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acourtofsnakes · 3 years

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Haran - Rogue, Chapter 8 | The Mandalorian x Force Sensitive! Reader (f)

Summary: The Mandalorian tries to get back on with his normal routine without you. So he decided to go visit Peli on the quiet, almost deserted planet of Tatooine. Where he will meet no one of interest or danger. At all.

Warnings: Hmm, not many. Some light swearing and mentions of death briefly.

Word count: Around 7139

AN: I’m not sure if everything I wrote about Tatooine is strictly ‘correct’, so forgive me if not!

As always, credit to whoever owns the gif. I usually find them on Google or Pinterest, so message me if it’s yours ♥︎

Rogue Taglist: @snipskixandbeskar @weirdowithnobeardo @the-bottom-of-the-abyss @jackgrzs @sarahjkl82-blog @boomtownboy

Mando’a translation: Haran – Hell

The Mandalorian watched you walk away.

He watched your figure retreat further and further into the distance, each step taking you closer to Nevarro, and further away from him and the kid. He watched until he could see you no more, then sighed, murmuring to Grogu and returning to the cockpit to leave.

And it hurt.

He knew it would, he wasn’t stupid. He just hadn’t expected it to hurt so very much. Didn’t expect that it would feel like you’d wrenched his heart from beneath his armour and took it with him.

He hadn’t even hugged you. Touch like that was rare for Mandalorians, wasn’t considered… ‘normal.’

But when had your… friendship... ever been ‘normal’? You’d started off as hunter and prey, for Maker’s sake. He’d hunted you down and took you onto his ship with every intention of delivering you to the new Client and being on his merry way.

Only, you were different. You didn’t shy away from him. You didn’t cower or beg for your life. You were cocky, inappropriate and had a silver-tongue and knew how to use it. You got under his skin and drove him insane.

But… he’d laughed more times with you than he had with anyone that wasn’t the kid.

You made him feel… less alone. And he’d hoped he’d done the same for you

Then you’d saved his life.

And he’d realised just how much he had come to adore your presence and your company.

As cliché as it sounded, it was like having a little bit of sunlight in his ship.

Well, no. That might not be the right analogy. You weren’t just sunlight. You weren’t just a flame; you were a blaze.

You burned brighter than anyone he had ever met, determined not to be dragged down by your past. Your anger was a storm, ravaging everything it came near, with all the force of a tempest. He’d borne the brunt of it enough times in the few months he had been together.

But you had a light inside you, a thirst to see the good in the world, the beauty no matter how dark it may have appeared. He admired that about you. There was a word for it in Mando’a. Shereshoy; a lust for life.

The last argument you’d had… He knew from the moment you ran from the market, that you would lash out. He didn’t know how, but he’d seen the shift in your eyes, seen the way that fire had blazed – only to gutter out into consuming darkness.

It had flickered as you had yelled at each other, and when he saw it go black, saw darkness cloud over and suck you into the depths, he’d dived right in after you.

It had been instinct to run to you, catch you in his arms and let you both sink down together. Only he held you from being pulled too deep.

And you’d let him.

The moment you’d let go and curled into his body, was the moment he felt everything change.

It had broken a gate within him. A carefully and purposely crafted wall of adamant in his mind that held back the force of everything he shouldn’t feel.

It was why he’d done what he did the other night.

He’d been on the hunt, tracking the bounty. It was an easy one, so easy he didn’t even really need to think about it. Which of course, left his mind open to wandering.

And it kept coming back to you, over and over again.

What you were doing, if you were okay, if the ship was too hot for you and if he’d set the locks correctly.

He always had the same thoughts whenever he left the kid, but with you there, they had eased. He’d trusted you from that first night you sung Grogu your mother’s lullaby.

So that didn’t plague him.

No, it was your hair that was the main subject tonight. That damn hair that he couldn’t take his eyes off of since the moment you’d let it down a couple of days ago.

The light had caught it just right, turning it to gold and when you ran your hands through it…

He’d been struck with a craving so intense; it took his breath away.

He yearned to move away your hands, replace them with his own.

To shuck off his gloves and truly feel the silky texture of it, to feel anything but the worn leather interior of the material.

He couldn’t have been more relieved when you’d landed on the desert planet. He had though that the Maker had taken pity on him, saving him before he could do something really stupid.

The distraction had remained with him throughout his hunt, sneaking up on him whenever he should be at least trying to concentrate.

By the time he’d caught the bounty and had begun to lug him back to the Crest, his body had begun to itch. Less of a persistent irritation and more of a yearning. At first, he’d thought it was from the heat, but when he’d climbed the ramp to the Crest, he could smell the lingering aroma of the soap you’d used in your shower.

He’d quickly dispatched of the bounty in the carbonite chamber, eager to escape to the small storage compartment he had now taken up residence in.

He hadn’t bothered to take back his sleeping quarters, something in him wanting to give you that small bit of comfort. Besides, he’d slept in worse places.

He’d retreated there after a brief conversation with yourself, trying to clear his mind as he lay on the collection of blankets and sacks that he’d made up for his bed and waited for his body to relax and sleep to claim him. Eventually, it had.

It wasn’t Grogu’s crying that awoke him that night, as it normally would.

No, it was that damn smell.

It had filtered through his helmet, invading his sleep and gently tugged him awake.

He’d sat up and without a thought, followed that scent like a hound.

It had led him to the kitchen and then…

Then he’d seen you.

In that flimsy drape of fabric that could hardly call itself a dress.

There was just… so much of your skin on show. So much of your smooth skin on display, lined with scars here and there but it didn’t matter to him. It told your story, your survival

The Mandalorian’s own body had tightened, heat blazing across his skin and making his armour uncomfortable. He rarely acknowledged the heaviness of it, but standing there, looking at you, had truly made him feel the crushing weight.

And when you’d turned, the water rolling down your neck…

The image of removing his helmet and catching that bead of water on his tongue, of trailing it up your neck and finally tasting your skin that he knew would be as sweet as your scent.. it nearly undid him.

In fact, it did. It broke a restraint in him and set a haze in his mind that cleared only when the beeping of the autopilot had demanded his attention.

He’d sat up in the cockpit for hours afterward, staring at his now gloved hands.

He had touched you. He had removed his gloves in the presence of someone else, trusting in you not to turn around. He’d felt you.

Felt that gorgeous, silky hair on his fingers.

Felt the bumps of your spine beneath your skin.

The noises you’d made, the sighs and the moans, they were branded into his memory, followed him when he finally went back to bed.

They’d echoed in his ears, playing over and over until his trousers had become even more painfully tight and he was forced to fix the problem.

The next day, the pleasure and breathless thrill of what had occurred went stale. It turned into shame, disgust at himself for treating you like that, thinking of you like that in the late hours.

The snide voice in his head had whispered that it was time, time to invoke what he already planned when he was out on his hunt.

And like a cowardly fool, he gave in.

The betrayal and hurt in your eyes when he’d told you had been like a punch to his heart.

He’d been battered in fights and that hurt less.

Hurt less than this pain as he re-joined the atmosphere above Nevarro and moved the ship away.

Was he making a mistake? Should he have kept you with him? OR stayed with you, even just for a little while longer? But what if someone had caught up to you or spotted you and gave you up. There would be no telling who would-

Ping!

A metallic note on the back of his helmet snapped him from his frantic thoughts, echoing in the confines of his helmet. It had come from Grogu’s direction.

He turned around, looking at what it was… and saw Grogu’s ball on the floor.

“Hey, kid, what are you doing?”

An angry gurgle emanated from the little green creature, waving his arms in the air and his face full of disdain.

Mando sighed, “Look, I know you’ll miss her, but we have to do this, okay?”

Grogu only waved his hands again, and suddenly the ball was flying through the air, bouncing off of his visor before rolling along the cockpit again.

“Hey!! Now you decide to use your powers? That’s enough. This has to happen.” He pointed a finger at Grogu.

Which just made the kid burst into tears and scream.

Loudly.

Mando swore under his breath, pulling him out of his crib and plonking him down on his lap. He turned back to the front of the ship, one hand holding the back of the kid’s head, the other piloting the ship, “Hey, hey… look, I’m sorry but… she had to leave. It wasn’t safe for her to stay with us..”

Grogu just wailed more, his little fists thumping into Mando’s belly. He was not happy with his father, and seemed intent on letting him know that.

He sighed, letting Grogu pummel him. After all, his little hands barely made an impact, and it just reminded him painfully of that night in the cargo hold, where you fought him and broke down. He switched the ship to autopilot, tilting his head down to give Grogu his full attention. “Grogu.”

More wailing, the little tyke was determined not to pay attention.

“Cmon, Grogu. Look at me.”

Grogu’s head shook rapidly from side to side, his little body shaking with sobs.

“Not even for cookies?”

A pause. A questionable gurgle replacing the wailing.

Mando couldn’t help the smile on his face behind the helmet, “Ah, see, I knew that would get your attention. If you look at me, I’ll let you have the pack.” It was bad parenting, not to mention bribery and he knew that. But anything to stop Grogu being upset – and to convince himself he’d done the right thing. “Just look at me, okay? And listen..”

Grogu lifted his head up, looking up at his father with glossy, tear filled eyes.

Mando felt his heart break a little, and he gently wiped the tears from Grogu’s cheek with the back of his little finger, “I know you’re mad at me, and I completely understand why. But… there are so many people after her. After us as well.”

Grogu listened intently, little snuffly breaths rising from him now and then as a result of the previous tears.

The Mandalorian reached across to a little box beside him, pulling out a package of the blue space cookies. He unwrapped them as he spoke, “The people that are after us all might start to work together. They might think that... if they can get to one of us, they can get all of us.” He pulled out a cookie, then held it out to the kid. “Everyone knows that I threw away the tracking fob. And that will draw more attention.”

Grogu took the cookie, biting it and his head tilted as he let his father speak, munching away.

Mando leaned back in his seat, head still tilted down to watch, “If they find us… they find her. Any of the bounties I catch could turn, like that guy before with the tail. So.. if she goes to Nevarro… She can blend in and hide. Cara and Greef will monitor anyone coming in. They’ll keep her safe and steer away any authorities or hunters. She’ll be safer there than she will with us… and if we need to, I can draw away any hunters who think we’re all still together.”

Grogu’s ears sagged a little, a softer coo rising from him that flung a few tiny blue crumbs onto his fathers lap.

Mando huffed a slight laugh, shaking his head a little, “Messy.” He brushed a few more crumbs from Grogu’s mouth, “Do you understand though? Why I had to do it?”

The kid nodded, though he still looked sad.

The Mandalorian held him closer, “I know, kid. I wish we didn’t have to do it either.”

The rest of the day passed uneventfully. Just travelling to Tatooine. His ship needed repairing, and the Mandalorian hadn’t met with Peli for a long while.

And… maybe something in him was craving the comfort of… a friend?

Besides, the kid loved her too and he wanted to cheer him up.

He would see if the sparse planet had any extra work for him. He doubted it, the cantinas were rarely ever half full, but it didn’t hurt to try. He needed something to keep his mind occupied and away from thinking of a particular cocky, snarky, gorgeous companion.

When he was close, he set the ship to autopilot, the display on the panel and his internal body clock telling him it was time to sleep.

He scooped up Grogu, who had been playing with his ball, “C’mon, kid. Time for bed. You can come with me tonight.”

The Mandalorian made his way to the little area that had become his bedroom. He looked down at the pile of blankets on the floor, pausing.

Maybe he should return to his bed. The floor was wreaking havoc on his already aching back, and it was cold on the floor.

He sighed, taking way too long to think about it, before returning back up to his sleeping compartment, pressing the pad on the wall to open it.

Fuck.

The entire compartment smelt like you. It hit him as soon as the door slid open, wafting under his helmet and filling his head with your scent. He swallowed back a soft groan, made his body move across the room. He didn’t need this. He needed sleep. He needed to focus.

Mando walked across the room and set Grogu laying down closest to the wall, before sliding in and manoeuvring his clunky body and armour into the bed too.

It was stronger here, the smell of your perfume. If he closed his eyes, maybe he could imagine you were there with him. Tucked up against him, sleeping deeply and evenly.

He sighed, pulling the blankets over Grogu’s body and then his own, images swirling through his mind, the same ones that taunted him every night when he tried to sleep. He tried not to feel them, the thoughts that relentlessly filled his mind. It had made him restless, made his inhibitions low – hence why he’d found you in the kitchen, unable to hold back on the things he wanted to do and say.

Mando said quietly after a while, rubbing Grogu’s ears, “You really liked her, huh?”

Grogu cooed, nodding his head a little before tilting it into his father’s touch.

Mando sighed softly, resting his head on the pillow again and closing his eyes, “Me too, kid… Me too.” He allowed himself to inhale deeply, let that scent envelope him and lull him into sleep.

“Oh, thank the Force!! You’re still alive! Come here you little womp rat!”

Peli’s excited exclamation was broken only by Grogu’s delighted squeal as he tottered over to her, arms outstretched and making grabby hands.

Mando smiled behind his helmet. He knew coming here was the right thing to do. Grogu adored Peli, and hopefully this would cheer him up somewhat. He looked at Peli, the raised eyebrow evident in his voice as he leant against the side of his ship, “Did you expect us not to be?”

Peli scooped Grogu up, holding him close after inspecting his body for injuries or hurts. “Are you blind, boy? Everyone is out looking for you. They know what you did, even out here. The droids picked up chatter from the town. Word is, they increased the bounty on your head and doubled the girls.”

Mando stood up straight quickly, “They’ve doubled her bounty?! That’s… That’s ridiculous. It was already the highest I’ve seen.”

Peli narrowed her eyes, watching his reaction. “So, it’s true then. You kept another bounty. I didn’t know Mandalorian’s liked to collect things so much.” Her voice was a little disapproving, but she motioned for Mando to follow her. “You shouldn’t be taking such stupid risks, Mando. You’ve got a child to look after. Harbouring criminals isn’t the way to do that.”

The words left his mouth like an instinct, “She’s not a criminal.” He followed her though, his boots scuffing up dust on the floor.

Peli looked over her shoulder at him, her own eyebrows raised this time, “Oh? She’s not? So that bounty fell on her accidentally did it? Look, if we heard of her all the way out here, she must have truly done something b-“

“She is not a criminal, Peli.” He tried to rein in the steel in his voice. Peli was just looking out for Grogu, and for him. But something about her tone had struck a nerve, reminded him of the own conclusions he had jumped to, and how badly it had hurt you.

Peli didn’t even bother to turn around as she walked into the hangar, “And how do you know that? She tell you what she’s being hunted for?” She shifted Grogu to her other arm and pointed at the droids that rolled past her on their way to the ship, “Careful with those parts.”

Mando swallowed, hesitating as he looked back at the droids and then back toward Peli, following her to her desk area. “No. She didn’t. But I just know.” He sunk into a chair, picking up something from the desk and fiddling with it.

Peli watched the movement, assessing him and she just hummed as she sat down herself, Grogu on her lap. “Look. What you do, who you meet and decide to put in your band of rogues is none of my concern. Hell, we know nothing about each other. But you have to remember, this child is still wanted by Moff Gideon. You’re still wanted by both sides. You need to be careful.” Her voice was firm, but there was a note of softness there that you had to look to find, but it was there all the same. “I assume she’s in that ship of yours hiding? You can bring her out. I won’t bite her.”

Mando swallowed, his words becoming a little difficult and he had to pause again, “No. She’s not there. I… we parted ways.”

Peli frowned, looking down at Grogu who had turned his head to her, cooing. His ears had flopped a little again, but he didn’t contest the fact. She made a thoughtful noise again, “Parted ways?”

Mando sighed silently, wanting to take the subject away from you, the pain in his chest, “How has business been?”

She blinked, then burst out laughing, “Business? Are you actually pulling a joke on me, Mandalorian? Do you see any business here? Tatootine is just as quiet as it was the last time you were here. Why? Looking for a job?”

Mando shrugged, setting down the object he’d been playing with, “It wouldn’t hurt to get some extra credits.”

Peli tilted her head thoughtfully, “Well, I can’t promise anything. But there have been a few new stragglers coming through the town lately. Some hunters, smugglers and the like. One of them might have something you can do. I wouldn’t rely on it though.”

He nodded, grateful for the chance to go and do something. Even if it was just walking into town, being told no, and heading back again. “Great. I’ll check it out in a bit.”

She wasn’t listening. She’d already diverted all of her attention back to Grogu, cooing at him and pulling faces.

Tatooine was just as dry, dusty and barren as it was the last time the Mandalorian had set foot here. Its inhabitants were scattered throughout the towns, which were dotted few and far between, though there were a handful more inhabitants here in Mos Eisley. It ws one of the larger spaceports, so had a little more traffic.

It was still almost deserted though.

You didn’t often see people or creatures in the streets, as the sun beating down was too much sometimes even for those that called the desert planet home. They also seemed to know when sandstorms were coming – which were often. Maybe there was another on its way. There was a wild wind brewing, stirring the sand.

There weren’t many out today, maybe driven inside by the relentless sun, though a cluster had gathered here, in Chalmun’s Spaceport Cantina.

It was a roughly hewn building on the outside, the same colour as the dusty ground. It was small, but its thick walls provided a natural shade, cool and dim out of the sun.

Mando ducked under the upper threshold as he stepped inside, ignoring the glances and muttering that occurred whenever he walked into a place. Even if he hadn’t been clad in shiny – albeit rather dusty – beskar, he still would have garnered the attention, simply for being a Mandalorian.

He was used it to by now, but it did still make him feel uncomfortable sometimes.

He surveyed the room, then walked to the bar, which provided the main source of light in the centre of the room. The atmosphere seemed…calm, though that could change at the drop of a hat and the bar could erupt into one of it’s famous brawls.

The last time he’d set foot in this particular cantina, he’d helped a young bounty hunter… who’d turned traitor.

He would try to avoid that this time. He only wanted a job. No help.

The Mandalorian tapped the bar to gain the attention of the barman, “Hey. Anyone come through here with bounty pucks?”

The barman paid him no attention, continuing to serve the customer, a pilot by the looks of his jumpsuit.

Mando frowned behind his helmet, “No?” He was hot, a little agitated and he missed you. So his temper wasn’t the greatest.

The barman snapped, “No. Come back tomorrow, maybe there’ll be a line of people waiting to fall at your shiny feet.” He looked at Mando in disgust then walked to the other end of the bar to serve.

Mando sighed, counting to ten his mind. He needed a job. He would just have to keep trying.

And so, he did. Over the next three days, he went back again and again. And every day, he would come home with nothing.

Each night, Peli would tell him over dinner that it was because of the approaching storm. That there would be more people once it had cleared.

The third night, the storm finally rolled in.

Mando was already awake, the lack of distraction meaning his thoughts were spiralling again, so he was conscious when the howling wind roared to life, bringing with it waves and waves of sand.

He spent the night watching the wind move like it was an animal, unleashed from its cage to be free. It didn’t sound angry. It sounded mournful. Like it was tearing through the town looking for something, for someone.

Mando couldn’t help but relate.

The storm stayed for another four days. Endless howling of the wind, the cold chill it brought of a night, so different to the scorching wind of the days.

Luckily, it gave the Mandalorian something to do. He secured his ship when the wind had died down a little, making sure there were no gaping holes or anything that could get damaged should the wind change direction.

As much as he didn’t like droids, he had to admit that Peli’s did a pretty good job.

After that, she had him clearing out any of her gear and belongings that were outside.

Which meant hauling in all the nearby boxes and making sure the droids didn’t roll out and get buffeted and dragged away by the wind.

When that was done, he was to spend his time clearing away the dust and sand that blew in through the openings.

Peli told him she couldn’t work in a messy environment, but the scattered parts, oily rags and various paraphernalia dotted around would have him beg to differ.

Still, it gave him a way to keep his mind busy.

However, the jobs and handy work he did for her didn’t stop him from watching the storm every night, or from checking Peli’s rusty but still operational tablet for updates on the atmospheric pressure.

…

The morning of the fifth day dawned bright and scalding.

The storm was gone, reduced to a few gusts of heavy wind here and there, but nothing like the raging force of the past four days.

The heat was even more oppressive than usual, like the wind had sucked any minuscule ounce of coolness from the air and left it feeling like fire in the lungs.

Peli told him he was stupid, that the town would be deserted. She was even more annoyed when he informed her that he was taking Grogu. He had been penned inside for four days and was starting to act as stir crazy as Mando felt.

Peli yelled at him, even threatened to take apart his ship but he respectfully ignored her and made the trek anyway. Even if every step in the blazing heat made it feel like his armour was melting to his body. He’d popped Grogu into his crib, to spare him from the scorching air.

Why did he decided to come to another desert planet?

Maybe he would go somewhere cold next.

Yeah, that sounded like a good idea. Somewhere where he could take a breath of chilled, icy air. Somewhere he could show Grogu the snow..

~“Snow and ice are stunning. They’re powerful and strong. I’ve only ever been in a proper snowfall once, and I fell in love. The way the flakes float down and.. dance even if there’s the faintest breeze. And then when they land on your skin or your eyelashes like little cold kisses… The sound it makes under your boots when you walk on a fresh fall. And it softens everything, makes it easier on your eyes to see across the landscape… it’s quiet, muffled…”~

Mando’s heart wrenched as he remembered your words, the way your face lit up and your eyes danced as you described the feeling of snow on your skin. He swallowed, shaking his head free of the memory and walking into the cantina, Grogu’s crib floating along with him.

The barman sneered at him, “What, no questions today?”

Mando just shook his head, ordering a bowl of cold broth for the kid and then he retreated to a table in the corner, sinking into his seat.

Maker, he was tired. So, so tired. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had a proper sleep and it was beginning to catch up with him now.

The tiredness, mixed with the physical work of the past few days was getting to him. His back ached and his shoulders were constantly tense with the weight of his armour. He wasn’t a young man anymore, things had started to niggle and irritate more than usual.

The quiet ambiance of the cantina and the soft slurps of Grogu enjoying his broth were beginning to lull the Mandalorian into sleep. His body relaxed into the hard bench seat, his eyes began to close behind the helmet, no matter how hard he fought it.

Maybe he could just close his eyes for a moment… just to rest..

It wasn’t until Grogu’s sharp warning cry echoed through the fog in his brain, that he realised he’d actually fallen asleep. His head shot up from where it had rested on his chest, adrenaline shooting through his body so fast it made him dizzy. His hand had flown to the blaster on his hip by instinct, and he looked around rapidly for the cause of Grogu’s cry.

And then he found it.

Sitting opposite him and the kid, was a male figure, draped in an expensive looking black cloak that was embroidered with golden thread. The hilt of an ancient blade protruded above broad shoulders, sheathed down the figure’s spine. The cloak hid anything on the figures body, but Mando knew it was lined with weapons.

The male figure had an elbow on the table, a long arm propped up with his hand disappearing into the darkness of his hood where he presumably had his chin resting.

He knew that this man was a hunter.

A predator.

He could sense the coiled energy slumbering within the relaxed stance, just knew that the heavy material of his cloak hid an arsenal of weapons.

That and the fact he could see the faint outline of a knife hidden within the man’s sleeve.

The Mandalorian straightened, alertness flooding every single sense, along with the anger at his own sheer stupidity for falling asleep. He reached out, pulling Grogu off of the table and back into his crib in one fluid movement, shielding it between his body and the wall behind him.

He might have chosen a corner table, might be backed into that corner, but at least no one could get the jump on him from behind.

Mando had already marked the exists and potential attack points the first time he’d come here, so he didn’t need to worry about those.

He was in the process of trying to spot any tells on his new acquaintance, when the figure laughed.

A laugh like silk, flowing over the skin. A laugh that was designed to draw you in, to caress you and seduce you.

The voice was the same. Low, with a rich baritone like velvet that slid over the Mandalorian’s bones, “Relax. You don’t need to go on the offence, Mandalorian. Though I know that might be hard for you.” He was grinning under that hood, and Mando could almost imagine a set of fangs to match the voice, itching to sink into flesh.

“Don’t I?” The Mandalorian’s voice was hard, cold. He needed to get out of here… but something was making him curious about who this shadowy figure was, something niggling at the back of his mind like he knew.

The figure shrugged, an easy gesture, “Nope. Trust me, if I wanted you dead, you wouldn’t have woken up from your little nap there. I could have killed you and that Peli woman during the storm and hung your skins out as wind gauges.”

He knew who Peli was? Who was he?

The Mandalorian said nothing. He supposed someone from the town could have spotted him staying at Peli’s. He’d have to leave. He didn’t want her getting hurt because of him.

The man laughed again, set Mando’s teeth on edge, “Honestly, Mando. Are you always wound this tight? No wonder you don’t sleep.” He dropped his hand, resting both forearms on the table and lacing his fingers together. They were clad in fine leather gloves, perfectly snug to his hands. “I won’t kill your little friend either, I promise. I’m here on business.” He paused, “Acceptable business, if you could call it that. Not my usual or favoured type of business, mind you.”

Mando kept his hand on his blaster, kept his other arm held slightly out in case Grogu’s crib was on display. It was only then that he’d noticed the entire cantina had emptied out. It was just the three of them. How long was he asleep?

“What business would that be? I don’t exactly fall into the ‘acceptable business’ category myself.” He couldn’t keep the snideness out of his tone.

The figure leaned into his hands, no ounce of light creeping past the hood. There was nothing there, just heavy darkness shrouding his face. “I need you to find someone for me. I’ve been tasked by someone supposedly important to bring them in, and I heard you’re almost as good as me.”

Mando had a feeling he knew where this was going. “And who am I helping you bring in? I don’t have sidekicks.”

The figure snorted, like Mando’s words amused him, “You think I’d be your sidekick? Please. You’ve been living with your head in that bucket too long. You obviously don’t know who I am.” He might have shaken his head beneath the heavy cloak, “I digress. Here is the person I want you to help me find.” He slid a puck onto the table, “I think you’ll be able to help. I’d be happy to split the reward in half with you. It would be enough for you to take your little one to one of those sanctuary planets.”

He didn’t want to press that puck. He didn’t want to reveal what he already knew. “Sorry. I just remembered. I’m busy.” He made to rise from his chair.

The figure didn’t even move a finger, and suddenly an iron grip wrapped itself around the Mandalorian’s throat. He choked, his hand slipping from his blaster to his neck, trying to prise away whatever was suffocating him, but it wasn’t there. Nothing was touching him.

The man watched him, “Sit down.”

The pressure became tighter, dragged down Mando’s body and forced his legs to relax and for his body to dump back onto the bench. “Now. Activate the puck.”

Mando shook his head, gasping for breath beneath the helmet, his lungs already fit to burst and his eyes tearing up. He had to protect you and the kid.

This man, if he was one, snarled softly, “Unless you want me to crush your windpipe and slit your baby in half, open the damn puck.”

Mando growled, clawing across the table and slamming his fingers onto the puck.

At once, the pressure immediately vanished. The man still sounded calm, casual, “That’s a good boy.”

The sudden rush of air was surprisingly not what had Mando gasping. It was your face, lit up in holo with the now absurdly high bounty flashing above it.

He’d known it’d be you, but it was still like a blow to his heart. The hazy blue mirage of your face, projected into the air stared at him, cutting right through him.

Mando shook his head again, his voice hoarse, “I don’t know where she is. I lost her. I don’t have the rights to go after again.”

The shadowy man leaned forward closer, flicking the puck “I knew you’d say that. I also knew that roughly a week ago, you dropped her off in Nevarro. I know that she’s currently staying under the protection of Marshal Cara Dune and Greef Carga.” He pressed the button to deactivate the puck.

Ice spread through Mando’s belly. How did this freak know where you were? How did he know where you were staying? Had he been following you?

His heart started to increase rapidly in his chest, his brain scrambling for a way out of this conversation. If it were anyone else, he would have ripped them apart and left by now.

But some primal instinct told him if he tried, he wouldn’t be the one walking away.

The man pulled the puck toward him, slipping it deep within his cloak, “You catch on fast. You’re right. You wouldn’t be walking away. There wouldn’t even be enough of you left to paint the walls of this disgusting building. Not even with your precious baby.”

What the fuck? He just…

A silky chuckle emanated from the hooded abyss, “Yes, yes. Don’t dwell on it, Mandalorian. There are bigger things to worry about.” He sat up straighter. “Now, I’m assuming you don’t remember what I am. So, I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt. I have been employed by someone who is far too arrogant and overestimates both their intelligence and their influence.” He paused, “No… employed is the wrong word. That would imply that they are my boss, and that is simply beyond ridiculous.” He tapped the table, “Anyway, as I was saying. I have been paid by someone to find your little girlfriend. And I will not stop until I find her. There are no ifs, buts or maybes. I will find the girl. And it’ll be sooner rather than later.”

Mando couldn’t breathe. There was a roaring in his ears.

The man continued on, “My client has asked me to bring her back to them. And I am nothing if not a gentleman of my word, so I have promised that she will be taken to them. On one condition.” He reached behind him, unsheathing his sword and resting it on the table in front of him with a movement so smooth it could have been choreographed. “I will have her returned to me after they are done with her. For she belongs to me, truly. And I will do to her whatever I see fit.”

A deadly fury rose within Mando like a tidal wave at the disgusting possessiveness in this mans words, but it was diminished when he saw the blade.

As long as his arm, a metal so black it sucked the very light from the room. There patterns within the surface, liked it was folded back onto itself again and again, until it was virtually indestructible. The centre of the blade and its hilt were etched in gold with symbols that Mando didn’t know.

But he recognised them.

With a sudden clarity, it came rushing back to him.

As a child, he was told bedtime stories, of a terrifying phantom of death. He rode the night sky, which answered to him. He slipped through the shadows and into people’s minds. He could kill a man from the inside out without touching him, reduce him to a screaming pit of fear, so tortured that he would tear out his own eyes.

He left behind no trace. He killed without mercy, without remorse for he had no soul.

There were rumours that beneath his hood, lay the head of a monster, so vile and cruel that the deepest pits of the galaxy spat him back out because they were too good for someone like him.

There was even talk of him in Mandalorian culture. Warnings.

This being was the one thing that a Mandalorian should never engage in. For he would make even the most skilled hunter or assassin cower. He had slaughtered in the Mandalorian wars, killed thousands on either side and then returned later to suck the souls out of the dead.

There were multiple names for him in Mando’a, the two most prominent being Werda which meant shadows, or more commonly, Haran. Translated, it meant hell, or cosmic annihilation, as he was said to be older than time. Older than the galaxy. He was death.

Haran chuckled softly, “Ah, I thought that might stir up some memories. I admit, I was surprised when I learned that the Mandalorian’s knew who I was, and even warned you about me. As if they believed that would save you. I thought you were all… what’s the phrase? Ori'buyce, kih'kovid. All helmet, no head."

He might throw up. Mando might throw up right here. He couldn’t wrap his head around what was happening. A fucking myth, a legend told to Mandalorians and people across the galaxies, was sitting opposite him.

He was real.

He could speak Mando’a better than some of his fellow Mandalorians.

He wanted you.

Haran was caressing a gloved finger up and down the edge of his blade, “I am going to get her, Mandalorian. She will be mine. She has belonged to me since the moment she was born, our fates entwined like threads of time. I will have her back by my side, and I will teach her everything that she is. I will help expand her past the limits of what she can be. She will be unstoppable. Indestructible.” There was a hunger in his voice, a hunger that struck genuine fear into Mando’s heart.

Mando croaked, the only thing he could manage, “What are you talking about?”

Haran tiled his head again, his movements stilling, “She never told you?” That irresistible voice actually sounded surprised, then he chuckled, “Oh, that’s interesting. She’s obviously tried to forget who she truly is. No matter, I’ll show her soon enough.” He appeared to be thinking about something, then his cloaked head tilted up and Mando knew he was watching him.

If he even had eyes under there.

“You can go and run off to her now. But you won’t be able to save her.” Such simple words, spoken with such a casual knowledge, a man used to being right.

The Mandalorian didn’t even think. He lurched from his seat, numbly pressing the button on his vambrace that had Grogu’s crib following him.

He had to get back to Peli. He had to get back to the Crest. He needed to find you, needed to take you somewhere far away, somewhere where you’d be safe from this monster.

“Wait.”

The man caught Mando’s arm as he made to go past him, gripping it with an iron strength that seemed to reverberate throughout his bones, root him to the spot. He couldn’t move.

“I tell you what. I’m a generous man, so I’m going to give you a head start. I’ll be here for the next seven days. After that, I’ll be making my way to Nevarro. And I will lay waste to anyone that tries to stand in my way. ”

Mando couldn’t speak, his tongue had frozen to the roof of his mouth with that same phantom grip. He could only make a choked noise, a growl that sounded as threatening as he could.

The man laughed again beneath that fucking hood, letting go of the invisible grip and sheathing his blade, “Better hurry… Lori.”

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#the mandalorian x force sensitive! reader #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian x you #din djarin x force sensitive! reader #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #din djarin & grogu #rogue #din djarin #the mandalorian #mandalorian fanfic #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal x you

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my-headcanons-academia · 3 years

Text

Inko chews out Endeavour

Characters: Inko Midoriya, Izuku Midoriya, Shouto Todoroki, Endeavour

Genre: Angst, a little bit of fluff and catharsis

TW: Mentions of child abuse, abusive home life, mental drain

Word Count:3 K

A/N: This may be a teensy bit long :3

•Okay listen

•Midoriya is god damn horrified when he hears what Endeavour did/does to his kids. He had obviously guessed that the second-best hero there is who is training his family to also become heroes would have some extensive regime but what Shouto explained wasn't "training" it was just abuse.

•He immediately offers Shouto and his sibling's a place with him and his mum without a moment's hesitation. They're not as rich as the Todoroki's or live in as big a house with as good food, but they're happy. •And when Shouto declines, Izuku isn't really sure what to do.

• it's not his place to tell any media or higher authorities, it'd drastically change the lives of Shouto and his siblings and would affect all of them the rest of their lives. He feels like he can't do much and a part of him feels like doing nothing means he's condoning the abuse that still happens in that home like the emotional neglect and things Shouto may not have mentioned. But he can't do anything about that right now, simply because Shouto won't let him. And while Izuku is fighting every instinct he has which is to take the Todoroki siblings out of there and into a therapist's office, it's not his place to do that.

•So instead, he does what he can for them, like offer to go places more so they're out of the house. Offer free anonymous therapy sites. Have their own improv therapy whenever needed. Promise to be there for whoever trusts him and for those who it may take longer to trust him.

•But with all his good intentions, he starts to bite off more than he can chew. Even when it's not in the midst of midnight therapy or distracting days out, it's constantly nagging at the back of his mind that he wants to do more and he isn't doing everything he can. He doesn't want to "fail" at being a good friend, since he hasn't had many experiences to base off (or any for that matter) but he is running out of emotional room.

•Contrary to the Todoroki household, Inko Midoriya actually notices when her child is going through some rough times and tries to do her best to help.

•I imagine Inko and Midoriya have a close relationship. With no other reliable parent figure in the house, they spent a lot of time together. Not only are they parent and child, but they are also friends who enjoy each others company. Inko may not always understand his fascination with All Might but she'll always ask questions and prompt him to go on about the differences in All Might's costumes and moves, even if she knows all the answers already in the same way Izuku may not understand why she enjoys sewing so much ever since she made him his hero costume but will not hesitate to help her go shopping for and carry new fabrics as she talks about the colours and texture helping boost peoples confidence. (She wants to get better at sewing so she can make a new costume for him that's better than ever before.) •And because Inko and Izuku were rather close, she knew his tells. she'd learnt well from their daily game nights to know when he lying and when he was hiding things. But that was during games. This was far more strenuous. But before she rushed in and crowded him, Inko thought that if there were really something he didn't want her to know, then she shouldn't know. So long as it doesn't hurt him. So, respecting the fact he is now a teenage boy and not a child anymore, she knew he was smart enough to make his own decisions.

•But also being herself, she still wanted to help, even if she didn't know exactly what was going on.

•At first, she thought Izuku wasn't sleeping enough because of the stress of UA so she'd plan days to the seaside or mini-holiday or they could try to make a new dessert or do a movie marathons to distract him from it. And she always took note of how very time she offered, he'd always insist some way or another that the Todoroki's join them which of course she had no quarrels with, she was delighted he loved spending so much time with his friends!

•When that didn't help she offered to get him a tutor, maybe he was anxious about his studies? She didn't trust her own education enough to tutor him as he was always impressing her with fun trivia and general knowledge but she'd taken a break in her sewing hobby to save up some money to be able to pay for a tutor.

•But when he began not eating as much, mind always preoccupied with something else than his usual hero ideology and theories, the day of the annual parent-teacher meeting and Izuku hadn't uttered a word since he got home, she sat him down on the couch, held his hands, his scarred and trembling hands, and she asked him. "Are you alright?"

•She's asked this many times before, every time he came home from school, every time she found him up in the middle of the night shakily drinking some water while staring at his phone as if expecting some death from the family. But this time? •This time her words echo in Izuku's head, getting louder and louder with each reverberation, picking up speed and other voices with every hit to his mind, the sound of text messages, quiet telephone calls, rushed breathing, stifled words, hearing footsteps from the other line, the need to help all drowning him in a cacophony of utter helplessness. •And he crumples against his mother, clawing onto her shirt like a life-jacket barely keeping him afloat above the ocean of noise only he is in and he cries. The tears stain Inko's cardigan and she wraps her arms around him, pulling him onto her lap like she used to when he was a child, she holds her son, her baby boy, as his tears dampen her clothes and his voice breaks choking on sobs.

•It was a long day.

•Izuku and Shouto had talked before about telling Inko or an adult or just anyone but there was always some reason, some excuse why it couldn't happen yet. It would be a decision all the siblings would have to agree to as it affects all their lives. Fuyumi was always hesitant, so cautious and making sure if anything were to happen nothing could be left to chance and all outcomes had to be planned. Natsuo wanted whatever would help everyone the most, and if no one was ready to do anything right now, then he'd wait. Shouto thought long ago that if what his father did to his family ever came to light, it would be brought up for the rest of his hero career and he'd never be able to truly escape his dad's hold if it always followed him like that. And until he met Midoriya, that's what he thought for years.

•Shouto was warming up to the idea of saying what happened to him specifically to someone. To see what would happen.

•And that is what Izuku could let slip. The things Shouto had told him at the sports festival, the reason for his scar, his spiteful technique and motivation to be a hero. •It was a long day. •The moment all was said and done, that he had run out of tears to cry, that he had ruined his mother's cardigan by stretching it with his grip and made it soggy with his sobs, that he could breathe without a hiccup or tremor interrupting him, he was completely drained. There was a mix of hollowness after spending so long building it all up, unsure every step of the way whether he's doing the right thing or not and the relief of finally letting there be room for him to breathe.

•But in his hollow chest was a stab of guilt, anxiety, crawling back up his throat and blocking his lungs like a thick mucus of worry. Had he done the wrong thing? It wasn't his place to say- He should have talked with Shouto more about this- Was he wrong to have done nothing so far?- Oh god he's done nothing right- this could hurt them-

• "Shhh," Inko gently held the back of his head and rubbed small circles with her thumb into the back of his neck, like she used to to do calm him down as a child, it still worked "It's-..." Inko collected her thoughts. It was certainly a lot to process, she had her suspicions but she thought she was being paranoid. She'll learn to trust her gut more. "It's not alright right now, but one day it will be. For you and for them."

•And that worry in his chest turned to blunt guilt, he shouldn't be the one crying while Shouto and his siblings have withstood literal torture all their lives, he should be stronger, he needs to be stronger to help them-

•"You are children. And none of you should have to deal with this. I know you're growing up faster than I can blink and you're being a hero more and more every day, but that doesn't mean you were prepared for this exact situation. They train you to fight villains and criminals and how to save those in immediate peril who want saving. Not thins like this." Inko continued to speak softly, pulling Izuku closer and soothing the back of his neck "Thank you for telling me and I can understand why you wouldn't want me to meddle as it may be out of my depth, but, two people helping them is better than one."

• Midoriya told Shouto what had happened and apologised for spilling too early, apologised for not doing enough, apologised for being less than open about the emotional and mental space he had to spare, promising to be more aware of it so long as Shouto continues to trust him and talk when needed. Shouto was confused as to why Midoriya was apologising so much as always and despite the apprehension in his movements, Shouto had spent enough time with Inko to trust her. And also to know that while Inko is kind, that isn't all she is.

•Shouto had seen her repay the kindness people had shown her tenfold with gifts, acts of service, compliments, reassurance and more. And something about that deep-rooted kindness tipped him off to the idea that if someone were to take advantage of her kindness or her son, that injustice too shall be repaid. And, as slow as it was and as long as it took, he knew she considers him her son too.

• Overall, the parent-teacher meeting was going well for most students. Most students were in their more casual clothes except those who had been too lazy to change out of their school uniform for the day albeit having their shirts scandalously untucked and top buttons undone (Except for Bakugo who in the presence of his mother for the first time had his tie actually tied, truly it was a sight to behold and blackmail photos to be used for months.)

• Amidst all the parents gathering together while waiting for the respective teachers to be free of their current appointments, there he was. Enji Todoroki, Endeavour in his hero costume supposedly fresh from the job. • And thus, politely fuelled by karmic fury the 5'2 force of nature marched up with a smile to the flaming rotting piece of shit excuse she can barely call a human being and greeted him.

• "Oh, hello Enji." Inko smiles. Izuku stands back with Shouto on the sidelines, watching the encounter unfold. • First of all, the informality caught him off guard. Usually, he'd be used to fans being "Overly-friendly" but something about the smile in her voice didn't sit right with the way fans usually say it. This turned a few heads.

• "And..who are you?"

• "Why I am so glad you asked, my name is Inko Midoriya, the woman whose house your son goes to every day but I suppose you wouldn't know that since as long as he's keeping up his work then there is nothing else to do with him at all," she coughed ", like parenting," and continued "Speaking of being in public I could never be as confident as you are to go to a casual event in a full-on hero costume but I suppose if it helps boost your ego then go for it! Although, speaking from the perspective of a concerned parent, aren't all of those flames a safety hazard! what if you were near a flammable thing like, oh I don't know, civilians clothes in a place you know where said civilians are tightly packed together, or there could be someone well-known to have a flammable quirk nearby or just a building's structure being, on the whole, a rather flammable thing?" Her head turned to the overgrown vermin who lead the school who had entered the room upon hearing there was a commotion "Not that I doubt UA's defence measures and predicted disastrous occurrences as no such thing has ever failed in the past. It's just the safety of children and the future generation of heroes after all." and just as quickly turned back to Endeavour

•"You know I noticed there are plenty of other pro-heroes here who are just fine in their everyday clothing because they recognise this get together is about their children's achievements and not their own. Why, if I didn't know any better I'd say you really are that insecure in your title slipping because that's what being a hero is all about, the title, that you'd distract entire families from the point of being here just to pay attention to you because it's not like being the second supposedly best hero there is credits you any attention."

• Enji barely had time to stop the flames protruding from his hero suit from dying out as peoples heads turned to pay attention. By now every student had pulled out their phone to record the situation.

•Nedzu was on his way over, laughing awkwardly ready to diffuse the situation but had miraculously been needed for a sudden important event in the teacher's lounge and was immediately escorted by Aizawa and Present Mic.

•"Oh and may I go on and say you truly are an inspirational story of how being raised as a gifted child must have been really difficult for you. Always a commodity, never a human being, not a single person in your life thinking you’re worth a damn without your quirk so you made it your entire personality until you developed your own actual personality because of course you, the Number Two hero would outgrow such a childish nature. That sounds rough," she pouted in mock sympathy.

• Endeavour snarled behind gritted teeth, barely stopping himself from acting out of hand at the public slander. "Just who do you think you are-"

•"Like I said, my name is Inko Midoriya, the pleasure is all mine I'm sure, or did you not hear me the first time while that fire was covering your ears? just like how it must have covered your eyes with choosing that outfit to be approachable. Oh do excuse me if that seemed rude, I'm a seamstress as a hobby you see so I tend to have an eye for when things are just wrong in every way. Honestly, if you didn't parade your title everywhere you go I'd mistake you for a villain on sight. You see, I'm only a seamstress and not a hero like you as you love to flaunt no matter the situation or need for it, but it must be so rewarding to save all those people every day and return to a home with your loving children and children who want to do the exact same thing and be exactly like you because you must be such good role-model and parent to have accomplished so much in your career and of course spent enough time on each of your children to help them grow to be happy, full of inspiration and their own dreams to fulfil. Oh, and of course your wife who must be so proud of the person you've become!"

• By this point the flames had been sputtering at random, a rare purple and even blue flamer erupting once and again as this woman continued talking and the parents out the corner of his eye who thought they were out of his sight nod their head and faces contort into realising the full weight of the truth they already knew but now understand.

• But Inko was nowhere near close to done, Endeavour could hear as much when she took a small break to smile and take a bigger breath to continue. • And blinded by the public's disapproval of everything he had convinced he had Done for the good of the civilians, he could feel the ground, just like his title, being pulled from under him as quicker heroes hit the back of his knees as Inko swung her handbag with the metal buckle across Endeavours face while she was being pulled safety away from the punch Enji hadn't realised fast enough he had thrown.

• The videos uploaded by students went viral in seconds

•"shocked" by the number two hero's emotional outburst with malicious intent to harm an unarmed civilian, Inko let it be known she found it unsuitable that he go back home to his children and instead of that they live with her and make a record with either police or a licensed therapist to make a note of any other emotional outbursts or strange and potentially dangerous behaviour in complete confidentiality.

#wow #a good parent?#in this economy?#bnha #mha #mha hc #bnha hc #endeavor #inko midoriya #izuku midoriya #tododeku #shouto todoroki #enji todoroki #bnha headcanons #mha headcanons #Shouto x therapy #Inko x catharsis #INKO POPPING OFF

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foilfreak · 3 years

Text

Beauty and Her Beast: Chapter 5

WARNING PLZ READ BEFORE CONTINUING: This fic is rated NSFW and contains graphic depictions of things some people may find disturbing or alarming, including, but not limited to: violence, gore, unhealthy family relationships, Oedipus complexes, gratuitous amount of pornographic literature, ableist language, physical, mental, and emotional abuse, etc. If you are someone who does not enjoy fiction with these elements in them, then I suggest you refrain from reading this, because this fic will have all that, and probably a lot more. So, this is your first and final warning to turn around and go somewhere else if stuff like this just isn't your vibe, because from this point forward, your emotional wellbeing is in your own hands, and I will not be accepting blame if you disregarded my warnings and ended up reading something you didn't like. Idk why I feel compelled to write one of these despite this being Resident Evil fanfic, but I figured I'd cover my ass just in case.

(AO3 Link below)

This was a bad idea... no, actually, scratch that. This wasn’t just a bad idea...

‘THIS WAS A TERRIBLE IDEA’ Salvatore thought to himself, as he frantically hid beneath a large blue tarp covering a couple of old, rotting shipping crates, his body trembling uncontrollably and his shoulders heaving from the terrified and panicked state Salvatore had managed to work himself into.

Now, for those of you who may be wondering why Salvatore was currently hiding behind a bunch of crates like prey hiding from the hunter, despite being in the safety of his own reservoir-

“Hello?”

-that would be why.

Yes, the 2 days that Salvatore had been given to prepare for his gift’s arrival had come and gone faster than the disfigured man could have ever imagined. And while he’d done a marvelous job of cleaning up the reservoir to make it suitable for the beautiful young lady who’d now be calling this place ‘home’, what he hadn’t anticipated having to deal with was the full blown panic attack he got the second the villagers arrived to release her into his custody. Thankfully, his anxiety grew more manageable when one of the villagers explained that, due to Nadine’s tendency toward violent behavior, combined with her superhuman strength, Mother Miranda had gone ahead and given the young woman a nice heavy dose of sedative to keep her asleep throughout the journey to the reservoir, as well as for a couple of hours afterwards, too.

You know… just in case.

After the villagers finally left, Salvatore closed and locked the gate behind them before turning his attention to the large wooden coffin that, according to the men who’d carried it here, contained his long awaited gift from Mother Miranda.

Taking a few tentative steps forward, Salvatore takes the metal key the villagers had given him and slowly, but eagerly, unlocked and opened the wooden vessel, gasping in shock and awe as the sight of Nadine’s perfectly angelic face finally came into the light. He wasn’t sure how this was possible, but somehow the young woman looked even more perfect than the first time he saw her, the soft glow of the early morning sun reflecting off her blue scaly skin in a way that gives her a gorgeous, almost iridescent shine.

The continued nudeness of Nadine’s body, while mesmerizing to look at, did unfortunately make the act of keeping his hands to himself rather difficult, and Salvatore quickly found himself grappling with his inner demons as he contemplated reaching in and taking a quick feel, just a quick one, if only for the sake of finally figuring out what on earth her skin was made out of.

Was it smooth and silky to allow for rapid aquatic maneuverability, like that of an eel, or did her soft, feminine exterior hide a rougher, more textured sort of skin, like that of a shark or a whale?

Oh how Salvatore longed, with every fiber of his disgusting, twisted being, to reach inside that wooden carrier and run his hands over the mutant woman’s perfect little body, every atom in him aching to touch, hold, kiss, lick, bite, and devour every square millimeter of this gorgeous specimen, blurring and melting the lines of reality that once separated them until you couldn’t tell where beast ended and where beauty began.

But he refrained.

As much as Salvatore desperately wanted to give in to the primal desires of his still-human mind and mostly-human body, he instead decided to give the young woman some time to wake up first, guessing that she probably wouldn’t want some random stranger, much less one that looks like him, touching her without her permission. So with a deep breath, and a strong swallowing of his raging libido, Salvatore stepped away from the crate Nadine was sleeping in, pocketing the key in case Mother wanted it back later, before turning around and beginning to hobble back toward the lake to complete the few minor tasks he hadn’t managed to get to before the villagers arrived earlier.

It would be well into the afternoon, nearly evening by this point, before Salvatore heard so much as a peep from Nadine. Mother Miranda must not have been kidding when she said she’d given the young woman enough sedative to knock her out for hours. If it weren’t for the fact that she was still breathing, Salvatore might have thought her dead after this amount of time.

Unfortunately for Salvatore, it would appear as though Nadine taking ages to awaken from her drug induced slumber would be the least of the deformed man’s concerns, quickly overrun and forgotten about in the blind panic Salvatore went into once the young woman’s voice, soft and slightly high pitched, though a bit scratchy from lack of use, calls out from, presumably, the spot where Salvatore had left her by the front gate.

The heavenly tone bounces and echoes off the wood and water of the surrounding area, filling the reservoir with a song-like magic that made Salvatore’s knees buckle weakly in reverence, and his stomach want to turn itself inside out from complete and utter terror. Hit with the sudden realization that Salvatore was going to have to actually look at AND speak to Nadine now that she’d awoken, and at the same time no less, immediately sends the mutant man tumbling into a full blown panic, resulting in Salvatore locating the nearest solid structure, the tarp and crates in this case, and throwing himself underneath it, hoping and praying that if he remained quiet for long enough, Nadine would lose interest and go somewhere else-

“Hello? Is anyone here?”

-Unfortunately Salvatore wasn’t a man who had his hopes and prayers answered terribly often, and today seemed to be no different than usual.

Despite being given extra security due to the rapid approach of nightfall, Salvatore didn’t even dare breathe as the sound of footsteps passed by his hiding spot, his heart pounding uncontrollably in his chest as Nadine came within just inches of finding him. This is it, the jig is up, there was absolutely no doubt in Salvatore’s mind that Nadine was mere seconds away from pulling the tarp back to reveal his horrible and disgusting self, scrunched up into the tightest little ball between the narrow spaces of the crates.

Closing his teary eyes and accepting his fate, Salvatore merely sat and waited for the inevitable moment of shocked silence after the tarp had been lifted, followed by the sound of Nadine’s smooth and rich voice bursting his eardrums with a piercingly shrill and terrified shriek, as well the heavy booming of feet against wood as she ran away from him, disgusted, horrified, and appalled by so much as having to look at the monster that Salvatore was, much less do anything else.

“Ah man, I could have sworn I saw someone around here, earlier,” the low but feminine voice of Nadine said aloud, sounding quite dejected as she leaned against the blue tarp covering Salvatore’s hiding spot.

“Maybe they just went out to look for food, and will be back later?” Nadine says to herself, sounding more optimistic than before, though her hopefulness fades as quickly as it arrived when she continues with, “Then again… maybe the poor bastard caught a glimpse of me as I stumbled around and took off in terror at the sight of me. I suppose I can't really blame him… not with the way I look now, at least.”

Nadine pauses, trailing off for a moment as Salvatore remains rooted in his spot, hands clamped firmly over his mouth and nose to prevent any noise from escaping, despite the increasing burning sensation from his human lungs, which, despite their somewhat shaky ability to do their prescribed role ever since the cadou mutations screwed him up, still very much needed air going in and out of them if Salvatore wanted them to continue functioning at all.

The young woman remained in that spot leaning against the tarp-covered crates for a few more moments, not saying or doing anything as far as Salvatore could tell, before the sound of shuffling and more footsteps, softer and less hurried than the ones he’d heard earlier, caught his attention.

Silence persists for another moment, causing Salvatore to grow curious the longer he waits. And so, despite his earlier reservations, Salvatore can’t help but shift his position slightly so that he could peek through a narrow space between the wall of crates, just enough to give him a solid view of Nadine, who currently stood with her back to him just a few feet away from where the mutated man was hiding. Her gaze seemed transfixed on the lake’s surface, or perhaps it was less the water that held her gaze, but the reflection staring back at her from the mirror-like surface.

Even without seeing her face, Salvatore could tell that the young woman was afraid and in pain, and his heart wrenched agonizingly as he watched her beautiful form shrink in on itself. Her arms curled around her body defensively, as if trying to hide herself shamefully from any potential onlookers, while her torso slumped limply forward, shoulders shaking heavily as she sobbed quietly to herself in the ever growing darkness of evening time.

“Whatever, it’s not like it matters anyways,” the young woman sobs dejectedly after a while, pointlessly rubbing the tears from her face away, only for them to be quickly replaced as new ones fell. “Even if somebody did actually live here, it’s not like anyone would even want to help a disgusting abomination like me... much less have anything else to do with me.”

The sound of Nadine jumping off the dock and into the cold lake water below pales in comparison to the sound of Salvatore’s whole world turning itself upside down from beneath the large blue tarp under which he was hidden.

Disgusting abomination?

Nadine?

No. No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, NO!

Of all the things Salvatore has ever heard in his entire life, this one has to be the most ridiculous thing by far.

Salvatore was a disgusting abomination, that much he was more than aware of and had long since accepted, as painful as it still was to admit from time to time. But Nadine… Why Nadine was quite easily the most beautiful woman he’s ever laid eyes on, save for perhaps Mother Miranda herself maybe, which was certainly a very high standard to be compared to in Salvatore’s book. While the young woman did indeed have several mutations that would make going back to her previous life almost impossible, that didn’t mean she was disgusting, or an abomination.

Not to Salvatore she wasn’t, at least.

The fact that the poor young woman thought this of herself sent a sharp, stabbing pain directly into his heart, practically tearing him apart from the inside out as he frantically thought of something, anything he could do to make the tiny woman feel better.

Thinking back to when he’d watched her just moments ago, he remembers the way in which her arms and hands curled around herself as she sobbed, looking like they were attempting to cover as much exposed skin as physically possible. How Nadine could call herself an abomination when she looked like the picture perfect definition of beauty, Salvatore didn’t know, but what he did know was that women, at least the women he was used to, always enjoyed receiving pretty things with which they could cover and decorate themselves, like dresses and jewelry.

And luckily for Salvatore, he just so happens to know of a few places where he might be able to acquire both of those things.

With a quick peek from beneath the tarp before taking off, Salvatore quickly makes his way toward the exit gate, barely managing to close the gate behind him and pull his cloak over himself before sprinting, as much as his mangled body would allow anyways, down the snowy path that would lead him to the estates of the only two people Salvatore can think of to help him in this messy situation.

Hopefully Alcina and Donna won’t be terribly upset with him for stopping by unannounced.

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x0401x · 3 years

Text

Jeweler Richard Fanbook Short Story #12

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Suit Story

If you went through Ginza’s Main Street from 7-chome to 1-chome, the change in the city’s atmosphere would shock you. Bulgari, Cartier, Louis Vuitton, Chanel. Felt like you could play shiritori with these high-class brand names. It was a fun neighborhood to stroll around during Christmas season, as all the stores would come up with elaborate plans for the decorative lights, but it was currently autumn. The store most closely related to me in these vicinities was the long-established stationery store where I went to buy stationery. It was, however...

“Please raise your arms a little more.”

“All right.”

“Pull your chin back a bit. Yeah, that’s great.”

“Haah. Is this really right?”

“Of course. Might be hard, but please do relax.”

For whatever reason, I was across the street from the stationery store, practically in front of it, on the second floor of a branded men’s fashion store originally from England. On the walls of this mysterious-gentleman-themed space, which housed a bar counter and even a huge aquarium, there were clusters of business suits, pants and waistcoats with basting threads attached to them in conspicuous spots.

It was a place for taking measurements for custom-made stuff.

I couldn’t get over the feeling that this was some kind of mistake. Wasn’t this the stationery store? The place where you could buy vanilla-colored envelopes for 30 yen each? Or illustrated writing paper with seasonal vibes, or pens.

“Seigi, you are too nervous.”

“Nakata-san is such an imp, but so are you.”

Leaning against the bar counter, Richard shrugged his shoulders, indicating possibility.

Today was Thursday. Having been called by Richard, who said he wanted to ask me to do some odd job, I went over to the front of Etranger, and then we came to this store in the green jaguar. Just when I thought he was gonna make me hang with him for shopping, the man on the driver seat hastily took out his phone, showing me a video letter from my dad, Nakata-san.

“Seigi, congrats on your graduation. I wanted to go suit shopping with you, but I’m in Jakarta, so I’ll be borrowing Richard-san’s assistance for that. Seems like people are getting them custom-made lately. Make sure to buy a good one. Well, see ya.”

Richard had watched over me in the passenger seat as my eyes got wet, but the tears drew back in when we stepped into the store.

While talking lightheartedly about the difference between English and Italian suits, the young clerk, who wasn’t all too apart from me in age, smoothly took my body measurements with a measuring tape and showed me countless textures.

“You can also choose the lining. What should we do about the pockets?”

When I started getting dizzy, said man, who was like a page of suits, began giving me suggestions from behind. I had nowhere to run. I was really going to have my suit made here. As I picked a charcoal-gray suit with blue lining, Richard quickly told me that tanzanite cuffs would look very nice in it. Of course, I was thinking the exact same thing.

By the moment that the Onii-san finished the measuring and disappeared into the back of the store to take notes, I heaved a deep sigh. “This kinda stuff’s been happening a lot lately. All I ever do is receive.”

When I said that, Richard laughed, giggles ringing up his throat.

Richard had two types of smiles, and whenever he raised his voice while laughing, if I refused to back down, he’d often give me a word of advice of some sort. When it was a silent smile, I’d feel like he was telling me in some way to “reflect about myself”, which would make me a bit anxious, but I liked both.

Walking up next to me as I stood in front of the mirror, Richard grinned. “It is no longer guaranteed that your body will grow out of your clothes. Isn’t it fun to sometimes purchase slightly larger clothes and try to wait for your body’s growth?”

“Feeling like this talk doesn’t have the ‘sleep well and drink milk’ kinda nuance to it.”

The reply was a smile. How strange. Richard’s face was right at my left side, but the smile in the mirror was looking directly at me. Clad in a double-button slender silhouette suit, his figure was perfect no matter from what angle I looked at it, like an extraordinarily fine jewel, so my own figure as I tensed up beside him appeared even weirder.

“Hey, Richard, I kinda have the feeling that suits are like the base metals of jewelry.”

“Are you referring to the foundation parts of rings, earrings and such?”

I nodded. The base metal was the metal part that formed the foundation for attaching gemstones to jewelry. In stores, people would often memorize the materials and call them by their names, such as gold base metal or platinum base metal.

It was a part that never played the leading role in Etranger, which handled accessories with gemstones on them. But it’d be hard to wear jewelry on the body without it, and it was also a part that allowed people to express their particularities regarding the materials, durability and design. Whether they would be prominent or not depended on the basis. Erm, this was probably what a jeweler from Kyoto that I was acquainted with would say. The contrary was also possible.

“Gotta psyche myself up. If I don’t become someone that won’t lose to this suit, I’d feel bad.”

“This is my personal opinion, but there is nothing more tiring to look at than a jewelry in which the gem and base metal are at rivalry with one another. What you should emphasize is the harmony. Just because you use the finest high-grade eggs and milk as ingredients, it does not mean you will create the best pudding – is that not the same thing?”

“Ah...”

When I replied that, indeed, high-end ingredients were often strongly in demand, the beautiful man nodded with an “exactly as you say”. By the looks of it, those were the sweets that he was into lately. I hadn’t been able to take time some for it at all due to being busy, but I decided to make pudding again one of these days and offer to him. Despite having a wallet that enabled him to eat as many high-grade desserts as he wanted, Richard would always be delighted anew no matter how many of them I made, which made me believe that, as one would expect, he had a talent for pleasing people. I was grateful for his existence.

“Both suits and jewelry are goods that exist for the sake of their owners. The initiative is clear from the start. You must handling it skillful and comfortably, not fight against it. That is why it is custom-made.”

“So you’re also ‘skillfully handling’ the clothes you’re wearing right now?”

“Evidently. Enough that I do not know anymore at what point it ends and I begin.” With that said, Richard sleekly patted his suit. I wanted to try saying that too someday.

We exchanged glances not through the mirror but directly.

When the clerk Onii-san came back, the measuring recommenced. I got kind of embarrassed as he praised me, saying I was well-relaxed.

“Seigi-kun, good work! Wow, that suit looks really great on you.”

“Thanks, Tanimoto-san. Uh, this print on your furisode, could it be—”

“I was told it’s a modern type of print, but yep, it’s kinda like...”

“It looks like a bismuth crystal!”

With a face that said, “I know, right”, a dandy crease formed under her eyes, which were just a bit more on-the-mark than usual. Her bob-cut hair was the same as always, her cream-colored hakama paired with a yellow-green and dark blue furisode, which bore a mysterious geometric pattern print. On top of being cute, it was unique. She said it was rented, but I got emotional upon finding out there was a furisode that was so much like her.

As for me, I was wearing a double-button English suit that fit my body extremely well. It was a little embarrassing, but the creatures called college boys were more or less the same kind of individuals as myself, so they weren’t too mindful of their male friends’ clothes. Only one of them, who had found employment in the apparel industry, said that “the suit Nakata’s wearing is so nice”.

It was the graduation ceremony of Kasaba University. We gathered in the excessively large auditorium for all but an instant, and once we had our diplomas in hand, it was the beginning of a rapid shooting party, where we took pictures with our preferred friends in spaces near the auditorium. Tanimoto-san came running over to the spot near the central library, where we had decided to meet up.

“Seigi-kun, really, congrats. Things might get hard from now on, but if it’s you, everything will definitely be okay.”

“Thank you. I’ll do my best. I don’t think I’m that big of a deal, though...”

“That’s not true. I know very well how awesome you are.”

I played around a little and bowed my head, also congratulating Tanimoto-san for her graduation, she laughed with a “huhuhu”, looking happy.

She had passed in teaching and she would officially be a middle school science teacher starting this April. She fulfilled the dream that she had told me about when we were in our second year of undergrad. So cool. She had laughed when I said I wanted to take her classes if it were ever possible, but now I knew her video communication address, so it might be that I could actually get to attend her lectures at least once. Even if I were no longer living in Japan.

“Tanimoto-san, the school you’re assigned to is...”

“In Okayama Prefecture. It’s famous for the Katsuta Group of vicarya fossils. Compared to you, it’s next-door.”

In a few days, my address would change from Japan to Sri Lanka. I was going to be a jeweler apprentice. I had been told that I would often have to move around in rough dress, so sure enough, I was going to dedicate myself to wearing formal stuff for the time being. It was a bit of a waste, but Nakata-san and Richard had probably given me a chance to wear this kind of thing because they knew about that.

I could hear a voice in the distance calling, “Shouko~”. It was apparently a friend of Tanimoto-san’s. She waved at them in response.

“Seigi-kun, y’know... I think I was very lucky to meet you in this university. Literally thank you. Thanks to you, university was always fun.”

“Those are all my lines. But Tanimoto-san, I only ever gave you trouble.”

“If you’re gonna say that, same goes for me. I feel like you’ve granted me many opportunities. Seriously, thank you.”

When she smiled, saying she was going to do her best, she looked really cute. Neither of us had any familiarity with Okayama, but surely, she would actively pave the way with her own strength no matter where she was. And on her days off, she would go out to the Katsuta Group to dig up fossils.

“From now on too, if there’s anything I can help you with, I want you to tell me. I’ll do anything. If you run into any weirdo, I’ll get on a plane and come give them a beating.”

“Me too; if anyone ever messes up with you, Seigi-kun, I’ll take my crack hammer and go finish them off. Look forward to it. Ah, Aki told me that a sniper rifle suits me better, apparently?”

“I-I wonder.”

After that, we talked for a while, seated on an inconspicuous bench, and when it was finally time, she told me to at least take care of my body, offering me her hand. I nodded and squeezed it back. Her hand was small but very strong.

“Take care of your body, at the very least. May the blessings of the stones fall upon you.”

“Thank you. You too.”

We bowed deeply, taking pictures with each other while we were at it, and once we were done with the commemorative photoshoot, in which the two of us kept a moderate distance from one another, we parted ways. Students here and there were hugging intensely and wailing, but neither she nor I were that type, and I didn’t think this would be farewell for a lifetime. We would definitely get to see each other from now on too.

However, this was our last time seeing each other while we were students. After the handshake, my angel waved her hand with a “see you”, even more brightly than an actual angel.

Later on, having finished looking around for the friends that I could call friends and going on a tour to tell them “thank you for everything until now”, lastly, I sent a brief text. Not to Richard. To Nakata-san and Hiromi.

“I was able to graduate from university without problems. Thank you very much, truly. I will be in your care from now on too.”

Rather than a greeting, it turned into a notice to announce my renewed determination. The stylish suit indeed gave off an extraordinary feeling of fittingness, but I couldn’t think I was fully used to it. Obviously. It finished being made just a while ago. It would start from here. If it would take on my shape the more I wore it, then I would make sure to wear it steadily to my own liking.

What mattered was the harmony, he had said.

While smoothly stroking the suit, which I still couldn’t deem as anything other than formal wear, as if I were stroking my favorite gemstone, I seared the contrast of cherry blossom petals against the blue sky into my eyes.

#housekishou richard shi no nazo kantei #housekishou richard #jeweler richard #the case files of jeweler richard #nakata seigi #richard ranashinghe de vulpian #richard ranashinha de vulpian #tanimoto shouko #richard #tsujimura nanako #yukihiro utako #novel #jr short story collection #my translation

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gallivantingheart · 3 years

Text

the proposal pt.1

who?: jeonghan x (f)reader

word count: 1495

genre/s: fluff and a bit of fun

warnings: none!

synopsis: jeonghan has never been confused on how you feel about marriage - now it’s just a matter of how to do it.

a/n: just a fun diddy bc i love this sleepy man - no, not based off that movie with sandra bullock

note: bold italics = korean

You confuse him endlessly. More so than the likes of his cryptic self or round-about Jihoon. How you say action is your favourite genre but he catches you watching the same romance movie at least once every few weeks, singing and crying at the same parts. How your wardrobe is full of dark hoodies and you wear the same ripped jeans, but your nails are always sparkly and your draws have pastel blouses. You'll say you don't need romantic gestures, but almost always squeal when he drops flowers by your office. Or the fact you say you're bad at them but always pull the best tear-jerkers on him. Like the time you brought him dinner to the practice room - vase of flowers and all - at midnight while keeping him company, even though he knew you had a client presentation the next day. The comeback prep was gruelling, so yeah, he got a bit misty-eyed.

At least one thing he's not confused with is your opinion of marriage. Despite this comfort, even though you've been together for almost four years, you've never once brought up marriage, even casually. You cried though, when Mingyu and Chaewon got engaged at their anniversary party last year. Babbled wetly into his shoulder about how sweet love was, meant to be and the like - for the record, you were completely sober. Sobbed even longer as one of Chaewon's bridesmaids that Jeonghan had to collect you from the altar after they left the venue. And he's seen you look at apartments to share, linger on pinterest on a Saturday afternoon.

He wants it just as bad as you, but no idea how to broach it. You’ve talked about how you want a rescue cat when you move in together as well as the style of decor. Even said in passing at a park how you hope that your kids have his smile because it’s, “the most beautiful thing I get to see every day.” Jeonghan doesn’t want to overwhelm you with a grand public proposal, but he doesn’t know how to wow you like you do for him all the time. Jeonghan’s gotta be honest - he wants the whole shebang. Smiles, tears, blubbering; the lot.

He also realises that he wants it recorded for your mum when he calls her for her blessing. You moved a whole hemisphere away a year before the two of you met, to pursue a job in the entertainment industry. Something interesting and left of field found you in Korea working in concepts and marketing. So phone and video calls are a regular for the two of you. He’s also tried really hard over the years to improve his English, to bridge the gap with your family. Jeonghan thinks your mother is amazing, kind and funny - the kind of level head he expected to bring such a wonderful person like you into the world.

He’s English is nowhere near good enough for what he wants to say, so he asks for a familiar face to help out. Joshua is on the video call too, made in Shua’s clean dorm. Your mother looks a little surprised to not see you there. You both have the same texture of hair, but not much else.

“Jeonghan! How are you!” She waves.

He smiles at her enthusiasm. “Good thank you. How are you?”

“I’m really good, sweetheart. Bit of a weird time to call - everything okay? Where’s y/n?”

He sees her search the screen for her daughter, even so much as leaning side to side to try and see outside the frame. Some of her speech is still lost on him, so he looks to Joshua in question. He leans over to his ear.

“She’s wondering if everything is okay for you to be calling at this time.”

Jeonghan raises his brows and nods in understanding. Her expression changes as well, the lines around her eyes softening with the fading concern.

“It is okay. Y/N is at work. I...I have a question to ask you. Just us. It’s very important.” He twists his ring anxiously in his lap.

“Of course, what is it?”

Joshua can see the tension rising in Jeonghan’s shoulders, how quiet and hesitant he gets at the elder woman’s agreement. The way he looks at the woman, staring persistently. The American born member leans over with a smile.

“Hi y/n’s mum. It’s a bit of a speech, so I’ll be helping Jeonghan translate, okay?” He looks to his friend, nodding gently. “Jeonghan? Tell her.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever met a person like y/n... She’s kind and exciting and interesting and she makes me really happy. I hope I do the same for her. I can’t imagine my life now if she weren’t in it. I don’t want to lose all that. I would like your blessing in asking her to marry me.” Jeonghan says as clear as he can, without too much of his nerves or feelings getting in the way - usually an easy feat for him.

Joshua translates along the way and he picks up words here and there - happy and your name, of course. But he’s not watching his fellow member speak for once, instead analysing his potential mother-in-law’s reaction. He starts to jiggle his knee off the bed as he sees your mother’s expression roll from from a quirked brow to a warm smile, then watching her eyes go glassy and her chin wobble through said smile. Her hands go over her mouth once Joshua finishes and out of shot, his hand lies flat over Jeonghan’s on his sheets in a sign of comfort.

“I...I...yes. I would love to have you as part of the family officially. Of course you have my blessing.” Your mother pulls her hands away to murmur.

She fumbles to the side for tissues and Jeonghan looks to Joshua in shock. He heard a yes, but… Joshua is meanwhile beaming in return, laughing at his member’s expense.

“She would love to have you as part of the family. You have her blessing.”

Jeonghan grins, his chest so full and tense he feels like he might burst. Instead, he laughs, grasping shua’s shoulders to shake them

“Thank you! Thank you so much!”

She shakes her head. “Of course I would say yes. You don’t know how much she talks about you when you aren’t there - how much she raved about you when the two of you first met. It was like the stories she used to make up as a little girl, come to life. I wish I was there to see her face when you ask.”

Jisoo translates and he laughs even more, elated being an understatement.

It took a little searching and contemplating on what kind of ring to get you. Nothing too big, because you used your hands for everything. Not gold, because you didn’t like the way it looked against your skin. He settles on loopholing the gold for white gold, something silver but reflective and a singular round diamond - only two carats or else you’d throw a fit at the mystery price. He gets a thin chain as well of the same material, knowing you were more likely to wear it round your neck than on your finger for fear of losing it. Seungkwan of all people was the one to help with the final decision, insisting on its chic simplicity and pretty glow.

Jeonghan decides on a little party to pop the question. Or as little as you can get with thirteen members and their partners as well as your friends and their plus ones. Under a guise of missing your friends and a celebration of your success with a client, he even whines that he’ll organise the food and drink. Everyone invited is in on it, of course, which heightens the stakes.

The box sits hot in his pocket or bag all week. All the members know about the little surprise coming up dance between trading their resident trickster or offering a helping hand. Seungkwan has pulled up as quite the miracle worker, his entertainment ties conjuring up a caterer on such short notice and Mingyu slipping the business card of the decorator of his engagement party - it’s a little worn from being worried in Seungcheol’s initial finding but that just adds to the charm. Like a group heirloom to be passed around.

Despite the client win, you’re still snowed under with new paperwork and contracts, so you’re none the wiser to the nerves brewing in your boyfriend which proves to be the perfect mix come the weekend.

He lets you sleep in even later than the two of you usually do, and encourages you to take up that nail salon voucher you’ve been humming and harring about - you deserve a treat, he whines. And when you shut the door gently, Jeonghan breathes a sigh of relief and an inhale of stress - now the fun really begins.

#caratwritersclub #jeonghan #seventeen #seventeen jeonghan #seventeen fic #seventeen fluff #seventeen imagine #seventeen scenario #jeonghan fic #jeonghan fluff #jeonghan imagine #jeonghan scenario #written #flickficfest

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solomonish · 4 years

Text

From the Mouths of Fools

Belphegor has a habit of forcing his brothers into trouble, mostly with you. There’s nothing more satisfying than the look of horror on their face when they think they must have dashed their chances with you and that they’re digging the hole deeper. Each time, you reach out a hand and ease their worries, and Belphegor’s stomach twists as you tell them with kind eyes not to worry, that they’re very sweet. Why did you have to be such a spoilsport?

(also posted on ao3 @ treetunkdaddy)

Poems: A Red, Red Rose by Robert Burns, I Carry Your Heart With Me by E. E. Cummings, I Love You by Ella Wheeler Wilcox, Love Sonnet XI by Pablo Neruda

Leviathan: I love you. Leviathan: I love you more than anyone else in this world. You: Thanks! Leviathan: Happy now? Leviathan: As I thought, this was the right thing to say.

You stared at your phone screen for a moment longer with one eyebrow raised. Something here wasn’t right. Though you weren’t some grand detective, you could tell that the texts didn’t sound like Levi at all Even beyond the sudden boldness, if you pictured Levi texting those messages you could only imagine him with a rain cloud over his head as he hunched over his phone in sorrow. The somber tone didn’t match his usual excitement. Maybe he was trying to get into character for some sort of cosplay…? Biting the inside of your cheek, you tried to figure out if he had mentioned getting into character for something. Still, there was no way he wouldn’t know all the lines of a character he was trying to embody, and it seemed far-fetched that he’d choose something so...overt, let alone practice it with you.

Before you could distract yourself too much from the tasks you were supposed to be working on, a solid oof a few feet away from your door caught your attention. You could just barely hear a half-hearted grumble barely covering the low boyish giggles of a scheming Belphegor as Levi freaked out in a jumble of words that sounded more like a keysmash than an argument. A moment later, you got another slew of texts that seemed much more like the demon you knew.

Leviathan: AAAEWAGVNAFBPEABD Leviathan: WAAAAAIT! Leviathan: I take that back! Leviathan: AARGH, no, that’s not what I meant! Leviathan: I left my D.D.D. on the couch and Belphie ran off with it!

Ah. That made sense. It also explained the nervous energy you could practically feel radiating from where the two demons undoubtedly still lay in a heap. With a devious look on your face, you tapped away at your phone.

You: I took a screenshot of it!

You were right about one of them being outside your door. You could hear Levi’s startled yelp, followed shortly by frantic footsteps running down the hall to his door. The three dots danced on your screen as the sound got quieter, the message reaching you just as the door to Levi’s room slammed shut.

Leviathan: No, you can’t! Delete that ASAP! DELETEIIIITTTTT!

Snickering to yourself, you hefted yourself out of your seat and opened your door to peer out into the hallway. A little ways to your left, Belphie lay sprawled out on the carpet with a half-dazed expression on his face. Taking care to keep your footsteps quiet in case he actually was asleep, you bent over his face to look at his half-lidded eyes. After a moment of shifting into focus, Belphie gave you a lazy smile and patted the floor next to him.

“You should join me,” He offered. “The carpet is surprisingly soft.”

“Yeah, and surprisingly dirty,” You added, gently toeing at his shoulder as if that would spur him to move.

“If you stare at the pattern on the ceiling and let your eyes get unfocused, it’s real easy to fall asleep,” He suggested. You turned your head to look at the ceiling, seeing nothing but a boring, dark texture above you. If you squinted, you could almost make out swirls in the paint. Maybe demons had a better time seeing details in the dark.

Beneath you, Belphie hummed contentedly, folding his hands at his stomach. He almost looked like he was sunbathing in a meadow, surrounded by fragrant flowers - the image made your heart jump the slightest bit. Maybe, if that was the case, you would have joined him. Lying next to him as a gentle breeze danced over your skin and the tall grass kissed your skin...that didn’t seem like a bad way to spend an afternoon.

“Hey,” Belphie asked suddenly, holding you in a serious stare. It was one he didn’t bother to give you often, saving it only for when you trespassed him so greatly he needed to make it known (more often than not when he told you how lame Lucifer was if you mentioned how he’s helped you with some administrative details for the exchange program). “What did you feel when Levi sent you that message?”

“What?” You asked, shaken by the jarring change in his voice. He sounded much more stern, and though it was hard to tell while looking at him upside down, you were pretty sure he was holding you in a glare, albeit a very gentle one.

“Did it make you happy?” He asked. “That he might love you?”

Your face flushed at the personal question and you averted your gaze, missing the way Belphie’s gaze hardened at your reaction. “I-I knew they weren’t from Levi,” You answered, shaking your head and looking back at Belphie. “They sounded way too suave for him. I thought maybe he was playing a character, or something. I didn’t think they meant anything.”

“You thought they didn’t mean anything…” Nodding, Belphie’s mouth twisted in thought as he looked just past your shoulder blankly. Suddenly his arms shot up and he grabbed at the air a few times, shutting off any gateway to questions you might have. “Help me up. I wanna nap somewhere softer than this where I won’t get trampled.”

Rolling your eyes, you turned the idea of leaving him there around once before shifting to his side and pulling him up. He took the chance to stumble into you, jamming his chin into your shoulder as he wrapped his arms around you and nuzzled into your neck. Instead of feeling his breath tickle your skin, however, you felt his hair brush against you as he adjusted, eventually stopping once he was satisfied. You realized for a moment he was listening for your pulse, and your breathing shallowed on instinct, as if you wanted him to hear it. He didn’t tell you what he was listening for, only groaning when you started to ask him to let go so you could resume your day.

“Mmmm….maybe I should nap here? So comfy….” He murmured. Though he made no move to let go, he also didn’t fight you when you finally separated him from your body. Giving him a farewell smile, you turned your back to leave, not seeing his face fall in displeasure.

---

A few days later, there was a book on your bed that you were positive wasn’t there when you left that morning.

Dropping your backpack unceremoniously by your door, you peered at the worn cover to see it was an old collection of romantic poems. There was no suspicious Latin on the cover, now jewels (or missing jewels) to indicate it was a spellbook or otherwise enchanted, so you picked it up. Upon closer inspection, you saw it was a collection of human poems, many of which you read in your early school days. There were a few multicolored tabs stuck in it, no apparent rhyme or reason to their placement. Though it looked to be Satan’s book, you couldn’t imagine him risking getting adhesive on the worn pages. Curious, you flipped to the first marked page and scanned it, face flushing almost immediately.

O my Luve is like a red, red rose That’s newly sprung in June; O my Luve is like the melody That’s sweetly played in tune.

Flipping to the next marked page, your face turned an even deeper red as they scanned the page.

i carry your heart with me(i carry it in my heart)i am never without it(anywhere i go you go,my dear;and whatever is done by only me is your doing,my darling) i fear no fate(for you are my fate,my sweet)i want no world(for beautiful you are my world,my true) and it’s you are whatever a moon has always meant and whatever a sun will always sing is you

Each page you turned to gave you smooth velvet words that someone very clearly wanted to direct at you, each getting more intimate than the last. Every poem you read sent more blush to your face until you were positive another word would have you passing out.

I love your lips when they’re wet with wine And red with a wild desire; I love your eyes when the lovelight lies Lit with a passionate fire. I love your arms when the warm white flesh Touches mine in a fond embrace; I love your hair when the strands enmesh Your kisses against my face.

Honeyed words of Shakespeare and Dickinson forced your heart to pump faster in your chest than you ever thought possible. Though your body really did feel like it might collapse under the affection the poems held, you couldn’t stop yourself from flipping through. Even though it was clear these poems weren’t written for you, the slightest implication that someone could think so highly of you had your head spinning. Before long, you were skimming the last marked page, barely able to catch your breath.

I crave your mouth, your voice, your hair. Silent and starving, I prowl through the streets. Bread does not nourish me, dawn disrupts me, all day I hunt for the liquid measure of your steps.

A loud roar of Belphegor’s name shook you out of your love-stricken trance. Slamming the book shut as if you’d been caught doing something wrong, you listened to the hasty, angry footsteps of Satan right outside your door. The closer he got, you could hear his heavy breathing as he fought to contain his anger. “Where is that book? I know you were the last person in my room!”

Though the thought of being on the receiving end of Satan’s anger was enough to send you running, you slowly cracked open your door and peered out. Satan immediately whipped his head around to look at you, softening just a bit in an effort to let you know that you weren’t what he was after.

In a timid voice, you asked, “Which book would you happen to be looking for?”

“It was a collection of poems. You wouldn’t have happened to see it, would you?”

Taking a deep breath, you opened the door all the way and held the book out to him. Snatching it out of your hands, Satan widened his eyes at the tabs. “Did you-”

“It was like that!” You defended. Satan realized you were jumpy and slowly inhaled, willing himself to calm down before you continued. “It was on my bed when I came home.”

With a gruff hum, Satan nodded at your explanation before flipping through the marked pages. “It’s alright, (Y/n). It’s not your fault. I’m positive Belphie was the one who took it since he was-”

Stopping mid-sentence, Satan flushed a deep red once he read which poems were marked to be read. “O-oh,” He murmured, pulling at his sweater collar and clearing his throat. “This is...these are pretty romantic, huh?”

“Well, it is a love poem collection,” You offered helpfully with a shrug. As if he didn’t believe you, Satan looked at the cover himself.

“I hope you didn’t mistake my intent. I didn’t mean for this book to end up in your care.”

“Ouch,” You hissed through your teeth. “Aren’t you a heartbreaker?”

Satan’s eyes widened before he furrowed his brows and backed a few steps away. “No, that’s not what I- I didn’t mean it like that.” Heaving a sigh, he placed a hand on his chest and shut his eyes as he scowled. “Thank you for returning it to me. Have a good day.”

Satan turned on his heel and walked briskly away, leaving you to chuckle at the empty space before retreating back to your room. On your bed, beneath where the book was, lay a green sticky note you had missed in the excitement. Picking it up, you saw a note scrawled in messy handwriting that made you question just how genuine these advances were.

I’m not the best at expressing myself with words. Maybe if I borrow the words of others, you can finally know how I feel.

---

The pattern continued for a few days, with each brother falling victim to one of Belphie’s tricks. Each time, they managed to fluster themselves to impossible standards, aside from Asmo who insisted he never sent you that love letter and don’t you know how beautiful his handwriting is like the rest of him? Oh, but if a love letter was what you were after, he’d send mountains and mountains until you just couldn’t resist him anymore-

By that time, you had gently shut the door in his face and jogged back to your room, just as red as the rest of the brothers were when it was their time to be the victim. Belphegor even managed to send you an email with a fake account with a name so similar to Lucifer’s you almost didn’t catch the differences. By that time, you saw through his jokes and simply asked:

You: Really? An email? [email protected]: What? He’s such a loser that I wouldn’t put it past him.

Even now, over a week since the last incident, Mammon was shouting in the hall as he kept running circles around himself, demanding Belphie to stop making advances on his human and to stop making him look like a fool. Without fail, Belphie always asked, “Oh? Is it foolish to think highly of the human?” Mammon was sent into a new frenzy every time.

By the time they were finished, you were exhausted just from listening to their incessant bickering. Mammon had scurried off, desperate to hide his embarrassment, while Belphie slumped down on the couch next to you and gave you a lazy grin. This time, you couldn’t bring yourself to return it. The antics had to stop.

“I think you should stop using me as a tool to mess with your brothers,” You said, not yet unpausing the show you were watching before the fighting started. Belphie scrunched his face and looked at you without moving his head.

“No can do. It’s too fun to see how desperately they try to save your honor from themselves. Idiots.”

Cringing at the insult, you continued, “Okay, but can you stop with the love advances? It’s a bit...much.”

Finally moving, Belphie turned his head to give you a scrutinizing look you didn’t understand before relaxing back into the couch. “Sure,” He answered humorlessly, tone dry and brittle with what was, to you, misplaced disgust. “It was losing its charm anyway.”

Now he was sulking, and you had half a mind to press play and just ignore his bitter mood. Still, you didn’t mean to make him pout, even if you had no idea where it came from and therefore weren’t exactly responsible for the shift. Sighing, you turned your back on him and leaned back, moving so your head was resting on his slumped chest. Without sparing you a look, Belphie reached his slim finger up and slowly carded them through your hair, making no effort to comb any tangles and deciding to ruffle it instead.

“I would like to know what’s got you in such a sour mood,” You said bluntly, turning your head to watch Belphegor stare at the ceiling blankly. Other than the occasional slow blink, you would have thought he had fallen asleep with how long it took him to respond. You knew better than to think he was ignoring you - he was either thinking of an answer he was satisfied to give or teasing you, seeing how long you’d wait for him and then pointing out how much you must value what he has to say if you’d wait that long.

“You enjoyed it too much,” He finally said, keeping his gaze from yours.

“I enjoyed it?” You repeated, narrowing your eyes. “I can assure you, I enjoyed none of what happened.”

“The fighting, maybe,” He agreed. “But I heard you tell Levi you thought it’d be sweet if he had texted you. I saw your face when you thought the poems were from Satan.”

“You were there?” Trying to remember the scene with Satan, you ran a hand partially through your hair and rested your palm on your forehead.

“The love letter, the gift basket, everything- you enjoyed it before you realized it was fake.”

“Belphegor, where were you?” You asked, knowing he would ignore your question. How many other times had he been secretly watching you without your knowledge? The thought made you shiver.

Clearly disgruntled, Belphegor growled at your questions before rolling his eyes. “At first I was just messing with you, but I never would have guessed you would sooner take sweet nothings from the mouths of fools before you’d ever take the real deal from me when I offer it out to you.”

Blinking rapidly, you felt your face warm and your heartbeat stutter for the thousandth time this week. “You...you never offered me anything,” you answered dumbly. Displeasure flickered across Belphie’s face before he sighed again and slumped further down, forcing your head down with him.

“Of course I didn’t. The others did, but not me,” He replied in such a way that barely hid the frustration in his tone, but the irony he was lamenting was lost on you. Sitting up, you shifted to sit on your knees and bent over Belphie to look at him.

“What are you talking about?” You asked. Belphie turned his head away, but you grabbed his cheeks and gently pulled them towards you so he could face you directly. “Belphie, tell me what you were trying to do.”

For a moment, Belphie wondered if he could just slump out of your grasp and lock himself back in the attic, clear by the pondering expression he wore on his face. You squished his face a little tighter, just enough to keep him in place and speak up. “I guess...I was hoping you would think the love letters and everything were from them and you’d reject them.” He looked to the side to avoid the pity you couldn’t hide on your face, his gaze unintentionally hardening. “Why didn’t you reject them? You should have rejected them.”

“I knew it wasn’t real! I was just trying to make them feel better,” You defended. Swiping your hand away from him, Belphie lifted himself up so he was sitting straight and crossed his arms, the image of a petulant child. “Is this...is this your version of a confession?”

Though he did his best to maintain his glare, Belphie couldn’t fight the light pink that tinted his cheeks. “So what if it is?”

Thoroughly pleased with yourself, you sat back on your heels and pretended you needed to mull things over. His hair was covering his eye and he kept his head turned away from you, but you could feel Belphie’s pensive gaze on you as you made your decision. Grinning and leaning closer, you asked, “Is this another prank?”

You felt his cold hands on either side of your face before you even saw him move. He glowered at you with no heat, putting on an upset show. If anything, he was more upset that you insisted on teasing him when you were so nice to the others. “If you can look at me and say you think I’m pranking you right now, you really are just a stupid human.”

Your grin widened. “A stupid human you’d have no qualms about kissing, though, right?”

There was no need to answer you with words when showing you was much more enjoyable.

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me belphegor #swd belphegor #obey me swd #belphegor #belphegor x reader #belphegor x mc #belphegor fluff #obey me imagines #long post #my fics #belphegor writing #satan writing #mine

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doctenwho · 4 years

Text

Icy Surprise

Hello! Thank you for the prompt! I’m glad you like my work enough to send your first request to me! Not gonna lie, this fic gave me such Christmas vibes, and it’s honestly the cutest idea. No mention of Christmas, but that’s where my head was the whole time!

This was so much fun to write, and I even learned a bit about Saturn in the process! Anyways-- on with the fic, I hope you like it!

Warnings: None

Word Count: 3,799

Summary: Up in the prompt :)

(Gif is not mine, credit to creator!)

“So, where are we going?” you asked easily, watching contently as the Doctor did his usual circles around the TARDIS console as he landed her at the mystery location.

As much as the Doctor liked to explain everything, and what you should expect from where ever he happened to be taking you, he also liked to come at you with the element of surprise every once and a while. Surprise and mystery, which usually left you floored by whatever he happened to show you.

So, the Doctor hadn’t said much about where he was taking you, but he’d gotten a bright smile on his face when you commented absently about a quiet night away from other aliens, and strange planets out of your solar system. As much as you liked it, you were still a human, and you did get overwhelmed by all this space stuff occasionally.

The two of you both knew you hadn’t meant you wanted to return to earth, just that you wanted a quiet night away from dangerous adventure and strangers. It wasn’t much to ask for, especially with all the dangers and adventures you’d found yourself drowning in these past few weeks.

He knew it took a toll on you, even if you didn’t say anything about it. You truly did like the travels, and adventures and the general thought of space travel, but it wore you down. Sometimes you just needed a bit of a break before you were good to go again.

And even if the Doctor didn’t say anything about it, you knew he liked when you requested a quiet night away just as much as you did.

“It’s a surprise,” the man grinned, just as he had the other four times you’d asked, or prompted guesses of his plans. You gave him a playful pout, to which he chuckles brightly.

You didn’t know what to expect. He’d given you so little information to even try to hazard a guess at where the two of you would be spending the evening. All he’d said, and it wasn’t even really information about your destination, was a question of if you had any warm clothes.

Which, no, you didn’t. You had what you’d been wearing when he first took you away to travel the galaxy, clothing you’d picked up along the way, and whatever the TARDIS supplied for you.

And by the look on his face, he’d assumed as much.

So, he’d directed you to where he kept all his wardrobe, and told you to select warmer clothes.

And that’s all you’d gotten from him.

You’d done as he suggested—raided the wardrobe and found some things you liked. A hat, a scarf. A pair of mittens you’d shoved in the pocket of the jacket you’d found in case you needed them too.

There were a few pairs of boots, all magically your size, just like the coats lining a rack towards the front. You mismatched the items you liked, what was warmest and textures you preferred before returning to the Doctor in the console room, arms full of warm clothes, because it was certainly too warm in the TARDIS to be putting them on now.

The Doctor had looked at everything in your arms and nodded, pleased with what you’d selected. He, like usual, didn’t bother with changing out of his suit and jacket, so you were sure it wouldn’t be too cold where ever it was the two of you were heading.

It wasn’t that much later that the TARDIS dropped in the familiar pattern of landing. You braced yourself, holding on while the Doctor landed her as peacefully as he could.

You were curious, leaning your body to the side to see out the doors as soon as the Doctor pushed them open slightly to peek at whatever was outside. A check he always did to make sure you guys were in the right place. A chilly breeze carried in from the door, making you shiver where you sat, arms curling into your body as an involuntary movement.

He hadn’t been teasing when he’d said you’d want warm clothes.

The Doctor shut the TARDIS doors before you could make anymore of a move to see your surprise destination, which prompted you to wrinkle your nose in an almost pout at the man.

The Doctor turned towards you, leaning back against the doors, where he grinned brightly before prompting the question that was more a tease than an actual inquiry, “so, are you ready?”

“Yes,” you huffed, smile widening as you pulled the boots you’d selected onto your socked feet, and tugged your jacket on as you rushed towards the door, hat and scarf falling to the floor as you moved. It was necessities only, as a child-like wonder filled you. Space was just so cool, and the Doctor was amazing at picking places you’d love.

You paused beside him, waiting for him to either move himself, or push the door open for you. He chose the latter, pushing the door open and letting you out like a puppy freed from a kennel. You stepped out in awe, looking around carefully.

Instantly, your feet shot out from under you, slipping on the icy ground, but instead of hitting the ground, the Doctor’s arms caught you under your arms and your back hit his chest instead of the ice below. You craned your neck to look back at him, a small, fond smile on his lips.

“Thank you,” you told him as he pushed you up. It was still incredibly slippery, but now you expected as much so it was easier to stay upright.

“My pleasure,” the Doctor grinned brightly. When you were upright and not in danger of falling for a second time, the Doctor withdrew his hands, but he was quick to throw the scarf you’d selected around your neck, then tug the hat you’d picked over your head as well.

With your balance retained, the new knowledge of the straight ice below you, and the support of the Doctor behind you, you finally had a chance to look around. You were standing on a sheet of ice, bigger and possibly more slippery than and ice rink you’d seen on earth. It was a straight sheet of black ice under you.

And if the ice wasn’t beautiful as it was, the night sky certainly did the trick. Up here you could see everything. The different colours of the galaxy were visible; purples, and dark blues and, of course, black. It was majorly black, but that didn’t make it any less beautiful. The stars shone brightly, almost twinkling in your eyes.

It looked almost like those images NASA releases that go viral online, but real—in real time, and visible to the naked eye-- completely mind blowing.

You looked around taking it all in. Reveling in the sheer beauty of this... planet?

You caught a glance at a planet beside you, so you weren’t really on the planet. But this was definitely a part of the planet. Then, in your peripheral vision, you saw it.

Earth. Small and insignificant, but there. Incredibly far away from where you were currently standing, but still visible.

“We’re in my galaxy,” you couldn’t help but mutter, taking in the Earth’s beauty from afar. You didn’t need the Doctor to confirm it, because you knew that was the Earth.

“We are,” the Doctor agreed, taking a step forward so he was standing by your side, instead of a step behind.

“This is... the rings. It’s Saturn, isn’t it?”

“Right you are,” the Doctor smiled, “clever girl. I thought I’d have to tell you. You said you wanted a night away from everything, so, I’ve brought you to your home universe. Not home exactly, by means of the planet, but close enough.”

“We’re standing on Saturn’s rings,” you mumbled, gaping around before pointing at Saturn, “that’s Saturn.”

“Yep,” the Doctor nodded, popping the ‘p’. He looked amused with your reactions to this mystery destination. He always watched so closely, and you were never really sure if you should be offended or prideful of his amusement.

You couldn’t help it though. You’d seen some awesome things with the Doctor, but this... this was planets you knew, in a galaxy you’d learned about in school. Your galaxy. This was familiar—Earth, and Saturn, and the moon you could barely see in the far distance. And you were seeing them up close, where no other had before.

“They’re beautiful,” you breathed out. “Much prettier up close.”

“I agree,” the Doctor gave a nod, lightly pushing his shoulder against yours and making you slide the slightest bit to the side. “But I didn’t bring you here to revel in the beauty, we can do that anywhere, anytime. There’s more to do than that!”

You bit your bottom lip as you shuffled your way back to where you’d been before sliding away, “is there?”

“Of course there is,” the Doctor snorted, holding his hand out to you, “come along, let’s head back to the TARDIS for a second. Can’t have you falling this early in the night.”

You grabbed his offered hand, and he pulled you back into the TARDIS with far more agility than you could even imagine having. You stepped in easily, happy to have solid, not slippery, ground below you. You followed the Doctor in, but paused as he jogged from the console room.

He was gone for no longer than a minute, before he was returning with two pairs of ice skates. You hadn’t seen them in the wardrobe, so you wondered briefly where he’d been hiding them. The sight of them excited you, much more than an answer to your question would’ve.

You’d been skating before, but you certainly weren’t a pro at it. You’d be winning no Olympic metals for your skating, but you still thought it was fun. And you’d spent most of your time on your feet that last time you’d gone, so that was a plus.

Besides, skating with the Doctor just made it sound like more fun than just skating would’ve.

“We’re skating?” you asked, even though the obvious answer was literally hanging from the Doctor’s fingers. He raised an eyebrow, grinning fondly as he gestured you towards the console room seat. You made your way to the seat, sitting down and stripping the boots from your feet.

You and the Doctor both got to work on slipping on the skates and tying them up. It wasn’t often you tied clunky ice skates, so it took a bit longer than it would’ve if you were just tying up your sneakers.

The Doctor finished before you’d even finished your first lace, and moved on to your second before you could stop him. You blew out a breathy laugh, as you leaned back, watching his fingers tie the laces with surprising speed.

“Nine-hundred years of laces and you start getting pretty good,” is all he mumbled as he finished up.

When he was done, the two of you stood, and slowly made your way across the grates that were the TARDIS flooring. It was a weird sensation, walking across the grades on nothing but a blade of metal.

When you stepped out with the skates, you slid easily away from the TARDIS. It was a lot easier taking on ice when you had a skate, instead of boots lacking decent grip. The Doctor followed behind you, hands buried in his pockets as he skated easily.

It definitely wasn’t his first time on the ice. He barely wobbled, confident in his ability. You weren’t as confident. But you were sure you’d manage to stay standing.

“You do a lot of skating?” You asked the Doctor as the two of you slowly started moving along. It was a lot easier to make your way on skates, the ice was clear and smooth and it carried the two of you perfectly.

“Here and there,” the Doctor shrugged. “But recently,” he gave you a small smile, “nah.”

The Doctor did a quick circle around you before joining you at your side.

You skated in a familiar, comfortable silence-- the sound of skates gliding on the ice quite relaxing. There wasn’t the usual hustle of crowded ice rinks, no push and pull, or overly ambitious skaters flinging themselves around you.

You hadn’t known you needed this, but you really had. The thought had never even crossed you mind, nor had you even thought it was possible, but you were incredibly grateful for the Doctor’s thought-out down time idea.

“How... how are we even doing this?” You asked slowly, still in awe at what the two of you were doing. It really didn’t seem possible, and, as far as you knew, humans couldn’t usually get anywhere near Saturn.

“It’s the TARDIS doing it,” the Doctor replied, “she creates an artificial environment, like how we can breathe when the doors are open in space. The atmosphere here, in the artificial environment, is no different than inside the TARDIS. But if we skate out of it, well... let’s not do that, alright?”

“Noted,” you huffed a quiet laugh. “I didn’t think it covered this far.”

You weren’t incredibly far away from the TARDIS. You could still see her, and make out the wording on the side of her paneling if you squinted, but you were definitely further than you’d assumed the artificial environment would’ve reached.

“It doesn’t,” the Doctor blinked, skating along without much thought, “not usually anyways. I can extend the environment at will from the control console, but it doesn’t last quite as long when it’s larger. We’ve got a few yards and a couple hours before we’ll need to return to the TARDIS and head to somewhere with oxygen—preferably earth since its closest.”

“Oh,” you hummed.

“No need to worry about that though,” the Doctor gave you a grin as he pushed ahead a bit, only to turn in front of you and skate backwards, “I’ll keep you safe. We’re here to have a bit of fun.”

The man withdrew his hands from his pockets, holding them out for you to take. You smiled in return, lifting your hands to rest in his, where he tightened his grip and pulled you along, skating as perfectly backwards as he had forwards.

His hands were warmer than yours, and you instantly gave a shiver at the pleasant warmth radiating from him. The mittens you’d picked were still tucked in your pocket, but you’d much rather the Doctor’s warm hands than the gloves.

“How’d you even think of this?” you asked as the two of you skated, almost like you were partner dancing. The Doctor leading you along, and you following blindly because you trusted him wholeheartedly. You barely even looked anywhere other than your joined hands, and the Doctor’s face.

“This is a popular activity on your earth, isn’t it?” You gave him a short nod, which prompted the Doctor on, “well, it’s fairly well known around the galaxy as well. And, well, I know you humans don’t have the technology to even really get close to Saturn—you've barely made contact with the moon, so you won’t be able to do much with Saturn for... I don’t know, many years. So, I wanted to give you something that no one else has had before.”

“Because no one thinks to go ice skating on Saturn’s rings?”

“Exactly!” The Doctor grinned, eyes sparkling like the stars above him. “No one thinks about it, but now we’ve done it. It’s completely doable, but still never done. Well, maybe not completely doable, we’re only able to because of the TARDIS. And she’s pretty one of a kind now.”

The Doctor casted a look back at the blue box that was slowly getting smaller the further you guys got from her. He looked back to you just as fast as he’d looked away, lips curling in a smile as he continued on, “we’re the first, as far as I’m aware, to do this. Plus, it’s close to home for you, but still... still in my domain. A perfect place for the two of us to spend the evening.”

“It is pretty perfect,” you agreed. You really did like looking to the side and seeing earth, and the moon in the distance. Knowing how close you were, but still up and away where everything was quiet and familiar, but also completely unfamiliar all the same. “I’m not sure I’ve ever been skating somewhere no loaded with people.”

“I’m glad you like it,” the man mumbled, completely honest and adorably proud of himself. “A quiet evening alone sounded nice when you mentioned it, but just sitting in the TARDIS is no fun—not when there’s so much to see and explore. We barely spend any time alone when we’re not in the TARDIS.”

And you couldn’t argue with that. You spent a lot of time with the Doctor, but very little of it was just the two of you. More often than not, someone else was tagging along. Or you’d stumble upon someone.

You skated a while longer, conversation flowing easily. You liked to just listen to the Doctor talk, about whatever happened to come to his mind. Together you danced along the ice, hands barely straying from each other now that you’d felt the warmth and connection.

It was just a warm and easy atmosphere despite the chill sinking into your bones. Just you and the Doctor and nothing, or anyone else to worry about. Perfect for a night away from everything.

Utterly perfect.

Well, except for--

You weren’t sure if it was you, or the Doctor whose skate hit a chunk of debris from outer space. You’d known that Saturn’s rings weren’t solely ice, but it was still a shock as the two of you tumbled down.

You’d seen nothing but smooth, untouched ice and you honestly had no idea where the bump in the road had come from.

The Doctor tripped first, falling backwards. You weren’t sure if you’d tripped too, or if the Doctor had accidently tugged you down along with him, but in the end, you’d landing on him. Him breaking your fall.

“Are you okay?” You gaped out, too stunned to be trying to get off him. It had barely even registered in your mind that you were, in fact, laying on the Doctor.

One second, you’d been gliding peacefully with the Doctor leading you along gracefully, and then next, the two of you were a messed pile of sprawled limbs on the ground.

The Doctor looked just as stunned as you felt, eyeing your face in a silent analysis, before his eyes widened and his cheeks started to darken in colour. He didn’t say, or do anything, so you continued fretting over him, “did you hit your head?”

“No,” he mumbled, voice a bit higher than usual. He was quick to change that though, clearing his throat before continuing, “no, I didn’t. I’m alright. Nothing that hasn’t happened before. Perfectly fine.”

His eyes studied you again, looking up at you from where he was trapped between the ice and you, “what about you, are you alright?” His voice had returned to normal, but the flush on his cheeks certainly hadn’t.

“I’m alright,” you blinked in surprise before ginning teasingly down at him, “I had a pretty soft landing, actually.”

The Doctor let out a surprised bark of laughter, grin so wide that the skin at the corner of his eyes crinkled happily. You liked that look on the Doctor, cheeks flushed lightly and smile wide and bright.

You beamed at the response from the Doctor, before your words promptly caught up to you. And following those, the position the two of you had landed in.

You were on the Doctor. Still. You were laying on the Doctor. You were using the Doctor as a cushion, and he hadn’t said anything about it.

“Oh,” you exhaled before your brain caught up. Then, a little louder and a bit more embarrassed, “oh, uh, I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to land on you!”

Below you, you felt the Doctor vibrate with a chuckle, “I don’t mind,” he tilted his head, “honestly, better me than you. Time-Lords are rather durable.”

“Don’t say that,” you scoffed as you finally started to pull yourself away.

You rolled off him, finding that faster than actually standing up to get off him as quickly as you could. You pulled yourself to your knees before reaching a hand out to help the Doctor sit up. “Are you sure you’re alright? That was a hard fall, and... and then I landed on you?”

“I’m fine,” the Doctor nodded, “perfectly fine. A bit chilly now, but fine nonetheless.”

You looked at him skeptically, eyeing his sitting form before finally allowing the answer. Mostly. “Maybe that’s enough skating for one night, eh?”

“If you’re done,” the Doctor nodded, “don’t stop on my account, I’m good to go. Takes a harder hit than that to deter me.”

You frowned at him, knowing full well he’d want to keep going if you did, even if he was cold and maybe a bit sore. That’s just who the Doctor was.

Thankfully, you knew there was one thing he couldn’t ignore.

“I’m actually getting pretty cold now.”

And that thing happened to be your needs.

“We’ll head back then,” the Doctor told you as he pulled himself to his feet, brushing off the snow dust that had gotten stuck to the back of his legs and his coat. You followed his lead, standing and brushing the cool dust from your own knees before sweeping your hand down the Doctor’s back to aid in removing the snow.

He ran his hand through the back of his hair, dusting what was clinging to his hair before finally turning to you, and offering you a hand. “I promise we won’t hit the ground again.”

You laughed as you took his hand again and then the two of you were skating back towards the TARDIS.

“You know what a lot of people do after ice skating on earth?” You asked as you glided across the ice, making slow progress back. Maybe it was the recent fall, or just delaying the end a while longer.

“No, what do you humans do?”

“Make a nice, steaming cup of hot cocoa to warm up. Useful and delicious. Interested by any chance?”

The Doctor turned to look at you briefly, expression adorning and smile wide, “how could I ever turn down an offer like that?”

“A perfect end to a perfect evening,” you hummed, looking up at him, sliding a little closer to his side. He looked down at you, giving you a fond hum of agreement.

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Here’s some awesome fanart made by @nicole-lightfoot! I loved it, so I thought I’d share with everyone else who checks out the the fic! Thank you for the fanart, it’s beautiful!

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As always, I hope you enjoyed! Feel free to prompt me again if it wasn’t what you were looking for! Thanks once more for the prompt, it was perfect! And hopefully things sound right, since I’ve only been skating a handful of times :D

Anyways, have a great day/night!

#Tenth Doctor #tenth doctor x reader #tenth doctor x you #10th doctor #10th doctor x reader #10th doctor x you #doctor who #doctor who 2005 #reader insert #TARDIS #writing prompt #fanfiction #fanfic

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quickspinner · 4 years

Text

Haste to the Wedding

Here’s my fic for the @lukanette-exchange, for @misslenamooney! I hope you like it! The prompts were “Lukanette, happy Marinette, and if you’re feeling a bit salty, you can salt on Alya and Lila.“ I only have the faintest sprinkling of salt here, more like an echo of the past than anything else, but it was a convenient frame for the story. Anyway, I hope you enjoy! This will be up on AO3 later today.

Come haste to the wedding ye friends and ye neighbours The lovers their bliss can no longer delay. Forget all your sorrows your cares and your labors, And let every heart beat with rapture today. ~ Haste to the Wedding, traditional Gaelic jig.

“Oh, Marinette, it’s so perfect,” Alya breathed, bouncing slightly and then stilling before Marinette could reprimand her. The gown was lovely, the white lace making beautiful patterns against Alya’s darker skin where Marinette had left it open, and forming a more subtle texture in the areas where the dress was lined for modesty. It skimmed Alya’s body beautifully before flaring in a subtle trumpet shape towards the bottom, with just enough train in the back to form a nice shape on the ground behind her. All in all, Marinette felt very satisfied with it. Sophisticated and strong enough for the tough reporter, with a touch of the whimsy and fantasy that one expected in a wedding dress.

Alya was glowing with happiness, and Marinette smiled absently as she selected another pin from a cushion on her wrist. They’d grown apart a bit, going to different lycées and both traveling extensively for their careers, so they didn’t get to see each other often and sometimes didn’t speak directly for months at a time, but they were still good friends, and when Alya had called and asked Marinette to personally design her wedding dress, there was no question of saying no. Marinette had even hesitantly offered to work with Alya on the wedding planning, since she’d be in Paris much more than Alya over the coming months, but somewhat to her relief, Alya had dismissed her offer, telling her she’d run into another old friend who was starting up a wedding planning business and that she was taking care of everything. Marinette wasn’t sorry to be exempted from the planning (and also from bridesmaid duties, since Alya had decided to have only her sisters attend her).

Now she need only worry about the dress, which Alya of course insisted only Marinette could do. Alya had opted for a crisp white pantsuit look for the civil ceremony at City Hall, saving her wedding dress for the fancifully American-style wedding reception they had planned for the next day.

Despite her faith in her friend, Alya had been a bit nervous, Marinette could tell, about having most of their consultations long-distance, but Marinette was used to it, and she had treated Alya like any of her several high-profile clients that couldn’t always meet with her in person. Marinette’s professionalism and smooth process had seemed to soothe Alya’s worries, and they had managed a couple of in-person meetups for the most critical stages.

The only thing that had given Marinette pause was the idea of not having a final fitting until the day before the wedding, but it really couldn’t be helped. Marinette preferred to have multiple redundant contingency plans and plenty of time to implement them. She’d had several mini-meltdowns at the very idea of a huge last-minute problem, and had actually been in the middle of one when Alya walked in the door, fresh from the civil ceremony and glowing with happiness and excitement. The irrational panic that Alya wouldn’t like the dress had melted away as soon as Alya caught sight of it and let out a deafening squeal, and once the dress was on, it became apparent that Marinette’s assistant had been right in telling her to have more faith in her own skill. The dress was nearly perfect. No emergencies, no last minute creative fixes, no (or at least, no more than usual) stress. Marinette only had to pin the hem to the final length for Alya’s shoes and finish it that night, and it would be ready for tomorrow.

She just had to endure Alya’s teasing until then. “Marinette, come on, spill,” the bride urged. “I know something’s going on with you and Luka since he got back from his tour. I just want to know what it is!”

“So do I,” Marinette muttered, selecting another pin from the cushion on her wrist. “I don’t know, Alya, we’ve been flirting a lot and there’s been...I mean, he’s always been a touchy-feely person, so I don’t know if it means anything—”

“Girl, when it comes to you Luka has always meant something and you know it.”

Marinette blushed, but she couldn’t deny it. Luka had never pressed his admiration on her but he never hid it, either, and Marinette had never been unaffected by it. Busy as they were with their own careers, both made it a point to make time to see each other whenever the two of them were in the same city, and the meetings were always comfortable, enjoyable, brief, and just on the edge of flirtatious, charged with potential they never had time to explore. Since he’d come back from his tour and she’d actually managed to be in town for a few months consecutively, they’d met up a few times now (more than a few) and it was—it was so fun, and Luka was so sweet and smooth and it felt so good to be the center of someone’s attention, and they’d always had so much chemistry together, and she was really starting to think that maybe—

Focus, she thought, sticking some pins in her mouth as an excuse not to speak. Fortunately, Alya’s mind was too focused on the wedding to pester Marinette for long.

“We thought about asking if he could play the wedding, but I know it’s not normally his thing, and my friend said she had some other options, and boy, did she! And how amazing will it be to have Jagged Stone playing the reception? It’ll be huge for Nino, for people to know he has enough connections to get someone that big to play—Marinette? Are you okay?”

Marinette’s head had snapped up to stare wide-eyed at Alya, and she was completely frozen now, a sick feeling forming in her stomach. Slowly she took the pins out of her mouth, sitting back on her heels as she looked up at Alya. “Alya,” Marinette began hesitantly. “Jagged’s in Greece. He has three back to back shows scheduled over the next three nights, and two more shortly after. There’s no way he’s going to be in Paris tomorrow.”

Alya’s mouth dropped open slightly, and then she laughed. “That can’t be right, Marinette! He’s been booked for the wedding for six months!”

“Six months?” Marinette echoed, her brows coming together as that sick feeling got worse. “Alya, Jagged’s schedule is booked out for two years at least.”

“Well yeah, for normal people.” Alya flapped a hand dismissively. “But Lila said—” She paused and bit her lip. “I mean—for you know, people with connections…” but she trailed off as Marinette laid her pins aside and stood up.

“You let Lila book the band for your wedding?” Marinette demanded, and then at Alya’s guilty look, she sucked in a horrified breath. “Lila is your old friend that’s in the wedding planning business?”

“See, this is why I didn’t want to tell you,” Alya sighed, twisting her hands together. “I know you guys never got along and I knew you’d be mad.”

“Mad isn’t the word I would use,” Marinette sighed, pacing the floor and pulling at her hair. “Alya, how much of the wedding did Lila book?”

“Almost all of it,” Alya shrugged. “My mom got us the venue and she’s doing the catering, and I insisted on having you do my dress, but Lila booked everything else.” She smiled dreamily. “It’s going to be beautiful, Marinette, she got so many incredible things and her budget was so reasonable. Her business is really going to take off after everybody sees how well she’s done. I was a little nervous, but I knew she could pull it off.”

Marinette just stared at her for a moment, her lips in a firm line, and then she pulled out her phone. “Just a minute, Alya,” she muttered, and dialed. It went to voicemail, as she expected. “Hey, Penny, this is Marinette. I was um, working on a project that I wanted Jagged to see, and since I hear he’s going to be in Paris tomorrow, I was hoping he could make some time for me. No pressure, just, if he’s available. Please let me know either way.”

She hung up the phone and put it back in her pocket, trying to keep her face neutral. “Alya,” she said quietly, “What did Lila book for you?”

Alya shrugged. “Everything except the dress, which of course had to be you, the food, which of course had to be my mom, and the venue, which we already had reserved through one of my mom’s contacts. Flowers—oh, you should have seen the pictures she sent me they were to die for—favors for the guests, the band obviously, the cake—she tried to get your parents but they were booked solid and we agreed we shouldn’t bother you about it—the makeup and hair and photographer, from all that modeling she’s done you know, and the decorations.”

Marinette took a deep breath and sat down in a chair, covering her mouth with her hands. This was going to be a disaster. Alya’s wedding was going to be a disaster. Oh, the important stuff was still there, at least no one would go hungry and they weren’t going to have hundreds of guests descend on some poor bewildered staff person demanding to be let in to a wedding that didn’t exist. Alya and Nino were already legally married and they could still—

“Lila doesn’t have the rings, right?” Marinette demanded, looking up sharply.

“No, Nino does,” Alya frowned, putting her hands on her hips. “Marinette, what is your problem?”

Marinette got up and swatted Alya’s hands away from the fabric irritably. “Don’t, you’ll soil it. My problem is that Lila has never delivered on a single thing she promised you. Have you actually talked to any of these people yourself?”

“No, but Lila and I have been talking every week and she sent me pictures and samples and she did all the consultations. I didn’t have to worry about a thing!”

Marinette moaned, tossing her head back. “You never confirmed anything she booked?”

Alya rolled her eyes. “She sent me invoices for all of them! I can show you the check stubs if you’re that upset about it.”

“You wrote checks?” Marinette gasped. Charges on a credit card they might have been able to dispute, but—okay, no, this was too much. She’d worry about that part later. “Did you sign a contract with her?”

Alya scoffed. “Of course not, we’re friends.”

Marinette pressed her lips together and folded her arms and reminded herself that Nino would be upset if she strangled his bride the night before the wedding. “We’re friends,” she pointed out tightly, gesturing between herself and Alya. “I still made you sign a contract.”

Alya rolled her eyes. “Well, you’ve always been anal like that.”

“Anal like—” Marinette stopped, turning her back for a second to breathe, and before she could formulate a response her phone beeped with an incoming video message.

She set it to play on speaker. “Hi, Marinette,” Penny Rolling said, looking pristine as always despite the chaos behind her. “Always great to hear from you! Unfortunately it seems like there’s been some kind of misunderstanding? Jagged’s not scheduled to be in Paris again for two more months. I know he’d want to see what you’re working on, so text me later and we can work out a video call instead. So sorry for the mixup. Talk to you soon.”

Marinette looked up at Alya, who was doing a credible impression of a fish.

“That’s just—okay, so there was a misunderstanding, you’ve told me how Jagged is, I’m sure—maybe he forgot to tell Penny and she didn’t put it on his calendar, but it’s just one thing, there’s no need to—”

“Alya.” Marinette met her friend’s gaze steadily and Alya cut off, seeming to shrink a little. “This is your wedding. Do you really want to take the chance?”

Alya just stared at her.

“Call the florist first,” Marinette said calmly. Too calmly, she knew, but she also knew that Alya was finally listening, because the color drained from her face and she began fumbling for her phone.

Not bothering to wait for the outcome, Marinette pulled out her sketchbook and flipped to a fresh page, making a list down the page as she frantically thought about her options. In a few moments she had a plan sketched out and was dialing her own phone.

“Adrien,” Marinette bit out as soon as he picked up. “Did you know that Nino and Alya’s wedding planner was Lila?”

There was a good thirty seconds of silence on the other end of the line before Adrien breathed, “Oh no. No, I didn’t know, it never even occurred to me to…what are we going to do, Marinette?”

“We’re going to fix this disaster so our friends can have the wedding they deserve,” Marinette said as if it was simple. “You’re on photography and flowers. I know you hate trading on your name and your contacts but so help me, you better use every ounce of fame you have to get this done—”

“I’ll do it,” Adrien said quickly. “I’ll do it. And count on me to cover the cost of whatever else you need to get. Whatever premium you have to promise.”

“I’ll hold you do that,” Marinette told him, and then glanced over her shoulder. An increasingly panicked-looking Alya wasn’t even paying attention to her. “And call Nino and tell him he better get back here now. Thanks, chaton.”

“You can always count on me, my lady. So can Alya and Nino.”

“All right, I’ll call if I need anything else.” She hung up the phone and dialed again.

“Hi, boss,” a chipper voice greeted her.

“Sabrina,” Marinette sighed, unable to match her assistant’s cheerful tone. “Listen, there’s been a problem with Alya’s wedding and I need you to ransack the warehouse for decorations. Anything that we might use for a wedding photoshoot. And start calling any stylist and makeup artist who’s ever done well for us and get them on board to do wedding hair and makeup tomorrow. I know it’s short notice but we need somebody on board in a hurry. Money is no object. Adrien’s footing the bill so if you need a credit card or something, call him. He’ll be expecting you.”

“Colors?” Sabrina asked, and Marinette smiled at the brusque tone and lack of questioning. She’d been nervous when Sabrina had called her looking for a job, having been fired (again) by Chloe, but taking her on was going on Marinette’s list of best management decisions ever. Sabrina was a huge asset to Marinette’s successful and growing business, and the only assistant Marinette had ever hired that was detail-oriented and organized enough to keep up with her.

“Orange, mint, and forest green,” she replied, making a note on her list to text that to Adrien as well for the florist. “Just have the guys pile it all in the van and we’ll sort through it when we get there. Grab whatever you can find in the scrap fabrics, too. I’m not sure it’ll be much but we’ll work with whatever we can have.” She paused. “Sabrina, this is a personal favor, not a job, but I—”

“Got it, boss,” Sabrina chirped. “Text me the address and what time the venue opens, and I’ll meet you in the morning.”

“Thanks, Sabrina,” Marinette smiled, making a mark on her list.

Next, she called her mother, made Sabine put her on speaker so that Tom could hear, and begged shamelessly, using every “Papa’s little girl” trick she could think of to get them on board. Naturally, Tom couldn’t refuse. Marinette felt guilty for putting that much work on them but she’d find a way to make it up to them later.

Looking at the next item on her list, she hesitated. She set her phone down and pressed her hands to her face, and then looked back down at the list, feeling her face heat. She knew what she needed to do—she knew who she needed to call, but…

She glanced up at Alya, who was sitting motionless in her chair, the phone in her lap, staring into space with a blank expression that was...bad. On Alya, it was really bad.

Marinette took a deep breath and dialed the phone. She put a hand over her racing heart and pressed as if that would stop the fluttering.

“Hey, beautiful,” a warm, deep voice said, and Marinette smiled in spite of herself. “Didn’t think I’d hear from you today. Figured you’d be busy.”

“H-hey, Luka,” she said, and swallowed, hating the stutter. “I—well, I am busy, but I—that is, I mean—argh.” She groaned, and pressed the heel of her hand to her forehead. God, she hated to do this. “I need a favor,” she said through gritted teeth, and then sighed. “A big one. Huge. A really big, I-have-no-right-to-ask-you-this-sized favor.”

“I’m listening,” Luka said, unruffled as always, a touch of amusement in his voice.

“So, the wedding,” Marinette took a breath and blew it out. “Well, long story short, the band fell through. A lot of things fell through, actually, and we’re really scrambling to fix everything and I know this is super, super short notice and I won’t blame you one bit if you tell me to jump ship, but—but this is really important to me, Luka, and I...I…”

“You want me to find you a band in less than twenty-four hours?” Luka asked incredulously.

“W-well,” Marinette cringed, fisting the fabric of her skirt in her hand. “I was sort of hoping you’d be the band? Not that I don’t trust you, I’m sure anybody you could get would be great, but you’re amazing, and I really need amazing for this. This—I can’t explain everything but this is not going to be the wedding Nino and Alya had counted on and I really, really need it to be the best we can possibly give them, and you’re definitely the best, so—please, Luka, I’m begging, I’ll do anything, Adrien’s covering all the expenses and we’ll come up with a number to make it worth it for you and anyone you can bring with you, and I’m sure there’s going to be industry contacts there because of Nino, and I just—”

“Marinette,” Luka said firmly, and she shut her mouth abruptly.

“Yes?” she ventured, when Luka didn’t say anything more.

“What time do you need me to be there?” he asked, and she could hear his smile. “I’m not sure if I can get the rest of the guys, or even subs, it might just be me—”

“You’re more than enough,” Marinette assured him, and then blushed. “I mean. Well. You are. Anyway, I, um...I’ll text you the details and you let me know how it turns out with the others.”

“Yeah, sure. Be sure and send me anything they wanted as far as the set list. First dance and all that.” He chuckled. “I haven’t played many weddings but I remember that much at least.”

“Okay,” Marinette said, glancing aside as the door opened and Nino came through, expression worried. “I’ll probably have Nino get in touch with you directly about that stuff. I’m so sorry to ask this of you, Luka, I...I feel like I’m taking advantage…”

“Marinette,” Luka’s voice was velvety, rich and alluring, and despite the situation it sent a shiver down her spine. “You can take advantage of me any time you want.”

Mairnette scrunched her shoulders as a fierce blush spread over her face. “Luka,” she whined, and he laughed.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” he told her, still in that voice. “Save a dance for me.”

The call cut off and Marinette dropped the phone in her lap, dropped her head in her hands, and squealed softly.

Okay. Plenty of time later to think about her complicated relationship with the guitarist and how much she’d been wondering lately if kissing him stupid would uncomplicate it or make it worse. For now, Alya was coming out of her catatonic state, Marinette’s phone was already blowing up with texts from Adrien and Sabrina and her mother, and she had a disaster to mitigate.

At least that was something she was good at. She picked up her notebook and marched over to Alya and Nino.

***

It could have been worse, Marinette reflected with satisfaction as she looked around the party hall. Sabrina was a miracle worker, and that was a fact. Resourceful and much more ruthless than her (current) employer, she knew how to use her contacts and how to trade on Adrien’s name and wealth to get things done. Marinette only hoped they hadn’t screwed anyone over too badly.

“You know it’s bad form to outshine the bride at her wedding,” said a deep voice in her ear, and Marinette jumped and whirled to smack Luka in the shoulder as he laughed. She pouted and shook her finger in his face. “No flirting until after your set.”

“All right,” he chuckled, catching her hand and bringing it down gently as he smiled at her. “You’re the boss today.” His thumb rubbed over the back of her hand in a way that made his words a lie. “Where should we set up?”

“We?” Marinette blinked, her mouth dropping open slightly as she finally tore her eyes from Luka to look over his shoulder, where three other people stood with instrument cases and bored expressions.

“I called in some favors,” he grinned. “I’ll probably be playing dive bars and who knows what else for weeks to pay this back, but...anything for you, Marinette.”

She should have scolded him for flirting again, but she couldn’t because she knew that he meant it. He was only laying it on so thick now because she’d been flirting back and encouraging him over the last few weeks, and when he looked at her like that, well...she had a hard time being sorry.

Luka raised his eyebrows slightly and she realized he was still waiting for an answer to his question. He was still rubbing her hand with his thumb, though, too, and Marinette whipped her hand away and turned on her heel, calling “Follow me.”

“Anywhere,” he said softly behind her, and she bit her lip, trying not to giggle like a teenager.

Once she had led him to the stage and the sound system, he sobered a bit, clearly settling into professional mode as he gave his bandmates instructions for setting up. Marinette hovered while he checked the stage lights and asked for some adjustments. The venue staff accommodated him with admirable speed. Marinette was called away for a bit to consult with the frazzled, tired-but-triumphant florist and figure out how best to distribute what they had managed to acquire. She was surprised at how much there was. A lot of it was white but it was tastefully mixed with the orange and pale green blossoms. It would do, distributed correctly.

When she returned, the band was set up and tuning up for their sound check. Marinette checked the time nervously.

“Don’t worry, we’ll be ready,” Luka’s normally soft voice boomed through the sound system, and she jumped slightly. She looked up to find him at the microphone, guitar slung across his shoulders, and as he tossed back his hair and smiled at her, she was reminded of the boy from the boat, Juleka’s brother, the boy who gave her rides on his bike and smiled at her with soft eyes and played songs that resonated in her heart.

Almost as if he could hear her, his hands went to the strings, but it wasn’t her heart that he played this time. She recognized the intro to Alya and Nino’s first dance song, though it sounded more vibrant with Luka’s distinctive rock edge. It would be perfect for them, she noted absently. Luka’s eyes found her again and he smirked. Marinette was barely aware of the drums picking up the rhythm and the bass coming in a bit late as Luka took a breath and sang, low and smooth, his eyes on her.

“What would I do without your smart mouth, drawing me in and you kicking me out, you’ve got my head spinning, no kidding, I can’t pin you down. What’s going on in that beautiful mind? I’m on your magical mystery ride, and I’m so dizzy, don’t know what hit me, but I’ll be all right.”

He dropped his eyes, and Marinette thought he might be blushing as he launched into the chorus. She put a hand over her heart and sighed at the way it beat against her hand as she closed her eyes to listen to him singing All of me loves all of you…

It gave her goosebumps. Luka wasn’t Jagged Stone, and he didn’t try to be. His voice was so rich and full it seemed to fill the space and make everything sound closer and more intimate.

He cut off abruptly and stepped back, motioning his bandmates to cut off. “Okay, can we bring the bass up just a little bit?” The guy working the sound waved an acknowledgement, and they played the lead-in again. This time Luka nodded in satisfaction, and then turned back to ask his bandmates something Marinette couldn’t hear.

They ran through parts of a few other of the more important songs, and Marinette was more and more impressed at the way Luka managed to fit the songs to his own style, without changing the substance.

When he was satisfied with the way everything sounded, they all put the instruments in their stands and came down off the stage.

Luka opened his mouth to say something but Marinette raised up on her toes, took his face in her hands and kissed him briefly on the mouth. “Thank you so much for doing this,” she told him. “You’re really my hero today.”

He licked his lips, and made a visible effort to drag his gaze from her mouth to her eyes, but they flicked right back again when Marinette bit her lip again to keep in another fit of giggles that wanted to burst from her. He always had that effect on her. She patted his cheek. “I have to go check on Alya, but I’ll catch up with you in a bit, okay?”

“Sure,” he managed finally, and cleared his throat as she turned away. She got a few steps away before he called her name and she turned back.

“You really do look beautiful,” he said simply, and Marinette blushed, hands going automatically to smooth her simple pink and mint cocktail dress.

“Thanks, Luka,” she said, watching his eyes follow the slight shrug of her bare shoulders. “You look really good too. I like your usual look, but you clean up nicely too.” She winked at him. “Don’t forget you promised me a dance after your set.”

Luka’s mouth dropped open slightly and he looked a bit as if he’d been hit in the back of the head with a board. Marinette tossed her hair and blew him a kiss, and if she put a little extra sway in her hips as she walked away, it was just for the sake of making her skirt swish that little bit more.

Behind her, Luka put a hand to his heart and pretended to faint into his bandmate’s arms. “She’s gonna kill me,” he muttered with a happy sigh.

“So long as I get paid first, mate,” his drummer grunted, heaving him off.

***

Alya cried when she saw the hall, despite all the ladies in the group converging on her and begging her not to make her eyes puffy on her big day. In all honesty her eyes were already puffy from the hopeless weeping that had followed her denial and disbelief, but the makeup artist Sabrina found did a masterful job hiding it, and the glow of Alya’s happiness and relief did anything else that was wanted.

It maybe wasn’t the decorations Alya had picked out, or the hairstyle Alya had decided on, or exactly the shade of eyeshadow she had planned on, but it all came together just fine. No one would ever know the disaster the wedding had almost been. Marinette spared a moment to viciously wish that Lila might see the social media pictures of just how lovely it had all turned out in spite of her, before putting the horrible woman out of her mind entirely.

“You’re a miracle worker as always,” Adrien sighed as they paused for a congratulatory fist bump.

“Sabrina gets most of the credit,” Marinette observed. “She did a lot of the legwork, and we for sure wouldn’t have been able to do as much without you backing us. It sure would be nice if I could find the money to put a bonus in her next paycheck.”

Adrien nodded. “How about you overcharge me for a custom suit for the charity ball I have to attend next month?”

“That should do it,” Marinette agreed. “Have your assistant call Sabrina, we’ll set something up.”

“Still,” Adrien said, nudging Marinette with a cat-like grin spreading across his face. “Somehow I doubt Sabrina had much to do with the music for tonight.”

“No, that was Nino,” Marinette replied airily. “He called in a favor with a DJ friend of his that was on the guest list anyway.”

“Uh-huh. And the live music?” Adrien nudged her a little harder and Marinette shoved him off so hard he nearly fell.

“I’m going to check on the cake,” she announced, though she knew her parents had delivered it to Mme Césare’s staff earlier and that they surely knew what they were doing.

The ring ceremony went off without a hitch, with Alya’s sisters at her side and Adrien and Noel at Nino’s, without any hint of the drama that had been going on behind the scenes since yesterday.

And the dress, Marinette noted with satisfaction, looked perfect.

Then Alya and Nino took the dance floor, and Luka took over the mic, and then he was singing again, in that voice that gave her goosebumps. It had been quite a while since she had seen him perform live, and she hadn’t exactly forgotten the way he could command a room, but it still gave her the shivers. She drifted closer and closer to the stage as she moved through the crowd, and then suddenly she was looking up at Luka, and he was looking down at her, and Marinette might have felt self-conscious except that everyone else was locked on Alya and Nino. No one had any attention to notice the way they were looking at each other as Luka sang, “You’re my downfall, you’re my muse, my worst distraction, my rhythm and blues. I can’t stop singing, it’s ringing in my head for you.”

Really, to Marinette, it felt like all those other people weren’t even there.

***

She was looking for him, once the band had wrapped up and the DJ had taken over, and he still managed to come up from behind and surprise her.

“Is now a good time for that dance?”

“Luka, stop sneaking up on me,” Marinette scolded, turning to find him grinning down at her once again.

“I’m not even sorry,” he told her, chuckling as he held out his hand. “May I?”

Marinette rolled her eyes, but she was grinning as she put her hand in his and let him guide her onto the dance floor, where his broad, warm hands settled on her waist as her own delicate hands joined behind his neck.

“You did an awesome job up there,” Marinette told him as they swayed. “Really. Jagged Stone himself couldn’t have done better.”

Luka snorted. “As if Jagged could ever contain himself enough to play a wedding. He’d be upstaging the bride every chance that he got.”

“That...is probably true,” Marinette admitted. She loved the rock star, but she was by no means blind to his faults, which included being extremely self-absorbed and a natural attention magnet. It really was better that he hadn’t been here.

She sighed. “I still can’t believe Alya thought Lila could actually deliver on all those promises. I thought after everything—but she did eventually manage to lie her way into some real connections, so I guess maybe she had just enough authenticity to sound credible this time.”

“Don’t think about her,” Luka said softly, whisking her into a turn. “I don’t like the faces you make when you do,” he teased, lifting one hand to stroke the deep crease between her brows. “You pulled it off, Marinette. Look at Alya and Nino. They couldn’t be any happier, so just dance with me and forget about all that mess. What’s on the big calendar for this week, hm? Or should I even ask?”

“Actually, I was wondering if maybe I could take you to dinner,” Marinette said as lightly as she could manage. “As a thank you.”

Luka looked away for a second. “I think you already know I’d love to go out with you, Marinette,” Luka said, his voice serious even though he was still smiling when he looked back at her. “But I’d rather it not be out of pity, or even gratitude. I want you on your own terms.”

Of course he did. That was just...so Luka. Marinette took a deep breath and shifted a little closer to him, letting her fingers drift up to toy with the hair at the nape of his neck. “Okay.”

“Okay?” he repeated, the eyes that had gone half-lidded at her touch snapping open.

“Okay,” Marinette confirmed. “Here’s my terms. I work a lot. My business is very deadline driven and I’m very hands-on with a lot of people as part of the fitting process. It’s entirely professional, entirely necessary, and you have to be okay with it.”

“I can handle that,” Luka agreed, looking as cool as ever, but they were now moving ever so slightly off-beat with the music, so she knew he was rattled.

“I can’t always be home to cook dinner. I might not even be home to eat dinner. I’ve worked really hard to get where I am and in a couple more years I might be able to bring on more staff, but that’s not a guarantee.”

“I’d never ask you to stop pursuing your passion, Marinette,” Luka told her, the corner of his mouth tilting up. “But if you’re not taking care of yourself, if you’re not eating and sleeping enough to at least function, I’m gonna ask you to slow down.”

“Fair,” Marinette acknowledged. “I travel a lot. I’ll be in other cities a lot, on my own, with a lot of clients and models. The tabloids like to stir up trouble and it’s only a matter of time before they have me shacking up with somebody. I expect you to talk to me before you jump to any conclusions.”

“Of course,” he said so simply that she believed him.

Marinette took a deep breath. “Sometimes I have to be places that I can’t explain,” she said softly, no longer looking him in the eye. “I don’t want to have to lie and come up with excuses, so...I need you to just trust me. And if it gets to be too much...I need you to tell me that too, so we can stay friends when we split up.”

“Okay,” Luka said, raising his eyebrows slightly. “Is that all?”

Marinette shrugged and tried to smile. “Mostly, yeah.”

“All right then,” Luka grinned, twirling her around. “I accept your terms. Are you ready to hear mine?”

“O-okay,” Marinette stammered.

“We’re in the same boat on the travel. I work a lot of odd jobs and weird hours,” Luka began. “My schedule’s never the same from week to week. I work a lot of late nights and I hate mornings.”

“Me too,” Marinette giggled. “I think I can live with that. What else?”

“I get hit on kind of a lot,” he said, looking away slightly as a faint hint of red colored his cheeks. “When I play a gig. And this tour was—it was crazy, even though we were just the opening act. Some people get a little handsy. I don’t like it, I don’t ask for it, and it’s got nothing to do with things between us—no matter what it looks like when you walk up. So, same courtesy? Talk to me before you freak out?”

“I don’t freak out as easily as I used to,” Marinette mumbled, blushing herself. “But yeah, I got it. Okay. I don’t really like that people are touching you when you don’t want them to, though. I can’t promise I won’t bend a thumb or two if they’re where they don’t belong.”

“Hmm, we’ll negotiate on that,” Luka chuckled, pinching her waist lightly. “I don’t personally mind but I don’t want my girlfriend getting kicked out of every club in Paris.” He gave her a soft look. “And you would be my girlfriend. I’m not interested in dating around if being with you is an option.”

Marinette blushed harder, but put her nose in the air and pretended to consider. “Hm. That sounds reasonable. Besides, I don’t mind making time for you, but otherwise I’m way too busy to date.” She held her “Chloe face” for another moment and then broke down in giggles, and Luka laughed too, and they collapsed against each other for a moment, Luka’s forehead coming down to rest on hers as they snickered. Marinette closed her eyes, breathing in the peace and contentment she always felt with him, and wondered why they hadn’t had this talk sooner. It felt so...right.

Reluctantly, Marinette pushed him back after a moment, pulling him back into the dance.

“I don’t want to steal Alya’s spotlight,” she murmured, glancing at her glowing friend, floating around the room on her new husband’s arm. “She’s already going to be mad enough we stole her song.”

“Did we?” Luka chuckled, and Marinette grinned.

“I think we did. It sure felt like it to me.”

“Yeah, it did,” Luka sighed. “I should probably be sorry about that. Hopefully everyone else was focused on the bride and groom. But seriously, I think you’ve already kind of stolen the show here. You say you didn’t do much but I was talking to Adrien a bit before.” He shook his head. “You’re amazing. Anyone else would have just patted her back and left her to figure it out on her own.”

“I don’t think that’s true,” Marinette sighed. “I just happened to have the resources to make it happen.”

“Because you’re amazing,” Luka chuckled.

Marinette’s lips twitched as she tried not to smile too broadly, pretending to dust something off his shoulder as an excuse not to look at him for a moment. “Maybe. It did turn out pretty nicely, after all. I guess I deserve some credit for that.” She glanced up at his face, half-afraid he’d be put off by her lack of modesty, but he just squeezed her waist lightly and nodded.

“Absolutely. The business you’ve built at your age, it’s incredible. You’re so dedicated and driven and passionate, it blows my mind. Makes me feel like I’m really slacking. If I had your dedication I’d be on my third album by now.”

“You would be,” Marinette chided, squeezing his arm. “If you’d accepted Jagged’s help.”

Luka sighed and looked away. “That’s complicated, Marinette.”

“I know,” Marinette said, giving him a sympathetic look. “And you’re doing great on your own. Are the final numbers in from the tour yet? I know you were waiting to hear.”

A smile tugged at the corner of Luka’s mouth. “Yeah. They’re, um...they’re pretty good. Really good, actually. Nothing’s certain yet, but I’m pretty sure they’re going to pick up our option for the next album.”

“Really?” Marinette screeched in a whisper, bouncing on her toes. “Luka, that’s amazing!” She popped up on her toes and pressed a quick kiss to his lips. Her eyes went round when she realized what she’d just done, but Luka’s went heavy-lidded and dark.

Suddenly he made a sharp turn and pulled her into an alcove they’d been about to pass, shielded from the rest of the party by a draping of fabric that some professional corner of Marinette’s brain recognized as leftovers from her spring collection. Then Luka’s hand was cradling the back of her neck and his lips were pressed firmly, though gently, to hers, and she was pulling him down into her, pressing up on her toes to deepen the kiss while Luka’s other hand found the small of her back and pulled her closer.

“Marinette,” Adrien’s amused voice was low, and when Marinette gasped and looked behind her, she saw Adrien was standing casually (or what passed for casually when one was an internationally famous model) with his back to the entrance of their little alcove. “They’re about to round up all the single ladies, and Alya’s going to come looking for you.”

“Right,” Marinette gasped, reaching up to touch her face. “Do I—”

“You’re fine. Me?” Luka smiled at her with so much happiness that Marinette almost didn’t register his question.

When she did, she reached up and wiped away a smear beneath his lower lip with her thumb. “I think that’s all.”

“Hmm,” Luka sighed. “We’ll have to do better next time.” He laughed when Marinette gasped and smacked him in the chest before flouncing out of the alcove to punch a snickering Adrien in the arm.

“So violent,” Adrien moaned, rubbing his arm. “Do you know how much money that arm is worth?”

“You’re insured,” Marinette huffed, eyes narrowed as she got in his face and flexed her own arm. “And we both know I can take you so don’t be giving me shit, Agreste.”

Adrien rolled his eyes and turned to Luka. “Are you seriously signing up for this, Couffaine?”

“Hell yeah,” Luka sighed, clapping a friendly hand on Adrien’s shoulder and shoving him away from Marinette. “That was hot,” Luka grinned, putting his arm around Marinette’s shoulders as Adrien jokingly pretended to stagger into a drink cart.

Marinette giggled. “I think growing up with your mom warped your personality.”

“Almost definitely,” Luka chuckled, his arm slipping down to squeeze her waist, but before he could say anything else, the DJ was calling all the single women to the floor.

Marinette tried to hang back but Adrien was blocking her exit, so any attempt she might have made to hide was thwarted, and then Alya grabbed the microphone and yelled into it, “Get your ass up here, Marinette, front and center!”

“Favoritism!” someone yelled, and Alya just laughed.

Marinette reluctantly wandered over and let herself be pushed to the front. She tried not to feel self-conscious as she stood with the other single ladies, all of whom were quite a bit taller than she was. Stupid Alya and her tall genes and her tallish friends. She exchanged a look with Nora, who looked bored and was clearly only participating because her mother had ordered her to be for the sake of having all the sisters in the pictures.

It was a stupid, meaningless tradition anyway. She’d much rather still be basking in Luka’s calm yet electrifying presence. Marinette pasted on a smile and prepared herself to make the minimum effort necessary to look good in the pictures

“Ready?” Alya called, turning her back to the group. “One...two…”

Suddenly a pair of hands wrapped around her waist and a familiar voice softly murmured, “Jump” in her ear. She obeyed without thought just as Alya yelled, “THREE!” and flung the bouquet back over her head. For a moment Marinette felt weightless as she was lifted up high—very high—high enough to snatch the bundle of flowers out of the air. She looked over her shoulder and found Luka grinning up at her as he lowered her to the floor.

“That was cheating,” Ella pouted, and Marinette very maturely stuck out her tongue at the younger girl. She giggled and leaned back into Luka’s chest, his chuckle rumbling against her back before they made their way back off the dance floor as guests began to trickle back onto it.

Marinette grinned down at the fragrant bundle in her hands, feeling a little flutter as Luka, still behind her, leaned his face down beside hers.

“So I know we only just became official and everything, but I’m just saying, you know, whenever you’re ready—”

“Luka!” Marinette laughed, turning in his arms to look up at him. He grinned and shrugged.

“Can’t blame a guy for trying,” he teased. “I’m not saying I won’t wait for you, Marinette Dupain-Cheng, but I wouldn’t be sad if I didn’t have to anymore.”

“Mm-hmm,” Marinette grinned wickedly, and then pulled her phone out of the hidden pocket of her dress. “Hold that thought.” She dialed and brought the phone to her ear. “Hi, Sabrina, sorry to bother you but hopefully this will be quick. I know this is short notice, but you know that flight for Vegas I have booked for Monday morning?” Marinette continued, watching Luka’s eyes go wide and his mouth drop open. Oh, that was fun, taking him off guard for once. “I need another ticket. Mm-hmm. Great! Let me know when it’s booked.” She hung up and slipped her phone back in the pocket. “You should know by now that I don’t hesitate anymore,” she teased, looking up into his shocked expression with a grin. “So if you were bluffing you better speak up now, Luka Couffaine.”

“You know I wasn’t,” he breathed, voice low and serious. “So don’t mess with me here, Marinette.”

Marinette shrugged slightly, blushing as she picked at imaginary lint on his sleeve. “You’ve always been more honest with your feelings with most people, so...yeah. I didn’t think you were.” It was an effort to meet his eyes, but she managed it, though it brought the heat to her face again. “Neither am I.”

A single beat.

“Well all right then,” Luka grinned, taking her hand and lacing his fingers through hers. “But we probably should stop by City Hall on our way to the airport just to make sure.”

“You know I like to be thorough,” Marinette agreed, and then squeezed his hand hard. “But if you let a word of this slip before then I’ll kill you. I’m not upstaging Alya’s wedding after all the work I put into saving it.”

“That would be a shame,” Luka agreed. “Also a crappy thing to do to a friend, so.” He tugged her hand lightly. “You know the sooner we get out of here the less we can give away.”

“I like the way you think,” Marinette giggled. “Let’s see if I can keep it together enough to say goodbye.”

Fiction Master Post

I hope you enjoyed it! Here’s the cover I had in mind when Luka played the wedding song.

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gretchensinister · 4 years

Text

I’m Your Boogeyman

A tense summer. A hot night. The need for touch, and the need to stop worrying about what’s normal.

A man in his late twenties is living in an apartment with a boogeyman, but naturally he doesn’t know that. The boogeyman is wildly obsessed with him, though, and one night when Zander lets his leg hang over the side of the bed, they finally meet. And a lot more besides. Classic meet-cute, right? 13,314 words. A whole lemon.

***

Zander had always run hot. That was the problem, and there was really nothing to be done about it. Oh, sure, there were mundane ways of addressing the issue—sleeping in just his shorts, getting a fan, making a dry cold-pack with rice and a couple of old t-shirts. He told himself if he ever got rich he’d set the air conditioning to whatever he honestly needed it to be at night and to hell with everyone else.

But right now he wasn’t rich. He lived in an apartment that was the west side of the second floor of a massive, venerable Victorian, and while there were many lovely details about it that had survived the renovations that made it into four homes instead of one, the large windows in his bedroom did not seem quite so lovely when they gathered every bit of the sun’s heat on long summer evenings. Even insulated blackout curtains didn’t do much to help his bedroom stay cool, which both baffled and frustrated him. The reason he’d had such curtains in the first place was because he’d lived in Texas for a few years before moving much farther north. They’d been effective there! But then again, a lot of buildings in Texas, even old, shitty ones, were built so that the people in them could easily shave a few degrees off the interior temperatures. If you didn’t do that, you just died.

Zander would concede that the place he lived now regularly experienced long periods where if your house didn’t retain as much heat as possible, that would be the situation where you just died.

Still, when he tried to sleep during the summer in his current apartment, he very much resented that the original architect had been so good at their job. If he had just needed to be a little cooler to sleep well, maybe running hot wouldn’t have been so much of a problem. Fans did work wonders when much of his body was bare, and the rice bag in the freezer was extraordinarily soothing when laid across his wrist where his all-too-warm blood rushed by so near to his skin. But his needs were not just about temperature. Zander needed to be cool to be comfortable as he slept, but to feel safe enough to sleep in the first place, he needed to be covered.

He wished he could let go of this feeling, he really did. He’d even tried to slowly ease himself out of the habit: falling asleep with one arm outside the sheet, then both arms, then his chest, but habits and instincts were harder to break than that. Whenever he woke up, usually from being too hot, he would be completely wrapped, even tangled, in the sheet.

The thing was, he suspected he might have been able to succeed in learning how to sleep without covers if it hadn’t been for…something…about his bedroom. Nothing had happened in it to make him feel unsafe. (Nothing much had happened in it at all, to his great disappointment, if he was being honest.) But there was something undefinable about it. After the sun went down, it always seemed a little darker than it should have been, no matter what kind of lightbulbs Zander put in the lamps. Sometimes, as he was getting into bed, the quiet of the room seemed expectant. Which was a bananas thing to think or say to anyone, so he didn’t.

He had asked his landlady about the history of the house. She’d only shrugged. “A few people have died here, I guess. Nothing crazy like a murder. But people mostly died at home back in the day.” When he’d asked her, she’d been out in the backyard, chain-smoking. “If you can get or fake some halfway decent ghost evidence, I’ll knock fifty bucks off your rent. Love to know there’s an afterlife with a habit like mine. But if you find a way to quit that sticks, I’ll knock a hundred bucks off everybody’s rent.”

It had been an unhelpful conversation, to say the least. He couldn’t stop thinking about paying for her cigarettes for weeks.

Anyway, he didn’t really believe that his room was haunted, nor that a standard bedsheet would prove a barrier to any sort of ghost. Whatever was off about the space probably had to do with old walls falling slightly out of true, and wiring that was somehow incompatible with modern technology (it was not his area of expertise). Or maybe he subconsciously hated being alone so much that he couldn’t get totally comfortable in the room he was alone in.

I wouldn’t have been such a big deal, except for the heat that made his compulsion almost unbearable.

And what good could it possibly do? What protection did a bedsheet possibly offer if there really was something malevolent about? (Which there wasn’t. Couldn’t be.)

***

It was a creature of instinct more than intellect. This was mainly due to the fact that it didn’t exist continuously. While it was intelligent, it was difficult to understand the world and form opinions about anything in it when it didn’t have a solid form most of the time.

It vastly preferred existence to non-existence, though, and the hours it was most coherent all took place in the presence of its otherbeing. It was aware that there were many otherbeings, even sensed that it existed because of otherbeings, but distinct memories were a luxury of form. It hadn’t had a form for a long time before this otherbeing moved into its territory, so it didn’t have many clear memories. When coherence was brief, only the broadest strokes of physicality returned—limbs, teeth, eyes. Only the memories, only the thoughts, necessary for survival. But when coherence lasted longer, as a more stable state—as it did when its otherbeing was close by—that was when it gained details: skin texture, claws, memory, continuity.

Its otherbeing was often close by, and the creature had become, to put it simply, obsessed. It knew every different way the otherbeing’s breath sounded, it knew every subtle variation of the otherbeing’s heartbeat, it knew the way the otherbeing smelled just before washing and just after, it knew every scent that was just the otherbeing, separate from anything the otherbeing brought in from the world outside. It knew the sound of the otherbeing’s voice, and could pick it out from any of the cacophony of sounds the otherbeing was often surrounded by, even though, for a very long time, the otherbeing rarely spoke at all. It knew the way the otherbeing moved, all the fantastic shapes the otherbeing was made of, the colors of the otherbeing’s skin and hair in moonlight and starlight and streetlamp light and indoor lamp light (even if it was uncomfortable to observe anything in such brightness).

All this knowing felt mostly normal to the creature, though the way it brought it so much joy did not seem typical—but then, there were no others like itself present to confirm its strangeness.

But maybe that was better! If it was a creature that was not supposed to feel this way about its otherbeing, it would rather not know. It did guess that some kind of line had been crossed, because it had spent enough attention to know that this otherbeing was a he-otherbeing named Zander. Sometimes the creature would whisper the name to itself, when it and Zander were in the places that felt most right: Zander sleeping in his bed, the creature curled on the floor beneath it.

Sometimes, the nights like that were so lovely and peaceful that all the creature’s instincts faded away, and it even fell asleep during the precious hours of darkness.

But the real line that it had crossed had been more recent, only several months ago (how sophisticated it felt for thinking of months rather than moon-cycles! So proud in its knowledge of Zander’s world!). It had still been winter, then—a wonderful season for the creature, when the nights were longer and Zander was more often indoors. But inevitably, the nights grew shorter, and the creature felt terribly, terribly cheated. Not of coherence. In a strict sense, it could survive with very little of that. But of its time with Zander. And in defiance of all its scant knowledge of itself, of the rules of its existence, it held itself together through the slow flare of sunrise, huddling in the greying dark under Zander’s bed, saying his name over and over again. It hurt to do this, and that was a warning, wasn’t it, that the creature was endangering itself? But Zander was still sleeping so peacefully, with such good deep breaths, such a steady heartbeat. How could it be expected to fade in the middle of that?

And in a thoughtless and sublime expression of desire, it had clawed its way up the side of the bed in the searing sunrise. Indirect, weak winter sunlight fell from the large windows upon Zander’s face, and the creature had thought it looked like the ultimate contradiction: the sun, but safe and beautiful.

What an irrevocable instant! Its being flooding with unfamiliar emotions, its physical body burning with pain it could never have imagined—it would have howled if the sun had not forced its dissolution in the very next moment.

That night, when it formed again, the memory of Zander’s sunlit face had returned immediately, sharper than any teeth it could form after such a harrowing morning. And it curled its vague form into a tight ball and held its head and shook.

Before, it had known that it lived and cohered because of Zander—the fine aether of his unease, the miasma of his nightmares: these were ultimately its daily bread. But now it also knew that it lived for Zander.

It had no idea how to face a craving that could draw it into the sun.

For a time, all it could do was continue as before, though its scrutiny became bolder and more reckless—enough to glut it on its actual sustenance, but doing nothing to appease its other pangs.

It took to exploring Zander’s bedroom as soon as it got dark, storing up memories, storing up knowledge.

It would stand in the shower behind the curtain, smelling the shampoo, the soap. What would it be like to use the shower, as if it was a being like Zander?

It would watch Zander watching movies on his computer in the living room, standing just inside the doorway of the bedroom. It would have the courage to approach and watch him from behind the couch soon enough—and that was but another sign of its derangement. The risk of being seen would be so great, and being seen was dangerous. It would…it would produce too much fear to process, and risked driving Zander away.

The problem with that was that it couldn’t know when another otherbeing would move in, and it could be consigning itself to nonexistence for a very long time. But the bigger problem was that it didn’t want to lose Zander, and if it did…it found it didn’t really care if any otherbeings ever moved into its territory or not.

The sun continued to gnaw away at the night, but not many days before it consumed over half the day, something wonderful happened. Zander started staying home much, much more. He started using his computer to talk to other otherbeings much more, giving the creature more of his voice to listen to and remember. His dreams and nightmares grew more powerful than ever, and the creature thought that if it had been normal for its kind, it would have been the most content of them all: strong, well-nourished, with peculiar otherbeing things to observe all the time.

Unfortunately, despite gaining much happiness from this new routine, it started to dwell on what it could not have of Zander.

It could not touch. It could not taste. There were rules to its existence that were truly impossible for it to break. Bearing the touch of the sun was excruciating, but there might be reasons for a creature like it to do so—moving from hiding place to hiding place, perhaps. But other choices didn’t result in an action and some accompanying pain. They resulted in nothing at all, as if the creature had not even thought of moving.

For example: the otherbeing was never to be touched with the creature’s mouth. The creature understood this. It didn’t feed with its mouth, and didn’t have a digestive system like that of a continuously corporeal creature. Bites and mouth-touches might produce sustaining terror, but as in the case of being seen, this terror might be enough to overwhelm a creature, or it might be enough to drive a creature’s otherbeing away. Mouth details, like fangs, were for…well, this particular creature had no idea what they could be for, when it tried to think about it logically. Just another instinct. (Though this one could be overcome, at least partially. For a while now, when the creature re-formed at dark, it had been experimenting with how small it could make its fangs. It had managed to make them small enough to easily speak like Zander did, which was interesting, and exciting, even, until the creature remembered that it would never have the need to speak this way.)

But the strongest instinct of all, and the strongest prohibition, was this: no matter how perfect the opportunity, no matter how dark the night, no matter how deeply the otherbeing was asleep, the creature could not touch any part of the otherbeing unless two conditions were met. The first condition: only parts of the otherbeing that weren’t covered by bed-fabric could be touched. The second condition: only parts of the otherbeing that extended over the edge of the bed could be touched.

The creature had lost count of the times it had stood at the side of Zander’s bed and tried to make itself reach out—to touch his face, to finally learn the texture of his skin and hair! But it could never move. It didn’t matter if its muscles were newly formed or if they were hours old, if it tried to concentrate on the action or move without thinking about it. Nothing. More than anything else, this prohibition seemed inherent to its very being. It was the kind of creature it was because of this.

Did any others of its kind feel that this was cruelty? That their existence as substantial beings depended on bonding with one particular otherbeing, and yet it was all too simple for this otherbeing to remain forever untouchable?

Then again, perhaps it was not such a problem for others. Perhaps Zander was an exceptionally careful otherbeing.

***

It was August, and Zander was pretty sure he was losing it. He understood that this was not a particularly unique feeling, but it still wasn’t good. His vague weird feeling about his bedroom had progressed into a full feeling of being watched, which occasionally hit him in the bathroom and the living room, as well. He would swear that sometimes his things had been moved, just slightly, as if someone had been picking them up and putting them down for some reason. None of the lights seemed to be as bright as they should be.

He toyed with several explanations, and tested each of them. Could there be another person secretly living in his apartment? A thorough search produced nothing. Could he be experiencing carbon monoxide poisoning? The two detectors he ordered online showed the same very low reading. Could he be developing a diagnosable mental illness, not just “losing it”? He was a few years past the average onset age of schizophrenia for men, but times were weird. This one wasn’t as easy to rule out, but he didn’t have any family with the illness, and as far as he could tell, he didn’t have any symptoms during the daytime. At least, no symptoms that were notable, considering the isolation. He decided he couldn’t dwell on this and if he saw or heard anything really off, he’d follow some advice he’d found and try recording it on his phone.

His phone had acquired a few new apps during the whole investigation. An infrasound detector told him that he was not being affected by infrasound. A sleep monitoring app remained unused.

It remained unused because even if he knew he wasn’t being haunted, because ghosts didn’t exist, it still seemed…foolish, somehow, to pay extra attention to whatever might be happening while he was asleep. He was waking up every morning, after all. But then again, how was he supposed to find answers if there were means of investigation that he was deliberately ignoring?

Return to the first premise: he was simply losing it.

He entertained the possibility that he was losing it and there was something strange in the neighborhood, so to speak, but this only led to more questions about how he was supposed to respond. He certainly wasn’t going to pay for a psychic cleansing over Zoom. Not with what only amounted to weird feelings, anyway.

But probably there was nothing weird going on, not in a supernatural sense, anyway! He was just losing it because the only people he could justify seeing face to face were his coworkers, and screw them, if he couldn’t be around his friends he certainly wasn’t going to voluntarily be around not-friends for eight hours a day; he was losing it because even if he could be around his friends what he wanted was to be held and sure everyone was queer and cool but he’d never been able to ask before all this so why did he think he was going to be able to ask afterwards, when he would doubtless be even weirder than five months (and counting) had made him?

And he was losing it because in order to keep whatever it was, he needed to sleep, and that was so often the most difficult thing about his day, because of the heat!

So he lay awake in his astounding solar oven of a bedroom, staring up at the ceiling with the sheet pulled up to his neck, while his fan failed to act on his sweat and his little animal thoughts chased their tails in his mind.

I need to be cool. I need to be covered. I need to be held. I need to be cool. I need to be covered. I need to be held.

Somehow, he always drifted off eventually.

And one night, he drifted off with the sheets less firmly anchored under the mattress than they usually were. As he floated off into sleep, the higher order of his thoughts that insisted on the necessity of covering quieted well before his body’s insistence on reaching a comfortable temperature. He shifted and turned, gradually freeing himself from the sheet, slipping ever deeper into dreams. With the sheet discarded, his body discovered one more helpful adjustment: with his leg hanging off the mattress, the airflow around it helped his body release heat very well.

***

A pounding heart, a dry mouth, even overwhelmed tears—these are all things that belong to continuous bodies. But the creature could tremble, and it did, even as it reached out, hardly able to believe its good luck, hardly able to believe this incredible blessing that had finally been bestowed on it.

***

It was from an instantly forgotten dream and to the unfamiliar, unexpected, and uncanny sensation of a light, cool grip on his ankle that Zander awoke. Fuck, I knew it! was his first thought, followed by a nervous, panicky negation. This couldn’t be happening. This was the remnant of a dream. In a few seconds he’d realize he’d misinterpreted the sensation.

Moments passed, huge moments where the grip on his ankle didn’t change at all, and Zander soon felt like he’d never been so awake in his life. And then the…hand? It did feel like a hand, with fingers on one side and a thumb on the other—had he missed someone living in his house somehow? The hand began to slowly move up his calf. Carefully. Gently. It was…it was honestly a caress, and Zander had no idea if that made it better or worse, more or less likely to be a hallucination. But the fingers and thumb were long enough that even at the midpoint of his calf, they almost wrapped around his leg entirely, and that meant that this hand was definitely not human.

This was bad, probably, but it was also something that he was sure no one expected him to just put up with and carry on through, and that felt like a relief. His mind cleared. First thing: determine if this was a hallucination. He lifted his phone from the windowsill, thumbed open the camera, and aimed it at his knee, where one…claw? Oh God. One claw was carefully poking at the scar from a childhood bike accident. The screen showed nothing he could see at this angle, as the only light in the room came from the phone itself or the line between the curtains where the streetlights shone faintly in. He tapped the screen.

The auto-flash worked just as it was supposed to. It also completely disoriented Zander, but not before he caught a glimpse of a gaunt humanoid figure with a mouth far too large and full of fangs crouched by the side of his bed. One or both of them gave a horrible yelp, and Zander was mentally confronting the possibility of being eviscerated when he realized the creature’s hand was still wrapped around his knee, unmoving.

***

Awful, awful, the sudden light! Zander must have seen it, but it was an accident, it was not breaking its rules. There was no light-pain anymore, in fact the light-pain had probably been a good thing, as healing used up much of the energy it was getting from Zander’s fear right now. And so it did not let go. This might be its only chance to touch Zander, and it was not yet satisfied, only ever more curious from its touches so far. His leg was so much softer than the bottom of his foot, and covered with hair, too. It was fascinating, and it suspected that this was far from the only fascinating thing about Zander’s body.

But it was so unlikely now that Zander would indulge it by leaving the bed. Or! If he did leave the bed he would leave forever, and there’d be no point in having a form ever again because there wouldn’t be Zander to watch and listen to and touch.

Unconsciously, the creature gripped Zander’s knee more tightly. Was there anything it could do? Was tonight to be the culmination of all its hopes, and the threshold of an existence of nothing but void? Had it been worth it to face the sun, when it would all end like this?

But! Oh! This was the power of memory. It had faced the sun. The things it felt were different. It was different. It could do things that were unaccounted for in the rules of its existence.

***

The image on the phone screen showed a dark gray entity with a huge mouth full of fangs, a collection of slits for a nose, two very large round eyes, and pointed, animal-like ears on the sides of its head that were probably bigger than Zander’s hand. It had a long skinny neck and long skinny arms connected to a torso that was, probably, also long and skinny. It didn’t have any hair. It looked very solid, blocking the view of his desk in the picture like any real thing in that location would. It also kind of looked…surprised?

You and me both! Zander thought. He found he had no idea what to do now that he had evidence that there was really something in his room. Something that was still holding onto his leg. Something that was, in fact, an actual fucking monster!

No, no, no, part of his brain chanted, a desperate negation, a call for the world to be as it had been. It’s not a monster, there’s no such thing as monsters, people see things and misidentify them all the time, it’s usually something like a starving bear with mange, that’s what this must be, a starving bear with mange, something that at least EXISTS—

Zander stifled a wild laugh. This wasn’t a bear of any kind, for one thing, and for another, how would it possibly be better if a starving bear with mange was in his apartment and holding onto his leg? That would be an almost certainly fatal situation. A monster, though? Well, who the hell knew?

“Zander. Please don’t leave.”

He dropped his phone. That had to be—that had to be the monster talking to him. And it knew his name, knew how to speak English, and knew how to be polite. And it was asking him to stay? Okay. Okay. Sure. This gave him something to work with.

“Why do you want me to stay?” he croaked out. “Are you going to kill me?”

“NO! No, no, no! I only want to touch you! I’ve waited for so long, and this was my first chance!”

“Wh—what do you mean, so long? How long?”

A short pause. “Since you became my otherbeing. My…human. Since you first dreamed in my territory.”

Zander’s mind raced. Did it mean since he’d moved into the apartment? That was almost four years ago! “Why…was this your first chance?”

“Because of the rules,” the monster said. “You have to be asleep. You have to be uncovered. You have to be off the mattress.”

Just as he’d always suspected. The part of his mind that had suggested the mangy starving bear tried to tell him this situation was weird and incomprehensible and was sending him slipping and spinning into totally unknown territory. But the thing was, if he accepted the scenario totally and completely as something that was happening, it was easy to understand. “Do you live under my bed?”

“Yes, or at least I did. As I got more and more curious about you I moved around more. I learned many things. And now that you’re around more, I have more energy to keep my form. I can remember more things.”

“You don’t always have a body? Where does your energy come from?”

“My energy comes from your nightmares and your waking fears, though there is a danger of waking fear being overwhelming. I am not sure how I withstood your reaction to seeing me. There is a correct level of energy for taking a form at night. It takes much more energy to maintain a form against light. It is…by instinct it is impossible to keep a form in sunlight. It is very painful. But I did it once.”

Zander stared up at the ceiling, which he could now make out the edges of thanks to the faint light from the streetlamps. He might be feeling like he was starting to understand this situation, but looking at the monster again—yeah, that would really loosen his grip on things. “So you…feed off my fear, but only a little at a time. You can only exist in the dark. You live under my bed. You can’t touch any part of my body that’s on the mattress and covered. You honestly sound like a childhood boogeyman, except that I’m not a child.”

“It is hard to remember, but I believe I came to exist because of a child. When a child dreamed in this room. I think there may have been other children, also. Others of my kind. But formlessness erases memory, and I was formless for what I think was many years. But then you came. And now I’m no child’s boogeyman. I’m your boogeyman. Only, only yours.”

Zander took a slow breath. Two things were occurring to him.

One: this boogeyman had kind of a nice voice, low and a little scratchy. It sounded like it had a bit of an accent, too, but that was no doubt because of the fangs and maybe—maybe never speaking to anyone else before? That seemed unbearably sad, but maybe it was normal for its…species? Kind?

Two: Maybe he didn’t have as good a grip on this situation as he had hoped.

“Do you have a name?” Zander asked. “And, um, I’m a he, other humans are she, or they, or…well, there are a lot of options. What about you?”

“No name,” the boogeyman answered immediately. “And I…I am an it.” It sounded puzzled with this last statement. And why not? thought Zander. Surely if I admitted to secretly living in someone’s house for four years, I wouldn’t expect them to ask my pronouns! There’d be other, more relevant, questions!

“Do you want a name?” This wasn’t one of those more relevant questions. But it was the only one that came to mind at the moment.

“Zander…you would give me a name?” The pure wonder in its voice. Had anyone ever said Zander’s name like that?

“Only if you want a name.” What was he doing? Why was he doing it?

“Yes!” It sounded a little different, now. As if it was shaking? “Zander, name me!”

“I—” He finally let out a little laughter. “I want to give you a good name, but I can’t hardly think now. Could I just—could I just nickname you ‘Boo’ right now, and come up with something better, later?”

“Boo,” the boogeyman said. “I am Boo!” It really sounded delighted, and Zander wondered if anything would have bothered it. Maybe not, as long as he had good intentions.

When the boogeyman—Boo—spoke again, it was quieter, more subdued. “I do not think that having a name is a usual part of being what I am. What you call a boogeyman.”

“Is that…a problem?”

“I don’t know. I like it, though. Anyway, it is not the first strange thing I have done since becoming your boogeyman.”

The mangy bear part of Zander’s mind posited that everything the monster had ever done was strange, because it was too strange to exist in the first place. Zander told that part of himself to pipe down. It was past time to accept that Boo was real, and as a being of a certain type, some things would be strange for it and others would be normal. Boo had even mentioned one, earlier. “Yeah. You said you braved the sun, once. Why did you do that?”

The hand around Zander’s knee twitched nervously. Oh. Yeah. Best not to forget about that. The claws, very close. (And also, Boo’s one stated desire so far: to touch him.)

“I was…curious,” Boo said. “No. That is not the right word. I wanted to know more of you than I already did. It shouldn’t matter to a boogeyman, but I liked watching you, whether you were uneasy or not. I liked knowing how you looked in different amounts of moonlight, in different colors of lamplight. You’re my favorite thing to look at. But I can only do that at night, when we both have forms. Last winter when I noticed that the nights were getting shorter I felt like you were being taken away. I wanted every sight of you I could hang onto. I hadn’t ever seen you in sunlight. An ordinary boogeyman wouldn’t have thought of it. But I did. I wanted to see your face in another kind of light, and sunlight was the only kind of light left. And I managed to endure it, and now I know what your face looks like in the sunlight.”

“Was it…was it worth it?”

“Yes.”

Zander’s first impulse was to push the story away, to tell Boo that maybe it needed to see more faces if it thought Zander’s was worth pain, but he held his tongue. Because there was something about what Boo had done that seemed understandable, familiar. To see someone and then begin to desire and to act in previously unthinkable ways—to irrevocably abandon normal—to risk pain for the sake of joy that it seemed so few others would understand—oh, he’d done it. If Boo’s experience was at all related…he didn’t want to make it seem small.

“You’re being strange for a boogeyman right now, too, aren’t you?”

“I was never supposed to talk to you,” Boo said. “I didn’t understand human language so much before I started paying attention to you. I couldn’t speak it. In the form I have by instinct, my fangs are too big to make all the sounds correctly.”

Are you FUCKING kidding me those are your SMALL fangs? Zander’s fear returned in a rush, and he heard Boo shift by the side of his bed. He forced himself to take deep breaths and did his best to push his fear to curiosity. What did it feel like to Boo, to be feared all of a sudden like that? Would it be like sipping water through a straw and then having someone pry your jaw open to dump a gallon down your throat? But maybe there was no metaphor, because the physical was always a limit for a human, and that didn’t seem to be the case for Boo. Unless Zander was totally wrong and it did need large fangs to chew up nightmares.

“You okay, Boo? Guess I wasn’t as calm as I thought.”

“I am okay. I will have to expend this energy soon, but that will not be dangerous to you. If I don’t find a way to use it myself, the excess will manifest as darkness. The lights in your apartment might not work for a few hours. It is enough energy to seek a new territory if a human leaves the original territory after seeing one of my kind. I did not understand this before, because leaving my territory had never occurred to me before you saw me. Another instinct. But you should also know that my fangs are only for the frightening appearance. No bites or mouth-touches are allowed. I have no digestive system. Any bites would be pointless.”

“Mouth-touches,” Zander repeated. It was an odd phrase for someone who otherwise used English so well. It sounded like a little word-veil, drawn between them so that they could both ignore what mouth-touches not part of eating would be. Or maybe that was a completely bonkers interpretation. Boo wasn’t human. Who could say how it would use language?

The obvious thing to do was ask for clarification. Zander closed his eyes for a few moments. He was going to have to come at this from an angle, and he wasn’t sure he was up to it. If he was wrong, he would create an awkward roommate situation that couldn’t be equaled, and if he was right…well, what did he plan to do?

“Anyway…you’re not supposed to be talking to me, but you can. I get that, it’s a new thing. Your instincts don’t have anything to tell you about it. But what about the way you’re still touching me? Is that also strange or…what am I not getting?” He felt a faint twitch from Boo’s hand once he fell silent.

“I can touch you because touch could make you more afraid,” Boo said. It sounded like it was trying to pick its words very carefully. “But…yes. This is also strange. And I am surprised that no instincts have made me let go. I think…it is better for a boogeyman if its human is not sure if it is really there. So touch should be fleeting. It is not…a need. But maybe that doesn’t matter. You must be very certain I’m here.”

“Yes,” Zander said. Oh, he had to be careful, now, very careful. Just because Boo would undergo the worst of boogeyman agonies just to see his face in the sunlight didn’t make his half-formed idea good. But then again, even if what he was thinking was a bad idea, at least it was fully his own bad idea. And he’d been buffeted around enough by other people’s bad ideas lately. So…let it all come together. Survival and need and want and…touch. “But maybe…maybe your instincts don’t have anything to say to you now because you don’t have any needs right now—is that true? I mean…from what you’ve told me. You have my fear, and that gives you energy to hold your form and do whatever else, and you’ve got the dark.”

“That is all a boogeyman needs.” Boo sounded troubled. “Zander…it does not feel like these are my only needs. Not when you are here.”

Zander swallowed. “Well, it sounds like you have some really strong wants, then. I think that’s…that’s part of being alive. Wanting more than the bare minimum of what’s needed to survive. I mean, that’s one of the first things you said to me.”

“That I wanted to touch you. Yes.”

Boo drew out this last word into a hiss, and shiver ran down Zander’s spine. Sure it was fear, Boo was a creature formed to scare—but that wasn’t all of it.

“I still want to touch you,” Boo said. “Much more than I already have. Now that I know that I can while you are awake, while I am talking to you—I do not know if any other boogeyman has wanted a want like this. And I don’t care, because you are my otherbeing, my human, my Zander. Everything I have of you only makes me want more, and it doesn’t make any sense, and I don’t care, because even getting a little bit of what I want is wonderful. If you were all the way out of your bed, all the way uncovered, I—I don’t know if that would satisfy me. I don’t think it matters, I want that anyway.”

Zander’s heart beat faster—how could it not, when being talked to like this, even when he’d seen the terrifying form the pleasant voice belonged to? It was clear that Boo had no concerns about approaching this subject delicately. He took a deep breath, trying to clear the feeling of lightheadedness that had come upon him. It didn’t really help. This was weird! Very weird! But it really boiled down to this: Boo wanted to touch him. He wanted to be touched.

And he was starting to get curious, now, to see if Boo would like to be touched, and how.

“Boo, I think I want to have you touch me, too.”

“Zander! I…” In contrast to the declaration of its desire, Boo now sounded shy, even a little confused. “I want to make sure I touch you in a way that won’t make you leave. I don’t want to have to be anyone else’s boogeyman.”

“Yeah, we can talk about that, we can figure it out,” Zander said. “We’ve got all night, don’t we?”

“Yes!” Boo said, and again the word turned into a hiss.

This time Zander was able to find it more fascinating than frightening, though now he guessed that being frightening was the whole point. Whenever Boo didn’t think about what it was doing, it would probably end up doing something scary. It was probably the best way for a boogeyman to survive as a boogeyman, even if it was doing something unusual like talking—err on the side of scary. Zander smiled a little, just at the idea that something as strange and incredible as Boo should exist in the first place.

“What are you feeling?” Boo asked. “It’s because of me, but it’s not fear.”

“W—wonder, I think,” Zander stammered. So Boo could feel any emotion it caused, not just fear? That was bound to get interesting.

“Wonder. It feels good.”

Very interesting.

“Boo, before you get to touch—two things: Would it be safe for you if I opened the curtains a little more? To let in the streetlights? It’ll help me be less afraid if I can see what you’re doing, at least a little.”

“The streetlights won’t trouble me—but I don’t understand. It has become less frightening to see me?”

“Well, surprise adds a lot to fear,” Zander said. “If I can see your movements, I won’t be surprised when I feel your hands.”

“I see,” Boo said.

“And the other thing is—you did give me a good scare earlier. I have to go to the bathroom before we do anything else.”

“All right.” Boo made no move to let go of his leg.

“That means you have to let go of me for a couple minutes.”

“Oh. But I could come with. I’ve been in your bathroom lots of times. I like being behind the shower curtain.”

The thought so sometimes there actually WAS something there clashed with has Boo watched me pee?! and Zander pushed them both aside. It was time to focus on the now, and he didn’t want to fall down a rabbit hole of wondering what Boo might have seen him doing. Though, to be very, very honest, there was a sort of dirty little frisson to think that Boo could have seen him taking himself in hand—he really had lost it, hadn’t he?

“But you’re not coming with me now,” Zander said. “Hey. You know that bathroom doesn’t have any windows. I’m not going to run away.”

There was a pause, and then Boo gave a sigh. The hand at his knee slid back down his calf, over his ankle and foot, and then was gone.

“Please don’t grab my ankles when I step on the floor,” Zander said. “I’m guessing that might be—it might be another instinct.”

When Zander had taken a few steps away from his bed, Boo spoke again. “You were right. It was.”

Zander grinned, even as his ankles tingled with the apprehension of touch, and continued into the bathroom.

When he returned to his bedroom, he found that Boo had already opened the curtains. Zander had left the light off in the bathroom (after all, he knew the boogeyman wasn’t in there at the moment) to keep his night vision. Now, the orange glow from the streetlights outside was more than enough to reveal everything in his room. Including Boo.

At first, he couldn’t take another step forward. The sight of Boo pressed buttons older than wonder or sympathy or even curiosity, and he had to close his eyes before he could even pull himself together enough to speak. “Boo, can you say something? I’d gotten used to your voice, but, uh, seeing you was still a surprise.”

“I did use my time alone to use some of my extra energy to change my form,” Boo said. “I wanted…I wanted to try out hair.”

Zander sensed that this was not the whole truth, but he wasn’t going to get into that now. He took a deep breath. That was Boo’s voice. He’d talked to Boo. He’d—well, he’d really liked hearing that confession of desire from Boo. And yes. Boo was a monster. And when he opened his eyes, he was going to see Boo, and step closer to Boo, and check out Boo’s brand new form with hair. The seconds of preparation helped, and when Zander opened his eyes, fear gave one last jolt before swiftly receding in favor of wonder.

He walked forward slowly—his legs still felt a little weak from the first shock—never taking his eyes off Boo. To look at Boo properly barely seemed possible—to look away and back again? Absolutely not.

When he got within Boo’s reach, he paused and tried to take in as much detail as the streetlights allowed. Boo was the same color as before, that dark gray. Its skin was more matte than a human’s. The body that skin covered was very, very tall. At least seven feet, maybe a little more, it was hard to tell how close Boo’s head was to the ceiling in the low light. And still—Zander’s stomach lurched like it did when he looked out from the top of a roller coaster—from his earlier brief look, Boo had probably been even taller before. Whatever shapeshifting it had done had included changing its proportions so that it looked a little bit more compact, a little bit more human, now. But really, only a little.

Zander wondered if there was some mass Boo had to take on when it solidified, because in addition to being shorter than the first picture indicated, Boo now had a little more muscle and flesh on its body and limbs. Though it still made you wonder if it was hungry enough to make you its next meal. Too, the slight musculature it now had was…off…in some indefinable way. Zander had never made a study of human anatomy, but what Boo’s said to him was that it wasn’t an elongated human, but something else entirely. And there were other, far more obvious differences. Boo had only four toes on each foot, each of which ended in a sharp black claw. It had no navel, and the area between its legs appeared as smooth as a mannequin. And its hands, the hands Zander had invited it to touch him with…well, they had five fingers each, but he was almost sure each finger had an extra joint compared to a human finger. They definitely all had significant claws. But, perhaps…he wouldn’t know until Boo touched him again, but he thought maybe Boo had done its best to tone down the claws.

After all, Boo had done quite a bit on its fangs.

Boo’s face was what he had seen on his phone, and Boo’s face was where the changes it had made were clearest to Zander. Though its jaw remained somewhat prognathous, its fangs were now small enough that its lips closed over them easily. Its ears, too, were much smaller, even if they were still much larger than a human’s and still pointed. But they didn’t remind Zander so much of a bat anymore. But even with these changes, some things about Boo had stayed the same. Its nose remained as it had been, just a slight protrusion with two large nostril slits framed by two smaller, additional slits. Boo’s eyes were still enormous, and very round. They had no whites, but in the lamplight Zander thought he could see the distinction between iris and pupil. Incredible, that this faint light would cause such a contraction.

And, yes, finally, Boo had hair on the top of its head, now. It was black, several inches long, and quite messy. Of course, it has been formed rather hastily. It made Boo look—well, it was hard to say. Less alien. More uncanny.

Zander knew that most anything with hair or fur liked having it groomed. Would that be a built-in side effect of his boogeyman’s changed form? Who knew? No one, absolutely no one, and that was the most wondrous thing about this moment. They were both so far outside, and so hidden from any norms that either of them knew, that they were both looking at each other completely as themselves.

And this was where, and how, they were going to touch each other. It might be glorious. It might be terrible. It might simply be monstrous. But most of all, it would be theirs, and only theirs.

“Zander,” Boo said, and Zander saw its long, clawed hands flex, “now can I touch you?”

Zander realized that Boo must have been studying him with the same intensity as he had been studying Boo—perhaps even more, considering that Boo could see much better in the very dim light. And still this was its reaction: this desperation, this desire.

Seeing Boo’s whole form had not made Zander any less vulnerable to being desired. And, hey, some part of his mind that couldn’t let a numinous moment stand pointed out, you’ve always liked lanky guys.

He smiled, and Boo’s already-wide eyes went wider. “Boo, I was thinking. Your rules say you only get to touch me when I’m uncovered and hanging off the edge of the bed, but now that I know you’re here—now that we’ve got an understanding—well, is that still the case? What I’m saying, is…can I invite you onto my bed?”

Boo visibly shivered, but not, Zander thought, with revulsion. Anticipation, maybe.

“I have no idea,” Boo said. “I want to find out.”

Zander took a deep breath and another step forward. “Take my hand,” he said. “It might make it easier.”

Boo reached out, and Zander, focusing only on the wonder of it, found it easy to reach back and put his compact, soft hand into Boo’s spindly fingers. Its skin was smooth and dry—no natural oils like human skin, Zander guessed, since it didn’t really have that biology to maintain from day to day—and barely seemed warmer than the ambient temperature of the room. He must feel much different to Boo; would that be good, bad—?

“Your warmth,” Boo breathed. “It’s the first wonderful thing about touching you.”

Ah. Good, then.

“Well. Warmth I can guarantee,” Zander said. “It’s why I had my leg sticking out in the first place.” Keeping hold of Boo’s hand, he eased himself back into bed. “So far so good, huh? Nothing made you let go, even though I’m completely on the mattress.” He smiled up at Boo, and Boo blinked down at him, its lips twitching in a tentative answering smile. Sure, there was something unsettling about it, but also Zander guessed that most expressions might not come naturally to Boo. It probably learned them…from him. Astonishing. “Come on up, however you like, though you might end up getting another shot of fear if you—” He broke off, as Boo immediately took his invitation and climbed onto the bed.

And on top of Zander, which was what he’d expected, because it was the most frightening way to get close. Boo moved in a rather spidery way (of course) and when it stopped moving it had its hands planted on either side of Zander’s head, its knees to either side of Zander’s legs. The light from the streetlights no longer helped so much to see Boo’s face, though he could see a glint of eyes and oh, again, the fangs. Boo was grinning as it was poised above him.

“Comfortable?” Boo asked, and Zander immediately wanted to giggle. He held back, though, because despite all the absurdities in this situation, he didn’t want to risk Boo feeling laughed at in this moment—the first time it’d gotten into bed with someone it really, really wanted to touch.

“Yeah,” Zander answered softly. “You all right with that jolt I gave you just now? I couldn’t help it.”

“Yes.” Boo sounded thoughtful. “I am less worried about having too much energy now that I’m not trying to escape your notice. And you are still wondering at me more than anything else.”

“I suppose I am,” Zander said. He stretched out his arms and legs under Boo. Had he ever even been this vulnerable to another human being? Sure, he still had his boxer shorts on, but that was pretty insignificant compared to the fact that Boo knew him better than literally any other human being. Also, if Boo had been lying about itself and what it wanted—if those fangs and claws were about to be put to their more typical uses—he’d basically served himself up on a silver platter. Though that image did cause some sparks in some crossed wires in his brain.

He took a deep breath and slowly let it out. “All right, Boo,” he said. “You can touch me.”

Boo immediately lifted one spindly hand and cupped Zander’s cheek. It was a bizarrely human gesture, but it lasted only for a moment. Boo didn’t have any script to follow; all it knew was that it had been given permission to satisfy its desires, its curiosity. And still, Zander felt as though some kind of tightly wound spring inside him was easing with such a simple touch.

Boo’s fingertips poked gently at the softness of Zander’s cheek, and its claws were noticeable, but not in an uncomfortable way. Boo seemed to have the intent to treat Zander as carefully as it could, as it found his cheekbones and jaw and traced them, as it circled his ear and brushed across his forehead, as it investigated the shape of his nose and eyebrows.

And then Boo held the side of his face again, and slowly dragged its thumb over Zander’s lips.

“Boo?” Zander whispered, when it left its thumb at the corner of his mouth and hung over him, perfectly still, just looking.

“I think I’m changing, somehow,” Boo said. “Like when I become substantial. But I already am. I don’t understand.”

“Does that feel good or bad for you?”

“I think…good. But I’ve never felt anything like it before.” Boo shivered, a familiar motion made unfamiliar by the undercranked-film quality of it. Still a boogeyman. “Zander. I am going to touch you more, now.”

With only that much of a warning, Boo bent down and pressed its face against the side of Zander’s neck. Zander’s heart raced, some part of him still convinced that Boo wanted to rip his throat out, the rest of him clamoring that Boo was kissing him, actually kissing him on the neck. He could feel Boo’s lips moving gently against his skin, and though he could also tell that there were fangs behind them, he didn’t care at all. He hadn’t been kissed at all, anywhere, in so long, and if this wasn’t really kissing, but rather what Boo had distantly called ‘mouth touches’ earlier, well, it was impossible for his skin to tell the difference.

Boo didn’t stay at the side of his neck. It made a line of kisses up to his jaw, over the lower part of his cheek—and there was really no denying now that they were kisses, kisses from a being very new to the practice of kissing, but kisses nonetheless—

And then Boo kissed him on the lips.

Does Boo understand? Does it? Does it? His mind whirled while Boo lingered at his mouth. Maybe? Probably! He answered himself, as reality began to supersede any of his earlier half-formed fantasies. You were the one torrenting classic Disney to combat depression and the creepy feeling in your apartment!

It was really so absurd. And yet he still felt as though his heart was being cracked open like an egg, and instead of yolk and white flowing out there was all his loneliness and his curiosity and his fear and his wonder and his desire. There was so much of all of it, more than he’d ever realized he was holding onto, and it made it impossible to think lightly of kissing Boo.

Oh well.

He kissed Boo back. He kissed Boo back and raised his hands to touch Boo in return. It had said it liked his warmth; let it have the warmth of his hands, then, roving along the smooth, dry skin of its spindly form, back and waist and shoulders.

Boo gasped at Zander’s touch, and let itself sink down onto him, its narrow body pressing full against Zander’s soft and substantial chest and belly. Boo twined its fingers into Zander’s hair, and even that eagerness pierced his heart—his grown-out hair wasn’t neglect and isolation to Boo, it was something new and wonderful to touch. Zander closed his eyes, thrilling at the light touch of claws on his scalp and no longer trying to distance himself from any desire he felt. Boo was doing exactly what it had told him it wanted to do, so why not enjoy it? He hoped, oh he hoped that Boo was taking pleasure in these moments, because he was; he felt like he wasn’t just unwinding thanks to the ability to touch someone, but like he might unravel entirely, lose all the stress and constraint of having a form.

Maybe that wasn’t the best simile, considering Boo’s existence, but was he supposed to come up with a better one while making out with the thing under the bed?

He held Boo ever closer, and with very little conscious thought, slipped his tongue past Boo’s lips. He brushed up against Boo’s fangs, and his body tried to set off every alarm system that it had. However, most of his systems were already highly occupied, and all the signals of his nerves and hormones could only merge. He felt like he was blushing all over, like he’d been given a jolt of electricity just this side of lethal, and, oh yeah, his cock was now straining at the fabric of his boxers. He hadn’t gotten so hard, so fast, in a long while. His state would be immediately obvious to anyone familiar with hard-ons; the question was, did that include Boo?

Boo made a soft sound in its throat and pulled away from Zander just far enough to speak. “I—you—I can feel your desire,” it said.

That sounded way too much like a euphemism in a novel where the author wasn’t allowed to say “cock” and Zander was momentarily baffled as to why Boo was talking like that. But then—Boo lived off his fear. Boo could tell when Zander was wondering at him. So when Boo said it could feel his desire, that’s literally what it meant.

And was that a good thing? Well—

Boo sat up, laughing a little. It ran its long, strange hands boldly over Zander’s chest and belly, and Zander could see the glint of its terrible, sexy fangs in the streetlight as it grinned. “Zander. Zander. Zaaaander. You like it when I touch you and—I don’t know if any boogeyman has ever felt this. And I don’t care. It’s so good. I can’t tell if feeling your body under my hands or feeling your desire is better. What—what am I doing that makes you want me? I—I want to do more of that.”

“Boo—I—it’s easy to want you when you’re touching me like I’m the most amazing thing you’ve ever seen in your life!”

“You are,” Boo said, continuing to caress him with earnest hands. “And your desire…” It took a shaky breath. “I had noticed it, before. It was always faint because it wasn’t directed at me. But I was still curious because it was something of you.” Boo’s touches became lighter, but not teasing. It traced a claw around Zander’s nipple, almost shyly.

Zander shivered, but it felt like he was almost feverish, how hot he was. How much of a strange dream all this seemed. “Boo,” he whispered.

“I never realized what it would be like to have desire directed toward me,” it said. “I only hoped to touch you and try to satisfy my own desire, but now I—I think I might be insatiable.”

Zander reached out and covered one of Boo’s hands with his own. “Hey, Boo. We can figure it out. I mean—you’re doing things with your body, with me, that you’ve never done before. I mean, there’s probably some way you can be satisfied. You just don’t know it yet.”

“Yes.” Again, that alien sibilance, and Zander found that a monster accepting his promise to help satisfy it somehow only made him impossibly harder. And he should probably say something about that, but what? Boo had clearly been in the room, at least, while Zander had taken himself in hand, but how much did it understand about what he had been doing?

“Boo,” he began, “this desire that you’re feeling from me to you, it’s…there’s a physical component—”

“Yes,” Boo interrupted. “I’ve noticed it all. The speeding of your heart, but not in fear. The slight changes in your scent. The hardening of your nipples and your cock.”

To hear Boo say “cock” was nearly as disorienting as when Zander thought he was using a euphemism. But then, what other word would it know for penis? It would have had to learn from the porn Zander watched to associate any word with the actual body part.

“Okay,” Zander said, his feelings about Boo watching him masturbate much more ambiguous now that it had apparently been the case in reality, “then you probably know some, uh, other things.”

“Yes, and I…” Boo hesitated.

“Boo, if you don’t want to do anything with my cock, I, well, it’s not what my body’s hoping for, but I can deal.”

“No, that’s not…” Boo flipped its hand over and squeezed Zander’s, really seeming nervous now. “I’ve touched you, and you’ve touched me back, and it felt—it felt so good. I didn’t know the kinds of things my nerves could tell me. I don’t know to say all this. But I’m not shying away because I don’t want to give you the most pleasure that I can. Now that I know I can.”

“Well, all right, do you just need a little guidance or—”

“Maybe, but first I need to show you—” Boo broke off, and lifted itself up, moving forwards until its knees were on either side of Zander’s waist. Its fingers fluttered and it dropped Zander’s hand. “I changed myself when you were in the bathroom. I said I wanted to try hair, but that’s not all I did.”

Zander’s eyes widened. He didn’t want to look too surprised, considering how shy Boo seemed now, but if this was going in the direction he guessed it was, it seemed almost impossible not to be surprised.

Boo picked up Zander’s hand again. It guided him to the place between Boo’s legs. “I don’t know if I did it right. But I made this change before I knew how much you wanted me, because I knew how much I wanted you.”

Zander looked up at Boo, trying to get a glimpse of its face as he left his fingers gently resting against where they had been placed. But then again, what could Boo’s expression tell him that Boo’s actions didn’t? Boo had made an orifice, apparently on the wild wish of an off-chance (or so it had thought) that “touching Zander” would lead into “getting fucked by Zander.” He allowed himself a moment to ask himself if this was too weird but shoved the question away before answering himself. It was the wrong question. Tonight was about Boo and him, and if it was weird it didn’t matter. There were better questions. “Boo, do you want me to be inside you?”

“Yes,” Boo said, quietly, and with no hesitation.

Zander traced his fingers around the edge of the opening Boo had led him to, and he heard Boo pant above him. I wonder if I can make your nerves tell you some really incomprehensible things, he thought, as he continued to carefully stroke Boo. “Any particular word you’d like for this new part of you?” The question wasn’t just a courtesy. Zander wasn’t hugely experienced, but he had enough practical knowledge to know that what he was feeling wasn’t really like any human orifice.

“Oh,” Boo said, again sounding embarrassed even as it breathed heavily and tilted its hips towards Zander’s hand, “I—I don’t really know—it’s just a hole. Is that all right?”

“It’s fine, it’s fine,” Zander said. With his free hand he stroked Boo’s side and bony hip, doing his best to clear his mind of any negative reaction. Boo had claimed “it”; Boo had a hole. That was all there was to it. Nit-picking the language used by a wondrous, unknown creature was no way to proceed.

Especially not when that wondrous, unknown creature was relaxing and opening thanks to his fingers. “I’m going to put a finger inside you,” Zander said, and Boo made a soft sound in its throat, followed by another as Zander did exactly as he said. Inside, Boo was slick, wet—biological details that it had to have chosen. Zander didn’t know exactly how Boo formed their body, but this didn’t seem like something it had come up with on the spur of the moment. “I think you did really well, remaking yourself this way,” Zander said. It felt like another of his fingers could slip in easily, so he tried, and was right. Boo pressed its hips towards his hand, and when Zander started to gently thrust with his fingers, Boo soon started moving in counterpoint with him, seeking deeper stokes, seeking to be filled. Its smooth inner muscles wrapped around his fingers with a tight strength that made his cock throb and ache in anticipation.

But he’d be careful, no matter how much his body was screaming for Boo. He was giving it its first time, after all, and, well, he wanted to prove himself worthy of its obsession with him.

“Boo, tonight wasn’t the first time you thought about making yourself a hole, was it?” he asked softly.

“I thought about it but I—I couldn’t think about thinking about it,” Boo said. “A boogeyman doesn’t—but I tried to figure out how to construct myself for pleasure—the plan was ready in my mind when you said I could touch.”

“It feels like it was worth the effort,” Zander said. “You feel good to me, Boo. How wet you are, how tightly you hold my fingers—I just want to know if you feel good in yourself, like this?”

Boo took a shuddery breath. “I feel—wonderful,” it said. “I don’t have any way to compare this with my existence as an ordinary boogeyman. And still—the bodies I make have a lot to do with yours. The nerves I make are based on yours—you’re the only living thing in my space. So—is your whole body this attuned to pleasure, too?”

“You know, I think I read that humans do have some nerves that are just meant to feel good when we’re caressed,” Zander said. “Like this.” He ran his hand down Boo’s side, over its hip, down its thigh. Amazing that Boo could instinctively create all the complexity of a living body, that it could guide those instincts when it wanted to—when it developed new and strange desires. And was Boo still changing? During those first touches, Boo had hardly seemed to give off any heat, but now, now it felt distinctly warm, more alive, more fleshly, than ever.

“Then why—why are you not always touching?” Boo asked. Its hand slid up his arm and tangled in his hair.

Unexpected tears burned in the corner of Zander’s eyes. “We—we want to be. I think we really want to be. But sometimes we can’t.”

Boo bent its face close to his, as terrifying and wonderful as ever. “I don’t understand,” it said. “But I am here to touch you now, and you are here to touch me, now. We can have this pleasure of touch and touch-back.”

“Yes,” Zander said. “You’re right, you’re right.” He smiled a little; started moving his fingers in Boo again. Boo arched its back, raising its long body.

“This feels—I don’t understand, but I want more,” Boo said. “I—I showed you my hole with your hand to—to show you it was there. But I want to feel your cock inside me.”

That disorienting shift—from the alien first-timer to the pornographically familiar. Zander wasn’t sure he was getting used to it, but he was certainly ready to roll with it. “Yes—I—I think we’ll both like that.” Boo smiled and reached down between them, and with claws that Zander now realized must be much sharper than he had been thinking, deftly reduced his shorts to rags and tossed them away. It should have been terrifying, but Boo hadn’t dealt him even the slightest scratch. There was only delight in this destruction, and as Zander’s cock stood free, it was practically dripping, just like Boo’s hole.

Despite both their states, Zander reached over to the bedside table and took a small bottle of lube out of the drawer. It would never be a bad thing to have, especially in this uncharted territory. He slicked himself up more carefully than usual, trying to ignore any sensation for the moment. “All right, Boo,” he said, about to guide them back that crucial small distance, when a thought occurred to him. “Do you like the position we’re in now? You on top, and me underneath?”

“Does it make a difference?” Boo asked. “I’m ready. I want to be filled.”

So matter-of-fact when it said these things! It wasn’t trying to seduce him, and yet he was as seduced as he’d ever been!

“With you on top you have more control over how deep you take me. The—the pace, also. But if you were underneath me—how do I even put this? You wouldn’t have to constantly be deciding how to fuck? You could just let yourself feel, if you wanted to do that?”

“Oh,” Boo said slowly. “I think I like the sound of that.” It grinned. “I’ve spent a lot of time under you with the bed in the way. I’d love to find out what it’s like with nothing in between us.”

Amazing, Zander thought. Amazing. Humor, or a very near relative of it. Just another thing that a boogeyman wouldn’t strictly need to survive, but that this wondrous being was able to use.

With Boo on the bed, and only the streetlamp providing light, it was harder for Zander to see it than ever. But there were glimmers enough, of eyes, of teeth. There was suggestion enough, in the subtle variation of shadows. Boo’s new, messy hair spread out on the pillow. The long, narrow shape of its body, with all its suggestions of curiously attached muscles. And now, rising into the clarity offered by the streetlamp, Boo’s strange hand, with its fearsome claws. It cupped Zander’s cheek and he nuzzled against it.

“Even now that I’ve touched you, I’m still going to love looking at you,” Boo said. “I understand that now. I’d thought it was just something to go before touching. But now I know more about pleasure, and I know that looking is a pleasure, too.”

Zander quashed the impulse to laugh this off, to say something cliché about flattery. He didn’t want to build any barriers between them for Boo’s first time, for Boo’s sake. And for his own sake, he didn’t want to force any distance between himself and someone who so plainly and earnestly desired him.

So he didn’t say anything that went back to himself. “You’re the most astonishing being I’ve ever seen, Boo.” And he leaned down and kissed it. Boo sighed and arched up towards him, a vivid reminder of what they both so wanted. He ran his hand lightly down Boo’s body, traced the path of its hipbones, and again found that soft, wet opening. Boo had said it was just a hole, but it was incredible that it had made one at all—that it had gone so far outside its version of normality as a boogeyman in the hope of making a sexual connection. Zander could only hope that Boo would find it everything it’d hoped for. He eased the head of his cock against Boo’s hole, and, taking a deep breath, slid inside the body of his boogeyman.

Immediately, Boo grabbed his shoulders with its hands, its claws pricking against his skin. The tiny points of pain were immediately subsumed in the heat of desire, however, as Boo lifted its hips urgently against Zander’s.

“Am I really giving you this much pleasure?” Boo asked, sounding dazed.

Zander gave a single, breathy laugh. “Just you wait.” He hoped the connection between them would be strong, that it would help Boo figure out how it could find the satisfaction and relief that Zander knew he was going to find in Boo. He began to thrust shallowly, Boo at once joining him in his rhythm.

“Yes,” Boo said, a sigh and a hiss at once. “Yes.” Its hands crept over him in ever-greedy caresses, boldly grasping handfuls of his flesh with alien, yet ardent, delight and desire. Its wet heat held him close, inner muscles tightening around his cock every time he withdrew. It drove all thoughts of biological artistry from Zander’s mind, leaving room only for the thrill of this deepest, closest touch.

“Tell me—tell me what you want,” Zander said. “Want to make you feel—as good as I do.”

“I don’t know, I don’t know—” Boo wrapped its long legs around Zander and pulled him closer. “Just—more, more. Harder, faster!”

Boo’s groan of pleasure when Zander obeyed was nearly his undoing. He had no clear idea at all how he managed to hold back, save that he suddenly craved to know what other sounds he could coax from Boo. Every little moan, every little gasp seemed to speak volumes, but volumes that would contain only the simplest statements, over and over again. I want you. I need you. You feel good on me, you feel good in me. But what more needed to be said in the bizarre little paradise his apartment had become? It could never be shared, never be explained, but that didn’t matter. It only mattered that he was real, and Boo was real, and no matter how astonishing their first meeting, they were both finally getting the touch they had been so desperate for.

Zander bent to kiss Boo’s fanged mouth, their disparate bodies pressing together as if there was no reason for them ever to have been apart.

“Zander,” Boo said softly, breaking the kiss for a moment, and Zander smiled down at it and impulsively nuzzled his cheek against its. Then, “Zander!” Boo cried out, baffled and worshipful, arching up against him and clenching around him tighter than ever before.

The thought “did I just make my boogeyman come?” just barely had time to form in Zander’s mind before his thrusts lost their steadiness and his own orgasm washed over him in a bright wave of pleasure.

“Zander,” Boo murmured, once they had both collected themselves a little and were lying side by side, “I want to sleep here. In your bed. With you.”

“No going back, huh? I’m happy with that.” He lightly ran his hand down Boo’s arm. “But what if you sleep too deeply? I can close my blackout curtains, of course, but they haven’t worked great here and the sun might still get through. I don’t want you to get injured after all the—all the good things of tonight.”

“I’m not worried. I…even if I’ve changed, I’m still a boogeyman. I’ll wake when the light is too much. And I feel like…I have reserves of energy. Even more than I did at the start of the night.”

“Well, all right,” Zander said. “I’m going to guess that you won’t mind cuddling?”

Boo flashed a grin. “Oh no, never.”

When Zander woke he wasn’t disoriented that Boo was in his bed; he knew very well he hadn’t been dreaming last night. But he was surprised that he was able to see Boo so clearly. The sun wasn’t fully up yet, but it was undeniably dawn. And Boo was still sleeping peacefully, an absurdly elongated little spoon. Zander did want to spend some time looking at Boo, at the form it had made of both instinct and desire, but its description of the terrible effects of the sun made him reach out and shake its shoulder instead.

Boo blinked sleepily, as if it had a lot of experience with sleeping and not just phasing out of existence during the day. “The daylight, Boo! The daylight!”

It yawned, revealing every single one of its astonishing fangs. “Can’t be daylight,” it said. “You have more uncomfortable lamps.”

“Boo, really!” Zander started trying to move Boo’s miles of limbs around so he could get out of bed and get to the blackout curtains. Why hadn’t he just taken the time to close them last night? It wouldn’t have hurt, it might have helped, and now Boo was way too close to being burned by the sun for the second time because of him! And apparently it was too disoriented? Unused to waking up? To stop hindering Zander from trying to keep it safe—wow, how weird, to go from terrified to protective of one’s boogeyman within a few hours—wait. Did the boogeyman thing explain the situation he was having right now? He was afraid for Boo, Boo naturally did things that were scary, and so Boo’s arms and legs were trapping him in his bed. It was the same thing as not being able to run in a nightmare.

Zander flopped back down and tried to calm himself. Boo was a grown boogeyman, much older than Zander if he’d correctly deciphered its comments on when it had come to exist. If it was going to take these risks, let it! It had come back from the other sunburn just fine!

Zander had maybe three seconds of calm before Boo sat upright quickly enough to make the bed springs squeak. “This IS sunlight!”

“Yeah, and don’t you need to hide from it?”

“I…I hide from light because it hurts me. Or it hurt me.” Boo slowly turned one of its hands back and forth in the dawn light. “But I barely feel anything now. It’s just a tingle. I think the light still might be dissolving me, but somehow it’s so much easier to heal, now. More sunlight would probably still be too much. But I don’t feel any need to dissolve for the length of the day.” It frowned. “I have changed.”

“Boo.” Zander sat up. “How?”

“I couldn’t have guessed…” Boo spoke softly. “But then again, maybe I am the same. Maybe this is part of being a boogeyman, but a boogeyman that followed its instincts, a boogeyman without a Zander, would have only ever tasted fear.” It fixed its gaze back on Zander. “You wondered at me. You were curious about me. You felt desire for me. And now, this morning, you were afraid for me. All of these emotions…I think they are more powerful than your everyday fear. At least for me. At least when they come from you.” It paused, and when it spoke again a note of trepidation had crept into its voice. “Do you think you could continue to wonder at me? I…want to have continuity. In your space. With you. If I don’t have to worry about the sunlight so much, and staying out of sight…there are so many ways I could do more than just exist.”

“Boo.” Zander took its hand. “I think I’ll be wondering at you for a long, long time.” He paused. “Do you still need fear, specifically, now?”

Boo shrugged. “Nightmares are always enough for a boogeyman. I just…ended up different.”

“I’m glad you did,” Zander said. “I’m glad you ended up different with me.” Boo immediately sprawled around him in a clumsy embrace, and Zander laughed. “But it’s a hell of a time to start being part of the world, you know?”

“No, I don’t know,” Boo said.

Zander sighed, though he smiled, too. “Well. I’ll be here as you figure it out. Now, let’s find a safe place for you to spend the day.” And though he didn’t say anything then, the question still bloomed within him—if wonder can carry you through the dawn, what might love do?

#exophilia #monster lover #boogeyman #non-fandom writing #well I mean you know

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rainyday-deer · 3 years

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Hi so going through some of your tags and looking at your amazing edits and gifs, I was jw what app you used for it and maybe if you could give me some tips for editing?

Awh, thank you! That's v sweet!

When it comes to edits, I usually use PS CC 2018, and then whatever art program I'm using at the time (It used to be SAI, now it's Clip)

As for tips, uhhhh... I'm not the best at explaining things, but I'll do my best!

I'll use some of my favorites as examples because I think visuals help lmao

This one in particular is the product of me frankensteining a LOT of different parts. The characters are all from different scenes, so is the background, and even Rapunzel's mouth is from a different scene and wasn't originally part of the screencap her body was from. With edits, I try not to redraw a whole lot of pieces myself, esp if they're stylized a certain way (IE; Mouths, Eyes, accessories) and try to pull them from other screencaps I have. If I can find it in the show, i will use it, even if it's just as a base. They're almost always on their own layer.

The only thing I often draw on my own is Rapunzel's hair, and just the very ends, only when I'm giving her a hair cut, just because it's easier. This is usually also on its own layer, under the Punz cut out once I've erased her braid.

Sidenote: Changing things like eye and hair colors. It usually looks MUCH nicer and less... Obvious that you changed it if you sort of build the color up. Rapunzel's hair is changed to brown by using a hue layer first, and then a multiply layer at like 82% to get it as close to canon as I can without just slapping color over her hair and having to redraw things like details or texture or lighting that might already exist.

It's actually WAY simpler to cut out ALL of a character, and then change things on a separate layer from everything else, esp if I want to keep the background the same, or just don't want to disrupt it, OR need to have a group layer over it (like for changing hair colors/covering something up.)

It's ALSO way easier to just... slap the character or a different background, or find the same one without anyone in it (which is easier than you think, since characters move around, or when they leave an area, there's usually a frame or two of the BG on its own)

Of course, if that's not possible (like in the above), you can usually get away with clone stamping the bg underneath the cut out of the character to try and cover up any existing bits of what might still be there.

And also sometimes just shrinking it waaaay down makes it harder to see any bg inconsistencies-- Which is fine for things like icons, which is what this was originally for:

ALSO HANDY: Pay attention to the BGs lighting, and even if you're going to change it later, it's generally easier to change the lighting on EVERYTHING if the BG and Character already match:

The BG and both characters were already daylit, so it made matching them a lot easier. Not that it's IMPOSSIBLE, it's just WAY easier. (Compare Hector below, who was in darker lighting than the BG was initially. He took a lot longer to adjust just right.)

It also kind of helps to sort of study how characters are framed in the actual show? Pay attention to scaling, the horizon line, etc. Use things like blurring or scale to your advantage to give the impression of some sort of depth, so it just doesn't look like you slapped one character on top of another. Try to make eye contact! Try to see if you can make it look like something is happening! Play around, see what looks good!

ESPECIALLY play around and see what you can turn 100% into something else. The shadow demon was originally only Tromus' hands and arms. Goopy Punz there was once just a Normal Rapunzel cap. It's v handy to push and see what you can do.

I draw, so a lot of this stuff I'm already familiar with, and it helps a lot tbh, since I use what I know.

That said EVERYTHING and I mean EVERYTHING is 10x easier if you have a tablet. You have better control over the lasso tool, the brushes, color picking.

I've always kind of looked at it as like... Digital paper dolls. Everything is its own piece, and it's fun to try and see what you can get away with.

#;Anon #THIS IS SO LONG but I hope it makes sense #Im not v good at explaining but I tried I promise #Moga's edits

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drabbles-of-writing · 4 years

Text

Splitting You in Two

This is part of my Four Years AU

AO3

Masterpost

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

Sharing a curse had its ups and downs.

On the upside, the Owl Beast was no more. And less elixir was needed to combat it now.

On the downside, the Owl Beast was never completely gone. Half-a-beast is what Eda called them, though Luz claimed they looked more like harpies.

Instead of turning into Beasts, Eda and Lilith were plagued with half-transformations, leaving their minds half-conscious.

They could switch, it seemed, between their states of mind. Sometimes they were more sentient, other times they were more beastly. Due to the curse altering their state, it was imperative that they remained calm.

If calm enough, the curse would even eventually settle down on it’s own. Of course, they still took an elixir after the fact, just in case.

Most of this was determined after Eda’s first two transformations with the shared curse. They had gone surprisingly well, since both Luz and King were used to this by now. Aside from a minor amount of damage to the edge of the marketplace, they got off pretty clean.

Eyes, however, had begun to drift towards Lilith.

A first transformation was never meant to go well.

Lilith was in the backyard with Amity, showing her how to make illusions like plants or objects seem natural. Luz was sitting crossed-legged in the grass and leaning against the house, watching Amity with rapt interest.

“Keeping an illusion still is simple enough,” Lilith said, almost drawing a spell circle in the air on impulse. “But making it look natural in it’s environments is easier said than done.”

“Wouldn’t that help confuse people if it looked unnatural?” Luz called over.

“Yes, but that’s not the point.” Lilith said calmly, sparing the human a mildly annoyed glance. “Illusions are not only for ambushes and pranks, contrary to what the twins would have you believe.”

Amity snickered, and Lilith’s mouth curved slightly upwards.

“Create an illusion of something simple,” Lilith instructed. “Like a flower or leaf.”

Amity drew a circle in the air and created a black feather, no longer than a finger. She held it in the palm of her head, showing it to Lilith.

“Oooh,” Luz grinned, despite this being rather easy magic.

Lilith raised a brow as Amity ducked her head shyly and muttered under her breath.

“Now,” The witch continued on. “Movement is a very delicate thing.” She said. “Making something life-like is a difficult task, which is why we’re focusing on smaller objects like these. It’s imperative to know the perceived weight of your object and to know what your surroundings feel and look like.”

She glanced to Luz, and deciding to make the most of the situation, gestured for her to stand up.

Luz was surprised but obediently stood, fiddling her hands together.

“Do you have a wind glyph on you?” Lilith questioned.

“Uh,” Luz patted herself down before remembering that was probably a bad idea and felt around much more cautiously.

She eventually pulled out a wind glyph from her cloaks inside pockets, showing it off proudly.

“Good, I want you to get it ready.” Lilith nodded and turned back to Amity.

“When the wind from Luz’s glyph reaches the feather, I want you to move it how you think a real feather would move.” She said. “Be sure to judge the force of the wind and to remember how the feather is shaped.”

“Got it,” Amity nodded, holding the feather higher and focusing on it.

“Luz?” Lilith glanced at the human. “Would you do the honors?”

Luz nodded and held up her glyph, aiming it right towards Amity’s outstretched hand. She activated the glyph and let it go, watching as it disintegrated into the wind and flew towards the green-haired witch.

Once the wind breezed by, the feather rose into the air. Amity was laser-focused on the illusion, making it tilt and turn as it fluttered off, resembling a kayak in the air.

She continued to focus on it until it lay peacefully on the grass, a few meters away from them.

“Not bad,” Lilith praised with a nod. “Perhaps I should’ve started with something harder for you.” She lightly teased.

Amity lit up, her shoulders straightening. Until she forgot to focus on the feather and it poofed out of existence.

“However, with that in mind, the feather was a bit too buoyant.” Lilith continued, holding her hands together. “It looked more like a boat. Feathers usually flip and flutter in the air. Granted, Luz’s wind was a bit too light to show most natural movements.”

“Oh, do you want me to make it stronger next time?” Luz asked, looking at Amity instead of Lilith.

“I would prefer it,” Lilith said, her voice slightly strained.

“Just tell me yes or no, Lilith.” Luz muttered, digging in her pockets again.

Lilith frowned and narrowed her eyes at the human for a moment before decidedly ignoring it. Amity shuffled her feet and cleared her throat awkwardly. She opened her mouth to say something before slowly shutting it again, her eyes drawn to Lilith’s hands.

“Now, while Luz is searching for her glyph, I want you to try something a little heavier.” Lilith continued, turning back to her apprentice. “Perhaps a pencil rolling on the ground, or a sweater.” She said, raising a hand and gesturing with it.

“Of course, that depends on how strong the wind is, so let’s just try with something like a large leaf or…” Lilith paused.

The witch had suddenly gone still, staring at her mentor, face whiter than a sheet and pupils slitted so thin they were like a pen line.

“Amity?” Lilith said, brow creasing in worry.

She followed the witch’s gaze, which wasn’t necessarily on her, but rather her hand.

Her left hand, which she had been gesturing with, was suddenly gnarled and inflamed. Her nails are grown to claws and her skin had hardened into a scale-like texture.

“Luz!” Amity cried, stepping back. “Luz, she’s--it’s the--”

Luz jerked her head up, whirling back to the two. She saw Lilith staring in shock at her hand and in a flash, leapt to her feet.

“Amity, get back!” Luz warned, pulling out a fire glyph she had found in her search for a wind glyph.

Lilith hadn’t moved, transfixed at her hand. More scales popped up and her hand grew in size, feathers sprouting at her wrist and growing along her arm. She raised her other hand and noticed it was beginning to do the same.

She was thinking so much and nothing at all, a blend she despised but couldn’t stop.

“Lilith!”

She jerked her head up. Amity had stepped back, closer to Luz, but not close enough. Her eyes were wide and terrified, her ears pressed back.

Lilith had seen this position many times before, and that remembrance sent a spike of pain through her chest.

“Amity,” Lilith breathed, her voice raspy as feathers suddenly sprung up around her arms. “I’m-I’m okay,” She said quickly, reaching out before she sharply pulled back, remembering what her hand looked like.

“We need to go get Eda,” Luz said, grabbing Amity’s shoulder and pulling her gaze away. “Lilith, stay right where you are!”

“You know as well as I that once I am cursed I will have no say in the--”

Lilith’s retort was cut off as there was a loud rip and she snarled, her knees buckling beneath her.

A single wing erupted from her back, soaked and mangled with black feathers that stretched far, far above her head.

Amity jerked back, covering her mouth with her hand as she gasped. Luz turned to her, taking in her horrified look. A part of her would wonder if that’s how she looked during Eda’s transformations.

“We gotta go,” She said, turning Amity away from the sight. “Come on.”

Lilith’s transformation was increasing tenfold, and Luz could tell by her screams of anguish and the sound of flesh and bone ripping and remending behind her.

Luz grabbed Amity’s wrist and ran to the back door, throwing it open. She looked back for just a moment to usher Amity inside, and in those moments she swore she’d never been so scared for a woman like Lilith.

A second wing had grown from her back, were wet and limp. They hung at her sides like shades, and were shaped just like a ravens. She could see a similar jet-black tail poking out of her dress, also wet and tangled. Her hands were enlarged and scaled, with nails like claws. Her feet were worse, and had truly become massive talons. She was sure her legs were no different.

Feathers could be seen coming out of her sleeves and around her neck, sticking up at odd angles. Her ears had elongated, not to the extent of the owl beast, but long enough, with tufts of fur in them.

When Lilith looked up towards them, her eyes were jet black, and her pupils were the color of her eyes.

Luz grabbed Amity’s arm, about to yank the two of them inside the Owl House.

The second Luz touched Amity, and Luz swore it was the millisecond, Lilith’s lips curled back into a growl, exposing dagger-like fangs far too big for her mouth.

Faster than Luz thought possible for her, Lilith lunged towards them, her wings raised over her head and talons extended.

Luz yelped and shoved Amity through the door before grabbing and slamming it shut, wincing as she heard, and felt, Lilith ram her body against the wooden door, hissing and snarling as she clawed at it.

“E-Eda was...wasn’t like this...” Amity choked, holding her hands close and stepping away from the door, shaking.

“She was, you just weren’t here.” Luz shook her head, locking the back door and slipping through the kitchen. “The curse switches between a feral or mostly-normal state. Lilith must be too freaked out right now.”

Amity showed no sign of having heard her, only staring in silence at the closed back door.

Luz was about to try and comfort Amity when she paused. She waited and listened.

Not a sound.

Lilith had stopped attacking the door.

The realization chilled Luz to the bone. She took a step back and withdrew an ice glyph, nervously looking around.

“Amity, come h--”

The large kitchen window suddenly smashed to bits, sending glass and random kitchen items falling off the counter and scattering on the floor. Luz leapt forward and grabbed Amity, tugging the both of them down as she covered their heads with her cloak.

Lilith snarled and scrambled up, glass digging into her shoulders and still-wet wings. She dug her claws into the counter and pulled herself up, hissing as her eyes darted about the room.

Luz sprung up and threw her ice glyph, leading it to shoot out towards the cursed witch.

Lilith ducked and the spike went out the broken window. Lilith howled and grabbed the spike, climbing onto it with a shriek and running at the girls.

Luz rolled to the side and so did Amity. Luz stumbled to her feet and searched for another glyph, looking up just in time to see a claw swiping at her.

She jerked back, but Lilith’s claws grazed her face, and Luz quickly felt blood well up around her left eye and blurr her vision.

Lilith pulled back for a moment as Luz stumbled into the kitchen island and slumped to the ground, her breathing rapid as she raised a hand to her bloody eye.

The witch opened her mouth in a roar before a blast of magenta fire struck one of her wings.

She shrieked and flailed about, the dampness of her wings stopping it from catching ablaze as she spun around.

Amity was standing with fire hovering over her hand. She looked furious for a brief moment before terror quickly came back at the realization Lilith was now focused on her.

She attempted to throw another ball of fire at her as she stumbled back. Lilith snarled and lunged for her, her talons slamming into Amity’s shoulders and chest as the girl hit the wall and slumped to the ground, smaller than a mouse in the face of the beast.

Lilith’s wings arched over her head and her maw opened wide, flashing fangs that could split bones in half without a second thought. Amity winced and could only squeeze her eyes shut, turning her head away as Lilith’s claws dug into her flesh, surely creating scars.

Lilith lowered her head till it was inches away from Amity, unaware of the frantic footsteps and slamming of doors as someone ran down the stairs towards the kitchen, where Luz was frantically trying to grab at a plant glyph that had fallen out of her pocket.

She sniffed the girls hair, pausing and making a face that could almost be described as a frown. She clicked and rumbled, her jaw slowly shutting as Amity peeked open an eye.

Lilith tilted her head, eyes narrowed.

“Amity?” She said, her voice husky and growly, but clearly confused, and if Amity didn’t know any better...scared.

“Get off her!”

There was a flash of green, and a massive vine sprung out and wrapped around Lilith’s throat, tearing her off of Amity and sending her crashing to the floor.

Instead of Luz holding the other end of the vine, Amity whirred around to instead see Eda standing in the doorway, gripping the vine for dear life as Lilith thrashed and kicked about on the floor, with King standing behind her and clutching a golden bottle.

Lilith got right back to her feet, hissing and pulling against the vine with a roar. Eda yanked her sister closer, getting ready to take a bottle of elixir from King, who was holding it fearfully.

Luz wiped at the blood over her eye and rushed to Amity’s side. The girl was staring off into nothing, seeming to be in a state of shock.

“Amity? Amity!” Luz waved her hands in front of Amity’s face and shook her shoulder frantically.

Amity perked up then, staring at Luz in surprise, like she had forgotten where she was. Her gaze instantly went to the blood trickling into the human’s eye.

“Luz, you--”

Amity reached for Luz, but they were both startled by a blood-curdling shriek, and both turned back to the fight going on just a few meters away.

Lilith was beating her wings, though they still couldn’t lift her off the ground. She tugged and pulled at the restraint, snapping her jaws. Eda barely dodged as she grabbed the elixir from King, hissing right back at the half-a-beast.

Faint scales were popping up on Eda’s hands, plus feathers on her arms. Luz figured that if there was a reason to worry of Eda transforming at this moment, Eda would’ve told them.

Granted, this entire situation was probably a cause for a concern or two.

Lilith stepped back, her talons clacking against the tile and making a fragile one crack. Luz grabbed Amity and hoisted her to her feet, pulling the two of them back. She held Amity close to her protectively, never taking her non-bloody eye off the witch.

Lilith opened her mouth in another angry shriek, her wings raised high above her head and brushing the ceiling. Eda took her chance and sharply tugged Lilith forward, shoving the open bottle of elixir into Lilith’s mouth.

About half the bottle made its way into her throat before she spat it out, growling and nearly snapping off Eda’s ears for her troubles.

In moments, however, she began to calm.

Lilith’s wings shrunk, and the gnarly scales and size of her hands and feet began to grow fainter and fainter. Her legs gave out from under her, and Lilith tumbled to the floor in a heap.

Her wings were still visible, just far smaller now, and many of her feathers and glimpses of scales could be seen. But when she opened her eyes with a gasp, only one of her eyes were an inky black, the turquoise one completely normal.

A wave of relief swept through the room, and Eda finally relaxed, looking almost ready to fall herself. Luz slowly released Amity, letting the girl stand beside her. She held her sleeve to her eye again and glanced at the girl, who had her hands wringing together close to her chest, looking more anxious than the day before a test.

“Edalyn?” Lilith mumbled, her voice hoarse as she coughed.

She looked down at the bottle of elixir and recoiled, seeing her reflection in the glass. She lifted a hand to her face, feeling around her jet black eye.

King waddled over, brushing by Eda as he took the elixir and held it up to Lilith, out of everyone, giving her a sympathetic look.

Lilith swallowed and mumbled a thanks before drinking the rest of the elixir, shuttering and cringing as the rest of her transformation vanished back into her body.

“You alright?” Eda asked gruffly.

“I...I believe so.” Lilith nodded, still holding the elixir as she stared at the ground. “Is...is this...normal?”

“Wish it wasn’t,” Eda sighed, shaking her head, looking so much older than she already was. “You should’ve seen me when I had the whole curse on my back.”

Lilith’s flinch didn’t go unnoticed, but nobody mentioned it.

Eda’s gaze went to the girls then, and she sprung up the second she saw the blood Luz was trying to hide. She rushed around Lilith, taking Luz’s hand and pulling it away from her eye.

“Is it bad?” Luz asked quietly, looking up at Eda with wide eyes as she wiped away as much blood she could.

“...no,” Eda breathed a sigh of relief. “It’s a bit deep, but you’ll be fine. It just got above your eye, you’ll see.”

Lilith looked back around, shame and horror evident as King stood by the witch, shuffling his feet. She caught sight of Amity’s trembling state and began to sit up, but Eda beat her to it.

“Kid, hey,” Eda said softly, and Amity finally looked up at her. “Is anything broken?”

Amity swallowed and shook her head, looking like a small child after they’d gotten in trouble. She crossed her arms, like she was trying to hide the claw marks dug into her body and through her shirt.

Eda sighed and pulled her arms away right after, wincing at the sight.

“It doesn’t hurt that much,” Amity mumbled, avoiding her gaze.

“Amity,” Lilith breathed, shakily getting to her feet, using a nearby table to help herself up. “Amity, great Titan are you--” “She’ll live, Lilith.” Eda growled, not even sparing a look back.

Lilith slowly turned away, her eyes downcast as she stared at the ground, more specifically, at where her talon had cracked the tile.

“C’mon, let’s see if we can call that healer friend of yours. I’d rather try to avoid risking a hospital visit.” Eda sighed, gently placing an arm on Amity’s back.

Amity nodded numbly, letting Eda guide her past Lilith, who still refused to look up, and out of the kitchen.

Eda glanced at Lilith, and for a brief moment, her anger subsided, and it was replaced with dull sorrow.

She sighed and continued on without a word.

King still stood where he was as Eda sat Amity on the couch, grabbing the few healing glyphs she had as Luz called Viney on Amity’s scroll. They fell into a quiet rhythm, trying to ease Amity’s pain before the shock wore off. Luz didn’t even start to worry about her own until Eda instructed her to do so.

King glanced towards Lilith, who was now slumped in a seat at the kitchen table. He fidgeted his claws for a moment before climbing onto one of the chairs and then onto the table, hesitantly walking over until he flopped down by Lilith’s head, which was buried in her arms.

“It’s not so bad,” King said, and Lilith peeked an eye out from behind her hair. “I mean, Eda used to eat any random animal she found in the woods. I’m pretty sure she actually made a small species of bird go extinct in this area.”

Lilith didn’t seem to lighten at all. She moved her arms to look at one of her hands, and King sucked in a breath.

Her fingers were still coated in blood, most of which had to be Amity’s.

“Do you…” King twitched his tail nervously. “Want a hand towel?”

Lilith nodded, never taking her eyes off her hand.

King walked across the table and leapt onto the kitchen island and then to the counter. He picked up a towel that had fallen into the sink and dampened it underneath the faucet.

He carefully stepped around the broken glass, ignoring the smashed window, and jumped back over to the table, holding out the towel.

Lilith looked up then. She stared blankly at the towel for a few moments before taking it from King and wiping it over her hands.

King sat in front of her, lightly tapping his claws on the table, unsure of what to do. He shyly lay a paw on Lilith’s arm, wrapping his tail around himself.

Lilith paused and glanced at King, offering him a small forced smile before it fell again.

“I messed up again, didn’t I?”

King looked back through the kitchen door. Luz was sitting on the floor by Amity, holding paper towels to her eye as she talked to her on occasion before going back to talking on her scroll, presumably to Viney. Eda was still focused on healing the worst of Amity’s marks, her eyes glazed and not at all there.

“I mean, Eda did stuff like this before. I don’t think we can blame you for this one.” He said simply.

Lilith deflated, letting the towel fall back to the table as she hunched her shoulders.

“But, uh, I mean, the curse is different now.” King said quickly. “Once you get the hang of it, then you’ll be perfectly fine. Remember Eda’s last transformation? She was barely any different.”

“That’s not what I’m worried about,” Lilith mumbled. “Edal...she went through decades of this,” She said quietly, curling her hands close to herself. “And now she had to see it from me.”

“She managed,” King shrugged. “I mean, now it’s better for her to deal with.”

“You…” Lilith turned to King before shaking her head. “You have a strange sense of grudges, you know that? You’re always focused on only the present, unless it’s something extremely personal that happened to only you.”

“Amity crushed my cupcake and that is unforgivable.” King huffed, crossing his arms. “But...yeah. I find it easier to focus on the now than the past.” He admitted, appearing to space out for a moment.

“And that’s why you never learn,” Lilith sighed.

“I said I prefer to focus on the present, that doesn’t mean I’m ignoring what happened.” King grumbled, narrowing his eyes. “Last I checked, I’m not the one who has the whole house still mad at her.”

Lilith looked away, holding her chin in her hand as she muttered, but quieted down pretty quickly.

King sat up and fumbled with his tail for a moment, continuously glancing back in the living room, where Amity was now laying back on the couch with Luz happily chatting to her without a care in the world.

His gaze went back to Lilith, who, in stark contrast to the lit living room, was sulking in the dark kitchen, the only light coming through the broken window, only reaching halfway across the table.

Then he finally noticed her back.

“Your bleeding!” King gasped, standing bolt upright.

“Oh, am I?” Lilith mumbled, raising her head and trying to turn back.

The glass that had stuck into her wings from crashing through the window had transferred to her back. Chunks of glass were sticking out, somehow making her black dress even darker as it soaked her upper back and shoulders.

“Eda, Eda!” King called, stumbling and falling off the table before springing right back up. “Lilith’s covered in glass!”

“I’m fine, King,” Lilith hissed, a bit frantic as she tried to reach for him. “I’ve had worse than a bit of…”

Lilith trailed off, spotting two red heels in the doorway. She slowly looked up, facing Eda watching her.

“...I’m okay,” Lilith said, slowly straightening up in her chair, obviously trying to hide a wince. “King’s just being anxious.” She said with a wave of her hand.

Eda huffed, storming over and grabbing Lilith’s shoulder, sharply turning her to get a look at her back, where King was fearfully pointing.

She looked over the injury for only a few moments before releasing her sister and dragging a hand down her face, exasperated.

“Turn around in your chair and I’ll get them out.” Eda sighed. “We’ve got a few spare healing glyphs somewhere, or I can make a few. Is there glass anywhere else?”

Lilith blinked up at her sister, too stunned for words. She shook her head, never taking her eyes off her.

“Just scrapes,” Lilith said quietly. “You don’t have to--”

“You think you can remove glass from your own back?” Eda raised a brow, crossing her arms.

“...I can manage.” Lilith mumbled.

“I can help!” King offered, raising a paw.

“Don’t ask King for help, he’s clumsier than Luz.” Eda said sternly, much to the demon's annoyance.

“Look, I know you don’t want to help me, and I know you’re worried about those two,” Lilith said, keeping her voice from snapping as she gestured towards the living room, where Luz and Amity were quietly talking.

“So please, spare me your pity.” Lilith said, crossing her arms on the table and laying her head on them, turning her head away.

Barely a few seconds later, there was a sudden pain in her back.

Lilith yelped and jerked up, feeling something slide out with a sting. She whirled around, seeing that Eda, with her bare hands, had pulled out a large chunk of glass from between her shoulder blades, revealing it was covered in blood.

“You know,” Eda said, placing the shard on the table in front of Lilith with more force than necessary. “For someone who managed to become the leader of the most powerful coven in the Isles, you’re the most stubborn, idiotic person I know.” She growled.

“You’re no treat yourself,” Lilith grumbled back.

“Nope, no, shut up, shut it.” Eda raised a finger. “This isn’t about one-upping each other. You’re so stubborn that you’d rather bleed out than admit that, for once in your life, you had no control over a situation.”

“I’m not going to die, Edalyn.” Lilith muttered.

“Yes, you’ll be fine, but you know as well as I that if you were that hurt, you still wouldn’t let me at least try to be nice to you.” Eda growled. “Face it, Lily, things are different now. And you don’t have a say in it anymore.”

Lilith gritted her teeth and curled her lip, flashing sharp rows of fangs. She gave a low growl, and Eda reciprocated, revealing her own fangs, her golden tooth noticeably longer than the others, as she gave a deeper growl.

The two stayed in a stare-off for a few seconds, causing King to fearfully hop off the chair, instead hiding underneath it.

That’s when the front door opened.

“Viney!” Luz’s voice drifted into the kitchen. “How did you--”

“I had Puddles fly me,” Viney replied, and you could faintly hear the sounds of cooing outside. “Amity, c’mere, let me see how much you guys managed to patch up.”

Lilith’s growling fell right then, Eda’s following a moment after. She turned her head downwards, her ears pressing back.

“You should go check on them,” She said softly.

“Yeah, I should.” Eda agreed, taking a step back as her eyes narrowed.

She continued to stare at Lilith for a moment longer, and her sister didn’t look up. King crawled out from under the chair, looking up at her with his tail hanging underneath him.

Eda opened her mouth to say something before slowly shutting it again, thinking.

“Tell them I’m sorry,”

Eda almost didn’t hear what Lilith said, her voice was quieter than a whisper. Eda blinked and looked her sister up and down.

“Tell them yourself.” She said instead.

She backed up further, the light coming through the kitchen entryway bathing her as she continued watching Lilith, who continued to sit at the dark table as she turned away.

With that, Eda walked out of the kitchen without another word.

King watched the doorway for a few moments, tuning out the words of the others before climbing back up onto the table by Lilith. He rested his head on her arm, closing his eyes as she used her other hand to stroke his back.

Her eyes stayed transfixed on the glass shard sitting in front of her, the blood already starting to dry on the wooden table.

In the stretching shadows, the shards in her back almost looked like spikes.

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adorablele · 4 years

Text

killer latte art; l.mh

❦ pairing; lee mark x reader ❦ genre; fluff, just pure cotton candy sweet fluff ❦ word count; 4.2k + (officially my longest fic yet) ❦ summary; your friends swore to you that this ‘mark’ guy created some killer latte art; however, as you stare at the white blob in your cup, you can’t help but think they were blinded by the sparkle in his eyes.

HAPPY MARK DAY!!! I hope that he’s eating and sleeping well. I hope that he’s staying hydrated and staying safe. I hope that he’s laughing a bunch and smiling until his cheeks hurt.

❦ a/n; uhm, so in the process of making this, I fell in love with mark. please enjoy <3

“Alright, that’s pretty much everything.”

“But I haven’t learned how to make lattes yet?” you asked, a little unsure if Jeno, your co-worker, purposefully left out that detail.

He snapped his fingers, “You’re right! Thanks for reminding me.”

“No problem…” you trailed off. He most likely didn’t hear your response, having already focused his attention on someone behind you.

“Mark!” he called out.

The aforementioned barista was currently struggling to tie his apron around his back. He didn’t waste any more time on the task and quickly waved goodbye to a customer before promptly picking up the empty cup left behind. When he made his way over to the counter, he smiled at jeno, “Hey man!” he then turned to you, “and hello newbie.”

You smiled at the bright boy, the curves of his mouth somehow very contagious. Lamely, you waved in return.

“My name is Mark, you can Mark me in your heart,” he greeted.

In return, he was met with silence.

You were standing there with a small smile, trying not to dwell on the fact that you were too tongue tied to utter the word ‘hi’ and chose to wave instead. His greeting, albeit quite cheesy, somehow did implant its way into your heart and you refused to open your mouth in case you were to mutter incoherent remarks. With that in mind, you decided to soak in the features of the beaming barista in front of you; simply for observation and not because you thought he was cute, of course. The dazzle of his smile was loud, glimmering like the sun’s reflection on a lake. Your eyes followed the contour of his face, trailing past the apples of his cheeks and to the starry night sky- wait, correction, to his eyes.

Mark started to awkwardly laugh, “Wow, I- I can’t believe I just said that.”

Jeno cleared his throat, “He makes some killer latte art, so he’ll be the one to teach you.”

It then clicked in your head.

“So you’re the guy that everyone raves about!” you exclaimed.

Mark raises his eyebrows, eyes darting from you to jeno then back to you. He points at himself, “M- me?”

“No, the cup next to you,” you deadpanned.

“Oh…” he frowned, lips pursing slightly.

“No, silly! Of course I’m talking about you,” you laughed.

“Oh,” he chuckled, smile instantly back on his face. The tips of his ears reddened slightly and he turned back to cleaning the cups in the sink. “That’s cool...bro.”

“Yeah, you’re pretty popular. My friends always told me to try your lattes some time. I didn’t realize you worked at Cafe Dream,” you shook your head lightly, “but now, I can see the behind the scenes.”

“Exactly!” Jeno perked up from behind you, “mark, you can show them the ropes of making a latte. I’ll be going now since my shift ended a little bit ago.” Jeno smiled at you, giving you a thumbs up and a ruffle on the head. “Good luck!”

You turned to Mark, surprised to find his eyes already on you. “Alright, are you ready?”

“What’s your favorite latte?”

“Cinnamon dolce latte,” you answered easily.

Mark nodded, checking the cup one last time to make sure it was dry. “Good choice! We’ll be making that today then.”

He had a cute pout on his lips as he scooped tiny bits of espresso. Liveliness swirled in his eyes when he turned to you, mouth moving as he talked about the flat surface that should make an appearance after tampering it. You nodded, not entirely focused on what buttons he was pushing on the machine. Instead, you admired the way his eyebrows slightly furrowed in concentration. He turned to you and you quickly moved your eyes to the brown liquid that no longer dripped from the tubes of the machine.

“First step done!” he excitedly announced. Mark held one large, round mug in his left hand and held the espresso in the other. He swished the drink and transferred the drink into the porcelain mug. “Once that’s done we’ll warm up the milk,” he promptly took the container of milk, “some high-quality milk.”

You watched with a raised brow as his hand moved with each word. “Is it now?” you mused.

He nodded, mouth moving to ramble about how this is the best milk in the business. Mark wasn’t looking at you. His eyes were darting left and right as his heart sped up to be in time with the words that seemed to endlessly flow out of his mouth. He was well aware that he was giving you a ted talk that you didn’t sign up for, but his brain deemed it best to show just how many adjectives he knew to describe milk.

Amusement was etched in your eyes and to help save the poor boy, you put a hand on his shoulder. “This milk is very good, I understand.”

Rather quickly, his mouth lined shut. Mutely he nodded and pointed to a line in the measuring cup. Once he remembered to finally use his words, Mark’s voice cracked. “This-” he cleared his throat, “you’ll measure it up to here.” You fought the urge to laugh as a wide grin stretched across your face. Of course, you weren’t looking to where he was pointing. No, you were basking in the light hue of red that adorned his cheeks.

“Oops,” he muttered, chuckling nervously, “it went over the line a little bit…” Your eyes darted down to the cup when he flickered his gaze to you.

“Relatively there,” you swiftly commented. Heat rose to your face, but you tilted your head at Mark like you weren’t admiring his face a second ago.

Averting his eyes, he muttered a ‘yeah’ in agreement before turning around to the machine located behind him. Take some mental notes; that’s what your brain was advising you to do. And for the most part, you were. You knew that that lever pushed out the steam and that that spout was where the steam flowed out from. You knew that you had to place the spout a certain way or something to incorporate air into the milk...whirlpools were mentioned? Slowly your interest faded and your eyes wandered away to important information that would help you with keeping this job.

If all you were going to do was stare the boy, you should’ve applied for a full-time Mark Lee admirer rather than a part-time barista.

The banging of the cup against the counter caused you to jump out of your thoughts, quite literally. Mark looked at you with round, apologetic eyes, ‘sorry’ sliding between his teeth. His eyebrows rose up a bit, “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

Your heart melted at the concern floating in those round pits of warmth he called his eyes.

“It’s okay,” you waved off, slight embarrassment creeping up your neck. He didn’t say anything, simply just keeping his eyes on you. You moved your eyes to the cup of steamed milk in his hand and gestured towards it, “So, that uhm...the milk. The high-quality milk.”

Mark blinked, “Right, yeah! So it should have this glossy texture to it and if there are any bubbles, just make sure to tap it onto the counter.”

You nodded. Anticipation rose high in your chest as he grabbed the white mug with the espresso resting at the bottom.

“First, tilt the mug to where the espresso is about to come out. It won’t, though,” he reassured, “and then pour a little milk as your base.”

Suddenly, it was really hot in the cafe. Sweat beaded along the line of his hair and he gulped nervously. “Make sure to bring the cup real close,” he instructed, “and I’m not really good at talking while pouring, but I’ll try my best.”

You hummed in acknowledgement and he started to pour.

“Make sure you aim in the center of the cup. Make sure it’s stable.”

Going against his own advice, Mark’s hands started to shake, and he hoped you didn’t notice. He tightened his grip on both the cups. Wait, he didn’t know what he was making! A swan? No, it’s too late for that. A tulip? That doesn’t look like an option. It’ll just be a heart, he decided. He focused back on the cup, panic rising when he realized just how fast the coffee was rising.

In your eyes, you had thought everything was flowing just fine; you didn’t see his shaky hands, you didn't notice the indecisiveness in his eyes, you didn’t detect the nervous tilt in his voice. For once, you were actually focused on the task at hand. Everything happened quite quickly, which was quite the opposite in Mark’s eyes.

He slowly jerked his hand in order to save anything from spilling. Unfortunately, the coffee spilled anyway. It dripped down the rim of the cup, slowly slid down the edge and mocked the tips of his fingers. Though, the sting from the heated liquid was nothing compared to the burn that spread up his neck, passed through his ears and rooted itself in his cheeks.

A wide grin stifled the laugh bubbling in your throat. Embarrassment adorned mark as he shot out apologies like his life depended on it. He went to reach for some napkins, but you placed your hand on his wrist.

“You should go run your hand under cold water,” you suggested, taking the cup from him, “I’ll take care of the drink.”

Sheepishly, he made his way over to the sink. At the same time, you took the napkins he initially reached for and dried the mug. You couldn’t help but chuckle at the blob in the cup; it wasn’t even centered.

Mark walked over to you, hands twisting under a towel, “I’m not usually this messy, I promise.”

“It’s okay,” you giggled, “everyone has their...off days.”

He laughed along with you and nervously rubbed the nape of his neck, “Can you at least tell that it’s a heart.”

You stared hard at the cup.

“Yikes,” he frowned, “that bad?”

“It doesn’t matter,” you excused, “as long as it tastes good, right?”

“I guess,” he shrugged.

You bring the cup up to your lips and, luckily, the drink doesn’t disappoint.

“This is really good!” you praised.

Smiling seemed to come naturally when you were around Mark. How could it not? Especially when his eyes lit up like fireworks during a disney parade.

He stood up straighter, “really?”

“Yeah, it makes up for your quote unquote killer latte art,” you teased.

Mark peered over your shoulder.

“Put it a little closer,” he advised.

You did as he told you, only lowering the cup full of steamed milk slightly. Without hesitation, he wrapped his hands over yours. The palm of his hand was warm, comfortably covering your own.

“It should be about this distance.”

Mutely, you nodded. Precipitation made its welcome on your skin and you stared harder at the cup in front of you. Mark’s fingers slightly tightened as he guided you in tilting the cups. He muttered instructions, but they were muffled against the pounding in your ears.

In a matter of seconds, the design was finished, yet his hand was still on yours.

“We did it,” you smiled, gazing proudly at the heart centered in the cup. You turned to look at mark, “Well, I mean, you were the one doing everything-”

“You held the cup!” he interrupted.

“Yeah, that’s true.”

The two of you stood there, side-by-side, hands still touching, and eyes still staring.

“Do you have a map?” Mark asked.

“Uhm, no,” you laughed, “why?

“Because I got lost in your eyes.”

You stared at him in disbelief, “You didn’t.”

“Oh, but I did.”

From across the cafe, Jaemin paused his task of wiping down a table. He chuckled at the scene and turned to Jeno who was fixing the books in the corner library that they recently added.

“Psst!”

Jeno dusted off a book.

“Psst!” Jaemin repeated, a little louder this time.

He placed the book back on the shelf.

“Jeno!” Jaemin drawed out in an annoyed tone.

Jeno jumped. “What?”

Jaemin rolled his eyes and walked over to the boy. He then nodded towards you and Mark, still standing in close proximity to each other. The light that in your eyes were as bright as Mark’s, and it was comparable to the sun setting in the horizon.

“Are we sure they’re not dating?” Jeno sighed.

Before Jaemin could answer, a girl walked into the store. The two boys shared a look, smiles wide as the girl stepped closer to the cashier.

Once she stood at the counter, she pushed up her sunglasses. “You guys are a really cute couple!” she commented with a grin.

Jaemin snorted while Jeno held in his laugh when you and Mark jumped away from each other. In the process, you managed to successfully spill the latte on your shirt. Mark’s eyes widened and he quickly grabbed some tissues. He dabbed, once, twice, three times before he stopped.

At the same time, Jeno and Jaemin bursted out laughing. Mark sputtered apologies to you, practically throwing napkins in your direction before turning to the customer waiting at the counter.

With a flushed face, Mark opened his mouth to explain that the two of you were not dating. However, the only thing that came out of his mouth was, “Boss?”

Your eyes widened. You peeked over at said ‘boss’ and realized that she was indeed the lady who hired you, also known as, the owner of Cafe Dream.

Kara tsked. “Mark, it’s okay to spend time with your significant other, just don’t act all lovey-dovey during your shift.”

“Boss we’re not-”

“Surprise me with a latte Mark,” she instructed, “I’d like to request a swan please.”

“Yes ma’am,” he sighed.

Jeno and Jaemin shook their heads as small laughs continued to fall out of their mouths. Mark glared at them from the counter to which they responded with a mock of the previous position that you and him were in.

Jaemin leaned into Jeno's arms, holding the empty coffee mug in his hand and looked up at Jeno dramatically. “Oh handsome one, do you have a map?” he exaggerated.

“I do wish I did, but, as the fates have it, I do not,” Jeno solemnly replied, head bowed and hands also holding the coffee mug in Jaemin’s hands.

Jaemin turned to Mark with a wide grin, “Ah what a shame! It seems that I’ll just forever be lost in your eyes.”

Mark pursed his lips and decided to ignore his obnoxious friends.

The following week was filled with awkwardness.

You and Mark would take turns glancing at one another, only for the both of you to turn at the same time before quickly looking away. You would share small ‘hellos’ and ‘goodbyes’ when the two of you passed each other. Red faces and shy apologies always made an appearance when some sort of physical contact was ever made.

“Is there a reason why you’re avoiding him?” Jaemin asked you one day when you insisted that you needed help with creating a seven stacked tulip.

“I’m not avoiding him,” you shrugged.

“Really?” he asked, “so you wouldn’t mind if I called him over?”

“Sure,” you replied nonchalantly.

“Okay, hey Ma-”

“I’m just kidding!” you yelped, glaring at Jaemin.

“Thought so,” he stated smugly.

You rolled your eyes at him, “whatever.”

“So, back to the original question.”

You frowned at the misshapen tulip in your mug, “Because…”

Jaemin gave you an unimpressed look, “Do you not like him?”

“What? No!”

He raised his brows and glanced at the customers in the cafe who turned their head at the commotion. “That’s a very strong no.”

You apologized with a quick bow before turning to Jaemin. “Isn’t it obvious I like him?”

Jaemin snorted, “Yeah, you practically have heart eyes everytime you look at him.”

“Which is exactly why I’m avoiding him.”

He was now confused. “I don’t get it.”

“I’m sure that last week he understood that I liked him and he’s been awkward around me since; therefore, I can conclude that he doesn’t like me back,” you explained, leaving behind a puzzled jaemin to process your words while you served a customer your messed up tulip.

When you walked back to the still bewildered Jaemin, he asked, “And did you ask him?”

“Ask him what?”

“If he knew you liked him?”

You laughed, “What are you crazy? Of course I didn’t!”

“So how do you know that he’s avoiding you because he doesn’t like you back?”

“Why else would he be avoiding me, Jaem?”

“Because he likes you and thinks that you don’t like him back,” he answered with a gleaming smile.

You gave him a ‘really?’ look.

He shrugged, “Miscommunication happens all the time.”

You shook your head, “I’m sure this is properly communicated to me; and the message is that I ruined my friendship with Mark.”

“Guess we’ll have to turn to the storage room,” Jaemin sighed, sending an exasperated look to Jeno.

The storage room.

It’s a nice, small space that can comfortably fit, at max, two people. It was filled with, as you might expect, extra ingredients and supplies needed to run the cafe. There was a small light switch, hidden behind the box of brown sugar on the third shelf located in the back of the closet. Usually, you would just leave the door of the room propped open instead of delving in deep to turn on the light – it was easier for you.

You frowned and sighed for the nth time. Jaemin had told you that the ingredients for his rice milk latte were gathered in a blue bag hidden in the back shelf. ‘Around the same area as the light switched,’ he referenced. But you just couldn’t find it.

Suddenly, you heard the door close.

“Very funny Jaemin,” you muttered, standing up and turning around to open back up the door.

However, you ran into something, or rather, someone.

You screamed and jumped back. You continued moving away from the unknown entity in the closet. Your hand frantically pushed the ingredients off the back shelf to find the light switch.

“Y/n.”

You paused.

“Y/n, calm down. It’s just me.”

You heard footsteps coming closer to you. “Don’t move!”

The steps paused. You resumed trailing your hand against the wall and finally found the light switch. Upon flicking it on, you saw that the guy was not lying to you; it really was Mark.

“Oh thank the heavens up above,” you whispered, relief washing over you. Without a second thought, you rushed forward and wrapped your arms tightly around his torso. Mark, on the other hand, stood there in shock. When you realized what you were doing, you quickly let go.

You cleared your throat, “Sorry.”

He lightly chuckled, “No, you’re fine.”

Crickets.

“So, uhm, we should probably get back to work, huh?” you suggested.

“Yeah! Of- of course,” Mark smiled, turning around to open the door. He chuckled nervously, continuing to twist the door knob.

“It’s not opening, is it?” you asked.

“No.”

You cursed Jaemin under your breath. “We’re locked in here,” you stated.

“Yep.”

Clicking your tongue, you made your way over to the door and started pounding on it. “Jaemin, open the door!”

No answer.

“I know you can hear me!” you shouted, fist against the wood never seizing.

Still no answer.

Just as you were about to shout again, Mark spoke. “I’m sorry.”

“That you scared me? It’s fine, I should’ve turned on the lights right away,” you waved off.

“No, I’m sorry that I’ve been avoiding you.”

You stood there, limbs unmoving and back faced towards him.

“I just- we- you-” Mark sighed, “I really like you. Like, like-like you. Like more than a friend.”

If you weren’t bewildered by his confession, you would’ve teased him about the amount of times he used the word like. You turned around and pointed an accusatory finger at him, “Did Jaemin tell you to say that?”

He furrowed his brows, “Wha- no!”

You leaned back with squinted eyes and crossed arms, “was it jeno?

“It...it wasn’t Jeno either,” he answered, scratching the nape of his neck.

“Mark, if you’re messing with me-“

“Why would I do that?” he asked, voice soft, “why would I confess something that could potentially destroy our friendship?” Mark shook his head, “I understand that you don’t feel the same way, but-“

“Woah woah woah,” you interrupted, “I never said I didn’t like you back.”

He tilted his head, mouth opening before shutting close.

“I’m just...suspicious of your truth,” you squint.

Mark laughs. His shoulders shake, his feet shuffle, his hands clap and the joyous sound propels out from his wide opened mouth. He slightly scrunches his nose in a lovable manner, eyes crescents as he starts to calm down.

You watched in admiration and, also, concern.

He starts to walk towards you, top row of his teeth still shone bright as the corners of his mouth curved upwards. You don’t pull away when he takes your hands in his. Softly, his calloused fingers slot themselves in between your own.

“I’m so relieved!” he exclaimed, head thrown back.

“Are you just going to leave me in confusion or…” you trailed off. Disappointment swirled in your stomach when he let go of one of your hands, but it turned into butterflies when he cupped your face.

“I can reassure you that I like you and it was my decision to confess. No Jeno, no Jaemin, no one told me to say anything,” he paused, “unless… you consider my heart as someone.”

You chuckled.

“Then I guess you could say that my heart told me to tell you that you-”

“Mark, I get it.”

He smiled, “Right. Rambling again, huh? I seem to do that a lot, but mostly around you. During my freshman year when I was presenting-”

You gave him a look.

He cleared his throat, “So, do you like me?”

“Do I-” you stared at him, flabbergasted. You sniffled lowly and turned you head, hoping you looked like you were gazing off cooly in the distance. With a nonchalant shrug, you mimicked the way Mark favored the word ‘like.’

“Yeah. I like you like a little bit, you know, like nothing major.”

“I’m just going to ignore the fact that you attacked me for no reason.”

“Do like what you want, it’s like whatever, you know,” you grinned teasingly.

He shot you a playfully disappointed look. “Is it too late to take back the fact that I like you?”

“Well, it wouldn’t be fair if you marked yourself in my heart and then just decided to leave.”

“Oh my- you still remember that?” he whined.

“My name is Mark, you can Mark me in your heart,” you winked.

He shook his head, “Gross.”

“Such a way with words,” you teased, “so poetic. Shakespeare is shaking.”

More breathy laughs were exchanged between the two of you before silence enveloped the room. His hand was still comforting your face and your stomach was still filled with butterflies. You felt like your heart would leap out of your chest when he started to lean in; his wide, doe eyes slowly closing shut. You mirrored his actions and started to lean in too.

“Why is the door locked?” someone asked from outside.

The both of you jolted forward at the noise, foreheads bumping roughly. With a wince, you turned towards the intruder.

Jeno’s eyes widened and he muttered a quick apology before closing the door. It didn’t shut, however, because he pushed it back open and grinned at the doorway.

“Nice!” he nodded, “you guys made up-”

Anything else he was about to say was cut off by you.

“Go Mark, do it!” you shouted, arms clinging around Jeno in hopes to hold him down.

Mark was quick to move and started to noogie Jeno.

“Ow, ow, ow! Hey, I’m not the one who locked the door, alright? Jaemin was the mastermind behind all of this!” Jeno tried to explain.

“But you still pushed me in the room!” Mark frowned, stopping his poor revenge on the boy.

You let go of the victim and scanned the cafe.

Many of the customers were staring at the fiasco in amusement; however, there was one specific person who looked annoyed. You didn’t pay that person any mind, focusing on the barista untying his apron.

“Would you look at the time?” Jaemin nervously laughed, “it’s my break!”

He gently placed his untied apron on the counter by the register and smiled at you, “Gotta blast!”

And you would’ve chased after the blue haired boy who ran out of the cafe, but that one annoyed customer approached the counter.

“You know, I keep telling myself ‘I hired them for a reason,’ so please,” Kara said carefully, “prove me right.”

She sternly squinted at you, then to Mark, and lastly, to Jeno.

“What about Jaemin-” Mark started.

“Should you really be worried about him right now?”

“No boss.”

Kara nodded and smiled sweetly at the three of you. “Are drinks on the house?”

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