inside the building. You angle your head to try and hear over the busy street. “They’ve just been getting in the way is all, and I need you to get them out of the way… see?” 

Why did your quirk take you to Shigaraki when you had specifically thought of Mirio? The streetlight’s shadows help to hide your shape. You peek around to see who he is talking to. Your breath hitches in your throat as you see the tall blonde exit from the building’s wall. Mirio. You watch as he leans his shoulder against the brick from which he just emerged. He looks taller, stronger, and still has his quirk… would your Mirio have looked like this if his power had never been robbed?  His grey tshirt is pulled tight around his body and his usually done hair is ungelled, almost messy, bangs hanging just above his eyes. “That’s easy, you have anything actually worth my time?” he jokes. Shigaraki looks unamused, eyes closing in annoyance.

 “Just do it, and don’t make it so messy this time… you tend to leave a trail wherever you go,” Shigaraki scolds. Mirio grins, but it’s not the same warm smile you’d grown to love, this smile is darker, more sinister. “I’ll take care of it boss, sheesh, you worry too much,” he rolls his shoulder on the wall until his back is flush against the brick. He pushes off of it and heads towards the end of the alley. You panic as he heads your way. “It’s that hotel on the corner of Roosevelt and Third,” Shigaraki screeches after Mirio who gives him a wave of his hand. “If you weren’t so useful I’d kill you,” Shigaraki adds. Mirio’s laugh bounces off of the alley walls. “You could try,” he calls as he rounds the corner, just passing you as you crouch near some bags of garbage praying he doesn’t notice you. But he passes you, languidly walking towards the destination he was just given by Shigaraki Tomura. That’s when it hits you… by going through Mirio’s mirror, you have found yourself a mirror Mirio. An exact opposite to the man you know.  

The thoughts are swirling around in your head but there’s no time to sort through them… you have to follow him. You slowly rise from your hiding place and melt into the crowds of people. It’s lucky that Mirio is so tall, it makes him easy to follow from a safe distance away. The crowded main streets turn to less populated side streets and you have to maneuver accordingly to stay well hidden. Mirio approaches a building with a neon sign that spells out HOTEL in red letters. A glowing arrow points to the double doors at the front of the building. He hurries up the steps before slipping inside.  

You follow close behind to make sure not to lose him inside but leave a long enough gap so that it isn’t too obvious. Upon entering, you’re met with the old red carpet that should have been replaced twenty years ago. Dust clings to the fabric of the sofa and cobwebs dangle from the antique crystal chandelier. The floor is well polished however, reflecting the lights that hang from the ceiling. It’s strange that there’s no clerk at the desk but a few people piddle about the lobby. A man makes eye contact with you, furrowing his brow in confusion. A woman in a short, low cut dress slips her hand below another man's belt and whispers something in his ear. No one blinks when Mirio makes a beeline down the hallway to the left. This was not an ordinary hotel. You walk calmly after Mirio and peer down the long dark corridor. There’s not sight of him but you watch the door at the end of the hall close. There. The lights in this section of the hall are off and everything seems quiet, whereas the hall to the right was lit and loud. Sounds of pleasure and partying spilling from underneath each door. You curse Mirio for walking down the more sinister path and follow begrudgingly. 

The hall is dark save one room where hysterical cries seep out. You don’t want to know what was going on and instead keep your eyes trained on the small bit of light that pours from the window inside that end door. Upon closer inspection there is a coating of condensation on the glass. This must be the pool. 

You retrieve the quirk extractor from your pocket and remove it from it’s wrapping, careful not to prick yourself.  You slowly open the door he had gone through just moments ago. You slid inside the door slowly and carefully, making more sound than you would have liked, but it can’t be helped. Any sound easily bounces off the water of the glistening blue pool. The smell of chlorine is overwhelming and you start to realise that there aren’t very many good hiding places in a place like this.... And Mirio is nowhere to be found. You grip the quirk extractor as you hear a door towards the back of the room slam shut. Another exit… your footsteps echo far more than you would like for them to as you head towards the door. 

“Gotchya.”

The voice startles you. Your grip on the quirk extractor falters, coupled with the way you jump… you watch as it slowly descends into the water, effectively pricking the pool. The ball at the end of the extractor emits a green light as it sinks to the bottom. “You idiot!” you shout before you can think better of it. Mirio steps from the wall and quirks an eyebrow up at you. “Me idiot? You’re the one following me with the stealth of one of the 3 stooges.”

He looks even more dangerous up close. A long scar descends from his chin down his neck. And while his eyes are the same colour, there’s a glint in them which your Mirio lacks. He’s faster as this version of himself, and you don’t have time to think before your back is against the cold tile wall. “So gorgeous, gonna tell me what that thing was and why you’re following me… or will I just rip the answers out of you one by one.” You’re too confused watching as he looms over you. His expression is half pleased, half irritated. You inhale to speak but the words don’t come. The smile on his face right now… it’s the expression of someone who has killed and enjoyed it. It’s never something you could have pictured to play across Mirio’s face and it jars you. A chill runs up your spine and goosebumps prickle on your arms. He’s terrifying but also so beautiful. 

One of his hands moves up to grip your throat as he growls, “I’m waiting, bitch.” You flail as his grip tightens, scratching your nails into his arm in hopes that he will let go.  “Please Mirio, I-I’m sorry.” His grip loosens suddenly but his hand stays around your neck. “What did you call me?” You cough and inhale, then meet his eyes. There is a familiar curiosity within his gaze but it’s joined by something else, that same strange glint. Is it amusement or something much more sinister? You can’t put your finger on it. “Mirio, your name is Mirio,” you murmur. A sly smile crosses his face as he moves closer to you, his hips pinning yours to the tile. “Yes, but how do you know that?” 

You stutter, trying to find the right words, a sigh haphazardly escaping your lips as the heat from his body becomes intoxicating. “You been sent to spy by the heroes?” You shake your head and try to wiggle free, but only succeed in grinding against him. A low laugh bubbles from his throat as he pins your wrists above your head with one hand and stills your hips with his other. “That’s real cute, but not gonna get you out of trouble with me…” His eyes flick down your body then back up. “Quite the opposite actually,” he teases. Your face feels warm and your eyes dart down and away. “Aww you’re so shy now, makes me wanna eat you up.” Mirio tilts your chin upwards so you’re looking at him. His eyes have softened slightly. “Just tell me,okay? I don’t wanna have to hurt ya.” There's a strange pleading in his tone, a sincerity you didn't expect. “We know each other, Mirio… well sort of,” you match the tone of his voice. A smirk breaks on his face, “are you my stalker?” You roll your eyes, he still had a sense of humour in this universe. It’s nice to know some things never change. 

“No, no we’re friends, but I know a different… you.” He blinks before his eyes narrow. He starts to speak but you continue to explain… about your quirk, the Mirio you know, and how you’d planned to steal his quirk. You show him your locket, the engraving. He still seems suspicious as he turns it over in his hands, examining it. “You’re a crafty little liar, I’ll give you that, had this made and all, but now I’ll have to pull the truth out of you, and like I said, I really didn’t want to have to do that to you.” “Wait… I can prove it, just let me use the mirror… then I’ll leave you alone.” Mirio looks you up and down again before opening the locket and holding it out for you. 

You focus on your reflection and watch as your face turns that strange blue black colour. Guilt seeps from your mind and travels down your spine as you’re pulled towards your reflection. The quirk extractor was sitting at the bottom of the pool, now carrying within it the power of chlorine… You hadn’t helped Mirio, only discovered a dark side to his existence… which wasn’t all that bad it seemed. He hadn’t harmed you at all, just threatened you slightly and even then it had seemed he was teasing and flirting more than anything. Your Mirio had never flirted with you… on purpose. The pull of the mirror became stronger and there was a strange sadness, a feeling that you would miss this version of Mirio. This version of Mirio was void of the sunshine that the original Mirio held within him at all times, but this Mirio seemed to see you. This Mirio had given you more in a few seconds than the original Mirio had in years. You shut your eyes as you began to fall into the mirror’s reflection. The original Mirio’s words that he’d said to you that day still hanging heavy in your heart. You laugh at your own pathetic nature for the second time today. You fantasies of Mirio were just that… just fantasies. In all universes. 

A hand pushes you backwards away from the mirror. The impact is so strong you stumble, but the same hand catches you and pulls you into him. You gasp for air, your head reeling from being ripped from the portal. Mirio holds you close, rubbing a hand up and down your back. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt you, I just- I didn’t want you to go.” His voice is riddled with guilt, shaking slightly. You fist your hands into his shirt, gripping the fabric as you struggle to stand. “Whoa whoa, hey,” he consoles as he sinks to his knees, bringing you with him. He wraps his arms around you and pulls you into his lap. “I really didn’t mean to- I’m sorry,” he murmurs. “I’m okay, I’ve just never been pulled from a portal before,” you stutter. His thumb brushes over your face temple. “You remember your name?” You state your name and he repeats it, “Y/n… I love it.” A smile plays on your features, cheeks heating once again upon hearing the compliment. “Hey, what’s 2 + 2?” 

“4,”

“Damn, well I guess you’re a math wiz.”

Your eyes flutter open and he smiles, “there she is.” You squeeze your eyes shut then open them once more in an effort to stop the room from spinning. “Are you gonna kill me now?” you drawl. Mirio pouts, “well that depends, are you still gonna steal my quirk for other me?” You laugh and roll your head away from him. “I can’t, it’s in the pool now, it’s absorbed the fucking power of chlorine.” Mirio laughs, “well whose fault is that?” You look up at him, there’s an intensity to his gaze when you meet his eyes. Your heart hammers against your chest… “yours.” You start to sit up, his arms still cling to you. “You’re the dummy who let go just ‘cuz I scared you.” You hum considering his words, “you don’t scare me Mirio.” 

His arms relax around you and you move to lay down on the tile floor. Your back relaxes against the floor and you move your arms over your head to rest your head in your hands. “You should be afraid, I’m a whole different me, sweetheart,” he remarks. He moves to lay next to you, mimicking your position. “You’re still Mirio,” you sigh, your eyes taking in the blank space of the ceiling. “You don’t know the things I’ve done, my body count, nothing.” “You’re still Mirio,” you insist. Laying like this you can hear the echo of your words bouncing off of the water. “He’s lucky, other me… to have a girl like you.” His last few words are whispered, failing to bounce around the room. They hang over you, adding weight to the atmosphere. “Ah well, the Mirio in my universe doesn’t see it that way,” you deflect. Mirio rolls to face you, his head laying in the crook of his arm. “I know we don’t know each other… not really, but it’s strange, I feel like I’ve known you forever.” You turn your head to look at him. His eyes are practically on fire now, that small glint having grown into a flame. “In a way we have, I know a version of you… what I’ve come to find is every universe has overlaps of some sort… you and the Mirio I know will share some things… memories even.” Mirio’s face lights up, “yes exactly, I feel like I’ve seen you in a dream or something…” You shrug, “it’s possible.” Mirio smiles, it’s a familiar smile, a sincere happiness that the Mirio of your universe wears often. Much different than the smiles this Mirio had even just a few moments ago. 

“Why are you a villain?” you ask him. Mirio clutches his chest in mock pain. “That hurts, sweetheart… Just because I don’t accept the truths the rule makers of our world have given me… that’s what makes me a “villain”?” You narrow your eyes, “I meant more that you’re a hitman working for Shigaraki Tomura.” He laughs, “heard that did you? Guess you were following me for longer than I’d realised.” He pauses and moves closer to you. “I have no problem getting rid of a few people who won’t contribute anything of value… most lives are a total waste, I’m merely an exterminator… getting rid of the bad to make more space for the good…” He says it so casually that it makes chills run up your spine. “So does that make you the good or the bad?” He laughs again though this time he is less amused with your question. “I’m just a sacrificial pawn, sweetheart… can’t be good to make space for it.” 

You reach out and touch his bare arm. His skin is hot against his fingertips. “You didn’t hurt me… when you thought I was lying, you can’t be bad…” He smiles, “That’s just because I see how good you are and I want to protect that… protect you.” His hand begins to mirror yours, stroking up and down your arm with light fingertips. “If you can see the good, then that makes you good.” 

His fingers grip into your arm and he pulls you closer to him. He reaches for the back of your neck when he notices the smudge of ink on his hand. He examines your arm and finds the numbers. “What’s this?” he asks. You sigh, “it’s the time I have to go…” He pulls your face closer to his, your noses almost touching. “You can’t stay?” You shake your head, “Only for 8 hours, else I’ll be torn apart by the universal pulls… I’m not really supposed to be here ya know,” you joke. Mirio’s face falls, “Can you come back?” You shrug, “I can but the time I can stay is deducted every single time I return to a universe until I can no longer visit anymore…” Mirio’s thumb rubs soft circles into the flesh of your cheek. “What should we do then?” he asks. You smile sadly before sitting up. You give him an impish smirk. “Well, there’s a pool, I say we swim.” 

You start by removing your top, slowly peeling it away and discarding it to the floor. Mirio follows, taking off his grey tshirt. His figure is chiseled, each muscle toned and defined. You start unbuttoning your trousers when you feel the heat of his chest flush against your back. “Can I?” he asks as his hands rest on your hips. You nod and he slowly pulls your pants down your legs. He helps you step out of them before throwing them towards the growing pile of clothes. “You’re so beautiful,” he murmurs into your skin, trailing kisses up your thighs. You grab his face with two hands and pull him to standing. “My turn,” you smirk, looping your fingers in his belt loops and pulling him towards you. You undo his pants, kissing down his chest. Savoring the taste of his skin. He groans at your touch and you feel the heat pooling low in your belly. His pants removed his stands only in grey underwear, while you remain in your bra and panties. 

You teasingly move away from him and stand on the first rung of the ladder in the deep end of the pool. You look back to where he stands, calling him to you with your gaze. He groans as he moves towards you. “I’m really holding back you know,” he growls, pressing his chest against your back, his a. “Why hold back? You can have whatever you want… Just take it, make it yours.” Mirio trails his lips up your neck, ready to suckle a mark into your skin, when you add, “if you can,” and step off the ladder into the blue water. 

As soon as the water touches your skin you’re swimming towards the other side. You hear Mirio dive in after you and know that this has all been futile. He grabs your hand and slings you gently towards the wall. He places both of his hands on either side of your body, pinning you. You wipe the water from your eyes before wrapping them around his neck. “You caught me so fast… I thought you’d chase me around more,” you provoke. He shakes the water from his hair and moves his body closer to yours. “Chasing you is a waste of fucking time right? I want to have you,” he growls. You open your mouth to say something but are silenced by his lips on yours. 

The kiss is needy, sloppy. He kisses you like he’s starving, finally being fed. His tongue draws circles around yours before sucking it into his mouth. You moan into the kiss and he responds by pulling you closer, grinding on your clothed cunt with his hardening cock. He moves to run his tongue along your bottom lip before nipping at it. You sight into the kiss, turning your head to deepen it. You pull away a wry smile on your face. Mirio’s pupils are blown, that unfamiliar glint in his eye now having a name for it, desire. 

“Miri, I want you,” his hips stutter against yours upon hearing this. “Fuck princess, I won’t be able to hold back anymore if you keep looking at me like that.” You pepper kisses to his face, tasting the chlorine on his skin. “Don’t hold back,” you whisper, “I trust you, you’re good to me, I’m yours if that’s what you really want.” His breath shakes upon hearing this and he presses his forehead to yours. “Mine? All fucking mine? Like this me?” You nod and kiss him again. This time you catch his bottom lip and suck it, pulling on it just to hear him moan. 

He helps lift you to where you’re sitting on the edge of the pool. He peels your panties down your legs before spreading them. He kisses one of your thighs before massaging the other. “So fucking perfect,” he praises, “all fucking mine.” He trails his hand and mouth up the inside of your thigh. He spreads your folds, drinking in the sight of your bare cunt. “Fuck, you’re perfect,” he sighs. “I’m gonna make you forget about any other versions of me, you’re going to be all mine.” He presses a kiss to your clit, “gonna be all fucking mine, princess.” 

He drags his tongue, slow, up your slit and circles it around your clit before sucking on it gently. You stifle a whine and you can feel him smiling in pride. “That is princess, lemme hear those sweet sounds.” He does the same move again and this time you don’t hold it in. Your sounds of pleasure echo around the pool, bouncing around and finally landing back on your own ears. But you don’t hear them, as you’re too lost in the pleasure. Mirio grips the wall of the pool with one hand while the other comes up to rest on your lower abdomen. His thumb starts rubbing soft circles on your clit while his tongue circles your hole. “Tastes so fucking good,” he growls and then shoves his tongue inside. The muscle is hot, wet, and he slowly begins to add more pressure to your clit while tongue fucking you. You’re completely overcome with a mind melting pleasure as you fall back onto your elbows, your hips grinding against his face. You aren’t sure how, but you can already feel that familiar knot forming in the pit of your stomach. You’re close and Mirio seems to know as he picks up the pace. “Cum all over my face- wanna taste you-” His permission was all you needed and soon you’re clamping down around his tongue, calling broken syllables of his name. He kisses your cunt as you come down from your high. “Such a good girl for me, cumming when I say.”

He lifts himself out of the pool and removes his underwear. He’s thick, incredibly so and long. The head is red, leaking pre cum. You groan at the sight, cunt aching to be filled. You reach for him, pulling him on top of you. He kisses you, deep, passionate, with lots of tongue and teeth. You can feel his cock, thick and hard pressing into your thigh. He ruts his hips into yours, his cock sliding along your thigh. “Please,” you beg. He growls and flips you to where you’re on top and he sits pressing you to him, cock wedged between the two of you. You grind against him in anticipation. “Please Miri,” you plead. He lifts you and in one swift move, you’re impaled on his cock. 

You cry out, and it echoes back to you. The stretch is incredible, a pleasurable, dull pain that makes your eyes roll into the back of your head. He carefully thrusts up into you, and you crumble, burying your face in the crook of his neck. “I don’t wanna hurt my baby,” he coos, body stilling. You shake your head, “no it feels good, y-you're just so big.” He laughs darkly, “you love the pain, don't you?” He gives another thrust to test your reaction and this time he can feel it. Your pussy dripping down his cock.He looks down, eyes blowing at the sight, “fuck baby look, I’m not even all the way inside…” You look down and moan, his cock is a little over half inside. It’s too big to fit all the way. “You cute little cunt keeps throbbing on my cock, and when she does, she drools.” He wipes up some of your combined juices with his thumb and rubs into your clit again, just as he had before. Then he starts to move. 

He starts slowly bouncing you in his lap at a gentle pace, but soon his eyes change and his thrusts become harder and faster. “I’m sorry princess, but you feel too good, I need more of you, need all of you.” Mirio fucks into you harder, his cock so big he hits every spot inside of you that makes you weak with each thrust. Your cries become louder and more desperate. His cock kissing your cervix with each thrust causes you to disintegrate in his lap. The lewd sounds of his hips smacking into your ass fills the pool. Mirio’s eyes flick down and he growls. “Look at that baby, ‘m all the way inside now, doing so good, so fucking perfect taking every inch I have to give. God you’re fucking made for me.” You sink your teeth into his neck in a desperate effort to stave off your orgasm, to savor the moment you’d waited so long for. The moment where you and Mirio Togata become one. But it feels too good, the pleasure so intense that you’re pushed over the edge again, clenching tightly around Mirio’s fat cock. “Fuck baby, do that again, milk my cock for me while I fuck you into my shape.” 

His thrusts become sloppier but he manages to continue to hit all your spots, driving his cock into you at a bruising pace. You’re shaking in his lap, body convulsing from your last orgasm as another starts to build. “Fucking hell baby, you’re so fucking perfect, and you’re mine, all fucking mine.” His hips start to stutter but his pace quickens. “I’m all yours Miri, yes, I’m yours,” you moan. He pulls your head towards him and kisses you with that same hunger as before, teeth gripping at your lower lip and him sucking on your tongue. You moan into his mouth as your orgasm washes over you, white hot. It’s too much and sends him over the edge. “That’s it, milk my cock, milk my fucking cock,” he pants, pouring his cum deep inside you. “I’m gonna get you pregnant, gonna make you mine forever,” he growls as his hot ropes of cum still paint your walls. 

Your body is shaking, the post orgasm cold mixed with your wet body has goosebumps prickling your body. He pulls his cock out and groans at the way his cum drips from your hole. He smiles, “you’re even more beautiful now that I’ve claimed you.” You smile against his skin. “I feel more beautiful,” you reply. But Mirio’s words ring in your ears. You sit up quickly but wince. “I hurt you, I’m so-” “No, that isn’t it…” You lay your head in the crook of his neck. “The longer I’m here in this dimension the weaker I become… but I’m okay, don't worry.” You nuzzle into him, trying to steal some of his warmth. He caresses your back, “I wish you could stay…” “I-I have to go back, we can’t be together forever, even though it’s all I want,” when you finally say the words you start to cry. Mirio wraps his arms around you. “You’re cold,” he says. He helps you up holding your hands, “can you stand?” You nod and he walks you back towards the shallow end of the water. He eases himself in first and then takes your hand to help you do the same. 

He cradles you to him, “but you can go back to other me, and when you make love to him, you can just think of me… we’re the same.” You look into his eyes, face pleading, “that’s just it Mirio, you aren’t the same at all… he will never love me.” Mirio’s face darkens, anger, pure anger resides in his features. “Why not?” You take a deep breath. These were the words that haunted you from the moment the other Mirio had spoken them. “He told me, I will always love you, but I will never, ever, love you like that.” You whisper this secret to him.

Mirio can see it, the weight you’ve carried in your heart. That Mirio might save people all day long, be an actual hero, but he’s the one that’s more fucked… evil. Breaking the most perfect girl he has ever known into small pieces. No, Mirio could never let such evil exist, even if that evil was technically himself. “I’m gonna kill him,” he vows as he cradles you protectively. 

Your eyes widen, and you grip onto his face. He looks at you, smiling. “Miri, do you really want to be with me forever?” He nods and kisses you, “more than anything, you’re mine now, I’ve claimed you, you belong to me.” “I belong to you,” you echo and press your forehead against his. “I think I know a way,” you inform, the grin breaking over your face. He awaits an explanation with wide eyes. “You can come back to my world with me.” Mirio narrows his eyes in confusion, “won’t that kill me? Like it kills you?” You shake your head, “no… that just has to do with the limitations of my quirk… I’ve brought someone back with me before, the only thing is… that there’s already a Mirio in my universe, which could technically throw time and space out of balance. But there’s a small window where it wouldn’t… and if you really want to kill him… then there would only be one again.” You smile and hold his face, peppering it with kisses. “You can kill him and take his place!” 

You’re met with Mirio’s grin and another sloppy kiss. “I knew I was right about you, you’re perfect.” You both climb out of the pool and dress in your clothes again. You put the locket around your neck and open it focussing on your reflection. For the first time, holding the mirror, you don’t feel the weight of the other Mirio’s words. This Mirio, now your Mirio, has filled the void that the Mirio of your universe put inside your heart. You wonder now if you’d really loved him all this time or if it was a disguised hatred and rage. You’d always found blood somewhat disturbing but now you were excited to see it. Excited to watch the man who hurt you bleed out and be destroyed by the man you loved. Excited to watch him die. 

 You grip Mirio’s hand in yours, finger interlaced. “Just don’t let go, no matter what, okay?” Mirio kisses your hand. “I won’t, swear,” he confirms. 

Your face begins to change and you feel the gravity sucking you back into your reflection, but this time, you won’t be returning to him alone and in pieces. You’ll be returning to him whole.  This time… it would be him lying in pieces on the floor. 

#mirio #mirio togata #mirio smut #bnha #mha #bnha mirio #villain mirio #bnharem collab #bnharem #villain au

[sukiglycerin]

dolce (sweetly, softly, gently)

* pairing: accompanist/violinist!katsuki bakugou x violinist!reader (gender neutral!) ft kamijirou

* genre: fluff, kinda angst, enemies to lovers, classical musician au hehe

* words: 9.5k (holy crap, this was a rollercoaster to write)

* warnings: swearing bc not only does bakugou exist, he is a prominent character, brief viola/second violinist jokes (reader’s words not mine), poor rosins being dropped :(

* a/n: SO this is very late for @prettysetterbaby​‘s v-day collab!! pls check out all the other talented writers involved >< jj is an ANGEL for putting up with me being late T_T  there’s some violin terminology in here but it’s fine if you don’t understand it! more notes at the end aha

* playlist (spotify in source link): violin sonata no.9, op.47 in a major “kreutzer” (beethoven) ; liebesfreud (kriesler) ; violin partita no.3 in e major (bach) ; duo concertante for 2 violins no.3 in d-sharp major, op.57 (beriot) ; clair de lune (debussy) ; duo for 2 violins in d-major, op.67, no.2 (spohr) ; 24 caprices op.1, no.24 in a minor (paganini)

* synopsis: being a soloist is not made easy by your new accompanist, bakugou. you step on each other’s toes when playing - but that’s alright, he’s just a pianist. you’re separated in your two worlds of musical instruments, until one day, you’re not. bakugou traverses over realms like a simple string crossing, and there’s a lot more he’s brought with him.

a double stop in violin is a technique in which two notes are played simultaneously. played correctly, one violin playing two notes should sound like two violins playing separate notes. if your life was a violin, you only needed double stops to play it. you'd perfected the art of being alone, playing the parts of two in your sad solo sonata. you were so, so sure you could compose and play for the whole orchestra - a symphony that would surely please the audience.

you were wrong. after all, a double stop has its limits as well, impossible to play with an interval of larger than a tenth. you were content with your double stops and playing by yourself. this was how you won countless competitions - what good would changing anything be?

you were born a soloist, or that's what your parents would say. you never followed the crowd, sticking to your own mind and doing what was true to you. you never worked well in an orchestra setting (and who knew what would become of you if you ever landed in second violin!). thus, you became a soloist, determined to keep the spotlight on you. it was you and your perfection that kept the eyes of the audience transfixed; you were desperate to keep their focus enraptured by every slight movement of your bow, every shift in finger position on the fingerboard. you wanted them to follow every dynamic and tempo change like their life depended on it, feel their emotion spark the moment your bow pressed a string. you were the only one on stage, an entertainer and an artist to the audience. you brought joy and sorrow through key changes and wonder through glissandos and held suspense with every tremolo. the audience was yours for an entire piece, for a story, for a lifetime.

oh, and there was the accompanist. what was his name again? batsugou? bakugou. the last part was a joke, of course. you'd never forget the man who ruined your first recital overseas.

katsuki bakugou was quickly made your accompanist after the previous one quit last minute and schedule clashes between any other potential candidates rendered them unable to travel with you. no one in their right mind would've come along on a plane to play a piano accompaniment for you. indeed, bakugou was not in his right mind. his name was prominent locally, an orchestral prodigy with the gift of perfect pitch since the tender age of thirteen. he never ventured internationally, though given the chance multiple times to do so. you could never understand why he never took any of the opportunities. you'd jump at any chance of expanding your musical horizons and performing for a larger audience, so it frustrated you to see someone with such potential to throw away possibly beneficial opportunities. not that you really paid much attention to him, anyway. bakugou was a pianist, and you were a violinist. you only cared about competition, not those with blessings you could only dream of achieving.

the months leading to your recital, bakugou had gone quiet. well, you didn't know him personally, so it was news of him that had gone practically radio silent. he was no longer featured in news articles or even pinned on bulletin boards for upcoming recitals. there were no updates from him on social media, too. not that you really paid attention, anyway. he was a prodigy, gifted naturally with talent, and you were a violinist.

an ambitious violinist, at that. you had dreams to perform anywhere out of the stifling air of japan. even to fly a short distance to south korea would be amazing, because it meant you'd be outside of japan. you worked towards this goal tirelessly. you dreamed of stepping on a plane, violin case in your right hand and your dreams in another, to fly to another country and perform. you wished to see the talent beyond your own bubble and feel the music resonate in an auditorium in a different way than it did in japan.

one day, that dream was realized. your violin case in one hand and dreams in another, you boarded the plane flying out of japan full of hope and the faith that good days were coming. while yes, you didn't expect to step out of that plane with anyone but your old accompanist, momo, bakugou's presence comforted you in the foreign atmosphere. for the first ten minutes, he said not a word to you but made it a point to speak to everyone else he could in what seemed like very convincingly fluent english. 

to which you finally mustered up the courage to say, in japanese, "i thought you didn't travel internationally."

his japanese voice was a comforting sound. "i don't. this is my first time out of japan."

you stared at him like he just said he ate babies for breakfast (which seemed just as astronomically insane as him never stepping foot out of japan). 

"but-" you stuttered. "your english is so good?"

"only because you can't understand it." 

to be fair, he had a point. you could only say the basics, like, "hi," "how are you?", "i'm fine, and you?," and the ever-so useful, "do you speak japanese? my english is not good." he appeared to never use any of these phrases, so he was a god in english compared to you. 

it was a miracle you navigated out of the airport with your luggage in hand and a general idea of how to get to the hotel you'd booked. you're not going to talk about the events in the hotel, though. sharing a bed with bakugou was a whole different story that consisted of him complaining about your phone usage at eleven pm and you complaining about his lack of sufficient english skills to be able to get the right hotel room (which he'd retort by saying "at least i speak english!").

the path to your first international competition was rocky, so understandably by the day of the performance, your metaphorical feet were sore and you only had water on your metaphorical mind. that is to say, you hadn't practiced with bakugou once until the day before the performance. said rehearsal was cut short due to misunderstandings as a result of bakugou's apparent not-so-fluency in english. you felt bad for him at this point.

and then you were up on stage, violin in one hand, bow in the other, and arms full of your childhood aspirations. also, definitely not prepared enough. you glanced once at bakugou before beginning and he looked confident enough. the lesson you learned that day was that looks can be deceiving. 

something you could remember quite clearly was the way the spotlight shined on the varnish of your instrument as you held it, propped between your chin and shoulder. you focused on this shine before taking a deep breath, closing your eyes, and praying muscle memory would take over and you'd play the piece faithfully to the score.

you liked to think your playing was accurate. you, the soloist, were the main focus of the piece. the accompaniment made the piece richer and fuller, complementing the violin beautifully while keeping attention on said violin. the thing was, bakugou, like you, played like a soloist. 

the performance was like a fight, and sadly not the graceful kind you'd see in a ballet. it was gory and a nuance to the ears, melodic tinkling of the piano becoming tears of a soldier dying in combat. at parts, you clashed by overshadowing the other by playing too loudly. sometimes it was you, and sometimes it was bakugou. it was a merciless game of tag; bakugou would be running to keep up with your playing; once achieving so, you were forced to start chasing after him. you can't exactly remember if he played well, though. for certain, he was not in sync with you, but you were mainly too preoccupied with your own playing to pay attention to his. listening to the recording of the performance, you were unable to evaluate his quality of playing properly, and thus, he remained your accompanist even when you returned to japan. 

(actually, the biggest reason he stayed your accompanist was because of your classical musician friends' nagging. they were all in complete awe that the famous soloist, katsuki bakugou, had offered to be your accompanist, and begged for an autograph. of course, you declined.)

you figured that like you, bakugou was a soloist. he wasn't fit to assist your playing, far more suited to his own solos to entrance the audience with only his playing. being a soloist, he played like one too - that's simply how things worked. this understanding of him, though, still couldn't stop you from harbouring a small grudge against him for ruining your international debut.

and then there was the man himself, all standoffish and rough in words and persona. obscenities had no hesitation coming (thrust!) from his mouth. he yelled brashly and frequently and it astonished you that he was a classical musician, as most of your friends of the classical music profession were typically on the quiet, softer spoken side. those that were extroverts were optimistically so, in far contrast to bakugou, who you'd expect from looks alone to be playing in some heavy metal band. it was scary to hear his renditions of debussy's dreamy, serendipitous pieces when over your earbuds, he was yelling at some guy named "shitty hair" on his phone. you were curious how he looked recording the piece.

you didn't typically communicate, though. conversation, which only ever existed during rehearsal, was a question from you and a clipped grunt in response. there was nothing else to your relation; he played his part, and you played yours. sometimes you did this simultaneously, but it was as if you were playing two completely different things. performance, according to your friends, was now stilted. this was partially the reason you stopped listening to recorded performances. it wasn’t even like you’d ever derived pleasure from listening to them - you only nitpicked your mistakes.

your old accompanist, momo, on the other hand, was an absolute angel. she was kind, polite, and skilled on the piano, fingers dancing over the keys like a graceful ballet. you fit well with her; each performance was like a delightful conversation between friends, pleasant on the ears and twinkling with joy and laughter. with her, every performance felt like something resembling victory, even if it wasn’t a competition. to you, winning the audience’s gaze was enough. 

then again, you didn't feel that you could judge quite yet. momo was your accompanist for years, and you could barely remember how the two of you sounded when you first started out. bakugou had been your accompanist for mere months (though it did feel much, much longer considering how frustrating he could be). you couldn't understand why he became your accompanist at all. 

opposites. it was an accurate representation of your relationship with bakugou. he was a pianist, you weren't. he was a prodigy, you weren't. he was blessed with talent, you weren't. there was nothing to talk to him about, obviously, because of these dividing factors.

the longer you knew him, the more your disdain for the man grew. at rehearsals, it always felt like your performances were about him, him, and him. he was the star piano player, of course. he hadn't volunteered to be your accompanist as a sense of "stepping down"; no, no, rather, he was flaunting his piano playing with a violin playing in the background. he played perfectly. for a soloist.

as time passed, these frustrations with him became more and more apparent. you became acutely aware of how his performance would outshine your own, and it sickened you. slowly, the quality of your own performances took a nosedive. if the piece was originally pianissimo, you'd take it up to piano (then, if bakugou increased his volume, forte). if the tempo was andante and he was playing moderato, you'd play allegro. it was a competition at this point - instigated by him, of course. you were just upping the ante, even if it meant sacrificing your own artistry.

a lot of people warned you of what would happen, but you ignored them. the fierce competition you felt between you and bakugou caused your own downfall as a musician. slowly, gigs stopped trickling in, like a faucet being shut off. you blamed this on bakugou. ("i was international before him. now, i can barely get a gig in musutafu! why does everyone think he's so great?" you had fumed over the phone to jirou, your old roommate from university. she asked you if you had even listened to him play.)

you were scrambling for places to perform at this point. (“fire him,” the very unhelpful hagakure told you. you didn’t know what you were thinking when you asked her, a violist in a local orchestra. it wasn’t like she ever got a solo.) you’d seriously considered doing so, but came up empty when looking for another accompanist. online forums and friends’ connections could only do so much. they were all either unavailable during rehearsal schedules or inadequate in terms of adapting to the music given. 

“you need to try working together with him,” jirou advised you one day over the phone. 

“yeah, say that to yourself and kaminari,” you muttered bitterly under your breath. kaminari was a guitarist in jirou’s band who hadn’t quite gotten along with jirou well. jirou made fun of the lightning bolt streak in his hair. when you first met them, all they did was bicker day and night; now, according to the other guitarist, tokoyami, they still did this, though on a smaller scale. 

she heard you. “well,” jirou said, slightly ticked off, “we get along better now. because of communication. look- i’m not saying you need to be best friends with bakugou or anything, but you need to talk to him about what’s working and what’s not. respect him as another musician, y’know?” 

“i’ll… try,” you said begrudgingly. 

you heard a muffled yell from the other side of the call. “kaminari, you idiot!” jirou called, voice a bit far. “what did i tell you about plugging in the amp? i said not to-” she cut herself off. “sorry, y/n, i need to go now. kaminari’s back to his normal antics.” she sighed, but it sounded more endeared than irritated. the call ended. 

respect bakugou as another musician. you could do that. bakugou was only a pianist. you were a violinist. he was your accompanist. he was to support your playing. you’d forever be separated from him, doing your own thing. he, certainly, couldn’t understand the woes of being a violinist. not the intonation nor the techniques; you were sure that if you handed him a violin on the spot, he wouldn’t be able to even hold the bow properly. the notion of bakugou, piano prodigy, struggling to make a decent sound on the violin with a bow clenched in an ungainly grip deeply amused you. 

these thoughts kept your relationship with bakugou afloat and restrained you from strangling him every time he stepped a toe out of line during rehearsals. ploddingly, with as minimal communication as you could manage, you tried to play with bakugou together, as a duet rather than as two soloists playing simultaneously. you swallowed your pride to play accurately to the music, patiently explaining any qualms you had with bakugou’s playing. 

eventually, you found yourself building up your performances to the quality they had once been with momo. it was still far from the pristine playing that led you to an international invite - but it was an improvement, and that was all that mattered to you. innately, you were slightly ashamed of the thoughts that allowed you to keep working with bakugou. they were thoughts that told of your superiority to him, because he was playing piano for you. that’s all he was; an accompaniment to you. you told yourself that having these thoughts on the inside was better than fighting with bakugou. 

somehow, along the strings of notes slurred together and shifts of fingers from one spot on a string to the next, you found yourself experiencing a strange joy gliding your bow against the strings of your violin. the rich sound of your instrument, withering and blooming with every stroke of vibrato you performed, fulfilled you unlike how it ever had before. up until now, you’d been playing for the audience, rather than yourself. the melody reverberating in the hollow body of your violin was never for your own ears to enjoy, it was for the audience’s satisfaction and listening pleasure. for it was their own enjoyment that won you competition after competition, playing with a blank face. on some occasions, you’d open your eyes during the applause to see some audience members crying, which ultimately confused you. how you were able to draw emotions from them with your playing when the music was unable to render you anything but indifferent? 

you knew it in yourself, though, that the happiness you felt was hollow. delightful notes supposed to boast joy and love echoed in the rehearsal room, falling flat on your ears.

you were a soloist, though. you couldn’t let thoughts like these get to you. you could only play, for both your pride and your audience. these woes were for you to shoulder, on top of the violin you held between your chin and collarbone. 

“you’re here early,” bakugou commented one day, opening the door to your shared rehearsal room. tucked under one arm was his folder of sheet music. he caught you in the middle of practicing one of the pieces for a gig - liebesfreud, by fritz kreisler. 

it was true. the morning sun basked the window sill and laminate flooring, warming the particular spots it shone through. you’d arrived an hour or so early. pleased by the bright nature of the morning, you pulled up the blinds. typically, you ran late, arriving ten minutes after bakugou’s text of “you’re late again, idiot” with a coffee and a bagel in your hands. those mornings, you were really grateful for having a case with backpack straps. if you hadn’t the time to eat your bagel on the way to rehearsal, it was cold and hard by the time you had a lunch break.

thankfully, today was not one of those days. whether it was the sun or the title of the piece (“love’s joy,” how wonderful), you’d woken up and decided that today, you’d have a warm and soft bagel for breakfast. you had a coupon for a free coffee and surprisingly, the commute to rehearsals was more punctual than usual. thus, you arrived an hour early, a smile on your face as you opened the door. you opened your case with extra care and rosined your bow with extra zest, humming a tune you heard playing on the radio. bakugou would’ve had a heart attack had he saw you then.

you ignored his entrance, only peeping one eye open at the man and nodding your head toward the piano as you continued on with the piece. you allowed yourself to become immersed in the music, following the soft pace bakugou set in his playing. closing your eyes, you saw the audience before you and felt your fingers sliding and pressing the strings. time flew while playing the piece; you’d barely noticed that the piece was nearing its end, playing its familiar melody one last time before opening your eyes. a glance at the rosin dusted in between the bridge and fingerboard of your violin satisfied you, like salt on caramel. you surely played just as sweet, smooth and saccharine like the gooey texture of a caramel confection. you relished in the sunlight streaming through into the room, ignoring the shuffling of papers behind you (from bakugou, no doubt). that was how you should play.

“something’s off,” you blearily opened your eyes to the sound of bakugou’s gruff voice. he was frowning, eyebrows furrowed in a not atypical manner. 

“what,” you said flatly. “it sounded fine to me. i didn’t mess up or anything.”

“no,” he replied, deep in thought, crimson eyes darkening a shade. “we don’t have proper… emotion in the music.”

“huh?” you felt a comical question mark rising out of your head. “i played it perfectly to score. it conveys the composer’s emotions to a t,” you said, getting annoyed with the pianist. your grip tightened on your violin’s neck.

“well- yeah,” he gritted his teeth. “but what about your emotions?”

“who cares about my emotions?” you said. “all that matters is that my playing is perfect. the audience feels the emotions, not me.” why else had you been plucked into violin lessons when you were five? surely not for your own enjoyment.

“idiot, that’s definitely not how it is.”

“it’s just violin playing!” you snapped. “it’s not complicated with- with emotions! it’s the same as anything else!”

“you’re wrong,” bakugou coldly answered.

“what would you understand?” you seethed. “you’re just a damn pianist. you follow my lead.”

he ignored your remarks. “why do you play a fucking instrument, then? why bother to enter competitions or recitals?”

“to win, like any other normal person!”

he let out a clipped, exasperated breath. “fuckin’ explains it, then.” he didn’t elaborate. dismissing the topic, he said, “whatever. play the piece from the top. actually try to look at me this time, so we can stay together. put more emphasis on the downbeat at the start.”

“it’s not like you even heard me play the beginning,” you retorted, but made sure to accent that note even more during the replay. pianists. they always were on their high horses.

something you looked forward to every year was the valentine’s recital. the organizers, an old couple, had known you since you were a child, and thus developed a soft spot for you. you were a shoo-in for the event, relied on to learn the music on a short deadline. last year, you played preludio, from bach’s partita for violin no. 3. this year, though, the catch was weird.

“the letter says it’s a violin duet?” you said to jirou while video calling her. “i don’t have a violinist on hand, just a pianist. it’s not like bakugou can suddenly master violin.”

jirou looked at you with a surprised expression. “you don’t know?”

you stared back at her. “know what?”

“he plays violin, too.”

“huh?” you must’ve misheard her. 

she nodded. “he’s pretty good, too. have you not seen the videos?”

“videos?" your eyes widened as you soon realized the implications of bakugou harbouring an aptitude for violin. "i’ve… i’ve got to go.”

“he’s as good as you, y/n,” jirou said with a knowing smile. you were quick to press the hang up button. 

five seconds into teenage bakugou’s rendition of one of paganini’s caprices, you exited youtube.

the next day, you kicked open the door to the practice room. 

“you,” you pointed a finger at bakugou, who sat at the piano midway through a piece. 

“what is it now, dumbass? you’re late again.”

“shut up,” you grumbled. “that’s beside the point. you- you play violin?!”

he shrugged, not avoiding your piercing gaze. “i’ve dabbled in it, yes.”

you shut the door behind you. “and why did you never tell me?!”

“tch. you never asked, did you?”

“you’re my accompanist, i should know these things!”

“you know i play piano, and that’s enough,” bakugou said stubbornly. “i only play piano with you.”

“not anymore.” setting your violin case down, you shuffled through the pocket that held your sheet music. flipping out a packet of sheet music, you thrust it in bakugou’s direction. “here.”

he grabbed the sheets from you, skimming the title. “duo for two violins in…. fuck,” he muttered. “why didn’t you just say no? who even is this from?”

“valentine’s recital. the pay’s good, bakugou, and we need it.”

“you need it,” he mumbled bitterly, holding the sheets out for you. “i don’t.”

“it’s not like i’m happy about it either. since when were you a violinist?”

“since when was it any of your damn business?”

"you're supposed to be my pianist! not anything else!"

you didn’t understand how he could be so musically inclined. you blinked, and your sight smeared, blurring the sight of your feet with the laminate flooring. this wasn't right, you thought as you felt a telltale heat creeping up you. why were you crying now? 

if there was one thing you prided yourself on, it was your violin playing. it seemed to be the only thing you were good at as a child when academics and athletics failed you. sure, you hated it at first (as most children did when their parents forced them to do something), but as time went on, the applause of the audience and the title of "winner" rewarded you enough. you were no prodigy, so you worked endlessly every day to prove yourself worthy. you never understood how you'd worked so hard only to be in the shadows of others so naturally gifted who surely would never understand how much you practiced to become better.

when it came to bakugou, he was never supposed to be better. he was your pianist, talented in a completely different musical realm than your own, so he could never be superior to you - and now he wasn't. he never was. here you were for the past year or so, looking like a fool in bakugou's eyes. on the days you struggled so hard with fourth finger vibrato, he was probably laughing at your inadequacy at violin. as easily as he played the violin, katsuki bakugou played you like a fool.

everything collided when you stepped out of the room, leaving a particular golden haired boy alone to stare at the sheet music you tossed him. your head throbbed with the groggy sensation of almost-tears and anger coursed through your veins.

you couldn't back out of the recital now. you couldn't. 

you couldn't stand to look back into the vermillion eyes of katsuki bakugou now. even more so now, you couldn't.

your solution?

"hey, what's up?" jirou's collected voice filled your ear, your phone pressed to it. 

"hey, kyo, i… kind of did a bad thing," you said, feeling jittery as you sought a commute home. you'd already made up your mind that your sorry-ass wouldn't be able to look bakugou back in the face for the rest of the day.

"...again?" she asked, tone concealing a hint of surprise. "don't tell me it was with bakugou. don't you usually practice now?"

"...usually, yes…" you sheepishly shuffled your feet, standing outside on the sidewalk. "i'll be resuming it again, 'course, when i get home…"

"why aren't you with bakugou right now?"

"that's… that's a long story," you laughed nervously. 

"i can wait," jirou coolly replied. "kaminari got his foot stuck in his guitar case - don't ask - so i have time." 

you considered asking about kaminari, then thought better of it.

"you know about the valentine's day recital they have every year? well, this year…" you recounted the events that led you to now, standing outside on the phone with jirou.

"where are you going to find a violinist?"

a silence found itself opportune as jirou waited for an answer. "i'm, uh, not…?" you said, deflecting the question back to jirou.

"well, you can't play both parts in the duet, can you? actually, don't answer that. i know you'd try. didn't you try that one time in-"

"what's done in uni stays in uni," you hushed her before she could recall that one time you tried to play a sonata with a recording of yourself. "aren't you going to tell me to try to make amends with bakugou?" 

"no," she said thoughtfully after a pause. "you've tried before, and it's not working for you. i don't think you should be forced to do something you obviously don't want to do. i just think," she continued, "you need to find someone to do the duet with, if you don't want to work with bakugou. but objectively, he's your best bet."

as jirou always was, she was right. you thanked her for her advice not before hearing a distraught kaminari shouting for jirou in the background, and then she ended the call.

you repeated her words in your head once you got home, sliding your bow back and forth on your small block of worn rosin. the score for the duet was spread next to you on the floor. it wasn't that you didn't want to work with bakugou. or was it? had you been that selfish all along, sabotaging other performances because you didn't like him? if even jirou had noticed it, had bakugou noticed it too? 

your sigh let out a thousand burdens piled up in your mind, blowing air out like dust accumulating on your tribulations. you picked up your violin and bow thoughtlessly, testing out the strings and plucking a couple with your left hand. 

was it really only you with the contempt for working with bakugou? you'd assumed mutual hatred with him after your international debut, but had it really been so? had you been the only one picking fights during the time you'd worked together? as you backtracked, your fingers slipped into a familiar position. you began a piece you knew positively by heart, an absolute favorite of yours for years. you played mindlessly, serenading yourself with familiar notes and string fingerings as you thought long and hard about bakugou. how much shit had you given bakugou? he hardly complained, too, but why? why hadn't he quit after you'd been so ceaselessly difficult with him?

why were you so angry at bakugou, a gifted prodigy since childhood? the answer found itself as the composition descended into an array of complicated fingerings and string changes, sounding like an incoherent chaos somehow strung together by the music. you pretended you didn't know the answer.

it was much, much easier to leave bakugou as just a pianist. respectable in his own field, and incomparable to you. it was too good to be true, obviously. all your life, you played to win, and couldn't allow anyone else to surpass you. violin was about winning, winning, winning. how were you supposed to cope when all those hours of practice were easily overcome by someone with innate talent?

the piece eased your tension with a fermata, drawing out your vibrato to think. bakugou's perfection infuriated you, you concluded. knowing this, though, didn't help with anything. you almost screeched the last note as the composition came to an end, unsettled by thoughts of bakugou. you really couldn't stand him.

in an attempt to distract yourself from your dilemma, you decided to start practicing the recital composition. you pulled out an old portable music stand, bending the parts into place and stacking it up. carefully, you placed the sheets on the stand and skimmed over the music, bringing your violin up to your collarbone.

your eyes followed one measure ahead of what you were playing as you sight-read the piece. ahead, ahead, was all you could think as your fingers fumbled the notes, eyes moving from the score to the fingerboard. bakugou was far from your mind as you caught up to the music, too preoccupied with the sharps and flats you'd forgotten and the time you had to keep. you were busied by the shifts and the repeat signs in the music over anything else. your priority lay here for the time being, after all. the sight-reading was almost enough to make you forget you only play one half to a duet. there was still still an emptiness that lurked between the rests and the redundant beats that even your stilted practice couldn't mask. you tried not to worry about that, though. 

time floated by as you repeated the piece over and over, playing for accuracy first. it wasn't enough, but you pretended it was. the metronome on your phone ticked away like time, endless and impatient, until you couldn't stand it anymore and packed away your violin. 

the proceeding day was filled with more of the same practicing, working on tweaking hesitations and polishing up your playing. it was kind of convenient, practicing at home rather than waking up early to practice with bakugou. you missed the bagel the most. 

you were definitely not playing your best, and it was clear by the way your bow occasionally screeched and how you fumbled the fingerings when you were particularly negligent. the piece just didn't sound right without the second part. (bakugou was definitely not the second part missing. not at all.)

by the third day you gave up and admitted to yourself that yes, bakugou was the second part missing. you were only a little bit miserable buying your usual bagel and coffee and rushing to rehearsals fifteen minutes late, aware that you'd be unable to eat it before practice. you were substantially less miserable than how you were the day previous, practicing alone.

you weren't surprised to see bakugou already there, sitting on the piano bench and tightening his bow hairs. he acknowledged you with a grunt as you set down your breakfast and beverage. 

"showed up, huh?" he said finally, voice rough. he stood up, setting his sheet music on a stand. you stared at him, awed by his nonchalance. he picked up his violin and bow (which, by the way, looked super expensive) and propped his violin up by his chin. it felt so foreign to see him in position to play violin, fingers already expertly in first position and wrist beautifully curved, yet it inexplicably clicked. the scene in front of you looked like he'd done this everyday, as it was always supposed to have been, his back confidently straight. his fingers arched over the fingerboard and his bow appeared mathematically parallel to the bridge, held delicately between his fingers. you'd never carefully watched him play piano (probably due to your distaste to him and lack of knowledge about the percussion instrument), but he made the violin look like an instrument of the gods. he hesitated, though, bow moving a centimeter then back. he frowned at your idle silence and turned back to you. "well? are we doing this duet or not?" 

"oh," you reacted intelligently. "yeah. yeah." it kicked in what you were doing by the time you'd started tuning your violin, first bowing your a string. after tuning your violin (with the help of a tuning fork and none from the perfect-pitched bastard bakugou, who appeared to be watching you with a triumphant gleam in his eyes as you struggled to tune your violin properly), you set your sheet music next to bakugou's.

"ready?" you asked, as if you'd been the one waiting for bakugou all this time.

"ask yourself that," he snorted. "i'll do the count." 

you nodded.

"one, two, three, f-"

"wait, wait," you said, squinting at your music. "isn't it supposed to be a bit slower than that?"

"it says allegro," bakugou said, tapping his foot. "need an italian lesson? lively, briskly."

"i know what allegro means," you gritted. "seems too fast, when paired with dolce."

"maybe for you," he smirked.

you narrowed your eyes at him. "and that means what, exactly?"

he opened his mouth to reply some smug, smart-ass answer, but you stopped him. 

"nevermind," you said. "do the count again, at the same tempo. i can do it."

you were bluffing, of course. since when was allegro this fast? you wondered as the opening notes sped by you in a musical blur. already familiar with the melody, you messed up dynamics the most. of crescendos and diminuendos? it wasn't like bakugou would notice, too preoccupied with his part.

the ending of the piece took your breath away, storming toward you in a whirlwind. adrenaline filled your veins as you raced to the last measure of the music, overcome by the tempo and the music. this time, full of energy and exhilaration, the piece felt complete. your and bakugou's sound surrounded the two of you, overflowing the room with a saccharine melody. it felt right simply standing beside him playing a two part piece, chest heaving from the piece's energy. you could only hear your breathing, a gentle encore to your playing.

"your playing is sloppy," bakugou said bluntly. he leaned over to your sheet music, starting to point at dynamic markings.

you swatted his hand away before he could say a word. "yeah, well, i just got the music three days ago," you interjected.

"you also had two of the three days off, so i'd say you're not doing enough." he glanced back down at your score. he pointed at a measure. "this is a crescendo, moron, why didn't you get much louder?"

"just- pay attention to your own music!" you said. "besides, it's dolce. i can get away with playing softer."

"that wasn't very dolce to me," he argued. "nothing sweet, soft, or gentle about that," he mumbled.

"i can be sweet, soft, and gentle if i want to!" you retorted. 

he raised a brow, as if a challenge, scarlet eyes glinting in the light. "tch. i'm sure you can, but your playing damn can't."

“it can, too! listen,” you said, impetuously raising your violin and bow again. you slowly started to play a d major scale, impatiently scrunching your nose and squeezing your eyes shut to concentrate on making the music soft and gentle, tampering with different degrees of vibrato and bow pressure.

“... that’s just piano,” bakugou said, moving to you as you bowed an a. your bow came to an abrupt halt, making an unpleasant squeal, as bakugou positioned himself behind you. you felt his body warmth radiating behind you as a sweet, homely scent wafted around you. he brought his arms around you, hands overlapping where you held your violin and bow.

“you need to be,” he murmured into your ear, gentle tone almost slurring the words together, "fragile when you play dolce." he angled your bow slightly, moving your hand. "bow closer to the fingerboard." the smooth baritone of his voice resonated within you, becoming lost within the violinist's embrace.

"most of all," he said, dropping an octave to an intimate tone, "you need to feel it. you can attempt to play it, but without feeling, it's fuckin’ meaningless."

"feeling?" you repeated blankly. “the audience’s, you mean.”

he stepped away, a gesture that made you breathless, and shook his head. he crossed his arms over his chest, unintentionally accentuating their volume. “your damn feelings. what do you feel when playing the piece?”

there’s a pause for perhaps a second too long, as you mulled over different answers in your head.

“tch.” his eyes don’t leave you, gaze a laser burning into you. “‘s what i thought. why do you play violin?”

you held your tongue from answering my parents. “to win. i play to win,” you stated.

“and that’s the damn problem,” bakugou said, releasing a breath of frustrated air. “you win to play.”

“that means…?” you were starting to get impatient with the man, who seemed to be stalling and dragging out your limited time. 

“you win competitions to play more.” 

you almost scoffed, but his words were plausible. “what’s the purpose in playing more if not to win?”

he made a scratching noise in his throat, cool demeanor shifting to that of the bakugou you knew. “l-l-” he coughed, “love.”

“love?” you repeated, the word a surprise to swallow.

he nodded, gagging on his reply. you couldn’t see bakugou as the romantic type - the same bakugou who called all of his friends demeaning nicknames and could barely say the word love out loud. he was explosive, maybe, and talented, sure - but acquainted with love? you pursed your lips at the stuttering man trying to advise you.

“whatever,” he dismissed, voice oddly hoarse. “just play it from the top. fix the dynamics.”

weeks passed in a blur, though bakugou’s advice was left unforgotten. it had, for the most part, faded from your mind but lingered like a ghost in an abandoned attic, stirring up dust in complete silence. it was valid criticism on bakugou’s part, but the problem was that it was criticism you couldn’t digest. it was a ghost that you could not rid of, whispering and lurking until your music played over it. 

four weeks before the performance, you had the piece almost entirely memorized other than a few flukes here and there. you managed most of your dynamics, playing in sync with bakugou by your side. three weeks and the piece was mostly smooth, foregoing all sheet music and practicing in the middle of the room with bakugou tapping out the tempo on the honeyed floor. any mistakes were recovered from quickly, and you were pleased to say that the amount of bakugou’s slip-ups equated to yours. at two weeks, though, he brought up the pest bugging your mind. 

“play with more emotion,” he sighed exasperatedly, letting out a huff as you played for him. “start on f sharp again.”

you’d tried time and time again, but the longer you’d replayed the same few measures (followed by his criticism for the nth time), the only emotion you felt was frustration. your bow would push too hard or your vibrato would lay on thick, immensely irritating bakugou. you didn’t know why he even tried. 

the air felt stale and the lights shone obnoxiously bright. the pads of your left hand fingers had hardened by now, indented with a pair of parallel lines from your unforgiving violin strings. you inhaled rosin dust and occasional bow hairs miserably dropped to the floor. your arms were tired, sore, and sick of playing; your ears painfully endured the same tune again and again, the originally fluid and sweet notes becoming high frequency static. 

“i can’t do this.” you were tempted to flop onto the ground, hopelessness pouring over you.

“you can,” bakugou insisted stubbornly. “you just need to try harder.”

“harder?” you would’ve snapped (and you were surprised your e string didn’t already by the repetitive motions on it) if you weren’t so exhausted from rehearsing. 

he nodded like it was obvious. “try harder.”

you shakily inhaled, trying to smooth your voice over. “i’m sorry i can’t be a prodigy like you.”

he stiffened, tense to the point of trembling. “whatever,” and it was a strained word pulled from his mouth. it was very atypical for him to give up like this, but you didn't care. you avoided his eyes as you restarted the piece, unable to bloom anything from it.

outside of your rehearsal time, you practiced. arguably, your solo rehearsals were more rigorous. you forced yourself to add emotion to the piece, sometimes playing for jirou. she agreed with bakugou (though was a great deal less irritating), stating that your playing was somewhat hollow. (you restrained yourself from knocking on the instrument and saying that yes, indeed, violins were hollow.)

"how… how do you get any emotions from playing?" you asked jirou at one point, watching one of her band's rehearsals. they were on a break, chatting idly and taking sips from their water bottles.

“well…” jirou started, glancing back at her band members. “i think about the feelings i want the audience to feel because of my songs. i think about how the song makes me feel, then i put that into how i play.”

“how do you…” you shifted uncomfortably, “know what to feel?”

she looked at you, taken aback, but replied easily. “you don’t. it just… happens.”

her response was vastly different than what you’d been taught a child. emotions? sure, there was perhaps a time where playing evoked a feeling in you, plucked something melodical from your heartstrings. it was when you were a child, though, so it was irrational and erratic, an outburst in the middle of your otherwise level playing. your violin teacher didn’t approve when you’d follow how the music made you feel. she said it made you stray too far from the original piece and would make you lose competitions. no matter how you pushed back against her, her advice haunted you over and over every time you got anything other than first place. 

your performance is the audience, she’d told you. you didn’t understand what she meant at first, but she made sure you did while practicing for your next rehearsals. the audience, she quipped with thin lips under her sharp eyes, is everything. if the audience wasn’t satisfied, your performance was worthless, no matter how well you played technically. you play for them and you win - it was that plain. there was nothing more than you wanted but to win, at the time. you wanted a trophy, a medal, a certificate stating that you were better than most. it was palpable evidence that you were good enough - for your parents, your peers, anyone. like that, you practiced, a servant for approval. you weren’t a prodigy, but you sure as hell would try to play like one. her advice worked for over a decade, soundly racking you up with countless awards that filled your otherwise desolate self-esteem.

you didn’t say anything else to jirou about it, instead thinking about the bits and pieces of human feeling you could extract in between your piece’s accidentals and eighth notes. perhaps there was a possibility, through the phrases of notes and dynamic markings, you’d find a word that said love. a renewed interest sparked itself when jirou’s band continued their rehearsals, finding yourself to be a normal audience member (maybe even crying at the end. maybe).

you returned home to practice, practice, practice, coercing any hidden message in the music to vibrate in your violin and echo around your room. you watched other renditions of the piece to find something you were missing, but imitating them didn’t seem right. this continued for the following weeks, hiding any potential development from bakugou (or trying to, at least). you knew you’d be disappointing him if you failed after trying so hard. it was only safe to play what you knew, secure in the written parts of the composition and keeping it at that. 

by the time the performance came around, you were glad bakugou never found out about your secret efforts. if he had, you knew he’d be sorely dispirited by your lack of tangible progress, your sound just as hollow as the soundbox of your violin. you failed, you knew, and as crestfallen as you were on that cold february morning, the show must go on.

the performances were held in an auditorium, warm compared to the snowy wonderland outside. it was typically couples comprising the audience, all romantic and pepped up in the spirit of valentine's day (white day was no different). some arrived early, finding seats in the empty auditorium and chatting amongst themselves (or sometimes making out, which made you want to throw your violin at them and gag). bakugou’s and your performance was last; it quite the heavy honor to play the finale to the recital. 

backstage was a vast contrast to the hushed atmosphere settled over the assemblage. hovering over the staff and performers for the day was a sense of panic, hurry, and hecticness. bits of rosin were scattered on the ground where you prepared for your rehearsal, some belonging to your block and others not. your pack of extra strings lay next to you on the sofa you sat on, arm resting on the side of the seat. similar to your violin's strings, spun tightly over pegs to be kept in place, you felt high-strung. the buzz of energetic excitement flitted in your head, knee bumping up and down and jerking your violin in the same motion. it was hard to calm when you tuned your violin to absolute perfection, relying on bakugou's perfect pitch to do so. the fine tuners on the end of your strings probably hadn't had a harder time in the years you'd owned your violin.

"you're shaking the entire sofa, idiot," bakugou deadpanned next to you. “some of us are trying to rosin our bow, unlike you.” he glanced at the floor, where amber shards of rosin lay amidst white dust (also made of rosin). 

“to be fair, most of those aren’t mine,” you pointed out. you reached into your violin case, finding the rectangular case of rosin and opening the top. "mine's only chipped in a couple corners, and the rest is just worn on the edges from my bow."

you leaned over to look at bakugou's rosin, two stubs in its case. "and i'm the one dropping my rosin?"

his ears turned a deep red, matching the velvet curtains on stage. "that's different," he muttered, putting the lid on his rosin and putting it away. 

"you ready?" you watched him swallow before speaking, not looking at you. you could hear one of the presenters speaking, introducing the first piece to be played (an ever-so romantic rendition of clair de lune), but the voices felt distant and muffled over the sound of your own nervous heart beating.

"yeah," he replied. he turned to look at you, scarlet eyes meeting your own. "what, you're not scared now, are you, dumbass?"

you gulped. "no… just excited," you said. in truth, you felt disappointed in yourself for being unable to find any emotion in your playing - thinking about the piece, you were devoid of anything but the measures and the notes. what was the piece trying to say in the white space between staff lines? after the clef at the beginning of the music, where did the emotions start and everything else end?

quiet notes, twinkling from the piano on stage, met your ears. you took a deep breath. how did they make you feel? 

…not very good, because this pianist was certainly a beat or two off tempo. a large hand on your knee startled you out of your trance. its warmth was surprisingly comforting. you followed the arm connecting to the hand to meet bakugou's concentrated face, eyebrows furrowed and nose scrunched. 

"don't shake your knee like that. also, why are you so damn cold?" he moved his hand away, leaving an imprint of heat on your knee. you hadn't noticed the physical manifestation of your nerves prior to bakugou's words.

you left his question unanswered, staring at your violin in your lap. you traced the patterns in wood, fingers following the shape of the f-hole and thumbing circles on your chin rest. how were you supposed to be able to pull living, breathing life in the form of emotions from an inanimate object? what sorcery were you supposed to manage to satisfy yourself and the audience?

you thought back to bakugou's words. what was it had he said you were supposed to be playing for? love, the irrational and sentimental flaw of life - somehow expressed from the symbols on a sheet of paper and through strings on hollow wood. what sort of miracle was bakugou creating with his music?

what was violin, if not just a task to do everyday? what was it, out of competitions and tests of skill? what was the sound reverberating within its vacant body, recording every shift of fingers on the fingerboard?

you looked past your violin to the rosin on the floor. friction, your violin teacher had explained to you. you put rosin on your bow so it creates friction with the strings, and thus creates sound. it was strange how friction caused the smooth sound of a violin. too much friction, added by pressure on the bow, made a creaky sound on the strings. without rosin, the bow would be too smooth on the string and make no noise at all. the happy medium of not too much and not too little created the familiar rich tone on the strings.  

a happy medium, you mused. in between too much friction and none at all. maybe that was how you were supposed to feel, in between trying too hard and not trying at all. that's what feelings were in the end, right? a natural human instinct, spurred by life. could you breathe life into the music?

the stage seemed almost too big for the two of you, spotlights centering you on the wide, wooden platform. the crowd's eyes were on you and your fellow violinist, some watching with drooping eyelids. they felt far, distant under the shadows. even so, the question still besieged you - would you please them?

you teared your eyes away to bakugou, who started the count. everything was silent until he nodded to you, your cue to start the piece. it felt too fast when you began but it was the same allegro you’d been practicing with. muscle memory took control now, your fingers finding their places easily. 

your fingers and bow took all your attention. everything else fell away - the lights, the crowd, the stage - until it was just you, your violin, and the music. you could practically see the score in your head, playing the notes you'd come to know so well. 

you heard your music echo and resound off the walls, but that's all it seemed to do. it touched everyone in the room, looking for a place to stay, and diminished in an empty space alone. it frustrated you that it wouldn't resonate - where was the love bakugou had so told you of? this auditorium was no different than your room, where sounds bounced off walls and landed nowhere. you weren't reaching anywhere or anyone, lacking emotion and any true substance. 

love - what was love if not a hindrance? how could bakugou expect so much out of you? love - had you ever felt it for the violin? dolce told you to play sweetly, softly, and gently, but what was sweet about the violin? what was so sweet about the imprints of strings on your fingers, fragmented rosin at your feet, and bruises on your neck from long hours of practice? what was gentle about the arduous replaying of the same measure, the ringing in your ears after playing to master a simple phrase? what was soft about the forte that rang in your head, the fortissimo that filled a performance and clouded your senses?

dolce filled you like an epiphany, euphoric in your eyes that finally opened and awakened. dolce was in bakugou's eyes, soft velvet like the crimson curtains onstage, downcast at his violin. dolce was in his sound as his bow skittered near the fingerboard, in his fingers sliding back and forth on his a string. dolce was in his grasp of his bow and violin, in the very essence he played the violin with. dolce contradicted everything you knew, reminding you of bakugou's soft hands over yours, guiding your fingers and bow. dolce was the morning light streaming into the practice room as you argued with bakugou over tempos and notes, the light glinting on shattered shards of rosin as you anxiously rosined your bow. dolce was the curve of your violin scroll, the bend of your fingers over your bow's frog. dolce was the white space in between staff lines on your sheet music and through half and whole notes. dolce was everything in between the rough of your violin experience, the laughter and smiling gone forgotten during sleepless practice sessions and violin evaluations.

what was dolce, if not a rebellion? what was it, if not a rebellion from the years of work and pain you'd endured in the name of musicality? what was it, if not laughing in the face of your violin instructors and the strict score you adhered to? 

when you opened your eyes to meet bakugou's, whose carmine eyes dripped with a burning passion and the essence of souls, you finally felt. it was the so-sought over love, scorching every note and stroke of your bow and bursting life in every movement, breath, and echo of your performance. it was exhilarating, living through every slur and chord you played. when you finally met his eyes he understood, a satisfied smile tugging on his lips as his gaze never left yours. this was it - this was dolce, humming sweetly, softly, and gently in your ears and reflecting in the audience's heart. this was dolce, making you realize that you never wanted to play violin alone again.

you picked up a rose that had landed at your feet at the end of your piece, holding it next to bakugou's confused face. in doing so, you reached your second epiphany of the day - perhaps the more important of the two. bakugou's eyes bloomed redder than the rose, deeper than the lowest note on a double bass, and maybe it was he that was the true dolce you were looking for.

notes!!

if you’re reading this, congrats !! this is my longest fic on my account (the record will be broken soon), so i really appreciate you reading this :> (spare a reblog, perhaps?)

first, explaining the playlist:

beethoven’s kreutzer - this was played in the anime, “your lie in april,” and i simply think it fits the “fight” reader and bakugou have. this was played at reader’s first international recital that did not go so well.

kreisler’s liebesfreud (love’s joy) is in the same series as his piece called liebesleid (love’s sorrow), also featured in “your lie in april.” i personally really like the piece. of all of these listed, i think you should listen to this one the most.

beriot’s duo concertante was the other contender for reader and bakugou’s duet piece! 

debussy’s clair de lune is simply a favorite of mine. it’s the first piece played at the valentine’s performance (and i like to imagine reader’s listened to bakugou’s recording of the piece)

spohr’s duo for 2 violins is the piece reader and bakugou play! it’s the second part of the duo in allegro, and i once tried to listen to it while following the sheet music. i was so confused every time i did so; i’d get lost and such, and figured my musicality was declining. nope. i was reading the wrong part. so, i started freaking out because oh god the dolce is in the first part, not the second, and thankfully, there’s a bit of dolce in the second part too! however, it did take me a while to decide whether to use the first part instead.

also, spohr invented the chinrest on the violin! crazy :D

paginini’s 24th caprice is considered the hardest out of all 24 caprices. imagine,,, teenage bakugou playing this,,, doing the left hand pizz and all T^T pain

there’s a lot i wish i could cover in this! a lot of reader’s own flaws (ahem, viola jokes) and development were something i couldn’t cover. bakugou’s arc as well! he had an arc a bit before this story takes place :)) tl;dr i’m very tempted to pick my violin up again and start playing

the frog of the bow does not, sadly, go ribbit. it’s the part violinists hold the bow by!

thank you for reading! i hope you enjoyed this :)

#bakugou x reader #bnha x reader #bakugou fluff #bnha fluff #katsuki bakugou x reader #bnha x gender neutral reader #bakugou angst #bnha angst #luna's writing #violinist bakugou

[recurring-polynya]

For Stuff For Renji's Birthday Prompts: 1) time travel turn back the clock nonsense, bc I'm an enabler and Karakura teens plus shithead Renruki teens has *Byakuya voice* strong comedic potential OR 2) Hisana lives but due to wacky circumstances, nobody notices Rukia's existence at the Academy... until they've graduated and Renruki have joined Squad 11. Dealer's choice! (Honestly whichever you pick, I might try writing the one you don't. I am not a writer these 2 just live in my head rent free)

Why would you make me choose between these, whyyyyyyyyyy?

To be honest, I almost did them both, but this was the second one I did, and I figured that I should probably do some other people’s prompts, and then I ran out of time. I might do you some time travel shenanigans later. (This should in no way stop you from writing these, I would flip my chips if you wrote something, let alone something based on my horrible ideas)

In any case, I couldn’t resist the second options and I have spun it out into a delightful bit of Byakuya-torture. Please enjoy!!!

Special thanks to @kaicko for helping me come up with the clerical error, because you all know me, I can’t just say “a clerical error.” 😂

Read on ao3 or ff.net

💀   💀   💀  

“How is the tea?” Aizen Sousuke asked smoothly.

The tea was excellent, but Byakuya wasn’t in the mood for Aizen’s needy attempts to ingratiate himself. “Adequate,” he replied dryly. “You said you had something to discuss with me.”

“Ah, diligent as always, Byakuya,” Aizen sighed, “always eager to get back to work. I’ll get to the point: I happened to speak with your wife recently at a fundraising event. She’s very interested in the people of the deep Rukon, and said she travels to South Rukongai frequently.”

Byakuya narrowed his eyes. “What is your point?”

“Well, I thought it was a bit of a strange occupation for a woman of your wife’s noble standing, but then Gin reminded me that she was actually from there herself, that there had been a bit of a to-do when you two married. I don’t tend to follow gossip myself--”

“I repeat, what is your point?” Byakuya gritted your teeth.

Aizen made a pissy little throat clearing noise and fiddled with a folder on his desk. “The fact is, Byakuya, your wife reminds me a great deal of a young woman who served in my squad a few years ago, whom I recalled also hailing from the Rukon. I wondered if there might be a.... connection.”

Byakuya’s shoulders stiffened. Impossible. He had put watches on all immigrants to the Seireitei. He would have reviewed anyone who came from the South 78th.

“Inuzuri Rukia,” Aizen read from his file, and Byakuya’s blood ran cold. “Shin’ou class of 2066. Unseated. Petite, like your wife. Dark hair. Very striking eyes. Unfortunately, an unremarkable shinigami. Potential for a good kidou user, but didn’t take direction well. More interested in sword combat, although she had little aptitude for it. Ah, here it is. Hometown: District 48, South Rukongai.”

“That doesn’t make sense,” Byakuya said flatly. “Inuzuri is the 78th district of South Rukongai. Why would she carry a surname from a different district?”

Aizen made an exaggerated frown. “Very strange! A clerical error perhaps? Hold on a moment.” He stuck his head out of his office door and said something to the shinigami on reception duty. “Fortunately, there’s an easy way to clear this up. It’ll just be a minute.”

Byakuya gripped his teacup, unsure of how to feel. A clerical error. Class of 2066… she would have enrolled in 2060, in the middle of Hisana’s worst turn, when she had been bedridden for nearly four years. Their attention would have lapsed. It made sense.

“She does not sound like your usual recruit,” Byakuya accused. Aizen was constantly finding ways to skim the highest performers from the Academy, all the gifted children.

Aizen looked sheepish. “Ah, well, you see, there was a young man of some talent that I was eager to recruit who was… attached to her. I thought she might have some potential if properly guided, but it never panned out.”

Aizen’s good deed was suddenly beginning to make sense. The girl had transferred out and taken Aizen’s prize with her. He wanted Byakuya to go fetch her away in hopes that the talented one would come home. Byakuya actually felt much better now that he’d identified Aizen’s ulterior motive, and further, that it had more to do with his own petty recruiting schemes than Byakuya’s family (specifically, Byakuya’s wife).

There was a knock at the office door, and upon being bid entry, a young woman walked in. Although indeed petite and dark-haired, she looked nothing like Hisana, and Byakuya remarked as much.

“Oh, no, this is my Seventh Seat!” Aizen chuckled. “Miss Hinamori, you were friends with Inuzuri Rukia, isn’t that correct?”

The young woman’s eyes had gone wide when she recognized Byakuya. “Er, yes, sir,” she said, her eyes darting between the two captains. “We shared a room while she served here.”

“Do you happen to remember what district she was from?” Aizen asked in an overly friendly manner.

“Oh, sure, it was South 78,” Hinamori replied. “Inuzuri, of course.”

“I’m afraid I don’t know all the outermost ones,” Aizen said in his goofy voice again. “Her paperwork says 48.”

Hinamori’s brow furrowed for a moment and then her face brightened. “She and Abarai had very heavy accents when they first came to the Academy, and used a lot of deep Rukongai language quirks. I don’t remember all of it, but they both used to use ‘shichi’ instead of ‘nana’ for seven, especially when referring to their district. They weren’t very fond of their home district. I wonder if the registrar misheard.”

“Well, there you go!” Aizen said, slapping his hands on his desk. “A very logical explanation!”

Hinamori beamed.

Byakuya found Aizen’s need to be liked by his subordinates very unprofessional and off-putting, but he tried to push it aside. He was trying not to be too eager, but this was probably the best lead he’d had on Hisana’s sister in all the years they had been searching. “Where is she now?” he grumbled.

Aizen turned his doe eyes on his fawning subordinate once more. “I don’t suppose you still keep in touch? She couldn’t have lasted very long there, they must have transferred again?”

Hinamori made a face like she didn’t want to say the answer. “I’m afraid that Kira and I had a bit of a falling out with Abarai and Inuzuri when they left. I haven’t talked to them in a few years, although we still have some mutual friends. As far as I know, though, they’re both still at Squad Eleven. I heard they were doing fairly well there, actually.”

The room seemed to retreat around Byakuya. All he could hear was the blood pounding in his ears and the reverberations of the most horrible words he could possibly think of: Squad Eleven.

---

Byakuya knew it was poor etiquette to visit another captain’s squad when the man was out, but he absolutely could not stomach the idea of discussing the matter of his wife’s sister with the Kenpachi, so he waited until Zaraki and his miniature lieutenant were sent out to go trample half of East Rukongai before visiting.

He also knew that he probably should have said something to Hisana, but he couldn’t bring himself to get his wife’s hopes up, only to dash them, should this turn out to be nothing, like so many leads before it. So, the secret sat in his stomach, heavy and acidic, jostling with the guilt of his breach of etiquette.

“Is there someone here,” he gingerly asked one of the gentlemen on gate duty, “who takes care of administrative matters for the squad?”

The man swiveled his head, which appeared to grow directly from his torso with no need for an intervening neck, to his fellow guardsman. “What?”

The other fellow had been busy trying to remove wax from his ear with a pinky. “WHAT?” he shouted back.

“Paperwork!” Byakuya said a little louder. “Is there an office of some sort? A person who knows what’s going on?”

He supposed he could have asked for the girl, Inuzuri, directly, but he didn’t feel… ready.

“I think he wants Ayasegawa,” the neckless guard hazarded.

“WHAT?”

“I’ll be right back.”

Eventually, the burly gentleman returned. With him was a strangely elegant person with a silky curtain of hair cut severely to chin length and piercing violet eyes. “It really is you,” the lovely man said with a level of disdain that Byakuya almost had to admire. Before he had a chance to get offended, the man dipped into a respectful bow. “Welcome to the Eleventh, Captain Kuchiki. Fifth Seat Ayasegawa at your service. What in Soul Society can I possibly do for you?”

“Apologies for visiting while your captain is abroad,” Byakuya replied, not meaning a word of it.

“Oh, he’ll be very sorry to have missed you,” Ayasegawa frowned. “But I’m sure you could make it up to him later.”

Byakuya’s eye twitched. “Perhaps. I have come to enquire about a young woman whom I am told transferred to your squad three years ago.”

“Does she have a name? That might make it a little easier.”

“Inuzuri Rukia.”

Both of Ayasegawa’s eyebrows shot up, and his mouth curved into a feline grin. “Ninth Seat Inuzuri, of course!”

Byakuya blinked. “Ninth Seat? Captain Aizen told me she was middling at best.”

Ayasegawa's face suddenly went stiff. “She was not well-served at the Fifth, but she has bloomed here most beautifully. Inuzuri is my personal protege, you know.” He stared at Byakuya under hooded eyes. “What is your interest in her? Captain?”

Byakuya took a deep breath through his nose. “My wife is also from Inuzuri. She is trying to locate someone she knew there. It is possible this Rukia is that someone.”

Ayasegawa frowned. “Well, I can introduce you, if you like. I should warn you, though, Rukia doesn’t have a lot of lost love for her hometown.”

“My understanding is that there isn’t much to love about it.”

“Mmm,” Ayasegawa agreed. “Well, come along, let’s go find her.” He concentrated for a moment, clearly trying to find her reiatsu. She must be a woman of some power, after all. “Ugh! She and Abarai are at it again! Every day!”

Byakuya swallowed stiffly.

“Well come on! She’s out at the training fields, clobbering our Tenth Seat, yet again.”

Oh. That kind of “going at it.”

Ayasegawa was shaking his head. “The two of them are literally an unstoppable force and an immovable object.”

“Abarai was also at the Fifth?,” Byakuya probed cautiously. “I was told they were close.”

“Of course they’re close!” Ayasegawa scoffed. “They’re partners!” He thought for a moment. “Abarai is from the 78th as well, you know. If Rukia turns out to not be your girl, perhaps one or the other of them knew the person you’re looking for. Abarai is one of those people who just… knows everyone. He’s the personable half of the pair.”

“‘Partners’?” Byakuya echoed. “What… kind of partners?”

Ayasegawa stared back at him like he was insane. “Partners.”

This path of inquiry clearly wasn’t going to get him anywhere, but wasn’t particularly relevant, either. “I did not think kidou-type zanpakutou were permitted in the Eleventh,” Byakuya sniffed. “Aizen’s records indicated Inuzuri wields an ice-and-snow type.”

Ayasegawa gave a little shrug. “Zanpakutou classifications are arbitrary. Obviously, if she had a bunch of showy blizzard attacks like Matsumoto’s little prodigy friend, it would be a no-go. Rukia can take the blade of her sword down to sub-zero temperatures. She has a weapon-shattering attack and she doesn’t feel pain when she’s fighting. It’s fundamentally no different than a zanpakutou so massive that only the wielder can lift it, or a whip sword that’s controlled with one’s reiatsu.”

This sounded like a quibble to Byakuya, but it’s not like he had come to the Eleventh looking for sound logic.

“She’s incredibly fast, probably the fastest person in the Eleventh, although no one’s really sure what Yachiru’s top speed is,” Ayasegawa continued on. He glanced at Byakuya slyly. “I hear you are very fast.”

“You have heard correctly.”

“That’s why Abarai can’t beat her. If he could land one really hard hit on her, she’d go down, but he’s not fast enough and she’s just too agile. He’s my partner’s protege, you see, so I have to take their little scraps very personally.”

How did this man talk so much?

“What did you say your wife’s relationship was to her again?”

“I did not.”

“Ah, right. Oops, look out!” Ayasegawa abruptly dove to one side as a giant mass of shihakushou and pink hair and what might be a sword came crashing through the split rail fence surrounding the training field.

Byakuya was not in the habit of ducking, so he merely plunged the force of his reiatsu down into the earth like a piton. It was almost, but not entirely sufficient. Byakuya gritted his teeth as he was driven back, dirt piling up behind his heels as he skidded backwards.

When they finally came to a halt, Byakuya looked down at the meaty youth lying at his feet. This must be the infamous Abarai, although he certainly didn’t look like one of Aizen’s usual simpering overachievers. The first thing Byakuya observed was the eye makeup. Most shinigami applied at least a little eyeliner, on grounds of tradition, but few bothered to blacken the entire eye socket, as in the skeletal facepaint of old. The second thing Byakuya noticed were the tattoos painted across his forehead and neck. They were black and spikey and horrible. The third thing was the hair, which was bright pink and spikey, and utterly at odds with the makeup and tattoos. The fourth thing was the big, sheepish grin, which honestly just tied the whole hideous tableau together.

Byakuya glared down at the lout, and in a moment of pettiness, flared his reiatsu to a level that should have sent blood spurting out of his ears.

“I’m afraid that’s not going to do much to someone who has a weekly sparring slot with the Kenpachi,” Ayasegawa commented dryly.

“Sorry ‘bout that!” the lummox cheerfully apologized as he sat up and brushed himself off. He had an Inuzuri accent so thick you could spread it on toast, an accent that Hisana tended to slip into only when she was extremely bent out of shape. Abarai snapped the sword hilt in his hand, and the tangled pile of steel on the ground neatly retracted into something that looked a little more like a weapon, if a weapon were designed by a creative and overly violent child.

“That’s a captain, you buffoon!” another voice rang out, and every muscle in Byakuya’s body locked. “Show your respects!”

The voice clearly affected Abarai as well, because he leapt to his feet, spun, and slammed into a bow. “My apologies, Captain…” his eyes glanced up and abruptly widened, “Kuchiki.”

“Greetings, Captain Kuchiki! Welcome to the Eleventh Division! I apologize very profusely for throwing Tenth Seat Abarai at you!” A second young person had come to join Abarai in his bow, and they both rose in unison, Abarai looking suddenly pale and nervous, his companion looking calm and confident.

So this was Inuzuri Rukia. She had Hisana’s voice. She had Hisana’s stature, and standing next to Abarai made her look positively childlike. She wore the same dreadful eyeblack, but the eyes that shone out of it were a variation on Hisana’s, harder and three shades more purple. The rest of the face was Hisana’s. Her hair was dark, shaved on the sides, arranged into porcupine spikes on top, although one lock hung down stubbornly between her eyes. Her ears glittered with silver piercings. At least she was free of awful tatt-- wait, no. Byakuya had missed them at first, because they were white. Abarai’s tattoos were spiky and sharp, but Inuzuri’s were graceful swirls, like ribbons wrapping lazily down her forearms. Even her reiatsu was like Hisana’s-- but instead of a cool, refreshing wintergreen, Inuzuri’s was the bone-deep cold of winter, a cold so harsh it burnt in the lungs.

There was no doubt.

This atrocious delinquent was his long-lost sister-in-law.

“Can we help you with something, sir?” Inuzuri prompted. “Abarai here’s a big fan of yours.”

“Shut up, Rukia,” Abarai managed through gritted molars.

“Inuzuri Rukia, you died as an infant thirty-six years ago and were sent to the 78th District of South Rukongai, is that correct?” Byakuya said stiffly.

Inuzuri and Abarai both bristled, a pair of mongrels raising their haunches. “That seems about right,” Inuzuri replied slowly. “My early years are a little hazy.”

“My wife, Hisana also died thirty-six years ago and was sent to Inuzuri with her infant sister,” Byakuya went on. “They were separated. My wife has been looking for her sister ever since. You… resemble her greatly.” Byakuya let the implication hang in the air. He couldn’t bring himself to say it.

There was silence for a moment. Then there was the distinct noise of a laugh that, having been held in, had escaped through someone’s nose. “Sorry! Pardon me!” Ayasegawa wheezed, clapping one hand over his mouth and looking away. “Bit of. Dust. In my throat.”

“I told you! I told you, you looked like that picture of her in the Bulletin!” Abarai was hissing.

“I thought you were lying because you thought she was pretty!” Inuzuri hissed back.

“I thought she was pretty because she looks just like you!”

“Now is really not the time, Abarai!” She cleared her throat and tried to stand up a bit taller, a futile effort. “So, uh, so what? What does that mean, if I am her sister? Does that… does that make me noble?”

A higher pitched wheezing came out of Ayasegawa. The level of impudence was extraordinary.

“I would like you to come to my home to meet her, first,” Byakuya put off making any promises. “We can discuss what comes next. As a family.”

“I’m at work right now,” Inuzuri excused.

“Inuzuri, I need to know how this pans out, you can have the afternoon off,” Ayasegawa informed her.

Inuzuri’s confidence seemed to be draining out of her. She took a tiny step closer to Abarai and groped for his hand. “I’m bringing Renji,” she declared.

“Is he compulsory?” Byakuya asked. Inuzuri was absurd looking too, but at least she was small.

“He’s my family,” Inuzuri insisted.

Byakuya’s brows furrowed. This could prove problematic. “In any sort of legally binding sense?”

“We’re engaged!” Inuzuri announced.

“We are?” Abarai goggled.

“I told you I’d marry you if you could ever manage to beat me in a fight! What else would you call that?” Rukia hissed at him in a voice that was still, unfortunately, perfectly audible.

“I’ve been trying every day, and honestly, Rukia, it’s not looking good for me!”

“Can you just go with it for once, instead of arguing with me every time?”

“If you want to leave and never tell anyone you found her,” Ayasegawa put in, “I am very bribable.”

Byakuya was sorely tempted.

---

End note: To further explain the number mix-up, as I understand it “seven” in Japanese can either be said as “nana” or “shichi”. People usually say “nana” for two reasons-- 1) to avoid confusion with 4 (”shi”, although you can also say “yon”) and because “shi” is a homophone for death. Given how shitty the districts in the 70s are, I rather liked the idea that they residents use the “shichi” pronunciation as a bit of gallows humor. (And if you don’t have a rude nickname for the town you grew up in, well, congrats for not growing up somewhere shitty)

I don’t actually speak Japanese, tho, so forgive me if this is all nonsense. 😁

#renji's birthday 2k21 #my writing #i loved writing this with my entire being #thank you so much #all i ever want in the way of prompts is cursed suggestions that come out of conversations i have in the bowels of my ao3 comments #strictly speaking this isn't very renji-centric but he does reach new peaks of himbo-dom in this au so i will allow it #the byakuya - yumichika interaction in this fic is so powerful #also a i z e n

[cobraghost]

canon questionare.

@advnterccs​​ & anonymous wrote: Have you tweaked the character from canon? If so, what did you tweak? anon added: // n im glad you like the questions! just saw the post n decided why not :)

Oh, absoolutely. I tend to do that with MOST muses of mine -- barring Saitama from OPM. But for Billy specifically ... look, I love the guy that we have in canon. Honestly, i do! and i do try to keep my portrayal as close to billy as i can, both in spirit, in action, and in dialogue. However, I do think that his og character is rather... flat? like,. it’s no secret DTMG is not a good show -- again, i love it to pieces, but it isn’t very good. it’s like the biggest example of missed potential ever.  last night i had a huge long ramble answer typed out to answer this, but because i lost it all, and im far too wordy, i’ll give you all some bulletpoint changes.

Gave Billy more depth to his songs -- they CONSTANTLY alternate between him being a “pop star” and him being a “rockstar” -- both with a bad boy image. and like. those are two VERY different things. so i made him start out as a pop star, but grow bitter at writing stale love songs about yachts, money, hot girls, and himself -- and shifted to writing about more genuine topics, like his crushing loneliness, through rock n roll, towards the end of his life and in private. boom, consistency solved. also, toned down the songs abt his narcissism, and cranked up his badboy image / behaviors in life to actually FIT his canon mindset of, “do ANYTHING to stay famous, even if it means breaking the law” which he’s broke before. just to be relevant.

i also made him less.. plot devicey?  like. he’s genuinely an untapped genius in show. when he;s taught  / learns new things he’s INSANELY academically talented. he has a ton of life experience from constantly travelling the wrold, and a CRAZY knack for memorizing things. he canonically woulda been STRAIGHT A HIGHEST HONORS STUDENT, ADVANCED PLACEMENT -- he can even absorball knowledge through computer code if he so wished. but they always act like he’s super stupid and shit for not picking up on social cues, or that he’s so overdramatic he has no braincells ... i.e. the show has him somehow forget he knows how to fly a plane despite flying one not even two seconds earlier. it’s truly flabbergasting in all the worst ways. 

I try to make a clearer difference between the way he’d acted when alive vs when he’s dead. When he was alive, he was a MENACE -- or so the show claims.. But we’ve NEVER seen anything to reflect that, minus him being like, 12 years old and acting as a simon cowell for an america’s got talent knockoff. and holy hell, was he a menace even then. but he’s super chill as a ghost? he’s barely an issue or problematic even though he has enough power to kill god if he wanted to. he’s just a lonely sweet guy, who means well and doesn’t know how to cope with no more hollywood living -- no more people using him, no people controlling him or kissing up to him to try and make him have the bratty attitude he supposedly had in life, for the most part. no more enablers. and unless u count the ep where radiatioin made him go insane and he almost murdered spencer by drowning him in boiling cheese as billy being a menace, he isn’t really... as bad as everyone claims he was. ( hashtag just long hair billy things. )

I could go on and on abouit what all I’ve tweaked of him -- but if you guys / my followers wanna see, i would be okay making  a longer post about everything i’ve changed!! but even so, i do still hope that, despite these changes, he still feels just as good or if not better than he did in canon. i care lots about  this ghost boy, even if the writers obviously did not </3

ALSO... TY FOR THE KIND ASKS / INTEREST ANON!!! AUGHGUHEF,,, forreal i know i’ve said it before butit really means the world to me when ppl love my portrayals!!! im forever super worried or self concious on if i do them justice or not. i don’t mean to sound like a broken record or like fluttershy after 9 seasons of learning the same friendship lesson in m.lp, but AAA!!! AGAIN TYSM!! ;v; all i can do is hope my love for him rubs off on my followers. i Will make u love obscure characters mistreatedby the fandom or forgotten to time.

#OOC -- JONESY SPEAKS ~☆ #ANSWERED ~☆ #ASK MEME ~☆

[anerdquemoraaolado]

Beyond a Chance

Chapter 10: Table Readings

As the days passed, Yasmim managed to feel better about those news. They looked like they had disappeared with the same speed they had appeared. What's more, Howard warned her that her role would soon be announced, and no one else would refer to her as the "mystery girl."

Howard was not made aware of this, but Marvel's marketing department had to take action due to the leaked news. Seeing how much they had reverberated, and how Tom's name attracted attention, so as not to generate further speculation, they soon decided to publicize Yasmim's name and why they were together. So Yasmim knew that soon, everyone, like, really and literally the whole world would know who she was.

The news that Yasmim was cast in the series "Loki" first came out on Entertainment Weekly as an exclusive, and then it was spreading across the internet. What was clear there was just that she would be on the show, but her role would not yet be released.

-Apparently, they will want it to be a mystery until the premiere - she commented when she saw the news, speaking to herself and out loud, remembering what it said in her contract.

Also, she thought how surreal it was, her picture and name were there, and everyone would know her now, from a total stranger to an object of curiosity, especially by Marvel fans. She just hoped that she could do her best and thus be able to please the public and finally have a more stable career, one of her oldest dreams, fulfilled.

Yasmim was really right about being an object of curiosity from the general public and especially from journalists, soon there were articles about her career in theater and that maybe Marvel was making a big bet by hiring her, since she had no experience with cinema and TV.

-Well, I'll have to prove that I can do the job-she reminded herself, starting to get ready for the trip she would take to the place where the series would be recorded.

Yasmim didn't know much about the United States, she had only been in LA all this time, not having the luxury of traveling and exploring the rest of the country as she was more busy raising money for necessities than leisure, so that alone left her excited, not to mention finally starting work on her new job.

After checking into her hotel in Atlanta, she rested for a while before heading to Pinewood Studios, where they would first read the scripts for the series. It would also be the first time she had contact with this material.

There was a brief introduction by the actors and crew, Michael, the creator and writer of the series, was there, along with Kate Herron, the director. Thus, the cast met for the first time, with the exception of Tom and Yasmim, of course. She couldn't help but notice him since he arrived, he seemed excited and becoming the center of attention, everyone wanted to talk to him, after all he was the protagonist. But he decided to approach Yasmim of his own free will, there was something curious in his eyes when she saw him approach. It was a surprise, as if he hadn't been waiting for her there, or if he was very glad she was there, as if for a moment he'd forgotten that they'd see each other right there again.

-How are you, Tom? - She preferred to start a conversation - it's good to see you again.

-I say the same, how are you? I'm excited to finally get started,” he replied happily.

-I'm not showing that I'm as excited as you are - she ventured a small joke - but yes, I'm committed and nervous, it's really happening now and I just want everything to go well.

-Yes, it will, if you're here, it's because you have talent - he assured.

Yasmin just smiled back in thanks, still surprised by the support. She concluded that since they had become friends, it was to be expected that they would support each other.

Because of the way the reading table was arranged, it turned out that the two were sitting next to each other, this would definitely help their characters' interaction.

Sigyn wouldn't make it into the story until episode 5, so Yasmim watched the script read as her work coleagues did their best. It was nice to be there, kind of like the audience until it was their turn to read, you could see how much they were surrounded by talented people. Hearing Tom read so close to her only further highlighted his talent. Committed, precise, focused, voice imposed at the right moments, it was a chilling prototype performance, Yasmim was impressed, and when it finally came her turn to start reading, she put her best foot forward.

It began with a scene that established the friendship of young Loki and Sigyn, what they had in common and how they were linked by magic. Yasmim even let out a few natural giggles, which suited the moment. Tom even reciprocated with some conniving smiles from him, right in Loki's character.

Their next scene was about Sigyn's desperate and worried reaction to learning that Odin had ordered her and Loki to get married. As one of Frigga's ladies and faithful subject to her rurlers, she would not object, but she was sure she did not love Loki, but Theoric. Loki in turn finds her crying and says that he had no part in any of this, that he even tried to argue against his father's decision, but had no choice.

Quick scenes would demonstrate the wedding preparations and how, in the process, Sigyn would realize that she loved her fiancé, and Loki has always loved her since he met her. Their wedding would take place in a swift and silent scene, followed by a confession of true love and a passionate kiss.

Then, brusquely and completely on purpose, they would show that Sigyn would be disappointed in her husband's actions of trying to conquer Asgard and the Earth. Still, she would visit him in prison. She found him in Asgard alive again, not showing so much surprise anymore. Afterwards, the scene shows that she and Loki dsid their goodbyes on the ship where the Asgardian refugees are, she escapes Thanos' attack on the ship, then Loki wakes up from his reverie, finding their different counterparts.

As they read the scripts together, Tom watched Yasmim, how authentic she was, how committed, attentive to what she was doing. He also saw how understanding and hardworking she was, without losing her high spirits for even a second. There beside her, from such a close angle, he was sure she was a very special woman.

Tom continued reading the scripts and Yasmim followed, delighted to be in that environment. Finally, right in the last post-credits scene of the series, she appeared with her last sentence, calling out to Loki, making sure he wasn't dead.

It was all so exciting and she couldn't wait to get started.

#my writing #fanfic #fic #beyond a chance #tom hiddleston #tom hiddleston x oc #tom hiddleston x brazilian!oc #tomim #yasmim gomes #tom x yasmim

[from-home]

𑁍 MARK LEE┊ 𝒔𝒊𝒙𝒕𝒚 𝒔𝒆𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒅𝒔, 𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒓𝒕 / one ˎˊ˗

𑁍 summary : the one where mark lee time travels back and forth throughout the past and future with his crush, (y/n) ˎˊ˗

𑁍 pairing : mark lee x older!reader (by like three years lmao) ˎˊ˗

𑁍 word count : 6.7k ˎˊ˗

𑁍 genre : fluff, comedy (i hope??), minimal angst, time travel!au ˎˊ˗

𑁍 warnings : swearing, unrequited love (i know that shit hurts omg), my humour is ass, mark gives me slight second hand embarrassment in this, bad writing??, i gave up like halfway through this lol, first time writing a fic like this pls have mercy, it’s almost 2:30 am i'm too tired to proof read fuck ˎˊ˗

𑁍 a/n : first chapter of my first ever fic on here hehe - idk when the next chapter might come tbh but hopefully i’ll continue this series for my own enjoyment! in the meantime, uni still kicks my ass >:(( but anyway, enjoy and i hope that at least someone will find joy with this!    ˎˊ˗

[ 𝟮𝟬𝟮𝟬 : 𝗗𝗔𝗬 𝟬 ]

when your pastor dad’s best friend was the biggest nerd in high school and became an eccentric scientist

O lovely Pussy! O Pussy, my love,

  What a beautiful Pussy you are,

       You are,

       You are!

What a beautiful Pussy you are!

      If he could write like that, maybe Mark wouldn't need to be here in this boring literature class of his. Don't get him wrong, he liked writing, and he liked the way he could express his emotions through a pen and paper. But for the twenty-one-year-old boy who could barely sit still in one place without his mind wandering off into four different dimensions, it was hard to be interested in whatever the professor was rambling on about. Maybe Professor Jung was telling the story of how she met Dylan Thomas' widow's sister's friend's cousin, and how much of an artistic impact it had on her. She had told the story a good three times in the past two months - Mark kept count.

      Yeah, writing was fun and all, but literature class specifically was boring and dull to him. "Oh but Mark, why take this course then?" one might ask. But one should also know that it was a necessary course if Mark wanted to earn his oh-so-coveted diploma.

      Curse him for majoring in creative writing. His dad always did wonder why writers even bother writing when the bible exists.

      But maybe one day, an hour and a half of John Keats would produce him some ideas for a romantic poem that he could write and gift off to his love of seven years... and counting.

      (Y/N), the shiniest of all pearls and the most beautiful of all Mona Lisa's, the older woman and her beauty often left Mark stunned and helplessly in love. He first met her when he was fourteen, when she had been introduced as his seventeen-year-old tutor. She was so pretty back then, and still was now. In fact, it was as if she didn't age at all!

      Someone who resembled a goddess like (Y/N)  deserved only the most romantic of all romantic poems, and Mark Lee made it a mission to be the one to write it for her. He was so helplessly in love with her that he was able to channel his feelings for her into five different written forms: poems, song lyrics, an 'A for effort?' drawing of her, letters, and anonymous blog posts about how "unrequited love hurts".

      Sure, those blog posts were anonymous, but as good as Mark thought he was at hiding his feelings for her, everybody in town and their ancestors' spirits knew about the big crush Mark had on her. But no one bothered to tell (Y/N) about her not-so-secret admirer and nobody bothered to let Mark know that his mysterious crush wasn’t as well-kept to himself as he thought it was.

      But it was cute. Not the part where Mark slowly died on the inside as each day passed without his feelings being returned (that was pretty sad, everybody acknowledged), but the part where the adoration in his eyes were so clear for (Y/N). Legend went that he held stars in his eyes whenever his gaze rested on the older woman - like, actual stars from the galaxy. Or so the first-hand accounts go.

      Mark Lee was a talented and hardworking boy, that much was a shared sentiment by everybody in town. He excelled at all subjects, mowed the lawn twice just because he thought he missed a spot, gave it his all at church every Sunday by rapping and dancing in the name of Jesus Christ until he was reduced to sweat and threatening to rip his dress shirt off - he was a jack of all trades. There were even rumours that whenever it was time for a 'Make a Wish' patient to... make a wish in heaven, he would dress up as Spiderman and visit them in the hospital to make their final dreams come true. So maybe that's why it was so endearing, his one-sided love for his noona. If there was one person who could jump over that hurdle of "just friends" and out of the friend zone, it had to be Mark, the boy who's always gave it his all in everything ever since he moved here from Canada when he was twelve. It was one thing to have this crush that you desperately wanted to be returned, but it was another to have the whole town cheering for you - it said a lot about Mark's character.

      Which is why! There was no other perfect test subject for Scientist Kim, the local eccentric scientist who was obsessed with creating his "next big invention". He also happened to be the best friend of the town's pastor (weird combination, everybody knows), courtesy of their high school days and a misunderstanding over a carton of milk. The town's pastor also oh-so-coincidentally happened to be Mark's father, who had lived in Korea for all his life until he moved to Canada so his wife could give birth to baby Mark. He ended up moving back to his hometown, however, thus creating a new relationship between his best friend and son.

      Now Scientist Kim - who liked to go by "Cabbage" as a homage to his idol, Charles Babbage - didn’t really care about Mark's painful one-sided love, but he knew the boy could never say no to his father's best friend from high school, so there was no one better to try out his experiments and inventions than Mark. Like, there was literally no one else at all - the whole town swore Cabbage was out of his mind and were still waiting for the day the newspaper would come out with a headline that he's been charged with involuntary manslaughter. Everybody would be disappointed, but not surprised. But such an incident hadn’t happened yet, so for now, Cabbage was still freely working hard everyday to successfully complete and unveil the invention that would propel him to "the front page of every science magazine and a Nobel Prize in Physics".

      And it just so happened to be today, October 30th 2020, when Mark received a phone call from his dad's best friend in the middle of class. He was glad he kept his phone on vibrate, but god, was it distracting. To answer or not to? Why now of all times? Right, he forgot that some people don't have anything else to do with their lives other than... creating things that usually end up on fire by the end of it. You know, now that he thought back on it, the last time Mark willingly participated in Cabbage's experiment which involved some tinfoil, antennas, and laser beam machining, it left Mark's right shoe on fire - thank God he had brought a fire extinguisher over to Cabbage’s house with him.

      Just that memory alone convinced Mark to ignore the call, nearly forgetting about it once it had stopped ringing if not for the fact he received another call just seconds later. "What is this, an infatuation?" Mark grumbled to himself, before glancing up at the front to see if Professor Jung was distracted enough for him to take this call without her noticing. It didn't help that he sat three rows away from the front. But she still seemed to be rambling on about how much she loved Dylan Thomas' works, and that was a sign for him to accept the call. He kept his voice to a hushed whisper, however, "Hello-"

      "Mark! You have to come over!" There was no way Professor Jung did not hear that screech that came from his phone. He glanced up nervously, noticing his classmate's startled gazes on him. But his eyes wandered over to the front, and judging by how Professor Jung was now going on about Dylan Thomas' "attractive appearance", it seemed he was in the safe for now.

      "Cabbage, I'm in class, so could you keep it down?" Mark hissed quietly into the phone.

      "Right, right, sorry!" While he was still loud even after lowering his voice down, it was more than quiet enough for Professor Jung not to notice, thankfully. "Mark, I've just completed my latest invention. But this isn't just any invention, it's the invention of both my - and everybody's dreams!"

      Mark would be mildly curious if not for the fact that Cabbage said that about every invention of his, but he figured that his dad was going to urge him to go anyway, even if Mark didn’t want to. "But he's my best friend, Mark!" Jeez, because how could he possibly say no to the power of friendship?

      "Mark? Boy? You still there?" Cabbage’s voice pulled Mark out of his thoughts, and the boy could do nothing but sigh. This was just going to be like every other time - he’d be introduced to some machine that supposedly did one thing, said machine would catch on fire the next minute, and it would all result in Mark going home an hour later.

      "Fine, I'll be there. After class in like, half an hour." Mark reassured the scientist, and he swore, he could hear something catching on fire in the background.

      "Great!" He then heard rushed footsteps and... a fire extinguisher? "See you then!" And the call ended.

      He just couldn’t wait.

       When visitors would come to the humble town of Uicheon (의천), located just thirty minutes away by car from the bustling capital city, Seoul, the first thing they would notice was how much the town gave off Suburban American vibes, like walking through a town where the main characters of some random Disney high school movie lived. All single detached houses, varying in style from Country French to Cape Cod with recent contemporary and modern upgrades to those houses by residents who wanted to "spice it up".

        Uicheon was a town seen by others where most of the population was upper-middle class. There was nothing wrong with that at all, and actually, the residents of Uicheon were both happy and welcoming of anybody and anyone who stepped foot into town or even took an interest in moving, no matter of their social or economic status.

       If anything, the residents of Uicheon - the ones who've lived in the town for longer than ten years at least - were often worried that those who did show interest of moving in inevitably get... scared off. By one particular daunting house.

       It was a beautiful town. No seriously, Uicheon had been mentioned on multiple "Top 5 beautiful towns just outside of Seoul that you should visit!" lists published on the internet. And in the beautiful small town where all the houses provide comfort and beauty, surrounded by flowers on nearly every available patch of grass like something straight out of a magazine, there stood a modern house - the only completely modern house in the town - its exterior all... black. Even the big windows were tinted black, and it was obvious that the house stuck out like a sore thumb. Sometimes, the local kids told stories of how the house was abandoned, and was home to a ghost with a vengeful spirit inside who wanted to steal your teeth. The residents of Uicheon had gotten used to the house's presence already, but it didn’t stop the mutual sentiment of "...really?" amongst them.

       And currently, Mark stood in front of its black front doors, ringing the black doorbell and covering his ears as trumpets echoed from inside the house, playing to the tune of the guitar solo of Gun N' Roses' 'Sweet Child O' Mine.' Only seconds later, did the door swing open, revealing a robot, half of Mark's height. "SCANNING FACE... HELLO M-A-R-K, MARK." It greeted, well, robotically.

       "Hey, Edison," Mark greeted the robot nonchalantly, walking in and shutting the door behind him, "where's Cabbage?" He asked as he took off his shoes and placed it on the nearby shoe rack.

       "LOCATING THE DOCTOR..." Edison's eyes turned yellow, colour blinking repeatedly until it turned into a green light and stayed like that. "DOCTOR LOCATED - HE IS IN HIS LABORATORY DOWNSTAIRS."

       Because was it really surprising that the house belonged to a guy who invented things for a living and went by the name of a vegetable in a bizarre way to honour his idol?

       "Got it, I'll go meet up with him then." Mark informed, heading down the hall until he reached the black spiral staircase that led both to the third floor and bottom floor. It was really nice up there on the third floor though; Mark had been there before and it even came with a movie room! Too bad Cabbage rarely used it because he "doesn't have time for action sequences". So Mark, being the loyal lab assistant/test subject he was, headed down instead to the bottom floor, where he was greeted by a hallway that was lined up with pictures of old men on the walls. "My inspirations!" Cabbage would say. Among them were the likes of Albert Einstein, Thomas Edison (who he named his robot after, clearly), Nikola Tesla... you got the drift.

       Regardless, Mark never stayed in the hall longer than he needed to - he wasn’t sure if portraits of old men who were dead by now staring at him was exactly his kind of vibe.

       At the very end of the hall, all that awaited him was a grey metallic door that had some vapour seeping through the narrow space at the bottom of it. "Shit, I didn't bring a fire extinguisher today..." Mark cursed, grabbing onto the straps of his backpacks and readjusting it on his shoulders. "It's okay, Mark. He hasn't killed you before, so he can't kill you today...?" He wasn’t sure what the logic behind that thought was but you couldn’t blame him for trying to... reassure himself for whatever was about to come beyond those doors. It was funny to him; he had been the lab rat of many of Cabbage's crazy experiments and inventions, yet he kept coming back and every time he did, the jitters were always there.

       Maybe it wasn’t because he was scared of death. Because he wasn’t - his father always drilled the idea into his head that God would welcome him with open arms when the time came. At the very least, if Mark died - most likely because of one of these experiments and inventions - he'd be bringing Cabbage with him. But hey, that was beyond the point.

       If not the fear of death, then what? Maybe, just maybe... one of these days, one of Cabbage's revolutionary inventions would actually be successful. That for all of the craziness that's going on inside the mad scientist's head, it would finally pay off.

       If only he knew when.

       Mark reached for the handle and twisted it, pulling the door open and nearly coughing when a whole cloud of mist and vapour rushed at him. "Jeez, Cabbage, what are you doing this time?" Mark coughed into his arm as he took a step into the laboratory. He actually couldn't see the scientist at first, waving his hand around in hopes that he'd be able to swat away the mist and vapour. The space around him eventually did clear, though, revealing...

       Nothing?

       Instead of the usual grand machine that looked like it was taped together, Mark was greeted with... a clear space. The scientist was over at his desk just up a set of stairs that led to a second floor within the big room. "Cabbage!" Mark called after him, waving his hands to get his attention.

       Whatever the scientist was busy doing, it was important enough to leave Mark ignored for a good five seconds. It left him pouting, though the scientist eventually did glance over at the boy, his eyes widening behind his circular glasses. "Mark, boy, there you are!" Cabbage sprang out of his seat, quickly rushing down to the boy he had called over. He held some sort of watch in his hands, like it was the most precious thing in the world. Jeez, since when did Cabbage wear Rolex? "Took you long enough! I was bouncing in my seat waiting for you to come over! But in the meantime, I was able to complete another one after confirming my calculations for the twenty-seventh time..."

       One thing that nobody wanted to do was sit through Cabbage's rambling, prompting Mark to speak up. "Whoa, calm down, Cabbage. What's going on? Where's your invention?"

       "Oh Mark, you're looking at it." Cabbage held out the watch and Mark raised an eyebrow.

       "That small thing?" Mark narrowed his eyes at the watch in the scientist's hand. "Are you sure? Last time I came in for one of your creations, it was twice my size and almost killed me." But knowing the kind of person Cabbage was, Mark wouldn't be too surprised if this little watch managed to wreck havoc as well. How ironic it would be, for something so small to cause so much chaos.

       Cabbage shook his head, meeting Mark's gaze with oddly serious eyes. "Mark, the creation I hold in my hand can - and will - change the world. If left in the wrong hands, everything could collapse. Society will crumble, the universe will be left in a never-ending stream of terror, reality will no longer exist, the concept of time will-"

       "Okay, okay," Mark was left, once again, trying to calm down the frantic scientist, "Cabbage, deep breaths. Tell me, what did you create?" It couldn't be that bad that it left the older man going on some admittedly fear-inducing rant.

       "A time travel machine."

       One Mississippi, two Mississippi...

       "Alright, I'll see you next time then, Cabbage." And almost immediately, Mark turned on his heel, prepared to just dip out of there.

       "Wait, no, Mark!" The scientist called after the boy, grabbing a hold of his sleeve, "Please, hear me out!"

       "Time travel, Cabbage!" Mark whirled around, disbelief painted in his features. "Do you even hear yourself right now? That's impossible! This is impossible! Listen, I'm fine with being your test subject but even I have to put my foot down somewhere when things get a bit too crazy!"

       Despite Mark's reasonable concerns, Cabbage really didn't feel like letting his lab assistant slip away from the tip of his fingers, especially now of all times. "Come on, Mark! Twenty-seven times! I checked my calculations twenty-seven times! Don't let my hard work go down the drain!"

       "Then do it yourself! Time travel yourself!" Mark exclaimed.

       "I can't! I need you to go so I can stay behind and collect all the data while making sure you don't get stuck in the future or something!" Cabbage explained.

       Unfortunately, Mark's face still showed utter disbelief. "You know, this really doesn't help your case, Cabbage!"

       "Fine! We'll do this the fair way then!" Cabbage shouted, holding his fist out.

       "Are you serious? Rock, paper, scissors?!" Mark cried out, covering his eyes. If there was one thing he couldn't say no to, it was rock, paper, scissors. Why? Maybe because he boasts a seven-hundred-fifty-two win record, with a mere twenty-one losses in the game. As you could probably assume, Mark was the undisputed rock, paper, scissors king in Uicheon, and only two kinds of people would dare challenge him in the game when it came to bets. Those who were bold and those who were desperate.

       "I mean it, Mark! If you win, you can walk right out that door and never look back. I won't force this onto you. But if I win..." If Cabbage won, "you have to at least give this experiment a thought."

       "Wait, that's it?" Mark uncovered his eyes, surprise in his voice. But hey, it wasn't a bad deal at all - in fact, the opposite. If Mark won - which he was pretty much guaranteed to - he could leave. If he didn't, he could pretend he thought it over and just say no in the end. "Well shit, say no more, Cabbage." And out Mark's fist went. “On shoot?”

       "On shoot." The scientist confirmed, the two men placing their fists behind their backs.

       "Rock, paper, scissors, shoot!"

       Rock for Mark, and... rock for Cabbage.

       "You got lucky." Mark rolled his shoulders back. "But this is it." And back their fists went behind them.

       "Rock, paper, scissors... shoot!!"

       Scissors for Mark, and... rock for Cabbage.

       "I won..." Cabbage glanced down at his fist, mouth left agape, "I-I won! Against you!"

       Yikes, better make that record seven-hundred-fifty-two wins to twenty-two losses now.

       "I-I..." Mark was still in disbelief, for a totally different reason now, however. "I... I lost?" Under such circumstances too... but seriously! Time travel was a bit too much! "H-Hey, that doesn't mean I'm going to be going through with this! Remember, you said if you won, you'd let me think about it!" Mark reminded.

       "Yeah, but only because I didn't think I'd actually win!" Cabbage snorted, shaking his head as he tucked the watch safely in the pocket of his white lab coat. "But I am a man of my word, so I'll give you some time to think about it. How about until the end of the day?" He suggested.

       "That's a bit too soon, don't you think?" Mark frowned, not really liking the idea of being forced into a decision so quickly.

       "Sorry, is that loser talk?" God, that damn Cabbage always knew how to get under Mark's skin.

       "Fine, by the end of the day. But don't be surprised if my answer doesn't change." Mark warned. "Now if that's it, I'll be going." Mark huffed, turning around and heading to the door once more. This time, the scientist let him go, but not without some parting words.

       "See you soon, Mark."

       (Y/N) doesn't know where her life went wrong.

       Okay, maybe that was a bit of an exaggeration and a dramatic one as well, but it didn't change the fact that instead of living out in the city and pursuing her dream as a world renown film director, she was stuck in her small hometown, working full-time at a film-rental store.

       What was even the point of this store anyway? Everything was online nowadays anyway - who did the owner think he was, trying to compete with Netflix?

       "One Mississippi, two Mississippi..." (Y/N) mumbled to herself from behind the counter, staring dully at the analog clock hung just above the front doors. An analog clock - what year was this again?

       "(Y/N)," the voice of the store's owner, Mr. Yoon, was a less than welcoming disruption to her daily "clock-watching" (as she termed it herself), but at least it was a good way to remind her that the day was almost over, "did the kids all go home already?"

       (Y/N) nodded, reaching below into the counter for a piece of paper with names and times. "Yup, Jungwoo and Sungchan just finished their shifts half an hour ago." She pointed to their names on the paper, "Signed out here."

       "Great. You're in charge of closing up for today then, I have business in the city." Mr. Yoon informed, proudly readjusting his grip on the handles of his briefcase.

       "Godspeed, Mr. Yoon." (Y/N) nodded, watching as the man left with a nod. And as the doors closed behind him, the female found herself alone in the store. All alone... which actually wasn't even that uncommon.

       (Y/N); twenty-four years old, graduated from a local college two years ago with a degree in Film Studies with hopes of eventually entering the field of film-making and directing. She had high hopes, especially when she graduated. "To the city and A-list I go!" She could remember cheering that day in her car, diploma in hand and graduation gown still on.

       But somebody must have forgotten to tell her that the university you went to mattered - and just how competitive the job market was for... pretty much every job.

       Now this wasn't to say the college she attended was bad or anything, it just wasn't... one of the SKY universities.  And before she knew it, when it came time for job hunting, the positions were constantly being filled out by "better candidates" and after a certain amount of "we regret to inform you"s, (Y/N) decided to go back home.

       Home, in the beautiful yet small town of Uicheon. All she wanted was to make it big, live in a nice condo in Seoul and shop at luxury brands. Yet now, she found herself wearing what was possibly a ten-year-old uniform from the back storage with a name tag that was always tilted at a forty-five degree angle no matter how many times she tried to fix it.

       But don't get her wrong! She hadn't given up yet - she absolutely would not! Her films might not be playing in theatres or at the Busan International Film Festival, but she still enjoyed writing up ideas and getting some of her co-workers to act out some scenes for her while she filmed eagerly with her trusty camcorder.

       The Sony HDR-CX675; this bad boy cost her a good two months of saving up but God, was it worth it. Jungwoo in a wig and Sungchan throwing pens like they were daggers had never looked so good in HD until (Y/N) had gotten her hands on that beloved camcorder of hers.

       "Should I film the clock or something?" She sighed, eyes wandering back over to the analog clock. At least she only had an hour left before the store closed, and she usually spent most of that time cleaning up anyway.

       And so that hour began, dreadfully long until with only ten minutes to spare, the front door had opened, prompting (Y/N) to rush back to the counter from the storage room, though not without grumbling to herself quietly about what asshole comes into a store ten minutes before they close.

       But it wasn't just anybody who came in - it was Mark, the boy who always complimented her hair no matter how lazy she had been to brush it that day. Still, flattery always earned some brownie points in (Y/N)’s books. So she wasn't hesitant at all when she had greeted Mark. "Hey, it's nice to see you here! Renting a movie?" She asked, resting her arms on the counter top.

       "Yeah, looking for some Christian-friendly Halloween movie. For the kids at church this Sunday, since Halloween is tomorrow." Mark chuckled shaking his head.

       "Let me see what I can find," (Y/N) grinned as she slipped away from the counter and to one of the shelves, "I'll be honest though, you're probably better off showing the kids some cartoon from Netflix or something."

       As if Mark was going to tell her that he insisted to his dad on renting a movie, for he wanted to see and talk to the girl of his dreams who currently had her back turned to him. "Well you know us, terrible with technology." Instead, that was all he could muster up.

       "I'll bet." She snickered jokingly, turning back to him with a movie now in her hand, "Toy Story of Terror sound good to you?"

       "Better than showing them Scream." Mark shrugged before heading back to the counter with her. "I'll pay with debit."

       "Mhm," (Y/N) nodded, taking his card and swiping it for him through the machine, "you know the usual, watch within thirty days and return it after those thirty days." She reminded him with a yawn. God forbid Mr. Yoon ever see that.

       "Busy day?" Mark offered a small sympathetic smile as he took his card back as well as the movie. "I kind of get it. Cabbage called me in for one of his inventions today."

       "Today?" She asked, watching as the boy across from her nodded. "What was it this time?" Everybody in town felt bad for Mark since he was the one always testing out Cabbage's inventions, but at the same time, at least it wasn't them?

       "Gosh, you wouldn't believe me if I said it." He shook his head with a heavy sigh. "A time travel machine - or like, a time travel watch, I guess."

       "Time travel?" The gasp from the female was expected; anybody would be surprised. "I always knew Cabbage was ambitious but definitely not to the extent of time travel!"

       "Yeah, needless to say, I said no. Or like, I told him I would think about it, you know?" Mark frowned. "I just can't believe... time travel of all things."

       "I'll be honest," there was a smile spreading on (Y/N)’s face, to the slight surprise of Mark, "the idea of time travel sounds so cool though. I'd love to try it out." When Mark had brought up what had happened at Cabbage's house, he didn't think (Y/N) would actually be... interested in the scientist's invention. Definitely not when it was so absurd. But she looked so cute, the way she stood up straighter and her attentive eyes as he talked about it. Gosh, he wished he could tell her that it wasn't worth the time. But her interest was clear, that much he couldn't ignore.

       "Then... why don't you try it in my place?" Mark suggested hesitantly. He didn't want (Y/N) and her pretty little self anywhere near those dangerous creations, for concern of her safety. But she really seemed to be interested in this, and this... it was the least he could do.

       "Alone? No thanks." She giggled softly, to the relief of the boy who had suggested it in the first place. "Maybe if someone else was with me though. Like a time travel duo!" Hold up - someone else?

       "This is your chance, Mark!" His inner voice practically screamed at him. Anything for (Y/N), right? "But it's so dangerous!" His other inner voice tried deterring him from going through with what he was about to suggest. But for (Y/N)! "Then," Mark felt his heartbeat quicken, excitement and hope visible in his eyes, "you wouldn't mind if we did it together, would you?"

       If his friends Johnny and Donghyuck were here, they'd definitely be cheering and slapping him on the back. It felt like he was asking her out, something he always dreamed of doing but never really having the guts to do so. Rejection was a scary thought, but as he watched the wide smile that spread onto (Y/N)’s face, he knew he had something to look forward to, even if through... this.

       "Of course! it'll be fun!" Score! "Too bad only one person can go though, I assume." She frowned.

       And for a second, Mark's hopes had shattered once again. But then he remembered something back at Cabbage's house, and maybe, just maybe, it wasn't over yet. "Actually, I think Cabbage mentioned making two watches." After confirming his calculations twenty-seven times. "Why don't we go together?"

       "Seriously? You wouldn't mind?" Oh, what Mark wouldn't given just to see that wide smile on (Y/N)’s face every single second of the day.

       And with a smile of his own, he nodded. "Of course not, noona."

       Love has always been a motivation for man, ever since the beginning of humans. And as time continued on and advanced, a variety of factors had been added to that list of motivation, such as money and power. But one constant above all was always going to be love - something that had always been interpersonal.

       So that was why Cabbage wasn't too particularly surprised to see Mark come back to his house later in the evening, this time, with a female companion. And judging by the look of awe on her face, it didn't take much for the scientist to connect the dots. "Mark, you came back!" Cabbage smiled down at the boy from the second floor of his basement lab. "With a friend this time?"

       "Right," Mark cleared his throat, gesturing to the scientist, "(Y/N), this is Cabbage as you already know, and Cabbage, this is (Y/N), my friend."

       "Hi! It's great to be here! Like, really great." (Y/N) was still enamoured by the many... things going on in the lab, though Mark couldn't blame her.

       "Anyway Mark, have you given my invention a thought?" Cabbage inquired, standing up from his seat by his computer and leaning against the railing. "I assume that's why you're here, after all."

       Mark nodded. "I have." He confirmed, biting down on his lip. "And I'll do it."

       "You will?" The scientist's eyes widened, grin spreading on his face. "That's great!"

       "But," Mark began, gaze falling over onto (Y/N) for a short second before back onto the scientist, "with conditions."

       "Conditions?" Cabbage raised an eyebrow, pleasantly intrigued.

       "Conditions!" (Y/N) suddenly spoke up with a grin, earning a look from the two. "Sorry, it just felt kind of intense so I wanted to ease tensions a bit." She coughed, glancing back and forth between the two. "Please, continue." She urged.

       "A-Anyway yes, conditions." Mark cleared his throat before turning to the scientist once more. "I want (Y/N) to come with me. You have two watches, don't you?"

       "I do." Cabbage nodded, fishing his hand into the pocket of his lab coat and bringing out two identical watches. "So far, they're the only two I have so I need to make sure that your friend will be extra careful with this."

       "She will." Mark reassured without any hesitation. "I know she will, because she's (Y/N)." A man who was claiming everybody's hearts left and right - except for (Y/N)’s though, unfortunately.

       Cabbage looked as if he was pondering on the thought for a bit before eventually nodding and making his way down the stairs. "Well, if Mark is vouching for you, I guess it should be okay." Cabbage nodded before gesturing for the two to follow him to the back of the lab, where large screen rested on the wall and multiple smaller monitors on both it's sides, resting on a glass desk. Below it were multiple keyboards, a few touch pads here and there with clearly different functions. It was like something straight out of a sci-fi movie. "This is where I'll be monitoring and communicating with you two while you're in whatever time period you land in." He explained, gesturing to his set up.​​​​​​​

       "What about the watches?" (Y/N) asked.

       "I'm just getting to that." Cabbage nodded, reaching for the two watches once again. "Gather around, you two." He motioned for them to come closer. "It looks like a regular analog watch at first, but if you tap the clock face," he did what he had just said, the other two watching in awe as a small digital hologram had appeared in the air, just above the clock face, "it has information such as your battery life on the right hand corner, the date and time you're in, the option to video call me, and the option to switch time periods." He pointed out each detail on the hologram. "Now the problem with the switching time periods is that once you arrive somewhere, you're stuck there for, at a minimum, twenty-four hours before the voltage and particle energies recharge and allow you to travel elsewhere."

       "Wait, so you're staying we might be stuck in a different time for a whole day?" Mark asked, a bit of alarm evident in his voice.

       "Unfortunately, I haven't been able to find out the proper calculations to make the recharging process quicker but for the meantime... yes." The scientist sighed. "But hey, at least it's not twenty-five hours...?"

       "Cabbage!" Mark groaned, running his hand down his face.

       "I mean, twenty-four hours doesn't sound that bad." (Y/N) hummed. "I'd love to explore a different time period, really get to know what it was like!"

       "See, at least someone's optimistic." Cabbage sent a not-so-subtle look over at Mark. "But anyway, I actually have a quest for you two."

       "Ooh, a quest! I feel like I'm in a video game." (Y/N) giggled, and if it weren't for the fact that she was totally digging this right now, Mark would have just straight up left out of fear for his own safety.

       "Exactly!" Cabbage nodded eagerly. "Since you two will be going to different time periods, I want you to bring back a memento of some sort from each time period."

       "Anything specific?" Mark asked, wanting to make sure he was going into this with full details.

       "Yes, for the purpose of analytic purposes due to their high amount of energy." Cabbage turned to the two, a suddenly serious look on his face. "A meaningful item to at least one person you encounter."

​​​​​​​        The two waited for him to say more, but nope, all he did was stare back at them. Mark ended up being the first to speak up. "Hm, I think you're missing the part where you, oh I don't know, tell us what you mean by ‘meaningful item’??"

       "That will vary from person to person, Mark boy." Cabbage sighed, giving an empathetic pat on the boy's shoulder. "One person's 'meaningful item' might be a necklace that their mother gifted them, or maybe a letter from a lover for a soldier - everything in life is a variable anyway."

       "Wait, then how do we know something is a meaningful item?" (Y/N) asked.

​​​​​​​        "That's where this last function of the watches come in," Cabbage turned his attention back to the watches, "this icon," he pointed to one of the icons on the hologram screen that resembled a heart, "will allow you to scan a person once you've talked to them. This only works one person at a time though, and it does drain a lot of energy from the watch battery. It'll allow you to see particles coming from objects, like sparkles. The more vivid, bigger and brighter the particles, chances are that's your person's meaningful item. So be careful with who you choose to use it on - once you scan that person, you'll have to find their meaningful item before you can use it again. Not to mention that the longer it takes for you to find the meaningful item, the more energy it drains." He warned.

​​​​​​​        "Talk about ominous, gosh." Mark sighed, shaking his head. "I can't believe I'm doing this."

       "It'll be exciting though, Mark." (Y/N) glanced over at the boy beside her, a grin spreading on her face. "We're in this together, after all!"

       "Noona..." A shade of red coated Mark's cheeks as he stared down at her, eyes sparkling with adoration.

       "Ahem, and me too." Cabbage interrupted, "Just, I'll be back here handling everything."        

       "Yes, of course, because where would we be without you, Cabbage?" Mark sighed, feeling a bit salty over the scientist's interruption during his and (Y/N)’s "moment".

       "Love you too, Mark." Cabbage blew a kiss his way before handing a watch to Mark and (Y/N) each. "Are you two ready?"

       "Wait, we're doing this so soon?" Mark's eyes widened, staring down at the watch in his hands with a bit of fear.

       "Better sooner than later." Cabbage shrugged, helping attach the watch onto Mark's wrist and then to (Y/N)’s. "You guys will be fine, don't worry. I'm here, after all!"

       "So reassuring, Cabbage." Mark grumbled, about to protest over the quick timing and suddenness of all of this if not for the sudden feeling of warmth in one of his hands. He glanced down at said hand, eyes lingering on the smaller hand that had clasped his own. And as his eyes wandered up to the hand's owner, he swore she was going to be the death of him.

       "It'll be okay, Mark." (Y/N) squeezed his hand softly with a reassuring smile. "We're in this together." She repeated.

       "Right..." Mark trailed off before taking a deep breath and nodding. "Together." He then glanced over at the scientist. "We're ready, Cabbage."

       With an excited smile, the older man nodded before turning to his set up and taking a seat down in the chair. The sounds of his quick tapping against the keyboard keys had Mark worrying with every passing second, but as (Y/N) held his hand, he figured this wouldn't be a terrible way to die. "Adios, you two!" Cabbage called out before hitting one last button. Click!

       And as a bright and large flash of light illuminated within the lab, Mark knew it had begun, especially with the way his limbs practically burned and his consciousness struggling to stay intact.

       The things he'd do for love, huh?

#nct fluff #mark lee fluff #mark lee #nct mark fluff #nct 127 #nct u #nct dream #mark lee x reader #nct #nct 2020 #nct fics #nct x reader #nct angst #mark lee angst

[alchemist-shizun]

Seirios

Read on Ao3!

Check out the wonderful artwork by @jajathelivingmeme !! She’s a delight and a talented friend 💜

Word Count: 22,331

Characters: Roman, Virgil, Deceit, Remus, Logan, Patton, Emile, Remy, Thomas

Pairing(s): Prinxiety, Loceit, Remile

Warning(s): minor character death and death mentions, implied bad parenting (minor), slight violence, not physical, unrequited romance, kissing, crying, panic attack, ptsd, blood, face and eye injury, scar mention, knives mention, hospital mention, very slight gore (just in an emotional description), insomnia mention, Passing out, apparent major characters death (tell me if I missed anything!)

Summary: It's hard for kids to fall asleep. It's especially hard for Remus when he can't help but stare at the night sky, mesmerized. That's why his guardian and uncle Janus decided to tell him a bed time story about two stars' lives and adventures along with the Sun and the Moon. Janus surely didn't expect for the storytelling to lead them to meet the local astronomer, Logan, not to mention develop a stronger bond with him. The best bit? All of his stories were true. Meet Janus Hydra, a fallen shooting star become human, and come listen to the events he witnessed while in space.

A/N: This is my entry for @ts-storytime ! A big thank you to @i-am-overly-complicated for the moral support and some suggestions, and to @crazydemigod666 for beta reading the fic, love ya bud. I worked super hard on this, I hope you all enjoy! Taglist will be added in a reblog.

✾

❝ It's you, it's you, it's all for you,

Everything I do.

I tell you all the time,

Heaven is a place on earth with you. ❞

He knew nothing of the sky.

He would look out of the window at night and glance up at the starry empyrean, wondering how it was possible that his mother had been part of those celestial entities.

And maybe, now that she was gone, he hoped she was part of them again, the stardust she had left behind now scattered across the universe.

« Remus? » his uncle Janus knocked on the door to his room and peeked inside. « Ready to settle down for the night? »

The kid sighed and stepped away from the window he was resting his arms and head on; sleeping was the part of the day he hated the most, there were so many things awaiting him, ideas in his head he wanted to get out in the real world, how could he simply lay dead doing absolutely nothing for eight hours straight?

Resting was too boring and Remus could think of more than a few things to do in its place.

Janus took a couple of steps in his nephew's direction and held out a hand to him like he was doing a grand gesture.

« Is the little duke in the mood for his sleeping duty? »

« Don't think so. » Remus shrugged and glanced at his bed with disinterest.

He pretended he didn't notice his uncle's small sigh and that expression that always seemed to show veiled compassion whenever the kid wouldn't comply.

Janus thought that Remus was a wonderful child, probably the strongest one he'd ever met, there was nothing he was not grateful for when it came to him: only a couple of years had passed from Angy's death, along with his father leaving him behind right after, and there wasn't a day in which he had let himself feel defeated.

After all, Janus had realized that he was the one to really need the other during that period.

Yet there was that one little detail Remus couldn't get himself behind, which was the need to lie your body down and prepare yourself for the following day. He could struggle all he wanted, but there was no way for either of them to find a solution.

Until Janus posed that fateful question in his mind: what would Angy do in this situation?

He raised his eyebrows as the best option surfaced.

Remus watched him tap his finger on his chin, looking around the room for a seat until he brought one in himself, placing it next to the bed the eight-year-old was now sitting on.

Anguis Hydra had been a shooting star in the sky and a writer on Earth when she fell along with her brother, and if there was something her brother knew best was that the finest solution to any problem she had found was storytelling.

Her readers had given her the nickname of “Angst Hydra”, for how much pain they felt thanks to her books.

Little did they know the stories were real: stories based off of other stars encounters they had had during their travels, her memory her sharpest tool.

« Did Angy ever tell you about the most luminous star you can see from the Earth's sky? »

Janus saw Remus's little eyebrows furrow, sign of a notion that was new to him. He brought his legs to his chest as he leaned on his pillow.

« It's actually a binary system, which is composed of two stars orbiting around each other. »

« Is it the … Sirius system? » Remus seemed to recall, his eyes narrowed in uncertainty.

Janus nodded. « Good job. So, all earthlings know about them is astronomical details, the usual research stuff, right? »

The kid made an agreement noise, curious to where that was gonna land.

« They call them Sirius A and B, but as you may expect there's a lot more into it. » he leaned in, his voice barely above a whisper. « Your mum and I had the occasion to meet them and witness their life events. » he could already notice the excitement growing in Remus's eyes. « So, want to listen to their fairytale? »

« Will there be chaos? »

« You have no idea. » both of them grinned as the kid settled in the only right way he knew: wrapping himself up in a blanket burrito and using his pillow as a seat.

« I'm ready! »

« Keep in mind that it's a long story, so we won't be able to cover all of it tonight, alright? »

Remus nodded despite defeated; Janus, on the other hand, knew that if he managed to get him hooked on the tale, he could have made his nephew look forward to bedtime and made things relatively easier.

A win-win situation.

The man turned off the room's lights only to switch on the bedside lamp with green LEDs.

« Alright little duke. » he moved in a comfortable position. « It's time for you to learn of the dance of the stars during the sunset, the moment the sun and the moon meet to leave each other's place to one another. »

Remus had never heard of such a thing, it was a simple tradition his mother and his uncle never took part of as their star selves happened to be constantly moving around with no time for grand events.

« But let's start from the beginning: let me introduce you to our beloved protagonists. »

✾✾✾✾

There were two notions stars were born with: the concept of the moon and the one of the sun.

They were aware there were multiple ones depending on which solar system they were close to, which planet they were taking into account.

But if there was a third piece of knowledge Virgil was certain of, it was that ever since he'd seen him from his little spot, he had been in love with the sun.

Such a titanic star shielding his own much smaller one.

When he was little, he'd look up at the sun and find a hero, a role model he had always been eager to follow: now, whenever he did that, he longed for contact and the revelation of his gorgeous self he wasn't yet able to meet from afar.

Casual passerby stars or nebulae narrated their encounters with the sun, encounters of which Virgil only grew jealous.

His admiration could only grow as much as he couldn't even fathom the grandiosity of those meetings, as he still wondered what was the intensity with which the sun's eyes glowed, the warmth of his protection and his benevolence.

« You want me to tell you about Emile, little one? » Patton was one of those nebulae that had been already circulating for a while and were old enough to attend a very important event that a myriad of stars took part in.

He hadn't quite realized why Virgil was so eager to meet the sun, but hadn't questioned it once since he'd met him.

« Well there are quite a few tales I can tell you about him! »

And so he did and Virgil found himself hanging onto every single word that escaped the other's mouth.

The little star could do nothing but wait for more stories as he grew along the space around him, hoping that maybe one day his orbit would find him.

Everything was going to change once he'd reached stability and joined the

Sunset's Ball.

✾✾✾✾

« The what? » Remus's sleepy eyes questioned Janus.

« One thing at a time, Rem. » the adult brushed some locks from Remus's forehead. « I'll get there later. But first, there's someone else you need to acknowledge. »

✾✾✾✾

Roman had always been aware of his star title: Sirius A. Thanks to that, he had also always known how he was part of a binary system.

Ever since then, he had been more than eager to meet the other star of his system, dreaming of one day finally finding a friend in them, like he had found in Patton, who would always bring news of Virgil.

He had learnt his name thanks to the nebula and mentioned it in his thoughts and conversations like he was a lifelong friend.

Roman's star was bigger and brighter than Sirius B, greatly shielding its vision.

He felt lonely during his growth and stabilization, anyone would have been intimidated by his star dimensions, therefore the visits paid to him were far less than the ones reserved for Virgil.

Yet he would spend his days trying to get someone's attention and, eventually, he'd stop to look down at the other star and wonder when their meeting would come.

Would it come at all?

Star dances were commonly known, but many happened during the day, so one wouldn't be sure of who they were going to end up with until their very first Ball.

That type of dance was the only one performed by stars, it occurred daily and it was a celebration of either sunset or sunrise, the moments in which the Sun and the Moon met and exchanged greetings, only to swap places with each other.

Only the most important stars could participate, once  stability was reached and they were certain that they would've caused no harm to others: the floating palace in which they took place had been the same for millennia and not a single wrong move had been done to endanger it, it had now become a pillar in their history.

Reaching that place was kind of a rite of passage for the stars and proof of respectability for Roman since, compared to the Sun, he and some other stars were far bigger.

Yet, humans had praised the Moon and his partner as actual gods in various religions and cultures, along with other planets they had acknowledged.

So the bigger celestial objects resonated that their importance still varied and wasn't related to how they presented, but rather to who they were, thus they learnt to stand their ground.

And even so, Roman's true goal had always been a different one.

He was going to meet Virgil, one way or another.

✾✾✾✾

Remus's head hit his uncle's arm lightly, a tiny bump against Janus's sleeve; the man took a break from his storytelling after noticing that the boy's eyes were closed, having finally resigned to the heaviness of sleep, smiled to himself and tucked his nephew in bed.

He followed his nightly routine as well which consisted of watching tv until he passed out and woke up way too early for his schedule, only to go back to sleep in his room for a couple more hours.

If only that night had gone exactly like that.

Janus had touched his mattress at around the same indecent time he did normally and fallen asleep minutes after.

Flashes happened and now hands were on his face, twisted and disappeared, turning into a pair of green eyes that were looking fondly at another woman. They laughed and held hands and he had a knot in his stomach as he hugged him a little too tightly. And Janus was breathing, then not, then sobbing, then he knew her happiness came first because the world was so cruel to him. Then Janus smiled, then he didn't, he held his breath as she stopped altogether and then the green-eyed man left. And he?

He woke up.

Barely three hours had passed and he was already sitting up, hugging himself and resting his face on his knees, his expression contorted in a multitude of unpleasantries.

That was not possible.

He was over that, he was over him, there was no need for his subconscious to resurface the majority of his life's regrets so far.

There was definitely no need to remember, to say the least.

What he was gonna do now was going back to sleep and never think about that dream ever again.

Of course, he actually laid awake to stare at the ceiling blankly until his alarm went off, which he turned off automatically, solely moving his arm.

He had looked into the mirror once he had gotten to his bathroom and forced a smile on, but the usual sparkles stars emanated when happy didn't surround his skin.

When he had gotten Remus to school, the kid had pointed out how darker his eye-bags had become lately.

« Can I get matching ones? »

« No, lil duke, better not. » you're gonna end up like this eventually as an adult.

Janus was sick of the constant pitiful glances he got from his co-workers when he had a bad day, the whispers they passed between each other, the fake respectability they kept when he was in a low mood.

None of them personally knew Janus on a close level.

So, as he thought, none of them could have felt entitled to initiate a conversation on a low-key personal topic.

Yet, there a man was, sliding a card on his desk.

« He's a good therapist, I've heard. If you … you know, have any troubles or if your nephew- »

Not even a glance at the name and Janus's insides were revolting. « We don't need it. » a tight-lipped smile set on his face. « Thank you anyway. »

The man almost ran away at that, embarrassed and frantically looking back at his own work position.

Janus took the card in his hands.

Those same innocent and achingly beautiful green eyes stared back at him; Clyde Davis had been his brother in law for as long as Anguis had been alive, once on Earth.

He didn't mean for his memories to overcome him yet again, but here he was, almost blinded near the day of the death's anniversary.

His eyes fixated on the nothingness right above the floor as thoughts flew by his mind: Angy and him had just fallen on Earth, somehow adjusting to the humans' costumes in no time.

They had some slip-ups when it came to ethics and morality, that was why when it came to the realization of feelings the two brothers had different experiences.

Who would've thought humans were so idiotic to banish certain natural forms of love such as the ones not stereotypically between a man and a woman? (the issues on gender identity and sex were also introduced to them on that planet, as stars lacked the concept despite their anthropomorphic forms)

Who would've thought Janus had to find out from the news right after realizing he had gotten a crush for the same man his sister had fallen in love with?

Sure, it was easier to let her happiness come first that way, but it didn't mean his feelings were hurting any less.

If anything, he was constantly mixing joy and guilt, some sort of bittersweet ending that didn't sit right with his emotions, but it did with his conscience.

Wrong wasn't how he felt at Anguis and Clyde's wedding, but maybe more relieved as he was sure that way his love could've dissipated.

At least he hoped so, especially since he was going to live alone from then on.

He thought distance had worked, but then Remus happened and he visited more often than ever, especially since the boy resembles the two people he loved the most.

The circumstances didn't help him, but he had learnt to disguise how he felt better.

Janus thought nothing could've shattered that nice picture.

And then Anguis fell ill.

Some kind of immunodeficiency, a state that saw her body shut down as a star that slowly died and stopped lighting up the night sky.

He had seen her eyes turn black, he had known all along what it meant, but he did not want to accept it. Only deny it to himself as he was now living at her place, helping out when he could.

When the fatal day occurred, Janus, Clyde and Remus were standing by her as her skin got almost colder than the bed she was in.

It hadn't sparkled in too long.

She knew what was going on, she had intimated them to say goodbye as much as they didn't want to; she looked unfairly defeated.

As the time struck, her body stiffened and everything left of her was stardust that emanated its final glow.

Janus's memory had blocked out everything that came after, especially the funeral.

Of course, he couldn't have forgotten the day Clyde came to him, his eyes now dull and distant, He wanted to leave, start a new life and leave behind everything else because he could not bear to look at Remus or him and be reminded of Anguis.

Clyde asked him to take Remus's custody and for the first time Janus had wanted to punch his face rather than kiss him.

But he had instead accepted, not out of empathy, but because he had become so lost that he wasn't sure his reality was so truthful anymore.

Remus had been a blessing, saving him from negativity more than he could with himself. He was a wonder, that kid.

Janus had zoned out for so long that he came back to Earth only as he was sitting on an armchair at home, while his nephew played with some toys right behind him.

« Hey. Did you know you're a wonderful kid? »

« I thought that was obvious. Also, gross, I'd rather be called stinky! » he hadn't even looked up from his creation.

Janus snorted. « Of course. » he made to get up and make dinner.

Later in the evening, Remus had climbed onto the counter and stared at Janus, who was leaning against the furniture while drinking some warm tea.

« I'm going to the astronomy museum tomorrow! »

« I know. »

« Don't you think it's time for a story then? »

The man giggled. « Are you bribing me? »

« You've been brooding all day, uncle! » he jumped back down, and hugged his waist only to pull him out of the kitchen.

Janus did his best not to stumble. « Alright, alright, we need some time-out time. » he picked his nephew up and in a minute they were settled for their storytelling.

« So- »

« Did dad show up? »

He fell silent, baffled by the sudden question. He gave Remus a puzzled look.

« You always act absent when something related to him happens. » the kid explained.

Who gave an eight-year-old the right to be that smart?

Janus opened and closed his mouth several times. « Well- Not exactly. » he scratched the back of his neck. « They talked about him. I think I might have gotten … triggered? » he wasn't sure whether or not that was the right term to use. But he did feel numb for the majority of the day, despite the flashbacks.

« Well, fuck him. »

« Rem- »

« No, fuck that guy. » Remus raised his voice more, but Janus didn't find it in himself to stop him. « he just dropped his burdens on you and left like a coward! Fuck that bullshit! » his face was red with anger.

« I know. But dear, you're not a burden. »

« I don't even care if I am for him. »

« Let me finish. » Janus used the calmest tone possible to balance out the other's upset. « As much as you don't agree with what he's done, you have to remember everyone's got their own way to cope. »

He sighed, eyes fixed to the floor. « In his case, he could've probably been a bad parent for you and decided to trust you with me rather than himself. He knows I love you just as much, so he wanted you to be in a certainly safe environment. »

Remus wasn't still entirely convinced.

« The thing is, he feared not being able to raise you the way you deserve. You still have all the right to be angry at him, of course. But you need to know that you didn't do anything bad for this all to happen, okay? »

The kid bit the inside of his mouth. « Yeah, I know. You've told me plenty of times. »

« Repetita iuvant. And honestly you've been of help more than he would imagine, so … yeah fuck him. »

The duo snickered and gave each other a matching mischievous glance.

« But seriously, no swearing like a sailor until you're older, okay? At least not in front of other adults, you know how they get easily impressed. »

« Ugh, they never let me do anything fun. »

« Capitalism. »

« What? »

« Nothing, let's carry on with the story. Tonight, Virgil and Roman are going to finally meet. »

✾✾✾✾

Roman was ecstatic.

He had been accompanied by Patton and they had now made their entrance in the ballroom.

The space looked fancy and highly decorated, white, gold and blue themes coloured every object, glistening with a bit of purple here and there. It felt like being in the gods' lair, high columns sustained a roof for a space much bigger than its guests.

A pompous environment that suggested any trait related to space and stars.

Everyone was dressed up for the occasion, he felt like he was in the middle of one of those royal dances humans had to entertain themselves.

They all had a mask covering part of their face; it was a way of respecting the Sun and Moon as they had yet to arrive and would wear it as well until they took it off alongside everyone.

Clothes and masks were pretty much the same for everyone, changing based on the type of star you were, only the colours changed for everybody.

Roman was wearing crimson items; they often recalled the color of a star's eyes, like his case.

« Feeling nervous? » Patton was leading him toward their designated spot, he had previously offered his arm to Roman after showing off his sky-blue outfit.

« Kind of. Don't wanna mess up. But also what if they're not here? » Roman was already pulling at the hem of his sleeve.

« I'm sure they are. Normally binary systems are put together. I'll help you search! » Patton gave a warming smile that ushered the other not to worry too much.

« Should I go find a dance partner? » there was literally no etiquette to follow until the two main protagonists arrived.

The nebula noticed the initial discomfort in him. « That, or you can stay with me for now. »

Roman was about to reply in gratitude when he saw everyone move to the centre of the room, where he got by taking Patton's hand.

Alright, here we go.

The first part of the dance had the stars already dancing around the room while waiting; none told Roman there would have been partner changes.

He and Patton had just turned, their backs facing, when suddenly his hand touched another one and there he was spinning slowly with a stranger.

Roman had a pair of purple irises fixed in his own, on a stoic face they were decorating, his head slightly tilted.

« Hi. » he had tried, but he only saw the star's eyes look down, ignoring his greeting.

That made Roman feel defeated, little did he know the stranger's goal was another and that he couldn't lose time on uneventful conversation.

One of each star's hand was intertwined with the others'.

Should have Roman been stoic as well? Could they talk during the event? Was he being judged by the other guy?

Still, after seemingly searching into Roman for some sort of hint, the other star kept looking behind his shoulders, especially on the front door, which was decorated with complicated bass-relief motives.

Was he more interested into the room's details than meeting new people?

Roman glanced around for clues and his eyes met smiling and chatting couples, giving him the impression that he had been doing something wrong.

Until he met Patton's look again and he noticed the signals he was giving him.

“It's him”, his lips mouthed and it finally hit Roman when Patton motioned towards the other with his eyes.

Roman blinked in bewilderment and turned back to his partner only to see him let go of his hand, his back already facing him, without a single chance for him to speak some last words.

His focus shifted again when a different light glowed into the room, he heard the door starting to open and everyone was pushed at both opposite sides of the room.

A path was now created, like a little temporary corridor.

Finally, from either door, two figures started walking down the path, making it very clear on their identity: the Sun and Moon had made their entrance.

Gold and silver shining like they were the only things in existence, the two met halfway and joined hands, making the whole audience restart their own dance.

Roman's companion had changed and it was now a lady part of a system, her name was Zeta, but he couldn't help but think back at how close he had been to his discovery.

Everytime he caught a glimpse of him, he lost it, happening so often that Roman had been closer to interact with the Moon instead.

Patton had told him his name was Remy, while the Sun's was Emile and they were part of a particular solar system which contained planets such as Jupiter, Mars, or his favourite, Saturn.

He had also been told there were rumors behind the two's different clothing; Emile was rumored to wear gloves so he could protect others from his burning touch, while Remy was never seen without his sunglasses, probably because he would have gone severely injured if he had directly looked at the Sun.

Busying himself with the search for his system's second star, he almost didn't notice it when people started scattering and some went back to chatting.

Emile and Remy took off their masks alongside everyone and respectively put on glasses and sunglasses.

« Hey there! »

Roman turned. « Holy stars, Patton! I can't believe I almost had him. »

« Well, at least you know he's here now, right? » the nebula started looking around from his spot to search for Virgil again.

« Yeah, I hope it'll be easier to- »

« Found him. » Patton pointed at a few feet next to them, where their object of interest was sitting, attentively staring at something or someone.

Roman felt something in his chest click as soon as he was able to see his face clearly: he didn't know how to describe it, but he loved and absolutely loathed it at the same time.

He realized he had been holding his breath only after he deeply exhaled, making Patton raise an eyebrow.

« Are you going to say hello, or …? »

That was not ideal.

That was actually utterly terrible, how he felt drawn to the other and yet terrified at the same time, the intensity making it a seemingly impossible goal.

Despite the other being the infinitely smaller star, Roman was in awe, like he couldn't compare to him in any sort of way; the aura he gave off was too strong, so much that he seemed to know the secrets of the universe before anyone else.

Roman couldn't explain it, but he had to talk to him or else he would've probably combusted.

What had gotten into him? Did the realization of actually having the possibility of making friends with the other half of his binary system just hit him? … Would the other really agree to such a friendship?

He was afraid to answer that. They barely knew each other, anyway.

Roman started approaching him and felt his legs as heavy as lead, his tongue tied and all the conversations that he had prepared basically gone from his mind.

So many years of longing for this meeting only for it to go into shambles.

Yet, there he was, at last standing next to him.

« Greetings, the name's Roman. » he achieved a single apparently annoyed glance. He looked still … in search of something. « I was wondering whether you were the star entitled as Sirius B. »

Roman finally got a reaction out of him, a slick turn of the head in an impressed expression. « How would you know that? »

Roman grinned and moved one hand from behind his back. « Well, you see, » he started, theatrically bowing down just that necessary to still look him in the eyes. « It just so happens that I am Sirius A. »

✾✾✾✾

Janus was mimicking Roman's gesture as Remus watched in awe.

« Who knows what Virgil will say? »

« Hold it- What do you mean? » Remus sluggishly said with his cheek pressed against the pillow.

« I mean that it's late and you should rest before your little school trip, alright? »

The kid didn't look very convinced.

Janus tried again. « Also, I'm going to give you a mission for tomorrow. »

Remus's eyes lit up again. « What is it? »

« You're going to have to find the stars I've been telling you about. There's going to be a dark room full of projections; it's gonna be fun. »

His nephew let out a “Ooh” of understanding and admiration, already picturing what it could have looked like.

« Come on now, » Janus helped him set into bed and kissed his forehead, at which, like any other night, Remus commented with a “gross” and wiped at his skin.

It was their little routine before Janus himself started preparing for the night.

He was pacing around the living room when he could have sworn he had heard something moving right outside of his apartment's door; he stood there for a second, simply staring at the doorknob, expecting it to twist at any second.

Nothing came through and thus he went to sleep.

He really needed a relaxing bath first.

Janus knew something had been off as soon as he had woken up; the uneasiness from the night before still lingered, pressing down on his stomach.

He could not deal with this.

It was six a.m. again and he was staring at the cupboard in the bathroom.

No, it was fine. He was fine, he could do it on his own.

He breathed deeply and exited the room only to find a perky Remus already up and excited for his trip.

The kid smiled up at him. « Is breakfast ready yet? »

Janus forgot all about how he had woken up.

Merely an hour and a half later, Remus had been dropped off at the school bus after making sure he had everything he needed and that he was under the supervision of all the class' teachers.

He was still going up the stairs of the condominium, when he noticed a figure fidgeting and standing by his door.

Brown curls, green eyes and still impossibly gorgeous.

Janus's stomach did a triple flip and he didn't know if it was for delight or bitterness. Of course, his mind blanked as soon as Clyde acknowledged him.

« Hey, J. » the tone was unsure.

None had been allowed to call him that in years.

« It's been a while … »

« Indeed. » he responded sternly, almost petrified as he waited for the other to state the reason for his visit.

« Uhm, I … needed to get a thing I left here. »

« Here. »

« Yeah. »

Clyde was trying his best not to make everything awkward, but Janus was making it godawfully impossible.

The star didn't talk any further and simply turned the keys to unlock the door, stepping in and aside to let the other enter.

« Get what you need and leave. » he didn't make eye contact, or else he would have been fucked.

A distraction.

Janus went into the kitchen, busying himself with getting things ready for lunch, while Clyde headed for Remus's room; there was a photo album he needed to get after all, there was no way Remus would have wanted to keep pictures of a dad that had given up on him.

He picked up the album and turned the first couple of pages. Then more and more.

Remus had cut out Clyde's face from any picture in which he had appeared.

It was a hit to his heart, a well deserved one, but a hit nonetheless; he put the album back and headed for the door, but something pulled him back to Janus.

The star eyed him warily.

« Did you get it? »

« Not really, but- I figured it doesn't matter anymore. »

Janus made an uninterested noise without looking back up at him.

« If there's anything- »

« We don't need your help. »

Clyde's eyes fell to the floor, but he insisted and came closer to the other, standing at his side.

« I know it's kind of hypocritical but were you to find yourself in a difficult situation- »

« Hypocritical? » Janus scoffed, finally turning to him and glaring at him.

He wanted to drown.

« The only time my situation becomes difficult is when you are around. » he could feel his insides heating up.

« Listen I know you hate me now- »

Oh, was that guilt tripping? That was guilt tripping.

« That's the issue. Everytime I see you, I get reminded of the fact that I just … I don't actually hate you and it sucks, so please leave. » he felt like he was on the verge of either tears or a crisis out of exasperation.

« Janus … » Clyde dared to lift a hand as the other tried to focus back on cooking.

« Don't touch me. »

« Listen. » the man took Janus's wrist anyway with the sole purpose of trying to put some sense into him.

Janus tried to wiggle free from his grip. « I said- » until … « Ugh! » he did.

But his hand had jerked back right onto his cheek, causing the knife he was holding to leave a deep cut through his eye and cheek.

He dropped everything and held his head as a luminous substance flowed out of his cut.

Star's blood.

« Oh my- Oh god, I- »

« Get out! » he yelled one last time and could only hear Clyde's steps as he hurried away from him.

Now there was something interesting about stars: they had a really peculiar way of healing, so much that hospitals wouldn't understand their ways. So Janus ought to help himself.

He quickly washed the blood out of his hands and ran into his room before he could pass out, closed the windows and turned every light off.

By memory he found the little box he had hidden in the bedside table, a secret drawer.

He opened it and a blinding light illuminated the room. That was the light that belonged to him as a star; once you disguise yourself as a human you get to keep it in case of emergencies.

Janus felt heat coming back to his body and pain retreating from his brain.

When he closed it everything felt normal again, despite the tiredness from what had just happened.

Then he looked in the mirror.

A terrible scar ran from above his eyebrow, down his eye and onto his cheek, still so fresh and yet … It looked like a childhood one. And he could still perfectly see.

He didn't want to deal with that right then: he went back to work on his meal and decided on a relaxation day as he didn't have work and really needed a rest.

All he wanted to do was scream and probably cry, but he decided on staring at the ceiling from the living room's couch.

By the time he woke up, he had to go pick up Remus from the school trip, which now required him to put on concealer on his face.

His nephew didn't mention anything about it around others.

But he wasn't certainly stupid.

Once in the car, he spoke up. « What happened to your face? »

« Can't a man wear make-up? »

« Yes, but you've never done It before. And you're not in love so there's none to make yourself pretty for. »

« Ouch, now I'm not pretty? » Janus chuckled.

Remus pointed a finger at him. « You're insecure! »

When will children stop being so brutally honest?

Once home, Janus went straight for the bathroom to wipe the concealer away. « You see, little duke, » he called from there. « Sometimes you don't want to explain things. Sometimes you can't. » he then went back to him and showed his scar.

« What happened? »

« An accident. I recovered quickly with some remaining starry powers. »

The kid seemed to accept it, despite being skeptical.

« Can I get one too? I want to be like a dragon! »

« Dragons don't have scars, kid. » Janus tilted his head.

« They do! It's written in books, they have them all over their bodies. »

« Sweetie, those are scales. »

Remus considered for a second, his eyes fixated on a random spot.

« Uncle, I think my life is a lie. »

Janus finally laughed for real and they decided to leave the corridor for the more important conversation to happen in the living room; the kid started going on about the astronomy museum and all its wonders.

« And then there was that big constellations projector like you mentioned and it was beautiful. » Remus mimicked how he would've showed him in the room, as if the projections were in their apartment. « The scientist knew everything about them, he answered every question, uncle Jee I want to go back! »

Janus smiled the entire time, especially at how his nephew was now looking at him with literal sparkles in his eyes.

« Your birthday is around, isn't it? We could go back then. »

The kid started jumping around in excitement. « I want to visit everyday! I could sell lemonade like they do in cartoons and pay my ticket everyday! »

He giggled, while Remus kept coming up with different ways to assist himself. « I don't think that's likely, but we could visit often if that's what you'd like. »

« But Logan … » the other murmured sadly. « The star man ... »

Janus theatrically scoffed. « Excuse you, am I not enough of a star human myself? »

Remus stuck his tongue out at him and started running around the room only to flee from his uncle's vision in order for him to try and chase him; Janus sighed in a “not this again” manner and walked towards his general direction.

The scar had already been long forgotten.

✾✾✾✾

After days of non stop talking about that one astronomer and the museum, Remus's birthday finally came around.

It didn't seem such a peculiar or important day for that same one astronomer the kid kept talking about, the intelligent and cool one that he wanted to celebrate with.

Logan was walking up the stairs to the museum, his beloved workplace he wouldn't have traded for any kind of amount of gold.

Thankfully, its location had been accessible to a great number of tourists and curious citizens ever since it had been founded, so that every worker could be easily secured in their position.

He waved at his colleagues as he headed to his little office where he often stayed late to do research along side other devoted astronomers; his afternoon shift was about to start, right on time to run through a couple of papers of the previous night before meeting his first group of the day.

Being a tour guide around a museum whilst assisting in astronomy research all the while had its perks and downsides.

Mostly for Logan, it was his insatiable need to let every single thought that ran in his mind directly out for others to hear and obtain as information. It had always been hard as a teenager, especially during high-school.

It wasn't that he studied irregularly – well, maybe sometimes – but he, unlike the majority of his classmates, had to do extra work on training his speech method. The bits of info that stuck to his head while he studied were far too many and growing with each passing test, which made it harder to form connected sentences.

Talking was even worse than writing, he had no time to re-formulate what he had said a minute earlier, he couldn't go back to check what was his initial point, making his oral tests a complete mess.

Despite this, knowing what he wanted to do in his life in the long run, he kept practicing, finding great treasure in info-dumping people about his special interests.

Getting to discuss this kind of matter with university colleagues was a far better help than feeling like you were talking to a wall when your interlocutor kept nodding and smiling, clearly ignorant of whatever you were talking about.

It had also helped to understand how exactly you should modulate your speech depending on the audience, making it all a perfect experience for a soon-to-be guide.

Logan left the room and finally met his momentary students, ready to prepare their minds for the bliss of knowledge.

He briefly glanced through them, multiple people all different from one another, proving the world that education could be for anybody; he moved through different topics with ease, basically dancing between different rooms as he caught glimpses of other interested visitors, such as curious middle schoolers, or a man with bright yellow gloves talking softly to a small excited kid next to him.

It was his place, he felt at home, that strange and rare belonging sentiment.

The satisfaction of leaving the last group of people whose minds wandered in the deepest parts of space, now devoid of questions.

Who he didn't expect to still be wandering around the various exhibits hours after their entrance was that same man with yellow gloves and … supposedly his kid?

Logan leaned on the wall of the room's entrance, still out of sight, trying to catch what kind of conversation might have kept them around for so long.

Not much to his surprise, he heard the man talk of stars with an impressive accuracy, pointing up at the big white and blue projector.

It felt like he had met them personally and conversed with them.

He found himself smiling involuntary as he recognized his own enthusiasm in the boy.

And then …

« It's almost closing time, so, are you ready to hear what Virgil had to say? »

Remus's eyes lit up impossibly more and yelled a convinced “yeah!” before sitting on his uncle's lap and pointing up towards the binary-star Sirius.

« There. »

… he was brought elsewhere.

✾✾✾✾

Virgil always thought they'd have looked the same.

Either some sort of twins or really similar, differently aged bodies, something as weird as that.

Now a gleaming figure stood before him, completely different from how he had imagined him, so much that he almost distrusted that information.

« Patton told me about you. » Roman added later, as if he had just read his mind.

After the initial awkwardness, noticing the blunt disinterest, he tried again.

« So, what would be the name of my system companion? »

The other star raised an eyebrow at the unusual title and looked away before he could respond, making his answer muffled by the music echoing in the room.

« Virgil. »

« Well then, a pleasure being your friend then, Virgil. »

That finally got a reaction out of him, as the smaller star snorted sarcastically. « I don't really think meeting one time is what it takes to be someone's friend, Roman. »

He laughed lightly. « My apologies, I don't actually know how it works, » still with a smile on, he looked down. « I don't really have friends. »

And there it was, something Roman had never seen before, but that he could've caught on Patton's expression sometimes, briefly.

The pitiful glance he would've learnt to recognize.

« Oh. » was all Virgil mustered to say. He had never faced that kind of situation.

« It's the big and terrifying thing, or some envy of sorts, I'm not sure … But I still have Patton! » Roman concluded, bright as before. « And it's also why I've been eager to meet you since I got to know about you. »

Virgil tilted his head as he quickly glanced between him and the dancing couples.

« Did he tell you about me? »

« A little. He wanted it to be more of a surprise for both of us, he was as excited as I was! »

Unlike you, it seems.

Roman frowned and brushed off the clear indifference of the other, instead trying to find common ground.

« Would you like to dance? »

Virgil finally looked at him properly, but it was as though he was trying to make a tough choice, whether that was a useful option to his goal, the same way he did the first time they met. His hand moved and almost reached Roman's, but hesitation got the best of him, his eyebrows furrowed, arm almost shaking.

Roman didn't understand; what was the issue? They had danced earlier. What was so different about it now?

« I- »

They were interrupted by a swarm of people coming their way, clearing up a path for the Sun and Moon to return back to their respective places, outside of the palace.

Which meant it was time for everyone to part ways.

« … I will go. »

And just like that, he was gone.

Roman repeated the events in his mind once he got back, immediately requesting Patton's presence. Just what in the planets had he just witnessed? There was nothing of the sweetness he'd fantasized about, nothing about introducing each other like old friends, nothing of that electric buzz in your chest, the one that makes you so sure that you do belong exactly where you are.

All he felt was dread, awkwardness and uncomfortable silence, loss of words. Stupidity.

That's what he was, so ingenuous to think both of them would've been happy to find each other at last.

Had Virgil ever even cared about all of this? Did Roman simply impose his dreams on the other?

« So that I'm sure I did not hallucinate, » the star huffed, an arm over his eyes as he laid down. « I did meet him. »

« That you did. » Patton said, sounding more certain than Roman himself.

« And … »

« And? »

« It sucked. » he got up. « We barely even talked! My mind was racing and going blank from agitation and he didn't even try to interact with me, Patton. He obviously doesn't want to be my friend! He definitely thinks I'm annoying at this rate. »

« Hey there, little sparkle, slow down with the all too quick affirmations now. » Patton's form outside of the palace made him almost look like he had wings for arms. « You see, we're not all the same. You met me, and I'm very energetic and mostly aligning with your extravagant character- »

« You think I'm extravagant? » Roman let in some fake disbelief.

Patton chuckled. « In the best way possible! What I mean is, it's easy for us to get along, but Virgil is pretty much the opposite of you, which makes it a bit difficult to immediately get along. You only need to give it some more time. »

The binary-star did feel reassured with his words.

Not completely, though they made sense, yet there was always something in the back  of his mind that made him doubt those kind of words. The nebula could tell everytime Roman grimaced for seemingly no reason.

« Are you … » Roman calculated his words. Surely he didn't want to appear more doubtful than he was after his “defeat” at the ball earlier. « Are you sure it's not … »

« Roman, believe me, he'd be the last to care about the fact that you're … » he scrambled for examples. « A bigger star than the sun itself! Star systems share a deep intrinsic bond. Just go at his pace, he might only be distraught. »

« I heard someone talk about big stars. » a voice called over their shoulders. « So I couldn't help but stop by. »

A feminine body loomed before them, familiar almost spirited eyes checked Roman out from afar, until she was close enough to inspect both of them.

« Zeta. » Sirio-A called out unenthusiastically. « What brings you here? »

« Didn't see you dancing. Was wondering what kind of unforeseen event kept you from shining your true beauty upon those little kids. » they grinned. « But I see you're already hooked up. »

« Patton's always been a friend. » he replied in annoyance.

« I don't really do romances, thank you! » Patton offered right after with a bright smile.

« Oh. I apologize for assuming. » she said, before composing herself « Anyway,  I'd appreciate it if you came to chat with me and Canopus instead of running around in search of a random dude. »

Zeta Ophiuchi had always been … an eccentric type of star, basking under the knowledge that she, Roman and Canopus were the brightest ones of the night sky.

She managed to enthrall Canopus in her own thinking, since the latter showed a less strong character than her friend; Roman, though? He'd never really been eager to feed the fire of greatness.

He had come to terms with the fact that all those acts of superiority didn't matter, since nothing really changed in their hierarchy.

« Why do you guys insist on keeping your title as names instead of choosing your own? » he derailed from the conversation.

« A little nosy, aren't we today? »

« Says the one who barged in uninvited. »

Zeta chuckled. « Touché. » she sighed afterwards. « It's because we want to stay true to our origin, partly because it also gives you a grip on your essence, your reality. It's empowering, Sirius. » she put much more emphasis on Roman's title.

He hated it with a burning passion.

Zeta lowered down at his eye-level. « Don't you think? » he wanted to wipe her grin away with a single death glare.

Patton muttered a “not again” under his breath; that occasion happened at least once a month, Zeta would pick at Roman's most sensitive spots and try to get past the thick walls he placed between himself and his insecurities.

« Well it's been a nice sunset! Why don't we go before it gets too dangerous for you to stay away from Ophiuchus, Zeta? »

She stared intently at Roman for a while longer before turning to the nebula and offering a fake smile and a nod. « Of course, Seagull. »

He breathed deeply, then waved sadly at his friend as Zeta followed quickly behind.

Roman understood how she and Canopus had been admitted to the same group as his, yet at the same time he couldn't believe how he had to deal with Zeta's teasing even in the palace.

Working towards his goal was going to be harder than he thought.

✾✾✾✾

« Zeta's a bitch! » Remus abruptly commented, causing his uncle's sudden laughter. « I like her. »

Janus tried to gain his breath back. « Yeah- » he chuckled. « She's going to be rather interesting in the future. »

« Well that was quite the story. »

His eyes widened and he turned towards the entrance of the projector room: there stood a man, probably around his age, with the usual formal outfits and the museum worker plate stuck to his shirt.

« I'm so sorry I- »

« Logan! » Remus sprinted to his feet and ran up the stranger like he was an old relative he loved and hadn't seen in ages.

So that was who Remus would always mention.

Janus walked up to them, trying to hide the embarrassment behind a polite smile. « Come on duke, we should get going now. »

« But he's the star man! »

Star man? Logan thought, low-key impressed.

« There's no need to rush actually. We'll be closing the exhibit rooms in an hour, but most of us tend to stay the night. » he smiled back, then looked down at the young boy. « How do you know my name? »

« I came here two weeks ago! » Remus excitedly said. « With school! There were two of you, you were the cool one. »

Logan recalled a school class and a co-worker helping out with timing.

« We came back for my birthday, but I thought you weren't here today. Can we celebrate together now? »

Janus let out a laugh between exasperation and amusement, then looked up at the astronomer. « He's grown fond of you. » he tried to explain.

« I can see that. » Logan crouched down to converse with Remus easily. « What would you want me to do? »

Never before an occasion like that one had occurred to him, plus an offer to spend time with people with his same interests other than his colleagues, thus less programmed to spit out information in any given situation, would have definitely been a breath of fresh air.

« Let's get ice cream. » Remus turned to his uncle. « Can we? »

Janus nodded. « If Logan is able to, I don't see why not. »

And Logan could afford leaving early every once in a while, so …

« Alright then, » he stepped aside from the entrance to let them exit. « I will let them know I'll be going out. » he pointed towards the offices and left.

About half an hour later, Remus was walking around the park, doing his best not to make the ice cream fall from his cone as he inspected all the bugs and insects he could find.

« I hope we're not wasting precious time. » Janus was walking alongside Logan not too far behind from Remus.

« Not at all. I have been actually told I could have used some free time every now and then. »

« Ah, are you the stay-in-late type? »

Logan moved his head from side to side in half agreement. « Sort of. It is mostly part of our job to carry on with research. You could say my work could be divided into day and night jobs. I do not mind it a single bit, to be fair. »

« Oh! » the star stopped dead in his tracks, realization hitting him, while the astronomer looked back at him, blinking in confusion. « How rude of me. » he extended his arm to the other. « My name is Janus Hydra. »

Logan gladly shook it. « Pleasure to be here then, Janus. »

The star smiled, then they went back to walking. « And the one who's trying to catch a butterfly is my nephew Remus. » he giggled as he watched the kid almost stick his cone into a tree.

« It was very thoughtful of you to bring him to the museum for his birthday. »

« Yes, well, he wouldn't stop mentioning it day and night. It would've been rude of me not to do so. »

Logan caught an odd detail in that sentence. « You live with him? » he asked, trying to be as cautious and considerate as possible.

Janus nodded and, for the first time, he wasn't asked why. He was silently grateful for, objectively, a stranger not trying to peer into his personal life as much as others would do.

« So, what about you? I haven't seen you around my workplace, yet you seem to be knowledgeable about stars. » he thought back at the moments in which he pointed up at the constellations with impeccable precision. « Is it a simple personal passion? »

« You could say that. It's something like a family thing. As you may have noticed, my surname comes from a constellation, by which I could deduce that probably one of my ancestors decided it was going to be our legacy. »

Logan could … honestly see that.

« Very peculiar. I can imagine the- »

« L, look! » Remus ran up to them with a butterfly in his hand. « Which one is this? »

Logan cupped one hand under his. « I suggest not to take it by the wings, » with the other, he instructed Remus to drop it gently on his palm. « Touching them damages them as it removes the material on them which permits butterflies to distinguish and disguise themselves. Furthermore, your risk to damage or even completely break the wings. They're pretty fragile. » the little insect walked up to his fingertip. « Here. » he offered as he gestured for Remus to carefully let the butterfly walk on from Logan's to his hand.

« This one is a Morpho Menelaus, also known as blue morpho. »

« I read they can drink from puddles. » the kid said as he lowered the insect next to one on the ground.

« That's true, they have a varied diet. Did you know some can drink blood as well? »

Remus jumped to his feet, a wide grin on his face. « They can?! »

Logan made a diverted expression at the difference between Remus's reaction and Janus's unpleasant disbelief.

« There's a moth species in Asia with this ability, if it pleases the butterfly of course, it's rare but not undone. »

Time seemed to dilate as Remus kept asking for more facts to the “cool man who seemed to know everything”, the small talk between the latter and Janus to slowly get to know each other more and the general pleasant aura made them forget it was almost time for dinner.

« Wait. » Remus, once again, caught everyone's attention. « What about my birthday gift from Logan? »

Janus wanted to intervene, but Logan seemed way ahead of him already.

« How inconsiderate of me, you are absolutely correct, I should have prepared for this important event. » he pretended to think about it. « How about you can come to the museum whenever you want without the need of a ticket? »

Remus beamed, that was the best t-

« No. »

And his heart skipped a beat for a moment. He turned to look at his uncle with disappointment, but Janus's glance was fixed on Logan's.

« I refuse to not support your job. We will pay, like any other visitor. »

« Let's make a deal, then. You can come whenever you'd like and stay later than closing time, while I get to hear the story you were telling earlier as well. »

That was entirely unexpected. What was so charming about events he had witnessed? It didn't sit completely right with him, but who was he to deny saving money for the sake of his nephew's happiness?

Janus looked down at Remus who had assumed the “cat with the boots” adorable pleading face.

« Alright, you win this one, but I still owe you. » he warned Logan.

« Completely fine with me. »

« Are you sure it's okay to do, still? »

The astronomer had no doubts. « I will find a way, no need to worry. I'll be expecting you two tomorrow? » he asked, tilting his head almost imperceptibly to the side.

The other two agreed to come say hi after Remus had been done with school and thus they parted ways.

As Janus drove home, he realized he hadn't felt the all too familiar dawning of anguish a single moment of the day.

Was that going to be the eagerly awaited turning point?

Ever since they started visiting the museum, Remus and Janus took their time to explore every room and all the documents the exhibit had to offer, which made it really effective to tire Remus out in anticipation of bedtime.

Thus, the storytelling would often get postponed, especially since they wanted Logan to also be present, though he had to run important experiments during the first few weeks. They so decided to change it from a bedtime story to “their thing”, under the faint light of a constellations projector.

A month had now passed since their first encounter, and they finally managed to all sit down together in the almost dark room.

« Here's an apology gift. » Logan pushed a box in front of Remus who immediately wrapped off the paper encasing it.

« Apology for what exactly? » Janus asked with an eyebrow raised. « You're already letting us stay here for free. » it had become like a second home at that point.

« I know, but I have been around very briefly and I had to sneak you in late to cut out some time for you. »

« We aren't expecting you to be here every single time, Logan, you work here … »

« And you're also forgiven! » Remus exclaimed showing the little glow-in-the-dark stars stickers he already couldn't wait to put up in his room.

Janus chuckled under his breath. « You still didn't have to. » he made himself comfortable against the room's wall.

« If everyone's ready, I shall begin. »

✾✾✾✾

Roman felt like Virgil had been missing for most of the sunset dances.

He hadn't caught a glimpse of him in weeks, he felt as if he had been playing hide and seek all this time; Patton told him not coming wasn't possible, like stars were literally just teleported fully dressed to the ballroom the second it begun.

He had also been pretty busy avoiding Zeta and Canopus – not that the latter was any threat to him, actually she would've been easily persuaded to not tell on his location – that time ran out before he could meet up with Virgil.

All hope had been lost as he laid against a column and turned away from the dancing couples.

And he saw Virgil, a few meters away, sitting on a marble sort of parapet like he was ready to jump on his feet and leave. He was surrounded by a lack of other stars.

« Hey there. » Roman waved from his spot and his system's partner turned to him with the quickest neck movement he'd ever seen.

He looked as tired as someone who'd been dancing around all night.

… trying to … avoid someone …

Okay, they were both tired as hell.

Virgil gave the most effortless wave he could muster.

« Haven't seen you lately. » Roman pointed out. « Still, would you sit down with me? I don't think I can handle standing a minute longer. »

« I concur. » Virgil responded, grateful.

They slid down to the floor in almost perfect synchrony, simply watching what was going on before them: Roman was able to catch Patton's eyes and smile at him.

« Remember when you said I'm not a good judge of what is and isn't a friendship? »

« Didn't phrase it like that, but sure. »

« Does someone who's constantly bothering you and generally poke at your limits seem like a friend? »

Virgil took a silent but deeper look at the other and noted in his mind how exasperated he sounded.

« That sounds more like someone's been annoying you non-stop. That's … not exactly friendship either. »

Roman sighed, trying not to spiral into hysteria by the end of the night; he could hear Zeta's imposing voice in every corner he tried to escape.

How to break into silence?

« What do you think about going to the balcony? »

Virgil didn't hate the idea, but worry got the best of him. « Isn't that section of the palace reserved to the Sun and Moon only? »

His acquaintance displayed a mischievous smile. « Not if we get back before anyone notices. » he pulled himself to his feet, offering his hand to the other confidently.

Virgil couldn't help but take it and venture into unexplored areas; the hallways decorations were pretty much the same, if not less sumptuous, of the ballroom. He watched as Roman pushed glass doors open and revealed a terrace with a view of the Earth's sunrise on the sky above them.

They must have been on the Sun's wing. He felt suddenly more agitated about his presence there.

« Finally, » Roman took large steps to the parapet and leaned on it, closing his eyes to the gentle breeze caressing his hair. « A moment of silence. »

Virgil mimicked him. « I hadn't felt this peaceful nothingness in a long while. »

The other opened one eye to give him a sideways look. « You have visitors? »

« People have been fussing over me for some reason ever since we made our debut here. »

That explained the ever tired look, the staying behind as stars danced and had fun, and especially the unwanted attention.

« They say they find me cute or whatever, only because I'm the smaller star in the binary system. It's … really annoying. Kind of offensive, if I can say. »

« Here we are, » Roman chuckled to himself. « Both socially exhausted because everybody's patronizing you, while I'm being picked at constantly. »

« It's our system's fatal flaw. » Virgil confessed dramatically, which made the other snort, surprised by the sudden burst of confidence with joking around him.

They spent some more minutes in silence, the music from the ballroom was barely audible, like they were slowly being taken away.

Neither of their situations were desirable, but Roman really could've used some positive attention every once in a while, instead of laying in the dreadful awaiting of being ridiculed, as whoever else passed by him tried not to make eye contact.

He didn't realize he had progressively lowered his head to rest on the parapet's rail, his eyes half-lidded. He dared to take a quick glance at Virgil, standing tall as he observed the morning sky: every movement of his purple irises looked like a stroke of a brush on an expensive painting.

There, he looked much bigger than the universe they were in, some sort of irony against his usual small perception, which caused other stars to nickname him as “the pup”.

Roman's face portrayed an amused smile as he imagined Virgil being one of Earth's small dogs he had been told about.

It quickly faltered though, as soon as he shook the thought away, the sorrowful reality of his loneliness hit him and he couldn't stop himself from murmuring his belief to the sunrise.

« I really have only one friend, huh? »

The quiet around made it possible for Virgil to hear clearly, so he turned and looked at him from above, pondering whether or not it was appropriate of him to console Roman in some way.

At the end of the day, they really were alike, as distinct as they still could appear.

« You can have me? Two isn't much higher than one, but it isn't as bad. »

Roman averted the sky to disperse his bewilderment directly into Virgil's eyes, all fluttery eyelids and raised eyebrows.

« That would be so much better. » Virgil was glad to be the cause of his smile for once. « Thank you, Virgil. »

« You can call me Virge. »

Roman started cooing mockingly. « Aw, you're opening up to me. »

« And already regretting it, thank you very much. »

The other genuinely laughed and his expression softened, letting silence set one more veil above them.

« I wish I could visit you. » Roman then said after admiring the landscape. « We'd make sleepovers along with Patton- »

« Stars don't sleep. »

Oh, damn it. They had gotten so lost in their conversation that they hadn't noticed the music fading out completely.

As they turned, they noticed Emile at the entrance of the terrace, a warm expression set on his face, some sort of understanding as he had his arms folded over himself and sparkles of light all around.

He wasn't hostile, yet he knew they didn't belong there. Still, he wasn't one to reprimand.

« You should hurry back, friends. » he suggested, leaving one of the two doors free for them to pass through.

The two quickly made their way towards the hallway, but for Virgil it felt like an eternity: the moment he locked eyes with the Sun, it was as though his body refused to acknowledge its own movements. He didn't realize Roman had been tugging him by the sleeve as Virgil walked right past Emile, never leaving his glance.

Roman turned back to him as they half-ran towards the ballroom, noticing Virgil still hadn't turned his head from the balcony's entrance.

« Are you alright? »

« Huh? » Virgil quickly moved to look forward and find Roman's curious face.

The bigger star noticed the glimmering lights on his cheeks: a common feature which meant a star was happy or feeling intense emotions.

He saw Roman furrow his eyes, like he was trying to connect the dots, but rapidly ignoring it as they had made their way through the ballroom.

This time, Roman had a different tale to tell Patton.

✾✾✾✾

« So- uh? »

As Janus had been stroking Remus's hair absentmindedly, he hadn't realized the kid's breath had been slowing down to an evenly repeated movement: as he looked down, he saw his nephew biting through his glove in his sleep.

« It really sounds like an effective bedtime story. » Logan commented as Janus carefully placed Remus's head on his shoulder. He helped him stand up without losing balance and they quietly made their way towards the exit and, subsequently, Janus's car as, like Logan said, “it was the least he could do for them that night”.

« Are you going to go back in? » Janus whispered as he kept an eye on the backseat of his car.

Logan checked his watch, noticing time had flown by rather quickly, no wonder the kid had already fallen asleep. « I think so, yes. »

« Okay. » the other nodded. « Don't stay too late, Remus is not the only one who needs sleep. »

« I am fully aware of what a healthy circadian rhythm consists of. » he threw in a slight, non-harmful piece of sarcasm in his voice.

« Oh, I know you do. I was just making sure you knew you aren't elected to ignore it either way. »

Logan was delighted by the atmosphere: it was always pleasant to realize the exact moment in which you got closer to someone, the caring feeling hidden under friendly banter.

He was glad someone was looking out for him in that way.

« I'll theorize about what's going to happen next in your tale to help myself, then. »

« Hey, » Janus pointed towards him. « Don't you dare use that excuse to stay up later, though. »

« Will not do. » Logan chuckled. « Seriously, though, you needn't worry. »

« Fine. » he said, realizing that maybe his “mother-hen” senses had been activated the moment his nephew had fallen asleep.

He looked back at his little duke, and took a step backward, moving to his car.

« Well- »

Janus raised his arm to wave, but was interrupted by his friend's sudden words.

« I was thinking, » Logan was tapping his fingertips together before stopping altogether and making eye contact, like he had forgotten what he was doing. « If you'd like to and if you have time, we could hang out? It doesn't always have to be my workplace, or be a rushed thing. »

« That would be lovely! I can't really leave Remus alone nowadays and I always work when he's at school, as I imagine you do as well, but you could definitely come visit when you're off. »

Both of them were thrilled of the thought of spending quality time with each other for once.

« Oh, right. I could pick you up from work and you could have dinner with us! »

« Sounds excellent. » Logan moved slightly and a speck of street light hit part of his face, lighting up one of his eyes.

It was there that it was clear how the dark of the night made everything seem more mysterious and grim.

They waved each other goodbye, deciding to agree upon the day of their meeting via text.

Janus heard Remus shuffle in his seat, he was gripping tightly at the door's handle.

The moment he looked back ahead of himself he noticed an unusual glimmering under his eyes: he quickly checked on the rear-view mirror, finding the same sparkles he had described in his story.

He in-took a deep breath and braced himself for whatever was going to come in the future, while all he could think about were sharp looks and a poised personality.

That sure as the sky was going to be interesting to witness.

For example, it was deeply interesting when he received a call from Logan, the latter insisting he couldn't be able to sleep; the sound of the phone ringing had also woken Remus up, whom unceremoniously plopped onto his uncle's bed right beside him as soon as he heard Logan's voice.

Now he had two restless kids to put to sleep.

« This isn't an excuse for both of you to stay up later is it? »

« I wanted to talk to Logan too! »

« And I forgot to get melatonin on my way to work. »

After arguing to get him to make a physical note to leave on his table for the morning after, Janus allowed the man to stay on the line and Remus to get comfortable under the covers, while only the bedside table lamp was on.

✾✾✾✾

The terrace scene had replayed in Virgil's head for weeks.

Ever since the start, his goal had been the one to be able to reach the Sun, the one childhood hero he had grown to love, now he had him at his fingertips and yet, he was still so distant.

He danced with strangers to gain courage to get as close as possible to him, but he couldn't find it to touch his hand, let alone when he had to speak a single word to him.

The Sun seemed kind-hearted, he was for sure as well, he knew he wouldn't have been the target of insults for his deep admiration.

Despite all of this, he was still scared.

He was going to explode if he didn't speak up about it anytime soon.

« Are you alright? »

That question again, while the same thoughts circled in his mind, ones he couldn't keep in anymore.

« I think I'm in love with him. »

Roman battered his eyes. He had been spending most of the dance time with him, venting to each other about whoever came to visit or simply relaxing in the quietest spot they were allowed to reach.

They hadn't danced together once yet.

« Care to explain further? »

How could he when he couldn't even say his name?

« The sun. » Virgil hardly let out any voice. « I just- » he felt all the tension wash away as he looked into Roman's red irises, willing to gather more knowledge on the situation. « I'm happy to come here only because I have a chance to see him, but every single time someone else sweeps him away before I can even reach him. »

That would've been Remy, Roman thought.

« And even if I had the opportunity … I couldn't take it. It's stronger than me and it's eating me alive at the same time. » his breath was heavy with emotion.

Roman made space to a new feeling as well. There was only one way he could explain it.

Daggers.

Daggers piercing through your chest and stomach, multiple of them slowly and attentively burning holes in every vital organ, becoming sharper the longer Roman breathed through it.

It was because of empathy, right? He felt awful for Virgil's incapacity to interacting with the one he loved.

So why would the thought of helping him deepen the sharpness of those knives?

« I just … need to at least talk about it with someone. I only ever really have this opportunity with you and then again, staying alone with my thoughts- »

« It makes you want to scream. »

Roman wanted to yell the pain away.

« Like your organs are contorting … »

And twisting and looking for a way out of your body.

« … And your heart is in your throat, trying its best to escape. »

Virgil nodded, an aching expression displayed on his face.

« Why don't you just go? Next time, you just throw yourself in. Be yourself. It's always what they tell you to do. Let it happen, be natural and respect his boundaries. A path will slowly be open to you. »

What was he doing?

Virgil let the information sink in and, slowly, that pained face transformed into a warm smile.

That. That's what I'm doing. That's what I always want to do.

It was also how they tended to spend the sunset and sunrise dances ever since; Roman would sit down with Virgil in the corner and psych him up for him to be able to, eventually, open up to the opportunity of meeting Emile for real.

And, at the same time, he watched himself struggle and fall down, masking himself for the sake of the other.

On a particular night, he was walking away from the room alone, a myriad of thoughts surrounding his mind.

He didn't even have what he wanted.

« No, I do. » he retorted to himself, stopping dead in his tracks.

Virgil was his friend, that's all he had ever wanted ever since he found out about his existence, so why was it just not enough yet? Why was it so doleful, the idea of the friend he craved being so happy with someone else?

Why couldn't it just admit his emotions to himself? Why was there always a wall between him and how he felt?

« Would you please like to get moving? » he felt a hand push him from his back and the sight of Zeta and Canopus at her side obscured his mind from whatever he was thinking.

He didn't react much other than get to walking again, everything would've been fine, to some extent, if he didn't hear her whisper to her friend about how she was going to stop at Sirius's star before.

Anxiety surged in his stomach, up to his stomach, pumping his heart more than needed.

« You've been distraught. » she announced as they landed on his star. « What's up? »

« You think I'd tell you? »

« Why do you have anyone else to say that to? »

Roman looked down: as much as he hated to admit it, she was right.

« That still doesn't mean I suddenly want to open up to you. »

« Sirius, come on, you think you'll ever get the chance to do so with that little kid? »

« His name is Virgil. » he growled.

She tilted her head, mouth open. « Protective aren't we? » he clicked her tongue three times. « Not good, Sirius, not good. As I was saying, you'll never have the chance to talk with anyone but me and Canopus. »

Shut up.

« Patton won't be able to be here for you forever. »

Shut up.

« And everybody knows how Sirius B's star is slowly dying- »

« Can you stop for once in your life?! »

Zeta watched as Roman put his hands on his ears, eyes wide with panic, his entire body was trembling as he sat down, his sadness finally hitting him. Tears welled in his ruby eyes as too many concerns formed inside him.

« Don't talk about him. » he managed to say through the sobs. « Don't mention him, in any way, I don't want you to even think about him. »

Zeta arched an eyebrow and stepped closer, offended by the sudden burst. « You really need to own up to your true title and stop hanging around the pathetic ones. »

She walked away from him, until yelling took her by surprise.

« I love him! » Roman admitted, pulling his arms away from his eyes, his face reddened and wet with sorrow. « Are you happy?! I love him and he definitely doesn't. »

He looked down and all he saw was opaque misery.

« Well of course he doesn't. » she spat, turning back to give him one last disgusted glance. « Look at yourself. »

The last dagger.

Roman collapsed and let out all his anguish.

Yet again, he was going to find himself left behind, alone in his shuddersome melancholy.

And no one else had to know.

✾✾✾✾

There was a beat of silence.

« Uncle, how am I going to sleep after all of that? »

Janus grinned mischievously. « I like to torture my readers. » then he picked up the phone again and whispered. « But listen. »

Nothing more than a slow breathing came from the other end.

« Want to say goodnight? »

Remus nodded vigorously. « Night Lol! » he then watched as Janus hung up. « Is Roman going to be okay? »

Janus shrugged. « Maybe. »

« I'm going to kick you off the bed. »

« I'd tease you more but I recognize you're actually able to do that. »

« Good. » Remus smiled and eventually tucked himself further in bed, ready for a good night's sleep. And maybe some chaos in the middle of it, but it wasn't like his uncle had to know.

On a fortunate weekend, Janus and Remus were finally driving back to their apartment with a new component of their little group. Logan was contentedly sitting in the passenger seat, ready for another one of the peculiar nights around who became in no time two of his favorite people.

As he made his way through the porch, he noticed how Remus had wanted to stick the glow-in-the-dark stars on every single apartment wall. In fact, he had told the astronomer how sometimes he would convince his uncle to have a sleepover in different rooms.

« Imagine sleeping in the kitchen and waking up to breakfast ready! »

« That literally already happens, I always cook you something before you wake up. And don't think I don't notice those midnight snacks. »

The dinner went by nicely, Logan had settled in quickly, like he had always belonged there: he helped with food and to hinder Remus whenever it was extremely needed, or at least keep him company while he played as Janus was busy in the kitchen.

Having Logan around felt like the most normal thing ever and Janus was grateful to have a friendship like his.

Before he knew it, the sparkles were back. He fought them away as he called the other two, trying to keep himself through the entire meal, but it was absolutely impossible as he kept laughing and smiling thanks to someone so dashingly-

Hold up. Back on track.

You're supposed to fight it back, not welcome it, you dumbass.

Remus lost interest in the TV show he was following and left the room to go play with his toys once he had finished eating, taking some ice cream with him.

In the middle of a conversation, Janus absentmindedly rubbed at his cheek, not noticing he had taken off some of the makeup he meticulously had put on before he left home.

Someone else noticed, of course.

« Oh- You have- Hang on. » Logan bent over the table, thinking an eyelash had fallen on Janus's cheek, though when he noticed it didn't fall off, rather it expanded, he arched his eyebrows and sat back, looking at the makeup residue on his fingertips.

Janus's heart had skipped multiple beats since then. What was he supposed to say now?

« I would never pry, but, is everything alright? »

Seeing the genuine concern and care behind Logan's glasses, he convinced himself it was time for him to learn the story behind him.

Not every single detail … as he would've never believed him.

« It's … kind of a long story. » he began, folding his hands together on the table. « Remus's mother, she was my sister. She had married this man, Clyde Davis. »

« The therapist? »

« You know him? » the world surely was very little.

« Not personally. » his doctor had suggested him as he was also a psychiatrist, to help with his sleep issues.

« Well, they were together for a few years, then they had Remus and everything was going splendidly. » his glance moved from his hands to Remus playing in the other room. « Until my sister fell ill. It didn't take too long for it to consume her … I was already staying by their side pretty much daily, supporting them. » he sighed deeply and passed a hand on his face. « When she passed away, it also didn't take long before Clyde decided to start a new life … without Remus. »

« He … passed him onto you? Just like that? » Logan was bewildered negatively.

« Yes. He said we reminded him too much of her and he couldn't stay in that kind of environment anymore. »

« I understand the decision, but, and pardon my french, that is what they call a “dick move”. »

Janus couldn't help but giggle at that. « Yeah, I can't believe I used to be in love with him. »

Wait.

Wait.

Earthlings, Janus, you fool!

That was it, he ruined automatically whatever he had created with Logan with a single sentence because he forgot the humans' moral compass.

Right before he could spiral, he felt a hand on his and, when he looked up, he saw his friend's reassuring expression.

« It's okay. Sometimes we love people who hurt us, it can happen and we cannot control what our heart dictates. »

Janus blinked multiple times, then couldn't bare his stare anymore and looked down again. Then at their joined hands.

He took another breath. « Remus and I were perfectly fine by ourselves, dare I say Remus's presence lit up my days more than I did his. Then one day he appeared on my doorstep and it took all I had in myself to not slam the door right on his face. He insisted he had left something behind and decided to retrieve it after two years. Needless to say … he made me very upset. »

He scrunched his face for a second.

« I had a knife in my hand … and, well, I accidentally injured myself while trying to prove a point. » he wiped further at his cheek and part of his eyebrow and forehead. « Thankfully it wasn't as deep as it seemed. »

« I'm really sorry all of that happened. » Logan grimaced. « I would gladly teach him a lesson if he ever comes in my sight. »

Janus snorted. « Will you tell him about Runaway stars? »

« I hate and love that sentence at the same time, but as much as it would be the most intently ironic topic ever, I do have mediocre experience in explaining about how to raise a child in an healthy environment. »

He nodded. « Yes, that would be an incredibly helpful topic. »

« For future reference, of course. »

« Ah yes, not like he ever needed that in the past. » Janus had waited for this kind of conversation to happen with someone for ages.

« I'm glad you told me when you didn't have to. » Logan eventually confessed. « I imagined something like this had happened, but I preferred you were the one to brush the subject first. »

Janus had always been grateful for that. « You're the first and only one so far. » they both smiled at that. « But yes, I just didn't want you to worry about this. » he said, pointing to his scar.

Logan didn't exactly control his next words. « Not that I can not worry for you nonetheless. »

No, don't do that to me.

« Sometimes it's like … I wished I could stay longer. I suppose it has to do with the fact that I like being around to help the two of you, be it with chores or having fun. Instead I keep rushing back and forth from home to work lately. »

Janus bit the inside of his cheek. « You're always welcome here if you want to distract yourself. Just be sure to take care properly. »

« I know I should. I never seem to have enough time in a day. »

« Then let us. » Janus started grinning and laid back against his seat. « Remus makes a killer combination of ice cream and we know all the best TV shows, I'm fairly sure you have a similar taste to mine. Oh my, I can't imagine you with a face mask- »

« Please spare me. » Logan pretended to be scared for his life as the other couldn't contain his laughter anymore.

« It's too late. The plan is already in motion. »

Their conversation derailed until wine settled in to make everything more light hearted.

Remus ventured in the room around 10, announcing he was tired by letting half of his body rest on top of his uncle's legs. He carried him towards his bed and, that time, both Logan and Janus had sat down next to him for the night's storytelling.

✾✾✾✾

« Gosh, this really is harder than it originally sounded like. » Patton had been rubbing Roman's back for the past minutes as he had lost all the energy to dance after the previous week's realization.

Dare he say, he was actually trying to avoid Virgil in any kind of way. His absence would've probably helped him far more to finally approach Emile, anyway. He was just helping him further, wasn't he?

« I feel awful. » the nebula admitted, a sour taste in his mouth. « One-sided feelings are difficult to accept, though not impossible to overcome. It may sound stupid, but you'll feel better with time, Ro. I assure you. »

« You're right, it sounds stupid. » he had never heard his voice so low.

Patton smiled sadly. « I know. But I do feel like, instead of inconveniencing yourself further, you should spend as much time as you are allowed to with him. » he looked back at him. «  And none says Emile automatically reciprocates. »

« Don't get my hopes up. »

« I was just saying. » Patton used his sing-song voice, the one that never failed to make Roman smile. « Either way, I'll always be here to be your moral support. »

« Believe me, you'll also always be a far better moral support than Zeta. »

« She isn't the best in that department. »

Both Patton and Roman looked up and the latter found Canopus sitting next to him.

« She thinks she looks out for people. She has good intentions, but she's still a little confused on her methods. » it was usual of her to defend Zeta, but Roman was glad she shared nothing of Ophiuchus' star's attitude.

« I think she should understand not every single one of us is under her supervision. »

Canopus nodded, lying against the column which was lining up perfectly with her back.

« Why has she left you alone? » Roman didn't mind her, she was actually one of the kindest stars he knew, but seeing her by herself made him skeptical.

« Did she hurt you? We would stand by your side in case! »

Canopus giggled and put up her hands. « It's okay. No, she's … talking to someone. » she pointed to Roman. « Your co-star? Virgil? »

That was the last straw-

« Don't you dare. » Patton pulled Roman back down on his seat, though the other was fuming with rage already. « Canopus, dear, why would Zeta converse with Virgil without you? »

« She said she needs to ask him a question. A rather personal question, something she didn't want me to know, I guess. » she looked into Roman's eyes with determination. « She vowed to never lie to me many, many years back. I'm sure she isn't saying anything about you. You know how she's all for honor, I don't think she would tell on you like that. »

As much as Zeta's ways had always been pretty drastic, Roman believed her, though the curiosity of what she might have been asking was eating him away.

More than being curious, for Virgil the experience was dreadful.

You suddenly saw one of the biggest stars in the room come up to you and ask about your feelings, like everyone in the room could've read you easily.

« This is going to sound weird. » she declared as she took Virgil's hand when they exchanged dancing partners. « But I need to know this out of you. Do you by any chance nurture any kind of romantic feelings towards Sirius A? »

Virgil felt dumbfounded. « No. » he quickly said, quicker than needed. « I do not. » he added, trying to mimic her poised nature.

« So, if there ever was another potential lover, you'd think the path would be clear for them? »

Was that hope in her voice? The tiniest tremble in a heated room.

« I definitely think so. » she glanced back in a direction unknown to Virgil.

« Thank you. » she whispered before disappearing back in the crowd; he stepped away from it, finding easily Emile's bright figure dancing and smiling like it was the first time with some stars unknown to him.

« Isn't he beautiful? »

Damn. That really was the richest night he had, huh?

Right next to him stood the Moon themselves; Remy was holding their glasses, letting their gleaming silver eyes rest for a while.

« Truly. » he agreed, letting the softness take him away.

« I couldn't ask for a more amazing dance partner every night. » Virgil wished he could share a piece of their happiness.

« I can only imagine. » he looked down, gaze fixed onto the Sun.

Remy titled their head. « You haven't danced with him yet? »

Virgil shook his head no and bite his lip. He so wished to do so.

« Then fear not, sweetie, I got your back. » they put back their sunglasses and carefully led Virgil to dance in swirls around the room, so that his next partner would have been Emile for sure.

« It's an experience to try. He's like, the most magnificent star I've ever met. »

« I know. » Virgil's tone was now more dreamy. « I've seen him everyday in front of me, I've been hoping to interact with him ever since I was little. »

« That sounds adorable, darling. Your wish is my command, humans use to wish upon stars, but it's truly only the Moon that hears them and guides them through their path. »

Remy noticed they were close to the partner change.

« One last question. What's your title? »

« Sirius B. I'm part of a binary star-system. » Virgil felt Remy's grip loosen on his hand and, slowly, he was let to someone else.

« Good luck, Virgil. »

Remy's nod was the last thing he saw before turning and finding Emile smiling down at him.

As for the Moon, he found himself dancing with Patton. « Ah! My favorite Nebula! »

« Hello Remy. » Patton giggled at Remy's extra antics. « I see you were talking to Virgil. »

« Yeah, the guy was totally scared. Like, girl, I know I'm a big deal, but you're starting to make me feel like royalty, that's going to feed my ego. » they let out a laugh, but composed themselves rather rapidly. « Say, he told me something that kind of left me perplexed. »

Oh, no.

Patton feared Virgil had disclosed his feelings, but he was pretty sure he wouldn't have been so ingenuous to reveal them to the Moon, of all presents.

« He seemed to express deep admiration for Emile. » was it really what he was thinking? « But he said he's in front of him? Like a childhood kind of admiration, you know? Someone you look up to ever since you're born. Weird, because last time I checked, Sirius B is in front of Sirius A. »

« Hold on. » Patton's eyes widened and the couple stopped in the middle of the room. « Are you telling me he hasn't been praising the Sun just because of all the stories about him, but because he has mistaken it for Roman? »

« Seems so. I wanted to let you know, in case there had been a misunderstanding. »

« Oh my gosh, Remy! » Patton pulled both of them out of the crowd. « That is fantastic news! »

« It is? Did I do a good job? Have I earned a gold star? » Remy smirked as the nebula laughed his heart out between his excitement and the pun.

They reached Roman in no time, who had decided to sit by himself during the entire night.

« You're not going to believe this, Ro! »

Patton took Roman's hands in his and smiled brightly as he narrated everything that had just happened with Remy's assistance when it came to what exactly happened between him and Virgil.

Despite now realizing that Virgil's feelings should have been directed at him, Roman's expression didn't differ.

« You do know that changes nothing, right? »

Patton's face fell. « Wh- »

« Pat, listen. Even if he'd mistaken his feelings for the wrong person, Virgil has still developed feelings for Emile, not for me. He isn't going to direct them towards me only because of a tiny mistake, it isn't how they work. »

Remy leaned over Patton. « Uh, I'm going to let you guys work this out, not because I'm jealous or whatever, promise. I don't wanna intrude. Hope you figure it out. » then they spared one last look for Roman. « But dude, why not tell him? He's still your friend, and he has only just met Emile, after feeding off of a false image of him. » then, the Moon shrugged. « But you do you, sir. Have a nice rest of the night. » with that, they disappeared.

« I won't force you, Ro. But do know that I support you. »

Roman didn't feel like having the same sharp daggers through his stomach again, yet a huge part of him was pulling him to his feet. With no other word, he let himself between the dancing couples.

And, of course, in no time he clasped hands with Zeta.

« Here for another lecture? »

« No, not tonight. »

Roman scoffed. « I thank you for blessing me. »

Silence fell between them as Roman caught sight of Virgil and the Sun. And their happiness. And how he had never made him smile so wide, how he had never made his eyes glimmer like that, how he hadn't gotten a single sparkle out of his cheeks the way he had had it on for the entirety of his dance with Emile.

Feeling under motivated, he looked away, deciding against intervening. Who was he to break his little dream?

Virgil really had been living his dream.

But everybody knows sometimes dreams tend to turn into nightmares.

« I'm glad I get to inspire the younger ones. » Emile made dancing feel natural. « Though I must ask you something as well, after seeing such adoration. » he looked in Virgil's eyes deeply. « Are you being true to yourself and honest with your feelings, Virgil? »

Agitation grew into him. « W-what would that mean? » he stuttered, his cover already blown.

« You don't have to lie about what you feel only because you fear the outcome. You already know that star in front of you is not me but it's Roman, you've known all along but you've masked it with me so Roman would have backed away thinking his interest was one sided. »

Virgil had never felt more read through in his entire life, like he had had the truth plastered on his face the entire time.

The guilt in his eyes told Emile he was spot on.

« Why is that so, little one? »

« Everybody knows what happens when two stars of a system collide they either become a single bigger star, or produce a black hole. » Virgil looked down. « I … I feared the outcome of our relationship. I figured if I made him step away, nothing like that would've happened. I didn't want to risk it. »

The Sun frowned. « You were ready to give up both of your happiness? »

« For the sake of potentially every star in this room? Yes. » he could taste his own sour words. « Nothing else matters. »

« Let me tell you something, Virgil. » Emile pulled them away from the crowd of dancers. « Usually, a black hole happens when there's a series of star collisions. A single star collision tends to merge the two stars into a supernova explosion. And yes, it is said that only one of the two will survive ultimately, but actually what survives is a mixture of the two. We call this a luminous red nova. This will only happen if your binary system ever experiences orbital decay. » Emil put a hand on Virgil's shoulder. « If you are careful about how you move and only meet during the sunrise and sunset dances, you're absolutely safe. Believe me. Okay? »

Virgil blinked a few times before stopping to bit his cheek and finally let a genuine smile creep on his face. « I do. I believe you. » he took a deep shaky breath, finally devoid of all the concerns in his mind. « Thank you. »

« Don't mention it, little one. Now, make me proud and go t- »

The Sun got interrupted by a loud crashing sound, like the sky had just broken up and started falling from the ceiling.

The two immediately looked behind themselves to find the most terrifying picture: every single star but one had been blown away, fallen to their feet as the only standing one started having a red aura around them. The luminous shade seemed to only grow wider and … warmer.

« Oh, Jupiter. This is not good. » Emile said as Virgil noticed Roman a few feet away from the standing star, staring wide eyed at them.

« What? What's going on? »

« It's Zeta Ophiuchi. » Emile slowly turned to Virgil, terror in his eyes. « It's turning into a Runaway star. »

✾✾✾✾

« So, what astronomers hypothesized up until now is that Zeta Ophiuchi had been previously part of a binary system itself, but its partner had exploded into a supernova, hurling Zeta at a very high speed through space. This is why they're called runaway stars. » Logan explained to Remus as he had been confused by the dramatic cliffhanger; he then turned to Janus. « That is fairly a very interesting way of portraying the beginning of a runaway star. I wonder what Roman had said to cause her to have that reaction. »

« Oh! I know! He rejected her. »

« Damn, » Janus furrowed his eyes at Remus. « You really don't like leaving some suspense here and there. »

« This is repay for when you told me you didn't know whether Roman was going to be okay. And he sure as hell doesn't sound okay now. »

Janus tucked his nephew into bed. « How about you sleep, you stinky little rat king? »

Remus whined. « You know that's my favorite nickname! I can't help but comply. » he suddenly lifted his hands. « Take me, arms of Orpheus. »

« It's Morpheus. » Logan pointed out.

« You're all boring. » he turned to the other side and, after half an hour, he gave out to his tiredness.

Ever since then, Logan started visiting whenever he could between shifts and free work days, sometimes he would stay for dinner, other times they would all watch movies together. Mostly Logan realized how he much had caught them in his heart and wanted to help around as much as it was possible for him.

Especially since that one other rather emotional night – again, in vino veritas – in which Janus had told him how hard it was to do everything on his own.

He obviously hadn't meant to ask Logan to do everything for him, but it was also a pretty important call for assistance and the astronomer was more than happy to fulfill the position.

« I apologize, » Janus had called from the hallway one evening. « Remus is having some trouble tonight, I'll be back in a minute, you can start watching anything if you'd like. »

It had been fairly twenty minutes since Janus had disappeared behind Remus's door: Logan couldn't help but be concerned, thus he got up, intending on asking whether some help was needed.

His purpose hadn't been to eavesdrop initially, really.

« Virgil had told Anguis that her stories were delightful, » Janus had told Remus as he stroked his hair. Remus's eyes were red and puffy. « He told her she should've pursued her dream and come to Earth to tell humans our adventures around space. He was the one to finally convince her, you know? She shined brighter than I had ever seen her. I was so happy she had made that choice. »

« I still am. I'm very glad we came to Earth. Even after everything that has happened, I couldn't imagine living million of years running through space without you. Without Logan. I'm happy to have fallen down here rather than be up there. »

« I still miss some stars, I miss Roman and Virgil very dearly … I had barely a chance to meet the others, but … I don't regret leaving them behind for this. »

Remus only stared at him, but seemed to nod and ultimately hug Janus tightly.

Logan couldn't make out what they murmured to each other, especially as he got lost in his thoughts.

So there were others?

« Oh- » he didn't notice Janus coming out of the room right after. « Oh f- Uh, how much did you hear? »

« Enough, I think. » Logan was still zoned out, which made him seem like he was completely uncaring.

« Well, uhm, you know how … stories you tell kids am I right? You pretend- »

« I'm an astronomer, Janus, » Logan begun, focusing on the other's eyes. « I know a lot about stars. I've seen you and Remus's faces literally light up. I also know stars can be people, you don't have to lie to me. » his tone was soothing, he still couldn't believe he had met another one. « I met one of you before, his name is Thomas. Thomas Sanders, to be specific. »

Janus's eyes widened. « The- The actor? »

« Exactly. I helped him out when he fell – right behind my house, to his luck – and as of now, we grew apart since he has been profoundly busy. We are still in contact, though. We actually meet up from time to time. »

« That … » Janus's expression was priceless, a mixture of disbelief and amazement. « I have no idea how to describe how I'm feeling right now.

Logan loved it so much.

« Thomas is writing a movie script as of now. He's given one of the characters my name. »

« You. » Janus pulled Logan away from the hallway. « Are, as of now, the coolest human being of my knowledge. »

They sat down on the couch, letting the TV show be their background noise.

« Why, I'm rather flattered. »

« Okay. » Janus took the glass of wine he had left on the table earlier, before taking a small sip out of it. « I'm ready. »

« For? »

« My actual life story. »

Logan tilted his head and laid back, ready to let the other talk. It had already been a stressful night, why not stay on theme?

« My sister and I were formerly two shooting stars. We used to travel through space and meet a wide range of stars, galaxies and planets. It was wonderful. Then we fell on Earth by choice. We quickly adapted to its customs somehow. Anguis and I met Clyde, they fell in love and I put my feelings aside in their favor, since … I heard my love isn't exactly condoned here. » he took another sip.

« When I told you she fell ill, it was actually her star self shutting down. She ultimately became stardust under our very own eyes. Clyde feared Remus and I would end up the same way, since even my nephew's part star. And then we were left alone. » he opened his arms. « I hope this tale entertained you as well. »

Logan didn't say anything before surging forward and taking Janus in a tight embrace. He wasn't intending on letting go anytime soon, especially when he felt his friend's sobs on his shoulder.

« What if it really happens? W-what if I lose Remus in the span of a week? I couldn't bear it. »

« What if you don't? What if he spends a wonderful fulfilling life thanks to the possibilities you're offering him? What if you get to see him grow old and spend all your last moments knowledgeable that he is happy thanks to you? Because never in your life the thought of abandoning him ever crossed your mind. »

Logan tightened his hug. « You are a spectacular guardian, Janus. Take it from someone who knows how it feels to be neglected. You have nothing to fear, and it's normal to feel doubtful every now and then. » he loosened it after, so he could look him in the eyes. « Whatever happens, you can face it like you have always done. Okay? »

Janus nodded and muttered a low okay, right after he almost didn't register Logan giving him a forehead kiss.

« I hope you will feel more free to tell me anything that bothers you, now that I know. »

« You're the only one I can turn to. » Janus smiled sadly, averting his eyes.

« Well then, » he took his hands and guided him on his feet. « I am honored to be at your service. Come, now. »

Logan took him to his bedroom so he could rest sooner, but as he helped him lay down, he felt something tug at his shirt. He turned and saw Janus's fingers laced on the fabric.

« Could you stay? » he drowsily asked, his voice barely audible like he was afraid to talk any louder, or at all.

Logan smiled softly and nodded; he proceeded to close the front door and turn off the lights for him. Afterwards, he laid next to the other and stroked his hair until he fell asleep.

He was confused.

Had he always felt attracted by him because of the star's pull, or were his feelings lying to him? Why did he care so much? Why did he want to do anything in his power to ease their lives?

Why hadn't he stopped to caress Janus's face and look at him as soon as he'd fallen asleep? Why would he rather have him in his arms like before?

He wanted to hold his hand longer, let him know he was there in case he had a nightmare.

Still, Janus had simply asked him to stay.

That he was going to do.

After that night, Logan had chosen to give Janus some more space. A few days had passed when he received a very welcome message from one of his acquaintances.

He was quick to text Janus about it as well: Thomas had just asked him if they could meet up that week, which would've been the perfect time for them to meet as well.

They could have also shared their experiences and get other stuff off of their chests, stuff only both of them would understand. Plus he was sure it would've been nice to have someone like you to talk to for instance.

Not even a minute after, Janus wrote back to him, talking about how excited he would've been to meet up with them as well.

It all led to one particular afternoon at a café, Logan had just introduced Janus and Remus to Thomas, who they found out used to be a very small galaxy on the brink of  crashing and becoming a black hole. He lost all of his stars, but at least he saved himself.

He confessed he had a freckled pattern of them on his back.

It didn't surprise him how they clicked immediately.

Thomas talked about his project, this movie where he would talk to different aspects of his personality and work through issues about himself and grow as a person.

« The funniest bit about this is that I'm not human, thus I experienced the most childish dilemmas at an old age. » as Thomas chuckled, Janus was sure he had seen the galaxy's stars in his eyes twinkle as well.

« But enough about me, Logan told me you tell wonderful stories! » Thomas's eyes lit up immediately. « I also asked him a bit about you in general, and honestly dude. You give me major Disney villain vibes. »

Janus put a hand on his chest. « Why, thank you. »

Thomas chuckled. « I was thinking, would you like to contribute to a character I have in mind? He's pretty complex and I have a feeling your thinking would suit him amazingly. »

« Oh. » Janus's mouth hung open. « I … I don't know what to say- »

« Yes! Say yes, I want my character too! Can I have one? » Remus jumped out from his seat and leaned over Thomas as the other man giggled. « I want something gross! »

« I like your unusual thinking, kiddo. » Thomas rested his chin on his hand. « I do have an idea for a character correlated to intrusive thoughts … What's your favorite color, Remus? »

« Green! »

The former galaxy pulled out a notebook from his bag, taking down everything he had just learnt. « I can work with that. »

« Hey uncle, you think we could add Roman and Virgil too? Maybe even Patton? »

Janus cleared his throat, ready to say something similar to the fact that they shouldn't impose anything on Thomas, but was promptly cut off by the man himself as Logan told Remus he had had a wonderful idea.

« Oh? » a sly smile appeared on his lips. « Do tell me more about them? »

Janus scratched his neck and let his hand rest on his shoulder. « Uhm, it's kind of a long story, but it's about these two stars my sister and I met before falling on Earth. »

The former galaxy couldn't have seemed more intrigued: Remus came to the rescue, providing an insightful summary of the previous events, with Logan's assistance, justifying some space facts Thomas had forgotten during his life on Earth.

« You absolutely have to tell me more, dude. »

« As you wish, » Janus assumed his usual storytelling position on the café's seat, looking then both at his nephew and Logan. « Are you guys ready for the great finale? »

✾✾✾✾

In an instant, Virgil had found himself on the ground; Emile had thrown him down so the second blow of Zeta wouldn't have hit him as much, but the Sun kept running, aiming to protect the Moon with everything he had in his potential.

Virgil's every limb was trembling as he pulled himself up by the elbows, sliding forward until he reached something to sustain himself up: he looked around and saw the stupidest star in the galaxy doing the stupidest thing in the universe.

Roman was already standing, trying to coax whatever had caused Zeta to explode, without success.

« You! » she roared, as Emile and Remy started gathering stars around to let them out as fast as they could. « You are an hypocrite! After everything I've done for you! » there was another blow, to which Virgil reacted by doubling over again.

Roman stood still, which was permitted by his star's strength. « I'm sorry I can't reciprocate your feelings Zeta! I can't fake them either! »

« Shut up! »

As another blow hit the room, Virgil tried to slither on the floor the closest he could to the couple: it was then that he understood Roman was numbing down Zeta's crashing energy by taking all the blows on himself.

That idiot.

Roman made a false move by averting his gaze to Virgil on his right, rather than focusing on the soon-to-be runaway star. Zeta followed it, feeling the burning of her insides even stronger than before.

In that single second of haziness, chaos was unleashed.

They all had less than a second to react: Roman ducked to his right, using himself as a shield to protect Virgil, still disoriented by the previous blow.

A single hit from her curve and Virgil would've been detached from their binary system and become a runaway star as well.

Emile rapidly pushed Remy out of the palace along with the other stars, fearing for their well-being as he already knew the consequences Zeta was going to cause.

When he turned back, hearing the Moon's “wait!” before closing the entrance, she had already been violently circulating in the room, everything she hit crumbled to pieces, her final goal being the two stars that had caused her infinite dolence.

She had spiraled out of control.

« Roman! » Emile tried to avoid the falling bricks of marble in every direction, shielding his eyes from the dust. « We cannot withstand her power any longer, we have to leave! »

Virgil looked rapidly between the two, shortly glanced at where Zeta was heading and ran in her opposite direction, taking Roman's hand in his as the Sun went along them.

The entrance had already been blocked, thus there was a single emergency exit remaining: the balcony.

The three ran down the hallways, scrambling to their feet here and there everytime Zeta crashed into the walls and the ceiling, the lights already out.

Everything went wrong when Roman let go of Virgil's hand and locked him and Emile out of the hallway, free to run to their salvation.

They immediately turned to him.

« What the fuck do you think you're doing? » Virgil punched the glass door, while Roman's expression displayed determination and slight regret.

« I'm the strongest star between all of us. I can keep her at bay as you guys get to a safe location- Please, just let me do this. »

« Are you out of your mind?! And leave you in this crumbling place where you'd never get out alive? » Virgil powered up, his eyes and fists becoming pure light and fire. He punched the glassed entrance further, breaking it instantly this time.

Roman's eyes widened and he watched Virgil tug him down by the shirt.

« Don't you get it? It's you, you fool. It's always been you. » Virgil's voice sounded between desperate and on the verge of crying, in need to let out all of the words he'd never been able to before. « I had a hard time admitting it to myself because I was scared but it's always been you I loved. »

Roman couldn't quite believe the words he was hearing, thinking he had to be hallucinating after all the hits taken by Zeta. Tears welled up in his eyes before he could register them, he then raised a hand to cup Virgil's cheek.

« And now I don't care anymore. I don't care, either we die because of a black hole or for a runaway star, it doesn't matter! » he breathed in, hiccuping in the middle of it, before looking back up at Roman. « I will be with you, because I love you. I love you and I'm not scared. »

Roman felt hysterical, letting out a muffled laugh between his sobs. « I love you too. » he took Virgil's face in both his hands and pressed their lips together almost desperately. And there he knew there hadn't been a collision he would've wanted more than that one.

As they parted, Virgil turned to Emile, who had been trying to reduce the blows for as long as they could have some more minutes.

« Go. You're way too important. »

Roman nodded. « We will handle it. »

The Sun spared them one last look, one of those that meant everything from gratitude to the deepest admiration.

When he was gone, Virgil took Roman's hand yet again, maybe for the last time, he thought, and they ventured back in the halls together.

They tightened their grips the more the crashes became unsustainable.

Looking at the ceiling and up ahead, the two understood there was no way for them to progress any further. Roman placed them in front of a window, then he called Zeta to them.

As she inverted her course to reach them, the two embraced each other.

« Scared? » Roman murmured, looking in his eyes.

« Not one bit. » Virgil's soft and imperceptible smile was exactly what Roman would've wished to see last of him.

A blinding light surrounded them, both powering themselves up to take in Zeta's hit and protect each other as best as they could.

Then, the final blow came.

And everything turned dark as a black hole.

It didn't take much for the Sun and the Moon to reconstruct a palace for the sunset dance of the same day, apart from a small eclipse to be formed as the two worked together.

For the first time in forever, they took much longer to show up.

Remy and Emile kept each other's balance as they checked their previous half destroyed palace; the remains kept perfectly gravitating in the same place as before, as though the signs left by Zeta hadn't mattered or damaged them at all.

There was hope, they couldn't deny it, the kind of hope that set yourself up for disappointment.

It was on their third time of jumping around bits of pavement that they decided to give up, sure that there wasn't anything they had left behind.

On the Sun's hallway, where everything was unusually almost untouched, compared to the rest of the building, Remy held Emile's hands as he helped him down a pile of debris.

Something glowed from under their feet, reflecting its light on Remy's sunglasses for a brief moment: they immediately looked down and crouched as their partner curiously asked what he had noticed.

Remy inspected the marble rocks, until he felt some that had definitely a warmer temperature.

Either that was where Zeta had last gone, or …

« Help me take these away. » the Moon's resolute voice made Emile immediately comply.

There it was.

There they were.

Surrounded by a faint purple light, Virgil and Roman laid on the floor in each other's arms, unconscious.

Remy and Emile exchanged looks before lifting a star each and walking away from the desolate place.

Virgil's eyes opened as Emile and Remy parted in each other's new wings, his foggy vision permitted him to make out barely Roman's blacked out face in the distance.

« Ro- » Remy noticed him shifting in their arms. « Did I? No- » he whined, but the Moon shushed him kindly and, just like that he nodded off to sleep again.

Roman didn't comprehend why he had woken up in the Sun's room.

He pulled himself up from the bed, noticing how the room's seemed to have been re-decorated.

Like they had completely changed places.

It hit him in that exact moment, when he saw his ballroom clothes completely different, the pounding headache barely healed.

He made it?

Did that mean …?

Before he knew it, he was running in the hallway.

And someone was running towards him, hugging him on sight.

« For all the galaxies, Roman! » Patton squeezed him tight like he hadn't seen him in a billion eons. « That was not the right time to play the hero! » Patton pulled away that much to look him in the eyes. « I am so glad you're alive. » he then said, his voice as broken as the window he last remembered.

Canopus was right along him, but, differently from him or the Sun and Moon's warm expressions, she looked melancholy.

Roman had always suspected she had feelings for Zeta.

He approached her and took her hand in his. « I'm sorry. It's m- »

« She did it to herself. » she admitted, before looking up. « It would've been worse if you lied to her only to please her. » she displayed a sad smile. « I would've hated you only on that occasion. It's okay, Roman. I'm going to be alright. »

Roman realized he had underestimated Canopus's strength, but he was grateful he did.

And now, the big moment.

« Where …? »

« Where you already know. »

Emile and Remy parted to let a path behind them, which was leading to two massive golden doors.

Roman paced towards them, wasting no time in fiddling with the handles as he pushed them open.

If he ever had to imagine what happened to stars when they died, he wished it was exactly like that.

That palace's terrace was much bigger than the one they last saw Emile on; Virgil was waiting, looking at the sunset take place in front of him in the distance, unaware of his system partner.

He only turned around as he heard Roman sigh in relief at his sight.

As much as he wanted to run to him instantly, he kept one hand on the parapet and simply looked fondly at him as Roman stepped towards him.

Roman took his free hand and leaned on the rails as well, taking one quick glance at the beauty of nature.

He made slow movements, trying to realize whether or not Virgil was real, before circling him with his arms around Virgil's waist.

« Still not scared? » he whispered it like a secret between them.

Virgil's cheeks had already lit up as soon as he exited the ballroom. « I won't ever be anymore. » he confessed, resting his forehead against Roman's.

And it was true.

At last, he wasn't scared to touch him anymore.

At last, there were no more secrets to be uncovered.

At last, they could dance together.

✾✾✾✾

Silence followed Janus's last words: he waited for reactions, but all he saw were the three's gazes fixed on the table, Thomas's mouth ajar, like he had just made the deepest revelation.

« I- » Thomas looked back at the storyteller. « I loved everything you said. I loved every single word you pronounced, holy stars! » he tried to compose himself. « This is incredible. Just- Listen, this is going to sound very sudden, but- Would you ever consider being a script-writer with me? We could work on this movie together, your way of talking- I'm sure it would be just as wonderful if you wrote all of that down. Your words are magnificent! »

Janus had met him to be able to talk to someone like him, and there he was, being offered one of the most astounding jobs in his life.

He was stunned.

Remus hit his hands on the table. « Absolutely! » he answered in his uncle's stead. « Please, join my uncle! »

« I- » Janus's face broke into a wide smile. « It can be arranged, yes. » he laughed slightly. « I would love to! » he almost didn't notice Logan's hand in his.

He didn't definitely notice the astronomer's affectionate gaze, feeling not only butterflies but an entire species of animals running in his stomach at the sight of Janus's excitement.

Oh, how he loved the way his face lit up, how his eyes glimmered bright even on a sunny day.

« Wonderful cause I have plenty of new ideas! I might even consider Remy and Emile somewhere … »

The conversation went on, but Logan wasn't able to hear anything else other than how melodious Janus's voice sounded all of a sudden.

Janus couldn't stop talking about it even after they arrived back at the apartment, barely able to exit his car while Remus had already gone up the stairs and opened the door to let himself in.

« I just- For the Moon, Logan! A scriptwriter! Beside a famous actor who used to reside in space! » he had taken Logan's hand in his own. « I'm simply blown away! »

They stopped at the beginning of the stairs.

« Gosh, this is all thanks to you. » Janus looked up at him, sparkles all around him as he smiled fondly.

Logan's heart couldn't have possibly been happier, finding the sight extremely endearing.

When had they started hugging? He was so lost in his gaze …

« Your eyes are always so bright and glowy and beautiful. »

Janus blinked twice, his expression shifting slightly.

« It's like I could recognize every single constellation in them. »

He raised his hands to rest them on Logan's cheeks and brush them with his thumbs. « I love you. »

Janus leaned in and kissed him. « I love you so much. » he whispered before the other kissed him back, slowly.

They exchanged more, resonating they could never have enough, until they heard someone call from above.

« Is Logan going to be my new uncle?! »

They parted and looked up, seeing an excited Remus run around in excitement.

« Holy sh- »

« I knew it. »

✾✾✾✾

It was the day of the premiere of Thomas and Janus's movie.

The two were sitting next to Logan and Remus on the front seats, delightfully waiting for it to finally air for everybody else in the world.

Remus watched Thomas unable to stay silent one minute, his uncles holding hands, as their engagement rings glimmered in the semi-dark room.

He thought back of what life was before Logan came around, before Janus had started telling him stories of the people he and his mother had encountered.

Never would he have thought he would have been sitting in front of a soon-to-be bestseller movie's first airing, nearly two years after, with a new relative he deeply loved and new friends like him.

He hadn't known nothing of the sky.

But now he did.

Remus took Logan's hand and both he and Janus looked down at him, a genuine and caring smile on their faces as Thomas's voice echoed with the opening of the movie.

« What is up everybody?! »

He finally knew everything he needed to know.

#ts storytime 2020 submission #prinxiety #loceit #remile #patton sanders #sanders sides #purp's writings #ts fanfic #character thomas

[angrylizardjacket]

mouth full of white lies {Machine Gun Kelly} 1

1. you look like my next mistake

Summary: You’re Douglas Booth’s adopted little sister, a YouTuber moonlighting as an assistant on The Dirt. The fact that your brother’s the lead is a happy accident. Another happy accident? Getting drunk with MGK and becoming fast friends with him. Until, of course, everyone assumes you’re together. What better way to make everyone shut up then by agreeing. Sort of. Okay so you’re not really dating but you’ve got to convince your respective fans that you are. And the rest of the cast and crew. It’s okay, flirting is totally harmless. The feelings? Everything else that comes after? Less harmless.

A/N: we meant to be a much different, much shorter fic for @kellysimagines, but i hope you like it!! fake dating AU. reader is adopted, not blood related!! warnings for drunken-ness.

the brainstrust: @sataninsatin @silvertonguedserpent @juliarose21 @kellysimagines @estxxbritt @machine-gun-casie @siriuslymooned @harringtonstudios @misscharlottelee @narcvissa @hiworlditishumbleme @angelwarner28 @nevilles-insinuations @rumoured-whispers @mgkobsessed @edwardtriggerhandzz @suckerforbarnes @wastelcve @bakerkells @local-troubled-writer @freddiessmallnipples

----

The fact that you and your brother ended up working on the same project was purely coincidence, and that actually wasn’t a lie. Douglas had landed the role of a lifetime, Nikki Sixx in The Dirt, and was immediately up to his eyes in nondisclosure agreements. You, on the other hand, had been scrolling through Facebook when a friend of yours, Josy, who happened to be an assistant director who had been talking about a ‘huge project for Netflix she wasn’t allowed to discuss’ asked if you wanted to come onboard as her assistant, since you’d proven to be good under pressure and fast on your feet when she had still been filming student projects only a few years ago.

“Hello! Hello and welcome back, ducklings! Today is a ‘Get Ready With Me’ for my flight to New Orleans! Can you believe it? I’m working on a big project and I have to travel - they’re paying for my travel! I’m so excited! This is going to be such a fun project, even though I can’t tell you too much about it just yet. So to start with, I’m going to run you through my every-day shower routing.”

You hadn’t been at the table read, but you had been at rehearsals, had turned up on the first day looking all done up, excited and professional, only to be met with your brother in eyeliner. 

“Duck!” Of course he was elated to see you, grin splitting his face from ear to ear. He calls you by your childhood nickname, he always has, and already you can feel every pair of eyes on you, but you don’t care. The nickname had followed you through life, of course less than a day in the project and it was already spreading. 

Everything making sense after you mention Josy had gotten you the job. She was a mutual friend, had always been fond of the two of you.

“This,” you enthuse, clutching your clipboard to your chest, “this is what you’re doing? You’re doing the Motley Crue biopic?” You’re looking at him with stars in your eyes, your talented big brother, who seemed to bring you along for the ride in one way or another. 

And finally he can tell you about it, because damn it had felt like forever since the two of you had spoken simply because he’d been hiding the biggest news in his life from you. 

“Oi, Booths!” You hear Josy’s distinct voice the moment she steps in the rehearsal room, though she’s clearly smiling, “good to see you both, but Doug, I need you up and in the space; I’m running warm ups before we get started. Duck, could you go on a coffee run for me?” She asks it sweetly; she’d picked up the nickname for you years ago from Douglas, and of course it had stuck, not that you minded. With that you’re both off. 

You’d been so distracted by getting to talk to your brother, who had been early just as you had been - there’s something to be said for nature versus nurture, despite not sharing genetics, you certainly shared a sense of punctuality - that you hadn’t even seemed to notice the rest of the cast getting in. But they’re not your job; you just have to keep Josy happy, get her food and drinks when she requested it, and type out emails she dictates. Easy. 

Of course this isn’t how things stay; you’re in close proximity to the cast for at least five hours a day, in a corner somewhere working on your own emails or scrolling through Twitter when you weren’t needed, but always around. For the first few days, no-one pays you much attention. 

“Hello! Hello and welcome back, ducklings! It’s my first week with The Project, and I’ve finally got a day off; it’s Sunday so I’m dragging my brother to a whole bunch of places you lovely people have recommended for me! Wish us luck!”

You’ve been in front of a camera for about as long as Douglas has, though never quite in the same way. You’d tried your hand at all sorts of jobs, both in the entertainment industry, and not, and while you enjoyed the entertainment industry well enough, you found that you had a passion for making your own videos. Your YouTube channel, which was almost at a million followers, had been going strong for almost four years, as you made videos about the lesser known roles in the industry. Sometimes your brother was in your videos, but often he wasn’t, and you felt lucky that you never really needed to use him for clout. He was just Doug, and your followers knew that if he was in a video, it’s because he wanted to be, but he wasn’t the reason the video was being made.

Douglas was nothing if not supportive, and when Sunday rolls around and when production gave you and the main cast the day off, while the second unit team worked with some of the secondary characters, you were both more than happy to take advantage of the freedom.

“Dude I have such a long list of places we could go, I don’t even know where to begin - haven’t you been here before?” You pressed the phone to your ear, frowning at the two outfits you had laid out on the bed before you.

“Yeah, for like,” Douglas hums at the other end of the line, “like press things, and like a week and a half for some Jupiter Ascending stuff-”

“Did that even make it -?”

“No, it got cut -” somewhere behind him, the milk frother of a coffee machine squeals, and someone’s indistinct name is called.

“Get me a drink,” you tell him, instinctively.

“Get one yourself!” He half laughs, and you hear him cover the receiver and muffle his thanks as he presumably picks up his drink.

“Who are you talking to?” When he uncovers the phone, you can hear another familiar voice; it’s Colson, you’re pretty sure. You know him from rehearsals, and a bit from his music, but not much beyond that.

“My sister,” Douglas offers, flatly, to which you make a noise of indignance. 

“Ask him if he’s ever been to New Orleans -” you instruct, putting the phone on speaker and opting to change into your more practical jeans and sweater option.

“She wants to know if you’ve ever been to New Orleans -” He relays easily, and you hear a snort of laughter.

“Of course I have.” You hear Colson say.

“Of course he has -” Douglas tells you, as if worried that you hadn’t heard.

“Ask him -” You begin, but you’re cut off.

“We’re across the road,” Douglas tells you, and you know without having to see him that he’s rolling his eyes at you. Audi ambassador, philanthropist, movie star, and occasional model Douglas Booth had the composure of a saint for everyone but you, though neither of you would have it any other way, “just come over here yourself.”

“Get me a drink?” You asked hopefully, and you heard him sigh, knowing you’d already won.

Your favourite drink is waiting for you when you arrive, as are both Douglas, and Colson, sitting hunched over in a booth with dark glasses. You can’t help but chuckle.

“Booths in a booth.” You mutter, and at least that gets their attention. Sliding in next to Douglas, you make eye contact with Colson as he lowers his glasses and frowns at you, just a little, as you sip your drink.

He looks between the two of you for a moment; you don’t share a whole heap of similarities with him, but after a beat, he nods, and gives you a curious look.

“Alright, good to meet you,” he paused, narrowed his eyes for a moment, “you’re part of the crew, aren’t you?” Is what he focuses on.

“Assistant to the AD,” you nod, before adding, “Duck, you might know me as Duck,” and that he seems to recognise at least. Colson hums thoughtfully, nodding and sliding his glasses back up his nose as he leans back against the seat. Drinking your drink with a surprising focus, you hand over your list of recommended places to Douglas, who nods approvingly, but quickly turns it over to Colson. He makes short work of it, crosses quite a few spots off, adds a few of his own, and takes pause to look up from it.

“Why are we going all over town? Why not just like... chill and maybe go over lines and shit? Isn’t that what we’re meant to do?”

“Didn’t take you for the cautious type,” you tell him with a teasing edge to your voice. Colson fixes you with a half-smile, handing the phone back pointedly.

“I’m not, I just don’t want you to narc on me if we start at bourbon street and spend our precious Sunday getting drunk in The Big Easy,” he matches your tone, sitting back with a posture so relaxed it’s almost scripted, and you’re pretty sure you like his nerve. 

“I’m...” you hesitate a little, “a YouTuber,” and though Colson winces a little, it still stings. With so much stigma surrounding your profession, even in 2018, it’s hard to explain to people what you do for a living and not receive criticism.

“So you’re gonna catch all the stupid shit we do on camera?” He asks, and oh, so that’s what he’s worried about. You let out a breath you hadn’t realised you’d been holding.

“If you don’t wanna be in it, then you don’t have to be; anyways, I’ll edit out all the bits that break our NDAs,” shrugging, you shoot for casual, and Colson looks like he’s actually weighing up his options. 

“You still haven’t told him you’re not a narc,” Douglas stage whispers to you, which makes your expression sour and Colson laugh.

“You’re a narc,” you hiss back, reflexively. 

“We’re method acting,” Douglas offers, aiming for that same casual confidence that Colson was exuding, but not quite getting there.

“Fuck yeah, dude, that’s the spirit,” Colson’s expression breaks out into a grin, and he offers Douglas a fist bump, which your brother gladly returns. Then Colson’s looking back at you, bright and excited rather than judgmental; “you in?”

“We’ve gained a newcomer! A tour guide, if you will, Mister-” and you turn where you’re filming yourself and the two men beside you, the camera shaking in your grip as you head down the street, and your voice lowers, “what do you want me to introduce you as-” but he buts you off, moves around Douglas, who’s laughing quietly to himself, and grabs the camera.

“It’s MGK, motherfuckers! We ‘bout to hit Bourbon Street - we’ll bookend this shit; open with it and close with it, we’ll be back here tonight!” He sticks his tongue out, and throws out the devil sign with his hands, before turning the camera to catch Douglas laughing, and you looking both excited and concerned.

“We will?” 

When you ask about Daniel and Iwan, the other two members of the film’s Motley Crue, all you get is vague answers; in time, they’ll all come to be good friends, but it’s their first Sunday off, and no-one begrudges them for them choosing to take time for themselves. Douglas and Colson, however, had decided early on to try and make their friendship both on and off screen as authentic as possible. 

“Fuck, man, Tommy’s like, opening line in the book is that he and Nikki were like an old married couple, for like twenty years, dude, that kind of connection is insane!” Colson is nothing if not good casting, waxing poetic at a diner he’d spotted around midday, your little group already tipsy and hungry since your less than substantial cafe breakfast.

“I give this bacon and egg roll,” Douglas is in his own little world, only aware that you had your camera pointing at him as he devoured his lunch with a surprisingly messy gusto, “four-and-a-half out of five cups.” He announced with a mouth full of food, using the rating system you’d devised earlier in the day. After a moment, he swallowed, before turning to Colson, expression serious, “I’ve known you for about a week, and as much as I like you, I don’t think I want to marry you.” 

“No, that’s the thing, man, twenty years is a long-ass time to know someone; I just, man, by the end of this, we are gonna be tight, okay? That’s all I want. Bros, you know?” And he wrapped his arms around Douglas, pulling him in for a hug, and your brother nodded seriously, wrapping his arm around Colson in return.

“Bros.” He confirmed, giving the camera a very pointed look. You make sure the camera catches when you flip him off. All it does is set off all three of you laughing.

It’s an incredibly fun day, the three of you traipsing around, visiting sound studios and memorials and sites that paid homage to the great city you found yourselves in. You know you shouldn’t be surprised, but Colson’s rather reverential when it comes to the history of music, and when you look back at your list, you see the sites he’s added all have to do with it. Honestly, you’re a little endeared. It’s also a fun night, the parts of it you can remember, stumbling, leaning on one another. There’s bound to be something about it in the gossip rags in the following days, not that the three of you were badly behaved, just that they had both stopped caring about avoiding paparazzi, and, alright, being a little bit raucous. 

In bed by two, you know you’re gonna have a killer hang over for your nine-am start, but it was a fun night, and you’re looking forward to reviewing your footage.

“I give this bourbon from - hey, where’s this bourbon from?” You turn to look over your shoulder, and the cup in your hand slops over with drink, splashing out onto the street, not that you notice. Douglas is talking to someone running a stall, but Colson joins you, wrapping an arm around you.

“We give this bourbon a cup out of cup,” he announces, and you nod seriously.

“Cup out of cup.” You agree, and lift up the cup, before an idea lights up your face. “Drink it with me, like same cup, try and drink it with me.” It’s a terrible idea, your cheeks pressed together, tongues out as if it would help you drink better -

“You guys look like incredibly stupid,” Douglas calls out from out of frame, finally noticing the two of you. You go to respond, but that’s when Colson tips up the cup and it manages to hit neither of your mouths, instead it splashes against where your cheeks were pressed together, and all down your clothes. “Told you.” Douglas adds. 

Colson licks the bourbon from your cheek with a grin, but moves on quickly. You look around shiftily once the boys had left, still holding the camera with one hand, and you pull the hem of your shirt to your mouth, sucking liquor from it as you follow behind them wearing a pleased little smile.

Honestly, things get more lively in more ways than one, after that. Now that Colson knows you, it seems the rest of the cast do too. Slowly but surely you’re developing a friendship with both Iwan and Daniel, though Colson’s been surprisingly quick to treat you like an old friend.

“Trial by fireball whiskey,” is what he tells you after rehearsals one Saturday night. You’re doing a dinner run, picking up pizzas before the four of them go out, with you as their chaperone, as directed by Josy. 

“Speaking of,” though you can’t help but grin a little at the fact that you’d earned his favour so easily, “I’ve almost finished the video.” 

“Oh God,” he groans, laughs, and covers his face with his hands, “do I even wanna see it?”

“It’s not that damning, I promise, I need to stay monetized, you know?” You laugh, but it’s a sad truth you’ve had to deal with a lot since choosing to become a YouTuber. 

“I’m not exactly PG-13,” Colson’s smirking when you look at him, and his gaze meets yours and what does that tone mean and why are you reading into this all of a sudden.

“So I suppose you were on your best behavior that night?” You ask, voice innocent, though you can feel yourself getting flustered. His smirk grows wider.

“Only for Douglas’ sake.” 

And then your name’s called for the pizzas and the mood vanishes and Colson just asks if you can send him a link when you put up the video; you tell him you can send him it before it’s published, just to make sure he’s happy with it, and he gives you this genuine smile that you feel warm your heart, just a little.

But it’s when you publish the video that all hell breaks loose. 

Having a famous brother is one thing. Having a famous brother is allowed. Knowing someone famous is clout chasing, is gold digging, is not allowed according to the internet. Making someone famous laugh is downright illegal, surely he can do better than you. Because with the views come assumptions, and your burgeoning crush aside, they’re baseless. You’ve known him for three weeks. Twenty one and a half days in total. Flirting aside, the internet doesn’t know shit. 

It still hurts. 

The video kind of blows up, because everyone loves relatively harmless drunk celebrity shenanigans, and Colson’s kind of been blowing up recently between his music, and his upcoming film Bird Box. So now there’s invasive questions and death threats filling up your DMs on every platform, and along with a new influx of followers comes a new wave of toxicity. You know how to deal with people accusing you of using your brother for clout, but this is a whole other level. 

“So you’re with Colson,” Douglas looks smug when you answer your door on the day after the video drops. Though quick to defend yourself, there’s already tears in your eyes having had little sleep from the stress of everything that had happened, his smug aura drops and he wraps you up in a hug. “Hey, I’m kidding, I’m kidding,” his voice is soothing and level as he walks you back into your room, closing your door.

“You’re an ass,” you tell him, sulkily, but you hug him back.

“I’m sorry,” he tells you in earnest.

“I’m gonna get fired-”

“You’re not gonna get fired, Duck, you didn’t break your NDA, you didn’t break YouTube’s terms of service, you bleeped out all the swearing, you had an alcohol disclaimer at the start; this is the fans and the media blowing things way out of proportion.” He assures as you sniffle, still hugging him tightly. 

“They’re gonna fire me,” you murmur, voice a soft, sad whine.

“They’re not.” 

This is the point at which your phone starts to go off; someone’s calling you, and the caller ID says it’s Colson. He must have just woken up.

“He okay-ed the video, didn’t he?” Douglas asks, and you nod. “Then he won’t be mad; he’s dealt with this shit more than us, you know?” He gently pushes you towards the phone where it’s sitting on your bed, and steps back. “I’m gonna give you and your boyfriend some space,” and it’s teasing again, his grin sharp as he ducks out of the way of the pillow you throw.

“Asshole!” You yell after him. Once’s he’s out of the room, however, you take a moment to compose yourself before picking up the phone. 

“Hey, I’m so sorry -” you start, but Colson seems surprised to hear your apology.

“Nah, Ducky, don’t worry about it, I called to apologise to you; if I’m ever seen with a chick everyone thinks I’m dating her, I should have realised, I should have -”

“No, I mean, I can’t post a video with a guy who’s not my brother without five different tea channels claiming I’m in love,” you laugh, trying to hide your distress. An awkward silence follows, in which you sniffle, and reopen your laptop.

“I am really sorry,” Colson says, and there’s regret in his voice that you hadn’t expected. “If I could get them to all shut the fuck up, I would; you shouldn’t be all torn up over my shit.”

Something about what he says plays in your mind over the next few days, watching, subdued in rehearsals. The rest of the cast ask if your alright, sympathizes with you, all of them having had run-ins with the media in one way or another. Josy, in her own way, sympathizes too, in that she doesn’t treat you any differently, she doesn’t pity you. She, like you, like all of you, knows it will blow over. Probably.

“Hello,” your tone is so damn subdued, “hello and welcome back. I’m here today to address some rumours you may have heard. To all my new ducklings, hello. And to all my old, hello again.”

“They’re not gonna believe you if you deny it,” is how you greet Colson, barging into his room after rehearsals on a Wednesday. It had been a good day, things had calmed down somewhat online, but still gossip rags were still going hard, seeing as the paparazzi had managed to spot the two of you together during a break in rehearsals. 

“Yeah, no, they generally don’t,” he says flatly, frowning a little as he closes the door, running with whatever train of thought you were on.

“Then don’t.”

“Don’t what?”

“Deny it.”

Silence.

“Are you asking me out?” He actually wears a little smile at that, but you fix him with a serious look, not even a hint of a joke in your tone or expression. 

“Yes, because we’re twelve,” you rolled your eyes, tone so flat it’s almost comical, before you snap “- fucking no I’m not asking you out -” the thought had crossed your mind several times before shit had hit the fan, but there was no way in hell he’d genuinely want you now; you both came with a mob of crazed fans, and a sweet, if fake relationship with an amicable end would be far easier to manage than crazed rumors, “I’m fake asking you out. If you’d have me, I want to date you to get our fans to calm down.”

“How?!” He splutters, both confused and overwhelmingly amused. “That’d never work.”

“If we tell them we’re together, and we’re both working on projects, the industry won’t see either of as distracted by outside sources; we talk up how we’re supporting one another through this process, and that if our fans ever wanted what’s best for us, they’d support us too.”

“You’d...” he swallows hard, though he’s certainly contemplating the thought, “you’d still get death threats, you know that-”

“I get death threats when I don’t post feet pics;” you snorted dismissively, and his eyebrows rose, “I can handle them, but if you said this made you happy, well I think a majority of your fans would calm down. Stan-culture is weird and frightening, but a lot of them, most of them,” you corrected yourself, “want what’s best for you.”

“You’ve really thought this through, haven’t you?” And he’s smiling now, watching you with something that almost resembles admiration in his eyes.

“Tell me you haven’t had a hundred tweets yelling about how you’ve corrupted me,” you cock your hip, and he casts a glance to his phone, before admitting he has, “well if I go back to posting non-drunk content with you in it, they’ll die down, I guarantee it.”

“What about your brother?”

“He’ll support me no matter what, it’ll be more believable if he, you know, believes it.” You hold out your hand, waiting. There’s an almost intimidating spark in your eyes, a focus that Colson hasn’t seen before. “Are you in?”

“Yeah, fuck it, why not,” and he shakes your hand, firm, grinning brightly.

“I’m here to address some rumours regarding my...” you took a deep breath, “boyfriend.”

#mgk #mgk imagine #mgk x reader #colson baker #colson baker x reader #colson baker imagine #douglas booth #douglas booth imagine #the dirt #the dirt cast #the dirt cast imagine #the dirt image #the angry lizard writes

[pedros-mustache-main]

couldn’t utter my love

summary: some words are simply too dangerous to speak.

word count: 2k+ 

warnings: big hoe for the angst

a/n: long time reader, first time writer (for this fandom, anyway). i’m eager to write for these guys––majority being gwil, bri, and joe. let me know what you think & what you’d like to see. i have some more ideas coming in the future which i’ll share soon. 

(disclaimer: i do not own gif below.)

he’s been there, hovering in the back of your mind like an itch, for the past week.

it’s not totally uncommon, thinking about brian. since meeting in the early days of your university studies, he’s been a friend, and fleeting thoughts––whether he’s finished his term paper, if he’d like something other than a sandwich for supper, if he’s phoned his parents recently––filter through your mind on repeat during any given day. you mother him; it’s an unfortunate habit as the eldest sibling of five, but he’s never seemed to mind. and your silly worries over his health and his studies? they’ve never bothered you either.

that is, until your worries shifted to something... unexpected.

you blame freddie. 

if it hadn’t been for freddie, smile likely wouldn’t have become queen, and queen wouldn’t have taken the u.k. by storm, and you wouldn’t have gotten a front row seat to your friend’s talent and success, and then you wouldn’t have found yourself thinking of brian may as anything other than a good schoolmate. so, in actuality, freddie is at fault for the new course of your thoughts and the new course of your worries.

now, brian is like a spectre in the corner of your eye. he’s always there, even when he’s not. every turn you take around a corner, you imagine he’ll be standing there, all long legs and curly hair. every night when you slip under the covers, you find yourself wondering if brian is alone in his own bed. every morning, when you look at your reflection in the mirror, you try to guess what he sees when he looks at you.

it’s positively infuriating, and it’s freddie’s fault, so you avoid them altogether.

but brian is too smart for his own good, and he catches on fast. he knows the spots around campus you hide in when the going gets tough, and he finds you one thursday afternoon.

it’s raining. you’re snuggled beneath an over-sized, pill-ridden sweater, the latest draft of your senior thesis spread across your lap. the pen in your mouth is worn with teeth marks, and your hands are stained with red ink. you fingers are attentive to the work—you shuffle through the pages of your paper with expertise and purpose—but your mind is elsewhere. you’d dreamt of brian the night before (and not for the first time). he’d been singing to you and you alone, and it’s gotten to be—

“thought I might find you here.”

you look up, the replay of your dream stuttering to a halt. his hair is sodden by the rain, his face covered in a fine mist. he’s smiling, though the smile is soft as ever, as if he’s shy despite it only being you and he in dimly lit corridor. 

“here.” he hands you a paper cup. steam rises from within, smelling vaguely of berries. “can i sit?” he motions to the small space on the window seat not overtaken by your work or your feet.

you nod, and he squeezes himself in between the wall and your legs. you scoot your knees closer to your chest in response.

“i haven’t seen you ‘round lately,” he says. “i––we missed you at the last few shows.”

with a sigh, you set your cup of tea on the floor. “i’ve got my thesis. it’s due soon.” he only looks at you, so you hurriedly add, “i’d be there if i could. you know that.”

he shrugs, lifting his hand to rub the back of his neck. “i haven’t been paying much attention to my coursework myself. thing’s are kinda crazy.”

at this you have to laugh. he’s effortlessly humble about queen. you suspect he views it as a hobby; at least, he did at one point. what with the recent tour around the u.k., you’re surprised he’s still enrolled in his doctorate program. anyone else would have jumped at the chance to drop out and focus entirely on rock n roll.

but not brian. he’s different. and that’s why you like him.

that’s why you like him as a friend. nothing more.

the silence stretches, thinning but not yet brittle. quiet has always been a part of your friendship. whether it’s studying in the library or reading in one of the common rooms, you feel at ease in the subdued moments you share with brian. but this silence... it’s different. you shift on the bench, your backside gone numb. you open your mouth to say something, but he speaks first.

“we’re going on tour... after the holidays.”

your brow puckers in a frown. “you only just got back from a tour. a small one, but still a tour.”

“this one’s bigger. it’s america... japan too, if they can fix it.”

your first instinct is to question him, to mother him: what about his program? what about his family? what about all the travel, the logistics of it all? what about his health?

what about you?

instead, you smile. you lean forward and squeeze his shoulder. “i’m happy for you, bri. truly i am. that’s wonderful news!”

the tension in his shoulders seem to ease under your fingers, but you chalk it up to the happy news and his excitement. still, you leave your hand on his upper bicep, your touch feather-light. 

“i’m really happy about it. all the guys are. but it means i’ve got to let go of my studies for awhile. i just came from submitting the withdrawal forms.” he shakes his head with a rueful sort of chuckle. “never thought i’d say that.”

“it’s not every day you become a rock star.”

head still bent, he peers at you through his long lashes. “i came to tell you first. i mean, besides the registrar. i thought you should hear it from me instead of... i dunno... someone else.”

as cliche as it is, butterflies take flight in your chest. you try to squash them, but they won’t be moved. you’re left with a hammering heart and increasingly hot palms. you pull your hand away from his arm, but nudge his leg with your foot.

“well, i’m honored. it’s not every day a girl’s lab partner suddenly decides to tour the world with his band. just so long remember me when you start winning awards or something. after all, i was the one who helped you through literature 101.”

you’re rambling now, nervous and trying to underplay the rising giddiness in your chest. likely he meant nothing by his decision to come and give you the news first. your mind, however, which has run through wistful thought after wistful thought for the last week, jumps at the chance to imagine that he could mean something more.

his gaze is serious, as is customary, but there’s something decidedly more intense about the way he’s looking at you. you look down at the floor and reach for your tea. the cup is growing cool, perhaps hurried along by the chill of rain against the window. you take a sip, try not to smile at his remembering your favorite flavor. 

“you mean a great deal to me,” he suddenly says. 

your eyes snap up, meeting his. you swallow past the lump in your throat. something about the tone in his voice and the uncertainty in his eyes makes you wonder what more he’s trying to say.

“you mean a lot to me, too, bri. i’ll miss you loads while you’re gone.” you force your lips into an easy smile. “but you’ll be back and then i’ll keep pestering you about whether you’ve eaten enough for dinner. maybe i’ll call you in japan just to make sure.”

“[y/n]...” his voice is but a whisper, so much softer than it normally is, heavier too. he twists where he’s sitting, and you feel your heart squeeze painfully. 

you know what he’s going to say then. you can see it written across his face, in the way he watches you every movement, in the way his hand moves to cup your bent knee then falls to his lap. god, you’d dreamed of this––him wanting you. only you hadn’t planned on the fear which is creeping up your spine. you hadn’t planned on feeling so afraid when it truly happened. you aren’t even sure what you’re afraid of, but the giddiness of moments past is quickly replaced by panic.

before he can speak, you surge to your feet. the force of your movement sends papers scattering to the four winds, falling through the air like leaves in autumn. you set the tea aside and drop to your knees, muttering under your breath as you scramble to grab the papers and put them back in their proper order. brian joins you (as if he wouldn’t?). your hands brush amongst the mess, and, by george, you want to take his hand and hold it, maybe even kiss his knuckles if you’re daring enough, but you’re too afraid. too afraid of what it will do to your friendship which is good and solid and comfortable. and you’re too afraid of what will happen if you do hold his hand and then he leaves and meets someone else, someone more suited for life beside a rockstar. 

so you ignore the fleeting touch, mumble a thank you as you stand, papers gathered––out of order, but gathered.

he towers over you. it’s not threatening, but it’s not as comforting as it once was. he shoves his hands in his pockets, his face colored by frustration.

“when do you leave?” you ask.

“februrary, i think.”

“i really will miss you.” 

your words have an air of finality you weren’t intending. you don’t mean to say goodbye forever. aside from a handful of others, brian is your closest mate at school. he has been since year one, and you don’t want to lose that. you don’t want to lose that to a world tour or a shift in your relationship.

even if it means shutting off the part of your heart that is screaming––screaming––for you to push to your toes and kiss him hard in the quiet hallway.

brian has the decency to nod in agreement, though you can see the disappointment in the way he holds his shoulders. “i’ll miss you, too.” clearing his throat, he jabs a thumb over his shoulder. “i should go tell my parents the news.”

“yes!” your voice is loud in the cramped space; you suppress a wince. “yes, they’ll be thrilled.”

“well”––he shrugs, the awkward, gangly boy of your first year––“bye.”

leaning forward, he presses a kiss to your cheek. it’s all you can do to not turn your head and capture his lips, wind your arms around his back, and throw fear to the wolves. instead, your eyes flutter shut, reveling in the softness. he draws back, and the moment is gone.

“bye,” you whisper. “i’ll call you over the holiday, yeah?”

he nods. you both know the truth. 

with a grim sort of smile, he turns and walks down the hall. you watch until he disappears around the corner. 

months later, you catch a glimpse of him on the local news. the reporter is raving about queen’s success across north america and hyping the band’s journey to asia. the images of him which flash across the screen are brief, a second here and there in between shots of roger and freddie. 

you slowly sit on the couch, hands curled around a mug of tea. berry flavored, like the one he gave you. you watch, entranced, until he appears, just him, speaking to someone just off camera.

“i guess we just want to say thank you.” his voice is slightly garbled by poor quality, but it wrenches your chest because you hadn’t realized how much you missed the sound of it. “it’s been great fun over here, and we’re excited for japan. should be exciting.” his eyes slide to the camera, and he laughs with ease. “i think i’m having trouble remembering to eat, though, we’re so busy, but it’s all good.”

you know in your heart of hearts he’s speaking to you. and you wish, not for the first time, you could change the past. you wish you had ignored the fear and said what you both felt.

you wish you had kissed him when you had the chance.

#brian may #brian may x reader #brian may fic #queen fic #j writes

[hopelessromanticspoonie]

Trust

Masterlist here

Characters: Tom Hiddleston and Female Novelist Reader

Summary: Finding just the right actor to star in the movie based on your book wasn't an easy process. And then Tom Hiddleston walked into the room, and he may solve more than just your casting concerns.

Warnings: Alcohol consumption

Word Count: 4.2k (whoops)

A/N: This is based off a request given to me by @yespolkadotkitty! I apologize that I haven’t posted in a long while and that this took a minute to get out, but I hope you enjoy it! ALSO. I know nothing about the film industry. Please ignore what I’m sure are several errors concerning that topic.

“Next!”

“He was really good. You sure you didn’t like him?”

You closed your eyes and dropped your forehead onto your hand supported by your elbow on the folding table in front of you. When you had been contacted by your agent that a studio wanted to turn your best-selling novel into a movie, it felt like a dream come true. A whirlwind of paid flights, lunch meetings, negotiations, and signed contracts led you to your spot next to the casting director, several producers, and director for the movie. You were lucky that they were taking your opinion into consideration at all, and you didn’t want to create waves, but there hadn’t been a man reading for the main role yet that felt right.

From several one-note actors to a few who were way off the mark to those who showed up completely unprepared, nobody had made you feel the gripping tension of the troubled but earnest character of Joshua Collins, the struggling artist and male half of your romantic tale.

“Hello, my name is Tom Hiddleston, and I’d like to audition for the role of Joshua Collins.”

That voice. Sophistication roughened with the barest hint of anxiety and smoothed out by a full baritone that dripped honey. Your head popped up from your hand to take in the sheepishly grinning man in front of you. He was tall, so tall that it took an eternity for your eyes to drag from the worn boots on his feet, up the slim legs expertly encased in blue slacks, over the broad chest that strained at the thin fabric of his light blue button-up shirt, to a face that had to have been sculpted by the finest craftsmen with planes and shadows to highlight his arresting stare.

The lines that he read through with a producer’s assistant sounded as if they came straight from your creative imaginings. He was Joshua. The ability he had to convey such emotion with the tilt of his head, the press of his lips, or even the very act of taking a breath to sustain his speech was enough to render you utterly transfixed. Even the silence that fell over the room as he gathered his thoughts for a response had you tense and gripping your pen until your knuckles lightened as you waited with bated breath for a reply you had memorized before he’d strolled in. But with him it was new, organic, somehow spontaneous and heartfelt and so true it resonated deep in your bones.

And then he stood from the chair he had fallen into with an easy, relieved smile on his face as he smoothed his hand down the front of his shirt. “Thank you all for sharing your time with me today. And, if I may,” he shifted his attention from the studio bigwigs to you, “I absolutely adored the raw humanity in your novel. I hope that I can bring it to life for you.”

The sound of the door closing seemed to break the spell that had fallen over the room. You shared a knowing look first with the casting director and then the director herself.

“Joe, please tell those remaining that auditions have been canceled,” Sam smiled, scribbling something in her portfolio in front of her. “We have our man.”

~

Had you picked up all of the loose bits of trash scattered around your room? Sure, the staff had cleaned that morning, but that didn’t mean that you hadn’t found some way to dirty it since then. Would bottled water be okay? Maybe he preferred coffee. Hotel coffee wasn’t ever the greatest, but it would do in a pinch. Right? And should you have put on nicer clothes? Maybe-

A light, rhythmic knock sounded on your door, stopping your anxious thoughts and making you freeze from where you were bent over making sure the hem of your jeans wasn’t rolled over.

Another knock, and you quickly righted yourself, running your hand over your hair to tame any flyaways as you scurried to the door. Tom stood on the other side, holding two beers in one hand and a thick leather folio in the other.

“Thank you for agreeing to meet with me before rehearsals begin. May I come in?”

As if anyone would turn down Tom Hiddleston, especially when he came bearing beer. You stepped to the side, allowing him to pass by, leaving behind the very masculine scent of bergamot and citrus in the air that stirred between you. “Of course. You look like you’re ready to attend a class or something.”

He placed everything down on the tiny table meant to be a desk before turning to you with a small smile. His large hands rubbed against his jeans on the outside of his thighs. “Admittedly, I am a bit of a fan of your writing. An avid fan, actually. I was hoping that you wouldn’t mind too terribly if we discussed the book? I want to ensure I fully bring this character to life as you so masterfully wrote it.”

Color you shocked. Sure, you had received plenty of praise for your book throughout this process, the paycheck was evidence enough that it was liked, but to have someone that you personally admired for their own set of talents compliment it was another thing entirely. Working to school your face so that your excitement didn’t show, you grabbed the beer he opened and sat down on the edge of the bed. “Ask away, Mr. Hiddleston.”

Draping his long and lithe form into the faded desk chair, he opened his folio and uncapped a pen that looked more expensive than the entirety of your outfit. “Tom, please. We will be working closely together, and we are neighbors in this hotel as well. Formalities are not necessary.”

“Okay,” you nodded and took a swig of liquid courage. “Tom, what would you like to know?”

Questions and answered flowed easily after a few stuttering moments on both sides of the conversation. You were only struck dumb once or twice from the intensity of his thoughtful stare, and you found yourself both grateful and saddened when it would leave you to focus on the copious notes he scribbled down in the folio on his thigh. You’d never felt so heard as to when he watched you ramble on about plot points and motivation and character development, with his hand rasping against the five o’clock shadow that darkened his razor-sharp jawline and his brows furrowed.

Only when you stifled a yawn behind your hand did he seem to pull himself from the focused notes he had been taking after you explained a more difficult aspect of Joshua’s past. He glanced at the leather-strapped watch on his arm, frowning. “I do believe that I have kept you up far too late. I apologize. I should be going so that you may rest for overseeing rehearsals tomorrow. You will be there, correct?”

“I think so, yeah. Unless I’m needed for consultation on a last-minute script change, I think that’s where I’m supposed to be. I’m not really sure how all of this works,” you admitted with a light laugh.

He walked with you to the door after tossing both his and your bottles in the trash and gathering his things that had spread out over the desk. “If you have any questions, do not hesitate to ask. I know how overwhelming all of this can be. Until then, I very much look forward to seeing you. Goodnight.”

The clasp of his hand on your shoulder was heavy, stretching across your skin with a pleasant warmth that you wanted to curl into and bask in forever. You reached up and patted his hand gently before opening the door. “Goodnight.”

Sure enough, when you watched him head back to his room in the hotel meant to house you for the entirety of the filming project, he disappeared into the room directly next to yours.

The faint scent of his cologne lingered on your clothing as you ducked back into your room to prepare yourself as best as you could for the unknown journey ahead.

~

In all your days, you’d never met someone as motivated and driven as Tom. When he wasn’t rehearsing, he was exercising, or building comradery between the cast and crew that he would be spending the next year with, or even, to your astonishment, spending time with you.

It had begun under the guise of him delving deep into his character with you over beers and room service. Then it had switched to other books in your catalog, and then, when you had begged off any serious thinking because you’d spent all day arguing with the writers, it changed into something more personal.

You walked onto set holding two travel tumblers precariously with one arm and your overstuffed binder in the other. A meeting with your agent that morning discussing the press tour preceding the premiere of the movie had gone on longer than expected, and you couldn’t wait to sit down and just watch Tom and the cast act out the inner workings of your imagination over the coffee you clutched. The idea of going for so many interviews and appearances weighed heavily on you. To be the object of so much attention wasn’t why you had gone into writing.

But, perhaps this was.

Tom looked quite frustrated as he talked to Sam, the director, in the middle of the set, about a pivotal point in the film where he admits his love to the female lead (who does not feel the same), and he barely glanced your way as you settled in. His hands flew in front of him with every gesture, fingers spread wide and then clenched tightly into fists at his side. Some conclusion must have been reached because Sam came back to her spot behind the monitors and Tom got into place.

It was obvious to everyone that something was off. You especially, as the dialogue didn’t fit what you had written with the screenwriters for the scene. After the cameras stopped rolling so Sam could talk to Tom once again, whose performance had been stilted and unnatural, you turned to your assistant with a frown heavily etched into your skin. “Was there a rewrite?”

She didn’t even look up from the email she was typing away on her phone. “Yes, ma’am. Just given to everyone this morning. I sent it to your email.”

Groaning quietly, you slipped your coffee and belongings into pockets on the sides of your chair and stood up, holding Tom’s tea in your hand. When you caught his eye you raised it in the air and he nodded. He could come get a drink from it when he had a moment.

That moment came much faster than you expected. He held up one finger to Sam, and you barely caught him plead, “Let me take a drink before we run it again,” before he jogged over to you.

“What’s going on?” you asked, offering him the steaming tea and crossing your arms over your stomach.

He took a deep drink and sighed, closing his eyes to savor the flavor and moment of peace before opening them to look wearily down at you. Irritation lived in the lines between his brows and in the press of his lips together. “The rewrites simply don’t feel like Joshua. I don’t feel as if they line up with his motivations. I-” he sighed heavily, dropping his chin to his chest and putting his free hand on his hip.

You stepped closer to him so that he was forced to meet the determined set of your eyes. Of its own accord, your hand reached out and grasped his. He returned the tight grip and your heart squeezed right along with it. Not the time.

“You know him. You’ve brought him to life and fleshed him out into a fuller being than my words ever did. I-”

“Don’t sell yourself short. You’re immensely talented,” he interjected.

“I’m not. I’m praising your talent. I’ll go fight Sam if I have to, to just get one take like it was written before they changed it. That’s all I can probably get you. Can you do it?”

He took a bracing sip of his tea before handing the travel mug back to you. Gratitude reflected in the stormy blue of his eyes. “I can. Thank you.”

And then he jogged off back to the set, speaking quietly with the female lead, Mary, about the plan. Which left you to face Sam, hopefully, to throw around what little bit of weight you had. In all honesty, she could put a stopper on the whole situation and force Tom to follow the rewrites. But he was watching you with such hope and support that it bolstered your confidence enough to set down his drink and go over to her.

“What’s going on?”

Sam was a fierce woman, having clawed her way up through the ranks to get her position, and it was easy to want to cower under the steel of her stare. Taking a deep breath, you held out your hands at your sides. “The rewrites aren’t working, Sam. He knows it, Mary knows it, and I know it. Can we just try it the way it was written before? Even if it doesn’t work like we hope, then he’ll have gotten it out of his system and we can move on with shooting.”

She studied you, pinning you to the spot as you tried desperately not to fidget while waiting for her verdict. She maintained eye contact when she shouted to the remarkably silent cast and crew, “One take with the old lines and blocking.”

The knowledge that your reputation was very much on this decision weighed heavily on your shoulders as you nodded your thanks before heading back to your chair. Getting situated, you cradled your coffee in your hands and inhaled the calming aroma as you watched everyone scurry around to get ready for the slight change in blocking and places.

And then action was called, and tears pricked at the corners of your eyes as Tom’s heart was broken and shattered into a million pieces at Mary’s rejection. The anguish he expressed through ragged breaths and glistening eyes was enough to make you want to run from your place and gather him into the safety of your arms in a futile attempt to put him back together. The scene went on naturally after it was meant to finish, Sam not calling cut, and he collapsed into a heap on his knees and ripped the sketchbook before him to shreds before letting out a scream of pain that would haunt you for the rest of your days.

“Cut.”

An intern ran onto the set and handed Tom several tissues, which he took with a watery smile. Every muscle in your body tensed as you waited for Sam’s reaction.

“Reset. Tom, take a moment and collect yourself. Frank, make sure that you’re tighter on his face right after she turns him down. Lisa, good idea on the sketchbook. Get the rest that you have. Good work, people.”

Tom stood up and was instantly surrounded by hair and makeup to fix the mess that he’d made of himself with his heartfelt performance. But, over their bobbing heads, he managed to look at you and mouth, “Thank you.”

The happiness and relief that soared through your veins were more exhilarating than coffee would ever be.

~

Knock. Knock. Knock.

Your fingers stilled over your laptop, the words of your latest piece of fiction ceasing in your head at the peculiar sound. Did someone just knock on your wall? Surely the sounds of your quiet music weren’t too loud.

Knock. Knock.

Hesitantly, you twisted in your bed, pressing your ear to the thin beige wall, and rapped against it three times. When there wasn’t an answering knock, you turned around and pressed your back against your pile of pillows to continue tapping away at what you hoped could possibly be another movie brought to life.

And then the same steady knocks sounded on the door to your hotel room. Confused, you closed your laptop and set it to the side, padding to the door in your pajamas. You opened the door with a confused frown to see Tom standing on the other side, holding a covered tray from room service, exhaustion living in the slump of his shoulders and pull on the corners of his mouth.

“On occasion, I find it hard to wind down after filming. Since you’re awake, I was hoping we could share this piece of chocolate cake and chat a bit?”

Suddenly very shy at your mismatched pajamas and air-dried hair from your shower, you blushed, waving him inside. “How can I turn down cake?”

You closed the door behind him and sent a silent prayer to whoever was listening that you had remembered to pick up your dirty clothes from earlier in the day. Turning around, you found Tom sitting cross-legged on the bed, chocolate crumbs on his lips that you longed to clean with your own. “Were you writing? I can leave. I don’t want to disturb you?”

“Nonsense. The ideas are in my notes. I can always make time for you, especially if you ply me with sweets.” You crawled onto the bed next to him and snagged the fork from his hand, taking a bite. “You sure know a way to a girl’s heart.”

His face softened as he nudged your knee with his. “You think very highly of me. On that note, thank you, today, for believing in me.”

“Of course. You are the most talented man I’ve ever met. I trust your gut.”

The rest of the cake was eaten in relative silence, your eyes chasing each other in fleeting glances that had your heart racing in your chest. There was something much more intimate about sharing a dessert in your pajamas, on your bed, than your other late-night meetings in your room. Was it the electric brush of his fingers over yours when you passed the fork to him, or the knowledge that your lips were touching where his had only moments ago? Would he taste like the rich dessert you shared?

Yearning for the charismatic man had grown in you since that first meeting at his audition. How could it not? He was kind, seeking to meet and know every person he interacted with on set. You were not the exception, as your late-night meetings had proved. His intelligence knew no bounds, and you had put it to the test with rousing discussions from everything to literature to current events to Shakespeare to politics. And the fondness that you caught in his gaze from time to time set a warmth alight in your bones that you wanted to live in for the rest of your days. Every brush of his body against yours had you aware of the heat he left behind for hours, and you had long ago imprinted the feeling of his lips upon your cheek in a quick greeting kiss into your memory.

You must have been staring during your descent into your hopelessly pining thoughts, as he was watching you closely with an eyebrow quirked in silent question, when you pulled yourself from your reverie.

“Sorry,” you shook your head, blinking the madness of your wishes away. “Long day. What’d you say?”

“I said that you have a bit of chocolate on your face. Would you like me to get it for you?” he asked quietly.

He didn’t wait for an answer. His thumb brushed against your cheek, sending the smallest shiver down your spine, before he pulled the digit into his mouth. The silence that stretched beneath his darkened gaze held you frozen to the spot. Your face burned where he had fleetingly touched you.

“Were it not for professionalism…” he murmured, a hint of anguish in his voice as his eyes traveled down your face to settle on your parted lips.

How was it possible that you felt like a schoolgirl again? Your heart hammered in your chest so loudly that it seemed impossible to take a deep enough breath to stop your head from spinning. You shifted on the bed, closer to him, peering up at him through your lashes. “You’d?”

He sighed and scrubbed his hand over the back of his neck before lighting it on your face. Holding you still, he leaned forward, pressing his lips against your cheek in a lingering kiss that had your stomach clench in anticipation. Your hands dug into the scratchy duvet beneath you to keep from resting on his abdomen to see if he had the same reaction to the tension that stretched between you like a livewire.

He left one more kiss on your temple, breathing you in and stroking your jawline with his thumb, before pulling away and standing up from the bed with a groan. “You are temptation personified. It would be an injustice to us both if any romantic notions got in the way of your brilliant storytelling. After, though…”

The promise in his lowered voice and the inferno of his eyes was enough to temporarily sate you as you watched him walk out of the door with a shake of his head. Writing for that evening was out of the question as you fell asleep with the remnants of his touch warm on your skin and his cologne perfuming your sheets.

~

“Did you hear the news?”

You turned from where you were scrolling through your phone at the filming wrap party, perking up at the liquid velvet voice that broke through the terrible house music Sam had requested from the DJ. Tom leaned his shoulder against the very wall that currently propped you up, his head tilted to the side in a way that had your belly fluttering like mad.

“News?”

His hands shoved into the pockets of his navy blazer. “We’ll be on the press tour together, for the movie. The studio wanted someone paired up with you that had a bit more experience with such matters, and I volunteered. I guess you aren’t rid of me yet.”

“As if I’d want such a thing,” you admitted with a quiet laugh. Any anxieties that you'd had about making an idiot of yourself for the worldwide press tour were now replaced with doing the very same, but perhaps now you'd be caught ogling Tom while he waxed on about the movie. Or perhaps you'd simply go mad spending so much time with him in close quarters while jet setting across the globe. Was there time for romantic interludes when you were answering the same twenty questions in twenty different countries?

He stood up straight and offered his arm with a cheeky grin, “At the risk of removing the woman of the hour from the party, would you accompany me outside for a bit of fresh air?”

The mischief that twinkled in his eyes was impossible to ignore. You slipped your hand into the crook of his elbow. “Says the leading man of the movie and an actual ray of sunshine. Lead on.”

The bar that they’d rented for the evening opened out onto a busy street that replaced the booming music with honking horns and bustling crowds hurrying home. His arm fell to hang at his side, and he caught your hand with his and laced your fingers together before pulling you behind a bit of greenery out front that hid you from prying eyes both inside and outside.

“Along with attending the press tour with you, I was hoping I could accompany you to the premiere?” he asked, leaned against the roughened brick wall behind him, tugging you closer until you stood in between his spread legs. The chilled wind was most unwelcome at your back, but the warmth of the man in front of you was more than enough to make the stolen privacy comfortable.

Your free hand picked a bit of lint from his crimson sweater before stilling, connected to his ribs by just your pointer finger and thumb, drawn into his heat with the bite of the winter air through your thin party dress. “You know what they’ll say.”

Tom was an incredibly private man, and it might create more talk than he’d want to deal with to show up with a date. You’d love more than anything to spend the evening on his arm, basking in his charismatic glow, but not if it caused him any headache or heartache.

His breath, scented with bittersweet alcohol, fanned across your face as his hand settled onto your hip. That simple touch branded your goose-bump covered skin and had you leaned into him until you had to crane your head backward to meet his tender stare. “That I was chivalrous in escorting the novelist who allowed me the opportunity to embody her treasured characters? That it was very thoughtful of me to ensure that you didn’t feel tossed to the sharks for your first red carpet event?”

With just the drop of his chin, his forehead leaned against yours. “Say yes?”

The nudge of his nose along yours, the rub of his thumb over the thin skin on the back of your hand, the push of his leanly muscled chest against yours with every breath, gave you enough courage to close your eyes and touch your lips to his in the kiss that had been denied you months ago. He groaned softly into your parted lips, releasing his hold on you to press his hands over the curve of your backside so you were flush against him. Fire scorched at your insides from the tease of his tongue and you tumbled headfirst into the passion that he finally stoked to life after it had been smoldering between you for so very long.

“Yes,” you replied breathlessly against his jaw, pulling away to draw air into your tortured lungs, kneading your fingers gently over his rapidly beating heart.

Leaning against him, with his arms wrapped around you so that your face found a comfortable home in the smooth column of his throat, you closed your eyes and gave in to the enticing man that had caught your attention so very long ago. With Tom by your side, and perhaps even in your bed, you were safe in the knowledge that you wouldn’t have to navigate this new world alone.

~~

Tidbit of Tom taglist: @otakumultimuse-hiddlewhore @ladyblablabla

Whole Shebang taglist: @just-the-hiddles @yespolkadotkitty @nonsensicalobsessions @vodka-and-some-sass @he-is-chaotic-she-is-psychotic @myoxisbroken @brokenthelovely @myworddump @polireader @wiczer @littleredstarfish @the-broken-angel-13 @arch-venus25 @xxloki81xx @jessiejunebug @tinchentitri @sllooney @devilbat @vikkleinpaul​ @bouquet-o-undercaffeinated-roses​ @angelus80 @wolfsmom1 @kthemarsian​ @toozmanykids​ @claritastantrum @princerowanwhitethorngalathynius​ @sabine-leo​ @lovesmesomehiddles​ @peterman-spideyparker​ @wegingerangelica​ @bluefrenchfries604​ @catsladen @snoopy3000​ @silverswordthekilljoy​ @villainousshakespeare​ @kitkatd7​

#imagine tom hiddleston #tom hiddleston fluff #tom hiddleston/reader #tom hiddleston oneshot #tom hiddleston rpf #fluff #yespolkadotkitty #trust #hopelesswrites

[bastillewolf]

Midnight In Sheffield (II)

Pairing: Alex Turner/Reader

Summary: When a soon-to-be-wedded insomniac author heads back home to visit her parents, she comes across the likes of a mysterious musician whilst on her sleepless escapade in the AM.

Notes: I can’t thank you enough for the incredible response I’ve received for the first chapter of this story, as well as The Grand Tranquility Hotel. I’ve been stressing out a bit over an audition for a writer’s school I’m partaking in (I’ve already gotten through the first one, two more auditions to go), so all of you really kept my spirits up when I wasn’t feeling all that confident in my writing.

Also, happy Mother’s Day, mum. I love you. And to all the other mothers out there! You rock.

ANOTHER IMPORTANT NOTE: As I said before, I’m not naming specific era’s or years to describe this fic. Some parts won’t add up to the time you’re thinking of, and you’d be right. But what I say to that is; all will be explained in time.

Let me know if you’d like to be added to the tag list!

@alexbandguy86​​​ @bettyschwallocksyee​​​ @fookingsummertime​​​ @juicebox-baby​@darksydork7​​ @edgythought​ @toolateformcrtooearlytoleaveemo​

Chapter II - Arabella

“We’re not back where we started off, are we?” Mark asked, his voice laced with such a condescending tone she didn’t believe she’d ever heard either of her parents use.

As well as the fact that he said ‘we’, like it was their problem to be solved. As if he was part of her predicament, and needed to exterminate the issue as swiftly as possible.

She’d gotten to her parents’ house in the very early hours, and had manage to sleep until the late afternoon, where she’d only woken up from the incessant noise her phone had been making. It turned out she had many missed calls from her fiancée, who was pissed off, to say the very least.

“Do you know how worried I was?” He continued, when she failed to answer his previous question. “When your mum said you went out and didn’t come back, I thought you’d been kidnapped or something! I thought, someone must’ve dragged her into an alley!”

He was met with more shameful silence.

“And yet I find you perfectly fine at home, laying in bed until-“ He glanced down at his watch. “3 pm! Are you joking?! Do I have to call someone again? Or is this just some phase you’re going through, because please warn me next time!”

She spitefully gave him a side eye. “You weren’t there to warn. You were out with James.”

His eyebrows shot up. “That’s your excuse? Really?! Because I had one night out to myself you go and mess your schedule up all over again? Out of retaliation?!”

“It’s not that serious, Mark. It was one night-“

“One night makes a whole lot of a difference, you and I both know that,” he shot back, making her flinch.

“I met a few people and we went out. Make a big deal out of it, why don’t you?” She was acting childish, sure, but she was still very pissed with him over bailing out on her parents. This was just one of her ways to express it, and he quickly realized that.

“Sweetheart,” he sighed, sitting down on the bed next to her, and taking her hands in his. “Please don’t do this to yourself again, you’ve come so far.”

She pursed her lips. A small part of her wanted to let go again, just to cause him the trouble. But what kind of fiancée would that make her? Certainly, no better than him. And she’d make her own life miserable again.

It was years back when she’d fallen into a depression. Mark was at the peak of his career, and things should have been going well for them. Yet, after continuous horrid reviews on the last book she’d published – a haphazardly written piece after her last one – she didn’t know what to do with herself anymore. She wasn’t eating, she wasn’t taking care of herself, and most importantly; she wasn’t sleeping.

Mark had to take time off work to care for her, resulting in a missed promotion, and even when all of it seemed to be going okay again, the insomnia remained. She’d gone to countless doctors and therapists, but they usually only gave her countless pills that never worked. Others took the task upon themselves to over-analyse her, until her medical file was filled with mentions of personality disorders to borderline insanity.

Only recently had she been able to get her sleeping schedule back to a decent rate, and she wasn’t even sure how.

It was a gamble each time she went out now, a guess when she would slip back into her old ways of getting no rest and nearly fainting once in a while from sheer exhaustion. She knew that was Mark’s biggest fear right now, while he was at the brink of success.

Yet, it wasn’t a gamble to her anymore, because last night had been one of the most thrilling nights she’d had in years.

 She’d walked into a decently filled pub, careful not to lose Miles in the crowd of brown and black suits of the men who were there. A groovy jazz band was playing on stage, and people were swinging about with a cloud of cigarette smoke hung above them.

“I thought people weren’t allowed to smoke in pubs anymore?” She asked as they finally reached the bar. Miles gave her a strange look, before signing to the bartender for a few pints.

“I don’t know who told you that, love, but they must’ve gone mad.”

She gave him a hesitant half-smile, glancing around the place where it appeared there wasn’t a singular person – apart from her – that wasn’t holding a cigarette. Perhaps it was just good old Sheffield, and she’d been gone for too long to remember it.

“Would you mind waiting right here?” he hesitantly asked her, “I think I spotted one of the blokes through the crowd, I’m just gonna call him over.”

She shook her head, “Trying to get rid of me already? We’ve only just met.”

Miles threw her a cheeky smile in response, as he tried to manoeuvre his figure in between the mass. “Never!”

She huffed, and as he disappeared, her eyes couldn’t help but travel across the many faces in the pub. They were a merry bunch, she had to admit, with ladies clad in shimmery dresses with loads of fringes and beads, and their hair curled into a unique fashion, and men dressed in suits and hats. Though even wearing something dark herself – a skin-tight, yet simple black dress – she felt a bit out of place between the flair and elegance of the people around her.

They suddenly started clapping, as the jazz group marked the end of their song.

“And now, a round of applause for our next talent; The Strokes!”

People whistled and cheered, and the merriment continued as the new band started to jam.

“What’s a pretty lady such as yourself doing all alone?” The voice had come from behind her, and made shivers run down her spine. Not in the pleasant way.

She turned to face the man who was evidently very much leaning closer to her. “Just waiting for my fiancée to get back, I’m afraid,” she lied. Well, not necessarily a lie.

He momentarily glanced down at her left hand, as if to check if her statement was true, but still didn’t waver in his stance. “I’m sure he wouldn’t mind me keeping you company for a bit.”

“Even if he didn’t mind, I definitely would,” she retaliated, making his eyebrows shoot up in surprise, before they furrowed again, and she knew then she’d made a dangerous move.

A hand touched her shoulder. Fuck, she should’ve known he wasn’t by himself.

“Love, are you alright? I’ve been looking all over for you.”

Wait, what?

He had his hair styled in a fashion she recognized was heavily inspired by the fifties, and his eyes were as brown as dark chocolate. Yet his features were sharp, and the leather jacket he wore made him look anything but boyish. A cigarette hung from hip lips, which he took a deep drag of as he met her gaze.

She quickly took notice of the message.

“I-I’m fine, thank you,” she replied.

“Yeah mate, I was just keeping her company for a bit,” the other man explained, though his voice held nothing but audaciousness.

Brown eyes narrowed, while he took the smoke from his mouth. “I’m not your mate. Now piss off, or I’m gonna have to make things ugly in front of the lady.”

She was sure the man would’ve raised his fist in response, yet a look from the bartender had him second guess, and he left in a moment’s notice.

“Uh, thank you,” she could only bring about, still ridiculously flabbergasted by the entire situation. She couldn’t remember the last time a man had ever tried to be so dominant towards her, let alone now that she had a ring on her finger.

“Don’t worry about it,” he replied, “Though I should warn you next time not to leave your fiancée’s side. This is a good pub, but I can’t say the same for every single person in here.”

She politely introduced herself, and thanked him once again, which he shrugged off. Though he didn’t give her his name. “Where’s your bloke anyways? Been gone a bit too long, hasn’t he?”

It was then that Miles reappeared, and both men almost automatically raised their brows. One in greeting, and one in utter and befuddled confusion.

“Alex!”

“The fuck?”

“I was looking all over the place for you-“

“When were you gonna tell me you were engaged, mate?”

Now, both pairs of eyes held questions, until Miles took notice of her and quickly realized what was going on, and started laughing, which the man called Alex didn’t find amusing at all, to say the least. “I’m not engaged, you thickhead. I only just met her on the street. She’s not all that familiar around, so I thought I might show her the best pub in town.”

“Not familiar, eh?” he gazed at her questioningly, before his eyes roamed across her figure, taking in everything she was.

“Yeah, thought it best to keep her company before someone else tried to snatch her.”

Though feeling slightly uncomfortable by the piercing orbs taking in every little detail, she was grateful Miles didn’t mention he’d found her crying. She gave him a small smile, to which he winked.

“Hm,” Alex finally said, as if making a conclusion to his deductions, “I knew it couldn’t be true. She’s too much of an Arabella to be seen knocking about with the likes of you.”

“Oi!” Miles squeaked in protest, “Aren’t you supposed to be on stage or summat?”

Alex smirked, and quietly wandered off. She only noticed him again when he was standing on the raised platform with an electric guitar in his hands, and he quickly signed them towards an empty table up front.

“Can I ask you something?” she said as they took their seats and a few men joined the musician on stage.

“Anything.”

“What did he mean by ‘Arabella’?”

Miles snorted, “You should feel honoured, really. I rarely ever hear him call a girl that, and if you weren’t wearing that ring, I’m sure he would’ve made it very clear what he meant by it.”

“Oh,” she simply said, feeling her face flush.

 “Arabella's got some interstellar-gator skin boots

And a Helter Skelter 'round her little finger and I ride it endlessly

She's got a Barbarella silver swimsuit

And when she needs to shelter from reality she takes a dip in my daydreams…”

 “…Are you even listening to me?”

She snapped out of her daze, and met Mark’s eyes again. “I’m sorry, alright? You just have to promise to trust me that it won’t happen again. I know that’s a lot to ask, but I need this right now. Please?”

He sighed deeply, and took a bit to calculate the premise in his mind.

“Alright. I promise. Now can we please go and have brunch? I’m starving.”

Happy 2nd birthday to Tranquility Base Hotel & Casino.

#Arctic Monkeys #Arctic Monkeys Fanfic #Alex Turner Fanfic #Alex Turner #Alex Turner x Reader #Alex Turner/Reader #The Last Shadow Puppets #TLSP #AM #Wpsiatwin #Humbug #TBHC #Matt Helders #Jamie Cook #Fwn #Miles Kane #Nick O'Malley #Suck It And See #Midnight In Sheffield

[intrepidmare]

JAIME x BRIENNE FIC EXCHANGE RECOMMENDATIONS

Well, I have read about half of the fics in the @jaime-brienne-fic-exchange and these are my favorites so far. Seriously, guys, if you haven't read any of these stories already, you must! It's incredible how much talent is in this fandom. 

PS: I don't know/couldn't find everyone's Tumblr, either because they have a different username than on ao3 or don't have a blog here. If you recognize someone else's or your own work that I didn't @, please let me know and I'll edit it 😊

Let me begin with the fics with a love that transcends time and death.

(The first is the story that was written for me!! Please, guys, go, read it, and give some love to the extremely talented writer that came up with it! Words fail me to explain how amazing this fic is. Go read it and then you'll thank me for the rec.)

This is where we start again by @forbiddenfantasies1    

Explicit | chapters 8/8 | 40.7k words | past life au, modern setting, canon compliant

Brienne and Jaime had never met, but when they come together to work on a new project, they realize their connection may have been generations in the making.

Or in which Jaime and Brienne meet, begin having flashbacks to their ancestors lives, and are forced to figure out where they went wrong before they can determine how to make it right.

This life and the next by atomsandfairies    

Teen and up | chapters 6/6 | 8.2k words | historical setting, modern au

“Do you ever wonder how old our souls are? How many times we have missed and met? How many times we have come together?”

The questions have turned themselves over in her again and again, as long as they’ve been together, before he’s asked, before they’d even found each other.

There is a familiarity between them that seems too old for their time together.

Angstfest addicts, these are for you. Get ready to get beaten with feels. Don't worry, despite heartbreak along the way, all ends well.

My honor in your hands by @aviss    

General | one-shot | 2.8k words | hurt/comfort, missing scene, book canon

Jaime lasts the better part of a day before the silence gets to him.

By hearts and hands made fast by anonymous  

Mature | chapters 4/? | 10.1k words | 8x04 canon divergence, secret marriage 

»But he’d held her wrist even then, thumb stroking, Marry me, he’d said, marry me and never acknowledge it if you do not wish, but marry me as I should have married you that night and every other. If I’m to die, he’d said (with her, he had not), let me die as your husband.«

A grand romantic gesture has repercussions neither Jaime nor Brienne had foreseen.

Lies in the darkness by aleighcarlisle    

Mature | one-shot | 4.4k words | angst, hurt/comfort

"Hurt me with the truth, but never comfort me with a lie."

Man With a heartbeat by @sigilbroken        

Explicit | chapters 5/5 | 25.5k words | modern au

Angst is not your cup of tea? No problem. You should try the following. Only laughter, happy feelings ahead.

This one last thing by @aliveanddrunkonsunlight

Mature | One-shot | 13.3k words | Canon compliant, Post-ADWD, bed-sharing

Most tasks needed of a knight, he has been able to adapt to with only one hand, but he struggles with striking flint in order to start a fire. It would be easier if she was here.

Jaime and Brienne journey to the Vale.

What loves you back by @bookishpower    

Teen and up | one-shot | 11k words | fairytale-ish, post-canon

A retelling, and a continuation. Jaime learns the great lesson of his life.

That Would Be Enough by forpeaches (bluecarrots)

Mature | One-shot | 2.2k words | Canon compliant, Post-ADWD

Jaime, pining.

The unwitting third wheel by @nightreaderenigma (I should've known this was you!)  

Mature | chapters 4/4 | 17.8 k words | post-ADWD, canon compliant

Whilst recovering on the Quiet Isle, Podrick develops a crush on his mentor and heroine, Lady Brienne. The only hiccup in his bubble of infatuation is their new travelling companion – Ser Jaime Lannister. Because even though M’Lady Ser and the Golden Knight argue, there seems to be a bond between them he can’t quite place…

Warm by @angel-deux-writes      

Teen and up | one-shot | 13.5k words | canon divergence

Before the battle against the dead, Jaime volunteers for a routine patrol with Brienne to try and get some time to talk with her about why she has been avoiding him since he arrived at Winterfell. When a storm catches them unexpectedly when they're still far from the castle, they find a cave to hole up in for the night.

Way enough by laihiriel

Mature | chapters 3/5 | 10.8k words | modern setting, sports au

Brienne had forgotten how much she loved being out on the water. Joining the local boathouse and sitting in a scull again after her accident was the best thing she could have done for herself.

Because of you (i took my time to come around) by Weboury 

Teen and up | chapters 4/4 | 14.7k words | Modern setting, road trip, bed-sharing

Jaime, curator at the Tully Museum, wants to spend more time with Brienne, and maybe finally work around telling her how he feels about her. When Brienne, a historian, is tasked with retrieving the legendary sword Widow’s Wail from King’s Landing, Jaime thinks it’s the perfect time to put a plan in motion, only to find himself with Brienne and his cousin Cleos on an awkward road trip across the Riverlands. And then a goat shows up.

Kaleidoscope sky by allison_wonderland      

General | one-shot | 1k | modern au, carnivals

A terrible day, an unexpected stop, and drifting closer together.

Backpfeifengesicht by @samirant        

Explicit | one-shot  | 18.8 k words | modern au, enemies to friends to lovers

Backpfeifengesicht

(German) n. a face badly in need of a fist

See pictured: Jaime Lannister.

Brienne, Jaime and the Accidental marriage by @angel-deux-writes  

Teen and up | One-shot | 10k words | modern setting, reporter au 

Best friends, co-workers, and roommates Brienne and Jaime were supposed to head to Greywater Watch to cover a local festival for the newspaper at which they both work. They were NOT supposed to get married while they were there.  

Those who seek to find by @ice-connoisseur  

Teen and up | one-shot | 22.3k words | Jumanji au

But anyway, that was how it started: Arya found the game, and Sansa rolled the dice.

When you play the game of Jumanji, you win or you die.

In better light by winterkill   

Mature | one-shot | 17.7k words | canon divergence, post-ASOS

Perhaps Cersei was right, and every ounce of sense and bravery Jaime possessed was lost with his hand. Sansa Stark is my last chance for honor. He really said that to her? Brienne latched onto the sentiment like a hunting hound to the scent of its quarry. 

Before dawn, Jaime rises from his bed, wide awake and with a sense of renewed purpose.

I’m going to go with her.

If you're looking for adventures a little outside of the law, check these out  

Codename: kingslayer by libkat 

Mature | one-shot | 2.4k words | modern au, thief au

The world's greatest jewel thief is after his biggest score when he encounters his toughest opponent, who might also be the love of his life.

The Knight and the thief By @ddagent (this is the only one I guessed the author right. I knew it was you, Kelly) 

Teen and up | one-shot | 3.6k words | Modern au, burglar au, hurt/comfort

Jaime Lannister is rich, handsome – and a jewel thief. His next target is the home of Brienne Tarth, where he might finally find something worth stealing.

Last but not least, for those who like to hang out with creatures of the night, this one is for you

Into the spider's web by @jailynnW   

Teen and up | one-shot | 4.5k words | vampire au

Jaime has been a Vampire for centuries, dancing in and out of the grasp of his hunter. Brienne is tasked with taking down the Kingslayer. A mission that brings her more than she bargained for...

Hmm, it doesn't look bad that I'm going to do shameless self-promotion now that I've recommended the work of others, right? You know what? I don't care if it does. So here it is the one I wrote 😊

Made for you by me (Mare9548 on Ao3)

Teen and up | chapters 4/4 | 9.6k words | modern setting, arranged marriage

Despite his reluctance to get married, Jaime Lannister is having dinner with his future wife tonight. Quite a surprise he gets when he meets the woman that his father has chosen for him.

I'll come back later with more recs once I've gone through the rest of the amazing stories in the collection.

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More recs

#fanfic recommendation #braime #jaime x brienne fic exchange #braime fic