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ceejaykayess · 1 year

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Spoilers for one of the big twists of AI, and implied spoilers for Nirvana Initiative. Close-ups of the left and right under the cut. Also a long ass related one shot, because I’m incorrigible, I guess.

Aha, I said I would. Here’s my own take on Falco!Date. If you’ve seen some of my other art, you probably would have been able to pick up on some design cues I took for this mf. My bigger inspirations for this do come from other AITSF artists that have posted their own takes on the big guy, none of which I can name because I don’t pay a lot of attention. Stuff like wearing his hair in a spiky ponytail, wearing a purple shirt in his old style, and even the idea of dying his hair.

For this, I guess I was still experimenting on my design, considering some tiny differences. Like, I kept struggling to think of how to have Date wear his poggers coat open to show off his shirt without it looking silly. Then my brain blew up when I realised you could just button on the same side. So, now his chest is exposed, which is a win.

I wanted Date to wear only one of his gloves, partially as a way to distinguish my own idea of him and partially because I think mismatching designs are really cool. Love Date’s eyes. With my last post, I jokingly decided that Date’s now missing right glove was given to Hitomi as a keepsake. On the topic, I wanted Date to have his right hand ungloved so he could feel his Evolver without any interference, but wanted him to keep his other glove so he can still touch evidence without leaving prints. I always intended his left hand to be gloved and his right hand to be ungloved but I probably fucked up with my first Falco!Date fic way back an got my left and right confused. Cause my left isn’t his left, and so on.

His shoes are different. Look, I love Date’s real boots, but I don’t have a clue if he and Saito share a shoe size or not, and I was too embarrassed to ask the ether to compare the models, and I can’t see any feasible way for Date to wear boots the wrong size, so I decided to go with his old shoes. Kept the purple socks, though. They cute.

About his hair, I mentioned I took inspiration from someone else. In their post, they had it so Date tried to imitate his old appearance in Saito’s body, which included dying his hair the old shade of blond. So, I wanted to take that basic concept here. The tips of his lengthened hair are dyed the same shade of blond as Saito’s, which are all held bundled in his ponytail. Since there’s no way his hair’d get this long after only 3 months and a week, I... mentally just put this design as post (or during the 6 years later side) of Nirvana Initiative, where during his break he grew his hair out and had some people dyed his hair a bit.

It might be a bit obvious from the writing, but... the two Dates and his zoomed in eyes on the left are based on using the Date and Falco concept art sheets from AITSF, while the full body and zoomed in Date face are me drawing freehand with no reference. Which... isn’t great, I definitely need more practice, but I’m too bitch for that, so. I think the closeup of his face is nice, though.

“Date, what are you doing?” Her voice bit through the room with accusation and no small amount of vitriol, but he could hear the curiousity underneath it. They had been living together for almost six years, you know.

Yes, Date, I know.

Shush. Turning to his... roommate? Friend? Daughter? All of the above? Turning to Mizuki, he showed off the piece of clothing held firmly in both hands. The mysterious and yet so familiar purple, the firm and reclusive collar, the subtle diamond texture... all things he would associate with the person he would call Kaname Date.

“Ah, well, you know,” off to a great start, bud. “I’m just... thinking about putting on my coat.” There, easy.

“Why?”

Ah. Well.

“I mean...,” It makes me feel like myself, and not a fake in my own skin.

Date...

“I spent a lot of money on this coat, and wouldn’t it be a waste not to wear it?”

“Sure, but...” And here she looks from the coat in his hands, to his face, to a specific spot on his face, before settling on his face, hand tapping on her workout bench. “Why now? It’s almost Spring soon.”

She has a point there, Date. The average temperature has been rising recently. Just this week it has increased by 3.6 degrees centigrade. While there is no guarantee that next month will continue this trend, it is still likely that-

“Okay, okay, I get it, Aiba. I just... want to wear the coat, okay? I had been meaning to for a while now, but it just... it didn’t feel right.” Not without you.

...

“...kay.”

“Hm?” Date looked down from where his gaze must have wandered listening to Aiba. Mizuki was looking down, fiddling with her hands. At his mumble, she looked back up, grey eyes looking... understanding, in a way that made Date feel weak in relief and self-loathing.

“I said, okay. Geez, do you need to get your ears cleaned too, along with your smelly old man clothes?”

“Hey! These clothes don’t smell!” A beat passes, occupied by a sniff. “Much.”

Their little jab war would have continued if not for Mizuki heading it off with an important question.

“Are you sure that’s even gonna fit you? You’re, uh... a bit wider than you used to be.”

At the question, Date confidently waves his hand.

“That’ll be fine. I’ve been thinking of this for a while, y’know. If I heat the leather up, then I can make it remould to my more masculine form.”

She narrows her eyes at that, and suddenly Date felt like a fool. But before she could even comment, his partner cut in aloud.

“Date, I do not believe you have the equipment required to perform such a procedure in your home. Furthermore, I find it dubious to attempt such a procedure without any practice, or assistance. As well, I-”

“It’ll be fine. I’ll have you with me, won’t I, Aiba?” The question was simple, but behind it was a silent plea. As he stared into space, waiting with something cold beginning to coil in his spine, his partner remained silent. Then, a kind voice.

“Of course, Date. Always.”

He couldn’t help the warm smile that spilled across his ragged face, not even when Mizuki smiled at the two of them like a proud mother seeing her children get along. Which is an odd metaphor to use given their relationship, but not the point. Wanting to eradicate the embarrassment he felt, Date instead chose to taunt.

“Ha! Now I’ll be just fine with my clothes, Mizuki, you non-believer!”

Her smiling visage was quickly replaced with a glare and a growl. The two began another of their many bouts, with the third member of their little family chipping in every now and then. Date began to wear his old leather coat and pants not even a week later, seeming more comfortable in his own skin than he had in the last three months.

“Hey, Mr. Date.”

He took a deep swig of his bourbon and quickly swallowed, ignoring the burn as he turns to his subordinate. An aesthetically familiar head looks back, cheeks almost as red as his left eye.

“What is it, Ryuki?”

He smiled, like he usually would whenever he was drunk and his name was said. It was kinda cute, Date supposed, in a similar way to an old dog still wagging its tail whenever it saw its owner. Ryuki gestured exaggeratedly towards his hands, one wrapped around his glass, and the other tapping on the bar counter.

“It’sh your hands, Mr Date.”

Oh, he’s starting to slur, now. Have they really been here so long? It didn’t even feel like he spent that much time with Ryuki... Aiba, do you mind-

Yes, Date, I can drive you and Ryuki home. Again.

Thaaanks. Now, back to his subordinate.

“What about them?”

They were certainly larger than the ones he had used the last six years. Thicker and harder, too. His dexterity hasn’t suffered any, luckily enough, but he still sometimes thinks his hand is smaller than it is when he tries to reach through a tight gap. The skin was rougher, not scar-covered, but he wouldn’t have been surprised. Oh, and he was-

“Why’re yoou only wearing a glove on oone of them?”

And he was wearing a glove on one of them. His left hand, specifically.

“Well, Ryuki, my wonderful subordinate. Gloves are helpful in our profession, as they let us manually interact with any evidence we find without having to significantly worry about leaving any prints behind that could interfere with the investigator’s investigation. They aren’t a requirement, of course, but I would always recommend to have at least one on you.”

He’s smiling again, face flushing even brighter red- is that healthy?- but he waves his hand.

“Nooo, I already know that, Mr. Date! You told me months ago!” He did? Maybe he’s more drunk than he thought... “I mean, why are you only wearing one glove now? You used to wear two.”

Now he could feel his face start to blush.

“Ah, well, you see, I-”

He gave the spare glove to Hitomi, as a keepsake.

Aiba, you traitor! Was that over comms!?

Yes.

Ugghhh...

“Uh, please ignore that, won’t you, Ryuki? It’s a little embarrassing. And, I only gave it to her because I thought she could use it, okay!? No other reason!”

He said that, but he couldn’t help looking at his gloved hand, and imagining its partner being worn by the woman he wanted to one day call his partner, in love and life, even if he doesn’t feel worthy of even trying.

And because he couldn’t help it, he missed the way Ryuki’s face seemed to go lax, the way his flush shrank away and the way his expression showed his yearning sorrow. By the time Date turned around, Ryuki’s expression had once again become a dopy smile, and their night continued on.

He found himself sitting in that place again, back against the stairs as he stares out at the shrine grounds. No matter how long it’s been, six years or twelve, it never changes. Even the tree Mizuki had knocked down so long ago had been replanted and regrown.

He had told her, once, that this place made him feel calm. At peace. That was true, but there was probably more to it than he realised. This was, after all, the place he had first met the love of, he’ll admit it, his life. It was also a place he had often come to with the first girl he had thought of as a daughter. Obliquely, some part of him wondered if that little girl, now a grown woman in her own right, still wanted him to fulfill that wish of hers. If, even if he did, she would bother to call him Dad.

It frustrated him. That no matter how hard he tried, it was as if the world was determined to tear him away from the things he loved. It frustrated him, that he didn’t have the strength to force his way past the world. Not when he wants to most, at least. And what frustrated him the most, is how no one blamed him for it.

It verged on blame. Mizuki’s screams, Ryuki’s sobs, Aiba’s reticence. But it never tipped over. They asked why he never came home earlier, and he answers, and that’s that. No blame. And he refuses to ask for forgiveness. He refuses to talk about it, doesn’t want to force himself onto anyone after they all had over half a decade of not needing to be weighed down by him.

And it frustrated him. Because it wasn’t much more than an excuse. Because he was scared of being hated by the people he loves, for something he couldn’t control. Because he knows that if he just asked, just talked about it, they would. They would tell him there was nothing to forgive, they would understand, and they would even try to bring him back into their lives, rather than just the portions that he had to force himself into.

So, here he was. At the place he felt most at peace, all alone. Hoping that those Gods he didn’t believe in, that he would otherwise curse and rue, might finally offer him some sort of boon for the bullshit he could call his life. Instead, what he got was...

“Oh, it’s you. The old man.”

He blinks, before looking over. Her voice threw him for a bit, he thought his roommate-friend-daughter if he could even call her that anymore had found him while he was sulking. Instead, a glance out his good eye showed a familiar looking girl wearing the most outlandish clothes he had ever seen, and that was even taking Gen into account.

“Hey, kid.”

The greeting came unbidden, competing and eventually domineering over the natural thought to call her Mizuki and the overcompensating instinct to call her Bibi. Her slight grimace showed that he was probably damned no matter what.

“Ugh. Just call me Bibi, old man.”

“Alright, alright...”

He stared as she calmly approached, eventually taking a spot next to him on the stairs of the shrine. He blinked as she closed her eyes and hummed. She seemed cool as a cucumber, but he was feeling pretty awkward. He had to break the ice, somehow.

“So, uh... what are you doing here?”

She doesn’t respond, and for a moment Date felt a spark of irritation light up. It was quickly extinguished when she answered, though.

“Oh, you know. Just doing everyone a favour and looking for a certain idiot of an old man that went missing and still hasn’t bothered to get a phone yet.”

Ouch.

“H-hey. I’ve got a phone. I just... forgot to give my number out, is all...”

He could feel her judging him, her artificially heterochromatic eyes piercing straight through his leather coat and weathered body straight to his heart. He was certain that if Aiba were here, she would mock him for forgetting something so obvious. Hell, if she were here, he wouldn’t be in this situation in the first place.

Before he could ponder further on his own incompetence, Bibi stuck her hand out to Date, making a give gesture. Date raised a brow. Bibi furrowed her brow before aggressively continuing the gesture. Date could only tilt his head in response. It was Bibi that lost their impromptu staring contest, speaking.

“Your phone. Give me your phone.”

Her voice was harsh and clipped, so Date hardly hesitated in fishing the old thing out of his pocket. It was old, especially in this day and age, and worn being second-hand and all. But it was sturdy, and had seen him through many a job. Bibi grabbed it from his hand and started clicking through the menus. Eventually, she must have found something since she took a few seconds to stare before hitting the power button and tossing it back. Date could only grab it completely lost.

“Alright, old man. What’s your problem?”

“Huh?”

Date could only stare in shock. She comes up to him, invades his private time, insults him and demands his phone, and he’s the one with the problem? Kids these days...

“Your problem. Why are you out here, instead of... I dunno, spending time with your friends? Your girlfriend? Your daughters, maybe?”

Oh, great. This is what he gets for asking the gods for anything.

“Well, you know... it’s peaceful out here. I just needed some fresh air.”

“With no way to contact you? Right.”

“They’d have found me eventually. I mean, you did, and we hardly know each other.”

“Ha.”

The two sat in silence. It wasn’t exactly comfortable, but it wasn’t uncomfortable either. Date ran his gloveless right hand through his hair. His real hair, not the admittedly impressive synthetic fibres for his facemask. He couldn’t help but grimace. The last six years have not been super helpful for his hygiene, especially with all the travelling. His fingers eventually reached the dry ends of his hair, bleached near white.

“You know, I’ve never seen you with that face. At least, not personally.”

Date looked over, a brow raised. Bibi was just staring off into the distance.

“I had seen you a few times, with that new face near Mizuki. It had worried me a lot back then. Even when Mama would show me your old profile and called you a friend, I still worried. I felt so much better when you started wearing that mask. It felt a lot simpler, even if that was actually the face of someone that tried to hurt Mizuki. But, it felt like wearing the mask made everyone else a bit sadder. Even you.”

Date silently stared. Looking down, he found himself looking at the hollow face mask. One of the only connections he had to a past he didn’t know those last six years. It was horrible. Back then, he loved it and hated it at the same time, but he never knew why. Could never place that it was a feeling of wonderful familiarity, of the same face in the mirror, of a sign of six years lived in blissful ignorance with people he called his family. Could never place that it was a feeling of hatred and pain, of a sneering face looking down as his left eye ached, of a sign of a tragedy that could have occurred, that should have occurred, that had occurred and then had not occurred.

“But, you know, when you went missing, I would go take a look around sometimes. Whenever I was feeling up to it. But the face I was looking for had always been yours. Not the mask’s. I think I like you better like this. What about you?”

Then she turned to him, completely serious. For a moment, Date could appreciate that Mizuki would grow up to look every bit like the total badass she always was. But, that was only for a moment. For the next few questions, he considered.

“I... I don’t really know. Back then, all I wanted to be was Kaname Date. Even if there was a part of me that wanted to take care of what Falco had left behind, to accept what Falco was, there was so much more that wanted to just... run away. That wanted to keep on raising Mizuki, that wanted to keep on investigating with Aiba, that wanted to look in the mirror and see a friend instead of a stranger, an enemy. But then, the Church happened... and I was just Date. No Falco, no Kaname. Just, Date. And I lived my life, and saw my face as my own reflection, and I worked, and I grew my hair out. And then I saw that news report and it all came back to me, Kaname and Falco and Date all forced together and tied into a ruined ribbon named Kaname Date.”

He leaned over, arms resting on his knees, hands clasped, flesh and leather rubbing together. His throat ached, but he needed to force this out.

“But I don’t know who Kaname Date is, anymore. Is he the man with the black hair and eyes, gloveless and hopelessly in love? Is he the handsome secret agent clad in layers of black and purple, AI-Ball in tow? Or is he the labourer who grew his hair out, that hung out at bars with co-workers and helped out at local orphanages on the way, who dyed his hair that familiar shade of blond? Who... is Kaname Date to everyone else?”

His ears were ringing. His eye was burning. He took in one deep breath, then another, trying to regain his cool. He didn’t want to cry, not now. Especially not in front of that face. The yawning gap in his head had never felt so hollow, not since those days when the hole seemed to reach straight though his heart, forcing him to find some middle ground as Kaname Date.

Eventually, he caught his breath and cleared his vision enough to rise back to a sitting position with some amount of confidence. He didn’t want to look to his right. Instead, all he could do was laugh.

“Heh. Look at me, spilling my guts to a stranger. I really have changed, huh?”

The words felt bitter on his tongue. An aged bitterness, one that burns through the tongue.

His only response was the sound of rustling, then the creaking of the wooden steps. He couldn’t help but turn to see.

“Well, sometimes you need a stranger to spill your guts to. We’re way less likely to judge, y’know?”

She was standing, and took a step off the porch. She stopped so her back faced Date.

“I can’t tell you who Kaname Date is. No one can, I don’t think. Only you can figure out who you are, you know? But, you don’t have to do it alone. Because you’re not. You have family and friends who’ll help out, who’ll learn who Kaname Date is right along with you. Don’t you think that sounds like a better solution than sulking alone?”

Having said her piece, she began to walk off, leaving Date alone with her words. But she stopped again, this time turning around.

“Personally, I like this you better than any of those other options. Maybe try tying your hair up, though, you look like a creep about to drag someone into a river.”

Then she left, leaving with the last word.

“Damn brat.”

Date couldn’t help but smile. She wasn’t a bad kid. Looking down at his hands, one gloved in purple and the other bare and calloused, Date wondered. She liked this him better than the other options? He huffed. Sure like to keep it straightforward, huh. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a hair tie he would keep spare for work. Grabbing his hair, he tied it up in a low ponytail. Taking a deep breath of the shrine air, Date finally felt some of that frustration start to ease, some of his turmoil calmed. He still had a lot to do and say, but for now, this felt like a good first step.

Then his phone started to ring, with an familiar unknown number. Picking it up, he brought it to his ear.

“Hello?”

“Kaname? Is that you?”

“...Hitomi?”

Damn brat.

#ai the somnium files #ai the somnium files nirvana initiative #kaname date #hayato yagyu #art #story #mizuki okiura #kuruto ryuki #mizuki kuranushi #God this dragged on #I am not even remotely confident in my portrayal of Bibi #I am so sorry

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yoongiseesawmp3 · 3 years

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just about perfect - seonghwa

howdy folks, back with another fic but i’m switching it up on ya! i might start writing regularly for ateez as well so y’all are cool with that right? right.

summary: this is NOT inspired by seonghwa saying he watches nevertheless. why would you even think that.

warnings: not the kind of warning u were expecting but there’s no smut (i know its based off a show abt friends with benefits so that’s why i’m warning u. do not get ur hopes up) a little cussing, a lotta me waxing poetic abt the perfect man park seonghwa. also slight tomfoolery from the teezers

word count: 10.6k

the bookstore just off campus is your current go-to study spot, mostly because the cafe inside has a drink special where you buy one coffee and get a voucher for the new bakery next door. so, let’s just say the past few days you’ve been well caffeinated and well fed. you’re on the way there now, already planning out what your treats are going to be.

today you were supposed to meet your “study group” after your last class of the day, but it looks like you’re the only one here so far. and you say “study group” loosely, the professor for your music theory elective encouraged everyone to make a study group for the upcoming final and your group of friends chose to work together. there’s been no studying going on, though.

especially not when hongjoong’s new friend seonghwa has been flirting with you literally nonstop. he’s apparently friends with everyone else in your group too. san knows him from an art class they took together last semester, meanwhile wooyoung and yeosang claim they lived on seonghwa’s floor freshman year and he always bought them booze. seonghwa denies it, only because hongjoong would slap him if he admitted to buying alcohol for underage kids.

tasteful delinquency aside, seonghwa is a fine person. you mean personality fine, not like, fine fine even though san would beg to differ. he knows you’ve developed a thing for seonghwa despite trying not to, and he’s secretly trying to get you two together.

which is why san suddenly texts you and says he can’t make it, and neither can yeosang or wooyoung. they decided to ditch studying to practice for the final in their dance class instead, so it’ll be just you, seonghwa and hongjoong. and little did you know, hongjoong was trying to do the same thing as san. so we’ll see how this goes.

“y/n, you can’t do that,” hongjoong warns you, referring to the scale you were trying to fill out.

“why not?” you ask, looking down at your work and wondering what’s wrong.

“because it’ll sound like shit,” seonghwa replies before sipping his coffee.

“what he said,” hongjoong agrees, grabbing your paper and erasing some of the notes you had scribbled out. “it should look more like this.”

you glance over at what he’s done on top of your old work and sigh. you took this class because you like music, and you thought learning about how it works would be interesting, but it’s hard.

“can’t you just do all my work for me?” you plead. at this rate, you don’t think you’ll be able to pass the final.

“no, i don’t want you dragging me down in this class,” hongjoong replies. “my grades are great.”

“i hate you.”

“what are you struggling with, y/n?” seonghwa asks as he finally looks up from his laptop. he had been working on an assignment for another class this whole time because he, like hongjoong, is great with music theory. so maybe this study group was a good thing.

“here, you can switch seats with me,” hongjoong says as he clears the spot next to you on the weathered loveseat. “i’m going to look for a book i should’ve started reading two weeks ago.”

before you can protest, seonghwa is sliding his laptop across the coffeetable and slides himself into the spot next to you. when he sits you notice your thighs are touching, which is weird because there was plenty of space when hongjoong was here. you don’t know that seonghwa is doing this on purpose, that hongjoon really left so he could flirt with the cute cashier in the cafe to give you and seonghwa some alone time.

“so,” seonghwa starts once he’s settled. “what are you struggling with?”

“hmm, all of it?” you reply. your answer makes seonghwa smile, and you like the way his eyes sparkle when he does.

“then i guess we’ll be here a while.”

about an hour later, seonghwa has walked you through all the major and minor scales you need to know for the test and you’re starting to understand a little more. you’re still having problems with the back of the study guide where you have to come up with note combinations that can apply to those scales, but you have time to work on that since the final is two weeks out. right now, your brain is fried and you need a break.

“do you mind if i go get a coffee?” you ask seonghwa, who was in the middle of sending you the minor scale cheat sheet he made. he looks up from his laptop and shakes his head before he speaks.

“i would only mind if i can’t come with you.”

“it’s literally right over there, why do you need to come with me?” you question.

“i think i would just miss you too much,” he pouts, and you roll your eyes. seonghwa shuts his laptop and stands up. “what if i need coffee too?”

“you already had one,” you remind him as you stand.

“yeah,” he nods. “but teaching you is exhausting, so i need another. c’mon.”

he walks ahead of you to the counter, and you’re too busy searching for your wallet to notice he took his jacket off, revealing a sneaky tattoo on the back of his neck. it isn’t until you’re behind him in line that you get a look at the hand drawn star right on the nape of his neck, and you have to refrain from reaching out to trace the lines.

“i didn’t know you had a tattoo,” you decide to say. he turns around and instinctively rubs his hand across the tattoo, smiling at you with those sparkly eyes again.

“yeah, i have a couple,” he replies. “but this one is my favorite.”

“why?”

“because my name means ‘to become a star’, so i like knowing that i have a reminder with me all the time,” he explains.

“nice. it’s really pretty.”

“thanks, so are you.”

“sir?” the barista calls, pulling seonghwa’s attention from you. he steps up to give his order as you stare at the tattoo again, noticing alongside it a couple of freckles that almost make it look like a constellation.

“y/n?” seonghwa’s voice draws you out of your thoughts and you realize he’s finished ordering. “what do you want?”

“oh, i can get it,” you begin, but he cuts you off.

“no, my treat,” he insists, and you sheepishly walk up to the counter to give your order. seonghwa makes a mental note of what you get, and he also snatches the bakery voucher from you before you can put it in your pocket. you make a confused sound and seonghwa laughs.

“why’d you do that?” you whine.

“you only get to use it if you come with me to the bakery later,” he teases. “say yes or i’m drinking your coffee and getting myself an extra cupcake.”

“fine,” you huff. “but i have an assignment due at midnight, so i can’t stay long.”

“it’s 4pm, that’s not enough time for you to finish it?” he asks while you step out of the way for the next customers.

“i haven’t started yet,” you admit.

“you like saving things until the last minute, don’t you?”

“what makes you say that?”

“well, it looks like you haven’t been studying music theory at all, and now this,” he shrugs.

“not everybody can be perfect like you, park seonghwa,” you grumble as the barista places two coffee cups on the bar. you hear seonghwa giggle shortly, and you give him a questioning look.

“so you think i’m perfect?” he smirks.

it’s the next day, almost midnight, and you really need spray paint.

why? well, you’re stressed because you have so much to study for your finals and you don’t know where to start. yes, seonghwa helped yesterday, but he’s not in all your other classes, so you’ve decided you need a break from tearing your hair out over the material you can’t comprehend. the best way to distract yourself from that is to finally paint that dresser you got from a garage sale a few months ago, hence the spray paint.

thankfully, san is still awake, and he has a car, so you ask him to pick you up for a quick run to the art supply store that’s surprisingly still open. a bonus of going to college in the city, you can get anything almost whenever you need it.

“thanks for coming to get me,” you tell san as you hop into his car.

“no problem,” he replies. “i was bored and hongjoong said he needed paint pens so this is a win-win situation. plus, i get to hear about your date with seonghwa yesterday.”

“it was not a date,” you groan, choosing to ignore the suggestive way san is looking at you right now.

“but you spent the whole afternoon together,” san starts. “he bought you coffee and you went to the bakery together and talked about, like, your favorite colors and stuff. sounds like a date to me.”

“how do you know all that?”

“seonghwa told hongjoong and then hongjoong told me,” he explains as he turns onto the street that’ll take you to the art store.

“well tell hongjoong that i’m still mad at him for ditching us,” you reply. “and i’m still kinda mad at you and the other two for bailing in the first place.”

“hey, if it wasn’t for me, you wouldn’t have had your first date with seonghwa,” san points out.

“it was not a date!” you cry. “we studied most of the time we were together, then he bought my coffee and bullied me into going to the bakery. i couldn’t stay long because i had a paper to write, so we talked about stupid shit until i had to leave.”

“it sounds like the beginning of true love to me,” san sing-songs.

“stop the car, i’ve decided to walk.”

when you get to the store, san separates from you quickly because he sees his friend mingi behind the counter. they’re busy talking while you search the store for the paints, and you’re so busy looking up at the aisle names that you don’t notice you’re about to run into someone.

“hey-” you start to complain, but you recognize the man you almost bumped into. “oh, seonghwa.”

“y/n,” he smiles at you. “what are you doing out so late?”

“uh, distracting myself from how small my brain is,” you explain. “what are you doing here?”

“hongjoong needed paint pens,” he says, and you’re about two seconds away from finding san and slapping him. did they really plan this too?

“why didn’t he come get them?” you ask as you remember what you’re here to find. your eyes scan the aisle behind seonghwa and you spot the paint cans at the end, but he’s in your way.

“i offered,” he says with a shrug.

“you must be a really good friend, then.”

“well you did call me perfect yesterday, so...” he trails off, smirking. you roll your eyes at him but can’t help the blush creeping up your neck. he interrupts his new favorite activity of staring deeply into your eyes (just to fluster you, of course) and he sees that you’re looking past him at the shelves of paint. “you need something down here?”

“um, yeah, the spray paint,” you reply, awkwardly trying to skirt around him to get into the aisle. he steps aside to let you through, but still follows you as you search for the color you want.

“what are you making?”

“i’m painting a scuffed up dresser i’ve had for a while, so i want something simple that’ll go with the rest of the things in my room,” you explain as you stop walking and crane your neck to scan the bottles on the top shelf. seonghwa stops behind you and places his hand on the small of your back as he reaches for a can just out of your reach.

“what about this one?” he offers, handing you a can of light blue paint. it’s really pretty, and it’ll stand out with the white furniture you already have, but you really like it.

“oh, that’s perfect!” you say as you take the can from his hands.

“there you go again,” seonghwa teases, and you shoot him a questioning look. he smiles as he responds. “calling me perfect?”

“i said the paint was perfect, weirdo,” you snap. “but thank you for finding this.”

“anytime,” he tells you. “you said your favorite color was blue right?”

“right...” you mumble, thinking back to the conversation you had at the bakery yesterday. “how’d you remember?”

“ugh, i’m hurt!” he exclaims, hand flying to his chest in mock surprise. “i can’t believe you already forgot that it’s my favorite color too.”

“hm, guess i was too distracted by how perfect you are,” you joke. seonghwa laughs at that, a sharp sound that seemed to catch him off guard. he covers his mouth to stifle the sound, but you’re close enough to the cash register now that it draws attention from san and mingi.

“find what you need?” san asks with a shit eating grin.

“hm, just about,” you say as you place the paint on the counter. “couldn’t find a hammer big enough to drop on your head, though.”

“wow, harsh,” san scoffs. “and to think i brought you here out of the goodness of my heart.”

you’re too busy half-bickering with san to notice that seonghwa has paid for your paint and the pens he promised hongjoong. he mumbles something to mingi, who then hands him a piece of paper. he scribbles his number down for you before handing you the can and his number.

“i gotta go, but i’ll see you later for study group, right?” he confirms. you’re still processing the fact that he keeps buying things for you and you can’t respond in time, so san steps in.

“yeah, y/n will be there,” san assures seonghwa. he nods and shoots you one last smile before he excuses himself and leaves. you’re stuck with san and that stupid grin again. he looks at you and then checks the paper with seonghwa’s number on it. “yep, i think you got what you needed.”

even though seonghwa very willingly gave you his number, you’re still afraid to text him. it’s kind of hard to believe that he’s into you the way you’re into him, so you’re fine with just seeing him for study dates. or, uh, not study dates. study gatherings. with just the two of you. because the other guys have bailed, again.

this time, though, you’re not working on music theory. you have an assignemnt due for your ethics class, and you need family and friends to read about your results from this morals test. you wanted san to do it, but he’s currently “chasing a sweet piece of ass,” whatever that means. he’s probably bothering his lab partner that he claims descended from greek gods. you would usually tease him for saying something like that, but it’s a thought you’ve had about seonghwa, so you kept your mouth shut.

anyway, you know you need someone to answer these questions for you, but you can’t bring yourself to ask seonghwa. he kept up his “perfect” demeanor again today, showing up at the bookstore before you so he could get you the coffee you like. you would ask why he keeps doing things like this for you, remembering your favorite color and your coffee order, but you’re afraid he’ll stop if you bring it up. little do you know, every time he learns something new about you, he writes it down in his notes app, keeping a running tab of the things you like.

“y/n?” you hear him ask. his voice snaps you out of your thoughts and you realize you’ve been staring at him this whole time. the smirk you’ve become so familiar with makes another appearance as he gets ready to tease you. “something on your mind?”

“no, i...no,” you stutter. “i’m just thinking.”

“about what?” he questions as he lifts his coffee cup to his lips. you watch the way he slightly pouts them before taking a sip and you have to stop yourself from staring again.

“just this ethics assignment i want to finish,” you explain. “sorry, i didn’t realize i was staring at you.”

“must be an important assignment,” he nods, leaning forward to put his cup back on the table in front of you. you get another glimpse at the star tattoo on his neck as he does. “because i was definitely staring at you too, and you didn’t even notice.”

“oh?”

“yep,” he confirms. “i was giving you my best puppy dog eyes and everything.”

“puppy dog eyes?” you ask, unsure of what’s coming. “do you need something?”

“eh, not really,” he shrugs. “i’m just worried.”

“why?”

“you never texted me the other night.”

“after the art store?” you ask incredulously.

“isn’t that when i gave you my number?” he smirks.

“i didn’t think you wanted me to text you immediately...”

“well, it’s been three days and i still don’t have your number,” he pouts.

“hold on a second,” you mumble, reaching for your bag. you fumble around in there, searching for the piece of paper with seonghwa’s number on it as he watches you fondly.

“what are you doing?”

“looking for your number,” you reply like it’s obvious. seonghwa laughs a little and places his hand on your arm to stop you.

“you do know i’m right next to you, and i could just put my number in myself?” he asks, eyes sparkling as he half-smiles at you. you blush, because no, you weren’t thinking about that. you sheepishly hand him your phone and watch as he adds his number and then texts himself. he gives your phone back and replaces it with his own before asking, “what’s your favorite emoji?”

“um, the smiling cowboy?” you offer, not sure why he’s asking. he laughs again, like he did in the art store, but this time it’s harder for him to quiet the breathy giggles coming from his chest.

“why that one?” he asks, typing something quickly.

“it’s funny,” you shrug. “why?”

“needed something cute to put next to your name, but you’re a weirdo, so it’s not as cute as i was imagining,” he explains, showing you the contact card in his phone. your number is saved as “y/n 🥰🤠” and you can’t help but laugh. you look up at seonghwa, warmth in your eyes, and he starts laughing too.

“see?” you giggle. “it is funny.”

“whatever, at least now i have your number.”

after exchanging numbers with seonghwa, you’re starting to let yourself believe little by little that he might feel the same way you do. it’s not anything serious, but there’s definitely something there. the texts he sends are always flirtatious, and it has your heart beating faster every time you get a notification, hoping that it’s him. you’re in the middle of studying for your spanish final when you feel your phone vibrate on the bed next to you, and you smile when you see who it’s from.

seonghwa 🥺💫, 6:28pm: are you busy rn?

you, 6:28pm: not really, just studying

seonghwa 🥺💫: can’t be studying too much if you replied that quickly 🥸

you: what do u want

seonghwa 🥺💫: be nice :-(

you: sorry

you: hi seonghwa, how are you? what do you want.

seonghwa 🥺💫: come get dinner with me?

you: right now?

seonghwa 🥺💫: no, in 30 years. yes right now

you: but i’m studying ://

seonghwa 🥺💫: liar!

you: fine, when and where?

seonghwa 🥺💫: i’ll pick you up in ten 🤠

“you sure like staying close to campus, huh?” you ask seonghwa as he walks you about a block from your usual hangout and to a little hole in the wall restaurant that looks like it could seat maybe 20 people, uncomfortably.

“i know what i like,” he responds with a shrug. “speaking of things i like, you look nice.”

“oh, thank you,” you semi-laugh. you’d been close to panic trying to figure out what to wear (because you’re not sure if this is a date) so you went with something simple, but you’re glad seonghwa likes it. not that you wanted to impress him. but you did, a little. anyway, he looks...well, perfect, wearing black ripped jeans and a velvet-y navy shirt. you continually have to stop yourself from reaching out and stroking his arm just to feel the soft fabric (and maybe his muscles).

“so i take it you’ve never been here before?” he asks as he hands you a menu. you shake your head no in response. you can’t tell if he’s doing it intentionally, but seonghwa leans closer into your side as he explains. “you pick a main entree, but each dish comes with these sides. they say no substitutes, but i know the guy behind the counter so you can ask for more of something else if you don’t like one of them.”

“i might do that,” you say. “i don’t really want dumplings, so could i get extra sweet potatoes?”

“of course,” he nods, noting the way you smile slightly. it makes your eyes light up, and his heart does a little backflip knowing that he’s the reason for it. well, the sweet potatoes probably are, but he’s the one getting the sweet potatoes, so he’s taking that win for himself. once you both confirm what you want, he places his hand on your back and guides you to the counter.

“hey seonghwa!” the tall guy with a lopsided smile behind the register greets. “long time no see. who’s your friend?”

“hey yunho,” seonghwa smiles back. “this is y/n, a vip, so make sure you give us the good stuff.”

“extra sweet potatoes?” yunho laughs. you and seonghwa both nod as yunho continues taking your order, and you find yourself comfortably leaning into seonghwa as you wait for yunho to calculate the price. before seonghwa can even think about taking his wallet out, you’re handing yunho cash for the food, which makes seonghwa sputter.

“what? y/n, i was going to pay,” he whines, and you simply shake your head.

“nope, my turn,” you tell him. “you’ve bought me coffee too many times.”

“but i asked you out! i don’t want you to pay on our first date if i’m the one who brought you here,” he continues to complain.

“so this is a date?” you confirm, right as yunho asks suggestively “oh, this is a date?”

“yunho, give y/n’s money back,” seonghwa says, ignoring the two of you. “i’m paying.”

“yunho, if you give me that money i’ll be forced to leave and stand seonghwa up for our date,” you say, emphasizing the last word. now you’re glad you wore clean pants.

“seonghwa, why don’t you let y/n pay for this, and then you can get the next one?” yunho suggests, sending you a wink before he turns to the kitchen to share your order with the chef. you’re left with a flustered seonghwa, which is a sight you’re not used to, and it makes you laugh.

“c’mon,” you say as you pull on his arm. “let’s go find a table.”

you’re the only ones in the restaurant, so the food comes out pretty quick, and you have to stifle a laugh when you see that someone has arranged the sweet potatoes on a separate plate in the shape of a heart. seonghwa blushes at this, and you’re taken aback by how shy he’s suddenly become.

for some reason, seonghwa showing signs of nervousness puts you at ease, and you lead the conversation to something stupid san told you about the boys and their shenanigans at their dorm. the story has seonghwa laughing, and he confirms that yes, yeosang does have a sword by the tv, and yes, hongjoong did threaten to use it on him after he lost an intense match of fifa.

“in hongjoong’s defense,” seonghwa begins, “i do think yeosang cheated. wooyoung was definitely helping him.”

“it still sounds ridiculous,” you tell him. “why does anybody need a sword?”

“yeosang is just...yeosang,” seonghwa replies. “he’s weird but he won’t admit that to anyone.”

“i’m just saying, if i went to someone’s house and there was a katana by the tv, i’d haul my ass outta there.” seonghwa giggles at how serious you look, but this conversation reminds him...

“you never showed me your room,” he says bluntly. you pause for a moment, spoon halfway to your mouth, and seonghwa realizes how that must sound. “i mean, the paint, your dresser. you never showed me a picture once you fixed it up.”

“oh,” you breathe out. “let me grab my phone, i can show you.”

“show him what?” a familiar voice suddenly asks from the seat next to you. when you notice that san, and some of your other friends, have snuck their way into the restaurant, you have to keep yourself from groaning.

“why are you here.”

“i’m hungry,” san replies, then turns to seonghwa. “you didn’t tell us you were getting dinner.”

“i didn’t want to,” seonghwa deadpans. “ i wanted it to be just me and y/n.”

“too late for that, pal,” honjoong says as he slides into the seat across from you. “hi y/n.”

“hey hongjoong,” you grumble. “please tell me you’re getting your food to go.”

“we were, but then we saw our good friends eating all by themselves and thought we should join them,” hongjoong teases. by now, the rest of the boys have sat down around you, some at other tables, and one of them you don’t recognize. that must be jongho, their younger “roommate” who technically lives in first year housing but doesn’t get along with the other guy in his room. you’ve heard seonghwa complain that jongho eats all of his snacks.

“well, i hope you enjoy your food, but seonghwa and i were just about to leave,” you lie, looking at seonghwa with a stare that pleads ‘please go along with this.’

“where are you going?” wooyoung asks, one table over.

“my apartment,” you respond quickly, standing up as seonghwa follows your cue with a stupidly adorable look on his face.

“oh, perfect!” san chirps. “we’ll come with you!”

so much for your date with seonghwa. it was hard to stop the boys from insisting they all join you at your apartment, especially after yunho said his shift was over and he could really use some destressing. and by destressing he meant booze, so you currently have 8 tipsy boys scattered across your living room. if you thought they were loud before...it’s amazing that your neighbors haven’t complained yet.

it started off innocent enough, you were just playing card games at first and the loser of each round had to drink. then it turned into never have i ever, and each time you put a finger down you had to drink. then yeosang suggested shots, and it really went downhill from there. san tried convincing everyone to play a round of spin the bottle just for the chance of making you and seonghwa kiss, but mingi and wooyoung were the only ones down, so majority ruled there.

“san, stop pouting,” you laugh, noticing that he’s upset over his evil plan not working out.

“it’s fine,” he lies, duck lips on full display.

“spin the bottle is such a tween-y game too,” jongho pipes in. “and we’re adults, so it would be kinda stupid to play it anyway.”

“says the baby of the group,” yeosang scoffs.

“what about truth or dare?” hongjoong suggests. “still immature, but we can make it fun.”

“yes!” san shouts, suddenly back in a positive mood.

“i’ll start,” mingi volunteers. he takes a deep breath as he looks around the room, eyes narrowing when he looks at you and seonghwa. you’re currently smushed into your armchair together, not really by choice, because the couch is completely full and neither of you wanted to sit on the floor (you know how dirty it is, and seonghwa has a bad hip). thankfully, mingi has mercy on you and directs his gaze to his best friend. “yunho, truth or dare?”

“truth,” yunho slurs out. you’d say he’s the opposite of stressed by now.

“did you sleep with that girl you met at the party last week?”

“no,” yunho replies quickly, cheeks turning a knowing shade of red. “i just walked her home.”

“and went missing until the next morning?” yeosang asks. he gets a few snickers, and you laugh a little too because you remember san and wooyoung talking about their friend who disappeared for a few hours last weekend.

“whatever,” yunho groans. “yeosang. truth or dare.”

“dare,” yeosang chooses confidently.

“kiss wooyoung on the cheek.”

“no,” he replies, just as confidently.

“then take another shot,” yunho concedes, waving his hand at the stubborn boy. wooyoung mumbles something about how kissable he is as yeosang downs what looks like more than just a regular shot.

“this is boring,” jongho whines, which makes him the next target. he chooses dare, and you have to detach yourself from seonghwa so you can go into your kitchen and find the lemon juice in your fridge so jongho can chug what’s left. he’s sputtering after a few sips and gives up, grumbling up to you, “ i hate you for that.”

“hey, it wasn’t my dare,” you defend yourself. “you owe me lemon juice.”

“i’ll give it to you if you choose dare,” jongho challenges. you roll your eyes and take the bait, earning a round of ooo’s from the boys around you.

“make her kiss seonghwa,” someone hisses.

“or me!” wooyoung chirps. jongho looks over at him with a death glare, and wooyoung shrugs. “i just want someone to want to kiss me.”

“i think you’re cut off,” hongjoong says as he leans across your coffee table to move the bottle away from wooyoung.

“everyone be quiet!” san shouts. “jongho has to give y/n a dare.”

“hmmm,” jongho starts, tapping his finger on his chin. “what should i do?”

“for someone who said this was boring, you’re really milking this,” seonghwa says under his breath. you’re perched on the arm of the chair, close enough to hear him, but thankfully no one else does.

“what’s that other childish game called?” jongho wonders aloud. “seven minutes in heaven? i think you should do that with seonghwa.”

“do i have to?” you pout, and your reluctance makes seonghwa stiffen. he thinks you said that because you’re uncomfortable, and not because you don’t want the boys pressing their ear up to the door while the two of you make out.

“rules are rules,” hongjoong concludes, nodding his head toward your room. “go have fun. i’ll keep the kids from bothering you.”

you look to seonghwa, who isn’t looking directly at you. you tentatively take his hand, giving it a squeeze before you stand up and lead him to your room. there are so many catcalls, whistles and cheers coming from your friends that you barely hear san say “take your time! it doesn’t have to be just seven minutes!”

once you get to your room, you let seonghwa go in first and then you lock the door behind you. he quirks an eyebrow at that, and you shrug shyly.

“don’t want one of them bursting in,” you explain. seonghwa nods, and you both fall silent. it’s not necessarily awkward, just tense. you both want to do what seven minutes in heaven is meant for, but you’re not gonna make the first move and seonghwa still isn’t sure you even want to be in this situation. so he takes this time to turn around and take your room in, pointing to your dresser.

“is this it?” he asks. you hum out a yes in response, and he runs his hand over the freshly painted wood. “it looks nice. whoever picked out the color sure knows what he’s doing.”

“eh, he’s just lucky,” you joke, and you both laugh. you move to stand next to him and place your hand on top of his. “sorry we couldn’t finish our date.”

“sorry my friends are so annoying,” seonghwa adds.

“sorry san pushed me into your lap earlier,” you continue, and seonghwa smirks.

“well, i didn’t mind that,” he says. “i wanted you to sit with me, but i didn’t want to draw attention.”

“oh,” you squeak, feeling a blush on its way to your cheeks. a heavy silence falls over you, and seonghwa is the first to break it.

“listen, if you don’t want to kiss me, that’s cool,” he begins. “i kinda got the vibe earlier that you didn’t want to do this, and that’s cool. if you don’t want to do this we’re still cool.”

“you don’t sound very cool about it,” you chuckle, and seonghwa’s face flushes. “but i was only nervous because i didn’t know if you wanted to kiss me.”

“oh i want to kiss you,” he says firmly. “have for a while.”

“why don’t you do it then?” you challenge. seonghwa takes a step closer to you, and before you know it he’s pinned you against your dresser. you balance your hands on it and the cool wood helps you ground yourself as your body heats up from having seonghwa so close.

“are you sure?” he asks, only a few inches from your face. you nod and whisper out “i’m sure” and seonghwa quickly cups your face and smothers you in a kiss. it starts off slow, and your face warms at his touch. once you relax into it you move your lips against his, nipping at his bottom lip slightly and earning a groan from the man before you. you take the chance to slip your tongue past his lips as you bring your hands up to the nape of his neck, slowly brushing through his soft hair. his hands find their way to your waist, gripping tightly but not too hard, and he leans in to get as close to you as possible. you keep kissing for a few moments, but eventually you need to breathe so you lightly tap on his neck. he pulls back, breathing heavy, and his smile shines like the most beautiful stars in the sky. “so?”

“so?” you repeat, equally out of breath.

“that was nice.”

“it was.”

“the boys are gonna know we made out.”

“of course they are,” you laugh. “your lips look swollen.”

“so do yours,” he counters.

“but wasn’t that the whole point of us coming in here?” you ask. your hands have fallen to his chest, and you finally get a chance to smooth out the soft velvet of his shirt. and you notice his chest is very, uh, firm, too.

“we didn’t have to kiss,” he says with a shrug. “we could’ve just talked.”

“about what?” you ask with a smile.

“my keen eye for interior design,” he replies. “how sexy you look in low lighting.”

“so you think i’m sexy?” you tease, and seonghwa rolls his eyes.

“i just had my tongue in your mouth, does that answer your question?”

another silence comes over you both, but this one is lighter than before. you’re subconsciously rubbing your hands over his shirt, and seonghwa brings a hand up to cover yours, stopping it right over his heart.

“we don’t have to tell them,” you offer. “i mean, they kept it a secret from us that they were trying to get us together this whole time.”

“oh no, i was fully aware of that,” seonghwa tells you, and you scoff. “do you think i really wanted to get out past midnight just to buy hongjoong some expensive markers? he never even paid me for them.”

“well now i really don’t want to tell them we kissed,” you whine. “how could everyone be in on this except me?”

“it was more fun that way,” seonghwa teases before pecking your lips. “but we can keep this between us, for now.”

“i think we should,” you say with a nod of finality. “it’s more fun that way.”

“c’mon, let’s go back out there before they send a search party.”

you return to the living room before seonghwa (so he can sneak into the bathroom and fix his hair) and you find most of the boys asleep on the floor. you sigh as your eyes meet hongjoong’s, and he shrugs.

“at least they didn’t bother you,” he says.

“can you help me find pillows and blankets for them, please?” you ask, and he nods before jumping into action. he throws one of the couch pillows down to yeosang, who takes it and hugs it to his chest. you have a couple extras in your hall closet and you pass them to yunho, who’s sitting up when you come back. he places one under mingi and another under jongho and keeps the last one for himself. san and wooyoung are on the couch, and hongjoong tells you he’s fine with the armchair. seonghwa is out of the bathroom by now, and, like the perfect man he is, he’s carrying blankets in his arms. the three of you work on getting all the boys covered before you realize that seonghwa doesn’t have a place to sleep.

“i can take another spot on the floor,” he assures you. “do you have another pillow i can use?”

“let him sleep in your room, y/n,” san mumbles from underneath wooyoung. you pause and look at seonghwa, who’s looking back at you with something you can’t read in his eyes.

“it’s not a bad idea,” hongjoong pipes in from somewhere within the blanket cocoon he made for himself. “he was just there. you can put him on the floor.”

“y/n?” seonghwa asks, pulling your attention back to him. “i don’t have to if you’re uncomfortable.”

you would try to fight it, so you could hopefully ignore taunts from the boys in the morning, but you’re suddenly really tired and you just want to lay down.

“i’m ok with it if you are,” you yawn. “take the rest of those blankets, we can use those for your bed.”

“make good choices,” honjoong mumbles as seonghwa leads you back to your room, and you hear san going “oooooo” as you close your door a second time tonight. this time you don’t lock it though, and when you turn around you see the blankets on the floor and seonghwa sprawled out on your usual side of the bed, so you tell him.

“well why don’t you come join me then?” he teases with a grin. you blush and shake your head.

“scoot over.”

he does, but only by an inch. he still looks at you with that flirty glint in his eyes, and you can only shake your head again as you crawl into the tiny space next to him. he immediately wraps an arm around your waist and gives you a tight hug, placing a kiss on your shoulder.

“thank you,” he whispers into your back.

“for what?” you reply.

“for not putting me on the floor. and for liking me.”

you just woke up from maybe the best night of sleep you’ve ever had. seonghwa’s arms and legs are draped over yours, so you can’t get up without waking him, but having him so close is a welcome source of warmth. your apartment is quiet, and the sun is peacefully filtering into your room through your curtain. it’s the perfect moment, with your perfect boy, until-

“i think they’re still asleep,” you hear someone whisper from the hallway.

“wooyoung, leave them alone!” another voice hisses. there’s silence for a moment, and then a smack, followed by someone jiggling the doorknob to your room. you quickly untangle yourself from seonghwa before you watch as the door cracks open a bit, revealing wooyoung in all his bed-headed glory. you close your eyes as much as you can while still peeking at who’s sneaking into your room, and you see jongho close behind him. he must’ve been the one who got smacked. or did the smacking. either way, they’re both staring at you and seonghwa in your bed, but you notice wooyoung smile and pause.

“i knew it! they definitely got together last night.”

“how do you know?” jongho asks. “maybe y/n let seonghwa sleep on the bed because of his old man hips.”

“whatever. they’re in the same bed, so that’s at least something,” wooyoung replies. “lame, but still something.”

“what did you expect?” jongho asks incredulously. “you thought we would catch them doing it?”

“i mean, not exactly, but couldn’t i get a little cuddling maybe?”

“you want me to cuddle you hyung?” jongho deadpans.

“yes, actually-”

“hey!” a third voice whisper shouts. you hear footsteps and then you see hongjoong pulling wooyoung out of your room by the neck of his shirt. “leave them alone. and you, jongho, i’m surprised you’re playing along with this.”

“well...” jongho mumbles.

“well what?” hongjoong asks, sounding like the mom-est mom to ever mom.

“they’re the only ones that know how to make breakfast.”

“both of you, out! now!” hongjoong semi-shouts, and you feel seonghwa stirring behind you. hongjoong doesn’t realize you’re both awake and closes the door as he leaves.

“what time is it?” seonghwa grumbles out, and your heart skips a beat hearing how deep his voice is when he wakes up.

“early,” you reply, turning around to be face to face with him. his arms slowly snake around you as you look up at him and share a sleepy smile. “how can you look this good when you first wake up?”

“weird, i wanted to ask you the same thing,” seonghwa replies, leaning in to kiss you but you touch your fingers to his lips and stop him, so he pouts.

“uh uh, not until i brush my teeth,” you say as you try to get up, but seonghwa’s grip on your waist keeps you down.

“please,” he pouts again, sparkly eyes on full display as he pleads with you. it takes about half a second for you to cave and kiss him quickly, catching him off guard. he shifts to pull you on top of him and deepen the kiss, but he loses his grip on you and you’re able to slip out of bed before he can stop you. a noise comes from deep in his chest that almost sounds like a growl, and you shoot him a glare.

“hey, you got your kiss,” you warn. “now i’m going to make breakfast for the gremlins. do you want to help me?”

after the intrusion into your bedroom, wooyoung obviously told the boys what he saw. but, like jongho said, most of them thought it was just because of seonghwa’s hips that made you share a bed with him. there wasn’t enough evidence otherwise, and none of them really expected either of you to make a move despite their efforts. but they’re starting to get suspicious.

little do they know, after the set up fell into place, seonghwa wanted to take you on a real date. the only way to do that without your friends knowing was to sneak around without them, which was kind of fun. it was nice having this bubble with seonghwa, just the two of you, but it was getting harder to avoid your friends. seonghwa lived with them after all, so they pestered him about how often he was out and who he might be out with.

“san keeps asking if you’re a good kisser. i told him i didn’t know, and then he asked if he could find out for me. should i be concerned about that?”

“we need to be more careful, yeosang said he saw us at the taco place yesterday, and he said we hold hands weird.”

“hongjoong has been saving seats for us at the bookstore, and each time we don’t show up i think he steals something from me.”

you have been ditching study group lately, but that’s more because you need to do some deep studying for your other finals and your friends are too much of a distraction. seonghwa can be distracting too, but at least he can take a hint and back down when you really need to focus. it’s been nice actually, just spending time in his presence. you were so nervous around him just a few weeks ago, and now you feel like you could trust him with just about anything.

today, you don’t get any personal study time, though. your music theory final is coming up and seonghwa wants you to get all the terms memorized before the review session in class tomorrow. he’s motivating you with a kiss for each right answer and the promise of him making dinner once you’re done. you’re currently cruising on five wrong in a row, and you’re getting frustrated.

“c’mon y/n, you know this,” seonghwa encourages you, but you just whine in response. “we did this like four minutes ago, and i told you the answer so you could remember it.”

“yeah, well i obviously didn’t,” you snap, and seonghwa fakes being hurt. “sorry. can we skip this and come back to it?”

“sure,” he agrees quickly. “but first you need to write down the circle of fifths for me.”

“i hate you.”

“hm, wrong answer,” he hums. “but kiss anyway. maybe that’ll keep you from getting so grumpy.”

“i am not grumpy,” you defend after kissing him gently. “i’m stressed.”

“you know what you need?”

“hm?”

“you need to go on another date,” he begins. “with me, obviously.”

“damn, i wanted to know if yunho was free,” you tease, and seonghwa doesn’t think it’s funny. “now who’s grumpy?”

“ignoring that,” he scoffs, but you can tell he’s trying not to smile.

“when would we go? i’m really busy the next few days.”

“what about after class? we could both clean up and do something nice before we get some dinner?” seonghwa suggests. “why don’t we go to that art exhibit you told me about?”

“ugh,” you groan as you learn your head on his shoulder. “that sounds amazing, but we both said we’d be at study group tomorrow, remember? hongjoong practically begged me to be there, and i said i would ask you to come.”

“what about not letting them know we’re a thing?” he pouts. you don’t tell him about the youngest two that saw you all cuddled up, but instead you assure him that you inviting him to study group wouldn’t look unusual to the boys.

“plus, if we both cancel last minute, they’d know for sure we were up to something together,” you continue. “so yes, we need to go on another date, but just not tomorrow.”

“fine,” he mumbles. “now i am grumpy.”

“would something from the cafe make it better, my little boba ball?” you ask in a baby voice.

“ooh, actually, boba sounds good,” seonghwa smiles. “let’s go.”

the next day you get to the bookstore late because your professor gave a pop quiz at the end of class and you’ve been so busy studying music theory you forgot to study for anything else, so you needed all the time you could get. when you finally arrive, all of the boys are there, surprisingly. since you’ve never seen yunho, mingi and jongho here before you’re a little confused, but happy to see them nonetheless.

as you walk up to the usual spot, you notice a coffee cup sitting in front of an empty chair, and you point to it as the boys greet you.

“is this for me?” you ask, placing your bag on the ground before grabbing the warm mug. “thank you, coffee angel.”

“you’re welcome, actual angel,” seonghwa replies, and you almost choke on your first sip. what is he doing?? you’re supposed to be sneaky sneaks and keep your relationship quiet, but here he is flirting with you in front of everyone!

except, that’s what he did before you started dating too, so it’s not out of the ordinary. in fact, no one pays any mind to it, so you’re left with a burnt tongue and blushy cheeks while seonghwa looks at you with a stare that only you would understand. you quickly shoot him a wink before you put your mug down and reach for your notes.

“um, hello? what are you guys doing?” you ask yeosang next to you, who’s rabidly tapping at his phone, just like everyone else. if they weren’t distracted they might have picked up on the vibes between you and seonghwa, but thankfully they’re the oblivious ones now.

“playing a game,” half of them respond, just as hongjoong says “writing lyrics” and jongho mumbles “texting my mom.”

“aren’t we supposed to study?” you ask. “or did you already learn everything in the world while i was gone?”

“well you’ve missed a lot of study sessions, y/n,” san begins. “so yes, we have learned everything. now we just come here to hang out.”

“so then why did you insist on me being here, joong?” you ask newly orange-haired hongjoong. it’s been a while since you’ve seen him, he must’ve dyed it recently.

“we missed hanging out with you,” he says simply, eyes peeking up from his phone. your heart constricts at this, and you catch seonghwa’s eyes again. you might have to rethink the whole sneaking around thing if they really do miss you.

“yeah, we missed you AND we had to make sure you and seonghwa are still spending time together,” wooyoung adds, wiggling his eyebrows.

“where have you been anyway?” yeosang asks. “you don’t have other friends.”

“yes i do,” you scoff.”

“give me names and numbers.”

“ignore him,” yunho tells you, and you nod.

“i always do. but i’ve been really stressed about finals, so i had to do some soul searching on my own to decide if i need to graduate or not.”

“seems fair,” mingi agrees. “i almost had to drop a class.”

“because he forgot he was even enrolled in it,” jongho clarifies, and you laugh.

“but seonghwa has been missing a lot lately too,” san starts. “i wonder what he’s been doing.”

“or who,” wooyoung snickers, and hongjoong reaches over mingi to slap him.

“i haven’t been feeling well,” seonghwa says with a shrug. “i’ve mostly been in my room, or at the pharmacy to get medicine.”

“oh, so you could’ve bought new paper towels for the dorm then, huh?” hongjoong asks, and as the two of them start to bicker, yeosang nudges your arm.

“i saw you two,” he says quietly. “at the mexican restaurant.”

“i know,” you whisper back.

“so i know you’re dating.”

“are you gonna say anything?”

“hmmm, no,” he thinks. “but you have to buy my silence.”

“with coffee?” you offer, and yeosang smiles. he stands up and puts his phone away before speaking, looking directly at seonghwa.

“my best friend y/n is gonna buy me coffee, we’ll be back,” he says as he loops his arm around your shoulders. seonghwa watches as you walk away (and stares at your ass) but he’s mostly thinking about how he’s a little jealous right now. like, he knows you wouldn’t do anything, he trusts you, but he doesn’t want his friends thinking you have a thing for anyone but him. so while you’re gone, he talks.

“i haven’t been sick,” he admits. “i’ve been seeing y/n.”

“we all knew, dude,” hongjoong says casually, and everyone agrees.

“then why didn’t you say anything?!”

“because YOU weren’t saying anything,” jongho replies.

“yeah, we figured that we did enough trying to get the two of you together, so if you didn’t end up dating then that was your fault. we were just waiting on you to make a move,” san explains.

“then why did you let us lie to you like that?”

“it was fun,” wooyoung shrugs. “by the way, did y/n let you sleep in the bed because of your hips, or because you wanted to cuddle?”

the red tint on seonghwa’s cheeks gives him away, and the boys start laughing and ooo’ing so loud he’s afraid you’ll hear it over by the coffee counter.

“ok, ok, just. keep this quiet for now,” he says. “y/n may still want this to be private.”

“but you just told us about it,” yunho says. “why would you do that if you knew y/n wouldn’t want you to?”

“well,” seonghwa begins. “i need your help with a date.”

seemingly by an act of god, you have time this weekend to go on a date with seonghwa. little did you know, he’s the reason your plans suddenly freed up. san said you could critique him and wooyoung for their dance final another day, hongjoong said he would send you his music theory notes from the review and save you hours of studying and then yeosang found the exact spanish book you needed to finish your performance final ahead of time. it was the perfect circumstances, orchestrated by your perfect boy and his perfect-adjacent friends, who all agreed to help him with this (hopefully) perfect date.

it starts with seonghwa picking you up from your apartment, coffee in hand.

“you’re the man of my dreams, you know that?” you say in passing as you grab the warm to-go cup. even if you were only saying it lightly, it made seonghwa’s heart soar. you notice he hasn’t said anything to you, so you meet his eyes to find them full of stars like always, but this time there’s something scheme-y in there. he’s up to something.

“are you ready for the best date of your life?” he asks with a smile that puts the stars in his eyes to shame.

“yes, i think,” you respond, grabbing your keys and locking your door. “but i don’t know what we’re doing.”

“and it will stay that way until we get there,” seonghwa says firmly as he laces his hand into yours. you squeeze his hand and sigh.

“i guess i just have to trust you then.”

“but that won’t be hard right?”

“wait, didn’t you say something earlier about going to that art exhibit? is that it?” you question, even though you know he won’t budge. seonghwa just shakes his head no and punches the button for the elevator. a moment of silence passes before you guess again. “a movie? you rented out a movie theater, like you said you wanted to?”

“i tried, but it was expensive,” he admits and you have to laugh. “funds are tight right now.”

“i watched you buy a couple hundred dollars worth of legos the other day babe. maybe that’s why the date fund is lacking.”

“you’re not coming between me and my collectables, y/n,” seonghwa scolds. the elevator pings to open to the parking garage under your building, and you’re confused for a moment before he explains. “i want this to be a nice date, so yunho let me borrow his car. it would be no fun if we show up all sweaty because we were walking.”

yunho’s car, which is actually pretty nice thanks to all the tips he gets from flirting with clientele, is parked by the elevator. seonghwa leads you to your door and opens it for you, revealing a basket of flowers and candies in the seat. you coo as you pick it up, and seonghwa looks on proudly. you lean over to give him a kiss, and you whisper your thanks as you pull away.

“that was mingi’s idea,” seonghwa tells you, smiling brightly “i got all your favorites.”

“i see that.”

“but look around the flowers,” he guides you. “there’s something else.”

you hold the basket up to eye level, noticing the silver sparkle around the stems of the flowers. is it glitter? you tug at a flower and realize it’s a chain, and attached is a hand drawn star charm to match the tattoo on the back of seonghwa’s neck.

“seonghwa, this is beautiful,” you say breathlessly. “we’re gonna match! that’s so cute. who’s idea was this?”

“would you believe me if i said it was mine?”

“no.”

“that’s what jongho said too,” seonghwa laughs. “it was his idea.”

“tell him thank you,” you say as you play with the charm. “mingi and yunho too. it’s a good date so far.”

“oh baby, it hasn’t officially started yet.”

in the car, seonghwa plays a mix of songs that he really likes, and he’s mixed in some of your favorites too. he has to keep convincing you that the songs aren’t clues, because you ask every time a new song plays.

“so are the songs just distractions?” you ask, finally giving up on getting any information out of him.

“why do you ask that?” he smirks as he turns down a familiar road.

“because i can tell you just took the long way to the record store,” you explain. “are you stalling?”

“me, what? why?” his response does nothing to manage your suspicions, and suddenly you remember how your friends have helped with the date so far. are they all in on this? you need answers.

“seonghwa, i swear to god, if san or wooyoung jumps out to surprise me wherever we’re going-”

“that won’t happen,” seonghwa laughs while he parks the car. “we’re here anyway, and i promise this is the last surprise of the night.”

“the record store?” you question, looking up at the shop you’ve been to countless times to shop and to bother hongjoong while he works.

“yeah, you said there was a new album out you wanted to get, right?”

“yeah,” you blush. “but i just said that in passing, i didn’t expect you to remember.”

“y/n, i want to know everything about you,” seonghwa says seriously. “so of course i remembered. wait, don’t get out yet. i’ll open the door for you.”

as seonghwa helps you out of the car, you quiz him on the other things you’ve said around him that you didn’t think he remembered. sadly, he does remember you saying your favorite disney movie is ratatouille and you’ve always wanted to try the mushroom/cheese concoction remy makes in the first scene.

“that’s a little embarrassing,” you sigh as you reach for the door. you’re going to complain some more about how seonghwa doesn’t need to remember everything about you, but the sight in front of you makes you stop mid-breath.

the record store has been decorated from floor to ceiling in fairy lights, and there’s more flowers all over the place. as you look around, you notice the flowers are tucked in the shelves next to your favorite artists. next to the door is the album you were talking about, and a little further down you see your favorite album of all time with a few extra flowers next to it. you’re still taking everything in when you notice hongjoong behind the counter.

“did you help him with this?” you ask breathlessly, and hongjoong nods.

“yeah, but the flowers next to the albums was my idea,” hongjoong explains. “we’re running a new special called “y’n’s favorites” so everything that’s marked with a flower is yours, if you want it. everything is on the house.”

“i...i don’t know what to say,” you start. you turn to seonghwa and there are those starry eyes that you love to see. you reach out to cup his face and smile. “thank you. this is...perfect.”

“it’s even more perfect now that i’m here!” wooyoung shouts from the front door of the shop, followed by san and yeosang. you look at seonghwa and all he does is laugh.

“what? at least he didn’t jump out and scare you,” seonghwa teases.

“oh, i would never,” wooyoung nods with a half-serious look on his face. “but i definitely wouldn’t do that when i have your dinner in my hands, i can’t let all this hard work spill.”

“especially not on my clean floor,” hongjoong warns.

“you made dinner for us?” you ask wooyoung, but you’re looking at seonghwa, who simply shrugs.

“yep, i made one of your favorites and then threw in a couple recipes i thought you’d both like,” wooyoung says as he and the two other boys place food down on the counter by the register.

“and what did you two help with?” you ask san and yeosang.

“who do you think made this place so beautiful?” yeosang asks incredulously.

“yeosang did the lights and i bought all the flowers,” san explains with a smile that makes his eyes turn into happy half moons. “you’d be surprised how many places i had to go to get all your favorites.”

“i really don’t know what to say,” you whisper in disbelief. “i can’t believe you all did this for me.”

“it was all seonghwa’s idea,” san tells you. “we did it for both of you.”

“yeah, we’re just his little minions,” yeosang jokes, and wooyoung giggles.

“you tell me how that food tastes, got it?” he asks as he backs out of the store. “don’t say anything mean though. i only accept compliments.”

“wooyoung,” seonghwa smiles tightly. “please leave.”

wooyoung holds the door open for san and yeosang as he gives seonghwa a thumbs up. san waves goodbye sweetly and yeosang gives you a knowing smile before the door closes behind them.

“well, i think that’s my cue to go,” hongjoong says, handing the keys to seonghwa. “don’t make a mess. if i get fired, i’m selling all the stuff i stole from you when you were sneaking around with y/n and not telling us about it.”

“i’ll keep him under control,” you assure hongjoong, who nods as heads to the door. you don’t see him leave because seonghwa has stepped in front of you, and he places his hands on your waist to pull you closer.

“so,” he begins.

“so.”

“what do you want to listen to while we eat?” he asks, pulling you by the waist over to a row of records. you stand there quietly, looking over the albums hongjoong pulled to the front for you, and you just can’t believe how much work went into this date. you can’t believe how sweet it is that each of your friends helped, and you put your hand on seonghwa’s and give it a squeeze.

“hwa,” you whisper. he hums in response, but you place your hand on his cheek and guide his gaze to yours.

“thank you,” you tell him. “thank you for this.”

he smiles at you with a look in his eyes that can’t be anything else but love, and you smile back with that much love, if not more, in your own face. you use the hand on seonghwa’s chin to guide his lips to yours, and you lose yourself in the kiss, in seonghwa, for who knows how long.

“mm, y/n,” he mumbles against your lips before detaching. “the food will get cold.”

“you’re right,” you sigh. “but we didn’t pick any music.”

“how about this?” he asks, pulling an album out from the top shelf. you smile at the cover, knowing exactly what song seonghwa wants you to hear.

“perfect,” you agree. “i’ll put it on while you get the food?”

and that’s how you end up eating the perfect meal, on your perfect date, with all of your favorite things around you, sitting right next to your perfect boy.

#seonghwa #seonghwa fluff #seonghwa imagine #seonghwa one shot #ateez one shot #ateez imagine #ateez imagines #seonghwa imagines #ateez fluff #park seonghwa #park seonghwa fluff #park seonghwa imagine #park seonghwa imagines #park seonghwa one shot

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a-small-batch-of-dragons · 3 years

Text

Black

Prompts: After POF, Roman takes over the abandoned color black. He becomes the hated side that Virgil used to be. By most, anyway. Janus and Virgil are concered. Patton chooses to ignore it. Romans room is really cold? and boy is he touch starved - anon

(Sanders sides Prompt) Any one of the sides is touch starved. fluff. (You dont have to do this just thought I might ask) - anon

Hello there!! I just wanna say that I love your work and I think you’re such a talented writer. Idk if this is a weird ask but would you consider writing Roman angst with the song “it’s OK I wouldn’t remember me either” by crywank as like inspiration? Thank you so much <3 -anon

buckel up babes this one's a doozy

Read on Ao3

Warnings: implied/reference self-harm by way of self-negligence, pretty intense self-hatred and neglect that could verge on suicidal, but NO ONE DIES, everyone's fine at the end, we don't break shit and not fix it in my house

Pairings: it is platonic found family hours

Word Count: 5697

Do you know what no one ever tells you about the color black?

It’s seamless.

There are no cracks, no tears, no imperfections, because everything’s so dark you can’t tell what’s a trick of the light and what isn’t. Everything blends together. At first, second, even third glance, it’s perfect. Pristine, even. It hides absolutely everything. It’s intimidating, honestly, that level of deception. The way it can make anything look like it’s meant to be there, as if to live the colorless and lightless life is all it was ever destined for.

Darkness has always found a way of feeling like home, even to the ones who are afraid of it.

You either die the hero or live long enough to see yourself become the villain.

Roman hadn’t wanted to go to the wedding. He didn’t want to go, but it’s what Patton wanted. It’s what Thomas would’ve wanted. If Roman hadn’t been so loud. But it hurt, it did, when they said that they shouldn’t go to the callback because there was such a slim likelihood of Thomas winning. Because Roman couldn’t win. But Roman wasn’t supposed to be the villain and do something bad so he sent Thomas to the wedding.

Bruises were supposed to be yellow, or green, or purple, not black.

But if he had yellow, green, or purple bruises, he would’ve blamed a yellow, green, or purple Side. And that was bad.

So he hid them, because as he learned, no one was looking for them anyway. Patton cared when he didn’t show up to the video and then he was there and oh, having someone there, even if they only cared a little, was like rainfall in a desert, it was wonderful, Roman would’ve sung if he thought it wouldn’t make everything worse. But Roman was good, so he never complained, and he did his job to the best of his ability.

But what if his job was bad?

But there are two Creativities, a Roman and a Remus. And no one else liked Remus, because Remus was bad and Roman was good. But Remus isn’t bad, he’s just the opposite of Roman. And Roman didn’t want to be Remus because Remus was bad. But Remus isn’t bad.

Creativity isn’t bad.

Bruises aren’t supposed to be black but they can’t be red.

Roman isn’t supposed to be the villain but what else do you call someone who laughs at vulnerability, who scorns people’s earnest attempts to help, who single-handedly ruins someone’s life?

Roman isn’t supposed to be the villain, but bruises aren’t supposed to cover every inch of his skin unless he deserves it.

His skin burns. It crawls and aches and screams and darkens into bruises. His throat aches from the wordless screams and the horrible things he’s said to everyone. He’s been so selfish, he’s tried to make everything go his way, tried to make it about him, not about Thomas, because everything they do is supposed to help Thomas, help Thomas, that’s what they’re supposed to do, they’re supposed to help Thomas, not themselves, why is he doing this, why is he doing this?

Because he’s the villain.

Roman cries.

What else is he supposed to do?

He cries until the tears grow thick, sluggish, oozing out of his eyes until he can’t see anything but them, until his breath grows thick and his chest heavy. He cries until he has to struggle to open his eyes because of how swollen they are, how globulous the tears have become on the ends of his lashes. He cries until his head splits and his chest wails from the pain he isn’t supposed to have but deserves, deserves every little bit. He cries until his body is consumed by the bruises.

His costume is a straightjacket. He needs it off. The white hurts now, it burns his arms and cuffs his wrists. He doesn’t deserve it so he rips it off. Every seam that he ruins is another bruise. The rips are so loud they burrow into some soft part of his brain and live there. The white is still imperfect because it’s on him.

Only when his costume lies in tatters around him, his sash torn off and thrown away, far away, does the white look pure.

He cries himself to sleep with a smile on his face.

Far, far away, a black hoodie is tugged back into the Conscious Mindscape.

When Roman wakes, his head is full of static.

His lungs inflate and collapse on autopilot, driven by the merciless pump of some distant machine, turning the crank to draw air in and out, in and out.

His hands are numb, fingertips rubbed raw and inflamed from tearing relentlessly at fabric. He turns them slowly and it’s like watching himself in a video game.

His face is cold. He paws at his cheeks and feels sticky residue, etched into his skin. His eyes stick slightly when he blinks and he doesn’t know if that’s just his face or if there’s something else.

He is swathed in black fabric, an old threadbare hoodie that has gone years unloved, untouched, unseen. It’s selfishness that makes him tug it closer, feel a faint bubble of pressure on his screaming body.

He should get up, he should go make sure he hasn’t hurt anyone else with his tantrum again, he should apologize.

But…what would be the point?

Like Patton asked, does there come a point when someone keeps apologizing so much that you just have to admit they’re bad?

Roman isn’t good. Has he ever been?

Something interrupts the pleasant numbness and it shoots from his chest to the soft points at the base of his wrists, making his hands tingle. He decides he doesn’t like it. He doesn’t want it. He wants everything to stop.

He’s selfish, they all know that, he’s just going to end up hurting them anyway, so why bother trying to fix it?

Apathy, his tired brain supplies when he lies there, unmoving, on the ground, for hours and hours and hours, unwilling and uncaring to fix things.

But that can’t be right. Roman is here because he cared too much, he did too much, he was too much. How can he now be the epitome of not caring at all?

If only he never cared, if only he wasn’t so attached, if only.

If only he had been Apathy, maybe he wouldn’t have been so hurt.

His pride got him here. His pride, his wants, his his his. He wanted everything and burned down the things that would’ve helped him get there because he couldn’t do it right. He is the villain and villains always have too much pride.

Pride. Apathy.

Prapathy.

Apride.

I’m not Creativity anymore, he thinks to himself as he lies there, still on the floor as his chest aches and his eyes sting and the sticky residue drips down his cheeks onto the bruises. He stares and stares and stares at the wall and a faint part of his mind that exists outside of the static realizes he never did get around to fixing that crack in the baseboard.

Pride, apathy. It doesn’t matter. There’s a much easier word that he can use to describe both of them.

Wrong.

—————————————————————

“I don’t know, Thomas,” Logan sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose, “I don’t think that’s a valid solution either.”

“But it makes sense,” Virgil protests, shoving his hands into his pockets, “all we have to do is not talk to anybody else—“

“But that will hurt their feelings!”

“But we won’t hurt ourselves.”

Janus and Patton look at each other for a moment before Patton sighs and scratches the back of his head.

“I—I don’t know, this…this feels weird.”

“None of us are happy about this, Padre,” Virgil mutters, “but it’s the best solution we’ve got.”

“Real high bar we’re setting there, isn’t it?”

“Listen, Snake Face, if you’ve got a better idea—“

“Virgil, enough.” Logan shakes his head. “We need to keep thinking.”

“We’ve been at this for an hour, Logan,” Thomas says cautiously, “I don’t know what else you think we’re gonna get to.”

“We’ve already passed the optimal point for productivity, yes.”

“Oh, well, we can’t just give up now!” Patton puts his hands on his hips. “I’m sure if we just keep at it for a little longer—“

“You said that half an hour ago, Patton.”

“And I’ll say it again!”

“Because that’s going to make everything go much easier.”

Thomas sighs as the Sides fall back into bickering. Normally, this wouldn’t be anything out of the ordinary—pretty much all they do is argue back and forth—but Logan’s right. They’ve made almost no progress. He finds himself staring at the TV.

Why is he staring at the TV?

He frowns, tilting his head. It’s literally just his TV. Why is he so fixated on it right now? It’s not like it’s gone anywhere, it’s sitting right where it always is. He stares at it most of the day, why is it so weird that he’s looking at it now?

Wait—

“Guys,” he interrupts, still staring at the thing he’s not supposed to be able to see like this, “where’s Roman?”

The room pauses. Then Logan sighs.

“Oh, of course, that’s why we’ve been having such a hard time coming up with solutions, we don’t have Roman.”

At Virgil’s side-eye, he glances around to see similar looks of disbelief on the other’s faces.

“What?”

“Did you…did you just admit we need Roman?”

“He is Creativity, it makes sense that if we are struggling to be creative, he isn’t here.”

“Okay, that makes more sense.” Virgil shakes his head. “Thought you were admitting he was important or something.”

“Please, his head is big enough as it is.”

Janus hides a snort.

“Why didn’t he show up earlier,” Thomas asks, “he’s normally one of the first of you to get here.”

Virgil shrugs. “I dunno, I haven’t seen that much of him lately.”

“Is he…okay?”

“Who the hell knows, he’s Roman.”

“My guess is he’s been in his room,” Logan says, glancing at Roman’s usual spot, “I haven’t seen him either.”

Thomas doesn’t miss the way Janus and Patton glance at each other. “If you two have information now might be the time to share it.”

“Roman…hasn’t come out of his room,” Patton says after a beat, “not since…”

“Wait, he hasn’t come out since the wedding?”

Janus shakes his head. “I’ve barely seen him open his door.”

“That doesn’t…normally happen, does it?”

“No,” Patton says, “and, uh, he doesn’t normally ignore us either.”

“Ignore you?”

“We’ve tried knocking. It doesn’t work.”

“Perhaps Thomas can summon him,” Logan offers, “you have more power than any of us do, he’d have to answer you.”

“Well, here goes nothing. Creativity!”

Someone pops up in front of the TV.

Someone in a white costume with green embellishments and a mustache.

“Remus?”

Remus glares at them, his Morningstar at his side, his costume white, pristine, and light.

“What the fuck have you done with my brother?”

—————————————————————

It’s been weeks.

The fans have accepted Remus as Creativity. They think that the videos are better than ever. They think this was Thomas’s plan from the beginning.

There is one end card where the Sides are watching a movie and some of them spot a dark figure in the corner. Who could this be? Is this the mysterious orange Side everyone has been waiting for? Is this the Side that’s been hurting Thomas so much?

Zoom and enhance. It’s Virgil’s old hoodie. They’re sitting where Remus used to sit. They’re not staring at the screen, they’re looking at the others. What could this mean?

Someone spots the faint outline of a tiny crown perched atop the figure’s head.

And then, well, then it all makes sense.

There was always one Side that messed up everything, that made everything more complicated. There was always one Side that, if you thought about it, you could trace everything back to. There was always one Side that was told he was making the bad choice and yet, never seemed to learn.

They start to put together timelines, evidence, essay-length meta posts on how of course, this is the plan, why didn’t they see it before? Those that had disliked him from the start crow about how they were right, how everyone doubted them but look who’s laughing now. They point out how he’s become a Dark Side, maybe he was always a Dark Side, and how incredible would that storytelling be? To warn against the pressures of society’s expectations, the idea of good versus bad, or authentic versus forced. How of course, they’re wearing Virgil’s old hoodie because they’re the hated Side now. How they’re not looking at the screen because that’s not what they want, they want to be a part of the famILY.

Vitriolic rants. Accusations. Vent fics. The unsympathetic tag is overflowing.

Because who else could the villain be?

—————————————————————

Roman lives in the cold now.

His fireplace isn’t lit anymore. The door to the Imagination doesn’t work anymore. The blankets on his bed aren’t thick enough anymore. He drifts through a haze where only the emergency systems in his brain are online, where only the awareness needed to sleep, breathe, and move the little bits he needs to move are present.

He doesn’t know that there’s nothing behind the red door anymore, that when Janus and Virgil come to knock on it, worried, or when Remus storms through the Imagination and tries to knock it down by force, there’s nothing for them to find.

He doesn’t know that a new door, a black door, leads from his room to the hallway, far away from any of the other rooms. He doesn’t know that it’s so dark back here that no one would be able to tell there was a door if they didn’t put their nose right up against it.

He doesn’t know and he doesn’t care.

A new kind of ache settles in his bones now. Pain is an old friend, but he’s yet to give suffering a proper handshake.

He misses when he could go and ask someone for help.

He misses when Patton would turn to him without any judgment in his eyes, without any ‘well, you know, kiddo—‘, without any ‘let’s start off with—‘, just the soft words of I’m here, I’ll help you. He misses being able to walk up to Patton’s door and knock on it and know that he would be safe on the other side.

Patton would open the door and soften, his mouth curling up into a small smile as he says hey, kiddo, come in. He would sit Roman down on the bed and press a glass of water into his hands. He would rub his back as he drank, taking the empty glass gently and cupping Roman’s face in his hands. He would ask what’s wrong, sweetheart, what can I do? And Roman would say he just wants a hug, he just wants to not be alone for a bit. And Patton would smile and coo about how Roman was always welcome here, sweetheart, I’m right here, I’ll take care of you. And Roman could fall asleep with his head on Patton’s chest and believe that everything was okay.

He misses when he could walk up to Logan and ask for help and he wouldn’t be scoffed at or turned away, he wouldn’t be looked at suspiciously and asked what he really wanted. He misses when Logan could come to him too and just spend time together.

Logan would knock on his door and ask if you have a moment, would you like to walk with me? And Roman would smile and say, of course, he always has time for Logan, and they could go somewhere in the Imagination and just talk. And Logan would say that’s an interesting idea, I wonder if—and they would walk and talk for hours. And Roman could bustle up to Logan’s door and say I’ve just thought of something, and Logan would open his door and be happy to talk with Roman and it would be okay.

Roman curls up tighter and feels nothing.

He wishes he could have something to miss for Virgil. He wishes they could have bonded over their love of Disney, their want to talk about the things they’re interested in, or even the need to just have someone else in the room with them for a bit. He wishes their relationship wasn’t just spitting barbs at each other, each hoping to hit the bullseye first and knock the other one out of the race. He wishes he could’ve done better.

He wishes he could have something to miss for Janus. He wishes they could’ve done this right, that they could’ve bonded over the want to keep Thomas safe but also have him be himself. He wishes that he hadn’t laughed, hadn’t scorned, hadn’t fallen back on his pride to keep himself safe at the expense of Thomas. He wishes that maybe, just maybe, if he had been a better puppet, then he wouldn’t have been dropped so suddenly.

But as it stands now, more than anything he wishes he could hear them when they say the things they say about him because then he could figure out which bruises were theirs and take comfort in knowing that they still touch him in some way.

The bruises are a constant now. From the online hate to the casual remarks from the others to the way that Patton hasn’t even tried to come find him anymore—he can hear that, you know—he can’t turn over without landing on a new smattering of bruises. The hoodie helps to cushion the blow a little bit.

He misses Remus.

Remus was…

…Remus was everything.

Roman misses his other half. Roman misses his brother. Roman misses his Creativity.

When they were small they would curl around each other as if they could fuse if they focused hard enough. They would wrap their arms around each other so tightly that it would be a pleasant ache when they woke, never minding because they were tighter. Remus was always so warm and Roman hoarded every single bit he could get.

Roman was cruel to push his brother away and now he understands how it feels.

He misses Thomas.

He misses when he was allowed to go and see Thomas. When he could talk to Thomas. When his presence was celebrated or at the very least, tolerated. He misses it. He misses helping.

But he’s helping now, by staying away.

He’s cold.

He’s so cold.

—————————————————————

do you remember what it felt like

to be touched?

press of fingertips against shoulders

bump of a forehead against yours

palms meeting and parting a mere second later

in days gone by

do you remember

warm?

humans thrive off physical contact,

we’re not built to hold each other

at arms’ length.

infants will die

if they aren’t held enough.

and I am so

cold

—————————————————————

Something is wrong and even Patton can’t ignore it anymore.

The Sides shuffle uneasily in front of the red door until Remus raises his hand to knock against it.

“Roman?”

Silence.

“Roman, please, please, just—just say something.”

Silence.

“Where the fuck are you, Roman?”

“Don’t yell,” Logan mumbles, “you’ll make him think we’re angry at him.”

Remus takes a deep breath.

“We’re not angry, Ro-bro, we’re just—just please make some noise.”

Silence.

“…we’re coming in, Roman.”

But they can’t. Because as Remus turns the knob on the door, it falls forward. The entire door comes off just to reveal—

A blank wall. With no sign that there was ever a room behind it.

Thomas can hear the scream.

—————————————————————

Roman hears the scream and can’t move. But he can close his eyes and reach out and see what’s going on. After all, he hasn’t done anything, so something must be wrong if someone else is screaming.

He feels something in his chest twist and snap.

“Re?”

Across the Mindscape, Remus’s head jerks up.

“Ro,” he breathes, getting to his feet and rushing off down the hall as the others hurry after him, “Ro!”

“Remus, what’s going on?”

“Why isn’t Roman’s room there anymore?”

“Where are you going?”

They barrel into the hallway and smack into a black door. Logan’s eyes widen as he realizes what’s happened.

“Roman’s become a Dark Side,” he says, fingers scrabbling where the door meets the wall, “he’s—he’s really hurt, we have to help—“

“Move, L, I’m gonna break the door down.”

“You’re not gonna do it without me.”

“Roman!”

Roman turns his head to look at the door. Are they…here? The hoodie rasps against his undead skin and he winces. There are still bruises.

“Roman!”

The door shudders its frame. He could open it. He could. He just has to reach out and—

“Ro!”

Remus.

The door unlatches and his brother pours into the room, letting out a wail when he spots Roman in the bed.

Janus hisses as soon as he crosses the threshold, this room is freezing. It feels as if no one’s moved for years inside, as if the heat has been sucked out entirely. His gaze flies to Remus, who’s over on the bed, his hands scrabbling at something in black material.

Roman.

“Oh, little prince,” he whispers, horrified, “no, no, no—“

“We have to get him out,” Logan orders, startling Remus into action as he scoops Roman into his arms, “we have to get him warm. His core temperature is too low.”

“Shower? Bath?”

“No, if we shock his system we could make it worse. Janus, I need your heating pads, Patton, something warm to drink.”

Janus and Patton vanish.

“Virgil, weighted blankets, Remus—“

“I’m here.” As Virgil ducks away as well, Remus helps Logan cradle the limp and freezing form of his brother in their arms as they begin to rush out of that horrible, horrible room. “You thinking bathroom?”

“Get him to Janus’s, that’ll be the safest place.”

“Got it.”

Sure enough, Janus has no objection and sweeps them inside, setting down the heating pads as Patton bustles in with two thermos flasks and a mug. Virgil pops back with thick blankets as they lay the cold form on the ground. Roman’s eyes blink sluggishly as he stares up at Remus.

“...Re?”

“Yeah, Roro, it’s me, I’m right here, I’m so sorry I wasn’t here faster.”

“What’s…wha’s going on?”

“You’re too cold, Roman,” Logan says gently, “we need to get you warmed up.”

“Oh…”

“It will be easier if we take a few of the layers off,” he explains, still careful to keep his voice low and even as the others scurry around, “is that alright?”

“Okay.”

“I’m going to unzip the hoodie.” Logan works slowly, patiently, stopping when any flicker crosses Roman’s face. “That’s it, you’re doing very well, I’m almost done.”

By the time he’s coaxed the hoodie off of Roman’s shoulders, there’s a little bit of color back in his cheeks.

“Very good, Roman, you did well. Virgil’s brought a few warm blankets and Janus has heating pads for you, do you think you can sit up?”

“Don’t know.”

“That’s alright, you’re doing alright.” Logan glances up at Janus.

“Little prince,” Janus murmurs, sitting by Roman’s head, “if you can sit up, I can sit behind you and help warm you up, does that sound alright?”

“Okay.”

“Thank you, sweetie, we’re going to sit you up now.”

Logan and Janus sit Roman up slowly, only to pause when the long sleeves of his shirt fall down.

“Roman,” Logan asks, trying frantically to keep his voice calm, “are you hurt?”

“Mhm.”

He bites back the fearful response and patiently asks where, how bad, can he see?

“Everywhere.” Roman lifts his arms weakly. “’S all bruises.”

“…can we see?”

“Okay.”

Logan’s hands begin to tremble as he works the shirt over Roman’s head. He wasn’t kidding when he said everywhere.

There’s barely an inch of skin that doesn’t look bruised black and blue. Patton stifles a cry as he drops to his knees next to them, looking at Roman like he’s never seen it this bad before.

Oh, Roman, how did they not know? How could he just ignore him like that?

“Get him covered,” comes Virgil’s voice, “he’s still too cold.”

Janus grabs one of the blankets and wraps it carefully around Roman’s form. It should help distribute whatever pressure they apply so it won’t aggravate his injuries too severely. He takes one heating pad and scoots forward, bracketing Roman’s legs with his own and wrapping one pair of arms around him to press the pad to his chest.

“Can you feel that, sweetie,” he asks softly, “is that too warm?”

“No.”

“Good, good, little prince, you’re being very brave.” He turns away to reach for another and so misses the little shudder that goes through Roman. “Do you think you can handle another if I press it to the back of your neck?”

“Mm.”

“Let’s try, little prince, and if it’s too much, I’ll stop.”

“Okay.”

“Here we go, sweetie—“ Janus presses it carefully to the base of Roman’s skull, just at the edge of the blanket— “there, does that feel okay?”

“Mm.”

“Good, sweetie, you’re doing so well, so good for us, that’s it, you relax now.”

Roman starts to tremble.

“That’s alright,” Logan soothes, “you’re warming up, it means you’re going to shiver a little more, you’re alright, Roman, you’re safe. You’re doing well.”

It certainly doesn’t seem that way once Roman’s breath starts to come in gasps. Virgil nudges Patton out of the way and sits, gently calling Roman’s name until his gaze snaps to Virgil’s.

“Hey, Princey,” Virgil says slowly, “you gotta stay with me now, okay? We’re right here, no one’s angry, nothing’s going to hurt you. Just focus on me.”

He ignores the startled noises when Roman starts to cry thick, black tears.

“Eyes on me, Princey, that’s it, stay here. We’re just gonna sit here and breathe for a moment, okay?” Roman nods and Virgil starts to take big, exaggerated breaths. “Good. That’s it, Princey, you focus on me and you breathe. It’s okay. You’re doing great. Just stay here.”

When the viscous black liquid slows, Virgil reaches out and begins to tuck Roman’s hair back. A moment longer and he pauses, noting how the scratch on Roman’s face is covered in the thick black tears.

“Princey, can I clean your face off for you? You’re doing really well at breathing, I’m proud of you. Can I help you with the rest of it?”

“O-okay.”

There’s a bottle of micellar water and a pack of cotton circles pressed into his hands. He moves in slow, careful strokes, changing out the circles as often as he needs to. A pile of them grows beside him as he works, doing his best to get all the black off of Roman’s face. Roman just cries.

“It’s alright, sweetheart,” Patton murmurs when Roman’s cry gives way to a wail, “it’s okay, you cry all you need to, we’re not going anywhere, it’ll be alright.”

“We have you, sweetie,” Janus says against Roman’s neck, “we’re here.”

Remus lets out a broken noise.

“Oh, Roman, you didn’t…”

Logan’s head whips sharply around to scold Remus only for his mouth to fall open in shock.

Remus’s costume is bleeding too. The same black that drips down Roman’s face is slowly coloring Remus’s costume again, back to what it normally looks like. Remus’s mouth is agape, staring horrified at Roman.

“Oh, Ro—“

“What’s going on?”

“Check the bruises on his neck,” Remus orders as Janus pulls back the blanket, “are they still there?”

“They’re here, but they’re…lighter, how is that—?”

“Roman is the Ego,” Patton mumbles, “he gets bruised when—when—“

“Oh, shit,” Virgil curses, before quickly hushing Roman’s discontented mumble, “and with all the hate that’s been gunning for him—“

“Oh, sweetheart—“

Roman lets out another sob and the tears run clear.

“The Ego is kept healthy by positive attention,” Logan says softly, scooting closer and rubbing Roman’s shoulder through the blanket, “you’ve been starving, haven’t you?”

“He’s not cold because he’s hypothermic,” Remus blusters, “he’s touch starved.”

“It’s still not safe to introduce him to direct contact all at once,” Logan warns when Patton and Remus look like they want to rip the blanket off, “we have to take it slow.”

“So what do we do?”

Janus just leans down and presses a kiss to Roman’s temple. “You’re so brave, sweetie, you’ve been so strong.”

They watch as Roman’s tears begin to wash away the black.

“We love you, sweetheart, you’re so important to us.”

“Stay with us, Princey, we need you.”

“You’re doing very well, Roman, we’re very proud of you.”

Roman cries, ducking his head into Virgil’s waiting hands as Remus’s costume colors itself black again.

After a long while, when Remus looks like he normally does, Roman shakes his head and looks up at them.

“Where am I,” and he sounds like Roman again, “what’s happened?”

“You were starving, sweetheart,” Patton mumbles, “and we didn’t notice until it was too late.”

“O-oh,” Roman blinks, “is that…is that why I’m so cold?”

“You’re touch starved too,” Virgil adds, “and we, uh, L said it wasn’t a good idea to try and shock you out of it.”

“Try and drink something,” Logan says quickly as Patton reaches for the mug, “you’ve been crying for a while and you’re dehydrated.”

“Is that…hot chocolate?”

“Your favorite, kiddo.”

Remus sits down at Roman’s side as he drinks, staring at him like he’s not seen him in ages. Which, well, none of them have, really.

“I’m sorry.”

“What?”

“I’m sorry,” Roman repeats, looking sheepishly at all of them, “I, uh, well, the last video I messed up a lot. I, uh, I shouldn’t have laughed at your name, Jan—where are you?”

“Right here,” Janus mumbles, giving him a gentle squeeze, “and you’re forgiven.”

“Oh. Uh, that was easy…are you sure?”

“I’m sure. Yes, it wasn’t great of you to do, but I’m not exactly blameless either and…”

He squeezes him again.

“…you’ve been hurting enough.”

“Logan, you too, I—I’m sorry.”

“Thank you, Roman, but I agree. It’s alright.”

“Why are you all forgiving me so fast?”

“Because,” Remus mumbles, cupping Roman’s head and resting their foreheads together, “this happened.”

They all watch as Roman shudders as Remus shows him what happened.

“Oh—oh—I—oh no—“

“It’s over now, sweetie,” Janus reassures, “we’ve got you. You’re okay, you’re safe.”

“C-can I have a hug?”

“Of course, honey, come here—“

“Let’s get the blanket out of the way, L, is he—“

“It should be safe now, yes.”

“Remus, I—oof!”

“I gotcha, Ro-Bro.”

“It’s still—I’m still—“

“Patton, grab that end of the blanket.”

“This one?”

“That’s it, yes.”

The Sides end up swaddled in the blanket, their heads poking out, as each of them pulls a little bit of Roman into their arms to warm up. Janus and Remus wrap around his upper body, mindful of the few bruises that haven’t been healed yet. His legs are in Patton’s lap, as Logan and Virgil each hold on to his hands. The poor thing is still shivering, still shaking, still a little overwhelmed.

But Janus coos into his ear as his head lolls back, Remus holding him tightly. Logan’s thumb strokes over his palm as Virgil lets him squeeze as tight as he needs to. Patton makes sure he’s off the cold tile and he’s warm.

They’re going to have to work out what to do about the fans, about the videos, but right now they need to worry about Roman.

Speaking of Roman—

“I—I need to apologize to Thomas.”

A cry goes up as he says so, Patton reaching up to pat his knee. “You don’t have to do that right now, sweetheart, rest, it’s okay—“

“I won’t—he won’t be able to rest until he knows what’s happened.”

As if he can hear them, they feel the familiar tug of one of them being summoned. A quick glance around shows that if one of them is going, all of them are, so they appear on the floor of the living room, swaddled in the blanket.

Thomas’s mouth drops open and he rushes to their side.

“I was gonna ask if you found Roman, but I—Roman, buddy, are you okay?”

“I…I don’t know,” Roman mumbles, “but I’m sorry.”

“For what, buddy?”

As Roman begins to apologize, for being away, for hurting Thomas, for being selfish, Thomas just shakes his head.

“No, buddy, that’s not all on you. You—yeah, okay, some things happened, but it’s not entirely your fault. You don’t need to think of it like that.”

“Well said,” Logan mutters, “now help us get Roman to rest.”

“So what Disney movie are we watching and how many pillows do we need?”

A lot, as it turns out, is the answer. And they have to bite back laughs at the way Thomas makes a noise when he’s swept into the blanket too. But Thomas is warm and Roman is still cold and the movie plays on the screen.

“Hey, Roman?”

“Yeah?”

“You’re my hero.”

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#sanders sides #dragonbabbles #fic #roman sanders #roman angst #roman sanders angst #virgil sanders #logan sanders #patton sanders #janus sanders #deceit sanders #sympathetic deceit #sympathetic remus #remus sanders

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falcor-thee-luck-dragon · 3 years

Text

Forgive, But First Fun - Nandor x f(vampire) reader

Summary: After getting left behind to fight off a pack of werewolves on your own, now mad at Nandor, you and Nadja have decided a little night out couldn’t hurt.

Warning: slight angst, fluff, fun times, and a tiny smut mention

Masterlist

Trudging angrily through the manors wooden doors, face stern and almost scary enough to put the fear of God into anyone. Your boots stomp into the large opening and onto the wooden floor boards as Gullimero, Nandor, and the documentary crew follow you in.

Your cloak is ripped and dirty as it lays in a pathetic black heap of cloth in Gullimero’s arms, your hair not looking any better, not to mention your face and arms that have various cuts paired with grass smudge marks adoring your skin. All in all you look like a hot mess.

“What the fuck happened to you lot? You’ve been gone all night.” Questions Laszlo as he walks into view from out of one of the hallways, his eyes scanning over a perfectly clean and handsome Nandor, then over to the dirty crew and disheveled Guillermo who’s got some leaves stuck to his hair.

“I don’t know.” You snap sarcastically, “How about you ask Mr. Dodgy-shit-stick over there.” Referring to Nandor who’s looking anywhere but you, keeping as silent as ever.

Gullimero looks between you and Nandor, then back at a confused Laszlo. “Oh, um they’re not speaking to each other right now.”

“And why the fuck not?”

Guillermo sighs before leaning towards Laszlo, “Nandor wanted to graffiti where the werewolves live and Y/N said he’d get caught and then Nandor said no I won’t and then he did.”

Laszlo raises a curious brow, “That’s it?”

“Oh, um....” Guillermo awkwardly scratches the back of his neck, suddenly pulling off a green leaf, “then they chased us to the park and when the pack closed in on us Nandor turned into a bat and left us behind so Y/N had to fight one of them off so we could escape and now we’re here.”

“Well that sounds rather exciting.”

“Not at the time.” Whispers Guillermo to no one in particular as he glances over at the camera.

“Huh,” Mutters Laszlo thoughtfully, scratching his beard as he thinks of how to help this situation, “well if you two dingbats aren’t talking to one another I believe Nadja needs you Y/N. Something about....well actually I’m not entirely sure.”

Perking up ever so slightly at this positive news, you cross your arms over your chest defiantly, “Well since someone does, I’ll be going then.” You grumble with a low growl at your Nandor who’s refusing to make eye contact while he stares frustrated at the floor.

Nodding in acknowledgment, Laszlo watches you stomp angrily up the steps before turning his head over to Nandor who’s now watching you leave with big sad eyes.

“Alright why’d you do it?” Interrogates Laszlo with a raised brow.

“Do whaaat?” Replies Nandor defensively, his once high and mighty aurora reappearing in an instant.

Rolling his eyes, Laszlo sets a hand on his hip sassily, “Well I sure as hell don’t want an angry Y/N wandering around this old place for the next however the fuck it takes you both to make up....in however fashion that may be. So I ask again, why’d you puss out and flee like a mangy opossum?”

Pursing his lips together in apprehensive embarrassment, Nandor mutters to himself before finally crossing his arms over his broad chest and sighing, “Because......I....I don’t know I panicked!” Exclaims the large vampire, causing Laszlo to start laughing. “Why are you laughing?”

Wiping a fake tear from his eye, Laszlo lets out a few more chuckles before finally composing himself, “My good man that is the second saddest thing I’ve ever heard. The first being when one of my many victims offered me one of their rare and exclusive Poki-muns card which I still have no idea what the fuck they were on about. Anyways, doesn’t matter, all I’ll tell is that you better make it up to her.”

“But she’s scary when she’s angryyy.” Whines Nandor with a frown.

“That’s all women my young pup, but since your lovely lady is a vampire she’s more dangerous.” He says while giving Nandor a kind pat on the back, “So uh, stay safe out there.” Adds Laszlo before turning and walking down the hallway leaving Nandor with his thoughts, Gullimero, and the documentary’s camera crew.

“What are you all looking at!” Snaps Nandor to the rest of the room.

——

“Oh my goodnessess that’s awful, my poor dark angel.” Soothes Nadja as you take a moment from your long and needed rant about the adventures in the park and Nandor’s cowardly stupidity. “That big hairy rhino doesn’t deserve you Y/N.” She reasons honestly, doing her best to make you feel better, knowing all to well the level of competent decision making skills of the other two vampires in the house.

“I know.” You mutter in agreement, your body tense and agitated as you pace back and forth in front of her as she sits in a chair, “Fucking beautiful idiot prick horse-fart of a husband. Urgghhh!” You proclaim loudly while throwing your hands into the air angrily, causing the furniture in the room to screech backwards across the old flooring at your outburst of vampiric energy. Nadja’s long obsidian hair blowing backwards as you do so while she keeps seated, unflinching.

Face softening, she gives you a sympathetic smile, “Oh my lovely fierce lioness, I know exactly what will make that sad little frown turn into a happy one.” Beams Nadja with an excited clap of her hands.

Hugging your sides, you let out a frustrated huff before giving your old friend a shrug, “What do you have in mind?”

——

“So we’re at the carnival!” Claps Nadja in delight as she smiles at the camera, “This will hopefully relieve Y/N’s pent up angers and keep her mind off of Nandor.....for now.” She adds a bit uncertainly.

“HA HA take that fuckers!” You shout joyfully from behind her, the camera panning over to you at the ball toss where you’ve been knocking down plastic bottles with a rubber ball. The stall owner cowering in the corner as he shields himself with a stuffed zebra.

The camera focuses back on Nadja, “I think it’s going really well so far.” She confirms with a convincing grin. “Relieving all that..uh....rage.”

After winning a stuffed snake taller then you and deciding to wear it as a strange fashionable scarf, you and Nadja are wandering the carnivals streets while people watching to pass the time.

“So that’s why I never walk on the roof after 3am when I’ve had homeless man’s blood.” Rambles Nadja as your thoughts about Nandor come trickling down into your brain and nose. Huh, strange, must be cause you’re still wearing a thin red scarf of his.

No, stop thinking about him.

“Good lesson learned then,” You add with the flash of a smile before nudging her shoulder gently, “hey you wanna watch me win you something cool?”

Perking up in an instant, Nadja smiles a devilish fangy grin as she stops to eye up the multiple game stalls, “Why I would be delighted my dear Y/N, how about....um, oooh I want that giant tropical fishy with the long whiskers over there.” Points Nadja as your eyes travel over to the game stall with the large prizes.

It’s a game that requires the individual to shoot an arrow directly on three different sized bullseye’s stationed at various heights. Smiling like an idiot, you nudge your vampiric acquaintance in agreement, the both of you quickly swaggering over to the carnival game and it’s plush flashy prizes just screaming to be won.

“Hello good sir, my skilled roommate Y/N here is going to win me that fish.” Beams Nadja proudly as the teenager jumps off his chair to greet the two of you.

He smells like weed but surprisingly looks decent all things considered, “Uh yeah alright, two bucks for three arrows, hit every target directly on the middle red mark and if you make it on the bonus poster on the far back wall then you’ll have a chance to win that fish, good luck.” Mumbles the kid unenthusiastically as you slide him the cash.

Picking up the shitty yet still functional carnival bow, you give Nadja a wink before fitting an arrow in the nock and pulling back, lining up the shot and releasing directly into the first target to the left. Smirking to yourself you quickly draw again, hitting your second mark just as intended. Pays to be a skilled archer huh.

“Damn that’s pretty good aim.” Nods the teen as he watches in awe as you fit another arrow, releasing and punching a hole in the middle of the third target.

Nadja claps in excitement from behind you, “Yes! Win me that colorful fat bitch my feisty lioness!”

Standing like a warrior ready for battle with your bow in hand and wind blowing in your face, the kid almost drops the arrow he hands you for the winning shot as he practically swoons.

“Get those scissors ready, that fish is mine.” You growl in determination while picturing Nandor’s head as the final target, drawing back, you let the arrow fly straight into the bonus target. Winning Nadja her giant fish plushy.

“Yessss!” Shouts Nadja in delight as you drop the bow onto the table like a bad bitch before eyeing up the kid with a raised brow, “We’ll be taking the fish now.”

Wide eyed he almost falls off his chair, “Wait um, that’s the last one...I didn’t think, uh, my boss doesn’t want me to give away those ones.” He stutters out.

“What!” Snaps Nadja, “Then why are they just hanging there? You lied to us you little shit!”

“I’m sorry.” He pleads apologetically, “That’s what my boss told me. And no one ever wins the big prizes anyway so I didn’t think...”

“Well your boss he can eat a big horse turd cause I’m taking that fish.” You growl before jumping up and unhooking the fish from its perch above your heads, handing it to a practically glowing with joy Nadja who immediately hugs the thing.

Sticking your tongue out at the teen, you and Nadja turn to leave before a boney hand is suddenly on your shoulder, twisting around in an agitated instant, your face is mere inches from the wide eyed boy as he attempts to look even a tad bit threatening.

“No.” Is the only thing that slips from your tongue before your hand shoves him back, his whole body going air bound into the back of the carnival tent while the kid lets out a panicked scream.

“Ooooh Y/N that was very sexy of you.” Smirks Nadja while wiggling her dark brows, “Too bad a certain cowardly lion wasn’t here to see it.”

Petting the stuffed toy snake around your neck absentmindedly, you smile back a fangy grin, “Yes. Too bad.”

Continuing on your late night stroll through the carnival you both pass by random strangers, families, elders, children, and lovers all minding their sweet business completely unawares to the dark supernatural world walking right past them.

Although you’re quite enjoying this time spent with your best friend in the whole wide world, a low dull feeling of emptiness can’t help but creep into your undead being the more you catch sight of new and old couples walking together.

Sensing your growing sadness, Nadja nudges your shoulder playfully to gain your distracted attention, “Hello in there my black rose, what is on your mind?”

Holding the snake close to your body, a small smile creeps its way onto your face knowing she’s looking out for you, though it’s gone soon enough, “Oh you know....uh....blood.” You mutter unenthusiastically, trying to keep your thoughts away from Nandor and how much you miss him right now.

“Blood is it? But we just fed before attending the carnival.” Inquires Nadja in confusion as she keeps a normal pace at your side while the two of you follow the sidewalk past various shops and restaurants. “What is actually plaguing your mind my dear one?” She wonders with a frown, not keen on seeing you upset and in a grey mood.

Biting your lip anxiously, though not hard enough to draw blood, you walk past a couple more people before your eyes catch the sight of a small black bat disappearing behind a corner building just up ahead.

Squinting your eyes, your nose suddenly catches the scent of someone very familiar, “Nandor?”

Turning her head to face you, Nadja’s brows furrow in puzzlement, “What? No my sweet hurricane, forget that mangy old bear he’s not important right now.” Urges Nadja as she looks forward, suddenly surprised to catch a glimpse of someone who looks a lot like Guillermo racing behind the same corner you saw the bat fly behind. “Okay um what the fuck? Did you see that too?”

Glancing at Nadja you nod before quickening your steps as she does the same, her skirts flowing as she tries to catch up with you, though you’re much faster and with lack of annoying dress material, “Wait! You’re too fast.” Yelps Nadja.

Ignoring her protests you book it down the sidewalk like a maniac, almost running into a jogger before skidding round the corner of the brick building and coming face to face with a wide eyed Guillermo who gasps in surprise. Nudging him to the side, your eyes immediately fall upon the nervous fangy grin of your Nandor.

He gives you a shy little wave before shuffling awkwardly in place, awaiting your rampage of verbal and possibly physical assault that he’s certain is in the near future.

Taking a deep breath, you cross your arms over your chest defensively, “Were you following me?”

“Um, well.....I might have been....but only to make sure you were okay.” Mutters Nandor honestly, eyes shifting from you to the ground nervously as he awaits your wrath.

Pursing your lips together in thought, you shake your head before taking off the stuffed toy snake and holding it firmly in your hands. With a low growl do you grasp the snake in your right hand and hold it back like you might swing at any moment.

“You’re a fucking nincompoop you know that right?” Slips from your mouth without an once of anger lacing your words, instead do you hand the snake to Gullimero as Nandor watches in puzzled fear.

Taking a swift step forward, you point a finger into his strong chest while looking sternly up at him, “Racing off and leaving me too fight that angry bitch all by myself, and now following me when I needed a break from you! Nandor....... you’re something else.” You add with a shake of your head.

“Yes I know, and I’m sorry my love.” Smiles Nandor with saddened eyes, “I promise to keep you save from now on and fight off any werewolf who tries to hurt you....even if I am scared.”

Taking a step back, you can’t help the smirk that forms onto your face at his sweet words of forgiveness and sincerity. You know how much he fears werewolves and that he fled the scene thinking you were planning on following too, not realizing that you might actually give a shit about Gullimero’s and the crew’s lives.

“Oh my dear puff dragon,” You declare softly with a small smile, reaching both hands out to grasp his own, “I forgive you.”

Nandor’s face breaks out into the biggest and happiest grin you’ve seen since his last birthday when he walked into your shared crypt only to find you naked and holding a bushel of red roses while seated seductively on his coffin.

“Oh that’s fantastic because I was really missing you.” Reveals Nandor with a gentle squeeze of your hands. “Laszlo and Guillermo can’t make me laugh nearly as much as you can, they’re honestly rather boring.” He says before leaning in closer to whisper, “and not very attractive to look at either.” Causing you to crack another grin and your undead heart to fill with butterflies.

Chuckling you reach up with one hand to pull his collar closer to you and a second later do your lips clash sweetly against one another in a heated moment of passion. He smiles into the kiss before moving to pull you in closer with both of his hands, one slipping low to cheekily pinch your round bottom.

Feeling him against you once again has to be the best sensation in the whole entirety of the world even if you’ve only been separated for a couple of hours. You absolutely love the way his fingers dig into your back and bum with an animalistic eagerness that’s slowly starting to drive you insane. Oh, the things he does to you.

Especially how his tongue slips into your mouth with ease while you tug at his hair long dark locks. “Y/N!” Suddenly shouts Nadja.

“Nandor!”

Begrudgingly pulling away, you turn around to face the confused lady vampire while Nandor hugs you from behind, happily smirking at her, knowing she can’t do anything to hurt him now. “Yes Nadja.” You answer.

With the fish plushy hung over her shoulder, her brows furrow in confusion, “What the fuck are you doing? I thought you were mad at him?”

“Yeah well, I was starting to really miss him and also I’m kind of horny now so.” You reply with a shrug as Nandor hugs you tighter, resting his bearded chin against your head while Nadja huffs in defeat.

“Alright. See you at home then.” Adds Nadja before turning towards Guillermo and shoving the giant carnival fish into his arms, “Hold this Gizmo I’m going home.” Then just like that she’s gone in a black wispy poof, flying away in bat form towards the vampire resistance on Staten Island.

“Okay then.” Mutters Gullimero as he looks up at the dark sky.

Feeling a wet kiss on the side of your face and neck you smile before turning around to face your dear husband, “Shall we take flight to seek out our bed chambers?” You speak slyly in a soft yet seductive voice.

“Yes.” Grins Nandor with a flash of lust and excitement before turning his attention over to Guillermo, “Hey Guillermo I’m leaving to make passionate love to my wife so don’t bother us or I will have a rat shit in your pillowcase. Okay?”

You giggle to yourself as Gullimero’s cheeks redden while he side eyes the camera, “Understood master. Have fun.” Squeaks out the loyal familiar as he stands there awkwardly with his hands full of two carnival prizes.

Nandor sneakily squeezes your bottom once more as he gives Gullimero a knowing smirk, “Oh, we will.” Then a second later you two are flying high above the city in bat form, ready to make love to your sweet Nandor for probably the twentieth time that week.

Down below the camera pans over to Gullimero as he blinks, “Well uh, I have these things now..” He says, holding up the fish, “and I am so not looking forward to cleaning up their mess.......again.”

#I love me some himbo vampire what can I say #nandor the relentless #what we do in the shadows #Nandor #Nandor x reader #nandor x you #nandor x y/n #wwdits #what we do in the shadows x reader #fanfiction #my fanfic

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local-ground-apple · 4 years

Note

Hi💗 can i request a kissing headcanon with dorm leaders please ? ❤ (english is not my native language too, is spanish XD) but i see that you are very good at it ♡

Fun fact, if I manage to sign up in time, I will be learning Spanish at uni this year

Also thank you anon 💗💗

I have no clue why Vil is quite lenghty. Oh, and I added one character to the mix 👀👀

🥀 Riddle is always tad embarrassed when you shower him with small kisses in public. His face would flush and slowly he would begin turning into rosy, blushing mess. His eyes avoid yours and he would mumble incoherently something along the lines “oh, stoph it”

🥀 Riddle even forbade you to kiss him in public,

,,Rule 812, Y/N shall not kiss Riddle Rosehearts in public”

🥀 Cater is your shipper#1 and he loves taking sneaky pictures of flushed and embarrassed Riddle, he even has a special folder for you two, (Trey often shows up in the perfect moment just right before Riddle snatches his phone and crashes it)

🥀 however, when you’re two alone, he doesn’t mind you showering him in affection and he does his best to return the favour,

🥀 Riddle is generally a bit anxious about kissing and he often gets nervous. At first his kisses are sloppy, he may accidentally bite your tongue, he doesn’t know where to put his hands....it’s a bit of a mess,

🥀 Riddle’s kisses are pretty short and sweet, really chaste and gentleman like. He loves kissing your cheeks

🥀 after a while he gets used to showing you affection in public, but Riddle still gets pretty frustrated when you kiss him out of blue, no matter how far in relationship you are,

🦁 kisses with Leona are usually rough and passionate. He loves grazing his teeth over your lips, before slightly biting them,

🦁 his hands would be roaming everywhere around your body, literally everywhere, yet mostly stoping at your waist. Leona just simply adores holding you close and touching your soft skin while he showers just in affection,

🦁 his kisses feels both – eager and lazy at the same time. Leona often leaves a trail of violet and red marks on your neck, before biting and nibbling on it,

🦁 he loves your neck in general. Kisses you there way more often than on your lips,

🦁 Leona adores leaving hickeys, reddish marks and his scent on your neck, so then everyone knows that you’re his,

🦁 often buries his head in the crook of your neck when he’s sleepy and gently presses his lips to your skin. He absolutely adores when you wake up with a kiss,

🐙screams internally each time you lean in for the kiss,

🐙 Azul is pretty much touch-starved and he isn’t used to receiving and giving affection. He absolutely loves when you breathe compliments and praises in between your soft and gentle kisses,

🐙 at first, he feels insecure about his kisses, often pulling away after a second, gently grazing his lips over yours and making sure you’re comfortable,

🐙 when you assure him that he’s doing great, he shall continue. At first, it all feels pretty hesitant and experimental and Azul is not entirely sure what he’s doing,

🐙 however, when he gets the hang of it, he’s the absolute god of kisses. Can and will surprise you with gentle kisses on your hand, forehead, cheeks,

🐙 Azul may be even bold enough to pin you to the wall and hungrily smash his lips on yours in desperate kiss,

🐙 won’t straight up ask you for a kiss, no, Azul will offer you a “contract”

,,Y/N, do you need help with homework?” “Yes, I would deeply appreciate it!” “Well, maybe if you kiss me…”

🐙 you both are always finding for dominance in kiss and Azul always make sure to win,

🦂 the chaotic duo is back again,

🦂 your kisses are playful and short, yet they happen at least hundred times a day,

🦂 you are often seen running up to Kalim, grazing your lips over his in ghost kiss and dashing away while giggling. To return the favour, Kalim loves surprising you by coming up behind you and planting a soft kiss on your cheeks,

🦂 he isn’t too shy to kiss you in school hallways, canteen or even classroom. Kalim always make sure to give you the affection and he’s pretty clingy, so the sight of you two sharing a kiss doesn’t shock anyone (even Crewel ships you too, so hard)

🦂 you’re just too adorable. You two smile a lot when kissing in the breaks to catch the air, before smashing your lips together one more time,

🦂 surprise kisses A LOT – you’re the definition of them,

🦂 you both like to tease each other. You would slightly brush your lips against his and then quickly pull away with giggle. On the contrary, Kalim would bite your lip without a warning and then runn away before properly kissing you (Jamil literally can’t stand you two)

🦚 Vil detests getting messy, so it could appear that he would be absolutely against long make out session,

🦚 oh, how wrong you were,

🦚 Vil knows what he’s doing and he absolutely adores long kisses. You could spend half of the day in Pomefiore chambers sitting on his lap and gently twirling strands of Vil’s hair on your fingers, while he would be gently pressing his warm, soft lips to your skin, making sure he doesn’t leave any marks,

🦚 you’re literally the only couple who doesn’t get messy and still has a perfect hairstyles and make-up after long hours of kissing.

🦚 well, practice makes perfect, right? You and Vil were diligent enough to master that technique after spending long hours practicing,

🦚 Vil’s kisses are soft and they last for long. He makes sure he doesn’t bite you or leave any marks on you. You often taste each other’s lipstick and try to guess the flavour,

,,Was that peachy lipstick?” “Try again darling” “Cherry?” “You’re so bad at this Y/N, maybe I should start referring to you as potato if you don’t get it right this time, hmm?”

🦚 you don’t mind Vil calling you potato again, you just want to continue kissing his lips,

🦚 slowly drags his hand down your back and it gives you shivers, before his glossy lips gently captures you. He’s very sensual yet soft at the same time, making you melt in his kisses,

🦚 Vil occasionally pulls away, breathing compliments and praising you,

,,You’re absolutely dazzling, darling”

🦚 when you are in public Vil loves holding your hand and rub it with his thumb, tracing gentle circles while he leans in for a brief kiss,

🦚 you are always watched by Rook who coos at how cute you both are,

,,Oh, Roi de Poison et le petit lapin~~~~Quel beau couple vous faites~~”

💀 someone please help this poor, unfortunate soul. He has no clue what he’s doing and even anime can’t save him at this point,

💀 he’s so nervous and frustrated at the mere mention of you wanting to shower him with kisses. So you take it slow,

💀 while kissing you, Idia often has to stop, so his brain can proceed the fact that he’s actually kissing you. He often can’t believe it and you always giggle when he does that,

💀 awkwardly places his hands on you shoulders, closes his eyes really tight and leans it…it’s a mess, he may bite your tongue accidentally, but don’t worry, when he gets the hang of it….

💀 his sharp teeth are going to start playfully biting your lips, nibbling on your skin and generally leaving marks whenever you two are in his room, of course,

💀 Idia doesn’t like sharing kisses and holding hands in public. He’s always embarrassed and he prefers keeping your relationship as private as he can,

🐲 when you two started dating, Malleus would always ask for your permission before his soft lips gently crashed on yours,

,,May I kiss you, dearest Y/N?”

🐲 you always giggle, before shyly nodding,

🐲 kisses with Malleus are always meaningful and intimate. With each kiss Malleus wants to express his undying and eternal love to you,

🐲 he takes his time, carefully dotting on your skin, leaving a trail of gentle kisses. Malleus doesn’t mind if you play with strands of his long, silky hair while you sit on his lap and he presses his lips against yours,

🐲 Malleus loves holding your cheek and staring in your beautiful eyes for a moment before his cold lips are met with yours. He holds you if you were the most fragile person in whole universe,

🐲 often kisses your forehead or hands, which always make you a bit frustrated,

🐲 every single kiss is so special and meaningful to him. Malleus is quite touch-starved and he is more than eager to shower you with affection. Quite frankly, he will remember every single kiss you two had shared,

🐲 prefers to kiss you passionately in his room or in the safety of Diasomnia dorm’s walls (even if it means hearing Lilia nonstop cooing how adorable you both are)

,,Oh, great lizard! You’re finally in love, you’ve grown up so much”

🦇 this self-proclaimed father of Diasomnia knows exactly what he’s doing and there’s no denying,

🦇 Lilia loves teasing you. His sharp fangs are grazing over your lips in ghost like kiss before harshly biting down, drawing crimson droplets. He adores licking off your blood from you while he gently presses his warm lips against yours,

🦇 you soon begin to associate the pain of his bite with pleasure,

🦇 Lilia often buries his head in your neck, leaving a trail of bloody marks. Don’t worry, he will make sure no crimson droplets of yours will be wasted. He licks the bites and violet, reddish marks he had left, so supposedly they could heal better,

🦇 his tongue often brushes over your lips few times, before actually kissing you passionately,

🦇 Lilia has no shame, absolutely no shame,

🦇 he doesn’t mind appearing suddenly, hanging upside down from the ceiling and roughly pressing his lips against yours in reverse kiss (spiderman style kiss) while literally half of the canteen is looking,

🦇 he’s the best kisser ever

🦇 Silver will never, ever, get used to seeing this old man kissing you and being affectionate/touchy with you

,,Could you both…hmm… NOT?!” “But not what?”

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beigehearts · 3 years

Text

The Price of Self Respect

Please refer to my master list for the other chapters! There will be ten parts in total, so only four more after this

PART VI

CW: alcohol consumption, mentions of drugs, murder

1,656 words

____________________________________________

You've gotten to drinking with Uvogin and Shalnark, they somehow provide you a sense of comfort in this weird world you're trapped in. It takes half a bottle of vodka and a few shots until you feel that incessant buzz that ravages your body. The three of you sit around the couch area- playing a game of doubt with just the three of you. Yours and Uvogin's laugh rings loudly through the inn- the owner and son not caring since you guys are the only customers at the moment. Your laughter covers up the cough that Chrollo sounds, trying to get your guy's attention.

When he stands next to the table with cards littered around it, you finally notice him. He examines all of the alcohol paraphernalia and clicks his tongue, "So have you been having fun y/n?" He asks loudly, as if you can't hear him over the sound of your inebriation.

You look at him out of the corner of your eye, having a newfound hatred for him, which is quite a change from before. "Yes."

Shalnark speaks up, "She's a lot of fun Chrollo, I'm glad you brought her here." He looks down at his cards, "And she's really good at cards." He sighs, realizing his chances of winning the game are low.

Chrollo seems to have enough of this conversation, eyeing Uvogin sitting way too close to you. So close that your thighs are touching. "Come on, let's go to bed, you must be tired."

"Actually." You say, "I'm not, so I think I'll finish my game." The alcohol seems to be speaking louder than your voice is.

Without even arguing or protesting, Chrollo grabs you by your bicep, pulling you out of your seat. "It's time for bed." He drags you from the common area with you slurring curses at him. You can hear Uvogin and Shalnark booing him from the other room. Once you reach your room, he slides the door open, and drops you on the tatami mat. You drunkenly groan at the short fall, and crawl towards the futon, pulling the blanket back and trying to maneuver yourself inside of the bed.

"You made friends pretty quickly- especially with the troupe that broke your leg." He taps his foot against the mat, watching you struggle to get under the blankets.

"Yes, they're quite nice, and very informative." Your words blend in with one another and Chrollo strains his ear to discern each word. "I even learned that you're more of a stalker than I thought." Finally you settle into the bed, turning on your side, getting ready to fall asleep.

"Excuse me?" He asks.

"I don't appreciate you trying to seduce me after having kept notes on me for almost two years." You sigh, closing your eyes to go to sleep.

You quickly notice the anger in his voice, he's not able to hide it. "I don't appreciate you hanging all over Uvogin either." He sits down cross legged next to you, "Honestly I don't appreciate you flirting with other men."

You take your chance to get under his skin, "It's easier to connect with people who don't know every detail about you."

"You're upset because I love you?"

You open one eye, looking up at him, "You have a twisted view on love."

You don't remember much of the end of the conversation, falling asleep during what you think was an argument. You rise with the sun, it blinding you in the early morning. Strong arms hold you close, too tightly to even move your hips in his grasp. A dull pain pulses through your head, with an endless sense of nausea to accompany it. The night before was fun- though you're not sure that the hangover is worth it. You tap your hand against Chrollo's and speak lightly, "Let me go, I need to shower." As if clockwork, he lets go and flips on his other side.

Before you go to the shared showers, you stand on the deck outside of your room, admiring the authentic rock garden, the water glistening and wind temporarily relieving your headache.

The shower's are nice, towels, robes, and indoor slippers are provided. You undress, dropping your clothes next to one of the stalls. Stepping into the warm water you let out a sigh of relief, thanking life for this sweet relief.

The door opens and you hear another person repeating the routine you've already performed. When you step out after finishing scrubbing your body, a woman steps out of her stall simultaneously. Her hair is in a short black bob, and has a towel wrapped around her bust, hanging just below her waist. You recognize her, you must have seen her last night. Ah that's right, she came into the common room late in the night, and Shalnark introduced her.

"Hi Shizuku." She nods at you, not bothering to speak.

The both of you stand in front of the lockers, putting on the complimentary robes and slippers.

Before you leave the room she clears her throat, "Would you like medicine for your hangover?" She asks.

You send a smile her way and nod.

---------------------

With a cup of hot tea in your hand, you watch the sunrise from the deck of your room, a slight drizzle misting and blurring your view. You can see the sun peeking through the clouds, providing little light. You don't flinch when Chrollo sits down next to you, grabbing the other cup and pouring himself a cup of tea.

"Good morning y/n." He says with a smile, and the plants a kiss on your cheek as if you didn't fight and he didn't threaten to kill his troupe members and blame it on you last night.

You hum in response and continue gazing out at the rock garden, admiring the koi fish and seeing the steam just past the garden, indicating where the hot springs are. Maybe you should sit in the springs, it might make you feel better.

"Last night, I'm sorry for getting so angry." Chrollo breaks the silence. "But don't ever be so friendly with another man. Ever." His jealousy is practically seeping through his every pore, and you know when he says not to be friendly he means it. You know he's not bluffing about hurting someone for being so kind to you.

"You're ridiculous." His eyebrows are enough to show his intrigue in your statement, "You watch me for so long, noting my every move, until you kidnap me. You seduce me and then get upset when I'm angry after finding out about this." You look his way, "You really expect me to return your affection?"

He doesn't respond to your question- knowing it is rhetorical. You're right. And you don't even know about half the things he's done for you- so imagine how you would react if you found out about that. Not well that's for sure. He takes time to process your words, swirling them around in his head so he can bend them to fit his reality he's made.

Dropping the subject completely he states, "We're leaving in twenty minutes, we have a van to fit all of us. We have a mission nearby, I'm going to need your help."

"Why should I help you?"

He frowns, "I can take your nen ability instead if you wish. "

That shuts you up, standing up and heading to grab something to eat from the continental breakfast before you go anywhere.

Fitting all of you into the van is difficult to say the least. Fitting Uvogin, Nobunaga, and Franklin in is practically a miracle. They are definitely going to have back pain once you get out of the van. Chrollo drives and you sit in the back with Machi and Shizuku. You aren't sure exactly of what you're needed for but you'll do whatever is asked of you in order to keep your nen to yourself.

Two hours of laughter and griping from the large men, you all finally stumble out of the van and onto the pavement. There's a large warehouse, and it reeks of marijuana. It must be a dispensary.

"Y/n you need to draw a key that can fit to any lock. I would have the door broken down but there's no physical way of doing that and it's loud. And it's not digital locking so Shalnark can't get us through it."

On command you conjure a pencil, sketching out a key with a malleable end. It begins materializing and everyone watches as it turns from pencil sketches in the air into a real gold key. Only you can use it since it's built from your nen, so Chrollo leads you to a heavy duty door. You put the key into one of the locks, forcing the key to bend and then harden into the shape of the lock. You repeat this three more times and watch as the troupe goes ahead. When you step into the building Chrollo stops you and points to the van.

"Make sure no one comes out, and if they do, eliminate them." You nod hesitantly, and head back to the van, hopping into the driver's seat. You hear gun shots, screaming, and pleas from inside but you have no choice but to listen to the genocide that's being put into play by the man who kidnapped you and claims to love you.

Thoughts of driving away, escaping, and running off enter your brain, but it's not like it would mean anything. They could find you in a matter of seconds if you did.

You come up with a plan on having Chrollo and the troupe trust you and maybe even willingly give you your freedom. You will just have to reciprocate his love until he thinks you love him. But the problem is that you already have feelings for him, maybe Stockholm syndrome will catch up with you first.

#hunterxhunter #hxh #chrollo #chrollo lucilfer #yandere chrollo #chrollo x reader #yandere

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mst3kproject · 3 years

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The Giant of Marathon

For some reason, probably because I've seen them all so many times, I thought I'd already done all four Film Crew episodes. Evidently this is not true. Here's one, and if you haven't seen it... wow, Mr. Honcho was not exaggerating about the thousands of sweaty men.

Philippides of Athens is the greatest athlete there is, having won the entire Olympics. With the games over, he returns to his day job as commander of the Athenian city guard. Followers of Hippias the exiled tyrant are plotting to take control of the city with help from the invading Persians, and they try to seduce Philippides to their cause by offering him wine, women, and homoerotic wrestling (it was ancient Greece, after all). Philippides refuses to be seduced, and sets off to secure the help of Athens' old enemy Sparta in opposing the Persians. His mission is a success, but upon his return a spy tells him that the Persians are planning a sneak attack on the harbour of Piraeus. Can even Philippides get there in time to deliver the warning?

I don't actually know if it were possible to win the entire Olympics in ancient Greece. I know there were several events and at least one of them involved reciting poetry. The Battle of Marathon was in 490 BC and a table on Wikipedia suggests that there could have been up to twelve different sports, but some of them were only for children.

The Giant of Marathon touts itself as a tale of epic battles, daring deeds, and political machinations. I'll get back to the epic battles and daring deeds, but what stands in for the political machinations is mostly a bunch of people pining. Unimpressive villain Theocritus is pining for the beautiful Andromeda, whose father has promised her to him but she thinks he's a dick. She's pining for Philippides, who is also pining for her but thinks she's one of Hippias' followers, so refuses to speak to her. Meanwhile Theocritus' concubine Charis is also pining for Philippides because he's the only man who ever refused to fuck her, I think.

These relationships are important to the plot, too. Andromeda's love for Philippides is one of the reasons her father refuses to join the traitors, and when Theocritus realizes he cannot have her, he ties her to the prow of his ship to force Philippides to watch her die. Charis' crush on Philippides leads her to her death, as she is executed for spying. Yet none of it is ever developed beyond 'these two pretty people saw each other and now they want to bone'. Philippides declares his love for Andromeda after a single five-minute interaction. Charis has seen Philippides twice, and both times it went badly, when she decides to betray Theocritus.

Why do the writers hang such important plot points on the 'love' between people who have barely spoken to each other? I can't decide if it's because they're lazy, or because they're hacks, and I lean towards a combination of the two. There is absolutely no subtlety to the writing in The Giant of Marathon at all. Everything is told, not shown. We know that Theocritus and Creusus are traitors because they talk about it, in dialogue that's clearly written for the audience, not as anything that sounds like a natural conversation. We know that Charis and Andromeda are both in love with Philippides because they say so. The only thing we're really shown is that Andromeda hates Theocritus, which comes through in her body language (though we are also very much told), so props to actress Mylène Demongeot for that much.

The movie doesn't care about any of this character stuff, anyway. It just wants to get straight to those epic battle scenes, and it's very obvious how much work and time went into those as opposed to everything else. The battles are lengthy and elaborate, full of impressive stunts and props and miniatures being destroyed all over the place. We get to see Persian chariots run down Greek infantry, and while I'm pretty sure this would have been orchestrated so the stuntmen didn't get hurt, I'm not nearly so confident about the unfortunate horses (and neither was Bill). There are ships in flames and injured men screaming as they fall overboard. There are even some pretty good deaths, like the guy who was hit in the eye with an arrow. The desperate last stand of the city guard against the entire Persian fleet, with the Spartans arriving just in time to save the day, is very tense indeed.

I get the impression that this is what somebody really wanted to put on screen, and they did a decent job of it, but pretty much the entire rest of what ought to be the story is just an accessory to the fighting stuff. It's as if the film-makers wanted so badly for their fight sequences to be epic that they forgot what makes epic-ness – which is the characters and their stake in the events. We don't know any of these people, none of them have anything we might call a personality trait, and so we don't care.

The focus on how epic it all is makes I seem a little strange that the battle ends on a shot of dead Persian guys floating in the water. You'd think they'd want to end with something that more decisively shows the Athenian victory, maybe the men cheering as the Persian ships turn around and flee. Or perhaps some kind of victory celebration, which could mirror the celebration of Philippides winning the Olympics in the opening and call back to the scene where Philippides asks the goddess Athena to protect her city.

Instead, we cut to a shot of Philippides and Andromeda walking across the farmland together. This feels a little too sudden, and is also a poor fit with the rest of the movie. The only time we've seen Philippides on his farm is when he's gotten disgusted with the politics of Athens and returned to the countryside to sulk. If the farm is supposed to be a place where he's happy and at peace, the movie never establishes it.

So that's political machinations and epic battle sequences, let's talk about some daring deeds.

Unlike the Hercules and Maciste movies we've seen in the past, The Giant of Marathon wants to be grounded in real-life history. This means that while the script does reference gods and mythical heroes, none of them ever appear and there is no hint of them working behind the scenes to bring events about. Likewise, Philippides is not a demigod, so we avoid several of the tropes associated with the genre. Nothing important ever happens (or fails to happen) because the hero was asleep, and he never bends prison bars or drinks a love potion – although a love potion is mentioned, as if to draw attention to this.

This doesn't leave Philippides a whole lot of scope for daring deeds, and when they try the results are a little lackluster. His main feat is, of course, running all the way from Marathon to Athens (the proverbial forty-two kilometres) to let them know of the impending attack, but while this ought to be the highlight of the movie it's shot in terrible day-for-night and we have nothing to suggest how far this is... I think the writers just assumed everybody knows the length of a marathon. If we'd seen the army tired from making the march earlier, we would have a better sense of it being a long and tiring journey even at a walk or with horses, and it would seem that much more formidable as a distance for one man to cover before sunrise. Of course, showing us these things is apparently beyond the scope of The Giant of Marathon's writers, but you'd think they could at least have a character say something like, “it's twenty-six miles! He'll never make it!”

His other major daring deed is when he pushes giant boulders down a hill onto the attacking Persians. This is kind of weird because Philippides is not Hercules or Maciste. He's good at track and field, but we haven't seen any evidence of him having godlike strength, and this is a universe where gods don't seem to do much anyway, so it comes out of nowhere. The rocks are huge – there are similarly-sized ones at the park near my house and I know one guy couldn't move them no matter how buff he might be. Did somebody just forget that they weren't making a Hercules movie?

Between the battles and the various plot twists, The Giant of Marathon could have been a pretty fun sword-and-sandal movie, but it's like a tower without a foundation. The fights have nothing to hold them up, so we just can't get into it. Also, what the Underworld happened to Hippias? We see him once, chatting with the king of Persia, and then he vanishes and the movie decides weaselly little Theocritus is the big bad instead. I'm sorry, but if you've got a character with a name as cool as 'Hippias the Tyrant', you really can't just drop him like that.

The Best Brains liked to complain about the tinyness of the costumes in these movies but honestly, nothing here is as off-putting as actual ancient Greek sports would have been to the modern viewer. When I was in university I TA'd for a course called Introduction to Greco-Roman Civilization. It was an adventure in several ways – the students were mostly dumb freshmen who spent the lectures playing Farmville, and the professor didn't give a shit because she'd just been denied tenure. I don't know how much anybody learned in that class, but I'm sure they all recall how, after the professor told us that Greek athletes stripped naked and covered themselves in olive oil before wrestling, somebody raised a hand and asked if they removed their body hair. The professor cheerfully told him that they did not, so next time we see a Greek vase we ought to remember that these guys were much sweatier, oilier, and hairier than terra cotta can possibly convey.

#mst3k #reviews #episodes that never were #the battle of marathon #the film crew #50s #my cheese steak

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ladyloveandjustice · 4 years

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Belated Spring 2020 Anime Overview: My Next Life as Villainess

For the Spring 2020 anime season, I mostly watched continuations of shows I was already into. The one new show I did pick up was My Next Life as a Villainess: All Routes Lead to Doom!

My Next Life as a Villainess: All Routes Lead to Doom! follows Katerina Claes, a spoiled young noble girl deviously scheming to win the heart of a prince- oh wait, never mind, she hit her head and remembered her past life! Turns out she’s an eighteen year old Japanese otaku chick who died and got reincarnated as the villainess in her favorite otome game.

If you don’t feel like reading the wiki article, an otome game is basically a female- targeted dating sim where you play as a blank slate main character and date a bunch of pretty boys (and sometimes girls, but usually only if you go outside the mainstream ones), unlocking their backstories and collecting all the romantic endings.

Having played this game, Katarina is well aware that the Villainess character- who constantly tries to interfere with the game’s heroine and whichever boy she’s pursuing- is either exiled or killed in all of the games endings. And now she IS that villainess, living in the world of the game and all its characters! Does that mean she’s doomed to a horrible fate? What’s a girl to do?

Well, if you’re Katarina, what you do is be supportive and kind to the people around you and in doing so accidentally get every single character in the game to fall in love with you. And yes, this includes all the boys the heroine is supposed to date, the other female romantic rivals the heroine is faced with and the game’s heroine herself.

That’s right, we finally got us some bisexual romantic comedy hijinx last anime season, my friends! My Next Life as a Villainess was the delightful little show I really escaped into during these anxious pandemic times . All these girls casually falling in love with Katarina without it being treated as ‘weird’ was what particularly drew me to this show and warmed my gay little heart to see. It was honestly the perfect fluffy, low stress watch during these high stress times.

Anime has long been oversaturated with ‘harem’ stories- where a usually unwitting protagonist somehow gets a bevy of beauties in love with them- but it’s still unfortunately really unusual to see bisexual harems, especially ones with a girl at the center, so right away there’s a big draw to this story that helps it stick out from the rest. (And worry not, the story is largely focused on Katarina having fun with these pals-who-are-not-so-secretly-in-love-with-her, rather than having a ton the dubious shenanigans you see in more sexually charged tales.)

Harem protoganists also famously tend to have the personality of potatoes, being so painfully bland it’s unclear why so many people would fall in love with them in the first place. But that definitely not the case for Katarina. She’s brash, ridiculous, kind and INCREDIBLY dense, and that for a pretty dynamic combination in this setting! She does genuinely come off as a fun person to be around. Unlike a lot of modern isekai shows, she doesn’t stumble into having incredible magic powers or skills, so her compassion is genuinely her greatest strength and what saves the day and wins hearts time and time again.

Katarina’s five brain cells doing their weekly check-in

(The moment she won my heart was when she responded to a tragic Frozen style situation with her friend locking himself away from people because he believed his magic was dangerous by taking an axe to his door. My kinda girl!)

The premise also allows for some plausible built-in reasons for the characters to take such special notice of Katarina- having been raised in a different world, she isn’t beholden to all the social rules, class divisions and noble family drama all the other kids in this very specific midevial-esque fantasy world are so embroiled in. This combined with her naturally earnest, accepting and straightfoward nature means she’s able to cross boundaries and reach out to them in a way they aren’t accustomed to. She was significant in each character’s life because she genuinely was the first to show them acceptance and affection without pretense, if only because she isn’t even aware there was supposed to be a pretense.

Katarina’s focus on trying not to die and her fear she’s going to meet the same fate as the villainess in the game also at least gives some kind of a basis to her comical obliviousness to everyone being in love with her. She assumes that everyone has to be into Maria (the heroine) and terrified of her because that’s how the game GOES okay, that’s CANON! Of course, this logic stretches thin as time goes on and it would be abundantly clear to most people that things have diverged greatly from the game’s storyline, but the show makes it clear that Katarina’s determined, one track mind is as much a gift as a curse.

Her bullheadedness when it comes to picking up how everyone REALLY feels about her is an intentional gag on the show’s part and even her love interests are well aware of what a colossal dumbass she is and not afraid to point it out!

My Next Life as a Villainess isn’t without its flaws, and the personalities/backstories of some of the ‘love interests’ Katarina gathers may be a stumbling block on some- mostly the male ones. Geordo, “the black hearted prince” has a bit of the “ possessive shoujo bad boy” archetype about him, and though he’s far from the worst that genre of love interest has to offer (there’s not much bad he can get up to due to Katarina’s obliviousness, the lighthearted nature of the show, and his rivals constantly getting in his way), the way he refuses to break Katarina and his engagement off despite her repeatedly asking him to, as well as some of his lines here and there, are definitely NOT cute.

Keith is Katarina’s adopted brother, but clearly has a thing for her too. On one hand, they only first met when they were nine and he fell for her pretty immediately. On the other hand, he still refers to her as “sister” constantly which is kinda eesh.

The other two guys are all right- Nicol’s big thing is he’s inexpressive and doesn’t talk much which, considering show doesn’t spend much time inside his head, doesn’t make him a very interesting character in the ensemble (maybe he comes across better in the novels) but there’s nothing wrong with him. Alan is undoubtedly the Best Boy in my book. He’s another common trope- rambunctious and competitive with Katarina but clearly soft for her- but he’s done well and they have a lot of cute moments together.

I find the girl love interests to be a much more interesting group overall, though this may be my obvious bias talking. Sophia has the strongest connection to Katarina, their backstories being intertwined in a surprising and touching way (I’m told in the novels her affection for Katarina was treated as more platonic, but the anime definitely plays it up as having romantic elements). Maria’s original role as the game’s heroine puts her in the most interesting position (and would make her the most narratively satisfying choice of love interest, if the show was actually interested in choosing). And while Mary is comically tenacious in her pursuit of Katarina, she’s doesn’t ever act ‘sinister’ or overstep boundaries in the way Geordo does, her “scheming” only really amounting to straightforwardly asking if Katarina wants to ditch her fiance and run away with her.

As I mentioned, one thing that really contributes to My Next Life as a Villainess being a relaxing watch is that the queer characters are treated with casual acceptance. Mary in particular isn’t subtle about her crush on Katarina, but nobody bats an eye at her and she’s completely open and comfortable with herself too. The observing maid notes that the girls are in love with Katarina with the same bland affect as when she notes she notes the guys are. And while the social practices of the nobles are pretty heteronormative- girls are always engaged in arranged marriages to guys, the guys are expected to dance with the girls (something Mary complains about!)- there’s apparently a booming queer romance novel industry that inspires our young wlw.

Katarina, having grown up in a different world, seems to be the one most prone to heteronormativity of her group. She never really considers that a girl would ever fall in love with her, but is also never hostile to the idea. It’s telling that when Mary very clearly indicates her desired romantic partner would be a girl, Katarina’s the only one that gets tripped up and has to walk back her assumption that Mary would be talking about a guy.

Mary LAYING DOWN THE LAW

Also, Katarina has SEVERAL “she’s so cute! My heart is beating faster!” moments with the other girls, on par in frequency with her moments with the guys. This strongly hints she’s an oblivious bisexual disaster.

So, My Next Life as Villainess is a fun, frothy watch and the rare positive example of silly wish-fufillment that’s inclusive to a wlw audience. But is the actual plot good, or remotely complex? The answer to that is no, the plot is fairly predictable and one definitely shouldn’t got into this story expecting a deep examination of the nature of fate or anything like that.There’s no real explanation of big reason as to why why Katarina was reborn into this game world and so on.

The antagonist that does eventually emerge plays off otome game tropes a bit, but ultimately isn’t that interesting or built up all that well. . The attempts at drama the show makes towards the end fall a little flat, especially since it tends to rely on very-late-in-the-game-exposition-dumps (dark magic isn’t even MENTIONED as existing in this world until like, the second to last episode where it becomes relevant and we get a vague infodump explaining its mechanics). The conflict honestly almost feels shoehorned in and the climax is pretty standard and doesn’t really utilize the big cast of characters all that well

But in the end, that’s okay! The show makes it abundantly clear from the beginning it’s not here to be Deep, but to be some silly fun. And it really fulfills that purpose well, from it’s catchy, peppy theme tune to its consistently warm tone. It MAY get repetitive at times for some, and I do have some quibbles- like how I found the childhood segments to be some of the shows best material and wish we could have stayed in that section for a bit instead of rushing through it, how I wish Katarina had kept her cute little scar, etc- but overall, it was definitely the soothing balm I needed during a very rough time and I absolutely recommend it if you’re looking for a chill, feel-good watch.

And hey, a second season’s supposed to be on the way too, so there’s something to potentially look forward to!

#my next life as a villainess #my next life as a villianess all routes lead to doom #destruction flag otome #otome gemu no hametsu furagu shika nai akuyaku reijo ni tensei shiteshimatta #anime overview #katarina claes #catarina claes #my reviews #spring 2020 anime

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astrodances · 3 years

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**SLIGHT SPOILERS for “The Fight for Castle McDuck!” ahead!**

Because writing Goldie and Louie texting is so much fun.

*****

Yet Another Secret of Clan McDuck!

Goldie both loves and hates room service.

She loves the anticipation of knowing that a nice, hot meal that she didn’t have to make herself can and will arrive at any minute, ready for her to dig into after a long day of going after her next mark. But at the same time...she hates the actual waiting.

Still, it gives her time to freshen up, relax a bit. Maybe get a movie started on the TV, or text a certain green...nephew.

Only a week ago now, Goldie found out from her sources (while heading down to the Underworld to get a certain fallen wreath) that Louie had been at The Spice-A-Torium in Instanbull the week before that, facing off against Rockerduck himself, with the help of yet another kid to add to the family list (how many did that make now?). Of course, Goldie had texted him right after hearing that to see how he fared (she knew things could get spicy at those dealings), but what she didn’t tell him is that her source had said that Louie had used her as a reference in a couple of side deals, calling her “Aunt Goldie,” and that now, people were identifying him as “O’Gilt’s nephew.”

She really should’ve reminded him not to throw out ties that casually, that people could use it against him, or even her, but...they both have reputations that protect them (and if not, well, they’d be messing with the wrong aunt then). And, if she’s being honest with herself...she likes the way “O’Gilt’s nephew” sounds.

Not that she’s going to tell him that anytime soon.

Goldie sinks into her room’s couch, her phone already out and opened to her texts, and wills her heart to ignore that increasingly-familiar familial warmth bubbling up once again. Scrooge and the kids are staying in Dismal Downs for a couple of days, and it’s bad enough that she’s planning on sneaking into McDuck Manor before they get back not to steal something, but to surprise Scrooge and Louie when they get there.

But that doesn’t mean her heart has to make a big deal out of it.

Goldie: How’s the castle, kid?

It’s getting close to midnight in Scotland, so Goldie won’t be surprised if she doesn’t hear from Louie until tomorrow on the half-chance he’s already asleep. She drops her phone to her side and picks up her water bottle from the end table, taking sip after sip.

After a minute, her phone buzzes with a message, then another, making her smile more than she has any right to.

Sharpie: Cold as ever. And y’know, we found some magical bagpipes, saved them from some bad guys, and had some statues of our ancestors come to life. Typical day. 😝

Sharpie: Also we met our Aunt Matilda.

Goldie smiles again, this time though over Scrooge’s sister. She’s met her exactly twice, both times by circumstance (her past self would never have let her get close enough to Scrooge to willingly want to meet his family), but each time ended up being a riot as Matilda would tease Scrooge for having a girlfriend, thus helping her give him hell (yet another trait of her past self). Looking back between those meetings and the first night she met the triplets, Goldie now knows exactly where the boys get their teasing gene from.

Goldie: I like her. Give her my regards.

Goldie looks up and finally takes stock of what’s on TV. Whatever channel she put it on has delved into a new movie, some comedy from the forties. She can live with it, so she turns her attention to the time on her phone just as a new message comes in.

Any minute now. Food.

But for now, she’s looking at a selfie of Louie with Matilda leaning over his shoulder, waving at the camera. They’re surrounded by bits of concrete and other debris, with their sleeves rolled up and their clothes covered in dust, and Goldie can just make out the back of Scrooge’s broadcloth coat in the background as he lifts something onto a pedestal of some sort.

Sharpie: She’s right here. She says hi!

Goldie grins and nods silently at her phone, happy to see both of them looking well, but surprised at how...awake everyone seems to be in the castle at their hour.

Goldie: Hi Matilda!

Goldie: Also: did a twister take a wrong turn in Glasgow?

Sharpie: Right. The statues? They kinda made a mess of things, so we have to fix them. There was...a lot of fighting here tonight.

She doesn’t press it, not now. She’s about to eat, and everyone there seems to be happy for now. Luckily for her, Louie saves her from having to think of something to say in response.

Sharpie: Wait, oh man, hang on.

Goldie does as told, watching with renewed interest as a few seconds pass before those three little typing bubbles pop up. Briefly, she considers that the statues have come back to life.

After more than a minute of on-again/off-again bubbles, she finds herself getting interested in the movie and drinking her water again. Just as she takes a long sip, a new text chimes in.

Sharpie: Aunt Matilda wants me to ask you, how are things in Goldieburg?

Goldie does a spit take, her water spraying out into the room and all over her phone screen. Whatever brain cells she has left are used to automatically wipe her screen across her sleeve to dry it, because she’s otherwise occupied with her face heating up and Louie’s last word echoing through her head.

Goldieburg???

Matilda’s teasing. It must be her teasing, though...Goldieburg...is definitely a new one. One she can’t even begin to imagine the origins of, though she suspects that Scrooge’s face is probably just as red as hers right now. She also suspects that another fight is starting up, and judging by the fact that Louie was able to send his last text, she’d wager that Matilda is winning.

A knock on her door draws Goldie’s attention away from her phone, but does little to calm the growing turmoil within her. Of course her food would arrive at this moment. She spares a final gawk at her phone before getting up and throwing it to the couch cushions.

It takes all remaining ounces of her self-control for Goldie to ignore the bellboy’s questioning stares at her frenzied appearance as he pushes her room service table into the room, pops open the wine for her, and tells her that she can call the front desk at anytime for them to come get the table when she’s done. She doesn’t know how much she actually tips him, but judging by the wide, bubbly grin that replaces his stare as he rushes out, her mind was far from her wallet when she opened it.

Food. Also far from her mind, for now.

Goldie snatches up her phone as soon as the door is locked again, hoping that there’ll be some explanation waiting for her.

It’s not that she’s embarrassed by the teasing - heaven knows that she’ll be the first to tease Scrooge, for any number of reasons - but this one seems so...personal. So specific. She supposed she should be flattered to affect Scrooge so much that he came up with this, whatever the circumstances. And perhaps that’s it - maybe it’s not the shock of the...uniqueness of “Goldieburg,” but rather it’s that stupid schoolgirl-crush-like warmth creeping through her veins at the idea of Scrooge getting flustered about her around his family, of him telling them about her - however involuntarily or distractedly, it seems - in a way other than a cautionary warning.

That, and Louie knows about it. Somehow, she has the feeling that this is going to be so much worse than him - any of the kids, really - calling her “aunt.”

There are notifications for seven new texts and a photo.

Sharpie: Uncle Scrooge says for you to totally read that last text and to definitely bring it up next time you see him

Sharpie: And that Goldieburg is his favorite place in the whole wide world

Sharpie: and that I should stop texting if I wanna stay in the will

Sharpie: wait what??

Goldie notices a time jump between the last text and the next.

Sharpie: Good news, I’m still in the will, thanks to Aunt Matilda.

A picture follows, of Matilda holding Scrooge back with one arm looped under his shoulder and the other holding him in a headlock. There’s a dead-seriousness in Matilda’s eyes but otherwise she looks like she just won the sibling battle to end all sibling battles. Scrooge, meanwhile, is redder than his coat, missing his hat, and looks ready to break Louie’s phone, even though there’s no way in hell he’s getting out of his current predicament, especially considering that an emu is holding one of his legs in its beak. Still, the photo seems to have been taken from a safe distance away.

(Goldie will have to ask about the emu later, when things aren’t so....chaotic.)

Sharpie: Sooooo...does this make you the mayor of Goldieburg? Or is Scrooge the mayor and you’re the leading citizen? 😂

Sharpie: Oh! Apparently there’s a Goldiesota, too!

Goldie is now very certain that she is on fire, especially with that penultimate text. It seems that she and Scrooge are both definite victims of teasing here now. She buries her head into her free hand and rubs it down her face, pausing to type out the only response she can manage right now.

Goldie: I no longer like Matilda.

Louie’s response is immediate.

Sharpie: Awww

Sharpie: But she likes you! In fact, she says she would *love* to live in Goldieburg.

Sharpie: I would, too! I can just imagine it - cons and schemes widespread, with no laws getting in the way. Infinite gold that holds its value. It’d be paradise!

Sharpie: Though I’m sure Uncle Scrooge has something different in mind.

Sharpie: Wait ew. No. Nevermind.

Sharpie: But you know what I mean.

Sharpie: 💛💛💛💛💛

Goldie rolls her eyes, and takes a deep breath. Suddenly her appetite is back, and the movie seems very captivating. She needs a distraction right now, anything to quell the butterflies. She may be warming up to the idea of family, but right now, she feels like she’s being pulled straight into the heart of the castle across the ocean, and that’s a little too much.

So she throws her phone on silent and wanders over to the room service table, taking a swig of wine straight from the bottle before lifting the tray cover on the center plate to see the juiciest-looking steak one could ever hope for, still steaming.

Culinary bliss.

By the time she finishes eating, Goldie is certain that all of Castle McDuck is asleep, or that they should be. She saw enough debris in those pictures, they’ll need the rest to finish cleaning up tomorrow. So she dares to turn her phone face-up again and take it off silent mode.

Handfuls of texts from multiple people, and several missed calls.

She delves into those from Scrooge first. As much as she doesn’t want to talk to him yet about all this - and she’s sure he feels the same way - if he tried to reach out to her, then she knows he’s going to at least provide the basic facts, without any teasing. An anchor point for her to refer to in her other texts.

Sourdough: Don’t listen to any of them, the hellions! I swear it’s not what you think. Whatever it is you’re thinking.

Sourdough: We can talk this over if you want, dear. Whenever you want.

Sourdough: Or not talk it over. I personally would like to forget Matilda ever opened her big dumb mouth.

Sourdough: Correction. Matilda does “not have a big dumb mouth and tell her that I am the best sister you could ever hope for, or I’ll serve Emu-tilda her breakfast in your hat.”

That text earns a particularly amused snicker from Goldie. She can just imagine the giant bird she saw in the picture earlier staring Scrooge down as he typed that.

Sourdough: Look, can I call you?

Goldie surmises the missed calls from Scrooge happened here.

Sourdough: Never mind. We’ll catch up after this trip. When I’m *not* surrounded by these...troublemakers. Good night, love.

The butterflies have moved from Goldie’s stomach to her heart, and an entirely new anticipation fills her with excitement. If she was a schoolgirl in this situation, she imagines this would be like having to wait over the weekend to talk to her crush on the playground on Monday. Never mind the fact that she’s not even trying to figure out how to get out of this, at least not yet, she realizes belatedly.

There’s one more text from Scrooge, sent after a time jump.

Sourdough: Do NOT believe anything you hear about Clan McScrooge!

Goldie has to stifle a laugh at that, and guesses that she’ll definitely be seeing more of “Clan McScrooge” in her other text messages. But first...

Goldie: Good night, Scroogey. 😘

She’s so tempted to send “Scroogey McScroogey,” but between that and “Goldieburg,” she really shouldn’t tempt fate when they’re all each other has in a boat surrounded by teasing family.

It takes all of five seconds for Scrooge to send back a response, one that’s so simple but enough to tune out the night’s noise for a few moments.

Sourdough: ❤️

She imagines him fumbling to put his phone back on his nightstand next to some big ornate medieval-style bed, his mind already luring him back to a deep sleep. Never mind the whole “Goldieburg” thing, it sounds like he already had an exhausting night between the fighting and the statues and the bagpipes. And the emu.

As she swipes back to see her conversations, Goldie immediately notices an unknown number with a few texts waiting for her. After reading the first one, she makes a contact for it.

Emu-tilda: Goldie! This is Matilda, Scrooge’s favorite sister.

Emu-tilda: Louie gave me your phone number to help make sure you’re okay.

Okay? Goldie pauses, a wave of uninvited guilt washing over her, and she fights every instinct to immediately switch to Louie’s texts. Instead, she wills herself to read through Matilda’s, if at a faster speed.

Emu-tilda: I’m sorry about Goldieburg and all. When I saw that it was you that Louie was talking to, I wanted to get under Scroogey’s skin a bit, so I told the bairns a tale from ages ago.

Emu-tilda: I’m sure Scrooge will fill you in, and if not, I’ll be more than happy to.

Goldie makes a mental note of the offer, and of the ensuing picture of a smiling, somewhat frazzled-looking Matilda with her arm wrapped around her emu, posing for the camera. She’ll respond to her texts later, but for now, she switches to her conversation with Louie, having to scroll back up to where he left off.

Sharpie: An update: Uncle Scrooge got out of the headlock, and is now chasing Aunt Matilda on her emu around the room.

Sharpie: Matilda’s on the emu, that is. Scrooge can’t catch his breath.

Sharpie: Oh! Now they’re in the hallways!

Sharpie: And Scrooge has a sword from the wall.

Sharpie: He’s totally defending your honor.

A blurry picture follows of Scrooge from behind, wielding a sword as he runs after his sister, a scowl clear on the visible side of his face. Goldie saves the photo - she can definitely use this later.

Sharpie: Wait no, now the emu has the sword!

Another picture, this one much more stable, follows again. Indeed, the emu has somehow gotten ahold of Scrooge’s sword and is now chasing him through some sort of dining hall. Matilda herself even looks surprised and worried as she clutches at the feathers on the bird’s back.

Another keeper for the camera roll, if only for the sheer hilarity of it all.

Sharpie: Ok, Great-Grandma Downy is awesome. She totally just yanked the sword right out of the emu’s mouth while she was still running. Emu’s confined to Matilda’s room for the rest of the night. We’re all having some hot chocolate around a fire.

Sharpie: So, all’s well that end’s well.

There’s another time jump before the last batch of texts.

Sharpie: Right...?

Sharpie: Aunt Goldie?

Sharpie: You’re not mad about all this, are you? We’re all sorry for teasing you and Uncle Scrooge, and I know he didn’t mean anything bad by Goldieburg.

Sharpie: Are you ok?

Judging from the next few texts, Goldie guesses that this is when the missed calls from Louie came in.

Sharpie: I’m guessing you’re busy. At least, I hope so.

Sharpie: Again, it was all just some family teasing. Y’know how it is.

Sharpie: If it makes you feel any better, you can bring up Clan McScrooge the next time you talk to him.

Sharpie: Goldie?

Goldie blinks up from her phone, overwhelmed by the growing panic radiating from the texts and the guilt rekindled in herself. The idea of Louie, let alone anyone in Scrooge’s family, being this worried about her, even if there’s no actual cause for it, makes it hard to swallow and she finds herself quickly reaching for her water, chugging down the last third of it.

Y’know how it is.

She can’t say that she does. Her own family was never this close, never bounced back this easily after fights. They never...cared like this.

Maybe her heart’s right in making a big deal out of this.

After a few deep breaths, Goldie finally answers Louie.

Goldie: I’m ok, Sharpie. Was just eating dinner, had my phone on silent. Didn’t mean to scare you.

She’s very much surprised and totally-not-touched when he immediately texts back. He should definitely be asleep at this point.

Sharpie: Oh good. So, you’re not mad?

Goldie: Mad? No. Curious about the emu? Most definitely.

Sharpie: 😂😂 Understandable.

Goldie: You should be in bed though.

Sharpie: Oh I am! Couldn’t sleep yet though.

Goldie: Uh-huh. Love you too. Now go to sleep.

Sharpie: 🥰😴💛

Goldie: 💚

Not even half an hour ago, Goldie would have sworn off her impending trip to McDuck Manor in the name of not wanting to face Scrooge after the revelation of Goldieburg. But now the trip is back on, and she can’t deny to herself that she’s eager to see the ones she cares about.

That, and pay a visit to Scrooge McScrooge, mayor of Goldieburg.

#DuckTales #DuckTales spoilers #The Fight for Castle McDuck!#Goldie O'Gilt #Louie Duck #Scrooge McDuck #Hortense McDuck #Scheme Team #scroldie #my fanfics

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