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astudyincontrasts · 2 years

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The Baron’s Daughter

Regency!Silco x Fem!Reader NSFW

A very belated birthday gift for the sweetest, most patient @thesaltybuns ! Thank you for being such a darling, special part of this fandom 🖤 Here’s a little three part regency AU fic to celebrate you and all your beautiful art. I’ll be dropping a chapter a day for the next three days. Cameo appearances by Sevika and Singed, and some familiar henchmen too.

Tags: No Y/N, regency themes, arranged marriage, canon typical violence, blood, illness, virgin reader, longing, slight angst, smutty funtimes in later chapter sshhh

Part 1/Part 2/Part 3

Addendum 1

You’d never laid eyes on Silco until your wedding.

You’d hoped, entertained the notion for weeks after your father had broke the news of the marriage arrangement to you, that the man might come calling to meet you, or at least to set eyes upon his bride to be. At first you’d wishfully thought perhaps there might be a bit of wooing. Flowers, maybe, shy conversation. The days passed and the silly romance of that childish idea faded into a more sober hope that maybe you’d at least get a staid parlor introduction over tea.

The date of the wedding had crept closer and closer and soon you found yourself simply hoping perhaps he might swing by after a hunt to see your father and perchance you’d catch him briefly.

More days, more nothing.

Not a letter, not a single bridal gift. Nothing.

The first time you clapped eyes on him was the walk up to the altar on your father’s arm. Silco stood impassively up beside the minister, waiting, sharp profile aloof and set of his thin mouth severe. He did not turn to watch you walk toward him, and indeed, the dark patch covering his left eye prevented any manner of peripheral observation of your slow procession toward him. But instead of turning toward you, he simply pivoted to face the minister. Hands laced behind his back unmoving save for a slight, impatient tick of fore and middle gloved fingers in counter time to the bridal march the organ played.

He wordlessly accepted your hand when your father offered it, and let it drop the second custom no longer demanded it be held aloft.

Your father was a wealthy land baron with three sons, and you the only daughter and youngest. You’d known quite well for most of your life that your marriage would not be a thing of heady romance, but rather a ploy to build the family name, or coffers - or both. Silco was of no name at all, an industrialist, or so you’d heard, with wealth condensing so rapidly under his hand that there were rumors against its legitimacy and origins. Rumors of his origins too, but those you’d learned less about.

He repeated the vows quietly, did not spare you a glance as you watched the mismatched halves of his face curiously. Badly scarred across nearly the whole left side of his face, yet not unhandsome. The eye that refused to look at you was a soft teal, tired in its set, or else exceptionally disinterested, but not unintelligent. No, everything about the man beside you plighting his troth spoke of a resounding and almost menacing level of clever intelligence and hunger.

Far too nervous repeating your own vows back to him, eyes upon the minister as you followed his lead, to sneak another glance at Silco and see if he even deigned to watch you.

You held your own hand up yourself for his ring, no cradling touch under your palm, no hand to hold yours after the gold band slid over your knuckle.

The kiss he offered you upon the steps of the church after the ceremony was a dryly perfunctory peck on the cheek through your veil that he’d never sought to lift.

The touch of it burned softly on your skin as you sat alone during the wedding breakfast, your new bridegroom too busy talking business with other men in attendance, your father now included, to be seated at the head table beside you for a first meal together.

The coach ride back to his home was one of solitude as well. He’d not even helped you into the carriage, leaving it to your lady mother and father to see you up into the carriage and off to your new life with kisses and smiles and the unsubtle subtlety of whispered well wishes for the night to come. Silco meanwhile, had mounted his horse, preferring to ride rather than be confined to the boredom of a carriage with a new bride he’d not said one word to directly, and seemed impatient to be away, as if the whole day had been little more than a tiresome strain on his precious time.

Still, you caught his eye through the window as the carriage door closed and swore there was a flash of something there in that cool oceanic gaze that was not calculating, nor boredly irritated. No, instead it felt almost pitying? Or apologetic. It was there and gone too fast to track as he turned and wheeled his horse to the road with spurs dug in.

Mr. Silco’s holdings were not the same as your father’s large estate, though the house was no mean thing. It lay in the city though, not on a large land holding. And not in a particularly fine part of town… old, though it was no slum, simply one of those parts of town that had fallen to disrepair over the years and was now only slowly becoming reclaimed. The house was a large manor, oddly arranged on the point of a triangular city block so that its main doors sat directly on the point and the house was pressed on both sides by streets as it expanded outward, promising a strange array of rooms and architecture.

The household staff proved to be as odd as the home itself. A sinister lot; the valets all lumberingly massive brutes or else unhealthily skinny and slovenly looking wraiths, with no discernable butler among them. No ladies maid for you, though there were a few other women on the staff, looking just as rough and roguish as the men, as if they’d all found their way in from the lanes and never raised to service.

You were shown in by one of their lot and left in the hallway to watch your luggage carried inside, ignored as thoroughly as if you were one of the trunks or else a piece of new furniture no one quite knew where to place yet. Standing there, gloves in your hands, the kidskin wringing in slow tightening twists between nervous fingers, you waited, and let attention wander to the house itself.

Large, dark, but not unwelcoming. Rich, deep woods and wine-drenched colored fabrics interspersed with faded jeweltones that lent the candlelight a deeper warmth. The whole place had an air of slight elderly shabbiness to it, most recently plastered over with the wealth and slightly ostentatious air of rich trappings. The parquet floor was worn, varnish faded along the paths taken by many feet. High above you a soot darkened mural splayed across the foyer ceiling and beckoned back into the great halls.

You followed it, neck craning, stepping blindly out of the way of the staff as they ignored your presence. Let the artwork lead you on. The collections on the walls were an odd assortment, clearly acquired from a variety of estates and former owners, not a single portrait bearing any familial relation to your new husband.

One by one you explored the rooms; parlors and sitting rooms, a large formal dining room and a largely vacant and disused music room. A library conjoined with a comfortable study, and further back doubtless there were the kitchens and staff rooms. A billiard and games room jutted off the study, looking very well and frequently used indeed. The only room downstairs save for the dining room that had a fire lit.

He found you there, as you placed a hand upon one of the white ivory balls upon the billiard table and rolled it gingerly from side to side.

“Apologies for keeping you waiting.”

The sound of his voice made you jump, had you spinning to find him standing in the doorway, divested of his hat, gloves and overcoat from the ride. Clearly he’d not been in such a hurry to find you that he hadn’t found time to make himself comfortable. His smile was thin, taut, nothing of mirth living in the shape of it.

Silhouetted in the doorframe in shirtsleeves and waistcoat he cut a strikingly lean figure. Sharp set of shoulders and posture one of petulant authority, waist and hips narrow and legs long. He was a beautiful, sharp-edged slice of a man, and your words stuck in your throat as his hand slid from where it had rested upon the outside of the doorframe as he stepped inside.

You’d later come to learn that pace of his, the unhurried luxuriant roll of it, a stalking manner of walk that purred quiet power and intent.

“I see you’ve found your way around.” Quiet pitched velvet gravel in his tone that would have been flat save for the elegance with which he spoke and the slight touches of dark humor every now and again that caught his inflection.

“I’m sorry, I was tired of waiting and in the way.”

“Don’t be. This is your home now, I suppose.” He drew the ivory ball you’d lifted your hand from toward himself and spun it off across the table to clack lightly into the gathering of red balls at the far corner of the green felt. “You’re free to go where you like, though I ask you stay out of my office on the second floor. All the bedrooms are up there as well, I expect you’ll want to rest, if you’d like me to show you.”

Not tired in the least, but it seemed the agreeable thing to do, not to mention it felt as if you might have to find your own way to your new bedroom later if you declined the offer.

“Yes, please.”

He hummed something of approval and turned, let you follow him out of the room and back toward the hallways.

“Have you lived here long?” You asked, trailing in his wake.

“Not very. It belonged to an… an old acquaintance of mine previously, though.”

“I see.” You very much did not see. “Why did he decide to leave?”

“He died.” The reply was cold, matter-of-fact, and laced with something darker beneath its chill civility.

“Oh. I’m sorry.”

“I’m not.”

That got you to hold your tongue, unsure what to think, and rather too alarmed to pry further. Silco led you up the stairs, taking a candelabra from one of the waiting servants to climb up into the stretching shadows as the late afternoon began its slide into evening. He pointed out his office as you passed it, left many of the other rooms unexplained, and showed you straight to the bedroom, opening the door for you and stepping aside. The trunks had been brought up but left unpacked, and a paltry fire was lit in the small fireplace with a singular candle left beside the bed. The room was well appointed, comfortable and large but held the air of a room only recently divested of dust and not very thoroughly at that, air stale.

Silco set the candelabra down upon the bureau just inside the door.

“Dinner is served at eight. You may join me, if you like.”

It was such an odd thing to say. Why wouldn’t you join your husband to dine on your wedding night, or any other night? You paused within, beside your luggage, and turned to stare questioningly at him. He seemed to take no note of the strangeness of his offer, continuing.

“Breakfast will be brought up to you in the mornings, lunch and tea are your own affair. Speak with the servants if you need anything otherwise. We keep late hours in this house, but none of that should disturb or concern you.”

“Did you wan-”

“You’ve settling in to do.” His already fleeting attention upon you slid to your things as he cut you off in your attempted offer that he stay and you get to know each other a little. “I’ll leave you to it.”

The door shut behind him with a soft click of finality that brooked no argument, leaving you alone in the gathering dark.

Eight o’clock was ages away, and it gave you time to both rest and unpack the majority of your things, to finish airing out the room with open windows and arrange things how you liked. In the end you were grateful to do it yourself since no other distractions existed to numb your growing unease and nervousness. Not to mention it did make you feel a bit more at home; to be left to make the space what you wished rather than beholden to the stiff formality of a ladies maid to tut her tongue and sigh as you bade her move things about or fix them.

By the time the little clock on the mantle had chimed eight you were rested, had re-dressed from the road for dinner, and were eager to see him again, to finally share a meal. You thought to find him already waiting in the dining room, but instead the space was empty. Room lit and table laid, food upon it. You were grateful the place settings were not at an informal opposite ends of the table but rather beside one another. His at the head and yours at his right hand.

It was closer than customary for two dining alone, but if he wished to have you in a seat where he could more easily see you it felt like an improvement over all the little ways you’d gone overlooked recently. You waited by your chair, waited long enough you were beginning to worry he didn’t actually plan to join you.

It was a quarter after until he strolled in, back in a smartly brushed coat, no longer the informality of shirtsleeves. He seemed surprised to find you standing there, waiting, but came to pull out your chair for you.

“You could have begun without me.” He pushed the chair carefully beneath you before assuming his own seat, reproach mild.

“I didn’t like to be rude, sir.” You replied quietly, holding forth your wine glass that he might fill it after his own.

He smiled thinly and poured the lovely rich claret nearly to the brim of your cup. Far too much. You’d have a headache later if you weren’t careful.

“Silco.” He corrected you, even if your deference seemed to please him, “We rarely stand on precedent in this house. I daresay you’ll find things a touch more relaxed around here than what you might be used to.”

You repressed the urge to remark that you already had found that to be the case and instead helped yourself to the nearest plate before offering it to him.

“I’m sure I’ll be very comfortable here.” You attempted, hollow politeness a bastion you’d been raised and trained to so thoroughly it was now second nature.

Silco breathed a dry, near silent little laugh as he carved the slice of cold ham on his plate into bite sized pieces, the fine dark brow over his teal eye quirking upward a touch.

“If you say so. The best I can offer is that no one here will bother you.”

You gazed at him in silent confusion. Half the things he said seemed to have a meaning only known unto him, and the other other half seemed to intimate some manner of sinister underpinning he had no intention of elaborating on. No one will bother you? Why should anyone bother you in your own home?

The meaning became a touch clearer later, after the remainder of the dinner had passed in an ever-increasing weight of silence, and you’d gone up to ready for bed after he excused himself to the study for a smoke and brandy. After you’d dressed yourself for your wedding night in the most comely nightgown you owned; a nearly sheer confection of a thing that your mother had gifted you, no doubt eager that you might get to the business of making her grandbabies and no delay. After you’d blown out a few candles to leave merely a romantically gloomy glow in the room, and sat perched upon the bench at the foot of the bed nervously awaiting him. After those nerves hit their crescendo and began the slow slide toward first concern and then down into disappointment as the hours ticked by, and disappointment subsided into exhaustion when you finally climbed into bed alone and blew out the guttering last stub of a candle.

No one will bother you. Not even your husband. Not even on your wedding night.

It felt mortifying the next morning, to lie there alone and pretend to be asleep as one of the household lit the fireplace, and later brought your breakfast tray. Unable to even look the servants in the face, a bride gone unwanted.

By the time you rose, had some tea and toast and dressed, you’d talked yourself into at least three excuses for why he hadn’t joined you, and lined up a few more in the wings for good measure. Perhaps he’d been tired, perhaps all the ever important business of his had pulled him away, perhaps he’d simply thought you deserved a better rest after a long day and a big change of circumstance.

So many excellent little reasons to hand to explain away his disinterest in you. And each of them fell away one by one with every subsequent night you were left to climb into bed alone after sharing a near silent supper with Silco.

You tried to uphold conversation on your end, and to his slim credit he was never dismissive or rude to your attempts. You simply struggled to meet him on common ground, as the whole of his focus and every day seemed to be swallowed by his work, which you knew precious little of. Asking after it did nothing to help, as that one topic he did refuse to discuss with you, gently but firmly shutting down any inquiry more prying than how his day had gone. He did not seem the kind of man to speak frivolity to and you were well out of gossip with not a single scrap of mail from any family or acquaintance for the first full week. And so after a few days of faltering attempts you both fell into a measured silence broken only occasionally by polite demands.

And he was always polite with you.

For all his assurance that first night that his house stood on no grounds of formality he never came to dinner in a state of undress, never seemed unsober, always pulled out your chair and served you before himself, made sure your cup was full and begged your pardon if he had to leave before you had finished. He never swore, even on days when his mood seemed black as a thundercloud and you hardly dared speak to him for the severity of his expression.

He never laid a hand upon you either. Not in anger, nor in affection.

And so with nothing else to do, you settled into learning of him, slowly. Gathered scraps of his story to yourself like sifting tiny flecks of gold from the silt of a riverbed. Tales of his past that you could glean from the servants, the fact he had a ward you had yet to meet, a young girl as inherited, it seemed, as the house you lived in, from that late acquaintance of his. Rumors of what he did for the very lucrative living he made abound, and the sound of them scared you off chasing down the truth too hard.

He became enigma; puzzling, frustrating center of your little world.

And his refusal to share your bed the most frustrating thing of all.

You supposed you ought to be grateful, that perhaps any young woman ought to be grateful not to be put upon to share herself with someone who by all reason was a total stranger… but. But you wanted him. In those silent hours every night before sleep took you, you’d come to realize quite profoundly how badly you really did want him, and not just in the manner of fulfilling some marital piety but because of the way the sound of his voice made your skin warm, because of how the shape of him and the way he moved pleased you so deeply to watch. How gazing at his face over the dinner table made your fingertips burn soft fire at the desire to touch, to trace his profile and pull his collar open, to run along the sharp thin shelf of his lower lip.

More than all this the yearning to be touched trumped all.

Those elegant, fastidious hands of his and their constant, easy motions an almost embarrassingly obvious distraction of yours, feeding the coals of quiet fantasies you would have been smart not to entertain. Yet you could not help yourself, and those lonesome nights began to turn from disappointment to frustration as surely as the green on summer leaves rioted into fall color.

By the third week you’d begun to resort to little wiles to see if you could not entice his affections. You laced the tops of your corsets tighter, chose dresses with the lowest possible cut of neckline so that you were all but spilling from them in generous offer. With nothing but time on your hands you could dote upon your appearance, every curl perfectly coiled, every tendril of hair laid just so in softness against your skin where it fell artfully from the piled intricacy of whatever style you could manage without the aid of a ladies maid. Scent chosen carefully, cheeks pinched to a soft flush, lips made pretty and plush with a softening beeswax balm, every little detail that could possibly catch his eye put on full display each evening.

And beyond the superficial, you had taken to exploring the house more, haunting its hallways, refusing to be relegated to just your bedroom, the ladies parlor, and the dining room on evenings.

One night, when you could not take the silence of your room another second, you had shrugged on a shawl and padded out of your room with a candle, determined to ransack the library for some form of diverting literature, perhaps even find a book worth discussing with Silco over your singular shared meal.

The rest of the house was dark and silent in the late hour, even the light from under the door of his forbidden office was out. The worn parquet and elderly oriental carpeting felt delicious under bare feet in a riot of sensation, and the chill of the night was just enough to feel soothing but not biting. Such a surprise then, to find a few candles already lit in the study, and just off of it, the billiard room a spill of bright light.

Curious, you set your candle down on the desk of the study and wandered toward the games room to find Silco within alone, bent over the billiard table with a cue in hand, lining up a shot. A glass of whiskey sat upon one edge of the table and a freshly lit cigar lay in an ashtray along the side table, smoke rising like heavy incense in a lazy, wavering line that plumed outward at its zenith.

He glanced up in surprise as you darkened the doorway and you, in turn, froze.

That black eyepatch of his was off.

You’d imagined all manner of thing beneath it in the few weeks you’d been here; a gaping dark socket, a milky white dead eye, perhaps nothing but a stretch of skin where the lid had been sewn shut… even perhaps just a normal eye incapable of sight and so ever distractingly off center or lolling wildly that he kept covered in an effort to maintain his precious air of irreproachable dignity.

Never in all your wildest imaginings had you thought to encounter the lidless, black sclera orb that gazed back at you with its hot glowing coal of an iris. It stared through you unblinking, watching your mouth part open and shock rush your features in spite of yourself.

Silco straightened, and almost immediately dug a hand deep into one pocket of his breeches for the eyepatch he’d removed.

“No. No, please.” You rushed a step or two in, the fraughtness of his desire to cover himself upsetting.

He paused and turned the contrast of cool teal and hot orange-red back upon you distrustfully.

“Please don’t.” Your tone softened from that initial pleading, and he slid his hand from his pocket empty.

“If you insist.” It was not pitiable, his tone, nor terribly harsh. Simply that cold, slightly clench-jawed habitual tenor.

Lips rolled inward as you fought to settle attention either upon him or the billiard table, unable to pick a focus. He was back in shirtsleeves, cravat gone this time and high, stiff collar open to reveal the lean column of his throat, sleeves rolled to just below his elbow, forearms corded muscle and sinew. He was a terrible beauty, made more terrible by that demonic half gaze that did nothing to ruin the attractive lines of his scarred face.

“Playing alone?” You asked, timidly grasping at conversational straws.

“Practice.” He explained flatly, “Makes perfect, or so they say.”

The smile you offered him was gentle in its curve as you turned to step to the cue rack, and selected one carefully to match your height and reach. His unscarred brow quirked upward.

“Care for an actual game?” You asked, examining the tip of the cue to avoid his quizzical and slightly scoffing gaze.

“You play?” Not bothering to keep the slight hint of incredulity from his voice, he set the table with its three balls back to start position and watched you grin.

“I’ve three elder brothers, Mr. Silco. If they desired to play doubles I was often called upon to fill the fourth. They regretted teaching me, in the end. Didn’t much like being showed up in a game ladies aren’t supposed to play.”

That earned you the first honest little laugh from him you’d ever had and it bubbled up against the bottom of your heart with delighted pride.

“Then by all means.” He stepped back and gestured to the table in a slight sweep of those long fingers you found so entrancing, “Ladies first.”

It was a fine game. He spared you not at all, pulling no shots, and you paid him the same respect, even if you could feel the vacillation between his delight and frustration as you steadily pulled ahead in points. Won match after match until he at last admitted defeat, tossing his cue upon the table in exasperation, but ultimately awarded you a polite quiet applause as well.

Glowing with pride, you reached into the corner pocket to retrieve your last shot, only to still as his fingers closed warmly over your wrist above where you hand lay buried in the latticed leather pocket of the table. A glance upward found him terribly close before you, yet you could not tear attention away from his touch, from the soft circle of a stroke his thumb made absently on the tender skin of your inner wrist.

That slow building ache that had begun weeks ago doubled in size and weight within, stealing strength from knees and breath from your throat.

You’d been conscious of him throughout the game, of his occasional nearness, of how he’d bent over your lean once, to judge a shot you were lining up for himself, of his gaze from across the table as your bend at the waist no doubt offered a lovely view down the neckline of your nightgown. You’d be lying if you said you hadn’t watched him in the same manner as he took his shots. But this, this was wonderfully and intentionally close, and that blessed contact sparking warm fire that tingled up your arm and tickled in the crook of your elbow.

“To the victor goes the spoils.” He murmured quietly, and for a breathless second you’d thought perhaps you might’ve won the favor of a kiss. Face tilted upward and you nearly committed the embarrassment of offering a slight pursing of lips… when his hand left the grip of your wrist to dig into the hip pocket of his waistcoat and set two guineas upon the green felt.

Your incredulous gaze ticked from the coins to his countenance and back again as your hand withdrew from the corner pocket, the ball you had been retrieving well forgotten.

“I… I don’t want your money.” Voice touched by a bit more of your offense than you’d meant to show. It ruined your sweetness and you berated yourself for it even as you wrestled with his actions.

Silco, for his part, looked only mildly displeased, but not offended.

“Whyever not?”

Unable to help the way your brows furrowed in consternation as you looked up at him, you struggled with your composure, heat flooding your face far too obviously. So easy to fluster, so quick to temper, a foible you’d managed to keep well hidden with practice and hard lessons at the hands of your governesses, but unbreakable in the end.

“It was enough to play for the pleasure of your company. Sir.” Eyes ticked between his mismatched ones trained down upon you as something suspiciously close to surprise touched the usual stone of his expression. “If you had won, what would I have had to offer you?”

“What indeed.” He murmured after half a beat, turning your pink flush red, “I’m sure we could have come to an equitable arrangement.”

You were just opening your mouth as your brain struggled mightily with the notion he might have been keen to take you to bed had you just let him win, a sinking feeling that perhaps you’d wounded his pride and tricked yourself out of the very thing you longed for, with your inability to play anything but fair, when all of a sudden he cut the knees right out from under you.

“Perhaps a week in which you did not pester me for details of my work, or that I did not get reports of you bribing the servants for stories of my past?”

No sooner had he warmed your heart than he saw fit to punch it straight from your chest.

The pool cue in your hand slammed against the felted flagstone table with a resounding crack of a whip. It only made him smile, the villain.

“Why take a wife if all you desired was to be left alone?”

The words were out of your mouth before you could stop them, hot and angry as that horrible eye of his.

Silco’s smile turned cruel, the frequently hidden teeth of his showing slightly, too large for the rest of his finer, more aquiline features, and the front pair chipped as if he’d been beaten badly in a brawl at some point in his past.

“Because neither my happiness nor your own came into the question of the union, my dear. Only your father’s gain. Not that I lost anything in the bargain. Far from it. What's a quiet meal at the end of the day weighted against one more business partner tied to my plans?”

You were breathing hard, world a sickly tilt and heart hammering in your ears as he pressed the tips of fingers to the softness under your chin to keep your face full upon himself mercilessly. And something about the way your anger melted into an undeniable ache of mourning at the sudden cold wash of the reality he sluiced over you seemed to give him pause. You could feel the sting of tears welling against your lower lashes, and the bite of nails within the clench of fists trembling at your sides. No need to try to wrench your face from the plinth of his fingers, the press of them eased and dropped on their own as his pleasure in hurting you faltered.

It was enough of an out to allow you to spin and take to your heels.

He caught you at your bedroom door, startled you by stopping your shove of it closed behind yourself, unaware he was even on your tail, let alone so close behind, far too lost in your own misery and whirling thoughts to have heard him behind you.

“Wait.” It was sharper than anything he’d ever said to you, the closest he’d come to a demand, and instead of pushing the door spitefully against him as was your first inclination, you paused, stopped, and released the pressure on your side of the door, stepping back as you fought tears valiantly, unwilling to give him any satisfaction in seeing you cry.

Far from looking hungry to cause you more harm, he seemed almost contrite, uncomfortable in what he’d done and even moreso in what was so clearly a role he was unfamiliar with as penitent. Your shawl that you’d forgotten in your rush to leave the billiard room was clenched in his hand. He hesitated awkwardly in its offer to you and you couldn’t find it within yourself to take pity upon him and relieve him of that burden, wrapping arms around yourself as you took another step away.

His arm dropped at your failure to reciprocate and accept the scrap of clothing back, his gaze upon you unreadable, but touched at its very edges with perhaps the closest a cold hearted creature such as himself could come to regret. He opened the shawl between both hands and stepped forward, draped it over your lifted and bunched shoulders and let it wrap warmly around you, hands smoothing its fabric over your upper arms in a touch that had one of the tears clinging to your lower lids shiver and drip free, before the contact fell away, hands tucked safely behind his back once more.

“Why were you downstairs so late tonight?” He asked quietly, eyes carefully avoiding the misery of your expression as they ticked up and down the rest of you, “In such a pretty little nightgown.”

The compliment shocked you after his cruelty, and had you wondering if he wasn’t baiting you into another row, or perhaps just offering you a backhanded nicety to condescend. You hated having to second guess the singular compliment he’d ever offered you. Hated where the promise of the night had led. You were suddenly very tired, tired straight down to the bone with dashed hopes and a bleak future stretched long and terrifying before you.

“I just wanted to find a book to read.” You admitted weakly, voice failing you with a soft crack. Unable to lift eyes from the floor between your bare toes and his boots, you simply closed them wearily. “Something to read and share with you.”

He didn’t make a perceptible sound, but the air in the room shifted. A moment later you heard his boots on the floor and opened eyes to find him disappearing out the open door. Shoulders slumped as you buried your face in your hands, fighting the ragged lump of a sob lodged in your chest, only to hear him clear his throat a moment later and look up to find him back, a book held out between you both.

“This has long been a favorite of mine. If it's reading you want, there’s a better selection on my office shelves than the ones downstairs. Simply ask.”

You reached out and took the novel from him, eyes straying from its worn and well loved cover to his face. For a second he looked as if he would say more, but ultimately turned away.

“Stay?”

You don’t know why you asked it, why you kept on wanting someone so hateful to keep your company, but you did. In spite of all of it, you did. So badly.

“I think I’ve imposed enough on your good graces for the evening.” He refused, but gently, and lingering in your doorway with his back turned, paused and fished those two guineas out of his pocket once more to lay them on the dresser.

The breath you drew at the return of the spiteful little coins was shivering.

“I don’t want your prize.”

He hummed a little noncommittal rebuttal of a noise, tinged with mirthless humor.

“Take it anyhow.”

He shut the door behind himself, leaving you clinging to that paltry excuse of an apology, leaving you to climb into bed alone again and curl around the gift of the book clutched to your chest. To come to grips with the chill reality of your situation and to curse your father through bitter, silent tears.

His only daughter’s happiness was never going to be any match for your father’s greed and business acumen. He smelled blood in the water surrounding Silco’s dealings and so he came swimming to join the feast, eager to use you to tie himself to the next big investment. Nary a thought or care for where that might have left you.

#silcoxreader #silco #arcane #regency silco #regency au #silco x f!reader #arcane silco x reader #silco fic #arcane fic #silco x reader #silco arcane #gift fic

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oceanspray5 · 10 months

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I used to LOVE jelsa (jack frost/elsa) during the RotBFTD days and I still love that ship now. I was struck with an amazing locklyle headcanon so pls lemme know what you think of it:

AU where Lockwood is Jack and Lucy is Elsa.

Lockwood's parents died and he and Jess die a few years later cuz of something Lockwood does while playing against Jess's warning. Jessica tries to save him but they both ended up drowning in the lake (or something to that effect). Except Lockwood is revived as the spirit of winter. He doesn't know why he was "saved" and not Jessica when it was his fault she died. He concludes its his punishment for eternity is to go unseen and unheard by anyone. He's so very lonely and depressed but he has no one to turn to (i haven't decided who George is yet).

Meanwhile we have Lucy, youngest princess of a small kingdom ruled by dictators and frought with uprising. She is born with a gift that makes her monstrous to her family and they shut her away thinking it'll only harm their already horrible reputation.

There's two ways this AU can go:

1) Lucy grows up lonely and lost wishing she could have just one person who would understand what thats like. One day, locked in her room, Lockwood happens stumbles upon her window while also solitary and restless and stumbles upon her Perhaps its cuz they both want someone who understands them so badly that Lucy can see him and hear him and he can talk to her, but they finally find the one person in existence that makes their existence feel a little less bleak and a little more whole.

2) Lucy is forced to attend a ball or event of some sort that her family is trying to put on for show to appease the townsfolk and she can't avoid it. And one of her sisters provokes her into revealing her powers so the townspeople turn on her. The rest of the family use it as an opportunity to pretend they've been so busy "containing" Lucy all these years, it's why they've been unable to work on improving the conditions of the Kingdom. Lucy has to flee to save herself in a world she knows nothing about and she's being hunted and feeling worse than ever, feeling as equally cursed with her life as Lockwood does in his death.

They meet cuz Lockwood sees her running and, in the mood to cause some mischief, helps her out. She doesn't know he's there at first... But slowly she realizes something helped her escape and for the first time in his undead life Lockwood is seen by someone and Lucy is viewed as something other than a monster.

And then they realize they've both finally found a friend and maybe something more.

Anyway so... Thoughts? I'm so tempted to write something for this. Not a full AU, maybe just a oneshot? But the idea struck out of nowhere but I'd love to hear what you all think of the headcanon itself.

#lockwood and co #lockwood & co #locklyle #jelsa #frozen #rise of the guardians #jack frost #queen elsa #Jonathan stroud #rotbftd #jack frost x elsa #Anthony Lockwood x lucy Carlyle

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theanoninyourinbox · 4 months

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The Support Roles and Honor Titles for the New Longstar AU

The Historian

Historians are a dual-pronged role, often taken by Elders not ready to fully retire. They are mostly known for keeping accurate records of the Clans, though this may vary in accuracy and information. One Historian may focus more on births and deaths, while another only records the glories of battle. Their secondary role is to keep the Clan bloodlines from crossing over. If a Historian stops you from flirting, it’s most likely because you’re related to your crush. Or they think you’re being an idiot.

The Storykeeper

Every clan needs entertainment, and the Storykeeper is the go-to cat for that. Their stories are often drawn from histories, but may be entirely fictional, and may or may not have a moral. Storykeepers are called upon by queens and kings, Leaders and Elders, by just about every cat at least once in their lives. On cold Leafbare nights or sunny Newleaf mornings, a Storykeeper is a treasured part of the Clan.

Permaqueen/Permaking

A queen or king who have decided that their role lies in taking care of the next generation. Often being trained by Nursery Guards, they watch over kits of all kinds, whether their own or others. Oftentimes they will branch out into other roles, such as Historian, Storykeeper, Tactician, or Herbalist. Traditionally the role has only gone to queens, but occasionally a tom will become a king by choice.

The Tactician

Tacticians are the planners of the Clans. Whether it’s expanding a den, drawing out battle lines, or figuring out what to do with your day off, a Tactician is on the case. They look at a problem from every possible angle before putting out ideas. Often called upon by queens and kings to help their kits find the Role best suited for them.

The Crafter

The cleverest of paws and the artistic of minds become Crafters. They decorate the camp, often helping out Camp Guards, and see that their home is, well, homey. Crafters are called to help other cats decorate their fur, for everyday wear or ceremonial wear, and have the honor of decorating their Leader on Gathering nights. Some Crafters even have made tools, mostly to comb out fur.

The Herbalist

Quite possibly the most overlooked Role in the Clans, the Herbalist grows the herbs used to treat injuries. Many a Warrior sees them as not contributing – they just dig in dirt and water plants? Those warriors do not see the moons of work put into growing plants, often in places they do not grow, and making compost of prey scraps and unusable old herbs from the Healer’s Den.

Honor Titles

Leader

The Head of the Clan, chosen by the previous leader. They have the honor of caring for an entire clan like they would their own kittens, with some Leaders abstaining from having a mate or kits to better care for their constituents. The receive nine lives from Starclan, feeling the death of each life-giver when they die, and are denoted with the suffix -star. For a false leader, known as a False Star, to have extra lives, means they received theirs from another place entirely…

Deputy

The next-in-line to become leader. Usually an older cat with plenty of experience, but sometimes an up-and-comer will be chosen. Many Leaders have a list of cats to succeed them, and chose the one that makes the most sense at the time.

Kit

The youngest of the Clan, usually less than 6 moons old, though sometimes kits can be held back; illness or immaturity or even a Leader’s pettiness. Well beloved and watched with care.

Elder

The retirees of the Clan, sometimes only semi retired. Whether by age or injury, the Elders of the clan are well cared for and protected.

Senior

The highest rank of a Role, often the oldest and most well respected. For a Senior to ask to train a kit is a high honor for both kit and family.

Star-Blessed

The Stars may choose to give gifts to cats, different than the Sight they give to Seers. Whether feeling the pain of another, or having the ability to twist hearts with their words, the Star-Blessed are seen as a sign that times are changing. For ages, Star-blessed have been forced into Support or Healing roles, but this view has been changing as of late. Many cats see being Star-Blessed as a blessing, but for some cats, and the victims of their crimes, it can be a terrible curse.

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partywithoutsmiling · 5 days

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On the topic of Brozone

When it comes to their parents, family and family situation, Part 1:

Expanding bit of my personal headcanon on this- well, mostly personal in the way that I use it as a basis for all my AUs/Stories without fault; basically, I consider this 'Universal Headcanon' when it comes to any of my Stories, while the Stories by themselves can have Headcanon/Lore that is unique just to them XD

(Like, for an example, the luminescent markings in Moonlit AU are unique just for that particular AU, and you won't see it in Rock Beast or Wanderer!Branch)

Anyway, as I hinted in this post, I headcanon the Brozone Bros as being of mixed herritage: half-Pop and half-Rock

Biologically, it makes them slightly less hardy when it comes to Winter, and little bit more feral looking compared to other Pop Trolls, something that got more prominent the older they grew

Age - Using Branch's hatching as a base line (at 0), I headcanon the ages thus: - JD at 16, Spruce/Bruce at 14/13, Clay at 12 and Floyd at 11

Pop Troll Capitol - John Dory had hatched at a time where Pop Troll territory (expanded upon in this answered ask) had already started shrinking, but still boasted several strong settlements. However with those Settlements slowly disappearing (And unknown to the Pop Trolls, harvested by Bergens), Pop Trolls started naturally migrate towards the Troll Tree, at this point considered the Capitol 'City' of sorts; - However, everyone desired to live there, considered to be not only the pinacle of the high life but also place of endless oppoturnities, home for especially talented Trolls- not something little half-rock troll JD could ever hope to achieve, but could at least dream about; - A dream that started to be more of an ambitious goal, when more of his brothers hatched, and JD, being the oldest and feeling responsible for the happiness of his siblings, wanted to get them out of the backwater settlement they are growing up in- an oppoturnity that presented, when their Grandmother, Rosiepuff, offered to house them while they tried to prove themselves

Boy Band 'Aristocracy' - Being part of a succesful band- especially part of a boy band- was a prestigious status, as close as to aristocracy as the hierarchy in the Pop Troll Tribe could get. The most succesful band gained the priviledge of living in the Troll Tree, along with all the other 'gifted' Pop Trolls, and were free to interact with the Royal Family on more personal level - Brozone was considered especially progidious; not only they were able to harmonize better than anyone else, but they were also the youngest to really 'make it' and stand out from all the hopefuls

Nepotism? - The early Brozone- the one without Branch in it- was not starved for talent, but it was largely thanks to their grandmother that they were even allowed the chance - While mixed herritage was not a rare thing to happen in the Tribe- despite ancient conflicts, Trolls tended to trickle back and forth between Kingdoms- none of them ever lived in the Troll Tree, and were it not for Rosiepuff and her known family history, the Brozone would never even get the chance

Barebones Family Tree - Their Pop Half is maternal, with their mother named Mulberry; born at the Troll Tree, to Rosiepuff and to a troll named Brazen (who I headcanon gathered bit of a fame himself, imagine essentially Troll Frank Sinatra XD), she decided the glamour and glitter life is not something that was for her - Always bit quieter and more of an intelectual, she decided to move out of the Troll Tree and settle in a Village closer to the North - There she managed to meet a Rock Troll named Thorn (Or 'Thornberry', as she came to call him) - Thorn, being a young Troll, had been indulging in the Rock Troll tradition of a Solo Tour (as mentioned in my Wanderer!Branch Lore Dump), which usually happened in the Rock Troll Kingdom but could bleed into other Kingdoms- a habit that brought him literaly crashing on Mulberry's doorstep - In the true opposite attracts fashion and through shenanigans, they eventually fell in love and started family together - Rosiepuff thought it romantic; Brazen was not so accepting - Unknown to most, however, Thorn was not just your average Rock Troll, but the heir to the Rock Throne and an older brother to Thrash (if only by few months) - Thorn kept his sudden family a secret at first, knowing the fact they are Pop wouldn't be accepted, and while his age allowed it, he flitted back and forth between them and Volcano City, making him a rather spotty presence in his sons' lives - Eventually, however, his flightly behaviour started to be frowned upon by the Rock Trolls, as age wise he was long past when it was acceptable to travel around solo- and so he planned a longer trip to Volcano City, if only to tell his father (the King at the time) to fuck off and pass the rule down to Thrash (This didn't really work out, as he had not been allowed to leave after that, leaving Mulberry to struggle to support four children) - JD at 14yo, Spruce/Bruce at 12/11, Clay at 10, Floyd at 9 - It was his disappearence that had Mulberry cave to JD's wheedling to give the Boy Band a shot, and after talking it through with Rosiepuff, the boys moved with their Grandmother while Mulberry stayed behind in hopes that Thorn will come back

(Part two here)

#trolls #dreamworks trolls #trolls fandom #trolls branch #lore dump #brozone

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cloudymistedskies · 6 months

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Bow-Less Mari AU info dump time!!

Quick summary as to what this AU is: It revolves around what would happen if Muichiro and Riko died. While Muichiro's death would impact her, Riko's would be her breaking point. Mari would still have some same characteristics, only that uh... It's not the same. And also this is a Yuichiro lives instead AU

Lazy ass doodle

As I mentioned before, Mari is 16 around this AU. This may or may not be because so Misaki and Akio would become slayers and be Mari's tsugukos.

Mari was an empty husk when her sister died. She stopped taking care of herself and only focused on training and missions she's assigned to. It was so bad, to the point that she would frequently be sent to the butterfly mansion.

She only started to take care of herself when her aunt took her in. Numerous times, she's been caught over training herself.

Also mentioned in a previous post, Mari is a perfectionist. Well this goes to all AUs in general, but this one is more present and frequent.

Ironically, Mari wouldn't offer Misaki and Akio the same training as for her own. She knew that the training she goes through is risky and she wouldn't want them to go through all that.

The reason why I called it Bow-less Mari AU is cause the bow is basically the thing that keeps her sane and well. Riko's gift was something that meant so much to her. And a bit of a symbolism that Riko was the main root of her growth/maturity.

Even though Riko wasn't there to care for her, her (technically adopted) family was there. Unfortunately, it didn't help with her emotional/mental state but she began smiling more often with them.

The reason why Yuichiro and Mari's relationship is restrained is cause of a huge misunderstanding. Yuichiro thought Mari abandoned both him and Muichiro, and seeing Muichiro grieving over Mari's disappearance broke him.

But despite his anger, deep down, he still cares about Mari. He doesn't show it, but he feels the need to protect her as she's the only person he has left in his life.

Mari's haori is actually different in this AU! well colorwise. It more so represents evening-ish skies.

You would think Mari would be less expressive, but that wouldn't be the case. Mari is actually more emotional, but also short tempered.

Mari hates her attachment issues. She always sworn to herself not to get close to somebody but would always fail no matter what. And if they end up dying, it would worsen her hatred.

One time, during a mission; Mari wasn't able to save an older sibling from a demon attack and it devastated the younger sibling. Mari would feel immense guilt and visited the family for a while, offering her deepest apologies. She still has yet to move on from that (..Well she never moved on from any problems she has...)

Mari sleeps more often. To her, it was a way to escape the harsh reality that she's in and just stay in a headspace where everybody is all fine and dandy.

If Mari ever feels like she's not doing anything with her training, she would harm herself in any way possible as a form of punishment. This may be derived from her mother's actions towards her, only more physically.

Despite her horrible mental state, she still tries to be a good role model for her younger siblings. Surprisingly, Mari's favorite sibling is the youngest child (3 years old by this time).

Because Riko died, Mari's kindness is less...shown, at least towards others. She still remains as the harsh and blunt Mari that she was when she was younger. Although like always, it's a facade to appear stronger. That facade fades when she's around the people she's close to. (Ex. Hiyori)

Unlike original AU Mari, she doesn't know how to cook/clean... But she knows how to do her make-up.

Mari often uses her family name (Minami, the family where she was adopted in) as an advantage for her missions. Frequently, she goes to cities for her missions.

A more detailed explanation for the above. The Minami name was a powerful name, and despite Mari still being referred to as “Kaizumi-sama” and such, she’s legally a Minami.

Funnily enough, Mari is a fashionable girl in this AU. (mainly for her missions AHAHFHDSDHFH)

Mari only lives on to serve her purpose as a demon slayer. If demons were fully eliminated or she ends up retiring, she would kill herself, ultimately deciding her time was up.

That will be all for now ! More bow-less Mari fun facts will be given to u soon :3333

Ask away if u have some questions regarding Mari !!!!

tagging these three cause they probably wanted this AHHSFHSDHF

@theyluvsmilo @sakurasunkiss @rainechizakuslife HSFHSDFHSDFH

#cloudy rambles #demon slayer #kimetsu no yaiba #kny #kny oc #demon slayer oc #kimetsu no yaiba oc

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batfamscreaming · 9 months

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Multiple Links au

It’s been a week of traveling as a whole group. What they assume is a whole group. Surely eight is plenty, right? Not dopplegangers, not twins, not ‘shadows’, but eight people with the same name and story and sense of justice surely don’t just meet every day.

The fire has gotten roaring, and rations are handed out in organized, mostly-civil silence, because if they dare slip too much out of this rigid pattern then meals will be a free-for-all of first-come-first-serve of stolen jerky and guarded fruit and they know themselves well enough to realize that would be an unideal situation for the sake of one night of reigning over the food pile.

So supper is dispensed in relative silence, to get it done with as fast as possible, and then is when they begin to relax a little, food in hand and weight off their feet. It is not yet night, but the calm evening hour where the sun is low but not yet near the horizon. Birds start to nest. Bats are out instead, snatching bugs out of the air.

It’s been a week. Mostly one of nodding back and forth and cautious feeling-out. A few careful spars—closer to demonstrations than a spar, even, with how they sidestep each other’s swipes and no one seems quite willing to follow through. Maybe if they found some nice long sticks instead of their swords.

One suggests they seek out a dojo for bokken, and another asks what a dojo and a bokken is, and they all sort of-- dissolve against each other like that, bumping up against words and ideas that are much less familiar than the faces around the fire are.

It is a very strange week. Mostly filled with silence and interspersed with logistics. Where are they (not home.) Who are they (not recognized, but in a new, funhouse mirror sort of way this time.) (what was a funhouse mirror?) (Well. You see. Hm.) (They were all a bit more used to things being explained at them, not having to do the explaining. Their best friend, you see, was an explainer, and-- oh. She’s your best friend, too?)

So they were still toeing the waters, but they had toed it enough to know they couldn’t all use their real name all the time, because just an hour before a deku baba had popped by the edge of the path.

Someone had shouted, “Link, look out!” and everyone else had turned, and it had been just as effective as shouting “look out!” to no one in particular at all.

It is not nearly as big a deal to tap someone on the shoulder and quietly point out a bird then to shout "look out!" to a group of six-or-seven armed loners spinning in all directions to find an ambush.

So they probably should figure something about about that, but all of them have only ever been gifted nicknames, not taken them, and so all seem to be waiting for the others to make a move first.

"So," Link-with-a-blue-scarf says, setting his empty dish aside and leaning into the circle. Everyone sits up a little and leans in in response.

Link-with-the-blue-scarf has hair cropped short and neat, and he's been the most casual about so many identical strangers. He opens with, "We should probably talk about the death thing."

A long look travels around the circle of them, unsure eyes and neutral expressions trying to read each other and gauge each other's reactions, to see if anyone else is confused or if this is something only they don't know about.

"Um," one of the other blue ones raises his hand. It is the youngest of them, whose skin is tanned darkest and hair bleached palest, and his expression least impressed. The hammer on his back is twice as big as his head and adorned with a moblin skull. "Be more specific. Phantoms? Poes?"

"Death?" Link of the blue scarf says. "When you die?"

"With or without dolls?" the gangliest of them says. He has no sword, except for when the deku baba attacked, and a ruby sword appeared in his hand.

"Um," says blue scarf. "Without dolls?"

They are all silent again, waiting for someone to explain the dolls.

"Yeah, that might be bad," Gangly-with-dolls says. "Do all of us have to die or will it all reset if only one of us does?"

"What are you all talking about?" their cook says. Simultaneously, three others leap to their feet, all shouting, "wait, you die too?"

The tallest Link in the group stands, pulls out an ocarina, and blasts a note so shrill the night falls silent around them.

Everyone shuts up.

The tallest Link lowers his ocarina.

He has a full chestplate of armor and a red and white mask at his hip. His greatsword is as thick as his arm.

"Thank you," he says. "I'm calling a time out. I was under the impression only I could die and come back, and that it was a side effect of an item I carried."

"It happens without dolls, too," Gangly-dolls says helpfully.

"What item?" Scarfy interrupts.

The tallest Link holds up his ocarina. Several of them plug their ears, but he doesn’t blow again.

"This seems to have minor control over recent time. I have never died without it." He pauses. "Well. To my knowledge."

"Okay, well, we don't all come back," says the only Link whose hair is red. Pink, even. He had jumped up and shouted before, and now sat down again cross-legged and cross-armed, frowning. "Because the hero before me died and stayed dead, and it was kind of a problem."

"Maybe they weren't really the hero?" Scarf says, but it is half-hesitant. Unconvinced.

"I wasn't the hero," says the boy with the skull hammer. "But I also didn't die until after I became the hero, so."

(One of them is sitting very still, looking very pale. Nauseous even. He is loosening the shawl around his neck and tugging on his collar. They are politely ignoring him, because if he is not kicking a fuss he is probably trying to hide it. If he does vomit, they'll swarm him.)

"Okay, but all of us here have died, right?" Blue-Scarf says, looking around the suddenly animated circle. No one happy but everyone is listening. The Link who's self-appointed as cook each night has gone pale too, and the redhead has started ripping up grass where he sits. "I've never died around someone who also can die, and so I'm not sure either what the mechanics would be, and no one has died so far, I'm assuming?"

No one spoke to disagree.

"Okay. We need to decide now if when that potentially happens, what kind of reactions we are going to take. If we're going to press forward and presume we are regular people in this instance, or if we believe a total party kill is necessary, and if so: do the survivors press on and scout, potentially losing people forever, or are we risking a weeks-long reset if there’s a long period between the first and last death? What's the longest anyone's gone back?"

"Few hours."

"Urp…"

"Hour or two, yeah."

"Four hours."

"This is a terrible question."

"Three days," says the one with the ocarina. "...though, apparently, I have been misreading the cause."

There are a couple nods, and one, "I mean, you can time travel without dying, so," which from the redhead which goes ignored.

Scarfy speaks up again. "Okay. So, it seems to prefer very short term. So, I'm not excited to say it, but if we suffer a casualty it seems like a fast total party kill would be the… yes?"

A hand has gone up. It is their self-appointed cook. He carries no bags with him, or swords, or bedroll, or spare cloak. Just a slab on his hip, beset with lapis and gold. His skin is two-toned, his arm and half his face tanning differently on one side of his body than the other.

The hand is shaking.

"Hi. Uh." He lowers his hand to cover his mouth. He clears his throat. The hand still shakes, even when his voice doesn’t. "I think there's been a mistake."

#multiple links #legend of zelda #loz #breath of the wild #botw #don't really wanna tag this as linkedverse but it is. clearly that genre of AU #massive multiplayer crossover au #beatext #my fics #fanfiction #tws in tags #suicide mention /#discussion of suicide #video game death

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chupenguin · 10 months

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Okay okay you know how there's always a Howl's Moving Castle au for almsot any ship, obviusly icluding skk But you know what I haven't see yet?? The superior au: Soukoku as Book! Howl and Sophie Like come on, I don't really like the film but the book is EVERYTHING to me

I need pathetic wet cat Dazai who owns a guitar he doesn't know how to play, catches a forever cold durig the whole adventure, gifts his heart to a random demon and runs away from a crazy ex girlfriend

I need tired Chuuya who uses his curse as an excuse for finally get a rest and get away from all the work expected from him, I need Chuuya being ANGRY about falling for Dazai in the first place (maybe a twist about being a youngest son condemed to failure)

"I'm going to bed, where I may die" 1'00% dazai vibes when he's sick or being anoying looks like an asshole but then he's a nice guy who offers cheaper prices for mor humble people and taxes higher prices to the rich Dazai and his human family at the other side of the black door that would be Odasaku and the orphans, who are just worried about what is Dazai making with his life out there (Oda would be less cruel than Howl sister but whatever) the kids would LOVE weird uncle Dazai

"I may like you so I'm going to make a dog bite you and throw a bucket into your head and almost posion you" 100% Chuuya, youngest of 3 and, instead of finding his fortune like the youngest should do, he's trapped into his own overworking role, Chuuya who is lonely and protective of his family and of course would rescue Dazai while he curses at him No war, no bird bullshit, no your hair is like starlight or whatever and NO TIME LOOPS I hate that plot

Just two pinning idiots falling in love while anoying the shit out of each otehr as everyone in the castle suffers a lot, I just want them to fall for each other without a find me in the future plot, no Dazai flirtst with Chuuya's once before curse an Chuuya steps on his shoe and runs away Dazai calls Chuuya's hair ugly and then regrets it and he calls him a force of nature and is a pinning idiot

Atsushi would be Michael, Lucy would be Martha (she's not Chuuya's sister here, but a friend of the family) The prince and sulivan i don't care, make him 2 random people like not even the book cares about them

And Lettie can be Kouyou who is away becoming the biggest witch off her time while Verlaine fortune is finding love and moving into a qiet place with his husbanf to be happy while Chuuya refuse to leave the familly shop becuase someone needs to keep it working

Dazai buying a WHOLE FLOWERSHOP AND MOVING THE CASTLE INTO A FLOWER FIELD FOR CHUUYA is far more romantic and charming than the starlight hair thing he's such a simp

LIKE PLEASE

Dazai being dramatic:

OH AND NOT REDEMPTION FOR THE WITCH THEY KILL THE WITCH (Fyodor I gues) TOGHETER AS A COUPLE POWER MOVE

#bsd #bungou stray dogs #chuuya nakahara #dazai osamu #skk #dachuu #chuuya x dazai #double black #howl jenkins pendragon #howl moving castle #hmc #howl moving castle book #sophie hatter #sophie harrison #paul verlaine #kouyou ozaki #atsushi nakajima #fyodor dostoevsky

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blorbologist · 9 months

Note

How would being ruidusborn affect Percy's relationships with his siblings, dyou think? And in turn, his grief and survivor's guilt over what happens to them?

... oh dear.

So. First of all - I think that Ruidusborn!Percy would be a lot more isolated due to his powers. There's both the social stigma that comes with it, isolating him from peers for being unlucky, cursed from birth - but also the fact that, just... do you really want your know-it-all brother to know everything about you? He has six siblings - I doubt a young Percy would extend the same grace to his siblings he does to VM, because he has a pronounced little shit instinct and would delight in Knowing shit he isn't supposed to and potentially holding it over his siblings' heads. He might perceive himself as being closer to them, because he knows all their secrets and such, but I suspect he might spend even more time in the workshop as a child. Percy likely knows perfectly well how to keep his powers in check, at least to a degree, and not snoop on his siblings too intentionally after some spat or another actually hurts his feelings/makes him realize just how invasive this feels for others, but - again. If he realizes he's genuinely made his siblings uncomfortable, he might just go hide in the workshop both to avoid the situation and make a gift to make it right. TLDR, young Percy would still greatly love his family, and maybe feel even more strongly attached to them - but this might be counterbalanced by his siblings and parents being less attached to him.

(Maybe Cass might still be fond of him, a cool big brother who can read her mind, by virtue of being the youngest and Percy being enough years older that she hopefully does not experience the worst of him taking advantage of mind reading, unlike her siblings who dealt with him ratting them out, beating them to their ideas and otherwise being a bit of a lil shithead. Julius and Vesper might feel more protective of him, as their little cursed brother, but would likewise probably be more distant given he's less a sibling and more a responsibility :C)

(Hm! I could see Frederick and/or Johanna keeping him discreetly nearby when dealing with nobles/family they don't necessarily trust, as a sort of lie detector. Situations where Percy isn't actually part of the event, and is kept away from the worst of the crowds, but uses his abilities to listen in and keep his parents informed. Say they bring these important guests into a parlor of somesort. Good gods would that inflate his ego.)

On the other hand, we see with Imogen that being in crowds can be downright distressing for a Ruidusborn with telepathy, so Percy might be excused from social events often (both for his sake and that of the guests). Yet another reason to spend more time in his workshop - which is why I can still easily see Percy being a Gunslinger in this AU and not leaning into full Sorcerer like Imogen. He's tinkering just as much if not more, so he definitely has those skills from all this time spent alone in his workshop. Hell - if I go with my idea of making him albino (so the white hair is tied to him being Ruidusborn, not to Trauma) it might be better to keep him inside regardless, due to being so sensitive to sunlight. (I bet the bastard invents sunglasses.)

Can you see where I'm going with this? I hope you can:

Percy wouldn't have been at the dinner with the Briarwoods.

The de Rolos don't distrust the Briarwoods - they're having dinner with their entire family there! But all his siblings, and his parents, and the servants, and the guards, and the guests would be a lot for Percy, and he's likely fairly used to eating supper on his own anyways.

Perhaps he knew something was afoot. Perhaps a day or two before he caught a guard thinking terrible things, and informed his parents, and the man was hung and it was thought the treason was routed. He saved his family, he could rest easy.

He shouldn't have.

(Unfortunate for him that Anders is his tutor. That Anders knew well about his powers, and clearly could have informed the Briarwoods of this as well as minding himself accordingly. Of course Percy wouldn't pry into his tutor's thoughts. Of course he wouldn't know that, had he attended dinner, he wouldn't be able to glean anything from the Briarwoods, that they'd offer these fancy magic items from Wildemount for the de Rolo's poor, cursed boy. Of course he doesn't know he'd almost have been happy, before it started.)

(And in the dungeon, he gets to feel the minds of each of his family members be snuffed out. Ripley makes sure he's close enough for that.)

#ruidusborn!percy #percival de rolo #ask #cr au #critical role #I should have tagged the last asks OOOPS

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topherbuttz · 6 months

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Uhhh future Clone High AU stuff I guess. :V

Catholicism is a hell of a drug Mr(s). Columbus.

Info about the kids under the cut ↓

Toph and Otto, both around 42 years old now. They live in Italy, Toph has a government job, makin' laws and stuff. Otto is a fashion designer and often has his daughter, Bianca, model his stuff. They're both well-known and well-off.

Salvatore (24) is their firstborn. He's very, very flat. No emotion, no empathy, nothing. He used to also work in more local government, but after a suicide attempt he's been taking time off. No hobbies or friends and doesn't really want any or care. Fully aroace.

Bianca (21) is very... intimidating. She's a lot. Bold personality, demanding, intense. She works as a model and is debating about breaking further into the industry, but it's still very harsh in the year 2065... Straight.

Lorenzo (21) is much less intimidating than his twin sister. He's relatively good with his hands, likes working on things and fixing stuff if he can find it. Soft-spoken and gentle but... somewhat unsettling. Works as an assistant nurse, also straight.

Alfonso (19) is also brash and tough. He's incredibly resistant to authority, hates doing what he's told, loves playing LOUD metal music and working on his own with his bandmates. Very disrespectful, drinks and smokes, too. Bisexual.

Marcello (17) is a ball of anxiety on legs. He tries to catch a lot of the heat off his siblings if there's tension, and is often blamed for things he didn't do. Is very popular in school and well-liked for his easygoing personality and friendly demeanor. Straight.

Ciena (16) is a freak. Completely into anime and cartoons, desperately wants to be a news reporter in her future. Never seen without her cameras. Big, loud and bright personality perfect for TV. Likes hyping people up. Biromantic Asexual.

Dominic (15), also resistant to authority, but much less aggressive about it than his older brother. Resents Topher. Very popular in school as well, with his own 'in-crowd'. Helps run several clubs as well. Complete daddy's boy and wants to make Otto proud. Likes girls, but struggles to call himself straight (he's transmasc).

Dante (12), even more of a freak than Ciena. Special interest in religion and very very annoying about it. Has an unfortunate tendency to police people to follow his own moral guidelines and pray for them if they don't. Mommy's boy and choir kid. Probably straight...?

Bella (12) is trying to hold it together. Desperately wants to be the 'good kid' her parents don't worry about but she's an anxious mess. Gifted, sure, but hot damn would she rather be writing fanfiction than doing her extra homework. Closer to her twin brother than anyone else, even if she's not religious herself. Aroace.

Ella (11) is much like her oldest brother, but doesn't speak. Ever. She isn't fond of communication boards, either. Also very expressionless and empty-seeming, but shows an affinity towards animals. Doesn't define her sexuality and doesn't care to.

Viviana (7) is the youngest and the baby of the family. Often watches instead of does, and keeps notes on people. Often found around Ciena due to their shared love of observing people. Timid, and not often verbal herself either. Unknown sexuality.

#theyre all neurodivergent #of course #clone high #topher bus #clone high season 2 #clone high season two #clone high topher #christopher columbus #clone high topher bus #clone high christopher columbus #i drew this #topher #clone high au #clone high oc #clone high otto #ottoph #definitely.

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jebewonmorelike · 4 months

Text

✰⋆⁺ Steal Your Heart ⁺⋆✰

*ੈ Part Three: The Magician ♡ Han Yujin

♡ Steal Your Heart Masterlist

♡ Read this Introductory Post and the Masterlist for details!

♡ Read Part One, Part Two (Gyuvin), and Part Three (Jiwoong) Here!

˚☽˚｡⋆ Steal Your Heart: An Interactive Fanfiction Game

... Collect Points to Determine Your Love Interest and Special Ending!!

⁺⋆✰ wc: 9.5k (sorry it took so long but i had panic attacks for a month straight. pls enjoy, i know the chapters just get longer. sorry. i promise they're good though!)

⁺⋆✰ reader-insert pronouns: none used; n/a -- reader is the 10th member of AU ZB1, but the group is referred to only as an "idol" group. no mentions or descriptions of gender of reader.

⁺⋆✰ chapter warnings: crime (reader was wrongfully convicted of a crime), swearing, injury/vague descriptions of blood, suggestion of a drinking problem, mild violence, angst, the choice *ugh, fine* is for kids only (light yujin romance), and lots of really funny and insane shenanigans! all ages welcome; pg-13+ themes.

⁺⋆✰ summary: for series summary click here. jiwoong, gyuvin, and (y/n) are now fully awakened to their powers in the metaverse, confronting their company's president head-on as the fate of au!zb1 lies in their hands. youngest member of zb1, han yujin, has been enjoying his time at university during the group's hiatus. what happens when a wrench is thrown into his plans? inspired by the jrpg persona 5.

⁺⋆✰ please download the scoresheet for the game here!

・゜゜ . . * ✧･ﾟ・ ✧･ﾟ: ・゜゜・．

Welcome back, Player! Get your scoresheet ready-- are you ready to start the fourth installment of our game? Soon we'll get to see how your Chapter Choice from Part Three plays out! Remember to tally your points on your scoresheet! I think it's time we heard from our youngest member, don't you agree?

JUNE 21st -- AFTERNOON

Yujin had begged Manager Sang to let him miss today’s company meeting. He assumed they’d just be receiving more vaguely discouraging news from President Kim like they usually did every few weeks, so what was the point of going anyway?

Total Control were just counting down the days until ZeroBaseOne’s contracts expired at this point. That way they could finally pawn off Gunwook and himself to the highest bidding company for re-debut and push Hao as fully a soloist.

But after a semester exploring an incredible gift of an opportunity he had been given, Yujin wasn’t even sure if he wanted to redebut anymore.

From the start, Yujin had only wanted to be in ZeroBaseOne. He was barely in high school when Total Control’s survival show changed his life forever. His members became his friends and often his parents-by-proxy. Obviously, he didn’t need that sort of coddling anymore, but it never stopped them from pinching his cheeks and cooing at him affectionately as he seethed.

Despite his annoying members and the indefinite hiatus of the group, Yujin could imagine less and less having an idol career separate from the incredibly dysfunctional family you all had formed throughout the years.

But the inherent need to dance still called unshakably to him. And that’s where attending university had swooped in to save him…

When Yujin auditioned for the Dance Performance major at the Korean National University of Arts in the winter, he’d been automatically waitlisted. It broke his heart, but he ultimately knew he wouldn’t have been able to afford university anyway-- what with the debt he owed the company continuing to pile up and all.

No work, no pay. For anyone.

Manager Sang had somehow caught word of this and held a meeting with the upper management of Total Control right away. When President Kim called Yujin into his executive office the following week and told him that the company would pay his university tuition if he eventually passed the Dance Performance major audition, the youngest member of ZeroBaseOne was shocked.

He’d always thought of President Kim as a bit of a blowhard, so this seemingly benevolent opportunity left him a bit shaken. So shaken that Yujin could barely focus on reading or interpreting the lengthy contract shoved immediately in front of him.

Luckily, Manager Sang was there to explain it to him and, after assuring he found no pitfalls in it, Yujin shakily signed his name on the dotted line in a happy daze.

That had been the only good news Yujin had received from the company since your... accident. So he almost threw up from whiplash after President Kim announced half an hour ago in the company boardroom that all ZeroBaseOne members (the ones not currently serving time for a felony, of course) would start preparing for a comeback by the start of next week.

Yujin had come straight to the company after his calculus exam that afternoon feeling positive that his efforts had yielded him good results. There had been no doubt in his mind that he’d ace his audition for the Dance Performance department after the meeting at Total Control, but a full hyperventilation episode in the bathroom later has Yujin currently sprinting down the street-- three minutes late for his audition appointment.

“Han Yujin-sshi?” A feminine voice is calling as Yujin nearly collapses into the university’s main auditorium. The tone of the voice suggests that it’s called his name several times already. Yujin bows furiously in apology at the judges’ panel as he runs down the aisle, throwing his duffel bag down haphazardly on a theater seat and unlacing his shoes like he’s gunning for a world record.

He clambers up onto the stage, gulping when he suddenly remembers how big the auditorium is-- something that would never have bothered him a year ago. Yujin had been practicing almost every night for at least nine weeks with Hanbin at his dance studio, perfecting his audition routine until there wasn’t a doubt in his mind that he would make the cut.

Yujin had pulled an all-nighter studying for his calculus final last night, but Hanbin had reassured him that he had nothing to worry about.

“You know what you have to do,” Hanbin said, running his hand through Yujin’s hair fondly. “Nothing’s gonna get in the way of this between now and tomorrow. Believe in yourself. You’re a shoe-in.”

Hanbin could never have predicted the news they’d received this afternoon and the pained look in his eyes from across the conference room said it all.

“I am new student, Han Yujin,” he introduces himself a bit robotically to the panel of six judges in front of him. He knows a couple of them from his elective dance classes this past semester, but most of the other judges are higher-ups in the department that he’d only seen at his previous failed audition. There’s a wave of nausea in Yujin’s stomach and he quietly swallows it down. “I am eighteen years old and I have been dancing since I was in middle school. I’m grateful for the opportunity to display my skills to the judges and I will work hard to be a member of the Dance Performance school.”

Yujin waits for the music to start in his opening stance but when it doesn’t, he realizes there’s whispering coming from the judges’ table.

“Excuse me, Han Yujin-sshi,” a rather stern-looking older man that Yujin doesn’t recognize calls out to him. The hopeful student brings his arms back to his side, nodding compliantly at him. “Are you the idol Han Yujin?”

Yujin bows quickly. “Yes, sir. I am Han Yujin of idol group ZeroBaseOne.”

“I see,” the older man replies, whispering something to the woman beside him before meeting Yujin’s gaze again. “I’ve heard your group has made quite the mess of yourselves. I’m surprised you admitted to your membership under these circumstances, but I respect the honesty nonetheless. Please continue with your performance, Han Yujin-sshi.”

The audition is a blur. The music comes on and Yujin performs his routine, but his mind is everywhere but the auditorium. Instead, he’s thinking about the judge’s comments, Hanbin’s look of pity across the boardroom, the air in his lungs that never seems like it’s enough, the thought of not being able to go to university anymore...

The monthly envelopes of cash that his parents have to send him so that he can eat...

The otherworldly roar of the crowd only a little over a year ago when ZeroBaseOne performed a sold-out encore show at the Skydome...

The bloodcurdling sound of you screaming your lungs out wafting all the way to the police station waiting room as you plead your innocence...

“Thank you, Yujin-sshi. We’ll look forward to seeing your continued improvement at our next audition.”

JUNE 21st -- EVENING

Yujin stands outside the door of your dorm building, stuck ruminating about whether or not to go inside. On one hand, if he went inside he’d have to tell everyone about his failure. But on the other hand, he could go to sleep in his perfect, warm bed and (hopefully) never wake up.

He takes a deep breath. Maybe he could avoid everyone if he just kept his head down and made a beeline straight to his room.

Yujin opens the door, ready to make a run for it when he comes face to face with…

Let's find out the effects of your Chapter Choice for Part Three, Player! To refresh your memory, Choice 1 was to make Jiwoong do Lots of Aegyo while Choice 2 was to request A Kiss.

⁺⋆✰ If You Chose “LOTS OF AEGYO”:

“You—,” Jiwoong stutters, taking a step back. “You wouldn’t. You couldn’t.”

“I can,” you affirm with an evil smile. “And I will. And I’ll also film it and make you post it.”

“But… But I have a reputation to uphold!” Jiwoong protests, running his hands through his hair in anguish.

“Do you?” You and Gyuvin snort at the same time.

“Oh, shut up,” Jiwoong spits, shaking his head in disbelief. “Why couldn’t you have asked me to, like… make your bed… or… I dunno, like, kiss you or something?”

“WhAt,” you squeak. “Why would I ask you to kiss me?”

“I dunno, you probably can’t get anyone else to,” Jiwoong replies with a shrug, his ears turning crimson. “Okay, can we just get on with the aegyo?”

“Yeah, can we?” Gyuvin seconds with a huff.

“Yeah… Yeah, okay,” you agree, pulling out your phone and opening the camera app. “Can you do a cheek poke?”

Jiwoong sulks, puffing out his cheek and poking it with his index finger. He looks like a depressed toddler. You take a pic.

“Uh, how about a finger heart?” Gyuvin suggests with a shrug as he stares at Jiwoong like his hyung has three heads.

Jiwoong makes a finger heart with his right hand, positioning it in front of his face as he continues to frown.

“Can you just f*cking lighten up for a second?” You ask, lowering your phone. “Is it that hard? Do I need to physically force you to look happy?”

“Happiness wasn’t part of the deal,” Jiwoong replies with a smirk, stuffing his hands in his pockets.

“No, no, no, no— get those hands out of your pockets! I’m not done with you!” You shout, walking over to Jiwoong and prying both of his hands back into the open. You form a ‘C’ with each of his hands and stick them to each of his cheeks. “Ohhhh, soooo cute Jiwoongie!”

Jiwoong is placated as he stares back at you, doe-eyed as you take a picture. It’s as good as you’re gonna get.

You send it to him and then grab his phone from his hands, making sure he opens Instagram to post it. Once you hand it back to him, you watch attentively as he types a caption and posts the aegyo picture.

“Aren’t you just the cutest baby boy in the whole world?” You tease as Jiwoong turns red again, rubbing it in as much as possible while you have the opportunity. “Jiwoongie is sooo adorable, I could just. Eat. Him. Right. Up.”

Your bond with Jiwoong has grown stronger. +0 Jiwoong Point.

・゜゜ . . * ✧･ﾟ・ ✧･ﾟ: ・゜゜・．

⁺⋆✰ If You Chose “A KISS”:

“A WHAT!?” Gyuvin shouts, your hand flying to cover his mouth. You definitely don’t need to attract the attention of anyone else in the dorm right now. Still, your tallest friend continues to protest, “MMWHHMM!”

Jiwoong just blinks at you, eyes widening a bit in nervous surprise. “Are you—… are you serious?”

Gyuvin’s hand closes around yours, prying it off of his mouth. “I’d f*cking love to hear the answer to that question as well, actually.”

“Well, I know it’s a large price to pay and might even be too much to ask in exchange for joining the Phantom Thieves,” you explain, glaring at Gyuvin as he slowly catches on. “Clearly, Jiwoong is shocked and disgusted by this proposition so—.”

“I am?” Jiwoong interrupts.

“Yes! Exactly! You are,” you agree enthusiastically, not realizing that Jiwoong’s statement had actually been a question. “So it seems like you aren’t going to be able to join the Phantom Thieves after all! Oh noooo! This is terrible news. But since you really don’t want to kiss me—.”

“Who said I don’t wanna kiss you, (Y/N)?” Jiwoong interrupts again, a dangerous smirk now turning up one corner of his lips. “Would be a lot more fun than listening to the two of you keep yapping.”

You’re silent, suddenly aware of the possibility you might be caught in your own trap. Jiwoong’s arms fold across his chest— one eyebrow arching smugly. Even though he had spent the better part of a year ignoring you and talking about you behind your back, you should’ve known that Jiwoong would somehow still be down to kiss you.

He’s down to kiss everyone.

“In fact, the only one who said I don’t wanna kiss you, is you,” Jiwoong continues, taking a step towards you. “And how funny is it that you’re the one who suggested it in the first place? Maybe you’ve been thinking about kissing me this whole time.”

“That’s enough, hyung,” Gyuvin warns, large hand resting on Jiwoong’s shoulder. “We’ll just pick something else.”

As Gyuvin starts to turn you back around to discuss a different price, Jiwoong suddenly pipes up.

“W-wait! Wait. Just wait a minute,” he says, both hands extended in front of him. This is not the stance of someone with the upperhand. “You… you already picked the price! N-no take backs! Yeah, I said it. Get over here and kiss me, (Y/N).”

“I can do literally whatever I want to actually,” you respond with a shrug. “And now that you made fun of me, I’m gonna make the price MUCH worse now.”

“NO! No, (Y/N), please,” Jiwoong begs, closing the distance between you as he places his hands on both of your shoulders and shakes them. “Just let me kiss you! PLEASE, FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, LET ME KISS YOU!”

You have to admit, it’s a pretty nice ego stroke to have Jiwoong desperate to kiss you. Not to mention, he does look a lot more handsome when he’s not esophagus-deep in a drunken bar hook-up.

A lot more like himself, too.

You lean in.

Closer.

Even closer.

And place the teensiest, tiniest peck on Jiwoong’s pretty, pink lips.

Your bond with Jiwoong has grown stronger. +1 Jiwoong Point. Please add +1 Jiwoong Point to your scoresheet.

“Oh my god,” Gyuvin says.

“Oh my god,” Jiwoong says.

“Oh my god,” you say.

・゜゜ . . * ✧･ﾟ・ ✧･ﾟ: ・゜゜・．

All Continue Reading Below

“Remind me to apply for on-campus living next semester,” Yujin huffs with disgust, dropping his duffel bag in the middle of the hallway.

“Yujin-ah!” Gyuvin exclaims, you and Jiwoong jumping back to find your youngest member standing hollow-eyed at the floor. “How—… how long have you been standing there, buddy?”

Yujin shrugs. “I dunno, a minute or so.”

Sh*t. There’s literally no way he hadn’t just heard you speak. The three of you wait in silence for the youngest to comment on it.

“If you’re waiting for me to congratulate you about getting your voice back,” Yujin says, eyes glued to the floor, “I literally could not give a flying f*ck about it.”

You breathe a collective sigh of relief. Indifference was usually what you could expect from Yujin and, though it hurts you most of the time, you couldn’t be more grateful for it right now.

“So… you won’t tell anyone about it?” You request, smiling sweetly at your maknae.

“Whatever,” Yujin replies with a roll of his eyes. You’re fairly certain you can interpret this angsty teenager response to mean something like ‘okay’.

The door flies open, a panicked Hanbin scrambling through and into the hallway. “HOWDIDITGOWEREYOULATEAFTERTHEMEETINGWEREYOUTOOUPSETTOPERFORMWELLDIDYOUMAKEITINTOTHEPROGRAM?”

F*ck. Yujin’s audition was today. You instantly feel bad for forgetting.

Yujin shakes his head back and forth just once. So that’s why he was being extra mopey and aloof. He’d worked so hard. Poor thing.

You all sit in the awkward air until Hanbin finally says, “There’s beef marinating in the fridge. I’ll go cook it.”

“BEEF,” Gyuvin yells, pumping his fist up to the sky triumphantly. You grab his arm and force it back down to his side, trying your best to be mindful of Yujin’s feelings. It’s too little too late though and Yujin lets out a long sigh before walking off down the hallway to his room.

“Do you have kimchi?” Jiwoong calls as Hanbin traipses off to the kitchen. “I think you should check if there’s any kimchi left. Someone might have… eaten it for lunch… or something.”

“All of it!? I bought that big container two days ago,” Hanbin calls back. “You and Gyuvin go buy some then! (Y/N), can you come help me, please?”

You start to make your way to the kitchen, but a large hand on your shoulder stops you. Gyuvin’s lips are pressed together nervously as he blinks back at you. “Oh um, (Y/N)? There’s something I need to tell you before--.”

“C’mon! Whatever it is, it can wait. Kimchi can not,” Jiwoong hurries, grabbing Gyuvin and pulling your best friend out the door behind him.

“So, what happened at the company meeting today?” The robotic voice of your phone screenreader rings out, cutting through the sizzling of oil in the skillet pan.

The piece of meat that Hanbin’s holding falls from his hand and splashes back into the bowl of bulgogi marinade. He fishes it back out without looking up at you, calmly replying, “Oh, it was just a regular meeting.”

You nod, aware that Hanbin’s lying to you but unsure as to why. You type again and hit play: “Why would Yujin have gotten ‘upset’ after ‘just a regular meeting’?”

Hanbin places another strip of beef into the skillet, turning up the heat. “Can you get more vegetable oil, please? There’s a new bottle in the hallway closet.”

You press your lips together, walking out of the kitchen and to the hallway closet. You open the door, locating the unopened bottle of oil on the third shelf when a series of buzzes in your pocket grabs your attention.

“(Y/N), can you hurry?” Hanbin calls from the kitchen. “I need to put more in now!”

Buzz, buzz. Buzz, buzz. Buzz, buzz.

It seems urgent. And vaguely Canadian.

Mini-Decision: Would you rather be Hanbin’s Helper or reply to those Matt-sterious Texts?

If you chose "Hanbin's Helper", read below:

You shrug, deciding the texts will have to wait for this moment. If someone was dying, then maybe it was just their time.

Running back to the kitchen with the vegetable oil bottle, you toss it to Hanbin who lets out a little panicked yelp before catching it easily in one hand.

“Thank you, honey,” he says, cracking the seal on the bottle and pouring in a liberal amount of oil. “I can always count on you!”

Your bond with Hanbin has grown stronger. +1 Hanbin Point. Please add +1 Hanbin Point to your scoresheet.

You grin, standing next to Hanbin and resting your head on his shoulder. He chuckles at your rare display of affection.

You finally pull out your phone and read the urgent series of texts…

“Something did happen today,” Hanbin says softly, placing more beef into the pan. “At the meeting. I’m sure you could already tell.”

You nod, quietly watching the oil bubble around the meat.

“Gyubinnie didn’t say anything to you though?” He asks with a pout. “He always spills the beans to you. I wonder why he didn’t tell you yet.”

Maybe he was trying to, you think.

“But I’d imagine it’s the same reason that I don’t want to tell you,” Hanbin continues with a laugh. “The truth is, I never saw this coming, lovey. I don’t know what we’re gonna do.”

You lock eyes with him, brow furrowed with concern as your face pleads for him to tell you.

Hanbin swallows, appearing nervous again. “I don’t want to be doing this unless it’s all of us. Together. It’s not right any other way.”

・゜゜ . . * ✧･ﾟ・ ✧･ﾟ: ・゜゜・．

If you chose "Matt-sterious Texts", read below:

Your fear of Hanbin’s scolding is strong, but your curiosity about the multiple buzzing texts in your pocket is undoubtedly stronger.

Pulling out your phone, you read the series of urgent texts…

Your bond with Matthew has grown stronger. +1 Matthew Point. Please add +1 Matthew Point to your scoresheet.

What did Matt mean by that? Things might get even harder on me now?

“F*ck, the vegetable oil,” you whisper, grabbing the bottle and sprinting towards the kitchen. You stop dead in your tracks when you find Hanbin glaring at you, hand on his hip in the sassiest stance a man could possibly take.

You wince at him, sheepishly walking up to him and handing him the unopened bottle.

“Seriously? I had to turn the burner off,” he scolds as he takes the bottle, turning around and resuming his pan frying. “If you’re not going to be helpful, then just sit over there so you don’t keep f*cking things up.”

Hanbin could have a viper tongue when he was mad. Fortunately, he knew this about himself and he was already turning around to apologize as soon as the words came out of his mouth.

Unfortunately, it wasn’t soon enough to keep a tear from rolling down your cheek.

“Ohhhh, no,” Hanbin coos, pulling you in for a hug immediately and cradling your head to his chest. “I’m so sorry, honey. I didn’t mean that.”

He holds you close to his side as he turns you both around so he can cook and dote on you simultaneously. “Are you okay, (Y/N)? Did something distract you earlier?”

You nod slowly into his shoulder, pulling out your phone and holding up the texts from Matthew so Hanbin can read them.

“Ahhh, I see,” he says, patting your head. “This would be pretty bothersome to read, huh?”

You gulp sadly, a little pout on your lips that Hanbin absolutely lights up at.

“I’ll bring Matthew’s papers to the company,” he assures quickly. “And I guess I should explain what’s going on to you, too. I really don’t want to be the bearer of tough news, but you deserve to know.”

・゜゜ . . * ✧･ﾟ・ ✧･ﾟ: ・゜゜・．

All Continue Reading Below

“What he’s trying to say is, we’re having a comeback,” Yujin announces unceremoniously as he sits down at the kitchen table. Hanbin turns around and glares at him but Yujin just shrugs. “What? You were gonna find out eventually that you’re getting left in the dust. So what if I don’t sugar coat it? You only have yourself to blame anyway.”

You’re not mad at him. You know he’s just extra angry tonight about his audition. Still, the news feels like a gut punch-- and you’ve been taking a lot of those lately. You feel a lump in your throat start to form, but the sudden question of why this was happening distracts you momentarily.

President Kim couldn’t possibly think rehabilitating such a problematic group was a good investment of his money or time or reputation.

So what was he planning?

“I’m sorry, (Y/N),” Hanbin says, shaking his head. “I’m just as upset as you are.”

Yujin snorts. “Don’t oversell it.”

“Yujin-ah--,” Hanbin starts to scold when he’s interrupted by ecstatic shouting.

“Kimchi: SECURED,” Gyuvin announces excitedly as he and Jiwoong enter the dorm with a big container of kimchi from the shop down the street.

“Ew, you’re so embarrassing,” Yujin says annoyedly as his eyes glue to his phone screen. “Just say you got the kimchi in a normal way.”

Gyuvin takes both of Yujin’s cheeks in one hand and squishes them emphatically. “I live to embarrass my only son.”

“Hello?” A voice suddenly calls from the front of the dorm. “Oh, it smells amazing in here.”

Manager Sang bumbles into the kitchen, a big envelope tucked under his arm. He’s wearing a corduroy button up, dress khakis and thick-framed black glasses— his Total Control Badge hanging from a lanyard around his neck.

He usually checks in on the dorm more often, but this is the first time you’ve seen Manager Sang this week. Except, of course, for the brief appearance of his likeness at King Hyunwoo’s palace last night. You eye him up and down curiously.

“Hanbinnie’s cooking for you all again, I see,” he observes with a chuckle before scanning the room and fixing on Yujin.” “Yujinnie, I have some… paperwork for you.”

“Huh?” Yujin responds like a zombie, completely worn out from his week of exams and his failed audition. “Paperwork? Is it for next semester?”

“Yeah, uh, just,” Manager Sang stammers, placing the envelope on the table in front of your maknae. “Just some stuff we need you to sign.”

“I’m gonna start looking at class options tomorrow,” Yujin says, a bit of levity in his voice as he talks about continuing school. He picks up the envelope and begins ripping it open, excitement continuing to build in his voice. “Maybe it’s a good idea to get my academic requirements out of the way first anyway.”

The smile on his face fades slowly as he pulls out a large, stapled packet of what appear to be legal documents.

“This—… this is my contract with the company to pay for my university,” Yujin says confusedly. “Do I just have to sign to renew it for next semester or something?”

Manager Sang swallows hard, replying shakily, “Well… Not exactly…”

Yujin starts to leaf through the pages of the contract, his brow furrowing with concern. “Why--... Why are a bunch of things circled in red Sharpie?”

“You see, um... President Kim heard from your university’s dance department that you did not pass your audition today,” Manager Sang explains nervously. “So we need to collect some signatures and the promised payment for failure to succeed. Including accrued interest, of course.”

“PAYMENT!?” Yujin shouts, standing up from his chair-- the speed at which he continues to flip the pages of the contract is growing alarming. No one moves a muscle as you wait for Manager Sang to fix the problem, like he always does.

“Y-yes, Yujinnie. Don’t you remember?” Manager Sang replies, a sweat beginning to break at his hairline. “If you failed to pass the audition for next semester, Total Control is no longer liable to pay for this past semester of your university studies.”

The contract falls from Yujin’s hands and onto the table. You take the opportunity to pick it up and rifle through it as Manager Sang continues to mumble on about clauses and fine-print.

You find it on the fourteenth page, a small-print section labeled and circled in red Sharpie: Proceedings for Failure to Succeed.

A silence falls over the room. You’re almost afraid to look at Yujin— the energy radiating from him is absolutely white-hot.

“You told me to sign this,” Yujin says finally through gritted teeth. Jabbing a finger right at the middle of Manager Sang’s chest, he accuses, “You read the fine-print for me and you told me it was safe to sign.”

ZeroBaseOne had once been so popular that you’d had too many managers and staff to keep track of. Manager Sang had been with you since pre-debut, though, and the members favored him because of the bond that was shared. In recent years, President Kim had also begun to favor Manager Sang and promoted him to Head Manager. When ZB1 and Total Control effectively collapsed, Manager Sang was the only manager who remained at the dying company.

You’re suddenly faced with another question of ‘why’.

“I’m sorry you’re so upset,” Manager Sang swallows, stepping backward out of Yujin’s range of motion. “You should always read a contract yourself, Yujinnie. Maybe this can be a lesson for you. In the meantime, the payment is due by Monday.”

Manager Sang rushes out of the dorm and Yujin runs after him.

“Go get him and calm him down,” Hanbin orders the three of you, keeping his hands on the skillet handle and spatula to keep from tearing his hair out. “Now!”

You, Jiwoong and Gyuvin clamber out of the kitchen towards the front door— your hands grabbing the hem of Yujin’s t-shirt just before he escapes into the cool, night air.

He’s screaming, kicking, crying and the force of his despair knocks you both down to the floor. Jiwoong locks the front door as Yujin collapses onto you.

“It’s not fair,” he cries and you just smother him into you more— Gyuvin and Jiwoong wrapping themselves around him so that he’s contained on all sides. “It’s not fair.”

“It’s not,” you agree, knowing all too well the gut wrenching pain of your f*cked up company betraying you. “It’s not fair at all.”

“It’s gonna be okay, Yujinnie,” Gyuvin soothes, rubbing his back. “It’s all gonna work out.”

“I want to go,” Yujin begs— not you or Gyuvin or Jiwoong, but the universe. He’s not speaking entirely intelligibly, but you know he means he just wants to keep going to school. “I can’t pay that money-- I can’t pay it so I can’t go anymore and I JUST WANT TO GO!”

“COMMAND HEARD: GO. COMMAND ACCEPTED. DESTINATION: METAVERSE. HAVE A NICE TRIP!”

“She really just does whatever she wants, huh?” Gyuvin wonders, shaking his head.

“What!?” Jiwoong shouts as that familiar red haze fills the air. “I thought the Metaverse was that castle at Total Control? That’s what Gyuvin said while we were at the market just now!”

“I—… thought so, too,” you say, watching as your dorm transforms into a cold, damp stone labyrinth. It’s dark; the only light coming from wooden torches hung on the walls of rock every few feet. Haunting screams and cries echo and ricochet down the hallway.

“Oh good,” Yujin says as he sits up, wiping his eyes and nose and looking around at his new surroundings. “I’m dead.”

“I…” You start to reply, marveling at what you can only assume to be the Metaverse version of your dorm. “I wouldn’t count on that just yet.”

Yujin throws his arms up exasperatedly. “Well, sh*t! Can someone put me out of my misery already?”

“(Y/N), this… this looks like some sort of prison,” Jiwoong whispers, palm up-turned towards the dark, stone ceiling above— a drop of murky water splashing onto his skin.

“Sounds like one, too,” Gyuvin snorts despite the chilled expression on his face giving him away.

“Okay, but for real,” Yujin pipes up behind you, the slightest bit of worry starting to creep into his voice. “Did I pass out or, like… get sick or something?”

“Yeah,” you reply absentmindedly, a million different questions running through your own head. Yujin starts to wander off a bit and your hand shoots out to grab his wrist— keeping him safely glued to your side. “Or something.”

“Hey, let me go,” Yujin huffs, trying to free himself from your grasp. “This is my dream, isn’t it?”

You look at your angry maknae, finding red, puffy eyes and a still-quivering lip from the grief he’d just suffered.

Not a chance in hell that you’re letting him go. He’ll thank you one day.

“F*cking let go, (Y/N),” he shouts, gripping your forearm with his free hand and twisting. “Even in my subconscious, you’re such a d*ck!”

But that day is not today.

“WHO DARES TO TRESPASS IN THE ROYAL DUNGEON!?” A shadow guard’s voice bellows down the hallway that, in real life, leads to Yujin and Hanbin’s bedrooms.

“Sh*t, sh*t, sh*t,” Gyuvin says, pushing Jiwoong down with him to hide in a crevice in the stone wall. There’s another crevice of a similar size a bit farther away which you dart towards, using all your effort to pull a reluctant Yujin to safety with you.

“Owww,” Yujin whines as you shove him out of sight of the shadow guard bumbling down the hallway. You squish his lips together with your free hand, eyes begging him to be quiet. It’s easy to see the message isn’t registering. Instead, you watch in slow motion as Yujin’s pointer finger rises from his side and goes straight into your left ear.

He grins triumphantly as you jump back and, in your discomfort, let go of Yujin’s wrist. He runs out of the cove in the wall and straight into the path of the shadow guard. Gyuvin catches your eye from across the dark hallway-- fear apparent as he looks to you for a new game plan.

“Whoah, this looks SO real,” Yujin marvels as the shadow guard breaks out in a sprint towards him. You gasp in horror as the giant figure crashes into Yujin, knocking him to the ground-- the back of his head hitting the cold stone beneath him. He sits up shakily, rubbing the back of his head and then bringing his hand towards his face.

The rich, red sheen of blood dripping from his fingers makes your heart sink to your stomach.

“This... feels so real, too, actually,” Yujin says dazedly as the shadow guard pulls him to his knees by the collar of his shirt. “(Y/N)...? (Y/N), I think I need h--....”

Your gaze fixes back on Gyuvin as you make a fist at him, signaling it's time for an all-out attack. He nods, tapping Jiwoong beside him to get ready. You hold up three fingers, then two, one...

You take the first attack. A gust of wind flies from your palm, but unlike the shadow guards you’d encountered before, this one doesn’t fall to the ground. Instead, it merely teeters before righting itself and turning to face you.

Gyuvin releases a blast of ice next, icicles flying through the air and tearing a hole through the shadow guard’s chest. It’s clear the wound is serious as the guard loses his grip on Yujin, the youngest boy collapsing limply to the ground again.

But much to your horror, the wound in the shadow’s chest begins to mend itself-- the black vapors inside of him growing thicker and thicker by the second.

“Jiwoong-ah, NOW!” You shout as a series of fireballs fly towards the shadow. They rip three separate holes in the guard’s form, finally knocking him backwards. But it’s not enough to vanquish the shadow guard. You need more power and, as the shadow guard’s wounds begin to heal again, you need it fast.

~I think it’s time we acquired a new skill. What do you say, my friend?~

“I think your timing is impeccable, Arsène,” you praise, closing your eyes as you feel a new source of power surge through you. You extend your arms, an immeasurable amount of flower petals flying from your palms and attaching to the shadow guard.

New Skill Unlocked: In Bloom ˚❀༉‧₊

The guard sinks to the ground as he’s buried alive in flower petals and you run to Yujin, who’s staring wide-eyed up at you— one hand still cradling the wound on his head.

“Yujin-ah,” Gyuvin calls as he and Jiwoong land next to you. “Are you okay? Are you dizzy?”

Yujin shakes his head innocently. “N-no…”

“Which question was that an answer to?” Jiwoong asks, brow furrowed in concern.

“I’m okay, I think,” Yujin responds. You gently detach his hand from the back of his head and bring it toward you in the dim light, finding more fresh blood on his fingers. He looks up at you, much more scared than before. “What’s happening?”

You take his blood-stained hand and pull him to his feet. “You’re going to be okay, Yujinnie. I promise.”

“But—,” Yujin starts to protest as Gyuvin interrupts him.

“I think we should take a look around, (Y/N),” your right-hand man suggests, wrapping an arm supportively around the youngest’s shoulders. He gestures to the incapacitated guard on the ground, “Ya know, while we have the chance?”

You nod decisively. “I think you’re right, Binnie. Let’s tread carefully— stay behind me.”

You take a deep breath as you follow the direction of the loudest screams: they’re coming from where Yujin’s room is. As you approach, you find metal prison bars running vertically in the cement doorway, revealing a Metaverse version of your maknae. He’s wearing matching dark grey and white striped shirt and pants, hunched over a grey, sleight desk as the sound of furious pencil scribbles echo off the damp walls.

“Is that--... Is that me?” Yujin whispers, pushing you aside so he can get a better look. “Why the hell am I a prisoner!?”

“I think each one of us has a cell just like this,” you say, looking at Gyuvin and Jiwoong. “It might be a reflection of how President Kim sees us: his prisoners.”

Metaverse Yujin puts his pencil down, picking up the finished document in his hand and looking it over. He slides it to the side of the desk, but, as soon as he does, the paper disappears. Metaverse Yujin screams in frustration, slamming his fists on the desk as he grabs another sheet of paper from the pile and continues his maniacal pencil scribbling.

“To think we’re all serving time for crimes that President Kim committed,” Jiwoong shudders, shaking his head in disgust.

“I’d say it’s a pretty good reflection of our reality,” Gyuvin says, looking at you sadly. “It only makes sense our dorm is King Hyunwoo’s dungeon.”

“Hold on. Did you just say President Kim’s crimes?” Yujin asks, a confused frown on his face. “And… King Hyunwoo?”

You watch as Metaverse Yujin has another episode of hysterics. If President Kim thinks Yujin is suffering this much... It’s because he’s personally made sure that he is.

“Yujin-ah!” Yujin calls, knocking on the metal bars with his knuckles. “Over here!”

Metaverse Yujin’s head snaps around, locking eyes with his real-life counterpart. He stands up from his desk-- a wild, frantic look in his eyes as he runs to the metal-barred doorway. Yujin jumps back as the Metaverse Yujin’s bleeding knuckles wrap around the bars, shaking them desperately. “Make it stop! Please, make it f*cking stop!”

“What happened to you, Yujinnie?” Jiwoong asks, eyeing the young prisoner with a concern you hadn’t seen from him in a long time. “Why are you being held captive like this?”

“You don’t have much time,” Metaverse Yujin whispers, trembling as he peers down the hallway. “He’s coming back. I can’t be punished again. I CAN’T!”

“Ssssh, Yujinnie. It’s gonna be okay,” Gyuvin soothes, placing a hand on top of the prisoner’s. “We’re gonna get you out of here!”

Metaverse Yujinnie sinks to the ground in despair. “You can’t... I can’t...”

“But... I can,” Yujin whispers. You look over at him to see that he’s crying again, but this time his tears are different. They’re not helpless. They’re defiant. “I can get you out of here. I can make President Kim pay for what he’s done to you. I... I can make sure I never have to feel like this ever again.”

“Yujin-sshi,” an ominous voice echoes down the hall. Your body tenses and you grab Yujin by the shoulders, shoving him behind you to shield him. “Are you working hard, Yujin-sshi? Are you making something of yourself yet?”

As the figure comes into focus, your lips part in shock. “Manager Sang?”

“You think you can escape the fate that King Hyunwoo chose for you, Yujin-sshi?” Manager Sang mocks as he draws closer. His chest is bound in chains-- a giant lock at the front. “What about you, (Y/N)-sshi? Do you really dare to climb out of the grave you’ve been hiding in this year? Trying to protect your youngest member when it was your carelessness that killed his future in the first place...”

“You--... you’re in on this?” Gyuvin asks, disgusted at the man who’d taken care of you the most throughout your careers. “You were on President Kim’s side this whole time!? How long have you been selling us out for?”

“Since the day I made... the choice. When the King asked me to wrap (Y/N)-sshi’s hands around the wheel that night while he fled the scene, I made the choice,” Manager Sang announces, eyes glowing red. “The choice to call the paparazzi when Jiwoong-sshi’s out at night. The choice to deliver the bribe checks to the media when Gyuvin-sshi schedules another meeting. And the choice to convince the youngest member to sign a contract.”

It’s only now you realize that someone’s hand is gripping into your upper arm, nails digging into your skin. You turn to your right, ready to pry them off before you remember who you’d placed behind you to shield them.

“President Kim knew you would fail, Yujin-sshi,” Manager Sang continues. “Everyone at the company knew you would fail. That’s the only reason the investment was approved in the first place.”

Yujin’s fingers have turned white with how hard they’re gripping you, but the look in his eyes makes you hesitant to interrupt him-- no matter how painful it is for you. He’s panting heavily in an attempt to catch his breath and, before you know it, he’s started screaming.

“(Y/N)...” Gyuvin says softly, his gaze falling to your arm. A stream of blood has begun trickling down your arm past Yujin’s fingers.

You shake your head. You’ll just have to power through it.

“And, just on the off chance that you really wouldn’t fail, President Kim asked me to help take some measures to ensure that you did,” Manager Sang says with a satisfied smile. “President Kim needed my help. He always needs my help. So, I asked you for your schedule at the beginning of the week: how else would Total Control have known to plan such a bombshell of a meeting for ZeroBaseOne just minutes before your audition, Yujin-sshi?”

“SHUT UP!” Yujin shouts behind you. His hand finally leaves your arm, starting to hit the concrete wall next to him with his fists. “EVERYONE JUST SHUT UP!”

NO CAN DO, FINE SIR. THERE’S SOMETHING I MUST MAKE YOU PRIVY TO: I AM ZORRO, MASKED SWORDSMAN AND YOUR NEW PARTNER IN THIS QUEST FOR JUSTICE.

“WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT!?” Yujin shouts, crouching down to the ground-- trying to find any semblance of reality he can.

THOUGH THE BURDEN OF GREAT PURPOSE IS A MIGHTY ONE, WE WILL BEAR THE WEIGHT TOGETHER. IT’S TIME TO TAKE BACK YOUR LIFE... COMMENCE THE FIGHT!

Jiwoong gasps as a mask begins to form on Yujin’s face-- the material fusing with his skin as it has each time before. You wish your youngest member didn’t have to feel this pain or join the dangerous fight you accidentally stumbled into this week. It had always been your instinct to continue to protect him, no matter how much he resented you.

SSchrip...

New Confidant Unlocked: Magician *ੈ Han Yujin

But after seeing him promise Metaverse Yujin to stop the pain he’s been feeling, you know for sure that Yujin has grown into the man you’d all hoped he would. He didn’t need to be shielded from the truth. In fact, he might be crucial in helping you expose it.

Yujin is still doubled over, a new mask resting across his eyes. You can’t help but smile when you see the bunny ears on each side.

“If you’re all done messing around,” Manager Sang suddenly says behind you, “I’d like to kill you so I can collect my check.”

Jiwoong steps forward, raising his hand as he prepares to throw a fireball, but something restrains his arm before he can. Yujin smirks, releasing Jiwoong’s hand from his grip.

Step aside, Hyung... I'll handle this. ‧ ₊ ✫ ˚・

Jiwoong makes room for Yujin at the front, folding his arms across his chest with a laugh. “Less work for me.”

New Skill Unlocked: Hyung Card ೀ

When Yujin takes center, you’re confused when he doesn’t raise his hands in the direction of Manager Sang like you, Gyuvin and Jiwoong usually do to use your powers. Instead, he brings them together, fingers loosely interlacing as his palms meet. He stares at his thumbs, then up at Manager Sang without blinking.

“Oh sh*t,” Gyuvin says with a grin as a strange, purple fog forms above Yujin and slowly engulfs Manager Sang. Yujin finally blinks and the cloud lets up, revealing your manager writhing on the ground in a confused and panicked state.

“Too cute,” Manager Sang whispers over and over, hands covering his eyes. “He’s just too cute. Too cute. TOO CUTE!”

“Wait, WHAT!?” Yujin shouts, stamping his foot. “Did I just brainwash him with... cuteness!?”

New Skill Unlocked: Super Aegyo ₊˚⊹♡

The three of you very poorly stifle your laughter as Yujin turns around to glare at you. His mask now has glowing pink cheeks and little heart-shaped bubbles flying from the eye holes. You have to look away from all the cuteness before it brainwashes you, too.

“Oh, COME ON!” Yujin yells with a pout. “I’m not cute! I’m not a baby! You saw how fast I took him down!”

“You can sulk about it later, Yujinnie,” you say, grabbing his shoulders and turning him back around. “How about you finish this?”

“Really?” Yujin asks, brow raised in surprise. “You think I can?”

“I know you can,” you respond with a smile. “And I know you’re upset with your power, but the truth is... I think it might be the strongest one yet.”

He smiles back at you. “Thanks.”

Bringing his palms together again and focusing his eyes on Manager Sang, another cloud of purple fog swallows up your manager until a soft plea can be heard from within it.

“Please, please stop,” Manager Sang begs as Yujin blinks away the fog. “I--... I can’t do this anymore. I... I surrender.”

You approach him cautiously, Gyuvin, Yujin and Jiwoong following suit. “You... surrender?”

“Yes, I--... I can change! I’ve worked for King Hyunwoo... President Kim... for so long. I remember when you all were just kids still waiting to debut,” he says, a soft, reminiscent smile forming on his lips. “I knew you’d be successful. I knew it from the moment you stepped on stage at your first FanCon. None of the groups before you at Total Control ever had enough support to have a FanCon. But you did within just three months.”

“Then why have you been doing this?” Gyuvin asks, distrust still palpable in his voice. “Playing President Kim’s lackey?”

“Last year. After... everything happened,” Manager Sang says with a regretful sigh. “I handed in my resignation letter. But my wife had just had a baby that same month and... our baby was very ill when she was born. President Kim promised to give me a raise if I continued working and reported all of your information back to him. For many reasons, I couldn’t say no.”

“But we trusted you,” Jiwoong says quietly. “We trusted you and you... You’ve just been helping President Kim hurt us? You could’ve done the right thing at any point this year. Can you really sleep at night knowing the harm you’ve caused?”

“I’ll regret it for the rest of my life,” Manager Sang answers after a long moment. “After my involvement with staging the crime scene, I was at the mercy of President Kim. If I hadn’t done that... I truly wish I hadn’t played along for once. I’m sorry for the harm I’ve caused you, (Y/N)-sshi. I’m sorry for the harm I’ve continued to cause you all.”

You nod solemnly. “I wish you could tell the truth now in the real world. But I don’t see how that would be possible.”

“M-maybe... I--... C-can...” Manager Sang’s voice becomes choppy, his form appearing to glitch. He continues to glitch in and out until finally fading away.

Gyuvin runs his hand through the space which was previously occupied by Manager Sang, finding only air in his place. “What the hell was that?”

“I’m not sure,” you say, brow furrowing as you think of the implications of the events that just unfolded. Had Metaverse Manager Sang been a projection of President Kim’s cognition like everything else in the Metaverse has been... Or was it Manager Sang’s own cognition that had apologized to them just now? “I think we need to--.”

Thud.

“Yujin-ah!” Jiwoong shouts as your youngest topples over onto the cold, damp cement. You reach your hand out, shielding Yujin’s head from taking any more damage tonight.

“Yujin-ah,” you call, the three of you moving him into a more comfortable position. “Can you hear me? We’re going home now, okay?”

As soon as you say the words, the red haze around you begins to dissipate. The dark prison walls turn plastered and beige again-- the doors to each of your rooms reappearing in the place of the vertical metal bars.

“WE DO AWAIT YOUR HASTY RETURN. PLEASE BE ADVISED THAT ANY INJURY SUSTAINED IN THE METAVERSE MAY CARRY OVER INTO THE REAL WORLD. TAKE CARE OF YOUR HEALTH.”

“Is--... Is she watching us?” Gyuvin asks with a frown.

“Everything okay out there guys?”

Fuck. You totally forgot Hanbin was still in the kitchen.

“We need to get Yujin to his room right now,” you urge, looking at your youngest member sprawled out on the floor of the foyer.

Both Gyuvin and Jiwoong conveniently avoid your gaze…

Mini-Decision: Someone’s gotta carry Yujin. Will you say “Ugh, Fine” or “Woongie SO Strong”? ~

Author’s Note: PLEASE only choose “ugh, fine” if you are Yujin’s real age/a minor! Obviously Yujin is 18 in this fic, but that’s just for story purposes. ONLY MINORS choose this option if you’d like to unlock Yujin’s ending at the end! This choice has a hint of romance so a reminder that this fic isn’t real, Yujin is just a character in this story, the romance is all age appropriate and JUST FICTION. Thank you for being respectful and kind!

If you chose “Ugh, Fine”, read below:

With a heavy sigh, you grab Yujin’s left arm and point to Jiwoong to grab the other one. Gyuvin supports him and, together they lift Yujin onto your back. “Stay here and distract Hanbinnie,” you whisper, rushing down the hall as fast as you can and into Yujin’s room.

“We’re... Um...” You hear Gyuvin call to Hanbin in the kitchen, “Changing! Yeah. We’re just changing.”

“Oh for f*ck’s sake,” Jiwoong mutters.

“... In the hallway?” Hanbin responds confusedly, footsteps pattering towards the foyer as you lock the door behind you. “You’re wearing the same clothes as you were before.”

“I meant metaphorically,” Gyuvin clarifies with a nervous laugh. What follows is a loud smack and a mumbled, “Ow.”

You sit down on the edge of Yujin’s bed, unwrapping his arms from around your neck and situating him so that he’s propped up on his pillows. He looks so peaceful resting like this and you wish you could just let him sleep, but you need to wake him up to check if he has a concussion first.

“Yujin-ah,” you say softly, brushing a lock of hair from his eyes. His lashes start to flutter against his cheeks until they’re staring up at you. He sits up quickly-- too quickly and you gently nudge him back down to a reclined position. “Don’t move too fast. You’ll get dizzy. How do you feel?”

“Was it real?” He asks excitedly, stars in his eyes. “The dungeon? The magic powers? Manager Sang?”

You press your lips together, conflicted. You could still tell Yujin it wasn’t real. That he hit his head running to the door and must’ve had a crazy dream. That everything was the way it had always been. That he could go back to passively disliking you and maybe working out a new deal with President Kim and Manager Sang. That he won’t get hurt again...

“Yeah,” you admit finally. “It was all real.”

“I knew it,” Yujin says with a grin, folding his arms across his chest satisfactorily. “I knew you wouldn’t lie to me. You need my help, obviously”

You smile back at him. “I do need your help actually. But, more importantly, you need your help.”

Yujin’s smile fades as he looks down at his lap. He doesn’t say anything, but his silence alone confirms the truth.

“I’m so sorry, Yujinnie,” you say, placing a hand on his wrist. “I wish you didn’t have to go through any of this. I wish we all could’ve stayed as happy as we always were forever. I’d do anything to go back and change it. Maybe now I can finally make things right... and with you by my side again.”

Much to your surprise, your typically sarcastic and affection-avoidant maknae places his hand on top of yours. “It’s not your fault, (Y/N). I didn’t know that before. But I do now.”

“Oh, it’s really okay--.”

“It’s not,” Yujin cuts you off. He’s clearly a bit uncomfortable with the sincerity he’s having to display, but you appreciate it nonetheless. “And I’m sorry.”

“That actually means a lot to me,” you say with a smile, which Yujin happily returns. “I missed talking to you, kiddo.”

“Oh come on! We’re almost the exact same age. I’m NOT a kiddo,” he corrects with a groan. He then looks at his lap, a little blush on his cheeks. “And I’ll prove it to you.”

Your bond with Yujin has grown stronger. +1 Yujin Point. Please add +1 Yujin Point to your scoresheet.

“(Y/N), open the door,” Gyuvin whisper-yells as he jiggles the doorknob. You rush over to the door, Jiwoong and Gyuvin almost knocking you over as they barge inside.

・゜゜ . . * ✧･ﾟ・ ✧･ﾟ: ・゜゜・．

If you chose "Woongie SO Strong", read below:

“Oh my goodness,” you coo quietly, grabbing Jiwoong’s right bicep and squeezing. “I didn’t realize how big your arms were!”

“Wh—… What?” Jiwoong stammers as you continue to feel up his arm. “Me?”

“Woongie soooooo strong,” you sing-song, batting your eyelashes at him for full effect.

Unfortunately for Jiwoong, you know exactly how to play to his weakness and his chest begins to puff at your flattering. “I— I guess, yeah. Yeah! I kind of totally am actually.”

Gyuvin snorts, turning away from you to keep from ruining your evil plot.

“So stroooong and SO handsome,” you add, just to knock it out of the park.

“I’ve heard this a lot in my lifetime actually, but,” Jiwoong replies, one eyebrow piquing at you charismatically, “I never thought I’d hear it from you. Maybe we could talk more about how handsome and strong you think I am over coffee or—.”

“—SO strong you could carry a full-sized Yujin!” You finish. Trap successful.

Jiwoong’s previously seductive expression turns quickly to disappointment. “Aw,” he grumbles, removing his arm from your grasp. “I thought you’d finally seen the light.”

“The light being…?” Gyuvin asks, patting Jiwoong’s shoulder comfortingly.

“Me,” Jiwoong answers, brushing Gyuvin’s hand off and fixing his shirt; trying to re-establish his dignity. “I thought you’d finally seen me.”

Your eyes widen in surprise at the sincerity of his last sentence. Jiwoong is surprised by it too and he coughs awkwardly to distract from it.

“Okay, okay. I’ll do it,” Jiwoong relents, stooping down and picking up Yujin all by himself.

“Holy sh*t, you actually are kind of strong,” you marvel a bit at his unexpected strength.

Jiwoong shrugs as he carries Yujin down the hall to his room. “I know. Blew your chance though.”

Your bond with Jiwoong has grown stronger. +1 Jiwoong Point. Please add +1 Jiwoong Point to your scoresheet.

As Jiwoong shuts Yujin’s door behind him, you look up at Gyuvin confusedly and whisper, “He’s just joking around, right?”

“Kids, what’re you doing out there?” Hanbin asks as you hear the oil in the skillet slowly stop sizzling. Entering the hallway, his brow furrows as he looks around. “Where’d Yujinnie go? Didn’t I tell you to calm him down?”

“We did,” Gyuvin answers quickly. “In fact, we got him so calm that he’s now unconscious.”

Hanbin’s eyes bulge at this. “Excuse me!?”

You sigh, looking up at the ceiling and shaking your head. You should’ve made Gyuvin carry Yujin instead.

“I mean, he’s just taking a nap,” Gyuvin thankfully corrects his previous blunder.

“But—… I just finished dinner,” Hanbin responds sadly. With a sigh, he continues, “I understand though. It’s been a hard day for him. You guys’ll still eat, right?”

“Of course!” Gyuvin exclaims as you nod enthusiastically beside him. “Um, could you just give us a couple minutes though?”

“Oh, uh… Sure,” Hanbin agrees confusedly. “Why?”

“I have to… Give… (Y/N)… something,” Gyuvin improvs absolutely seamlessly. “Yeah, I have to give (Y/N) something now or else I’ll forget to do it later! We’ll be riiiiight back.”

“Oookaaay,” Hanbin says with a sigh as you and Gyuvin run suspiciously down the hall. “I’ll just bring a bowl to Gunwook in the meantime, I guess.”

・゜゜ . . * ✧･ﾟ・ ✧･ﾟ: ・゜゜・．

All Continue Reading Below

JUNE 21st -- NIGHT

After eventually scarfing down beef bulgogi like it's your occupation, the four members of the Phantom Thieves sit on Yujin’s bed-- gathered around your youngest member like he’s the baby Jesus in his manger. It’s a bit of a funny sight.

“Are you sure you're alright, Yujinnie?” Gyuvin asks, turning Yujin’s head so he can see the back of it. “It’s healed a lot. And you can’t even see the indents on (Y/N)’s arm anymore… But still. That was way too close of a call.”

“Way too close,” you agree, bottom lip tucking between your teeth in thought. “If injuries we get in the Metaverse can carry over to the real world… What if we had a way to heal them while we were still in there?”

“You mean, like, medicine and bandages and stuff? Can you bring real world objects into the Metaverse like that?” Jiwoong asks.

“I don’t see why not,” you reply, tilting your head to the side as you consider it. “We’re able to bring our phones in with us. Maybe anything that’s in our hands or pockets is fair game. I think we need to stock up on whatever we can get.”

“So… what happens now?” Yujin asks and it’s a very good question. “We’re—… We’re gonna take down President Kim? Through the… Metaverse, or whatever? How do we even do that?”

“I don’t really know yet,” you admit honestly. “But I think we’re getting closer to finding the answer. All thanks to the newest member of the Phantom Thieves!”

A reluctant smile turns up one corner of Yujin’s lips. “Yeah, yeah, yeah. I guess I had to do one thing well tonight.”

“We’ll fix that, too,” you say and you mean it. “We’ll get you back in school and we’ll get all your debt paid, okay? Everyone’s debt will get paid.”

“We’re gonna need to plant some money trees, then,” Gyuvin says, scratching the back of his neck. “We can’t stockpile meds and first aid sh*t and then pay Yujinnie’s university debt on our own. Jiwoong hyung’s in the negative over there after last night.”

“Hey, I have a little bit of money left,” Jiwoong says, pulling out his wallet and opening it. It’s completely empty. “F*ck, did I lose my ID too?”

“Gyubinnie’s right,” Yujin says with a nod. “We need money. And as the news and best member of the Phantom Thieves, I’m about to make a suggestion that no one will like…”

“No…” You whisper.

“You can’t mean,” Gyuvin whispers.

“I think we should try to get Ricky hyung on board,” Yujin says definitively; a chorus of groans echoing into the air. “I mean, do you guys have any better ideas for quick cash?”

“But Ricky hates me,” you whine, leaning your forehead on Jiwoong’s shoulder.

“To be fair, everyone basically hates you,” Yujin says with a shrug. Curse your savage maknae. “But, once they know the truth, they won’t anymore. Probably. Ricky included. Probably.”

You sigh defeatedly. “I guess if there’s really no better option… It’s settled. We’ll go talk to Ricky at his Club Jeune Et Riche on Friday.”

“Oooh,” Jiwoong hums, shaking his head. “No can do. We’ll be at the company.”

Gyuvin smacks Jiwoong so hard, he goes flying backward off the bed. “If you don’t shut your mouth--.”

“I already know about that actually,” you say, chewing your cheek. “Courtesy of our smart-mouthed maknae.”

Yujin smiles sheepishly. “Sorry. Again.”

“I’m sorry, (Y/N),” Gyuvin says, looking at you shamefully. “I wanted you to hear it from me, but I... Guess I fumbled the bag.”

You’re not mad at Gyuvin either. Or any of your members (except Hao-- you’re always mad at Hao). You just feel sad. And left out. And hurt. And happy that maybe you didn’t ruin their lives completely. And okay, maybe a bit mad.

But a leader must trudge on.

“It’s okay. I’ll go talk to Ricky on Friday by myself then,” you announce, biting your lip. “I just can’t imagine he’d even give me the time of day...”

Jiwoong clears his throat awkwardly, climbing back up onto Yujin’s bed. “Well, what if he didn’t know it was you he was talking to?”

You raise an eyebrow at him curiously. “What are you suggesting?”

“What if... American heiress and art collector, Rebecca Song, paid him a visit instead?” Jiwoong suggests with a grin.

“Who’s Rebecca Song?” Gyuvin asks confusedly. “Or... is that the--... That’s the point, isn’t it? Okay, I get it now.”

“Some acting work for (Y/N)? Don’t you have the lowest rated web drama of all time or something?” Yujin muses, smiling evilly as he considers it. “Make sure you film it.”

It’s not a bad suggestion though. You like to think you’ve gotten better at acting since your web drama fiasco in 2019 (a romantic comedy set in a post-apocalyptic world overrun by clowns instead of zombies), but you have no proof of that. Still, Ricky could very well slam the door at just the sight of your face...

What do you wanna do, Player?

⁺⋆✰ Chapter Choice ✰⋆⁺

It's your decision, Player. Will you visit Ricky as...

CHOICE 1: Yourself

CHOICE 2: Rebecca Song: Esteemed Foreign Art Collector

14 notes · View notes

lightlycareless · 1 year

Text

Pillow Fort — Valentine's day special.

A/N: Hello everyone!

As I stated before, I was working on a small (heh) valentine's day special one-shot for Naoya just because :> I got the prompt from a list here in tumblr, unfortunately, I don't remember where...

Anyways, this is intended to be quite fluffy, sweet, and a bit fun. Just something different from the usual things I post x.x soooo no major warnings here, asides from the fact that:

This is and AU and both reader and Naoya are kids here. There are OC's, intended to be reader's siblings, their mother, father, as well as Naoya's siblings and mother. It's mainly a one-sided crush from Naoya, he's silly and he's really trying lol that is until... 👀

Also, this is kind of set in the same universe as the Halloween prompt I wrote a while ago (if you'd like to read it, you can find it here) I can't believe I already want to write a sequel to this hahahah I guess you'll know about what when you read it.

Now, without any further ado, happy reading!

It all started with a "Would you like to do something fun this weekend, Naoya?" from his mother to set off the chain of events that lead him to where he was in this precise moment: standing before the entrance of the L/N estate, carrying his belongings (a change of clothes for 2 days, pajamas, gifts, and everything else that pertained to a hygienic care) while anxiously waiting for someone to receive him after ringing the bell.

Naoya was first unable to put his finger down on the possible reason behind her question, or admit that he was uninterested, for he already had plans for said weekend: Since most of his brothers were going to be away due to some camping trip endorsed by their school, it meant that he was going to have the entirety of his home for himself to do whatever he wanted, seemingly without scrutiny or repercussions.

He believed he was getting the best deal he could’ve with his circumstances, that is, until Tomoko (his mother) informed him of a sleepover set to occur at the home of the L/N’s—it’s until then that he realizes he’d been conforming for less all this time.

To not say that he was very excited about it, of course—because ever since he first met you back then at that Halloween outing both your families had arranged, you’re all he thinks about.

Through school, lunch, homework, even when hanging out with his favorite cousin Toji, or his best friend Ranta, you’re somehow pulled into the conversation.

The youngest of the two didn’t think much of it, outside of being jealous, since he didn’t like the thought of having to compete for his friend’s attention that you were clearly (unknowingly) hoarding—although that would only be short-lasting, for he’d then realize that the relationship Naoya wanted from you was different than his, and soon became all supportive of it.

The other, however, couldn’t be any more irritated by the frequency of it. He didn’t enjoy partaking in a conversation where a little girl he didn’t even know was to be the center of attention, leading him to wonder if his upcoming baby was going to be as annoying as Naoya is when he’s old enough… or maybe this was solely his cousin’s doing.

Most of Naoya’s conversation circled the same topics: finding ways to get to spend more time with you. Get to know the kind girl that shared his good tastes a bit better—because recognizing his Halloween costume was enough to set you on a pedestal— as well as keeping your (and might as well his) siblings away from foiling his plans once set in motion…

A bothersome obstacle that reminds him to not celebrate his victories before time, not until he gets the definite answer to this important question…

“Will Hinata and Ren be there too?” Naoya asks, justifying it as simply trying to anticipate what to do once there, if he should bring more toys, for example, to share.

But Tomoko, being his mother all of his life and having raised more children before him, had developed a 6th sense that allowed her to see right through him and was able to identify the true reason behind his inquisitiveness: he was trying to ensure the sole attention of the girl he likes, as well as hoping to keep some distance from the kids he thought to be his natural competition (whom he unsurprisingly, didn’t get along with… much to her dismay)

And in a way, she was excited about the whole ordeal too—she just couldn’t help it! Ever since she caught wind of his sudden interest towards Y/N, she had done nothing but gush about it with Minako, your mother.

The endless possibilities of their youngests getting along, spending time together, and who knows…? Maybe something more down the road! Was something that made them coo at the young children whenever they were around.

It was undeniable that you and Naoya were a cute pair before their eyes, and oh… wouldn’t it be wonderful to dress them up in matching outfits?

Either way, after rightfully perceiving his intentions, she decides to provide him with a big, warm smile on her lips and a cheerful voice, the announcement she knows is to make the rest of his week enjoyable:

“No, they’re going on the same trip as your brothers—it’s just Y/N and you for the whole weekend”

To say that he was over the moon would be an understatement.

He was ecstatic!

But Naoya had to play it cool, even going as far as appearing seemingly disappointed by the affirmation of your sibling’s absence —he had to be careful with his cards, of course! He doesn’t want to wear his heart on his sleeve just yet, not when there’s a possibility he could be made fun of for them… or confirm if you even felt the same way as him.

And Tomoko understood his worries and shyness all too well.

After all, Naoya had never been the kind of kid to open up with others, at least not unprompted. And when he does, it is usually to show his annoyance either towards his siblings or father.

Yet, even with his reserved nature, she could still see the glint in his eye which truly reflected how thrilled he was for the weekend to arrive.

This was to be in a way, without question, a happy ordeal for everyone involved.

Aside from acknowledging Naoya’s feelings towards you, she was also cognisant of the poor relationship he had with the rest of Minako's kids, which had often led to many awkward, shameful apologies between the two mothers for their respective children’s behavior… ones that they tried their hardest to stop, but just never seemed to catch a break.

And it was amusing to see how they attempted to keep their troubled relationship a secret from them, putting on the act of “getting along” whenever approaching them, as if they hadn’t been quite spiteful towards one another seconds before, or that they wouldn’t figure it out with time!

They gave them the benefit of the doubt at first, thinking their behavior to be nothing more than a phase due to a rocky beginning, but the longer it went on and they continued to act the same, the mothers began to worry that perhaps… Perhaps this was a much more serious manner, one that would grow into their adulthood, and regretfully, continue on with you.

It’s why they were so elated to see that you and Naoya got along regardless of the evidence set before them!

Because Naoya giving up all of his sweets to you to seemingly cheer you up after an unfortunate prank was something one would only do if the other person was of their fondness, right?

Besides, Minako was even willing to confide that in the days after you last saw him, you’d voice a want to see him again, wondering what he’s been up to, or when would the next “outing” be with the Zen’in, completely different from your siblings, whom only seem to abhor his presence, wishing nothing more than to leave from whatever arrangement their parents pulled them into as soon as possible. There’s no denying that the two represented a long-awaited omen of change in this ongoing conflict: the dawning of a friendship between the two and hopefully an inspiring event for all involved. Even if it doesn’t lead to anything more down the road, it’s something that both mothers would either way enjoy watching grow, especially after confiding to one another that they always wanted their kids to be best friends, just as they were.

And in a more personal note, directly from Tomoko herself, she also wished her kids would behave a bit more like Ren and Hinata—their relationship was far more amicable, not like the ones her son’s had, whim by some strange reason, always managed to find a way to antagonize each other: either for the simplest of reasons like eating the last cherry on a cake, to the most outrageous ones such as stealing the other’s allowance. It’s always free for all in the Zen’in estate.

But if she had to pick the two worst, it would have to be Naoya and Naoaki. The youngest, and the oldest.

Naoaki eventually, thankfully, outgrown this part of his life upon entering his teenage years, forcing Naoya to carry on with the torch of irritating the other. Still, it would be a lie if he didn’t admit to occasionally entertaining his old habits from time to time.

The reason behind their actions eluded Tomoko, although she eventually came to the conclusion that it was more of a case of jealousy (still inexcusable, but the poor mother had to rationalize something!) more than anything else— with their altercations curiously growing more and more frequent after joining the L/N family on halloween…

Which leads to another question popping up inside Naoya's mind:

“Is Naoaki going too?”

“Oh, no” Tomoko says as she lightly shakes her head “He’s not going—he’s… a bit too old for these things” It’s what she comes up with to essentially avoid saying they're going to create trouble at the L/N estate is placed together, because being completely honest, it's the only thing that could come out of their relationship at this moment.

Besides, she also doesn’t think it’s right for him to be spending the night over at a house with kids much younger than him, unwittingly forcing him with the burden of looking after them, less when he could be doing something much more fun with his own friends.

However, this is something that Naoya doesn’t deduce at the moment (and might never do), instead, he opts to believe that his mother is doing his annoying older brother a huge favor by saving him the humiliation of disclosing that he doesn’t have any friends to hang out with because nobody likes him—his mother was just compassionate like that.

Well, once the situation with Naoaki was set, so was the one with the rest of his brothers, because just as it was stated before, they would be out of the house for the weekend.

With the exception of Naofumi, of course, who was both too young to partake in their excursion, as well as falling victim to a cold which bound him to his bed until he got better.

Naoya couldn’t help but feel bad for the constant misfortune his not-so-older brother always seemed to be riddled with, which is why he was more than willing to keep up the promise he made with his mother as they made their way to your home.

“Promise me to have fun, for you and Naofumi, ok?” Tomoko said as she softly grabbed his hand and guided him towards the entrance to the L/N estate “Also, don’t forget to give Y/N-mama the food Auntie Junko made for her as a thanks for the gifts, because it has to be refrigerated as soon as possible”

Tomoko wishes she was able to personally give the thank you gift to Minako, however, she knew that as soon as she stepped inside she would be tempted to stay and chat, and that’s something she’s not able to afford as of this moment since she left the newly mother-of-two to temporarily care for her sick boy while she brings Naoya over.

It’s not that she considered Junko to be her first option to help her out, in fact, she had already anticipated and prepared one of the staff members to take on her role while away so she could have a bit of time with your mother, but her sister-in-law is the kind of person to believe that if she’s not doing something, she’s wasting her time, and there’s no swaying her out of it once her mind is set.

Not the two beautiful twin babies she now has to take care of was enough to convince her, but if that’s what she wants to keep on doing to not feel as she’s slacking off, then she’ll leave her to it.

Aside from wanting to chat with Minako for a few minutes, Tomoko also wanted to inform her of the small envelope inside it…

Well, she just hopes that Minako is able to notice it before storing the contents away.

So fast forward to the greatly anticipated night, to the moment Tomoko left Naoya by the entrance—not without kissing and hugging him goodbye, much to the kid’s embarrassment—before going back home to her other beloved child as soon as possible.

Naoya quickly turned into a wide-eyed, anxious young boy with a thundering heart while intently staring at the wooden door before him, awaiting for the moment someone would come to receive him.

He didn’t know who was to greet him—you, perhaps? Oh, his heart skips a beat at the mere thought of seeing you already! Were you as excited as him too?

If that were the case, Naoya can’t help but also wonder what you’d think of his attire for the day, the black sentai ranger hoodie he got for christmas, the same one he’s been holding on from wearing just so you’d be the first one to see him in it —outside of his mom, of course, who like any doting parent asked him to model it for her.

But if he was to be greeted by your mother, then he guesses he wouldn’t mind it either. He needs to get along with her after all! Especially after allowing him to come over, but above all, because she’s your mother and he needs to make a good impression with her, as well as your father.

Naoya’s thoughts are promptly interrupted by the soft click coming from the other side of the door.

His heart, which has done nothing more but to beat strongly and steadily against his chest, begins to resound in his ears as he swallows down his growing anticipation, the consequence of the thrilling prospect of his introduction.

Any second now, the door will swing open and with it, revealing the person behind it.

He’s already been here before, seen you and your mother countless times as well, yet, he can’t help but nervously wonder who it will be? Who will be the one to receive him?

Fortunately for him, that’s an answer that comes not so long after as the entrance begins to unfurl, the light from inside falling on his eyes, forcing him to blink a few times to adjust his vision onto the dark silhouette of the person before him, and then… she appears.

Your mother.

“Naoya-kun!” Minako chirps, a wide smile on her face, as soon her eyes fall on the short black-haired boy standing before her. “Welcome! We were expecting you, I hope I didn’t make you wait that long!”

“N-no, I just… got here” he murmurs. Naoya is elated to be received in such a positive manner from your manner, yet, a sting of disappointment manages to make way into his chest as he secretly attempts to lean his head to the side, observing past your mother and into the hallway, undeniably hoping to catch a glimpse of you just a few feet away—sadly, you were nowhere to be seen.

“Well, I don’t intend on keeping you out here in the cold any longer! Come on in” Minako steps to the side, gesturing him inside, which he obliges to after giving her a quick nod.

Once inside and after your mother closes the door, she turns around and refers to Naoya once more.

“Well, welcome officially to my home. Now, let me help you with your things” She says as she attempts to reach for his backpack, only for him to step back before she even moved more than a few inches.

"N-no… I'm fine" he shakes his head, clenching his belongings tighter to him. After watching such a demonstration, Minako didn’t need to be told to not insist again. Taking his reaction as being overprotective over his belongings, and that, she’ll respect.

Yet, things don’t always seem to be what they are with Naoya, and this was to be another one of those cases.

Naoya wanted to appear strong and independent before her, to give her the impression that he's capable of taking care of himself, and subsequently, you—he truly intended to be meticulous when it came to showing off he was a good influence for your life during his stay at the L/N home.

If only he knew Minako already thought so…

"But my mom wanted me to give you this" he informs as he hands over the brown paper bag, Minako carefully grabbing it and taking a quick peek inside: it’s nothing more than a glass rectangle container filled with what she assumed to be pastries, and a white envelope on top. "It's from auntie Junko. She says thank you for the gifts"

"Oh! That? Ah, she shouldn't have… it's nothing really" Minako says as a light pink color flusters her cheeks.

And it really was nothing, the gifts she gave Junko were the minimum of what Eiichi and she thought she deserved, after going through so many difficult pregnancies… She finally obtained what she wanted the most: children.

And not just any child, but two! «What a blessing» is all that Minako could think of the whole ordeal, wishing her nothing more but prosperity in this new stage in her life.

However, the fact that she hasn’t been able to visit and wish it in person is a sorrow for her, but is able to console herself by remembering that the first weeks after giving birth are the important when it comes to the mother’s recovery and the development of the babies, it’s why she instead, as a way to make up for her absence, decided to send her gifts.

Either way, she knows very well there’s no use in reeling in her remorse when it was only a matter of time before she’ll be able to visit the new family, and oh, she can’t wait but to dote on Junko’s adorable baby daughters!

Will they have her distinguishable scowl? Maybe, maybe not. All that she knows is that they have Ogi’s hair color, or somewhat similar to it, that they were healthy in every sense of the word, and that their names were Maki, the oldest, and Mai, the youngest.

Still, seeing a miniature version of her trademark frown was enough to make her giggle, and that’s something she can’t miss.

But until then, she’ll worry about the adorable kid before her.

"Well, now I think I've kept you at the entrance long enough, let's head back to the kitchen and put this in the fridge, hm?" Minako says as she softly pats his head. A gesture that has Naoya’s cheeks slightly burning before giving her a nod and following her lead into their new destination.

“Are you excited for tonight? Because I know Y/N-chan is" she begins as they walk deeper into the estate.

“She is?? —Err, I mean, yeah… I am” Naoya blurted, before immediately composing himself and putting on his cool act back on. Your quick mention is enough to have him filled with the same excitement he imagines you to have, to the point he falters with his words. “Thank you for having me”

“Oh, it was nothing” she responds “I like it when my children have friends over! Besides, don’t tell Y/N that I told you this, but she’s been wanting to have a sleepover with you for a while now”

“Re—really?” There’s no hiding it now, Naoya’s heart was soaring.

“Yes, but this has to be a secret just between the two of us, ok?” Minako winks with a smile as Naoya nods. “She didn’t want to make her other friends, or siblings, jealous”

“I promise!” he reassures her, and your mother only chuckles.

As they went deeper into the estate, a sweet smell began to permeate the air, set to indicate the closeness to their destination—It was such a potent aroma that at one point it became all Naoya could think of as he continued to walk behind your mother.

It was a combination of scents, each one complimenting each other perfectly, and yet, no matter how much he tried to isolate each smell, he was still unable to distinguish what they were… outside of mouth watering meals that he couldn’t wait to see (and hopefully) taste if your mother so permitted it.

Thankfully, it wouldn’t take long before they finally arrived at the kitchen, which by that point, Naoya's curiosity—and hunger—were past its limits, to the point that he didn’t even notice the figure on the deep end of the kitchen waiting for him.

That is, until his conscience is pulled back to reality thanks to the interjection of a familiar shrill voice calling out for him… one that has his heart pounding loudly against his chest once more, after identifying the one behind it.

"Noya-kun!"

It was you, with big sparkly eyes, and a grin on your lips, waving at him.

"You're here!" You excitedly cheered from your spot, just beside the wooden dining table, stepping on a small stool which allowed you to loom over said table and work on the mix inside the bowl before you— or at least that’s what he assumed due to the small purple apron you were wearing, as well as the wooden spoon on your right hand covered with said brown mixture.

You don’t let more than a few seconds to pass before you jump down the stool, leaving the spoon back into the bowl, and rush to his side, wrapping your arms around him—as much as you could, for he was still carrying his things— as soon as you’re nothing more than a few inches away and pulling him into a welcoming hug.

The first thing that he notices at your closeness, besides how happy you seem to receive him in your home as well as the weight of your mother’s eyes glued on him which causes him to be nothing more than embarrassed, is the small smudge of chocolate at the corner of your lips. Evidence of a sneaky tasting from the brownie mix your mother asked you to look after while she left to pick him up—he knew of your affinity for sweets, so to see you like this wasn't a surprise, if anything, he found it both cute and relieving, for it meant that he’d done the right decision by bringing mochi instead of overwhelming you by gifting you more chocolate.

The second thing he notices, and perhaps what makes his heart sing the most outside of your mere presence, is your hairstyle: specifically your 2 ponytails, styled from the lower part of your head and falling on each side of your neck. Sure, he thought you looked cute—always did, no matter what— but that wasn't what caught his interest or his elation.

What made his heart skip a beat were the scrunchies you were wearing, because those were the same ones he got you as a gift a while ago!

In fact, Naoya still recalls the moment he got them.

It was during one of the (rare) occasions his mother goes grocery shopping. And for some strange reason, perhaps fate wanted it that way, Naoya decided to tag along for the day.

While they passed through one of the many aisles pertaining to the beauty section, he saw them.

At first he didn’t think much of them, outside of how they looked soft to the touch and that their pastel colors were much better than the bright, harsh on the eyes, fluorescent ones next to them, with his interest soon returning onto finding the next item on the grocery list.

But that wasn’t to be the end of it, and when Tomoko caught his gaze on them at the corner of her eye, a plan was quick to form in her mind. One that made him realize his mother was on the same side as him, and the uncountable doors of possibilities this new alliance brought him.

"Y/N would look cute with them, wouldn't she?"

And look cute you did, his mother was never wrong after all.

"Oh, Y/N… did you eat from the mix?" Minako said upon noticing the smudges on your face, pressing her lips into a thin line as she slightly frowns.

"...no" you murmur back with a telltale pout, completely unaware of the evidence on your cheeks. "I didn't!"

"Of course not" she giggles, taking a napkin from a nearby counter and walking over to you, crimson in your cheeks upon realizing what gave you away. "I hope you didn't eat it from the same spoon you were blending the mix with, or too much for that matter…"

"No! I got my own spoon!" you corrected, embracing the fact that you’ve been caught. "So I wouldn’t con-ta-mi-nate!" You sing and Minako chuckles at the familiar jingle. It seems that whatever Ren has been learning at school began to rub off on you because he’d been singing the same tune for the past few days now. "Mama, can I play with Noya-kun now that he’s here?"

"Sure, just be sure to take his items to your room before playing" At that, Naoya blinks. Wait, is he staying in your room?

"Ok!" You nod before turning over to him with a grin "Follow me, Noya-kun! I want to show you my room!"

Naoya doesn't need to be told twice to do as instructed, less when he didn’t have much of an option to choose from since you grabbed his hand and swiftly guided him through the halls and onto your bedroom, not even giving him the chance to dismiss your mother appropriately, worrying him that this might leave a bad impression.

Well, Minako didn’t really care much, not when she still had dinner to prepare.

This wouldn’t be the first time he’d been at your house, however, this was to be the first time he’d seen your room, and that thought alone was enough to ignite his curiosity and excitement.

Not even when you visited him at the Zen’in estate (which he both enjoyed and suffered, for it meant that sometimes you’d be playing with his brothers) could compare to the joy this chain of events brought him.

Eventually both you and Naoya arrive at the door he figures to be the entrance to your bedroom due to the Pokémon stickers plastered all over it, alongside the small sunflower sticker and a lotus flower which only made him roll his eyes upon realizing whom they represented.

Still, he doesn't allow their implicit presence ruin his mood as he goes on to wonder if the next time he's here, you’ll allow him to place a sticker of his own. If so… which one?

Well, that's something he'll have plenty of time to decide once he's back home, for now, he wants to take advantage of this opportunity and get to know you better through seeing your bedroom for the first time.

Thus, his mind begins to machinate all kinds of scenarios regarding the contents inside: What would he find? What would you show him? Did you have posters all over the walls? He doesn’t because his dad doesn’t let him put up posters in his room, saying that it will “ruin the value” of the home, maybe your parents aren’t as irritating as his and allowed you to put up whatever you wanted.

Or perhaps he’ll finally get to see the so famed plushies you always talk about, ones he has to be very attentive to just so he could guess which ones weren’t from your collection, and subsequently, give them to you as a gift.

Well, any assumptions would soon be cleared and cemented when you slide the door open, finally revealing your room.

The first word that Naoya thinks describes your room the best is cozy.

It’s decently sized, not as big as his, but with enough space to fill it up with whatever you wanted.

There's a window at the far end of the room which provides you the calming view of one of the many gardens inside the estate, as well as the impressive bright full moon in the sky.

From there, the second most noticeable thing was the absence of posters… which he really thought you’d have, but now that he thought about it, you probably would’ve made better use of something a bit more practical, like toys… or the hard-to-ignore mountain of plushies found in the corner of your room.

He already estimated quite a large number from the conversations you had with him pertaining to the subject, but he never expected this many! Do your parents get you a new one whenever you go out?! Do you perhaps have a plushie tree in the backyard?? How—how is he going to compete with that??

Guess he'll have to figure out which ones are your favorite and work from there.

Beyond that, his attention falls back onto the first thing that actually caught his attention, the elephant in the room.

A large…blanket tent-like encasement held up by various chairs, illuminated by small golden string lights, in the middle of your bedroom.

Naoya doesn't believe to have seen something like this in the past, outside of when he goes camping with his family, and considering this was indoors… he's naturally prompted to inquire:

"Is this your bed?"

"Nope! It's a pillow fort! Papa made it for me" you explain matter-of-factly, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world—and for a sleepover, it just might— while you went ahead and closed the window curtains. "He said he used to do them with his friends when he was little, and that they were fun, so he wanted to do the same with me for my sleepover!"

"I see…” Naoya murmurs, still somewhat… confused. “So you don't usually sleep like this?"

"Mmhmm" You hum back, shaking your head "But it would be cool though! Papa even set my t.v. in there, look!"

You rush to the pillow fort, where you'd be dropping to your knees and subsequently crawling past the entrance and deep into it, as Naoya, who had yet to put down his things, simply limited himself to look at you from where he was.

He'd glimpse through the fabric door and finally observed the mentioned T.V., which was past another hill of pillows and plushies (Naoya rightfully assumed to be your favorites due to their location) mounted on a small wooden box, as well plugged to a Nintendo 64.

It seems Eiichi had not only shared with you a piece of his childhood, but also, done it in a way where it also combined the things you liked.

And for that, Naoya can't help but feel a little bit jealous, silently wishing his father was as attentive as yours.

"This way we can play games while laying on the futon! Oh, and because papa knew you were coming, he also got me an extra controller!" You announced, reaching over to the left side of the T.V and pulling out two controllers, waving them at Naoya "Mine is the purple one, and yours is black! Because of black Sentai, your favorite , right??"

Your assumption hit the mark yet again as his eyes widened and his cheeks warm up. If he already thought of you as kind, he now adores you.

"Yeah…" he nods, a small smile on his face "and yours is purple because of Gengar, right?"

"Yep! Everything I have is purple! Except for my Gameboy. I wanted the purple one, but got the gray one instead. But I saw you can paint it, but my mama doesn't let me because she says I'll ruin it, but I saw you can have it painted by someone else! But she says I shouldn't do that either, because I don't really need it…" you continue to ramble on as Naoya's mind takes him to another seizable opportunity.

Sure, this opening sets him going against your mother's wishes, but at the same time, if done correctly this could place him in a more positive light in your eyes, and I'd he thought about it, your parents too! For he'd also be showing how attentive he is.

It's set then. Just as with the scrunchies, he'll ask his parents for a purple Gameboy to give you on your birthday. The cost of something like that holds no influence in swaying his mind away from the idea, because affording something like that is nothing but spare change for someone like his father.

"I'm sure you'll get it" Naoya says in an effort to reassure you, without giving out much details… if not to build up anticipation.

"What do you mean, Noya-kun?" You ask, leaning your head to the side as you watch him shrug, feigning ignorance.

Even after all this time getting to know each other, you still hadn't said his name correctly. However, that’s not something he intends on correcting anytime soon, since he’s already grown fond of it. It's a special nickname only he gets, and the one only you are allowed to say, no one else!

In fact he even prepared a nickname for you too, one that he believes fits you very well due to the roundness of your cheeks and your affinity for such sweets…

"You'll see, mochi-chan" he says and your mouth widens in surprise. The secrecy behind surprises always excites you, so you decide to not ponder any further. "Talking about mochi, I got you some"

He takes off his backpack and places it on the ground to begin searching for your gift, swiftly and carefully pulling them out—2 boxes, one of assorted flavors and taro, your favorites.

"For me?!" You cry as he hands you the boxes, Naoya nods and you squeal once more , jumping in the spot out of happiness "Thank you so much! I'll place them next to the ones papa gave me today so we can eat them later… or not! Mama is making brownies so I want to try them first, oh, and she's also making your favorite!"

"My… favorite?" Naoya carefully repeats, wanting to make sure if he heard you right before fully diving into enjoying the fact that he might eat his favorite meal that day.

"Yeah! I think Naoya-mama said your nii-chan was sick and was giving him miso soup, but because you ate all of it she had to do more, so mama thought she would make some for you!"

"She—she said that?" Naoya nervously stammers, shame taking a hold of his feelings by his mother’s merit, yet again. His cheeks now fully ruby-red as he wonders what were the intentions of his mom relaying that information?!

"I'm sorry about your nii-chan" you say as you walk over to the nearest closet, opening the door and placing his gift alongside the other… immeasurable amount of mochi boxes inside.

Had Naoya not been too busy dealing with the shame of mother's betrayal, he would've felt intimidated by your father's doting. He once more finds himself inwardly asking how can he compete with that?!

But before Naoya is able to do much answering, he's pulled back to the conversation by the following words.

"Is Naoaki-kun ok?"

Naoya chokes.

"He's… he's not sick" Naoya whines, a scowl on his face "although I wish he was…"

"Don't say that, Noya-kun!" You protest, crossing your arms "He's your nii-chan, and he's really cool! He knows alot about Pokémon and he's really tall too, I wish I had a brother like that"

Naoya wants to say that you don't really mean that, or that you'll change your mind after getting to know him better, but instead of allowing him to ruin his night any more, he decided to redirect the conversation onto another topic.

"I know about Pokémon too" he counters, and you raise your eyebrows.

"You do?" You ask, tilting your head. Last thing you remembered about him and Pokémon… was nothing really. He doesn’t speak much when you’re talking about it.

"Yeah, I recently got a Gameboy and started playing it"

"Oooh! Which one are you playing? Did you already beat the elite four?" You enthusiastically wonder as you rush back to him, and here is where Naoya realizes he might've miscalculated the lengths of your interest.

"Y-yeah… just beat the first one" he falters as he looks away from your intense gaze in hopes of avoiding further interrogation. Luckily for him, it seems you don't notice (or care) as you simply continue on.

"My favorite one is Agatha because she has a Gengar. But she looks really mean…" you sigh "I want to become a trainer one day"

"I'm sure you can do it…" he murmurs along.

"Really? Because I already know what I want for my team! First I want a Gengar, from there I want a Rapidash because my mom likes horses, I want a Porygon too because Ren-nii likes that one, whenever he plays he just spends all his time in the casino trying to get it… and maybe a Meowth for my sister she likes cats, papa said he likes plants so I'm giving him an Oddish. That's what I have until now, but I still need one more…" you frown, pressing your lips together, hand underneath your chin, as you momentarily plunge into deep thought, figuring just which one would be the perfect match for your set… "oh! I know, what's your favorite pokemon? I'll have it in my team!"

Naoya would've felt honored for your suggestion, had it not been evident he lied his way to this point.

Truth to be told, his father didn't buy him the Gameboy he promised to get after that Halloween night because he didn’t think it necessary for a kid his age to have one in the first place.

Naobito believed he should be playing outside, spending time with his brothers or making new friends, since apparently he was having issues socializing with the rest of the kids at school—exactly the type of symptom he expected to see due to his already poor relationship with his brothers and his lack of interest for anyone else but you. The reason behind his fixation and arrogance eluded him, almost as if he were completely unaware that Naoya was simply replicating what he saw at home.

However, because of Naoya’s insistence, Naobito eventually relented to his request and ended up buying… or so that’s what the youngest of his children expected to happen when his father handed him the sealed box of the new video game device… he did not ask for.

The mere thought of his indifference and subsequent mistake is enough to anger Naoya, but not enough to cease his efforts.

To overcome this obstacle, Naoya decided to acquire the knowledge he needed through his brother's Gameboy, the one he had long discarded because he found it boring, and the same one he couldn't find the day he finally decided to rummage through his room—only to later find out that it had actually been sold in order to get this favorite group's newest album.

Always the explosive one towards his brothers, Naoya was quick to demonstrate his exasperation through his selective choice of vocabulary, but his brother —who was not in the mood to entertain him that particular day— dismissed him by suggesting he could just watch the anime instead if he was so desperate to know about it.

And that’s what Naoya (reluctantly, cause he’s never going to admit Naoaki actually had a good idea) did at first… that is, until he realized it overlapped with the airtime of his favorite anime. Thus, he was forced to quit the idea altogether.

Oh, but now… now he wishes he'd powered through this conflict, at least for a few more episodes, because now that you’re asking him questions about the franchise is when he realizes he barely saw, or remembered any of it—Aside from this one episode where a round, small pink creature with big blue eyes sang people to sleep, was the protagonist of…

"Jigglypuff?" You ask once he described the Pokémon "You like that one?"

"...yeah" Naoya lies "they're… cool"

"Yeah, they are! I like how she puts them to sleep and that’s very useful when you want to catch a Pokémon you don’t have! And it’s funny how it gets angry too and marks their faces!" You giggle "Alright, I'll get a Jigglypuff for my team since you like them! Oh, I know! What about your team? What would you like to have as a trainer?"

"I—I haven't thought about it, really… how about we talk about something else?" He nervously suggests "like… um…what are we gonna play today?"

"I have many games!” you admit proudly before starting to list them “Mario Kart, Smash, Zelda, Kirby… But we can only play Mario Kart or Smash brothers because it's for multiplayer, the other ones you'll have to watch me" you grin.

"Do you play Digimon?" Naoya innocently asks, and the way your face contorts into a frown immediately after has him feeling remorseful. Did he… say something he shouldn't have?

"Wha—what's wrong?" He stammers, blinking as he sees you twist your lips even more.

"I don't like Digimon. Pokémon is better" you say that, and nothing more.

Your sudden animosity for the franchise (or anything, really, since he always thought you as eternally unaffected… asides from that one prank he hates even mentioning) makes him wonder where this disdain came from, but ever the talkative child it's only a matter of seconds before you offer the answer yourself "Satoru-kun makes fun of me because I like Pokémon and he likes Digimon, and he's really annoying so I promised to never play it!"

Naoya blinks, processing your words for a few moments before starting to feel further ashamed. He feels bad that he brought the topic in the first place, had he known your distaste for it he would've ignored it completely, and secondly… because it turns out that's the device his father got him instead of the prized Gameboy he sought.

It's a "2 step forward, 1 step backwards" kind of situation that makes him want to move on from it as soon as possible.

Your natural inquisitiveness, however, wasn’t about to allow that just yet, and Naoya is forced to root himself at the present to answer your question—or partially, that is.

"Why do you ask?" you look up to him and his guilt only weighs heavier on his shoulders.

“Just because” he shrugs, brushing off his initial wondering as nothing more than good ol’ plain curiosity, but you knew better than that—grew better than that thanks to your less-than-discreet father and his doting ways. Besides, you already gave him the opportunity to keep one secret earlier, he shouldn't be greedy with two!

“That’s not true!” you giggle, placing your small hands on his shoulders, slightly shaking him to egg him on “Tell me, Noya-kun!! Pleaaaaaseeeeee”

“Fine, fine!” He says, managing to escape from your surprisingly tough grasp with a swift move, alongside the quickening of his heart for your closeness“...I wanted a Gameboy but my dad ended up getting me a Digivice, I mean, it’s not even similar! I don’t know how he got confused”

“Oh, so you have one?” you chirp interestedly, a completely different reaction from the one Naoya expected, that being disappointment “Hinata-nee has one too, let me show you!”

And with that, you turn towards the exit and sprint past the door, decidedly heading over to your sister’s bedroom.

Naoya wasn't sure if you wanted him to follow you, but that's what he ends up doing anyways since he didn’t feel comfortable enough to stay in your room without you, catching up to you just a few steps behind, only to come to a screeching halt upon seeing you enter the bedroom he presumes to be Hinata's, deduced from the sunflower stickers decorating the entrance.

It’s no mystery that he and your sister did not get along, and might’ve already planned how to get back at her, however, he still knew it was in his best intentions to stay away from her things, lest he wants to run the risk of retaliation from her when she inevitably learns about it, specially when he still has the element of surprise to his advantage… and his mother’s warning to behave lingering in the back of his mind.

But you, who has yet to catch on to their turbid relationship, couldn’t rationalize his reaction as anything but odd, more so upon noticing the distress on his face, prompting you to ask.

“What’s wrong, Noya-kun?”

“I—uh, I don’t think I should be going to your sister’s room” he responds, shaking his head.

“Why not?” you counter back, and for the first time in his life, he condemns your curiosity as much as he found it endearing when directed towards him and his interests, it sometimes unwittingly dug him into a hole.

“I don’t want her to feel like I went in without permission…” he goes on. He really cared less about what your sister thought, he just didn’t want to get into trouble at your house… and get his mom angry to the point where he’d never allow him to see you again.

“Hmmm, well” you take a step closer to him, at first your face serious and pensive almost as if you were considering his words, before throwing him a mischievous smirk and raising your pinky finger to him. “I won’t tell if you don’t!”

Naoya’s affliction disappears as a wave of emotions paint his face: first it's surprise, and then… amusement.

It's only the first time he sees this side of yours, but he can already tell he likes it. It opens a new door of possibilities, both literally when he intertwined his finger with yours before entering Hinata’s room just behind you, and metaphorically when he imagines the kinds of pranks you two could pull off on Naoaki if you ever want to scratch your mischievous bone. The two of you could literally be unstoppable!

But until then, he stands by as he watches you go ahead and rummage through the many drawers of her vanity table, the place you assumed most of her items to be stored in, attentive enough to not leave any unnoticed, but careful to not give the impression you were there.

And once you eventually find the object of your search, you take it out, giving yourself a mental pat in the back as you turn around and cheer.

“Look, I told you Hinata-nee had one!” you say as you walk over to Naoya, showing it off to him as you pressed on the buttons to turn it on.

A few seconds later and the device beeps, initiating its system. However, once the Digimon appears on the screen, your smile fades. “Agh, but she never takes care of it! She forgets to feed them and let them sleep too! If I had one, that would never happen, but I can’t because papa said I play too many video games at the house and I already have a gameboy so…” you shrug.

“Would you like one?” Naoya is quick to offer, unsure if the soft, sad undertone in your voice is a reflection of wanting the device, or simply your sadness for the poor digital monster.

“No, not really… I mean, maybe! We could play together like that too, right?” you assume, Naoya nods. “But I really don’t like Digimon, and if I get one Satoru-kun is just going to find a way to make fun of me too and I don’t want that either”

“Well, mom always said that if it’s something you don’t like, you don’t have to do it” Naoya reassures and you smile, happy to know you could always count on his wisdom to help you out.

“Yeah, you're right! I want to play Pokémon instead, Mario Kart, or even Smash! I want to try out this new thing I saw the other day on T.V!” With the talk of Digimon and Digivice tossed to the side, you grab Naoya by the hand once more and rush back to your bedroom, wasting no second to throwing yourself into the pillow fort, crawl on the futon towards your designated spot, and start setting up everything for a long night of video games…

“Oh! Wait, we have to change into our pijamas first!" you gasp, crawling past Naoya, who had just joined you inside the pillow fort, and going to your closet, taking out your light green warm nightwear, frog themed and looking back at Naoya “you can change here, I’ll go to the bathroom!”

“Wait, isn’t it better if you stay—” Naoya attempts to stop you, but once again, you prove too quick for him to keep up and before he’s able to continue with the rest of his sentence, you're already gone.

Left with the underlying and awkward sensation that he’s stuck in this situation with nowhere else to go, he decides to adapt to the circumstances and change into his pajamas, a black Sentai themed set per usual, just in time before you return.

“Ready Noya-kun?!” you make your grandiose return with a resounding announcement, tossing your clothes onto a nearby chair stashed away in the corner, making way back into the pillow fort and to your spot just before the t.v. “You can sit here next to me, it’s a good spot, promise” you gently pat on the empty area beside you, and like an eager puppy, Naoya does as you request and follows you inside.

Once seated, you hand him over the black controller, (perhaps not) unwittingly brushing his fingers against yours, before glancing up to the loading screen that has been on repeat for the past minutes.

And thus, the night begins.

The two begin by playing a few rounds of Smash Brothers, first together against a team of CPU’s, and then against one another. With you choosing Samus and Naoya, Captain Falcon.

The young boy found it quite hard—no, impossible to beat the veteran you turned out to be in this game, a clear statement evident by winning 10 times in a row, before eventually growing tired of the game and moving over to Mario Party.

Here he seemed to have somewhat of a better time due to the relatively easier nature of the mini games there, that is, until he realizes he's yet again, no match for your expertise.

But even as competitive and humiliated as he was by his consecutive defeats, he was still able to push all that aside in favor of genuinely enjoying his time with you.

Naoya rejoiced in how giddily reacted at your victories, with the cheeky grin on your lips as you looked over to him, almost as if you were telling him “did you see that?”

Or how you weren’t afraid of ruining your winning streak in favor of giving him a bit of an advantage, either by skipping on buying the necessary stars to win the game, or not doing anything during the minigames, although this would be for naught since you’d end up winning one way or the other.

These small things were the ones that made his night amazing, but most of all, made him feel appreciated, carefree.

A sentiment that doubled down when it was time to take a break, one which came in the form of someone knocking on your door accompanied by the delicious smell of recently made miso soup and brownies.

“Heard you two were having fun so I decided to let you have dinner here” Said your mother as she walked past the door, tray in hand, and towards the children. “Just be sure to return the plates to the kitchen after you’re done, pumpkin”

She crouches down and leaves the tray on the floor.

“That was one time, mama…” you respond with a frown and a pout as you crawl out of the tent, Naoya right behind you, before silently mouthing her to “don’t embarrass me infront of Noya…”

Minako, unable to hold back her amusement at your adorable reaction, chuckles as she ruffles your hair. You take the gesture with a bit of irritation at first, still embarrassed by your exposure however, never one to hold onto grudges, it wouldn't be long before you fall victim to her doting and start giggling alongside her, solely stopping when the smell of homemade food is too much for your stomach to ignore any longer.

Wanting to quench your hunger, you peel away from her and head over to the tray, reaching for the utensils before giving a cheerful thank you for the meal and start to eat.

Once Minako deems you appropriately cared for, she decides to see her attention on the young kid besides you, who now mirrored your actions.

“How’s my daughter treating you so far? I hope she's been well behaved, I know she can be a bit overwhelming, so don’t be afraid to let her know if she’s being so”

“Mama!” you whine, blush on your cheeks, mid-bite. “Don’t say that!” Minako laughs once more, she was just teasing you after all.

“She’s been very good to me, L/N-san!” Naoya comes to your rescue as he proudly admits his experience so far. To him, this was a test from your mother to evaluate his courteous nature… as well as a good way to express his genuine appreciation for everything your family has given him. “Thank you for your hospitality”

“Oh, it’s nothing. It’s nice for Y/N’s friends to come over” she says, softly ruffling his hair as well “I hope you like the soup, I made it specially for you upon hearing it's your favorite!"

Naoya blushes, whether because of the warmth of the soup, or your mother's attentive nature… let's call it a combination of both.

"It's delicious" he says while his mind scrambles to formulate more compliments… "more… more than my mom's!"

"Ah, well I thank you for your compliment! Just promise me to not tell your mother you said that, after all, I'm sure she makes a delicious soup as well" Minako clarified.

And in that, she was right. To Naoya there was no better food than the one his mom made.

If anything, him saying that her food was equally as good as his mother’s (or more) was to be a good compliment!

But if that's what she wants, he'll comply, besides, he wouldn't like his mom feeling sad about him liking someone else's soup. At the end of the day, his heart knows there's no competition!

"Well, I'll let you two eat. If you need anything else, I’ll be in my bedroom just a few doors away”

“Thank you” Naoya says once again as he nods, you humming alongside, and then, your mother exits the room.

And once their stomach is full with the delicious food your mother prepared —which Naoya could only delight on, after all, it was his favorite— alongside the brownies you'd proudly announced to have done yourself, even though less than a quarter of the process was handed by you, abandoning the job immediately after Naoya turned up at your house (he doesn't care, he still eats them excitedly as ever)—the two continue on with their long night of gaming

The next game in your entourage was to be Pokémon Stadium—and your personal favorite for obvious reasons.

The game seemed to pass undetected for Naoya (outside of absorbing as much information as he could for future reference) since he didn't find it as fun as the previous ones due to the new mechanics, but he was bound to remember it because whenever a pink colored Pokémon appeared on the screen, you’d say:

“Look! It’s your favorite Pokémon!”

It was far from the truth, of course, but he didn’t have the heart to tell you no, or the information to give you an alternative.

By playing the game, however, he realized he liked Abra in particular, something about its psychokinetic powers resonated inside him… making him wonder if you liked the Pokémon too (no, you didn’t, you’d tell him later—because you hated how difficult it was to capture a Pokémon who would teleport away from the battle as soon as they could!)

From there, the next game that set the tone for the rest of the night: Mario Kart—and not because he liked the game in particular, if anything, this is where he realized that the infamy following the game was well earned.

The video game was unreasonably harder than the others (whether for your configurations or default, it was irrelevant to him) and no matter what he did, he just would never catch up!

He tried to get a head start by pressing the designated accelerator button, only for the car to stall instead because he’d apparently “pressed the button too early” or so you attempted to justify, and by the time he regained control over the vehicle he was already behind all of the other racers!

But if that was already pretty bad, the items scattered around the track was the metaphorical cherry on top of his demise: while most of them held the intention of providing the upper hand to whoever manages to catch them, it seems he’d gotten the uncommon bug that only allowed him to use his items incorrectly and subsequently lose.

Far different from your usual outcome, which you were all aware of thanks to the confident yet focused look on your face.

How was it possible that you were just good at every single game that you played?! You must have a talent that eludes him, or perhaps your dad was right in saying that you played a lot in your free time.

Well, whatever the reasons didn’t matter to him, and his frustration wasn’t going to last that long either, not after you gifted him the words that would make up for all of his defeats.

“What?” you ask upon noticing the stillness of his car, as well as catching him staring at you through the corner of your eye “Just because I like you doesn't mean I’m going to let you win!”

“You—you what?” Naoya is only left to stammer as a consequence of the rattling statement you've thrown into the conversation. Such was his shock, that even his controller fell off his hand and to his lap, followed by a gentle thud that was deafened by the thundering of his heart echoing in his ears.

He couldn't believe what you'd just said, and denied wanting to accept it so easily without being completely sure, so he swallowed, preparing himself to work through the knot in his throat and squeak "Wh—what did you say?" hoping to obtain a reiteration from your part…

“Noya-kun, you dropped your controller! How do you plan to win like that?” is what you decide to respond to instead, completely ignoring his question as you reach for his controller and hand it back to him, much to his disappointment.

But even then, it wouldn't matter to him that much, not when he decided to convince himself that he heard you correctly the first time.

Your words were like honey to his ears, no, much more sweeter than anything he could imagine! And if this wasn't a sign that he was on the right path, then he didn't know what it was!

Well, either way, he can't say he's not excited to figure out what he meant to you through his own merit....

The kids eventually grow tired of playing, and wanting to do something different and less stimulating, they decided to relax by watching a movie and snack on a few more of those brownies they managed to sneakily steal from the kitchen on their way back to return the used plates…

A plan that was proving to be successful, that is, until they bumped into your mother just a few feet away from your bedroom, an unexpected presence that froze them on the spot, but who could do nothing more than smile and chuckle at how suspicious they looked with their wide eyes and rosy cheeks as they attempted to hide all evidence by placing the brownies behind their backs, and it would've worked, had there not been any lingering clues on the corners of their mouths—Only realizing so when one saw the other.

“I’m sorry” Keeping his promise to his mother, Naoya is the first to speak, looking down to the ground in embarrassment as he attempts to wipe the chocolate out of his face with his free hand.

“Ah, no, it's not that, I’m not upset” she said, taking out a handkerchief from her pocket and helping clean up Naoya “I’m honored really, it’s the first time I made brownies so you two getting second servings is the highest of compliments”

“But I made them mama!” you interject with a cry and she blinks, before nodding.

“Oh, yes, of course! How could I forget my little baker?” Minako apologizes, patting your head. You smile back at her in a way that lets her know you accepted her apology, and she proceeds to clean you up as well. “Well, I’m still glad that you liked Y/N-chan’s work. Maybe she can even bake you a cake on your birthday, it’s soon, isn’t it? In March if I recall correctly…”

“Your birthday is in March?” you gasp, startled by this new information you were ignorant about just a few moments ago, as your head swirls into his direction, earning a subtle sigh from your mother due to her interrupted work. "When??”

“March 27” he reveals. A date that he greatly anticipates as soon as the year starts, or any day of the year really, since his mother organized the greatest birthday parties ever without fail: He gets to open all the presents he wants, and eat nothing more than food that he likes—but now, he has one more thing he was looking forward to the most, and that was your attendance!

Maybe he can finally introduce you to his best friend? Or even his favorite cousin!

“Are you gonna have a party? Am I invited?!” you urged before turning back to your mother, jumping to get her attention “Oh, mama, can I go? Can I go, pleaseeee?”

“I’ll think about it” she winks at you before looking at Naoya.

She already had made her decision though, for the envelope Tomoko placed alongside Junko’s food earlier that day turned out to be nothing more than the invitation to his birthday party, set to be on the weekend of his birthday.

“I’ll be waiting for our invitation, Naoya-kun” she teases, and Naoya flushes.

“I—I promise to bring one!” He blurts out “And Y/N-chan will be a special guest too, I promise!”

“I’m sure Y/N-chan will be happy to attend as a normal guest” Minako says “Now, I’ll let you continue on with your slumber party, but also, don’t eat any more than those brownies, too much sugar at this hour will just force you to stay up at night and you have to rest well” she reminds, but you shake your head in rejection of her idea.

“But a slumber party is meant to be all night!” you protest, a pout on your lips.

“Well, he’s going to be here tomorrow too, you don’t have to do everything tonight” Minako explains and you stare at her for a few seconds, as if analyzing her words before giving her a nod.

“You’re right!” you concede, giving her a thumbs up, which she mirrors almost immediately after “Ok! Goodnight mama!”

The two eventually return back to your room, resuming their new plan.

“What do you want to watch Noya-kun?” you say as you reach out for the T.V. controller and begin to surf through channels.

Naoya seems to ponder on the mental list of possible movies to watch, he could suggest his favorites, or maybe the ones he hadn’t seen… that is, until an interesting idea crosses his mind, one that if it's planned correctly…

Yeah, he definitely knows what he wants to do now.

“Let’s watch a horror movie” he suggests, glancing at you in hopes of finding the typical enthusiasm a kid has for tasting the prohibited…

But “No, thank you” is what you respond with, without hesitation and whilst intently shaking your head. You didn't even bother to give it a second thought as you continued “Papa and mama say I can’t watch horror movies”

Naoya is faced with a difficult position yet again: he wants to obey your parents and earn brownie points with them, however, he’s seen (or heard more likely) how people tend to clutch at their partners when seeing a horror movie, and he wants to try if you’d do that with him, so…

“Just the first minutes” he insists, going against his better judgment as he doubles down in a high risk gamble. “And if it’s too scary we can just watch something else”

And at his insistence you decide to finally give in and consider his alternative, assuming by your furrowed brows, before coming to terms with your decision with a nod.

“Ok! But no more than a few minutes!” you say as you hand him over the controller, sealing the deal.

Naoya takes it and immediately presses in the numbers of the channel he'd seen his brother waste his life in watch horror movies in his free time.

And luckily for him, there was already a horror movie playing on the channel when it finally changed, so it meant they didn’t have to wait much for one to get one.

After you come to the same realization, you rush to hide yourself under the covers, pulling them up just below your eyes with hopes that this setup will offer you some kind of protection, as well as allowing you to peek back at the T.V, just enough to anticipate for the moment you’re bound to be inevitably scared and hopefully act accordingly.

Naoya can’t help but gush at your sight, rushing to do the same by joining you underneath the covers and lying beside you as close as he could.

“You better protect me if something happens!” you say upon noticing his closeness, which you don’t mind at all, for it turns out, he’s quite warm and that’s a plus for someone as cold prone as you. “This was your idea!”

“I will” he says with a smile, glad that step one of his plan is already in motion as a sudden urge of guardianship engulfs him “I’ll protect you!”

“Okay…” you whisper and you push yourself deeper into the futon upon hearing somewhat of an unsettling, screeching noise from the T.V, which turned out to be nothing more than a fake jumpscare, intending to lower the guard of the viewer, that is, until the true scare came out.

The first time it happened you were less than enthusiastic about it, squirming and crying underneath the covers when it first transpired.

The second time you inadvertently took cover at Naoya’s arm, pressing your face against it as you tried to run away from the horrifying sight, his small heart pounded loudly against his chest for having you that close to him—although when did it not beat like that when you were around?

But by the third time, it stopped being fun. The way you squealed and looked away was turning to be quite… unsettling to him. He thought that by this point you would’ve realized this was nothing more than a cheap horror movie made to fill the blank spaces between the good emissions, even laugh at the cheesiness of it, however, the more you cowered, the more he realized this was a bad decision and no amount of reassurance from his part could pacify your fright.

So he ends up doing the right thing by taking the controller, switching the channel into something he’d thought you’d like better and hopefully relaxing you—his go-to anime channel.

At the sudden interruption, you peek from underneath the covers, glancing up at him wide-eyed as you continue.

“Why did you change it…?” You asked, softly and hesitantly. You were confused, and rightfully so, for you perceived him to be quite enthusiastic about seeing a horror movie in the first place. Why the sudden change of heart?

"Because… uh, it was pretty boring” he responds nervously, briefly glancing at you before looking away, riddled with shame for having distressed you. “and… you didn’t seem like you were having fun”

“It wasn’t fun” you admit, looking back at the T.V. “...thank you”

His heart squeezes with something he describes as a combination of happiness and regret, the first for your admiration and recognition, and the second for having pushed you through all that just because he wanted to replicate something he overheard Naoaki wanting to try out.

He was already having a good time with you, regardless if he was close to you or not, so it was stupid to ruin it for something that was probably fake either way…

So instead, he decided to rescue their night before it was ruined any further and share with you what he liked the most, watching anime. With a series he thought would be much more enjoyable (or at least that's what he hopes): Cardcaptor Sakura.

It’s certainly a bit out of his usual watches, but through the small glimpses he's gotten here and there, he can still admit it's interesting all together. And with that notion, both kids begin to watch the anime, slowly becoming enraptured by the somewhat soft-spaced story, yet adventurous and creative storytelling.

But more than admiring the interesting show on the screen before them, he was more elated to see that this show had effectively lulled you into a more peaceful state of mind: you were no longer attempting to hide underneath the covers, instead, your arms are now out, head slightly lifted thanks to the new adjustment in your pillow, and completely focused on admiring the protagonist and the adventures she’s inadvertently roped into.

A peaceful, contrasting sight that leads him to ruminate on his regret for having attempted to ruin it by his senseless imagination, as well as realizing just… how much he likes to be with you, and how he's excited to spend the rest of the weekend with you.

It’s now become an undeniable fact that he's the happiest when he’s by your side, and when he’s apart, all that he wants to do is be with you. He likes how you laugh, and how you smile.

How you’re so focused and competitive on your video games, but at the same time, patient with him, who is nothing more than a complete failure at them.

He likes how you even remembered the things that he likes, whether them being food, anime, or even his favorite color.

Naoya is happy to be with you. And his feelings for you have grown so big since the first time he met you, that he begins to feel this overwhelming need of telling you about them starting to inundate his mind.

Thus… it begins..

Taking a deep breath, he takes the first step with what he considers to be his most excruciating, but satisfying, endeavor yet.

“Y/N” he calls. No nickname, no honorifics, nothing, just your name, a way for him to show how serious he’s approaching this matter.

There’s a slight tremble on his voice, as he awaits for confirmation that he has your attention, which it comes when you hum as a response. “I… want to tell you something”

“What is it, Noya-kun?” you respond, moving your head to glance at him.

He never thought he could be taken aback by the sight of your big round e/c eyes, but he’s proven wrong at this moment; and if anything, he's happy to be wrong, because it just lets him know he needs to do this.

“It’s many things actually” he begins “First… I want to tell you that I’m sorry for putting on that horror movie. I… thought it would be fun since I’m not that scared of them, and it was a cheap movie too but, well, I just ended up scaring you and I didn’t want that, so… I’m sorry”

“It’s ok, Noya-kun. Ren-nii likes horror movies too, I think…” you say, a yawn suddenly escaping your lips which makes you instinctively rub your eyes as well. "So maybe you could watch them with him next time!”

“I’ll see…” he frowns, mentally taking Ren, your brother, out of the equation before continuing “But still, it was wrong to scare you”

“Don’t worry about it… you can make it up to me with sweets…” you cheekily suggest.

Naoya huffs in amusement before relaxing his head back to the pillow, eyes now on the fabric ceiling. “You like sweets very much, huh?”

“Yeah…” you nod, and he hears shuffling coming from your side. Naoya presumes it must be you doing the same as him.

“I’ll see if I can get you more next time I see you… at my birthday party!” he says “I’ll make sure to ask for a cake you like too, that way you can eat as many slices as you want”

“Chocolate?” you ask and he nods.

“Yeah! Just that?”

“I like chocolate…”

“I know, I saw that today!” He smiles before taking a deep breath and placing his hands over his abdomen, intertwining his fingers together as a way to ease his nerves—his heart beginning to torment him yet again. Now… onto the hard part. “... also, there’s something else I want you to know”

You don’t respond this time, and he takes your silence as if you were signaling him to proceed.

He takes another deep breath, attempting to ease his poor heart from beating too hard, before continuing.

“I… I had fun with you. I always do actually, I can't think of a time I don't! But… What I meant to say is that I was the happiest today…

Ever since I met you at the halloween night mom planned… you’re the only person I want to be with!. And who doesn’t? You’re funny, fun, and you like the same things I do! Or most of them anyways… kind too, even with my annoying brothers… and you’re cute too… the cutest girl I’ve ever seen in my life” Naoya admits as well, though he seems to falter a bit there since he’s not used to calling anyone cute after all, always feeling ashamed to do so—there’s something about his siblings making fun of him for their mother calling him cute that completely derails him from using it.

But if he’s ever tasked to appoint a definition, he’s sure you’d be the perfect example.

“I—I guess what I mean to say is… It… it felt nice to hear that you liked me back then when we were playing and I…” he pauses, heartbeats in his throat as he musters all the courage he can for the following words “I want you to know that I like you too! I like you, Y/N-chan. And… I hope you like me the same way”

It’s done.

He’d placed all his cards on the table, wore his heart on his sleeve with nothing more than pure intentions, and from this point forward, it was a matter of seeing if you’d correspond to them… if you felt the same for him.

God, he doesn’t recall ever being this nervous in his life, not even when he got to meet his favorite actor from his favorite show.

He’s so nervous to hear your response, that he doesn’t even feel capable of looking at you.

Naoya’s going through a layered turmoil of emotions he’s having a hard time dissecting, it’s like a combination of excitement, nerves, fear, and relief…

And yet, it’s the moment he’s been looking forward to the most in the past few weeks—he’s sure of it now—the moment he’ll know if his feelings are reciprocated, and be happy!

But those thoughts begin to hinder when he realizes that seconds have gone by and you’re yet to give him an answer.

A hum, a word, even a gesture with your hands, anything to signal him that you’ve at least heard his words… but he receives nothing instead.

“Y/N?” he calls, no answer. And his heart which was soaring with anticipation, threatening to escape the confines of his chest, now begins to sink into something he can only identify as rejection—no, this was worse than that, something he didn’t think existed, but your silence made it possible for him to learn otherwise.

Did he… miscalculate what you meant? And now… you’re grossed out by him?!

Oh, he doesn’t think he’ll be able to handle this situation if it becomes his reality.

“Y/N?” He repeats once more, and it’s at this moment that he realizes there is no other path for him to take than to face the lights and the possibility of a grimace of antipathy against him resting in your usually cheerful face, marking the painful end of his friendship with you.

He doesn’t think himself capable of seeing such an image, but pushes through as he turns his head to face you, just as he’s been taught to do so in the face of uncertainty.

So Naoya holds his breath, tightly closes his eyes as he gathers up courage, before opening them and glancing back at you, expecting to be received with an image that would only fuel his nightmares…

Or perhaps, drowsiness?

Because when he finally sees you is when he realizes that your silence wasn't of indecision, uninterest, or even rejection—no, nothing like that.

It had been because you’d incidentally fallen asleep.

With your softly eyes shut, mouth slightly agape, and chest slowly rising and falling to the sound of your relaxed breathing, you were the epitome of slumber—and a completely different sight he’d drearily created in his mind.

At the whiplash of this revelation, Naoya can’t help but sigh as the weight of his worries is suddenly lifted from his shoulders; it wasn’t what he was expecting, but at least he can find comfort in the fact that it was nothing bad, more so when his mind pushes him to recall the words his mother imparted him with on the night of halloween:

A few minutes after the L/N family had departed, the Zen’in’s ride home arrived, with the same chauffeur that had driven them at first, and just in time before the night got any colder.

The group scurried to get into the car, and once everyone was seated and appropriately secured, with the heater in just the right temperature, their ride home started.

It must’ve been the combination of the warm temperature and the continuous rocking movement of the car that has Naoaki falling first to the clutches of slumber, eventually surrendering himself completely into sleep as he rested his head on their mother’s shoulder.

And Naoya, ever the one to keep up first with his brother before anyone else, was quick to voice his opinion on the matter.

“Why do you let him rest on your shoulder?” Naoya asks “Wouldn't it be better if he waited till home? I mean, that’s what I would do—That way he could rest better in his bed than on you!”

Tomoko holds back the urge to chuckle at his irony, because she’s more than capable of listing a few occasions where Naoya has fallen asleep after picking him up from his extra-curricular classes, having to carry him to bed… well, that’s just in the nature of two conflicting siblings, she supposes.

“Ah, well, if you put it that way I would definitely prefer Naoaki-kun to rest on his bed in the long run, he is quite heavy after all” she begins to explain, a smile on her lips, as she wraps her freed arm around Naoya and pulls him closer, a gesture that has him immediately basking on her warmth by hugging her back “But I like it when my children do that, it makes me feel… how do I put it… happy. Happy that they’re comfortable and safe with me. Besides, it also reminds me of when he was an adorable little baby, just like you!”

She pinches Naoya’s cheek and the young kid can’t do anything but to twist his mouth out of disgust at the mental image of Naoaki being “cute”, as well as fluster up due to the embarrassment of his mother’s cheesy, yet welcomed, gesture.

Back then, he didn’t understand it. Thinking his mom to be the usual doting self she always is.

But now that he’s living it, he gets it. That must be what he’s feeling when he sees you resting besides him, falling victim to the consumption of all of your energy.

It seems that not even the brownies were enough to refill your stamina and help you stay up throughout the night, just as you told your mother you were planning to do.

At the end of the day… he was ok with you not answering his feelings at the moment.

If anything, it just gave him more opportunities to impress you and your family into liking him more! (Outside of Ren and Hinata, of course, they were… different)

And with his birthday coming up, there couldn’t be any better timing.

Seeing your current status inspires Naoya to yawn, signaling it was also time for him to go to sleep. So, he does. But not before he pulls your side of the covers a few inches more, resting just at the base of your neck.

Once that’s set, he reaches over for the T.V. and lights controller—the one your father had set to turn off the line lights around the pillow fort—and turns them off.

In the deep silence of the night he carefully moves to his side and starts getting ready to lay back into the futon, fixing the pillow just how he thought it more comfortable before leaning the back of his head into it.

He begins to blink slowly, drowsiness weightening down his lids, but before he plunges into morpheus’ arms he gives you one last look—or whatever features he’s able to make out through the adjustment of his eyes— smiles, and thinks:

«This has been the best day ever»

He closes his eyes, falling asleep.

Deep into the late hours of the night, a gust of wind begins to take its path. First, by passing through the branches of the many trees in your garden, rattling the leaves and waking whatever animal is resting there. Continuing on its way by squeezing into the smallest of gaps of windows forgotten to be sealed for the night, mandating a shiver from the poor unsuspecting person that is to be resting inside, coincidentally, the one to be the most cold prone out of the whole estate—you.

Your body initially retaliates from being awakened by making you curl up against yourself in hopes of harborging the warmth of the covers, with a subtle whimper here and there, tightly squeezing your eyes together, before another shiver erupts from your body, making you grunt and eventually, wake you up.

The first thing that your eyes notice is the complete darkness that immerses your room, it’s such an eerie environment that doesn't fail on freezing you on the spot, considering that most of the time you had the light of the moon to accompany you.

Even then, you were more than ready to scurry out of your chambers and into your mother’s room, that is, until memories of moments before your sleep flood your mind: you were watching T.V. a horror movie to be more precise, and then, you started watching anime, someone was telling you something, you can’t recall—

Oh, right! How could you forget? You were with Naoya!

Well, in your defense, you usually lose track of what you are doing, or were doing, immediately upon awakening, only regaining it either through patience or eating. (Hinata begs to differ on that last one)

Now that you remembered what happened, or partially, you move forward to try and put the pieces together of who remembered to turn all of the lights off (since you… ah, let’s say that this subject quickly became your mother’s bane after a while) as well as when was the moment you actually fell asleep.

But before you could even scramble through your memories, a sudden sigh rupturing the calmness of the night gives you the answer.

Your head swirls in its direction and then, through your now adjusted vision to the darkness, you see him: Naoya lying with his body downwards, his face directed towards you, hair disheveled, but over all completely and fully deep into his sleep.

The revelation is enough to let you know he must’ve been the one to do what you often fail, as well as reminding you to keep quiet as to not wake him up; just the thing you start to do as you continue on trying to figure out how you’d fallen asleep in the first place—you recall Naoya telling you something about how sorry he was for putting the horror movie, and how you told him that if he wanted to make it up to you, you were accepting sweets as an apology…

From there on out, everything seems to turn into a blur, memories mixed between scenes of the anime you were watching and Naoya’s words, making it difficult to distinguish which one came from him, and which one from the t.v…

You eventually grow tired of going around in circles, deciding to instead go back to sleep and think about it in the morning, perhaps even ask Naoya about it if it keeps bothering you by then—although you were sure you wouldn’t have time for that, after all, your mom promised earlier that she would take you to the park!

The excitement is enough to push you back down to the bed, but not before reaching over for one of your favorite plushies (which you’ve unknowingly tossed aside while asleep) with the intentions of cuddling with it for the rest of the night, that is, until you’re abruptly stopped by another of Naoya’s sigh’s.

Something inside you convinces you instead to place it beside him, believing he could benefit much more from the fluffy companion and get a good night's sleep than you, who could just get another cuddle buddy if you so desired.

You carefully inch the plushie as close as you can towards him, avoiding making any rough movements that could wake him up, and once in the desired placement, you let it go.

You then return to your usual spot, stretching your pillow a few times before resting on it, moving to your side just to get a quick glance at Naoya, wishing him good night, and subsequently diving back into your dreams.

But just as you were opening your mouth to do so, something flashes across your mind, and a sudden wave of heat invades your cheeks, one that ignites the thundering of your heart the longer you keep staring at him, effectively stopping you.

You continue to silently observe him, breath quickening the harsher your heart pounds against your chest, eventually overwhelming you with the urge to move closer to him.

And that’s what you do. You carefully scoot over to him, as close as you could without taking much of his personal space and attempt to get a good look at the face of the kid you shared quite the enjoyable evening with, and wouldn’t mind doing so tomorrow, or any other occasion.

However, as much as you wished to keep looking at him to make sense of what your mind was telling you at the moment, it doesn’t take much longer for your eyelids to begin weighing down on you, signaling you that it was time to go back to sleep.

Something that doesn’t give you much space to retaliate once your body forces you to prepare for rest, starting by slowing down the intermittence of your blinks, the speed of your breathing—the general introduction of laxness in your body and the starting process of recuperating your energy.

But even in this resting moment, when your body is mobilizing all of your remaining energy for nothing more than getting you to sleep, you’re still able to gather enough stamina to formulate and mumble the conclusion of your thoughts:

“I like you too”

And then, everything goes dark.

#prompt series: jujutsu kaisen #naoya zenin #naoya zen'in #naoya x reader #naoya zenin x reader #naoya zenin x your #jjk naoya #naoya zen'in x reader

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