#''carrying a mildly heavy thing that knocks against your legs as you walk and gets jostled around''

[whataboutfractions]

[wroteclassicaly]

May I Taste Your Sin

(Michael Langdon x Female Reader)

Pairings : Michael Langdon x Female Reader

Warnings : Language, smut, blood, vaginal sex, vaginal fingering, oral sex, blood play, & period sex.

A/N : This fic has been a loooong time coming! I’m sorry it’s taken me this long, but now that I have inspo I wanted get this out for y’all! The warnings are obviously self-explanatory, so skip this if you don’t like the contents it’s gonna contain! Michael Langdon eats human hearts, and he’s a demon, before anyone starts to fuss over this, lol. I’m sure menstrual cycles with his partner would be a dessert to him!

Enjoy! This one is pretty intense, so I’m nervous about it! I also have more installments with different characters coming in the next few days! :)

Check out where I first posted the teaser for this fic, and check out these period sex headcanons I wrote for Michael!

~*~

He keeps staring at you. You try to move about, do your tasks, even attempt conversation with people you’d tried so hard to avoid these past several years. Your abilities to function like the human being that you are, seemingly vanish whenever the tall honey blond is within your exhausted proximities. You aren’t sure if you’d like to let out the loudest echoing scream and see where it ends up in this place, or let your wildest carnal urges guide your hormones into a literal sticky situation. Or, at the very least, let yourself fantasize about seducing him in your own self-created version of reality.

You’ll have to settle on the latter, unfortunately. Pocketing the cream colored dish rag, you place the last row of finely printed novels on the book shelve. Your fingertips linger, attempting to find a portal through their leather cover tops. Your tongue slicks your parched lips, neck stretching to crack out the tension. You aren’t trying to do anything but stealing some relaxation, when a largely hot hand is pressing a knot-out in a knead on your shoulder - clasping, settling a risky purchase.

You don’t have to make an educated guess to know whose hand that belongs to. He practically spews out his control and ownership of this place every chance that he gets. Biting down a venomous sigh, you coerce yourself into a turn around - gathering an eyeful of Langdon’s fancy black vest. That’s not good enough for the King, apparently, as he fits his pointer finger underneath your chin in a tuck, thumb pressing against your jaw to tilt your gaze to his own.

“Did you forget your manners, Miss Y/L/N?”

The way his shining eyes are sizing your attention, captivating your unwillingness to comply to how Langdon makes you feel - it can’t be humanly possible, can it? There’s that possessive ache that begs you to launch ownership over him and his entire body. Why is everything so widely dramatic whenever he’s around? Is he just full of himself or is it something way more than you’re aware? A crackling parch winds its pathway around your throat, sealing your breath in.

Nothing comes from between your lips. You’re frozen solid, legs a weightless press. Each touch this... man brings upon your body is like a bass thump - pumping you towards his secretive rhythm. All you can do is sway with the beat. Langdon smirks coyly, his other hand resting behind his back in an idle grace.

Neither of you dare utter a word. However, Langdon is seemingly content in making you squirm and you try to focus on everything but his perfectly crafted jawline, and how eagerly you’d suck on it if asked. You swear you can hear your heartbeat galloping off, so strong that it can tear your heart right out of your chest along with it. His colorful eyes glance over you in a brief stamping sweep, lingering at your sore breasts and your waistline.

What is he even doing...?

“Excuse me, but Ms. Venable did not authorize any private conferences with the help.” A cold and steel - grasped voice chills your bones down, dusting your cheeks with a reddening humiliation.

You haven’t even so much as spoken to Langdon, yet it feels like you two have been clawing and scratching at each other all over this fucking outpost, riding one another until you can’t fathom walking upright. You still can’t speak, but Langdon takes care of that for you.

“Interesting, and did Ms. Venable give you permission to waltz in here when you weren’t requested or required, just to give a meaningless order?” Langdon is mildly amused in his question, his hand still paused on your chin, thumb now swiping in a tickling drop with his fingertip - along your jaw.

Ms. Mead looks comical in her brief attempt at forming a snappy comeback, only to go silent in defeat. You take this tension as your escape line - quickly edging from the sacred confines Langdon has built for you two, and you all but run out the door. You’re clutching your shirt collar, punching a two pounce path up the staircase and to the help’s quarters.

Chores now, panic later.

~*~

Five minutes. Five fucking minutes in this place that you’ve served without question, complaint, for nearly two years - is all you want. But as the heavy handed rasps of Mead’s knuckle bones beat on your bathroom door, you know that is a simple pipe dream. Her low voice is harsh with you, making your headache unfold into a full blown migraine. You shift uncomfortably, knees knocking together, thighs sore against the cool porcelain seat below you.

Langdon must’ve massively pissed her off... Good.

Your palms collect purchase to your cradle your face, your eyes glistening with tears, throat burning with frustration. It hurts too much to stand upright this time. Normally women would lose this in stressful situations. Add the apocalypse and barely eating, you’d peg it normal to receive nothing. However, your predicament is much worse, fucking you over once more.

Your body welcomes Mother Nature each month. Unpredictable, yet there. Heavy, excruciating. You could list on and on reasons that don’t amount to much. You’re stuck with a part of you that won’t ever come to fruition.

Not in your former life, especially not in this one. Another reminder that carries an award winning irony. Sighing, you peer down at the red dish rag you were given. Literally on the rag, what a joyous harmony. The elites of course, are given the tampons and pads.

You have to use scraps of fabric you’re forced to wash in the bathtub if you move too fast or sneeze. And on your heavy days when you haven’t the time to stop your duties to wash and air out the towels, things are much harder. At least before the apocalypse you had chocolate, feminine products, a warm shower to take your time in, movies to curl up with, and a place of your own to cry where no one could hear you. You sniffle, hormones locking down your heart.

Most recently the outpost had welcomed the cooperative leader Langdon. He had interviewed everyone but you, uninterested, only flustering you a few times. Him being here just makes your period a more unwelcome storm. This morning as you were passing him on the landing of the staircase, delivering the bath towels to elite rooms, he stared at you. Right into you, nostrils flaring, tongue rolling out to slick his plump lips, blue eyes darkening.

Then there was this afternoon. How could I forget...?

The encounters were over quicker than they took place. Still, his acknowledgment of you didn’t bring your interview, nor did it promise your application for the sanctuary he preaches about. Forcing your tears to bank, you stand with your dress skirt and apron held up, staring at the stained rag in your panties. You turn and flush the toilet, eating back around to the shock of your fucking life. There, just feet in the from the doorway, is Langdon in all his glory.

It makes you swallow harshly, stomach drawing off the butterflies that have grown claws. You feel winded. His ring covered fingers bring an object to your sights. A thinly wrapped stick. You don’t answer, you don’t move, you don’t protest him approaching until he’s directly in front of you.

“What do you think you’re doing?” You try, a mere whisper betraying your bravery.

“Helping you,” He answers simply, a heated slide crossing his mouth. You can practically taste him, damn near swaying forward.

You start to snap back into your senses, ready to cover your remembered modesty back up. He grasps your wrist, a hungry look soft in his features. “Will you let me?”

You’re shaking, body on fire at him touching you, you try to keep your legs from clenching, that want. You know what will occur if you let yourself. He is gentle with you, admiration clear. Why? You don’t understand this.

“You’re bleeding, I know.”

Jaw unhinged, you stand upright, his fingers still ghosting your skin. An unlucky movement on your part, the warmth spills from you and you look down between your thighs in horror at the red lines running down your legs, pattering against the floor. Langdon is breathing heavily, practically panting, stunning you once more. His other hand grips your cheek, thumb swiping your lip, eyes not breaking contact from yours.

“Do you know how good your cunt smells? Every pathetic person in this outpost is starving and you have the best meal between your fucking legs.”

When your silence stretches on, Michael nudges forward, careful with you. “May I feast?”

It’s all too much to handle. Having him talk to you, you speaking to him. And now this? How? You begin to grow dizzy, hands trembling as you try to pull your clothing back up. Langdon’s hands grip your wrists.

“Please don’t do that.”

You want to stun him incredulously, backhand him. None of that is happening, not even the urge. Instead, your want for him is magnifying beyond any feigned ignorance. Your tongue slides out across your lips, teeth biting down on your bottom lip in a brisk chew. Langdon hooks his middle finger between your teeth, releasing your lip and combing the blood across in a coppery gloss.

Your chest is startled, rising and falling in quivering quakes, ears hearing a static rush. Everything inside of you is alive and crying out in need to be sated. Langdon grips you around the waist, lowering his forehead to rest atop your own, his middle finger - still doused in your blood - slithers past his own lips, which close in a sticky suckle. A vibrating moan pummels his throat, causing a constricting swallow that showcases his Adam’s apple.

If I could only just lick that...

Langdon is sly and devilishly cunning to a fault - fast in his next movements. He presses a designer boot down over your skirts, successfully preventing them from being made up. “Leave them here for someone else.”

“I... I can’t. This is too much, Langdon —“ He chuckles at the formality.

“Since I can see your womanhood running from between your legs, I suppose it’s only fair that we skip some formalities, don’t you agree, Y/N?” Your eyes are probably wider than necessary - a cartoon like sight. He’s used your full name in an authoritative command, leaving no room for question. “And you may call me Michael.”

It’s all a little more frantic from this point. He gives the slightest of information, and you see your skirts and panties gliding across the floor in a winded push. Michael brings that wrapped item back into your eye-line. “We won’t be needing this for a while.”

“I didn’t say yes.” You try, swallowing a weak, whimpering stifle.

“But you didn’t say no, did you?” That shit eating grin. He has you and he is all too aware - elated to the brimming brimstone of hellfire you’re about to bestow upon yourself.

Your insides melt into the trenches of red hot, raw ravishment. Michael drops his left arm down, hand palming his hardening cock through black slacks, eyes encouraging you in a chained bind. “Let’s go and make a mess in my room.”

Now or never. No more of this, back to reality, maybe some place better. You’re spinning in a foiling encasement, precipice wide and open - hungry to pull you under. And you dive in, you let it all go. Michael looks satisfied, sharing something with himself that you don’t know... yet.

Taking Michael Langdon’s hand, you’re led into the unknown.

~*~

Langdon leads you down his own separate corridor, your free hand scolded for trying to hold yourself over your uniform.

“I want you to make a mess.” Michael says.

You hope that you’re not the one who will be paying the cost for your own said mess, or cleaning it up. If it’s up to Venable - you’ll be licking it, all the way to her high heeled boots.

Once inside the confines of Michael Langdon’s bedroom, you take the time to look around, enjoying the perks this situation is bringing. The room isn’t any different than what the purple elites get here, it is bordering on a more... lived in feel, which is ironic when you consider that Langdon hasn’t been here like everyone else has for the past three years.

Guess he’s just more comfortable? He does look like an English vampire half the time..

On that note, a particularly harsh cramp antagonizes your uterus, causing you to clench your abdomen, choking out a acidic slice. “Fucking demonic cramps.”

Michael - now clad in his all black ensemble, minus the overcoat - chortles, knotting his fingers together behind his back and strolls forward, wetting his lips as the firelight crackles a sparking soundtrack. “It’s ironic how you refer to it as “demonic”, when Satan really has nothing to do with this. I mean, it’s not on him that humanity failed their pitiful guidelines for sobering temptation. Wasn’t it your lord and savior that bestowed this curse upon you?” He finishes, giving a head tilt to your unhinged stun.

“Are you religious?” Is all you can come up with.

Michael sneers, looking slightly offended. It fades seconds later. “Depends on your definition of religious, and then there is what one believes in. But I guess you can say that I’m devoted to... a certain cause.”

“Were you this mysterious before the apocalypse, or is that why the cooperative gave you the job?” You try, a discomfort crackling at your inner thighs.

They’re probably smeared... And not just with blood.

“I bet you’re uncomfortable.” Michael teases, snapping his fingers at the fireplace. Did your eyes betray you, or did the flames flicker?

You want to give a snappy comeback, but it feels unwise. You nod like the sap that you are, nails biting your palms. Your heartbeat has begun to accelerate, a visible sight beneath your apron. Langdon guides himself to step in front of you, leather shoes drumming across the floor beneath. Every sound in this forsaken room is flowing through your eardrums - Michael’s scent on the tip of your tongue.

You need him. More than your body has to have the air that filters underneath this mausoleum. You’re so unsteady, eyes brimming with the smoking arousal, blocking common sense. Michael catches you as you collide with his chest, wrapping your fists into his vest. His blue irises are disappearing to a canyon of night sky - lavish black so sinful that it steals the breath from your lungs.

Drizzling off your tongue is a hesitation. “Won’t we get into trouble...? Venable -“ Those rough fingertips hold a softness that hushes your lips, denting.

“Can watch me with my face buried into your cunt. The humiliation will arouse her.” Michael answers in his own finish.

You aren’t sure why, but that grates your mouth into a sneaky grin, shared with Michael’s, sensing that slapping throb at his phrases. He pinches your chin, nuzzling your head to the side, his lips sloping a map across your neck. His towering physique backs you by knocking his knees into your thighs, delivering you to the edge of his bed. You drop like wild weights, looking towards the ceiling, trying to take a deep inhalation. Langdon crouches, pants rustling as they tighten around his temptingly thick thighs.

He tuts in a scold, chiding you furthermore. “You will watch what I’m getting ready to do to you! Is that clear, Y/N?”

You don’t answer fast enough, Michael’s hand wrapping around your throat, eyes burning hellfire through you - dusting your bones to ash. Your throat is wet with the clingy, unshed tears. Fuck, you have to be filled up until you’re hollowed out. Michael is languid in grace, hand toppling into your lap, joining his other.

“Take down your hair, Y/N.”

Like a puppet, you obey your new owner. Unwrapping the pointed bun, you shake your locks free, sighing in an eased tickle.

“What a good and obedient girl that you are. Those who obey, shall reap the riches.”

“Why are you doing this?” An ignorant question on your part.

“Because,” As if it’s the most simple answer in this broken world, Michael let’s his hands start to unbutton his vest, carelessly sending it, his attention not wavering off you in the slightest. “I’m hungry.”

A literal moan comes from you, making Langdon hiss through his through his milky white teeth. He resumes his former position, hovering.

“Spread.” Michael says, a quaint wonder adorning him, his palms sliding up and down your legs to feel you part them. The blood is mixing some fucked out potion with your creamy arousal for him, and he knows it, has it right into your tremble from the exposure.

Your skin is steaming in scrapes, responding so vulgarly to Michael, that he is hooking his wrists under your knees, bouncing the flesh into his awaiting hands, and claiming. He hoists your legs over his shoulders to arch you to his idea of perfection. You should be protesting, in a shambled shyness. That is gone, no place here. Michael let’s his nose rest in the crease of your thigh, crudely sniffing like some beast.

His sopping tongue finds a striking stroke along your ruby red, damp thigh.

Closer... He’s getting closer...

When you can’t feel that warm and snide air he possesses, you lock to load a question. Michael is shedding himself of his remaining clothing in a cocky crawl. His hair curtains his face as he sees you seek out his cock - thick and heavy, weighted and wet with pre-cum.

“Finish taking off your clothing.” You’ve never done something so fast in your years alive.

You have to admit, being so vulnerable like this - naked and bleeding, it has you buzzing.

Michael outstretches a veined forearm, the back of his rings swirling in desiring dances across your breasts. “Do these hurt?”

Your lashes are slicked in perspiring tears, the tired soreness harassing your chest. He has his truth. His trim form bows to you once more, placing your legs back where they belong. He knuckles a pressing push into your abdomen. “Bear down.”

It isn’t an accident this time, it’s not a discreet secrecy. Michael wants you this way. All of you. Finding a confidence, you give yourself a high and sink your fingers into his hair, toes tickling his shoulder blades in a forwarding nudge, doubling down on your muscles. That warmth spills out of you and Langdon takes you, tongue parting your swollen folds. He regulates his tongue in wet paints, licking and sucking everything you give him.

“Please—“ You’re already begging. It’s so fucking intense and intimate that you can’t formulate your own damned name.

“Are you really going to ask, or would you just like to feel good?” Michael vibrates, his mouth visible and shining crimson as he seeks you out between your slippery thighs.

It’s outright feral. His irises are coal black, blue lost in some combing canyon that’s crumbled around sin. His digits prod at your sensitive opening, being accepted moments later. His lips close over your clit, tongue slithering back and forth to assist his beckoning fingers. He gathers more from you - his purpose.

That quenched fold starts to seize you early on, your pattering breaths signaling the orgasm that is about to tear the screams from your fucking diaphragm. Michael’s hand smacks and rolls your swollen breast - permission granted. That’s all it takes and you’re falling back onto the mattress, back arching in a lined drag, pussy flattening against his mouth. He jerks you impossibly closer, your vision whiting out into dark spots. You tangle your fingers further into his luscious strands, holding, pulling.

In the midst of close recovery, Michael is plowing you with a short lived let down, his mouth leaving your pussy. You can’t complain, no time available, as his hips slot in a frazzled fit between your legs. His pelvis is tense, sheathed in sweat. His chest smashes your breasts, his hand reaching down to guide his cock inside you. You can’t speak, but cling tightly to his back. He growls a sound that you’ll never forget, the fire bursting behind him, flames licking the rocked cove that houses them.

His mouth is covered in your essence, your cunt bathing his dick with each violent thrust. It’s pouring in drenches, salty perspiration, pooling blood - both of you losing yourselves in the mess. Michael props himself up, digging into a dipping slam, meeting your mouth in an ending kiss. His hair tickles your shoulders, nose nudges your now blood caked mouth, and he gives the warning.

“Spill your fucking curse all over me!” And you come undone, glued to him in puzzled entrapment.

Your thighs are wrecked, his bedsheets useless, and then there’s Michael, who forces you to look at him and really see him. There’s only black in his eyes. You sputter a disbelief, bracing. His mouth parts, tongue flicks across to gather more, leveling off into his jagged movements. He swells inside your cunt, dousing your walls in his warm cum.

He doesn’t leave you, not even when it’s over. He simply takes you with him. You aren’t sure where you get the courage to speak - body shaking and shivering.

“What... Michael, who are you?”

He cups a hand over your cunt, rolling onto his side, keeping you held to him. He lightly blows away a pesky lock of your hair, then maneuvers another behind your ear.

“I’m the man who’s going to save your wretched existence.”

Tag list : @littledemondani @dark-mei-rose @fckinsupreme @angelicmichael @icylangdon @ritualmichael @sojournmichael @celestialrequiem @instinctsxbaby @infernwetrust @ferndolan @9layerdevilfoodcake @bloodcoatedeclipse @wormycircumstance @antichristsxbox @xavierplympton @xavierplymptons @ramona-thorns @lovelylangdonx @langdxn @codyarchives @dailylangdon @codyfernuk @langdonsjoyy @7-wonders @blakescoven @holylangdon @bitchchatter @suspiriva @taskmastter @kitty4860 @ladynuwanda @langdonsexual @sammythankyou

[sugoi-writes]

Question! How in your opinion would fatgum, todoroki, deku and dabi react to their hero s/o getting almost mortally wounded in a fight with an enemy? (they live but they were lucky as hell ) and how do they take care of s/o afterwards?

*cracks knuckles* This is a long one, so buckle up!

TW: violence, bodily harm/body horror, hospitalization.

Scenario: You are in a burning, severely damaged building, helping with evacuation and rescue during a villain attack. As the building starts to collapse, you shove the remaining survivors out, but you fall with the building. 

You have several steel pipes stabbing through you (stomach, right arm and leg), leaving you severely bleeding. To make matters worse, you’ve also earned some 2nd degree burns. You make it to the hospital... but how will your s/o react???

Fatgum

More than likely on patrol in another district, Fatgum hears a distress call from Sun Eater, who was making rounds with you. 

He and R.R rush over to the scene, and all they see are collapsed buildings, fires, and people being rushed off in stretchers. 

There are several heroes helping to fight off a BBEG who has a fire breath weapon/quirk, and super strength. He has countless goonies who are really giving the Pros some trouble.

Fatgum is acting as support, and notices that you were there as well, helping with rescue/evacuation. But Fatgum knows something is off. 

As he intervenes, catching someone with his FatTaxi to slow their fall/momentum, he hears you scream,” GO, NOW!!!”

When the building collapses, it takes everything for Fatgum not to rush to the falling building and rubble. 

He unfortunately gets caught up in a fight, and ends up having to go on the offensive to help the other Pros. 

When all is said and done, Fatgum is in his slim form, completely exhausted. Kirishima is doing his best to help him, supporting his weight. When he sees you before FG, he tries to steer him away. FG, of course, refuses. 

With him needing medical attention as well, he somehow manages to get in the same ambulance as you, and the two of you are carted to the hospital as Kirishima stays to help with cleanup. 

When you are rushed into the ER for surgery, Fatgum wants nothing more than to be there... but he’s separated, and treated for his own injuries. 

When he’s patched up, he spends HOURS outside of the operation wing, wanting to hear something, ANYTHING. He’s on the edge of his seat when Tamaki and Kirishima come to see him. They brought Fatgum some things to munch on, as they know by now that stress eating was one of the only ways to get him back to his jolly state. 

It also helped take some edge off of the situation, as Fatgum looked visibly shaken. All he can hear was the sound of your desperate scream before the building started to crumble, constantly replaying in his mind. 

When the group of 3 heroes are informed of your stabilized status, they’re all immediately relieved, but the doctor adds that you’d be knocked out until next morning, due to the medication(s) you were on. 

When Fatgum is allowed to enter your room, he almost immediately rushes to your side, kissing your hand and gripping it tightly as he watches you breathe, labored and slow. Kirishima and Tamaki can only hover around and try to comfort him, knowing that he’s going to be stubborn, unable to leave your side until you wake up. 

Fatgum will just kiss your bloodied, patched up knuckles, smiling shakily as he watches you recover,” ...hopefully you won’t have to see me like this when you wake up...” he says softly. He smiles sadly,” Even if you think it looks pretty hot... Hahaha... haaa...” His head hangs a little lower, his voice softening as he looks back up to your calm, emotionless face,” I could really hound you about not being more careful... but I’m not one to talk. Wake up soon, so I can bring you some takeout and see your smile again...”

When you do wake up, Kirishima is the one to shake Fatgum awake. Being in his slim state still, you’re the first to tense up. However, you start to cough, the tension in your chest making your ribs and stomach hurt. Fatgum pushes up back down, so you can lay back down.

“Don’t get up... I...I know I look rough. But I’m here for you, Gummy Bear. And I’m just glad that you’re okay.”

Todoroki

Todoroki, in the middle of training, gets a call from his sister. She sounds panicked, and urges Todo not to turn on the TV for any reason for the next few hours. Todoroki seems confused, and disregards his sister’s plea. 

When he turns on the TV... he sees what’s happening. The burning buildings... the smug grin on the villain’s face... and countless bodies in the streets. The camera pans to several people being carted away on stretchers, and low and behold... you were one of them. You were unconscious, a mask over your face to supply you with fresh oxygen as the air continued to fill with smoke and ash. 

Todoroki sprung from his spot, throwing his shoes and coat on almost violently. He knows his father would be on sight, as the Number One Hero, meaning that his agents were too. He makes several desperate calls to try and figure out where you were being taken. After the third attempt, someone finally caves and tells him. Todoroki knew that you were being rushed to the ER, and your surgery would be underway very shortly. 

Todoroki is there within 15 minutes, and he immediately runs into his siblings, who were trying to intervene. They knew he would be there, and that he would be distraught. 

As his sister tries to calm him, Todo’s breath is chilled the instant he exhales, and his hands are trembling, both of them subtly reflecting their quirks. He was a mess and a mixing pot of emotions. Who was responsible for this mess? Why were you on the scene, in a burning building, all alone? Why didn’t you have back up from the inside???

So many thoughts swarmed around in his head as he silently fumed and despaired, scared that the unthinkable could happen to you. But his siblings tried to keep him calm, talking with him and urging him to try and focus on positive thoughts. 

When the doctor strolled out, bearing the mildly good news, Todoroki nearly broke, his hands coming up to his face and he shuddered, not wanting to show that he was in tears. He was relieved. He was furious. He was so scared for you. 

The Todorokis were cautious as they walked towards your room. You were still unconscious, with a series of instruments and IVs hooked up to you to keep you stable. 

Todoroki could only hesitantly cup your cheeks, watching as your breath fogged up the mask over your face. He sighed shakily, kissing the top of your forehead, careful to not accidentally move you. 

“...I’m so sorry that I wasn’t there to help you...” he would rasp quietly, while his siblings stepped back,” ...I promise... never to leave your side again. No matter what happens, whatever agency you chose or where you’re assigned... I’ll be there to support you. I’ll never let this happen to you--to either of us--again...”

When you do wake up, Todoroki has both of his hands wrapped around one of yours, his head leaning on the headboard of your hospital bed. His siblings are long gone. When Todoroki slowly starts to wake up, he immediately feels a surge of relief, and kisses the top of your head again, tears flowing freely. This was the Todoroki you knew. The stoic exterior has broken, almost completely, as you lay there, unable to reach up and hug him back. You try to rasp something out, but your voice is shattered from your final screams of agony. 

Todoroki calms himself, pulling away briefly as he gives you a very tired, relieved smile,” ..I-It’s going to be alright...I..I’m here now, baby...”

Izuku

Full Cowlings, Detroit and Delaware Smashes... Izuku is going ham on the scene of the incident, acting as a major player on the offensive team. He knows that you are the careful type, and typically trusts your judgements. After all, you were smart and your quirk was unique. The chances of you being in trouble were slim, as long as you had back up. 

But as a villain grabbed him by his collar, and violently flung him against a building, he felt the ground beginning to shake. His eyes widened in horror as he narrowly recovered, a villain smashing violently into the compromised building. 

He heard you scream, and that was it for him. He crouched down, using as much of OFA as he could, before springing towards your voice. However, this was the perfect window, and another villain snatched him up midair, slamming him back down to the ground below. By the time he covered, the building was already in ruins. Fury surged through him, as he mustered all he could into an obliterating series of kicks and punches, knocking several villains out of his way as he nearly pole vaulted towards you. 

Izuku started moving rubble, able to identify where you fell by your wavering voice and hiccups of pain. Uraraka was quick to stop him, as his reckless actions could actually endanger you. 

Uraraka lifted the parts of the building that were crushing you, and both she and Deku turned white as snow. 

There you were, crumbled and trembling, your voice coming in heavy, wavering pants. 

“Pl...Please... don’t... don’t look, Izuku...” you pleaded, immobilized. But Deku was already lunging towards you, barking over his shoulder for help. You started blacking out by this point. All you remember were visions of heroes prying you out safely. Nurses and field staff were carrying you. Lastly, you saw flashes of desperate, green eyes, looking to you in desperation. 

“Please, Y/N! Don’t give up! Keep fighting to stay awake!”

However, despite your struggle to keep conscious, you lost the battle, and your vision faded to black. You couldn’t remember how long you slept. But occasionally, you would hear a voice or two, talking to or of you. Maybe it was the doctors... probably All Might, Izuku... all of these voices swirled in your mind as you rested, unable to rouse yourself. You were completely and utterly exhausted. 

When you did wake up, All Might stood next to you, clutching his chest in relief. You tried to speak up, but he shushes you quickly, pointing to Izuku. 

He was in the hospital bed next to you, almost as messed up as you were. Your heart dropped into your stomach, but All Might ruffled your hair, sighing. 

“I understand... your relationship with Young Midoriya. He cares a great deal about you. But, at least for his sake... you need to be careful...” he would comment, shortly after asking you how you were feeling, and what you remember. 

“Midoriya, the poor boy... he left straight for the front lines again when another building started to fall. I don’t know how he did it, but he managed to hold up almost half of the building... he saved so many people, but it ended up almost crushing him in the process. And even then... he still climbed up, and screamed that he would protect everyone.” 

All Might sat on the edge of your bed,” ...he specifically said that he would protect you, too...”

Your eyes swelled with tears, as you listened to Izuku’s mentor. You were more than familiar with Izuku pushing himself and his body to its absolute limit, but supporting an entire building... that had to take insane mental and physical strength. 

“The good news is: he will recover. Slowly, VERY slowly... but surely. The both of you are lucky to be alive. The bad news... is that you will both need pretty intensive care for about a month. But... until then, I was at least able to place him in the same room as you.” 

All Might’s cheeks flashed with a small blush, as he sighed and scratched the back of his head,” Kids these days...” he grumbles tiredly, standing up slowly

“Try and get some rest. I’m sure you’ll need it once he wakes up.”

You nod, thanking All Might for the considerate update. You reach out, and are surprised to see that your hand could just barely reach the edge of his bed. You smile sadly, tears running down your cheeks,” ...you idiot... you had to go feral again, didn’t you?”

Dabi

He knew the ins and outs of this operation, as he was familiar with these set of villains initiating the attack. Shigaraki was more than happy to make his own move, using the other attack as a distraction.

Dabi trusted that you would not be in the district, thinking that you would be wrapped up in a boring patrol or worse... paperwork. But boy, was he wrong. 

Word got to him quickly, as Toga went undercover, against Dabi’s wishes. Feigning as an innocent bystander, she saw you falling, and ultimately had thought you died. She warned Dabi not to come, and that this was what he gets for getting involved with a Pro Hero. 

Dabi did not like that. And Dabi would see to it that you would be safe from now on. 

Long after your surgery, in the middle of the night: that was when he appeared. 

Many of the staff were long gone, and it had dwindled down to the few souls on the graveyard shift. Many were so tired from the amount of patients they had, hurriedly making their rounds so they could lounge/decompress from the horrors they saw today. 

Sneaking through the roof’s entrance, Toga was more than able to snag a new disguise, blood and all. As she strolled through, dressed as one of the nurses. Meanwhile, Dabi was dressed in all black, slinking a few feet behind her with a turtleneck, coat, and shades on. 

He would duck into open rooms and corridors should anyone pass, while Toga was more than capable of keeping up her ruse. 

When they got to the Post-OP ward, it took only a few tries to find you. 

And there you were... laying so weakly, defenselessly on your hospital bed, countless machines hooked onto you. Toga would later regret not taking any of your blood for future use. 

Toga locked the door behind them as Dabi closed in on you, reaching out to you,”...Little mouse... it’s time to wake up.” 

Your eyelids flutter as a new voice invades your senses, before a cool hand presses to your forehead. You feel Dabi’s hand brush your hair away from your face, before you slam your eyes open. 

You practically seize at the sight of him before you, unable to move. You trembled softly, a cautious smile stretching across your lips,” D....Dabi... you can’t... h-how... did you--”

Dabi is swift to cut you off, leaning down to where his lips could almost brush against your oxygen mask. 

“That’s something we can discuss later... I have a bone to pick with you, little mouse...” You winced as Dabi’s hand slams against the bed, nearly colliding with you head as you stare back up at Dabi anxiously. 

“Do you know... why I’m here?” Dabi asks you calmly, causing you to flush ever so slightly. “I-Is it... because I got hurt...?”

Dabi sighs exasperatedly, looking back to you,” If it were a minor injury, I wouldn’t have bothered... but that little stunt you pulled today almost had you killed,” Dabi practically growls, leaving your heart hammering in your chest. You glance away, unable to deny this. 

“I-I know... I... wasn’t thinking clearly. I promise, next time, I won’t--”

“Next time?” Dabi mocks, his brows furrowing. He smirks, a low chuckle erupting in his chest,” Little mouse, there will be no ‘next time’...” 

You blink with confusion as Dabi leans closer, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear,” ...as soon as you’re recovered... as soon as you get out of this god forsaken place... you’re coming with me. And you will never. Ever. Leave my side again.” 

You try to protest as you feel his hot breath against your ear, trembling. It would be even more dangerous to stay with him. A Pro Hero and a villain being in a relationship secretly is one thing... but between all of the times that you or him covered for one another, leaked confidential information, or... been in the same bed... you would both be done for if word got out. 

“...Toga-kun here... is willing to bust you out with me... You will not be forced to join The League. But we will house you, while you go on a permanent Hero’s Hiatus. You will take the time you need to recover. And you will NOT. Leave the base... unless I say so... because I can’t trust you to act with your best judgement safely.” Dabi laughs, but his laughter quickly died to a weak chuckle,” ...don’t you get it...? I nearly lost you again today.” 

Dabi’s voice wavers momentarily, before his eyes hardened again. You shrink under his gaze, as his eyes burrow into yours,” ...and I’m not going to risk losing you again. Even if I have to take matters into my own hands... and force you to be an obedient, careful little pet...”

You shudder at his words, wincing in pain shortly after. Dabi’s expression softens for a moment, as he removes the mask covering your face momentarily. 

He leans down, placing a chaste kiss to your lips, before slowly pulling away. You swore that Dabi’s eyes were glassy. But before you could call him out on this, Dabi let go of your face mask. It reconnects with your face suddenly, stinging as it violently settles back in place. 

Dabi smiles, the snap of the elastic amusing him. You looked disgruntled, and he wouldn’t mind seeing you that way more. 

“...I’ll be back for you soon, babe... so make sure... that you take extra care while I’m gone.” Dabi rumbles lowly, pinching your cheek before standing upright. Toga gives him a nod, telling him that the coast is clear. And just like that, Dabi and Toga slip out without a trace, leaving your mind spinning and your chest heaving.

(Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed! <3)

[tenthgrove]

L'inizio- A La Squadra Backstory Collection

Chapter 3: Due Cuori (Sorbet & Gelato Part 1)

Word Count: ~3800

Warnings: parental abandonment, homelessness, mildly-suggestive behaviour

The young boy sobs into the bag he’s carrying as he flees down the dark, damp street. The quick-paced footsteps of his pursuer sound loudly as they smack against the wet concrete. The boy prays for some rain to cover the sounds of his panting and running, but he knows such luck will not be afforded to him.

He is out of his depth in this part of Naples. Not yet 14, he’s one of many such young fools who thought it would be easy to snatch a little money from one of the smaller street gangs that roam this part of the town, making the crucial mistake of thinking ‘smaller’ was synonymous with less relentless. The boy has barely a moment to comprehend the dead end ahead of him before he is knocked sharply around the back of his head and sent reeling to the floor.

“Where the hell is my money, you shit?!” the angered man interrogates him sharply. He rears a clenched fist ready to strike him again, and the boy cowers against the wall.

“It’s there! Right there!” he shrieks desperately, pointing at the back dropped at his side. The man spits. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a gun. “I swear Signor! The money’s there!” the boy pleads, his voice hitching in mortal terror. The man scoffs venomously.

“Yeah, I heard.”

Two shots ring out, but they aren’t aimed at the boy. The man’s blood splashes over him as he chokes on it, falling to the ground without a word. The boy counts two wounds on the man’s back.

The figure at the end of the alleyway lowers his gun and begins to approach. He is somewhere on the boundary between boyhood and manhood, perhaps about 18, at a first guess. He is darkly dressed, with hair to match, and he returns his weapon to his pocket with a detached smoothness that suggests great experience with the murderous act. He leans over the boy and picks up his bag, smiling in satisfaction at the wad of cash crudely jammed inside. He zips the bag up and hauls it over his shoulder.

“Grazie,” he thanks him, turning away and beginning his journey back down the alleyway.

He does not walk far before he reaches his destination- a small house in a densely packed row just a street away. He knocks calmly, and the door soon opens.

“Ah, Sorbet,” the responder answers. “I thought I’d heard gunfire.”

“’Evening Gabriele,” he greets him, sorting off some of the money in his hands. “20,000 lire says I can stay the night.”

“Can’t argue with that,” Gabriele agrees with a small chuckle. “Come right in, friend.”

Sorbet removes his jacket and seats himself down on the sofa, shuffling the bag protectively behind his legs. He takes off his own bag as well and pilfers through to find the chewing gum he’s been saving for this evening.

“May I ask how you still haven’t found a place of your own? Surely you must be rolling in it from all that blood money you’ve got lately. Hell,” he remarks, eyeing the money poking out from behind Sorbet’s lap. “You could probably sort yourself out for a couple months on that alone.”

“You can certainly ask,” Sorbet answers apathetically.

“Well?”

Sorbet looks at him contemplatively before deciding he’s in the mood for compliance tonight. He leans back.

“To put it simply I’ve just been out of it too long. ‘Don’t have my birth certificate, ‘don’t have any documents of that sort. I left home at 14 and frankly I’d be shocked if I wasn’t legally dead by now. Well, assuming my mum was ever lucid enough to do the paperwork, that is.”

“You could rent a flat from the gang. They’d hardly say no to you,” Gabriele suggests.

“Not really a fan of that sort of obligation, Gabe,” Sorbet refutes him. “Besides, the quote on quote ‘buildings’ the gang owns get busted by the cops all the time. I hardly wanna deal with that at 1 in the morning.”

“True,” Gabriele snorts. A knock sounds at the door. “Who the fuck at this time of night?” he gripes.

“No idea, but have fun with them,” Sorbet says, getting to his feet. “I’m off to help myself to your shower,” he announces, departing up the stairs. Gabriele answers the door.

“H-Hello,” the newcomer greets. It’s another teenager, with messy blond hair and a sky of freckles. He shivers into his thin jacket, hand red-raw from clutching his heavy bag. “Are you Gabriele?” he asks.

“Who’s asking?” Gabriele says with scrutiny.

“My name is Gelato, sir. You don’t know me, but I know a friend of yours from Florence, well, small village outside of Florence, I’m sure you know which one I mean. I heard from him you wanted to get someone to do errands for you and well, I was wondering if I could do that for you,” the boy offers. There’s a wild look in his desperate green eyes, and Gabriele knows this won’t end quickly for him.

“Kid, that was weeks ago! What the hell took you so long?” he asks.

“It’s not my fault I had to walk here!” Gelato protests. “Look, I got kicked out by my parents, I’m only 17 and if you don’t help me I’ll have nowhere to go!” he pleads.

“That’s rough and all, but the job’s closed. Go find a shelter or something.”

“PLEASE!” Gelato begs. He’s trembling, but there’s a touch of anger in his eyes as he glares at him that makes Gabriele mildly scared to turn him down.

“Look, I have neither the need nor the money for another errand boy right now. But, now I think of it I do know a guy who needs someone to manage a bar for him. Make no mistake, it’s nothing more than a meet-up spot for the gang so don’t expect anything fancy, but I think it has a flat upstairs. Maybe you can ask to move into the place as your pay.”

“A bar? That’s perfect!” Gelato enthuses. “Thank you thank you so much!”

“Yeah, yeah, okay, I’m happy for you. Now If I go give the guy a call will you please piss off?” Gabriele entreats him.

“Anything you say sir! Thank you!” Gelato agrees. Gabriele heads for his phone with a sigh.

::::::::::::

An hour later, Gelato finds himself in the staff-only section of what was once a fully functioning bar.

“Look kid, it’s not hard stuff,” his guide tells him. “Just keep ‘em drunk enough they can’t kill each other and ring me up if you hear any talk the boss ought to here,” he explains.

“Yes sir, I will,” Gelato answers dutifully. The man opens a rickety door leading to a thin, steep staircase. Gelato follows him up.

“And, this is the flat you were so eager about,” the man announces, looking over the dark, dust-filled space of the bare-bones apartment. There’s a frightful stain on the sofa, and one of the kitchen cabinet doors is hanging on one hinge. “Consider yourself lucky I’m letting you have it when I could be giving it to someone who pays. Don’t expect a penny more from me, this is your full payment,” he continues.

“But how will I eat?” Gelato protests.

“I guess you better hope they tip you good,” the man answers apathetically. “Look, if you do a good job and don’t piss me off, maybe I can spare a few thousand lire a night later on, but until then, you’re getting no more help from me,” he maintains. “Maybe you should learn to pickpocket. ‘Useful skill to have around here.”

Gelato growls inwardly. Of course he knows how to pickpocket! Well- how to pickpocket 13 year olds outside a school gate. Grown men might be a different matter, but he’ll figure it out. Getting caught can’t be much worse than what happened when his parents found out.

“Alright. Thanks,” Gelato forces himself to say. The man gives a satisfied nod and exits.

“Make sure you know where everything is before you open at 9,” he says.

Gelato seeks out the bedroom and lies down, not caring how musty the frayed sheets smell. He grabs the pillow and hugs it close to him like a stuffed toy. It occurs to him that he’s scared.

::::::::::::

It takes him a month to accept his parents aren’t taking him back, two to stop fucking up every day of his life and three to feel some sense of normalcy in his new life at the bar. That’s not to say he’s happy, by any means, simply that he holds onto his current existence with a vice-grip, for fear that things could only get worse if he shook the boat too much.

He sleeps until noon, usually, leaves the house as soon as he’s awake enough to do so and just walks. Anywhere. Sometimes he tries to pickpocket but ever since that beating he earned from a poorly chosen victim, he saves it for his most desperate days. After lunch, if he has any, he sometimes goes to the library. He was never much of a scholar and rarely reads, but he finds the place more pleasant to dissociate in than his apartment.

Should he feel like treating himself, he occasionally visits the arcade when he has the change to spare. After it became clear letting him waste away was not in the landlord’s best interests if he wanted his bar to stay running, he began to help a little with food costs but nowhere near enough for such frivolous outings to be frequently affordable.

Around 3pm, Gelato goes home and sleeps until his hunger forces him to get up and eat. He likes to make a start early on setting up the bar, and cleaning it from the messes of its previous nights patrons, so he tries to begin by 7. It opens at 9 and closes at 2, after which Gelato will shower, and spend a short stretch of time watching the old, boxy TV he pulled out of the attic in bed, before sleeping.

As he exits the cellar, he receives a few apathetic glances from some of the patrons but ultimately nothing much. His eyes are on the far corner of the bar where, to perhaps less of his concern than it should be, two men are engaged in a heated argument. It’s a sight he’s well used to now, but he keeps a keen watch on the men, since the landlord insisted he de-escalate anything that looks like it may prove fatal.

“I don’t care what your excuses are! We had a deal and you’re going to fucking pay me!” The first man shouts. He is one of the younger ones, probably little older than Gelato but with an air of authority more akin to some of the older individuals in the mob. He has heard whispers about this man- his name is Sorbet and he is an enforcer. The mobsters are cautious about the word ‘assassin’, it makes them sound like a more ambitious group than they truly are, one that could be deemed a threat by the larger syndicates that truly control this city. Yet, Gelato reads between the lines when they talk about the things Sorbet has done. As Gelato approaches Sorbet’s eyes flick towards him momentarily. Gelato shies away from the eye contact and feels an odd feeling inside him. Seeing Sorbet always makes him feel odd. He doesn’t dare speak to him directly.

“Whatever. It ain’t on me if you misread what we were talking about. You did me a favour, nothing more,” the second man retorts. He’s another regular, as familiar to Gelato, if not more, than Sorbet is, even if he doesn’t know him by name. He is a cruel man, impatient and aggressive whenever he visits. Gelato always tremors a little when he comes through the door.

Still, he scares him less than Sorbet.

Gelato forces a smile as he approaches the second man.

“Pardon me, could I get you any more-” he inhales sharply as the half-full bottle of wine is chucked over him.

“Yes, one more of these,” the man orders coldly. Gelato wipes his eyes.

“Right away,” he nods, turning back towards the cellar and fighting every fibre of his being telling him not to let this slide.

Gelato descends into the cellar, shaking from the cold of his wet clothes and anger. As he pulls a new bottle off the shelf he wonders briefly if he ought to piss in it, but decides the best result that could come of that is having it thrown over him again. He pats down his shirt and takes the bottle back up to the bar.

He knows what has happened before the door is even open. The sound of shouting is familiar to him, and if the past few minutes is anything to go by, it’s Sorbet and that petulant man’s feud which has turned violent. Opening the door proves his theory, as a small crowd has formed around Sorbet and his opponent as they engage in a relentless match of fists.

Gelato debates to himself. He could put down the bottle and run, he could try and calm the men down and risk one or both of them turning their anger on him, or he could use this opportunity to finally get back at that bastard’s disrespect. Gelato’s never been much of a thinking sort. His mind doesn’t take long to settle on the third option. He rears the bottle above his head and charges.

There’s a collective gasp of shock as Gelato suddenly crashes into the man, smashing the bottle over the back of his skull with full strength. It shatters, and the man falls to the floor with a groan. Gelato looks up at Sorbet, briefly fearing his interference may have provoked anger but, Sorbet only smiles.

Gelato rushes to his feet just in time to join his new ally in kicking the man, again and again until he starts to spit blood. Gelato picks up the remains of the bottle’s base and pours out the remaining liquid onto his enemy’s face in one, final insult. The crowd cheers. Evidently this man was not so popular with the gang after all.

Gelato sits down, whoozy from exhaustion and adrenaline. He finds himself laughing. He cannot recall the last time he’s done that. Sorbet leans down and pulls a stack of cash from the unconscious man’s pocket.

“Lying bastard,” he scoffs. “He did have the money. Probably a lot more than I asked for, but I can hardly complain about that.” Sorbet turns to Gelato with a look of deliberation. He pulls out one of the 50,000 lire bills and hands it to him with a smile.

“For your trouble,” he declares. He withdraws his hand with a slow deliberateness, their fingertips touching for just the briefest of seconds. The odd feeling Gelato has felt since laying eyes on Sorbet returns with a vengeance, and yet, Gelato can feel nothing but awe as it begins to eat his heart.

Oh dear. Gelato might have a crush.

::::::::::::

It is three days later to the hour, that Gelato finds himself hauled into the cellar and pinned against the wall, mouth agape in shock as Sorbet digs his fingers into his neck. It occurs to Gelato he might have gone about this the wrong way.

“Alright, spit it out,” Sorbet demands. “What the hell was that up there?”

“Pardon?” Gelato pleads fearfully.

“Did you think I would let you get away with mocking me like that?” Sorbet asks through gritted teeth. Gelato’s mind turns to the myriad of weapons no doubt hidden in Sorbet’s clothes. That thought shouldn’t endear him as much as it does.

“Mocking?”

“Oh? Is there another explanation for why you would behave like that around me? Humiliate me in front of half my gang? Well?!” Sorbet entreats him. His grip around his neck tightens

“Flirting! It was flirting!” Gelato confesses desperately. Sorbet’s grip lessens.

“What?”

“Look. I think I like guys, you like guys or at least everyone says you do. And- I think I might like you a lot so- I wanted your attention. I wanted to talk to you again,” Gelato admits sheepishly. His cheeks start to burn, and it isn’t from the lack of oxygen any more.

Sorbet looks like something in his brain must have just blown a fuse. Perhaps Gelato should take this opportunity to run, since this half-assed attempt at seduction is clearly a resounding failure.

But then Sorbet starts to laugh. It’s a low, quiet laugh but nonetheless genuine as he fixes his eyes warmly on the floor.

“Oh you dear thing. That isnot how this works,” he says. Gelato breathes out in relief, as well as a little disappointment.

“Yeah, I’m sorry. This was stupid I should- probably just go back to my work,” he apologises. His body goes still as Sorbet touches a hand to his cheek.

“Though if you ever want my attention again,” he leans in and presses his lips lightly against Gelato’s. “You should just ask.”

Sorbet lets out a little hum of amusement at the sight of Gelato’s shock. He caresses his face once more, touching his finger to a little curl of hair as he does so, before finally freeing Gelato from his hold.

“See you later,” he promises, before leaving him alone in the cellar. Above him, Gelato hears Sorbet walk out in the direction of the front door. Gelato collects himself, and calmly wanders over to the sink, waiting patiently for it to fill with water.

He sticks his head in and screams.

::::::::::::

Sorbet visits the bar twice weekly, no different from before. But he starts visiting Gelato more often. Barely a week from their first kiss, they are in bed together, Gelato clinging onto his new love tightly as he reads. This touch is alien to him and in spite of his joy, he cannot help but quiver as Sorbet pets his hair. He wonders how he ever lived his life without knowing joy this strong.

Their second week is easier. They both start to become accustomed to this newfound love and no longer think of each other as strangers. Gelato knows Sorbet’s full name now, he knows which street he grew up on and the names and ages of each of his siblings. Sorbet knows what Gelato’s parents did for a living. He knows the name of the boy he had his first real fight with, and the therapist who tried and failed to relieve him of the ‘learning disabilities’ that made his parents despise him so deeply. Sorbet tries to at least drop in on most days, but when he can’t, he calls Gelato to tell him where he’s staying for the night. Gelato thinks of him as he falls asleep, hugging his pillow close.

By week three, the pair have found a new normal together. Sorbet sleeps over more often than not, and the bar patrons now know full well not to cause Gelato trouble when Sorbet is in the building. Sorbet has made every aspect of Gelato’s life more enjoyable, and he can see in Sorbet’s eyes that the feeling goes both ways. Gelato knows why Sorbet left home four years ago, and Sorbet knows how Gelato really wants to get revenge of his parents for abandoning him. On precisely day 19 of their affair, Gelato asked Sorbet if he planned to keep doing this with him forever. Sorbet did not hesitate in saying yes.

It’s a few days later that Sorbet comes to the bar with an especially warm smile on his usually cold face. Gelato thought little of putting down his current orders to rush over and greet him at the door.

“Sorbet, you’re here early!” Gelato enthuses. Sorbet pecks his cheek.

“I thought we might spend a night to ourselves. I think you need it, Caro.”

“But Sorbet, the bar doesn’t close for three more hours yet!” Gelato reminds him.

“Not if I can help it.”

Sorbet raises his gun and fires it twice at the ceiling. The patrons look up in fear. “Alright, everyone out. Bar’s closed,” he announces. The patrons sheepishly get to their feet and file out.

“But, the landlord!” Gelato protests.

“Fuck the landlord. If he has a problem with this, he goes through me,” Sorbet maintains. Gelato’s breath escapes him with a laugh and he follows him upstairs.

“Really, tell me,” Gelato insists light-heartedly. “What’s brought this on?” He turns around and his face falls to see that Sorbet is looking saddened.

“I- saw my siblings today,” he announces.

“Are they… okay?” Gelato asks worriedly.

“Oh, they��re fine. I saw them down at the cafe, they didn’t notice me. Taking a look at the other ones, I’m assuming the older ones are getting better at taking care of them. It makes sense, given the ages they’re getting to. The issue is… there was another baby, this time, who wasn’t there before,” Sorbet reveals. “Probably just a month or so old, from the looks of her.”

“Sorbet…”

“My sister,” Sorbet says, bringing his head into his hands. “And I don’t even know her name!”

“Sorbet,” Gelato says, taking his head in his own hands. “It isn’t your fault the way your mother is. Looking after them isn’t your responsibility.”

“It was,” Sorbet reminds him. “Then I left.”

“Look, I’m sure they’re fine,” Gelato reiterates. “Believe me when I say there are many worse things older siblings can do than just not look after you. Now,” he begins. “How about that night we were going to have together,” he smiles.

“Right,” Sorbet recalls, pecking him on the nose. “It’s you I came to see.”

Sorbet leans forward and kisses him deeply. Gelato, so recently a stranger to the sensation, leans in further to the kiss, pawing teasingly at Sorbet’s chest to urge him on. Sorbet groans to the kiss, hooking a hand around Gelato’s collar. Downstairs, something crashes loudly.

Sorbet pulls back. He sees Gelato’s eyes widen in fear as a parade of footsteps stumble into the building. Sorbet presses a kiss to his cheek reassuringly.

“Stay calm,” he urges him. “Not a sound.”

Sorbet stands up and, watching his feet on the old floorboards, moves over to the window to peer outside.

“Shit!” he exclaims, ducking away out of view.

“What is it?” Gelato whispers.

“The police. Two cars.”

“Are they here for us?” Gelato asks, voice hitching in fear. Sorbet shakes his head quickly.

“Unlikely. They most likely thought the place was empty. If we are quick, we can still leave without them seeing us,” he promises. Gelato shrinks back.

“I’m scared,” he admits. Sorbet takes his hand in his.

“Just stay with me okay? I’ll protect you.”

[kirishibi]

Nights Like These | Kirishima Ejirou

Summary: You’re having a rough night struggling with your anxiety and your long time crush, Kirishima, helps you through it

Pairing: Kirishima Ejirou x Reader

Warnings: pretty vivid and possibly triggering descriptions of the physical symptoms and racing thoughts that come with an anxiety attack, non-established relationship, pining, lots of Kiri comfort, so much fluff, very very mild cursing, spoilers abt Kirishima’s backstory, (y/n)’s pretty shy in this one oops

**this fic has a lottt of comfort and fluff in it after the first quarter, but if descriptions of anxiety are triggering for you please read with caution and skip over bits if needed**

Word Count: 2.8k

a/n: chef actually writing for once??? unheard of. anyway, i was struggling really hard this week, so i wrote some kiri comfort because who doesn’t want this sweet boi to hold ur hand and tell you everything’s gonna be okay when it feels like the world’s falling apart.i legit wrote this while crying bruv if any one of my fics is a window to my soul its this one

It began with that all-too-familiar pit of dread in your stomach, an uncomfortable rush of adrenaline in your upper chest that you desperately tried to force away. Trembling fingertips, wobbling knees, the sudden urge to crawl out of your own skin. All you did was get tongue-tied while chatting with Bakugou and a few of his friends, but your fumbled words wouldn’t stop echoing through your skull, the angry blond’s mocking gaze replaying over and over again in your mind.

You barely made it to your dorm before shards of your shattered confidence gathered to form a lump in your throat, and tears stung at the corners of your eyes. You threw open the door to your room, hastily swung it shut as you entered. As heavy wood slammed into its frame, a jarring bang echoed throughout the hallway outside. You physically cringed, brows knitting together and nose scrunching in disgust at your own actions. 

Damn it, you thought to yourself, everyone heard that, and now they’re all pissed at you. 

This happened more times than you could count: one minor mistake drudged up what seemed like hundreds of embarrassing memories from your past, and in a matter of minutes you knew you’d wind up a sobbing mess on your bedroom floor, gasping for air, convinced that the only thing you’re truly good at is being a burden.

There was a dam inside your mind; one that held all of your regrets, self-loathing thoughts, and most embarrassing memories. The multitude of cracks in its foundation threatened to give with every little thing you deemed a screw-up, and in that moment, the dam broke.

A half-complete exam sat before you. Your left leg nervously bounced beneath your desk as a pencil twirled between the nimble fingers of your dominant hand. The eraser of your pencil caught on the surface of your desk mid-twirl, causing the utensil to fling from your grasp. It arched through the air and thumped the boy seated in front of you, Ojiro, right between his shoulder blades. No amount of rambled apologies from you, nor sincere ’it’s okay!’s from the kind-hearted blond could stop that moment from searing itself into your memory. Just another reason you should never leave your room again.

Sinking into an unmade bed, you pulled your knees up to your chest. Feeble arms hugged your legs tightly as you desperately tried to shake the unpleasant thoughts from your own brain. “No,” you pleaded with yourself, “no, (Y/n), you’re not doing this again.” Fingernails dug into soft flesh beneath your school uniform’s knee-high socks, a momentary distraction from the sheer panic swelling inside your chest. Forehead pressed against bent knees, you hoped that if you made yourself small enough, maybe you could disappear entirely. 

Accidentally interrupting someone during a conversation, tripping over your own feet while walking down the hall, getting anxious speaking to your redheaded crush and forgetting what you wanted to say altogether.

You couldn’t help but gasp for air, the angry burning of your lungs only worsening with every shallow breath as hot tears trailed down the sides of your face. There was no stopping the sobs that pushed past your lips, nor the self loathing thoughts that racked your brain. You pressed your back firmly against the cool drywall beside your bed with the vain hope that the sudden chill may keep you grounded.

Nearly spitting out your tea as Kaminari cracked a joke during lunch, not realizing you took someone else’s seat in the common room, bumping into an elderly woman on the train, dropping a handful of textbooks in front of your entire class.

A knock on the door momentarily pulled you from what seemed to be an inescapable frenzy of thoughts. You stumbled to your feet, stole a glance in the mirror beside your bed. Reluctant to allow someone else to see your puffy, red eyes and tear-stained cheeks, you forced yourself to speak up, “uh- uhm,” your voice wavered with every word, but you cleared your throat and continued on, “I-I’m sorry, now isn’t really a good time.”

“Aw,” a familiar voice pouted from the other side, muffled by the wall between you, “well, think ya could let me in anyway?” It was Kirishima, the guy you’d been head-over-heels for since the beginning of your freshman year. 

You refused to let him see you so disheveled, couldn’t bear the thought of willingly adding another embarrassing moment to your catalogue of painful memories. 

“I’m sorry, I- well,” you wanted to lie, to make up an excuse as to why you couldn’t answer the door, but nothing came to mind. “I just can’t talk right now. Do you need something?”

“Yep! It’s really urgent, can’t wait another second!” He eagerly pleaded, and you just couldn’t find the will to say no.

Hastily drying your wet face with creased sleeves and fixing your hair to the best of your ability, you made your way to the door and cautiously inched it open. 

The crimson haired boy stood before you with a box of your favorite candy in his hands and a warm smile on his face. His brows were knit together in concern, tender eyes wholly trained on you. He glanced both ways down the vacant hallway to ensure that no one was within earshot before speaking in a hushed tone, “you didn’t seem like yourself in class today. Like, you were quieter than usual, and then Bakugou was a bit of an ass earlier...“ He nodded to the cardboard container in his hands, “I’ve seen you eat this before and it always seems to put a smile on your face, so I thought maybe it could do the same today too.” His grin faltered for a moment, gaze dropping to the floor as if embarrassed by his own words. “It’s stupid, I know, but I had to do somethin’!”

Despite your best efforts, the happy facade you’d forced on for Kirishima fell, and your eyes welled with tears once again. Your bottom lip trembled as you tried to swallow the lump crawling up your throat. His gaze shifted from the floor, back up to meet yours, and he nearly dropped the container in his hands at the sight of you so close to crying. 

Without a second thought, he threw his arms around your shoulders in a tight hug, “What’s wrong, (Y/n)?” His voice filled with worry, further breaking your heart, “Did I get the wrong kind of candy?”

“N-no,” you whimpered into his shoulder, unable to finish before the words caught in your mouth and tears wet the thin cotton of his shirt . Your arms wrapped around his waist, unconsciously reciprocating his hug. His warmth reminded you of just how long it had been since you’d let someone be so close. Your knees buckled under the weight of your own grief, and before you knew it, Kirishima was scooping you up into his strong arms. He carried you to the comfort of your bed, kicking the door closed as he passed.

“I knew you weren’t okay,” he muttered into your ear, tone much softer than you were used to from the boisterous man. He carefully set you down on your plush mattress, grabbed the nearest blanket and wrapped it around your shoulders, then knelt on the floor before you.

“I’m f-fine,” you forced out, trying to steady your voice but failing horribly, “You can go if you wa-want. I don't want to-”

Kirishima silenced you with a tender palm rested atop your own. “I’m not leaving you, (Y/n). Whatever’s going on, I care about you too much to make you deal with it alone.”

Up until then, you had made it a point to keep your anxiety hidden from your peers. You worried that they would treat you differently if they knew, that they wouldn’t quite understand. But, something about Kirishima told you that he was different, that nothing would change if you opened up to him. Regardless of your fears, the look in his eyes and tender cadence of his voice made you feel safe, like it was okay to be vulnerable.

“I,” your eyes flicked from your lap to meet his worried gaze, “I can’t help but remember everything I’ve done wrong over the years and just hate myself. I hate every mistake, every failure, every moment I did something dumb and didn’t know how to fix it.” Your stomach clenched as yet another sob forced its way past your lips. “I have so many regrets, and I constantly feel like an awful person because of them.”

A calloused thumb brushed along your upper cheek, wiping away the tracks of fallen tears. He nodded along as you vented, as if he understood exactly where you were coming from. Then, when you went silent, he waited for a few beats to ensure you were entirely finished speaking before responding. “I’m sure it doesn’t seem like it, but I used to be someone I’m not proud of either, and, honestly? Sometimes I still don’t like the person I see in the mirror.” He paused for a moment, lips pulled in a thin, contemplative line before continuing, “can you keep a secret?”

You nodded, surprised and mildly confused by his words. Could someone as confident and lovable as Kirishima really struggle with the same anxieties that you did?

He chuckled at the quizzical look you gave him, took a deep breath to steady his own nerves. “So, I actually didn’t look like this back in middle school -- hold up, I think I actually have a picture.” Five fingers flexed around your own, holding you close as his free hand fished into his pants pocket and pulled out a red-cased phone. Within a few seconds, ruby eyes were locked with your own once again, a shy smile pulling at the corners of his lips. “Promise not to laugh?”

The redhead’s grin was infectious, and you couldn’t help but smile with him. Your worries hadn’t been entirely forgotten, but with every word spoken between you, every passing second with his fingers entwined with your own, a subtle calm began to wash over you. “I’ll try not to,” you responded. That seemed good enough for him, and with only a short moment of hesitation, Kirishima turned the phone’s screen toward you to reveal a photo of himself from a few years before. 

Long, black hair framed a round face, slender shoulders slumped and eyes downcast as he stood alone in the courtyard of what you assumed to be his old middle school. Your head cocked to the side, brows furrowed in disbelief as you looked from the photo to the person in front of you. For a moment, you thought he must have been kidding. The muscular, seemingly self-assured man that knelt before you didn’t resemble the boy on his phone in the slightest. “You’re serious? That was you?” 

He nodded, clearly amused by your reaction. You wanted to ask what changed, how he pulled such a total one-eighty, but couldn’t find a way to without sounding rude.

He seemed to read your mind, though, and answered your question without hesitation. “I realized that I didn’t like the person I was, and vowed to be better.” He powered off the device in his hand and tossed it aside, attention entirely back to you, thumb unconsciously caressing the back of your hand as he continued. “I’m not telling you this because I think you need to change. Frankly,” his eyes darted to the floor, voice lowering nearly to a whisper, “I, uh, I really like the person you are now.” He cleared his throat, a pink tinge dusting his cheeks as his gaze flicked back up to meet yours. “I’m telling you this because, like I said before, I’m like you in a way. I can’t help but cringe when I remember the way I used to be, and I still worry sometimes that I haven’t actually changed that much.”

“But you have. I mean, you’re a completely different person now.”

“Exactly. Here’s what I’ve learned: if you cringe at something you did in the past, that’s probably because you’ve matured enough to know you were being dumb back then. Being able to look at your past self and recognize your mistakes means you aren’t that person anymore.” His other hand moved to rest atop your knee, as if he wanted to hold you closer but found himself hesitant.

You felt a weight lift from your shoulders at his words, yet still one question continued to gnaw at the back of your mind. “But, what if I’m beating myself up something I did recently… like,” your voice lowered in embarrassment, “when I a-accidentally threw that pencil at Ojiro, for example…”

“I promise, you’re the only one who even remembers that.” Kirishima chuckled softly, “you’re sweet for worrying about those little things, but no one worth knowing is gonna judge you off small mistakes. I know how great you are, and so does everyone else in our class. You light up every room you walk into, I swear. It’s like you’ve got a second quirk or somethin’.” You giggled, and his smile only grew wider. “I mean it! How could anyone not fall in love with that laugh?” The boy’s face turned bright red, eyes widening in realization at what he had said, grip tightening around your own. “Shit, I mean- well-” he cut himself off, sharp teeth nervously nibbling on his bottom lip.

His words resonated with you, filled the anxious pit in your stomach with warm butterflies and heated your cheeks with a rosey blush. Still, you convinced yourself he was only embarrassed because his words had come out in a different way than he had meant them. There was no way he actually had feelings for you, you thought. He was clearly just being nice. “I-It’s okay, I know you don’t like me like that. You’re way out of my league, anyway.” You forced a nervous laugh, attempting to comfort him through words that burned as they passed your lips.

You thought he’d relax at what you had said, agree with your comment, and thank you for understanding. Instead, he rose to his feet, a look of bewilderment in his eyes as he pulled you up to stand with him. “Do you really think that?” He questioned, expression twisted in disbelief, hurt by your self-deprecating words. His hands gripped yours tightly as you stood only inches from one another. Heat radiated off of his tan skin, shielding you from the chilly air of your room and prickling your arms with goosebumps.

“Sorry to break it to ya, but you couldn’t be more wrong.” Kirishima lightly tugged you closer, closed the distance between your bodies without a second thought. You allowed your chest to press against his, listening carefully as he continued, “I was afraid of making you uncomfortable or scaring you off, so I didn’t say anything before. But, if that’s really what you think, I’ve gotta set you straight. Truth is, I’m absolutely crazy for you, (Y/n). I mean, you’re cute, and sweet, and witty -- It’s impossible to take my eyes off of you whenever we’re in a room together, and just hearing your voice makes me feel warm all over.”

Calloused fingers released one of your hands, traveled up to caress a now-dry cheek. He cracked another sharp-toothed grin at the realization that you were no longer crying. “Can you do me a favor and tell me next time you start to feel all anxious and stuff again? Regardless of if you like me back, I just want to be there for you, whatever you need. It’s not very manly to fall for a girl, then leave her hangin’ when she needs ya the most.”

An eager nod in agreement was all you could manage for a long moment as you stood entirely awestruck by his confession. All you wanted was to find your voice, to tell him how much his efforts meant to you, but the words refused to come. 

So, you did the next best thing.

The box of candies he had brought as a pick-me-up laid forgotten on your bed as tentative fingers gripped Kirishima’s broad shoulders and you rose onto your tiptoes. Without allowing yourself time for hesitation, you pressed pursed lips to a flushed-pink cheek. It wasn’t a large gesture, but in that moment it felt perfect. 

You’d never seen Ejirou smile as wide as he did in that moment, strong hands firmly gripping your waist as you pulled away -- as if to make sure that you wouldn’t stray too far from his grasp. “That settles it then! Tomorrow I’m asking you out properly -- with flowers, and chocolates, and way more than just one box of your favorite sweets… but you gotta promise me one thing.”

“What’s that?” 

“That we’ll take care of one another. I’ll never judge you, hurt you, or belittle whatever you’re struggling with, as long as you promise the same to me, okay? From now on ‘til the end of time, I’ve got your back unconditionally, and you’ve got mine. Promise?”

“Promise.”

[markwrecksmysoul]

Got7 reaction to getting teased by the group members the morning “after”

Jaebum

The morning light nearly blinded you as you slowly opened your eyes still groggy it was to be expected considering the very long night you had. A deep vibrating sigh reached your ears from the man lying next to you. You smiled and looked at his face. So peaceful, his bare shoulders peaked out from underneath the covers and you let your eyes wander his features. It was a perfect night and this was a perfect morning. Jaebum grunted his hands coming up to rub the sleep out of his eyes.

“G’morning”. You leaned in planting a short kiss on his forehead. “Morning”. All was well, until you heard his bedroom door open. The last face you needed to see popped in.

“Ayeeeeeeee there’s the loud couple! You have fun?” Jaebum groaned. And you squeaked hiding your body underneath the sheet.

“Jackson! Get out!” Jaebum yelled tossing a throw pillow at him. Jacksons laugh rang through the hall as he ran out to dodge the hit.

“Haha! Be a little quieter next time and I will!”

Youngjae

You chomped down on your lip watching as youngjae tugged his pants up, buttoning them. Your eyes traced every curve, dip, and nook of his toned torso. Your fingers itched to touch him again. Last night the two of you had finally had sex, and to put it mildly you weren’t disappointed with his performance. You could’ve woken the dead last night.

You finally rolled out of his bed yourself and put on your own clothes to grab some well earned breakfast. You both walked out into the living area hand in hand grinning like two crazed lovers. You were surprised to see the entirety of Youngjae’s roommates already sitting out there as if they were waiting.

Bambam spoke up first. “Did you two have fun last night?” Immediate embarrassment washed over you. So you really were loud.

Youngjae snickered , “sorry we got a little....carried away, did we wake you?”

Jinyoung grumbled, “wake me! I’ll show y-“. Before jinyoung could launch himself at the two of you mark held him back.

Youngjae who was red in the face at this point held back a laugh and formerly bowed to them.

“Sorry we’ll be more quiet next time”.

Jinyoung

“No I don’t wanna go out there baby what if they confront us?”

You said the butterflies manifesting into bats inside your stomach.

The feeling was due to sheer embarrassment and possibly the after effects of you and Jinyoung going at it particularly hard last night. You could hardly walk let alone endure a teasing from the boys this morning. You knew damn well you were loud . Very loud.

But jinyoung was having none of your skittish behavior this morning. “They won’t come on let’s go out there”.

Against your pleadings he dragged you out and your legs could barely hold you up let alone resist the strong tug. You stumbled after him. Mark, bambam and Jackson sat in the living room watching some random morning show. They abandoned the show to see the two of you come in. Mark blushed hard and cleared his throat. But Jackson and Bambam grinned at one another and at the same time shouted the most embarrassing thing you could hear.

“OH GOD JINYOUNG”.

Your jaw dropped and marks eyes widened. Before jinyoung could say anything you had already launched the tv remote at their heads. And jinyoung could only watch as you hunted the two trouble makers down and whacked them senseless with the couch cushions.

Yugyeom

Last night you had seen a different side to yugyeom he was nothing like the sleeping angel lying next to you now the morning after. You grinned your entire body still throbbing like an exposed nerve from all the attention you’d received. Yugyeom didn’t let up even as you were screaming out for him to. You were sure his poor roommates had heard it all. Yugyeom hummed rolling over as his eyes slowly opened.

“Morning sleepyhead.” You say with a halfway giddy smile.

Yugyeoms bed head stuck out in all directions as he popped his head up to smile at you. “Good morning baby ugh I’m starving let’s get some food”. He hopped up to get dressed.

“Right”. You tugged on your own clothes feeling your stomach growl. As you both walked out you ran smack into Youngjae who’s eyes were puffy and mouth was set to a frown.

“Hey! You know I’m a light sleeper how could you betray me like that man”. You snickered as yugyeom looked embarrassed. He knew what Youngjae meant.

“M-my bad sorry”.

He bowed and gripped your hand hightailing it out of there.

Bambam

You felt like you were on cloud nine. Last had been a perfect anniversary night and the morning after was currently living up to the standard Bambam sat at the edge of the bed prattling on about the two of you going out for breakfast while putting on his clothes.

You weren’t really listening, you were too busy admiring the way the muscles in his back moved as he bent and tied his shoes. Bambam was a skinny guy but what he lacked in bulk he made up for with what you called “secret muscles” you chuckled to yourself at the silly name.

Bambam turned to you buttoning up his shirt. “Babygirl? Are you listening?” You snapped out of your daze and stared up at him. “Sorry no.”

Bambam laughed. “I must’ve knocked a concussion into you when your head hit the bed frame huh?” You grumbled roughly throwing a pillow at him as he broke down laughing.

“Shut up idiot!” You got up stomping over to the bathroom to showeand change. After a good hour, you came out dressed tossing your shower cap and damp towel and wash cloth into your bag before moseying over to the living room.

“Oh there she is! The squealer!” You gasped at the comment that came out of mark of all people. Fully embarrassed you kept over the couch like a trained parkour specialist to pummel him.

“Mark you rat! I’ll get you!” Bambams laughs doubles him over as he watched.

Jackson

You woke to the feel of soft kisses on your face then moments later a heavy weight on top of you. “Y/nnnnn wake up”. God, morning people. You rubbed your eyes glaring up at the smiling boy. Still you loved the big rascal, the weight on you gave way to memories of last night flooding in. It was scary how quickly Jackson could switch from sexy to fluffy.

You sighed. “Alright I’m up now get off you weigh a ton!” You say pushing against his chest. He pouted not budging. “Are you calling me fat babe?”You grunted pushing against his chest some more.

“Yes now get off so I can get dressed!” Jackson’s hands snapped out and caught your wrists pushing your arms down. You looked into his eyes they screamed mischief. His lips touched along your jaw traveling to your lips. You hummed as his lips pressed against yours. Then as if he had drawn out exactly what he wanted he sat up and got off.

Your mouth fell open. That little- you growled low in your throat and gathered your clothes yanking them on. By the time you’d dressed most of your annoyance and arousal had dissipated. You both waltzed out of his room into the living room. There sat Yugyeom and jinyoung sitting cross legged waiting for you. “Well look Yugyeom if it isn’t the siren and her mate. Did you two have fun waking me up at two am?” Jackson grinned ear to ear clearly very proud.

He pulled you closer to his side by the waist. “Yup I make her scream like a piggy every night”. You thwacked the side of his forehead. “That’s not something you brag about you big idiot! and I’m not a piggy!”

“Ouch baby your love hurts”

Mark

The morning light shined on Marks closed eyes. You watched his nose twitch cutely while he slept. He looked like an angel. He wasn’t. There was no way an angel could pull off what he’d managed last night. You’ve had sex a few time but none of those experiences could top his performance. You were sure youd probably woken everyone within a ten mile radius. You were actually a bit nervous to look Marks roommates in the eye.

A grunt fell from marks lips as he woke up his brown eyes shining like honey as the lights hit them. “Goodmorning”. You said swiping a stray strand of hair away from his forehead. He sat up stretching his long limbs out. “Mornin”. You watched him shamble out of bed to get dressed for the day. You watched him tug on a shirt and fasten the button of his jeans before finally tearing your eyes away to change yourself.

You and mark stepped out of his room dressed and walked hand in hand into the kitchen to grab something to eat considering you two had worked up quite an appetite. Instead of greeting breakfast item you saw each and every one of marks roommates sat at the kitchen island and waiting for you.

Jinyoung was the first to speak up. “Whatever you did to make her scream like that don’t do it again”. You couldn’t help but chuckle.

Jackson spoke second. “I think you woke the neighbors!” Yugyeom frowned. “I’m too young to hear these things.” He screeched.

You were keeled over with laughter at this point mark could barely hold it together trying to keep the smile off his face. Until the boys all joined in your laughter of the situation. “I’m...aha.....I’m sorry it won’t happen again.” Mark choked out between chuckles

Masterlist

[bngtanah]

I’m (not) With The Band. | o5

summary: Adrienne is an indie producer who is hired to help co-produce BTS’ next album alongside their resident producer; Suga. Despite the initial opposition on both ends, the pair spend time together, share a few stories, dreams and aspirations and begin to hit it off really well. Wrapped up in the whirlwind of late nights and heated disagreements and reconciliations, Min Yoongi and Adrienne Rolle find themselves growing closer and closer. One night they decide to cross the barrier between personal and professional and do their best make a relationship work against all odds.

pairing: idol!Yoongi  x Named OC

word count: 7k genre: drama, romance, smut(eventually)

chapters: prologue| o1| o2| o3| o4| o5| o6| o7| o8| o9| 10| 11|

warning: light angst, smut, fluff, workplace relationship, slow burn, sexual themes, ambw, enemies to friends to lovers, developing relationship

a/n: still a fool. still re-uploading.

"No, I've got today off, technically. My partner and his band mates have a super packed schedule today and I can't finish the two songs we have without him so I'm just working on stuff at home, personal things."

"You're going to stay at home all day? Why not explore, make some friends?"

The fatigue in Danielle's voice was clear and Adrienne felt guilty for keeping her sister up so late but it was barely mid-morning where she was and they hardly had any time to catch up with one another since Adrienne and the rest of the team had worked even harder in an attempt to finish the album ahead of schedule. They had months until it was due to be completed and Adrienne didn't really see the point in grinding so hard so early but Yoongi didn't seem to share that sentiment since whenever Adrienne brought it up he repeated that he would rather have everything done as early as possible than lag behind. It was annoying but Andy couldn't bother to argue in favour of laziness.

"I have friends, the boys are my friends and they're all busy today," Andy chuckled and slid down further into the corner of the couch she was currently wedged into. 

"Find friends that aren't busy 362 days of the year," Danielle countered with a small yawn.

Adrienne snickered and silently rolled her eyes, just imagining the judgmental look Danielle must have been giving her. "Yeah, I'll get right on that," She replied with heavy sarcasm, earning a small annoyed groan from the older woman.

"You little brat."

Adrienne giggled.

"If you won't go make new friends, at least, tell me about the boy band. Are they as corny as I think they are?"

"They are actually not corny at all..." Adrienne paused as the image of Jungkook and Hoseok improvising a dance that would put her interpretive stretching to shame during their practice the night before came to mind  "They're not as corny as you think they are.... most of the time."

"Mhm, so they're corny as hell. Is your partner still being a dick?"

"Yes... and no? I've been watching him and he pretty much treats everyone the same way, snippy and kinda rude but I don't think he's truly a dick. I think he's one of those people that wants everyone to think their an ass but he's actually kind of sweet and caring, generous-"

"Is he cute?"

"I-What?" Adrienne sputtered and sat up straight.

Danielle cackled as softly as she could and rested a hand against her rounded stomach, "Girl I know you heard me. Is he cute?"

"I don't know..... I haven't really paid attention to that." Adrienne threaded her fingertips through her braids and scratched her scalp in thought "I guess he's not ugly, I'll send you a picture you can judge." Andy pulled her cell phone away from her ear and swiped her fingers across the surface to send a picture she'd taken a few days earlier.

"He looks pissed." 

She heard Danielle commenting as she pressed the receiver back to her ear.

"Yeah... I had to force him to take it with me, I don't know how to make him smile yet."

"Why do you still have those braids in your head?"

Adrienne groaned, "Listen, you can only judge one person at a time me or Yoongi,"

"Is that is his name?"

Adrienne grunted a yes and aimlessly bit down on her fingernails, suddenly finding her sister approval very necessary. 

"It doesn't really matter if I think he's cute, do you?"

"It doesn't matter if I do either! We work together." Adrienne groaned and threw herself back against the cushions.

"Right, because being attracted to someone you work with is something Adrienne would never do."

The sarcasm was noted but ignored for Danielle's sake.

"It is. Besides, you know I'm more attracted to talent and shit than appearance."

"And....?"

"Annnd. I think Yoongi is..... very talented." Andy replied with an immediate smile that spread into an even wider grin when Danielle began laughing at her response.

"Not to totally change the subject or anything but how is my niece?"

"Your niece OR nephew has released the stranglehold on my bladder to rest for a few hours before waking me up at the ass crack of dawn to begin the terror again, I should be in a deep sleep right now."

"Shit, what time is there?"

"A little after 1."

"Seriously? Go to bed Dani."

"No, it's fine we can talk. Lloyd is asleep and I'm in the living room being sneaky."

"Danielle please take your pregnant ass to bed, I'm about to start working anyway so I can't talk anymore."

"... Are you sure?"

"Positive. Good night!"

"Love ya, little one. Wait, one last question, you're still flying in the week of my due date right? Lloyd and I just finished up the guest room."

"Love you too, and of course I'll be there my niece won't be born without me there to welcome her into the world."

Danielle chuckled before bidding her younger sister goodnight one last time and hanging up.

Adrienne pouted once the call was disconnected and tossed her phone onto the coffee table. She missed her sister more than she realised and each time they got the chance to talk it only made Andy feel more discouraged; instead of finding comfort in her older sister's voice she only focused on the fact that she was still so far away from everything she knew and even though her daily life was becoming easier for her to manage alone Andy still had to come home to an empty apartment and leave voice mails for her only family member to return half a day later. It was mildly depressing.

Huffing a brief sigh, Adrienne forced herself upwards and off the couch; she had no plans of letting her momentary gloom take over the rest of her day. Her arms stretched for the ceiling as Andy began searching for her laptop so she could begin tinkering with the few songs she planned on keeping for herself. A faint smile dusted her lips when she found the machine and Yoongi's voice played in her head; repeating his judgmental question about why she had so many stickers on her laptop. Her sister's question had honestly taken her aback, not because she didn't find Yoongi cute but because she wasn't sure if that was the right adjective to describe him with. Puppies and kittens were cute, but Min Yoongi was something Andy just didn't know how to define yet.

Almost like clockwork, just as the laptop booted up and Adrienne felt comfortable with her legs crossed in the couch, there was a series of frantic knocks against Adrienne's front door and she cursed under her breath as she unfolded her legs and got up to stomp towards the door. Her lips were twisted into a scowl while she unlocked the door and pulled it open but the person on the other side made her eyebrow knit closely together with uncertainty rather than anger. 

"Yoongi-ssi?"

Yoongi was out of breath with his hand gripping the door frame to catch himself, dressed in a disheveled sweater and a pair of ripped jeans Adrienne had seen him in far too many times and a pair of sneakers that seemed to give him an extra inch of height. Andy smiled brightly as she always did when they met but her eyes still gave away just how confused she was to see him at her door.

"Is everything okay Y-"

"I can't wait anymore Andy, I need you." Yoongi emitted in a hurried reply and Adrienne's eyes went wide with shock, her heart unexpectedly beat faster and the tips of her ears burn with warmth. There was something in the way he gasped her name while still attempting to catch his breath and the look of purpose in his eyes when he stopped looking at the ground and caught her gaze that was inexplicably attractive. Adrienne would deny it if questioned but an instant flush of heat rushed both to her cheeks and between her legs when she returned his eye contact.

"Need me... What?"

"I need you to come with me," Yoongi repeated, this time completing his sentence and giving Andy the chance to breathe a sigh of relief "I don't have time to explain everything but the release date moved up and we now have a month less to finish."

The brief statement brought Adrienne's priorities back to the forefront and her arms and jaw dropped when he was done.

"What?! How do they expect us to finish everything an entire month early, this is bullshit!"

"Yeah, I know. Can you complain on the way to the car? Everyone's waiting."

"Oh... Maybe you can say that first next time? Just give me a second to get dressed," Adrienne replied quickly as she spun around and closed the door in Yoongi's face.

It only took her a few minutes to dress and collect what tools she could carry along with her but for Yoongi, it might as well have been an hour. His foot tapped against the ground impatiently as he glanced down at his watch with every passing second, then ran to the entrance of the alleyway to silence the honking before returning to Adrienne's door just as she was walking out with her laptop and backpack in tow.

"Does it always take you this long to get dressed?"

"It was three minutes Yoongi, you can't show up at my apartment unannounced and expect me to run around on your schedule" Adrienne answered as she locked her front door and began following Yoongi towards the van where she could see the rest of the boys waiting to pull off.

"It wasn't unannounced, I called you five times, but you didn't answer."

Andy perked up to argue but instead pulled her mobile phone from her back pocket and bit down on her bottom lip when she saw that there were multiple missed calls from his number and a few text messages.

"Sorry, I was on a call and it was on silent," She said with a sheepish grin while she shoved the device back into her pocket and fought with pushing her laptop into her backpack.

Yoongi shrugged his shoulders and gestured for her to hand him the bag and laptop so she could walk faster. 

"Learn how you answer your cell phone, this could have been a disaster," He chastised as he swung the strap over his shoulder.

"Of course, Leader-nim," 

"Don't call me that, you know I don-"

Adrienne cut off Yoongi's whining once they reached the open door of the van by greeting everyone in her cheery fashion and taking the first empty seat available, followed by Yoongi who took the seat next to her and pushed her rucksack back towards her once the van pulled forward. Despite their smiling faces when the rest of the boys greeted her, Adrienne could tell that their energy was waning; it was only the middle of the day but she was sure they had already completed a full day's work, with hours of grinding left to go. Andy was already tired just thinking about what they had left to do.

"So where are we headed now?" Adrienne asked, pulling her backpack close to her chest.

"Video and photo shoot, it's probably going to take the rest of the day," Namjoon replied from his seat up front "They're usually really boring but it might not be so bad with you around" He continued and turned around to smile gently in Adrienne's direction. Andy mirrored his grin and opened her mouth to reply before she heard Yoongi's clearing his throat to get her attention.

"We don't really have time for this, I came for you so we could finish working not catch up with everyone," Yoongi said listlessly once Adrienne was looking at him and she nodded without answering. She knew that if she had answered her words would not have been docile so Adrienne found it best just to let him simmer in his attitude if he wanted to do that. Yoongi shot a Namjoon a brief look as Adrienne leaned forward to pull out her laptop and Namjoon took the hint to turn around, for now, he had plenty of chances to talk to Andy for the rest of the day and he knew that Yoongi was always a little testy about his music, it was better for everyone to not disturb him.

Yoongi however, wasn't worried about finishing their work on time at all. He did want everything to be finished as quickly as possible but his desire to stop his friend from getting any closer to Adrienne was much, much larger. They had a rapport that was too easy for Yoongi to fight against without revealing his 'innocent' crush or making it seem like he didn't like Adrienne which couldn't be further from the truth. It was childish and immature of him to basically call ‘dibs’ on her just because he saw her first but.... he had seen her first and just because he didn't want to risk his career by allowing himself to give into his temptations didn't mean that anyone else got to do so.

All of this went unnoticed by Adrienne who was trying to pull her laptop out of a bag she'd only just realised was way too small for it. Once she was done fighting with it, she exhaled and flipped the monitor upwards to allow it to boot up.

"Before you whine, I rearranged the hook on track 2," She said to Yoongi who immediately scrunched up his features and groaned but Andy held up a hand and continued speaking. "No whining! It sounds a lot better now, trust me."

"We spent two hours on that hook last night."

"I know, and it still didn't sound good, so I changed it. Just listen" Adrienne sighed and placed her headphones over Yoongi's ears then tapped the space bar on her keyboard. Yoongi's head nodded along to beat in silence, which Andy took as a pleasant sign since she knew he would be quick to complain if she had made the song worse.

"It's good," Yoongi replied simply as he handed Adrienne back the headphones.

"I know it is. You should trust me sometimes Yoongi, I know what I'm doing."

Yoongi shrugged and pretend to be nonplussed but Adrienne's lips spread into an arrogant lopsided smile that Yoongi hated to find so adorable. Headphones went over both of their heads and the two of them spent the rest of the ride reaching over one another to replay or 'fix' a certain part, silently arguing for the entire hour it took for them to reach the destination. By the time the van had rolled to a stop and everyone inside exited slowly, Adrienne and Yoongi had dissected every single second of their track and they still weren't any closer to being content with it. The squabble over whether to add the water droplet sound effect was being put on hold when Yoongi got out of the van and joined the rest of the boys rushing towards the venue where apparently everyone had already been waiting for them to show up. Adrienne recognised one of their managers as she trailed behind them, looking for a place to set up her laptop, but once he spotted the group approaching the neutral expression on his face soured.

"Where have you been?!" He exclaimed as he stormed towards them "Everyone here has been waiting for you to show up, do you know how much it cost for us to rent this space?"

Adrienne frowned, knowing that they were probably late because they had to come pick her up and then wait for her to get ready. She took a step forward and prepared to relay this information but a hand grabbing her wrist made her stop mid-step, Andy looked to her side and noticed Yoongi's quick head shake and the added pressure he put on her small wrist. She wasn't sure how he recognised that she was planning to say something or why he had stopped her but something about the way his eyes silently pleaded with her made her obey and remain silent. Instead, Namjoon took responsibility for them being late, stating a reason that used a few words Adrienne wasn't familiar with and he accompanied his apology with a deep 90-degree bow that all the boys mimicked. The manager huffed an exasperated sigh and pressed his thumb and index finger to the bridge of his nose.

"Just go get ready, enough time has been wasted already."

Before Adrienne got a chance to question Yoongi's action or ask Namjoon why he hadn't just told his manager the real reason for them being late, all seven of them spread out in different directions followed by the team of stylists and makeup artists in charge of dressing them for the shoot. That left Adrienne standing alone in the middle of the set looking lost and a little out of place, she quickly rectified that by searching for a familiar face from the BigHit staff or a table where she could set up her laptop and charge it; whichever came first.  Eventually, she found both a table with a socket nearby and someone to talk to; a stylist named Hye-Ji that Adrienne became acquainted with during her first week of official work. Once she had everything set up and ready to go Andy asked Hye-ji where she could find the dressing rooms, which earned her a playfully suspicious look but the stylist pointed in the general direction adding a faint “Try not to get caught,” behind her as she moved away. Adrienne planned on asking her what she possibly thought she would be caught doing but she left that where it was; all she wanted to do was apologise to Namjoon for having him take the blame for something she did before he got too busy to talk.

There were three different dressing rooms in the area that Hye-ji had pointed out and Adrienne lucked out with the first one being occupied by Jimin and Hoseok who were already fully dressed since she'd just barged in and completely forgotten to knock. She apologized profusely even though they were too busy laughing to actually notice her apologizing or leaving. At the next door she definitely remembered to knock on and sighed in relief when she heard Namjoon's deep voice answer.

"Namjoon, it's me. Are you dressed?"

A second of silence passed before the door cracked open and Namjoon smiled, revealing his exceptionally deep dimples as he stepped outside completely dressed in winter gear in the middle of the summer for some reason. 

"Something wrong?" He asked while closing the door behind him.

"No, I just wanted to apologise for earlier; you're manager chewing you guys out and everything. You didn't have to take the blame it was my fault you guys were late."

"We decided to come for you, so it wasn't really your fault and truthfully it doesn't really matter who's fault it actually was. I'm the leader which means I've gotta take responsibility regardless, so don't worry about it. We've made him angrier than that before." Namjoon garnished his reassurance with a smile that made Adrienne feel a bit better while she looked up at him.

"You're good a leader, Namjoon."

"Thanks" He replied before catching his manager's eye again, he should have been in the makeup chair already, "Uh, I've gotta go, you'll be around right?"

Adrienne nodded and waved as she watched the tall lanky boy run towards the makeup booth, quickly bowing to his manager again on his way. "Silly boy," Adrienne chuckled as she turned to walk in the opposite direction. She paused in front of the last dressing room since the door was still closed and she was fairly certain she knew who was still inside since she had already walked in on Jimin and Hoseok. Jin, Jungkook and Taehyung were already at the makeup booth. That left only Yoongi who apparently did not rush like the rest of them. After a second of debate, Adrienne knocked on the door and pressing an ear to the door.

"Yoongi-ssi?"

A grumbled string of words that vaguely sounded like 'come in' replied and Adrienne hesitated before opening the door and stepping inside. Then immediately regretting that decision once she was behind the closed door and less than a foot away from Yoongi who still was only half dressed. Andy's hand flew to cover her eyes before she squealed softly.

"I thought you said come in!" She asked, sounding slightly agitated.

"I did," Yoongi replied flatly.

"But you're not wearing a shirt,"

"So? Have you never seen a man shirtless before?" He asked and looked over towards Adrienne, slightly chuckling once he caught sight of her covering her face.

"Yes..." Andy said between her fingers as she separated them just slightly before dropping her hand entirely. He definitely was not the first man she'd seen without a shirt but Yoongi wasn't just some man, he was her coworker and somehow this felt... inappropriate. Was it inappropriate? Or was Adrienne just working herself up for no reason, there didn't have to be any reason for it to be improper if she wasn't attracted to him. That fact was becoming harder to deny as she shamelessly allowed her eyes roam over his exposed skin; he wasn't particularly muscular or defined but Adrienne just could bring herself to look away. That is until he moved forward and Adrienne remembered that he could see her ogling him though judging by the look on his face he didn't seem to care that much.

"Is there a reason you're here?"

"Yes! I wanted to apologise for being late, I didn't know how tight your schedule was,"

"Okay," Yoongi answered and took another step forward. There wasn't much space in the room as it was and the more he moved forward the harder it became for Adrienne to focus on what she wanted to say, she hadn't noticed his cologne before in the van but now with his bare skin being so close to her body Andy could easily inhale the scent and it was partially clouding her thoughts.

Why was he so close to her, anyway? 

"Is that all?" Yoongi asked while reaching forward to grab the shirt that was hanging on a hook above Adrienne's head.

She turned her head and quietly muttered the word 'oh' underneath her breath "Um, no I also wanted to ask you why stopped me earlier, it wasn't fair for Namjoon to take all the heat. I just wanted to set the record straight,"

Yoongi chuckled softly, well something between a scoff and a chuckle, as he pulled the shirt over his head and moved towards the seat on the other side of the room to put his shoes on.

"Namjoon is the leader, they would have made it his fault anyway, so taking the blame wouldn't have helped anything because Namjoon would just be asked why he couldn't keep better control of his team by making sure that everyone was ready on time." Yoongi tied his laces and Andy nodded softly "Besides, if I can be completely honest, he probably wouldn't have listened to you. You're new and some of the staff still don't even know your name so you stepping to the front would just have been seen as arrogant instead of helpful."

Yoongi stood up once his shoes were tied and moved towards the door again where Adrienne was still trying to make sense of his words. In some roundabout way, it sounded like he was trying to protect her but that train of thought opened an entirely new world of possibilities that Adrienne didn't want to explore.

"That's it right?"

Yoongi's question made Adrienne look up, and she startled herself when his face was just a few inches away from her own, well the lower half of his face anyway, the gentle half smile on his lips made Adrienne forget that he was trying to get out of the room and not flirting with her.

"Yeah.... that's all I had to say."

"Then can you move out of the way?"

Adrienne looked down at his hand on the door and her body pressed against it then quickly shuffled out of the way, muttering a soft "Sorry" as Yoongi exited the room and left her behind groan and mentally kick herself for coming in here in the first place. If anyone saw her there was no way they wouldn't get the wrong idea about her innocent intentions.

Adrienne may have been fretting about being misunderstood but on the other side of the door Yoongi was smug with pleasure, on the inside. He was still planning to keep his distance with Andy but there was nothing he could do about her coming to him. Sure, he didn't have to tell her to come in when he knew he wasn't fully dressed and there definitely was no reason for him to get so close to her when she could have easily just handed him the shirt but Yoongi enjoyed the way she reacted to him. It bolstered his ego and since there was no way he could outright flirt with her like Namjoon seemed so comfortable doing so he would have to settle for moments like this. They were good enough to sate his interest for now. The sound of one of the makeup artists calling for him to take a seat made Yoongi shuffle at a quicker pace but he was still trailing behind the rest of the group who were already done getting ready.

"You're moving so slowly today, hyung" Hoseok commented from the makeup chair next to his where he was waiting to be called for his solo shoot.

“I don't think I'm moving any slower than usual” Yoongi answered while the makeup artist dusted a powdery substance over his cheeks, he restrained himself from visibly grimacing. Makeup was always his least favorite part of this process.

Hoseok smirked and shook his head, swiveling the chair to face Yoongi's profile, “No you're definitely lagging, but the question is why?”

Yoongi didn't respond or even look to the side as Hoseok continued to goad him, he would not play along with whatever he was doing to ease his boredom.

"You can't be that tired since when you are you're usually the first one ready so you can nap while the rest of us are getting ready..." 

Yoongi remained stoic and Hoseok's scrutinising gaze became more pointed. "It's probably not your music either because you seem to trust Andy-noona with making decisions and you look.... happy not tired."

Yoongi sighed tossed his head back which made the makeup artist gasp and scold him for moving but Hoseok smiled like he was on the verge of discovering a prize and kept on pestering. 

"Which makes me wonder why she was looking for you earlier, she came to me and Jimin's dressing room thinking it was yours." 

Yoongi tensed just slightly but still refused to engage.

"I think she was looking for Namjoon too but I saw him come out of his dressing room and talk to her, I did not see you—"

"Hoseok."

Yoongi's one word made Hoseok stop mid-sentence and press a hand to his lips when Yoongi turned to face him (against the makeup artist's wishes again) he didn't glare or scowl at the younger male but the look on his face expressed how little he that he felt like playing games at that moment.

"Do you have something meaningful to say or do you just want to continue rambling bullshit and annoying me?"

His words might have been threatening to anyone else but Hoseok just took that as confirmation that he was hiding something he didn't want anyone to know. "I'll leave you alone as soon as you tell me what the deal is with you and Andy." Hoseok grinned. 

"There isn't one, bye."

"You don't expect me to believe that why was she in—"

"She came to apologise," Yoongi hissed in an annoyed whisper once the makeup artist cleared him to get up and leave, Hoseok trailed after him as he moved away from the makeup booth. "She wanted to say sorry for being late, there's no big secret."

"Oh. Well, why didn't she apologise to us? We got yelled at too!"

"I don't know maybe she doesn't like you." Yoongi shrugged.

Hoseok frowned and stopped walking for a few seconds "Hey... that's not funny we're friends. And that doesn't completely answer my question, her apologising wouldn't make you look happy..."

"You are so annoying, this is probably why she doesn't like you" Yoongi pointed out with a smug grin as he spun around to face Hoseok before walking off again.

"You're not funny hyung! Does she really not like me?" Hoseok called after Yoongi but he didn't answer.

It took three hours to get through the boys individual shots and another two to organise them for the group shots. Yoongi took every break he could to find Andy and continue their work but it was more than difficult for them to make any actual progress when he was pulled away to change his outfit or retouch his hair and makeup every five minutes. Adrienne didn't really mind, though. She enjoyed being able to admire the boys working and as far she was concerned they were done with both tracks. Whether she intended to or not she focused on Yoongi for most of the day, watching the way his expression changed when he was in front of the camera, even the way his body moved was different. He seemed to transform into a completely different person with each click of the camera shutter; he was confident masculine and actually sexy at certain points and Adrienne found herself hard pressed to look away even after being caught staring by both Yoongi and Hye-ji multiple times.

They completed the group photo-shoot in record time; two and half hours, and the crew immediately began setting up for the video shooting which really just meant getting rid of the backdrop and guiding the extras to their marks. That simple task presented a problem when apparently there weren't enough extras hired to fill in the gaps of the background, leaving spaces to be filled by whichever staff members were dressed nicely enough. Unfortunately for her, Adrienne never left her house unless she looked her best which meant she was one of the first plucked up from her seat and guided the video set. Despite her arguing that she didn't need to be there and that she would even cause a distraction, the director ignored her reasoning and countered that she would barely be seen in the back where they placed her, they only needed to fill a space.

The title track that Adrienne knew the boys would promote once the album was finished began playing and Andy followed along with the crowd and swayed back and forth to the beat. They were supposed to look like they were at a party so Adrienne did her best to follow direction but remain inconspicuous, a plan that failed once she saw Yoongi awkwardly shuffling in her direction and a few suspicious eyes turned to look at her.

"Is that how you dance?" She taunted once he was close enough, and he nodded and kept shifting his weight from one foot to another. 

"Sorry," Yoongi leaned over to say after a few seconds had passed. 

"For what?"

"I think I made you uncomfortable earlier, that wasn't my intention."

Adrienne nodded and smiled, biting down on her bottom lip out of habit, "Thank you, but that's not necessary I wasn't uncomfortable just... surprised."

She smiled at him so keenly and Yoongi found himself so entranced by her expression that he almost missed his cue to join the group dance, something that may not have been picked up by anyone else but it definitely did not go unnoticed by choreography leader Jung Hoseok. It took another 10 identical takes for the director to be satisfied with what he captured and Adrienne silently praised the heavens when they could finally leave. Everyone was back into the clothes they arrived in and ready to leave within in minutes, save for Adrienne who had been waiting by the van since they left to get undressed. It felt like it took twice as long to drive back to the studio than before and once they arrived the look on everyone's face read that they would rather be anywhere else than here. But, the boys had to practice and Adrienne and Yoongi had songs to produce. 

A loud and guttural moan left Adrienne's lips once she was walking through the doorframe of the Bangtan room and throwing her body onto the couch. Followed by Yoongi who was quiet as he settled down into the office chair in front of the console. 

"I don't know how you do this every day," Adrienne commented with her face still smothered in the couch.

"You become numb to it after a while... complaining doesn't help so why bother?"

Andy rolled her eyes and sat up to make faces at the back of his head, tossing her backpack on the seat next to her. Yoongi was already opening programs on the computer and could see her in the reflection of the glass monitor but ignored her until she stopped pulling faces and ended up just staring like she had been for most of the day.

"What's wrong with you?" Yoongi commented with his head still turned away from Andy.

"What are you talking about?"

"You've been staring at me all day."

"No, I have-" Adrienne began to lie but him turning around to glare gave her pause, "I didn't think you would notice."

"You didn't think I'd notice your big brown eyes looking at me all day?"

She smirked slightly at his choice of words but shook her head from side to side.

"No? I was just trying to figure something out."

"Figure what out?"

"My sister asked me if you were cute and I didn't have an answer for her so today I was trying to figure it out."

"Hm." Yoongi replied and turned back around as if that answer was completely reasonable. "Did you come to a conclusion?"

"About you being cute? I don't know.... I mean Jungkook is cute, Jimin is cute but you aren’t really like them."

"Thank you" He replied, making Adrienne laugh.

"The results of my study today were inconclusive but if I ever figure it out, you'll be the first to know. I did figure out something else today."

"What?"

"You're short."

"I'm taller than you!"

"I'm like 158 cm, Yoongi, are you really proud of that?"

Adrienne grinned and Yoongi did nothing to conceal the gum revealing grin that spread across his lips, "Whatever."

"I also just remembered I haven't asked my question of the day yet."

Yoongi made a grunting noise for her to go ahead but Adrienne was stuck.

"Erm, I haven't thought of one yet. You go first."

He exhaled but did as she asked anyway, "What is your favourite BTS song?"

"Seriously? Any question and you want to know that?"

"You don't have to answer."

"No, I do! Those are the rules, it's just a lame question," Andy snickered "Right now I have two; 'Just One Day' and 'Move', it's weird because your kind of the reason they're my favourites."

"What do you mean?"

"When I first started researching all your music, I didn't understand it so I just listened to whatever sounded good, but now I can understand most of what you guys are saying and your verses on Just One Day and Move are....... poetry. Like, the production and whatever are great but it's your words that really make the song what it is for me, you have this way of precisely capturing the subject of a song and putting it all in your verse. Especially Just One Day, when I read the lyrics for that I seriously had heart palpitations it's so good. I want someone to feel that way about spending the day with me." 

Adrienne rounded off her explanation with a momentary burst of laughter and her hands pressed tightly to her heart but Yoongi was left slightly stunned. He always enjoyed being complimented for his work but no one had every really explained what they liked about his music quite the same way she just had. It seemed ridiculous to say but hearing her talk so deeply made his heart melt.

Yoongi's eyes softened as he turned to around to look at Adrienne, not because he wanted to cry but because her words genuinely moved him.

"I think I know what my question is n- are you alright?" Adrienne asked when she looked up and met his eye line.

"I'm fine," Yoongi answered quickly and rubbed a hand down the length of his face, "What do you want to know?"

"Look who's suddenly eager for my questions now that he's been complimented!" She teased "I want to know what your favourite part of making music is."

"Ah, that's easy. When it's done."

"That's such a boring answer, I gave you an analysis."

"I don't mean when I literally finish a song and hand it over, I mean when everything is done, and it's released to the public. There have always been so many people in my ear telling me that I shouldn't be doing this or that I should have pursued some other career so when I finish a song and release it and I can visibly see that so many people all over the world are enjoying something that I made... It gives me a reason to keep doing this and prove anyone that's ever doubted me wrong."

"Wow," Adrienne sighed and leaned back into the couch "So basically you want your entire career to be one giant 'fuck you' to the haters? Nice." 

Yoongi nodded and swiveled around in his seat once again, allowing Adrienne to smile as wide as she wanted without feeling embarrassed by him watching her. He was opening up to her, slowly, but it was happening and that's all that mattered. It felt like they were genuinely becoming friends and that made Adrienne happy because that was all she wanted from the beginning. Of course, her definition of friendship didn't include wanted to see him shirtless again, but that was an issue she would deal with some other day.

"I think I’m going to go home now," Adrienne said behind a yawn as she stood to her feet.

"But we haven't rechecked the music."

"I trust you, and I think both of the songs are good enough to be sent in. If you want to change something, then you can I'm giving you the authority, try not to work too hard," She stated while she stood behind him and rubbed his shoulders with both her hands, then absentmindedly smoothed them down over his biceps before she could stop herself. The sudden contact and proximity made Yoongi shudder in a way that was not missed by Adrienne but neither of them brought any attention to that or the change in the air between them. Yoongi craned his head to look up at Andy over his shoulder and Adrienne's hands were still gently gripping his biceps when a knock on the door broke their momentary gaze.

Jungkook, Jimin and Taehyung were stumbling inside, massaging their muscles and complaining about the recent additions to the choreography and Adrienne took the chance to slip out as quickly as she could after saying goodnight to all of them.

Yoongi hardly listened to what his younger members were saying because his mind was still focused on how good Adrienne's small hands felt against his skin. If nobody had walked in at that moment he was sure he would have kissed her and that just wasn't the kind of thing coworkers did. Although Yoongi honestly thought he had the self-control to keep himself from desiring anything other than a professional relationship with Adrienne, he was proving more and more every day that that may not be possible.

What scared him most of all was that he was beginning not to care.

[lizzytheauthor]

Why not, right? Might as well just post it chapter by chapter. I might need to figure out how to like...archive all of them in one post or...maybe I could just do a page or something on the blog? Idk. I’ll figure it out later. Here’s the first chapter

Chapter 1

Yellow. Blinded by yellow. I feel wind? When did I get outside? I feel...peaceful.

I blink my eyes, and suddenly I’m laying in my bed. I look at the clock, 8am. On the dot. I look over and see a still vacant bed. I don’t remember going to sleep last night, but I...I don’t think I saw this Pete person. Maybe he’s not in yet, maybe he’s arriving later. I’m not quite sure what I’m supposed to be doing. My “treatment” is at 9. Which is in an hour. I can only assume that the treatment in question is some kind of hypnosis. I don’t believe it personally. People going under and acting strangely? Nonsense. They insist that after three or four treatments I’ll be cured? Impossible.

I can’t have been sitting there for more than 5 minutes, thinking about what to do with my time. But a quick glance at my clock read 8:50am. I swear it hasn’t been 50 minutes, yet the clock betrays me. Maybe I’m just zoning out. I’ll have to mention it to the doc-

Knock. Knock.

8:59. Hm.

I go over to the door, and open it to see one of the large men from the front. He just grunts, and I assume that means I follow him. His pace seems a lot slower, probably due to his hulking mass. It allows me to look at everything around me with more detail. The doors predictably all look the same, the halls are a bland beige with a dark blue line at about doorknob height. Occasionally there’s a potted plant at a corner, or alcove. It all reeks of hospital. I don’t like it, nor do I trust it. I especially don’t trust the time. I’ve heard of time blindness, but...surely it’s not this bad?

We round a corner, and start climbing some stairs. Strangely, it does feel like I know where I’m going? Maybe it’s just cause I’m following a large man who clearly does know. These steps feel a little more daunting. I get a sense of apprehension about just climbing them. Like...Well. It sounds silly. I feel like the stairs go on forever? It doesn’t, I mean, I can see the top. It’s right there. But it feels like it.

This thought made me turn around. I felt like I had climbed at least a dozen or so steps, and sure enough the landing is simply 6 or 7 steps down. I don’t know how to parse this information. I think it’s better to ignore it for now.

The hulking man never said a word, didn’t notice anything strange I guess. We did reach the top, after an agonizing amount of time, impossible for me to trust my own sense of time. The top of the stairs was dark. As we reached it, the light came on overhead. All I could see is an endless expanse of darkened halls. I suppose they’re motion sensors, and I’m the first treatment of the day. Maybe.

A split second, I could’ve sworn I could….hear something. I’m not sure what. Maybe it’s just the hum of the lights as they slowly gain heat from being on?

We pass door, after door, after door. It seems endless, monotonous, boring. Finally, after probably the longest walk down like 3 halls and some stairs, of my life. The large man stops, and gestures to a door.

I open it, and walk through, cause I can’t exactly tell that kind of man no, ya know? Inside the door, is a small room, there’s a single chair, under a light fixture, it’s somewhat reminiscent of a dentists office. But with less actual equipment. The door is closed behind me, and I decide to sit in the chair, cause I’m sure as hell not gonna stand. And I wait.

I wait. I wait. I wait. There’s no clock in here, so I don’t know how much time passes. If you pressed a gun to my head and asked me to tell you how much, I’d say 3 hours. Finally, the doorknob turned, and in came a doctor. A woman, early thirties probably. Long black hair, pulled into a ponytail. She’s wearing a white lab coat, and has small rectangular glasses, which she adjusted as she entered.

“Hello, uh” she looks at her clipboard, which I didn’t notice her holding previously. “Ralph. That’s a nice name.” she gives a smile, this one feels genuine. More sincere some how.

“Yea...uh...Hi?” I let out, I try not to stammer my words, I don’t even know why it’s hard for me to talk.

Her smile maintains, almost alleviating my previous concerns. Almost.

“My name is Cera. Cera O’Hara.” she extends her arm, to give me a handshake.

I think that’s what’s throwing me off, she’s the first person that seems..well...like a person. A genuine, sincere one. I take her hand, and shake it.

“Uh, can I. Hm.” I pause, maybe this is a weird question. “What time is it?”

“Oh!” she pulls out a pocket watch, it seems basic at a glance. As I stare at it, I notice there is an almost beautiful intricate etching in it. “It’s 9:15. Right, sorry about the lateness, I overslept on accident.” She puts away the pocket watch. “So, this first session isn’t going to be all that exciting. I just need to perform a basic analysis of your mental state, so I know how to properly proceed with treatment.” she lets out a light chuckle, “Not that I don’t trust the state’s doctors, but ‘C-PTSD’ is hardly a comprehensive diagnosis. It doesn’t even state causative traumas, attempted treatments, possible co-morbid diagnoses, et cetera.”

I nod my head as though I understand, but this is all way over my head. Honestly, it’s a little boring, and I almost feel as though I could fall asleep to her voice.

“So, let’s begin!” she says, with a clap.

Then, suddenly. I’m in my room. I...How did I get here? I don’t...quite remember…

A look at the clock above my door, it says it’s only 10:30...the sun is out, so it’s still morning. I remember in those ghost stories, that digital stuff is always unreliable, and old stuff works better. I focus my hearing, and I feel like with the silence of the building I can hear the motor in the clock, along with the Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. Not digital. I breathe a sigh, but I don’t know if it’s from relief or...hm. Wait. No, there’s no apprehension. If I see Cera I’ll have to thank her...I’m sure this is probably her doing. It’s been...a while since I felt no tension in my shoulders.

I look at the calendar, and see there’s nothing on the schedule. Or rather, it’s more accurate to say that the only things on the calendar are treatment times. So I guess I have free access? I feel hungry, so I guess breakfast is as good as anything to start my day with. I hear it’s the most important meal of the day.

I chuckle at my dumb thought.

I begin to leave the room, and bump into him. I would not have expected pete to look like this, but I mean, he’s entering the room, so surely it’s him. He has curly red hair, glasses that seem more like binoculars on his eyes, and he’s so skinny, and short.

“Oh, uh, hi!” I try to let out, as I step aside letting him in.

He doesn’t respond immediately, instead goes to his bed and sits down. It takes a moment of agonizing silence, before he finally looks up, and notices me.

“Hello!!” he waves with this with a surprising cheerfulness, like I suddenly snapped him back into reality. “My name is Pete, are you just arriving?”

I nod, “uh, erm. No, I” I point to my bed, expecting it to be messy as I don’t remember making it. But… “Ah, well..uh, no. I came yesterday, I think.”

He looks mildly confused, but shrugs it off, “So you’ve had your first treatment then?”

“I...I think? I don’t remember. I remember the lady saying we weren’t doing anything today, but then I-”

“-’Woke up’ in your bed?” he finishes for me. “It happens.” he shrugs.

“So, that’s normal then?”

Pete thinks for a moment, “Uh, normal isn’t normal here. You’ll see, I think.” he takes out a drawing pad, and a pencil, and he starts drawing.

Not wanting to disturb my new roommate, I check the clock. 10:35. I could swear that it was longer than 5 minutes, but I suppose my sense of time is just shot. Oh! Breakfast, right. I’m hungry. My legs moved on their own, and I began to walk through the halls, I felt like I was on the second floor still, but a window I passed by betrayed me. I was on the first floor. I don’t recall any stairs. Maybe I was zoning out way harder than I thought. Finally I made it to the cafeteria.

“Hey ralph!” the jovial man handing food out addressed me, “You’re a little early for lunch, unless you want a second breakfast?” He waits for my response.

“Uh, wait, second? I never had a first.”

Brian winks at me, “Oh, I see, well here, how about some pancakes?” he seems to be sharing a one sided inside joke that I do not get.

“Sure, that sounds great!” the enthusiasm that erupts out of me surprises me.

The enthusiasm puts a thought into my mind that maybe this isn’t such nonsense. Brian puts a couple pancakes on my plate, and I walk to the table. I think about all the creepy stuff, but maybe it’s not actually creepy. Maybe it’s strange, yea, but I mean, if this fixes me, then why not? I feel better already, I think. And that was just after one treatment, which I was told wasn’t even anything.

My eyes feel kinda heavy. I should eat a little bit, for energy. I think.

With a blink, I’m transported away. A field of wheat. I notice immediately, that I’m alone, and the wheat seems endless. There’s no house, no building of any kind, no trees, nothing. Just endless wheat. I notice second, that I’m not scared. It actually feels peaceful.

I felt compelled to start walking, feeling the wind on my face, the wheat against my hands. I can almost hear voices carried by the wind, but no. I can’t make anything out. Honestly, it feels nice to just not be fearful. Stressed. I must be dreaming, right? I can’t quite wake up. Or rather, I can’t feel my sleeping body. I guess. It’s not another nightmare, yet, so I’ll just enjoy this. I’m sure it’s not unusual for a 19 year old to pass out in a cafeteria.

I walk endlessly, it feels like forever, and I know I can certainly not trust dream time. I can’t even trust my real time, so there’s no point really. I just walked. A building begins to blur into focus, in the distance. I decide to go towards it, I have nothing else to do. The building doesn’t seem to get any closer. Hours upon hours I walk towards it.

I think for a moment, that this actually IS another nightmare, but that’s not the feeling I feel. I still feel that serene grace. That quiet peace. Just walking. Maybe it’s the wind, maybe it’s the sun on my face. I don’t know. I continue walking. This seems...Fami-

CLAP.

I’m ripped out of my dream. I don’t recognize the room I’m in, but it’s not a bedroom. I try and take in my surroundings, but everything seems fuzzy. Like, like trying to imagine your childhood room, by someone who is describing it through old pictures that are worn. You can almost tell where you are, but not quite.

“Hey, come back to me.” a girls voice. No, woman. Older for sure. Not terribly old.

I try to look at the voice, but it’s so hard to focus. Why can’t I focus?

“Feel your senses returning to you, become aware of your surroundings. It’s not terribly difficult. I do apologize for the abruptness, but this is the first time you’ve been alone.” as she says this, things start coming into focus. Slowly.

The woman in the room with me, has long brown hair. Her face feels gentle, even though it’s still slightly fuzzy.

“My name is Valerie. But please don’t call me that. Call me Val.” her attitude seems different. Normal? Well, not normal for this place. But, like, normal for outside.

I become acutely aware of the room. We’re in a gym or something. There’s weights, and exercise machines. We’re the only two in the room, and it’s much bigger than I thought it was at first.

All I can mutter is, “What?”

“Come on, surely you realize what’s happening?” she waits, and I just stand there. Clearly irritated, she continues, “Hypnosis? I mean really, you’re in a hypnosis institute. Did you think it’d be therapy and gumdrops for your stay?”

She goes to the door, and checks both ways out the halls.

“Hypnosis?” I ask. I still struggle to find my thoughts.

“Ugh, yes.” she hands me a watch, “Don’t let them see this. Try to not lose time.”

I check the watch, it’s digital. 3:39pm. I lost 5 hours.

“No, no no. This has to be wrong. It was only 10 something a second ago.” I protest, but she waves her hand dismissing it.

“Missing time means they’re stealing it.” she glances out again. “Hey, go to reception, and ask for a journal. They hand them out to everyone that asks. Keep track of...well. Keep track of anything that feels important.”

“What?” but it’s no use, she’s out the door and down the hall.

I guess...I guess I’m going to go to reception and get a journal. I step out of the gym, and try to get a feel for where I am. I honestly don’t know. I see some people who look like people who work here, and decide to approach them. After all, I haven’t done anything wrong, there’s no reason for me to fear these people. Right?

“Hey, I think I’m lost.” I start, “I was eating lunch, and then all of a sudden I was in that gym.”

Which isn’t entirely the truth, but also not a lie. Surely they’d understand.

“You’re not lost.” one of them says.

I take a step back, I...what?

“What? No, I...” but then it hits me. I do know where I am. No, wait. I don’t. I swear I don’t. But my feet are already moving. Whatever panic might have started building is swiftly replaced with a calm. I don’t understand. I don’t understand any of this.

I just, try and convince my feet I want to go to the receptionist. I pass some people dressed in clothes similar to mine, they don’t acknowledge my existence. I notice they seem happy, it feels genuine. Maybe. I doubt it. I continue walking down the light beige halls, with it’s green line at doorknob height. It seems off, but I can’t quite place my finger on it.

After a handful of minutes, I arrive at the receptionist desk. I see Miranda, typing at her computer. The computer looks like an old 90’s era computer. Not what I expected in this new age institute. At any rate, Miranda notices my presence.

“Oh! Ralph! Hello! Can I help you with anything?” her cheerful attitude is still overwhelming.

“Uh, y-yea. Can I have a journal? I want...I want to write my thoughts down.” I don’t quite know what I’m going to write, but…

“Oh, pesky thoughts. Always getting in the way, I think. Maybe writing them down will rid you of them!” she smiles at me, I don’t fully get her meaning, but that sounded threatening. She reaches under her desk and pulls out an all black notebook. It looks leather? I take it. “Off you go now, it’s almost time for bed!”

I look at the clock on the wall above her. 7:40. I glance to the front doors, to confirm that it is indeed night already. How did I lose…

“Uh, oh. Ok. Yea.” I turn and go back down the hall. I feel Miranda burning a hole in my back with her stare.

After I’m well out of Miranda’s gaze, I take the watch out of my pocket. 4:39pm. I don’t get it. I don’t understand. I look around the halls, and there’s no windows. I look at one of the plaques, and see I’ve already made it to my room. I...this is strange. I don’t understand. I shouldn’t, I mean. Once again I feel the panic start to build, and it swiftly gets crushed. Nothing. Calm? No, that’s not quite it.

I walk in, and see out the window, the sun is out. It’s not right. Nothing is right. I’m not. I don’t think I’m crazy. Am I?

“Hey dude, I’m about to go get some dinner.” Pete was still drawing on his bed. I don’t know if he’s moved at all from that spot, though he is laying down instead of sitting now. He looks at me, “Whoa, hey, you ok? You’re sweating.” he sits up, and grabs a remote to turn the ceiling fan on.

Did we always have one? I don’t remember.

Am I sweating? I must be, my clothes feel damp.

“Uh, I think I’m gonna lay down...Could, you..” I pause. I don’t know what to say. How do you explain this? Maybe he knows. “Do you lose time?”

He looks at me, concerned, “Yea. I do. Hey, let me grab some food for you, just lay down, take it easy.”

He walks off. I decide to write this in my journal. Maybe taking note of things will help me retain my sanity. I hope it does. I keep the watch next to my journal as I write, I really don’t want to ‘lose’ any more time. They don’t deserve it, it’s mine.

After writing how I felt, the time loss, the way this building seems to claim my sanity. I just lay there. I feel exceptionally exhausted, yet somehow still relaxed. Is this intentional? Is this fixing me? To be fair, I haven’t thought about my parents. I feel frustrated. Again, the feeling gets squished by a larger pacificati….that’s it. Pacification. That’s what I’m feeling.

Last time I looked at the watch it said 7:06pm. A little early, but my body needs the rest. Wait, wasn’t Pete going to bring me dinner?

I hope he’s ok. I can’t help but feel myself drift off to sleep at this thought. Yellow. Again, that blinding yellow.

[where-the-wind-is]

The Dog Dies at the End (oneshot)

Fandom:  The Arcana (Visual Novel)

Rating: General Audiences

Words:1536 Chapters:1/1  Lucio (The Arcana)/Reader

“Oh I’m so worried about her” the count cooed for the umpteenth time that day, combing his non-metal fingers through Mercedes’ unruly white fur.

The dog in question breathed heavily as she lay, sprawled across Lucio’s lap. For weeks and weeks the poor girl had been very ill; never playing, refusing meals, vomiting, it was concerning how off she was. You sit in thought at Lucio’s side on his lavish bed and watch Melchior pace restlessly on the carpet below. Whimpers and growls revealing the other dogs growing concern for his partner.

“Maybe we should have Julian look at her again?” You suggest half-heartedly, fully prepared for him to snap at you. He almost does from the look on his face, but he doesn’t have the energy to follow through. Instead, he just sighs and drops his head, burying his face in the sick dogs’ silky fur.

“No…Jules already said he’s stumped. He’s a person-doctor, not a dog-doctor.” The count laments, voice muffled by Mercedes’ mane.

“Then we should find a dog-doctor! That’s a thing, right?” You continue, now he snaps.

“You think I didn’t try?!” He spits harshly, sitting up abruptly yet careful not to jostle his precious baby. “Specialists are rare and expensive and Nadia said it would be ‘a waste of taxpayer money’” He continues bitterly. Quietly you lean in closer to him and drape an arm across his hunched back, offering what little comfort you can.

You’d had this conversation before in the months Mercedes had been sick, it always ended like this. Sullen and argumentative and ultimately hopeless. Melchior stops pacing and rests his chin on the bed, snuffling Mercedes’s fur with a small whine. You feel your heart breaking for the poor boys watching a family member slip slowly away.

With a hiccup that might’ve been a suppressed sob, Lucio carefully extracts himself from under the beautiful canine.

“I…I have to…not be here” he fumbles his words, making his way to his bedroom door. Melchior follows him curiously but stops in the doorway.

“You’re leaving her alone?” You ask quietly. You aren’t passing judgment, just asking him to say it out loud. He gulps loudly, facing away from you. Metal hand pressed to the wall as if he’d collapse without the support.

“Yes, I can’t…I have busi…*sniff* business and …I can’t watch it…” his shoulders shake but you pretend not to notice, he obviously doesn’t want you to see his crying.

“Ok” is your quiet reply. “You want me to come with you?” You ask wondering if he’d prefer your comfort to any form of solitude. He shakes his head vigorously, casting a nervous glance back at you.

“No no, stay with her…I don’t want h-her to be alONE!” The end of the sentence turns into a squeal as the tears he’d been holding in finally catch in his throat. You watch him stomp quickly away and turn your eyes back on the suffering borzoi. She looks sick and exhausted but not in imminent danger of death. Was Lucio simply assuming the worst? Melchior leaps gracefully to the decadent comforter of the bed and starts grooming Mercedes’ ears.

In time Mercedes’ shallow pants become soft whines. You reach out a hand to comfort her and almost get maimed as Melchior snaps and snarls.

What?

Mercedes’ whining grows more strained and you begin to panic. Why was she in pain? Why was Melchior being so aggressive all of the sudden? You consider getting Lucio but decide he’d just freak out and make the situation worse. Instead, you make sure the dogs are as comfortable as possible and you sit back to observe.

0He wasn’t proud of leaving them, but he couldn’t bear to see his baby girl in that much pain. Lucio sat curled on a plush sofa he’d designated his crying sofa™ and wept for the poor babies. He knew Mercedes didn’t have long, and Melchior would never hold out without his girl. Lucio couldn’t believe he’d lose them so soon, and with another sudden wave of sadness, he remembered that he’d left them alone.  

But that was hours ago.

Now he couldn’t help the pathetic sobs that racked him, and he wasn’t even ashamed anymore. He’d been with those dogs for so long it was like a piece of his soul was dying. This was the end of a huge chapter of fighting for glory and fleeing from his past. All of it with those two beautiful canines by his side.

He kept oscillating between disbelief and complete despair. He’d be so sad and then realize it was actually happening and the grief would drag him deeper. It wasn’t fair! They were only…well he didn’t know how old they were but they weren’t old. They were playful and healthy and they could have easily lived another ten years. Lucio actually couldn’t breathe for a moment from the force of his crying, he didn’t care if he was ruining the suede upholstery.

This was the end, the end. Nothing could fix this, nothing could ever be the same.

He buried his fingers in his hair and pulled as his thoughts seemed to growl at him. The mantra of failure and endings repeating over and over. Refusing to be silent. It was an unexpected voice that pulled him out of the quicksand.

“Lucio?”

His head snapped up at the audacity of the doctor to interrupt his suffering. Quickly his anger turned to fear as he realized the state Jules had caught him in.

“You uh…” Julian looked away, mildly uncomfortable with the sight of the count crying. Not just crying but outright sobbing in abject heartbreak. “MC wanted me to get you, it seemed urgent”

Lucio tossed the words around in his exhausted mind, taking several minutes to realize their meaning. Finally, he felt his stomach sink at the implication.

She was gone.

Numbly Lucio stood and walked past the doctor, not even offering a nod. His legs carried him without his input through the familiar halls of his wing. Expensive paintings featuring the friends he was about to lose mocking him as he trudged.

Coming to the room he’d left, he stood outside the extravagant door. He needed to open it, but he couldn’t find the strength to lift his arm, so instead, he used the magic one. At least there was a modicum of detachment with the gesture. His heart cracked in two as he heard the squealing cry’s that no doubt came from Melchior. Without letting himself hesitate he pushed the heavy door open.

And his heart stopped.

There on his bed was the single sight that could bring him to his knees, and it did. He didn’t even feel the impact as he hit the ground, kneeling in the doorway. Mercedes laid where he left her, breathing heavily with exertion but obviously sleeping. That, however, was not the sight that knocked the wind out of the count.

The sight was that of you carefully cradling several tiny, whining fur balls in your lap, wrapped in a pillowcase.

“Puppies…” you mutter disbelieving to the man who collapsed in the doorway.

Melchior curled himself around your right side, flush against you so he could reach the puppies you held. Dutifully licking each one and making sure they could cry.

Suddenly Lucio was light-headed.

All the building stress and sadness from the months Mercedes had been “sick” suddenly left him. The weight releasing him was so euphoric he swore he could’ve floated away. You almost looked like you were glowing as you cleaned each little pup and placed them by their mother to nurse.

“Puppies…” Lucio repeated you softly, it was all his mind would say.

0Four.

He thought he’d lost his two best friends but instead, he gained four furry little jellybeans. Beautiful coats were already as soft as silk. Big mismatched eyes and even bigger paws. Mercedes woke healthy and happy a few hours after her ordeal was over and Lucio was immediately by her side to cuddle her and shower her with affection.

He had been so scared and so convinced it was the end. In his head, he’d built it up to be the death of everything he loved and the culmination of all his mistakes. Yet in the end, it was only the birth of something beautiful. Literally.

You had taken a liking to a particular puppy, the second one born. His curiosity was only trumped in cuteness by his folded ears. Lucio watched the little fur ball climb clumsily over your shoulders and through your hair, long nose nudging into everything it could reach. You must’ve noticed him looking so you fix him with a stare, carefully untangling the pup from your hair.

“Shouldn’t you go tell Nadia there’s gonna be more dogs running around?” you ask, chuckling as the disoriented, floppy eared boy wobbles away.

“I can’t go anywhere, I’m a father now.” He responds with the utmost seriousness, one puppy in each hand and the third climbing up his chest. Mercedes snorts in a way that could’ve been interpreted as laughter, Melchior follows unnecessarily close behind the floppy-eared puppy as he hobbles across the bedspread.

0End notes:

Nadia wasn’t being a dick by not letting Lucio hire a vet. She knew Mercedes was fine and just wanted to see Lucio suffer a little. As we all do.

[izukillme-moved]

When Armour Breaks

@watcher-ofthe-sky guess who was your secret santa? ;) MERRY CHRISTMAS YOU WONDERFUL BEAUTIFUL PERSON!! I LOVE YOU!!!! When I got the assignment, I have to admit I spent nearly fifteen minutes just freaking out because I was so happy I got you :33 I loved writing every bit of this, and I hope you enjoy it! May you have the most wonderful year ahead, I love you so much, Sky. Your talent, kindness and limitless capacity to love always stuns me; you are truly one of the most fantastic people I’ve ever had the honour of meeting. <3

Title: When Armour Breaks Ship: Kagura x Erza Genre: Angst/Hurt/Comfort Word count: 2302

Erza Scarlet is used to responsibility.

She knows well the feeling of being looked to for leadership and for power. She is used to stepping up when no one else will and protecting those who cannot protect themselves. She is the face of Fairy Tail, the impassable Titania, the Queen of the Fairies. Her shoulders have borne the weight of duty for so long now that it is odd, almost, to step back and allow another to take the lead.

In short, Erza is no stranger to projecting bravery and strength.

But sometimes, it becomes too much for even her iron heart. Because that iron heart is all fragmented on the inside, ugly little shards of bent steel that sit rusting in the darkness that lives within Erza. Some days she has trouble getting out of bed, barely able to breathe, as if all the broken parts of her heart are clogging up her trachea and cutting into her windpipe.

Today is one of those days.

Erza swallows against the pain in her chest and forces her body out of the bed that’s too large for just one, moving sluggishly to the bathroom. The woman she sees in the mirror has dull and lifeless brown eyes, frizzy red hair that jumps out all over the place and a wan, pinched face that speaks of years of pain. It makes Erza recoil a little, seeing the harsh truth reflected back at her so starkly.

The ache in her heart builds, and suddenly she wants… well, she doesn’t know what she wants. Only that she wants – needs – a reprieve from this wounded, broken girl she refuses to let heal.

There is no time for healing, Erza tries to tell herself, summoning the stern Titania of Fairy Tail. She needs to be strong for her guild mates and for the rest of the world, because they depend on her. And yet, the image of Fairy Tail’s strongest Mage fails, replaced by the wretched young woman with eyes that have seen too much.

Erza wants to retch. She wants to run away from the mirror, wants to bring Titania back out and put Inner Erza back where she belongs, inside the iron cage that is her heart. But she doesn’t do either of those things, because exhaustion chooses that exact moment to begin gnawing at her soul and weakening her at the knees.

Maybe she will just go back to bed today, she thinks in a sudden and uncharacteristic flash of weakness. The guild will not collapse in on itself if she is absent for a single day.

Well, it might, but that’s a problem she can fix. Just… not today. Erza doesn’t think she can fix anything today.

She drags herself back to her warm and soft bed, the task itself taking an enormous amount of effort. Then she flops down onto the surface, cheeks fevered with equal parts frenzy and fatigue, and stares at the ceiling. Some of the plaster is cracking off of it, she notices. A self-deprecating chuckle passes her lips as her tired mind compares the plaster to herself.

“You’re tired of being strong, too, huh?” she asks sadly.

She receives no answer, of course. Sighing, Erza rolls over so she’s lying on her front, and buries her face in the pillow. An odd hollowness settles in her stomach, and her chest is heavy with weariness. At the same time she feels like the rusted pieces of her heart are tearing her apart from the inside out, and the pain is almost too much to bear. It’s an odd juxtaposition, pain and the lack of it. And yet both are equally hurtful, ripping Erza into little pieces that she’s too tired to put back together.

I can’t do this anymore, Erza thinks, and is surprised at the raw honesty in the thought. I’m so tired… so tired of being the rock…

Why do I have to be strong for everyone else?

They’ll break if she breaks, Erza knows. She is the strong one, the one who leads, the one who takes on the most challenges and comes out on top. She is infallible Erza Scarlet, who cannot afford to snap because she is the symbol of everyone’s hope.

And yet even infallible Erza Scarlet is riddled with cracks that widen every minute, weakening her stone foundation. She is a broken woman pretending to be powerful, pretending to have won the fight against her inner demons when in reality she threw in the towel long ago.

A knock resounds throughout Erza’s apartment, and she stiffens, stomach tightening with panic.

What if something’s happened?! Oh, God, I never should have taken the day off – I should have gone – this is all my fault!

She springs out of bed in an instant, fear fuelling her flight to the door. She throws it open, chest heaving with worry as she stares at the visitor.

Kagura Mikazuchi stands there, cool as a cucumber, dressed in a  casual turtleneck and blue jeans, a far cry from her usual formal coats. Her sword, Archenemy, still hangs sheathed at her hip, of course – Erza wouldn’t expect anything less. She’s carrying a large white bag, whose contents are obscured from Erza’s eyes.

“May I come in?” Kagura asks politely, straight and to the point like always. Erza’s mouth opens, but no words come out. She simply nods and steps aside to allow Kagura in, speechless in her shock.

“I – what are you doing here?” she manages to croak out as Kagura walks into her home, stopping awkwardly in the middle of the hall and looking around.

Kagura turns to her. “May I put this on your table?” she asks respectfully, avoiding the question.

“Yes, yes, put it wherever, answer my question first!” Erza snaps. Kagura remains silent, moving slowly and robotically to place her bag on the dining table.

Then she looks up, connecting hers and Erza’s gazes, and says in a soft, mildly embarrassed tone, “I was passing through town and dropped by the guild to visit you. I was informed however that you were absent, and the shirtless one said that it might be ‘one of your days’ - whatever that meant, I didn’t think it sounded good by his facial expression, so I… er… procured your address-” Erza has to stifle a snort at the delicate way Kagura says ‘procure’, implying exactly how much delicacy she’d exercised in the process, “-and came here to check how you were. No one should be alone on Christmas Day.”

A sudden and uncomfortable silence falls over the two of them, then, both having run out of things to say. Kagura shifts in place, clearly self-conscious, and Erza just stands there in her dishevelled night-pants with her hair askew and feels the tiredness crawl its way back up her spine. She doesn’t realise that her knees have given out until warm arms wrap around her waist and pull her upwards to lean against a supple but firm body. 

A furious blush colours Erza’s cheeks as she realises she’s putting most, if not all, of her weight on Kagura, who had moved almost too swiftly to catch her. 

“I-” she stammers, jerking away and forcing strength into her legs, willing herself to stand strong just that little bit longer. She can’t let someone like Kagura see how weak she truly is; she simply can’t. She has to project Titania, just a little longer.

But Kagura is already shaking her head, eyes alert and worried. “You don’t seem all right. Will you be able to make your way to the bedroom? But no… I can’t let you do that.”

Before Erza can protest, Kagura’s powerful arms are slipping around her waist once more, and then she feels air against her bare soles instead of ground because holy shit, Kagura’s got her in a bridal lift and is carrying her towards her bedroom.

Erza flails weakly, but Kagura’s stern gaze saps what little energy she has left, and she can’t even summon the strength to protest as the other Mage deposits her neatly on her large bed. She lies there limp and still, not even bothering to straighten her legs or shift into a more comfortable position.

Erza is so tired, too tired to care anymore. Too tired to even care about the fact that all her weakest points are on full display to a Mage who looks up to her more than anyone ever has.

But Kagura does not comment. She merely shifts Erza’s limbs into their proper positions and drapes the coverlets over her with surprising gentleness. Then she takes off her shoes and lies down on the bed next to Erza, turning on her side to face her. 

Kagura’s precise perfection is so at odds with the mess that Erza is right now, and yet she fits, somehow, as if she was always meant to be there.

“Are you well?” she asks Erza, and the inflection of her tone carries understanding and the same bitter taste of responsibility that Erza knows all too well. Kagura is not asking if she is sick, not really.

“I’m tired,” Erza says, a soft and sad sound that escapes her lips like the last breath of life leaving her chest. It’s a confession she’s never made to anybody, and the tense, anticipatory wait for Kagura’s response is almost too much to bear. 

“I understand,” Kagura says softly. There’s a familiar pain in her voice as she speaks, and just for a moment one can feel a fleeting touch of hollowness inside the iron goddess that Kagura is.

The wildly unexpected reply sends chills up Erza’s spine, chills of shock and realisation that maybe, maybe she isn’t alone in this after all. 

“Y - you do?” she asks softly, afraid that if she says it too loud something will shatter, turning on her side to face Kagura. 

A short bob of the chin in response. “You’re their strength,” Kagura replies just as quietly. “You are their light in the darkness. But even a candle can only burn for so long.”

Erza’s eyes brim with tears, and she presses her lips together.

You understand. I’m not alone.

“Sometimes, it’s all you can do to stay together and keep your composure. It feels like you’re trying to hold a broken glass together and it just goes on breaking in your hands until you’re left with useless shards and cuts all over your palms,” Kagura continues, her own eyes shimmering and voice trembling with emotion. “It’s so hard, Erza… and you are so brave.”

Erza sniffles. “I’m not,” she says in a choked voice, the tears spilling over. Through her blurry vision she sees Kagura’s mouth turn up in a sad smile.

“Yes, you are,” Kagura says and wipes her tears with warm and gentle hands. She pulls Erza into a hug, holding her against her shoulder, and murmurs, “It’s all right. You don’t have to be strong for me.”

That sentence is what breaks the dam. 

You don’t have to be strong for me.

For once in her life, she does not have to be strong for someone. For once in her life, they will be strong for her.

Erza bursts into sobs, loud cries of agony and pain, letting all of it out as Kagura cradles her. She weeps for what feels like days, reliving all the pain that has her so torn up on the inside, allowing herself to truly grieve. 

When the tears dry up, Erza pulls away from the embrace, snuffling a little still. 

“Oh,” she says in a thick tone, voice hoarse from crying. “I got your shirt all messy.”

Kagura smiles. “It’s all right,” she says. “That’s what I’m here for.” 

Erza nods, too exhausted to do anything but accept Kagura’s kindness.

“Thank you,” she whispers. It’s gratitude for more than just letting her cry - not in all her years has Erza ever bared her soul to anyone like this. And Kagura has accepted all of it, taken all the broken parts and looked upon them with a loving gaze, as if they were the rarest and most precious diamonds in the world. 

Everyone else sees Erza as what she is, and cannot fathom her losing her grip even for a second. Kagura sees Erza as who she is, and wholeheartedly receives the weakness with the strength, the pain with the love, the sorrow with the joy. 

“You’re welcome. Merry Christmas.” Kagura replies, and Erza can see in her eyes that she truly means it. The soft relief that breaks over her when she sees Kagura’s unconditional love for her damaged self feels like a balm, soothing every wound she’s left open over the years.

“Yeah, you too,” Erza whispers. Fatigue washes through her once more, but this is a good weariness, one that makes her want to sleep and wake rejuvenated rather than lie like a zombie in her bed. She yawns, and Kagura smiles.

“Sleep,” she says. “I’ll be here when you wake up.”

Erza nods tiredly, and her eyes are closing before she knows it. Kagura drapes the covers over her once more, brushes her hair out of her face with tender fingers.

And she isn’t sure if she’s imagining the next part, but for a minute it almost feels like there are soft, warm lips on hers, a sweet promise that their owner will stay as long as she needs. The sensation is gone within a few seconds, though, and Erza falls fully into dreamland, slumbering peacefully for the first time in over a year. 

Her dreams are filled with the dark-haired woman who has loved all of her, even the damaged parts, and it brings contentment to Erza’s broken heart at long last. 

[marvellous-fangirl]

Undercover

You and Steve go undercover on a mission, but it gets compromised

Oneshot

Word Count: 2,760

Pairings: Steve x Reader

Warnings: Fluff, UncomfortableWithRomanticEmotions!Steve

A/N: This has to be one of my favourites ngl

Y/N collapsed into a chair in the briefing room, yawning. “So remind me why we’re up at 6am?” She stretched. “We’ve located a major Hydra scientist.” Began Fury. “He has highest level clearance in their facilities and we need to capture him to find out what he knows, but also to allow us to infiltrate the base.” Heads nodded. “But surely the areas that require highest level clearance will have high security measures?” asked Steve. “There are retinal scans, voice recognition, and three different guard stations to verify ID.” Replied Fury. “How are we going to infiltrate the base when none of us look like him?” added Natasha. “We’ll use his pass to forge a new one. We’ll also hack into the Hydra systems to add retinal and vocal data. Parker, I understand your friend is good with computers.” Peter’s eyes lit up and he nodded. “Mr Fury can I call him now?” Fury smirked slightly. “Sure kid.” Peter pulled his phone out of his pocket and dialled Ned’s number. “Hey Ned is anyone else there?” Y/N could hear the distant voice resonating from the phone. “No why? Peter is everything ok?” Ned hissed in the distance. “The Avengers want the Guy in the Chair!” Peter grinned. Y/N heard distant muffled screaming. “So I’ll take it he agreed.” Fury chuckled and Peter blushed slightly but returned the smile as he nodded. “Excellent. Now, the only way we can capture the scientist without Hydra being notified is to befriend him and lure him to a seemingly innocent event. Whoever goes undercover must have no contact with us and must be able to be perceived as a friend.” “Y/N should be a part of it.” Tony said and others nodded. “Ideally those who go undercover would be a feasible couple.” Fury added. All eyes turned to Steve, who turned slightly pink. “Sure I’ll do it.”

Y/N was packing her bags when Steve knocked on her door. Y/N looked up, hair flicking out of her eyes. “Hey Steve.” She smiled. “Hey Y/N.” He said, leaning against the doorframe, arms folded. “I uh just wanted to check you’re alright with the whole uh couple thing.” Y/N laughed slightly. “Of course I am!” Steve smiled with relief at her words. “Okay.” “So what kind of couple are we anyway? Moving into our first apartment? Fiancés? Married?” She grinned, adding a wink to the last possibility. Steve flushed again and Y/N straightened up. “Are you sure you’re alright with this Steve?” “Huh? Oh yeah yeah I am.” He smiled. “How about we’re just getting our first apartment? Then we’re taking it slow.” Y/N smiled. “That sounds great.” Grinned Steve. 

Y/N pulled on her hoodie and slipped a ring onto her finger. She grabbed a box of her things and pulled her suitcase behind her. Y/N saw Steve and couldn’t help but to laugh. “What is it with you guys with wearing baseball hats under hoodies with sunglasses when you’re supposed to be blending in?” She cackled. Steve looked mildly offended. “I want to hide my face!” He said, hurt. “People are more likely to look at your face if you’re wearing ridiculous clothes like that.” Y/N giggled and Steve frowned. “Oh come on at least take the sunglasses off.” She grinned, nudging him playfully. He smiled and rolled his eyes as his slid the sunglasses into his pocket. Fury stepped forward, ready to meet them. “Rogers, Y/L/N.” He nodded. “We have provided you with furniture to make the move in more realistic. There is also a car which you will drive to the location. The scientist lives on the same floor as you just down the hall. You’ll know who he is. Good Luck. You have a year. I hope it won’t have to last that long but you must do whatever is required.” The pair nodded. “Can we say goodbye to everyone before we go?” Y/N asked and Fury chuckled. “Of course. I’m not a monster.” 

Y/N stepped out of the car with her box and slipped her hand into Steve’s who pulled a large suitcase behind him with ease. Steve smiled down at Y/N as they walked up to their new apartment together and Y/N tried not to grin. As they unlocked the door and stepped inside, Steve pulled his hand out of Y/N’s a little too quickly as he stepped over to the new furniture provided by Fury and he went through to the bedroom. “We’re sharing a bed.” Steve said, coming back to the main room and sitting on the sofa next to Y/N. Y/N smiled. “Is that alright with you?” Steve hesitated. “Uh yeah if you are.” Y/N rested her head on his shoulder. She could feel how tense his muscles were but he put his arm around her shoulders and he relaxed slightly. Y/N smiled to herself as he turned on the new TV. 

A knock on the door interrupted their entertainment and Steve got up to greet the visitor. Y/N was watching from the sofa. Three people were standing there, evidently their new neighbours. “Welcome to the building!” Said a young man with a handsome moustache. “Thank you!” Steve grinned. “I’m Sam and that’s Natasha over there.” Y/N smiled and waved from the sofa. The trio leant around Steve’s large figure to get a better look at her and they waved in return. “We were wondering if you would want to come to a welcome party to help you get to know everyone in the building?” A middle aged lady asked. Y/N had gotten up from the sofa and wrapped her arms around Steve’s waist, hugging him from the side. “We’d love that.” She smiled looking up at Steve, who leaned down and kissed her forehead. “You two are cute.” The lady said. Y/N chuckled. “We think we are.” She smirked and Steve laughed with the others. 

Steve was waiting for her by the door and Y/N grabbed her bag as she slipped her hand into his once again. She smiled softly. “Shall we go then?” Steve grinned and they made their way to the apartment. They were greeted by many faces and conversation was easy. They nailed their characters’ stories down to a point and there was no sense of doubt whatsoever. The pair had also done extra research the night before so they would be prepared for questions. Part way through the welcome wagon, Steve and Y/N shared a look that clearly said that they were happy with how well the night was going. They were talking about some things that they needed for the conversation, when a thin, greasy man introduced himself. “I don’t believe we’ve met.” He smiled, holding out his hand, his British accent thick. Y/N shook it, a friendly smile on her face and Steve grinned and took his hand enthusiastically. “My name is Tobias Meade.” “It’s so nice to meet you! I’m Natasha and this is Sam.” She smiled. Steve grinned. “Is that a British accent I detect?” He asked and the man chuckled. “Indeed it is. I grew up in Hampshire.” Y/N smiled and nodded. “And then I studied in London and moved here three years ago.” “What did you study?” Y/N asked. “Oh you know. This and that. Science mainly.” “Sounds fascinating. Anything specific or is it government secrets?” She winked and the man shifted uncomfortably. Y/N realised she may have made a mistake. “Ah well you could say that.” The man mumbled before disappearing into the groups of people. Y/N groaned. “I just blew it, didn’t I.” Steve hugged her and put on a laugh. He leant down to whisper in her ear. “We’re fine I promise you.” He kissed her forehead then hesitated. “Are you ok with me doing that?” He asked and Y/N laughed genuinely. “Of course I am.” She chuckled and she leant into the super soldier for another hug. 

“What’re you doing Steve?” He snapped the sketchbook shut. “Nothing.” Y/N raised an eyebrow. He got up from his armchair and clearly went to hide it. He came back and sat down next to Y/N on the sofa. Y/N snuggled under his arm and she felt his muscles tense then relax. He played with her hair and she smiled slightly. Steve slouched down and Y/N repositioned her head onto his chest. He put his legs up on the coffee table and Y/N rested hers on top of his. She looked up at him to see a soft smile on his face. She grinned. Both of their breathing gradually grew heavy and they eventually fell asleep. 

Y/N stirred slightly as Steve carried her through to the bedroom. He laid her on her side of the bed and pushed the hair out of her face, before placing a light kiss on her forehead. He sat down on the other side, causing Y/N to roll slightly into the middle. He lay down, distributing his weight more and Y/N smiled to herself as his arm tentatively wrapped around her waist. 

Y/N felt Steve sit up on the edge of the bed as the sun leaked through the blinds. She rolled over to watch him. His head was in his hands. “Steve you alright?” She asked. He jumped slightly before turning to look at her. He scanned her face before smiling. “I’m great.” He said and Y/N smiled tiredly. He lay down next to her. “How about we go and explore this neighbourhood then.” It was her turn to study his face now. He looked stressed and tired, yet somehow also relaxed. She didn’t push into that though and nodded instead. They got up to get dressed. Steve had pulled on his trousers and was looking for a top when he turned a bright shade of pink because he turned around to see Y/N standing in jeans and a bra. His eyes widened and he spun around to face away from her, burying his face in his hands. “Steve?” Y/N asked. Steve turned and saw that she still hadn’t put a top on and flushed an even deeper shade. Y/N giggled and tackled him into a hug, the skin to skin contact sending shocks up and down Steve’s body. 

Y/N and Steve walked hand in hand through the mall, Y/N swinging their arms back and forth playfully. Y/N leant into Steve, pointing at mannequins in the windows. He chuckled when she criticised clothing and was pulled into multiple shops and asked for opinions. Steve insisted on buying her a small star necklace that she couldn’t stop looking at and she thanked him repeatedly throughout the day. 

As they were walking, Steve’s arms laden with bags, Y/N spotted Tobias and waved. She could feel Steve’s grip tighten on her hand but she didn’t show that in her face. The scientist made eye contact, paused before smiling and beckoning the pair over to him. Y/N instantly dragged Steve with her, who stumbled but regained his footing. “Hey Tobias.” “Ah hello.” He replied, smiling slightly. “Natasha I was wondering if I could have your opinion on a few items.” He asked. Y/N nodded and smiled. “Of course!” Steve made to follow her. “Ah Sam. I was wondering if I could have Natasha’s opinion alone.” Y/N smiled and nodded. Steve hesitated unnoticeably for Tobias for a split second before breaking into a smile and nodding, clapping the British man on the shoulder, who flinched but smiled in return. Y/N followed the scientist into a store and over to a corner. She felt something sharp against her leg. “Do not look down.” Tobias murmured, pointing at shelves and then acting like he was asking her opinion. “Now turn to the Captain over there and wave reassuringly.” Y/N’s heart was pounding in her chest. She turned to Steve and waved with a smile, his worried stare flooded with relief. “I know who you are Y/L/N and if you want to make it back to your friends then you’ll do exactly as I tell you.”

Steve and Y/N had travelled back to their apartment that evening and when Steve awoke in the middle of the night, his arms instinctively searched for Y/N. He carefully reached over to the other side of the bed, only to find cold, empty bed sheets. His heart stopped and he sat bolt upright. He fumbled for the lamp and flicked it on, to see an empty bed, which had been abandoned hours ago. He leapt out of bed, tugging on a hoodie and he ran into the rest of the apartment, searching for Y/N but she wasn’t there. The front door was bolted from the inside so she couldn’t have left that way. He felt a cold breeze on the back of his neck and he looked to the window, which was open a crack. He rubbed his eyes and went back into the bedroom. He opened the wardrobe and pulled a trunk out of the base of it, causing the floor to shake with the weight of its impact. He unlocked and opened it, then started to change. 

Steve opened the window and took a small breath before jumping out of it, landing on his shield with a thud that knocked the air out of his lungs. He stood up, dusted himself off, then spoke into his comms. “Fury do you copy.” The line crackled for a few seconds before Fury’s deep voice responded. “Rogers I copy. We’re tracking her now.” Steve flexed his neck. “Steve we’ve found her.” Natasha’s voice spoke clearly into his ear. “Only six blocks north of you, but she’s moving.” Steve bolted in the given direction, not even bothering to respond. 

Steve ran into the middle of the road, not caring about the squealing of brakes, the complaints of car horns and the shouts of “Oh my God is that Captain America?!”. “Nat which car is it.” He half yelled, energy slowly seeping out of him, despite his super soldier form. “Black limo, second lane.” Steve pushed himself even harder, running as fast as he possibly could and soon he was running alongside the vehicle. He peered through the darkened windows and just about made out the figure of Y/N slumped unconscious in a corner. He shattered the passenger seat window and swung into the limo. He smashed the driver in the face, unclipped the man’s seatbelt and pushed the bleeding body out of the door after leaning across and opening it. He quickly clambered into the driver’s seat before the limo lost control and he sped away from the mess behind him towards the Avengers Compound. 

Y/N opened her eyes, then shut them immediately due to the bright white lights in the medical bay. She rubbed her eyes with one hand as they gradually adjusted and stretches, muscles screaming in protest. She looked down at her other hand, grasped in that of a super soldier, who was dosing in an armchair next to her bed. She smiled softly and squeezed his hand. Steve jumped and looked at his hand. Y/N watched his gaze dart up her arm, from her hand to her face. His face broke into a joyous and relieved smile. His eyes were slightly red and puffy.  “Y/N.” He breathed, holding her hand tightly within his. “You’re alright.” Y/N kept smiling.  “Of course I am.” She said. “Steve have you been crying?” She added, quietly. Steve avoided her gaze and nodded ever so slightly.  “I was so worried.” Steve whispered. Y/N brought her hand up to Steve’s cheek, where she wiped away a fresh tear with her thumb. Steve leant into her hand and she smiled. Fury stepped into the room.  “Y/N. I see you are awake. We need to debrief you as the mission failed.”  “That isn’t technically our fault.” Y/N replied with a smirk and Steve chuckled.  “Indeed.” Fury added. “I must say your acting was not at fault.”  “It wasn’t really acting.” Steve murmured, looking at Y/N, who’s sarcastic expression softened. Fury chuckled.  “I’ll leave you two lovebirds alone. We can debrief later.” He said, turning on his heel, leaving the pair blushing a bright shade of red. They then laughed and Steve kissed the palm of Y/N’s hand which was still against his cheek.  “Y/N... there’s something I need to.. uh.. tell you.”  “I think I can guess.”  “So do you want to... uh..”  “Fondue?” She grinned, bursting into laughter at Steve’s expression, who was making a mental note to never tell her anything ever.  “How about a date?” He suggested and she chuckled, pulling Steve into a long kiss.

[sexysilverstrider]

Exhausted Pining

 Astrals, she couldn’t feel her legs.  There were days that fatigue tightened the muscles in her body. There were days where pants of air became her source of breathing rather than the regular flow. But even those days Djeeta managed to hold on and move forward like nothing is wrong.  And then, there were days where fatigue had had enough of her.  Vision started to blur and break into two. Squeezing both eyes shut, she shook her head, only to gain regret as ache clawed her temple. “Ugh…” One hand pressed lightly onto her head. The soft thudding sounds of shoes against hard wood reminded her that she was safe inside the Grandcypher; at least she made it back to the ship.  Now all she needed to do was head back to her room.  Easier said than done, she soon feared.  “Well, well, well. What do we have here?”  Looks like there’s nothing easy about this at all, Djeeta soon rued.

 The all too familiar voice lulled too close to comfort beside her. Her body still ached, still cried for the feel of soft bed in her room. A low groan peeped just the slightest from tightly pursed lips.  As for Belial, he concluded the sound akin to something of sheer, disgusting acceptance. “It seems you’re a little worn out, Singularity.” Hands on his hips, Belial bent closer to her face. “Did lil ol’ Sandy get you so worked up? I see your legs are shaking.” White teeth gleamed menacingly at the scornful skyfarer. “Is that sweat between your legs? Or…do I see a trickle of something thicker the more you shake?”  If it wasn’t for the fact that she was so agonizingly exhausted, she would swing one fist to his face right now.  Brown eyes shot a deadly glare at a pair of reds. Dizzy as she may be, Djeeta could perfectly make up the sharp shape of his dangerous face. “There was…” Her voice ragged, wheezed just the slightest, “…a primal beast that went loose a few days ago…” Ugh, even her throat felt sore. The Captain tried to shake her head, but the intention stopped short when she remembered what happened the last time she did that.  “I’m just—tired.” Truly, she didn’t have time to deal with him right now. Nearly a week of handling a stakeout, only to then deal with a powerfully furious primal beast really did take a toll on her physically and mentally.  Laughter beamed disgustingly in the bright blue skies.  “Oh, you poor thing.” Not a twinge of guilt trickled his tone at such a guiltless laugh. “Was the beast too big for you to handle? No wonder you’re shaking.” One hand lightly tapped his lower, red lip. “Next time, you should start with something smaller, though wider in girth, I might add.”  Gods above, she wished she had even the tiniest bit of strength to slap his mouth off his face.  A deep breath was taken. A deep sigh was exhaled. “Bye Belial.” She wanted to get out of here. She needed to get out of here. As much as she actually found it enjoyable about the fallen angel’s shitty remarks, her drained body and mind truly made her irritated by his presence alone.  Without a word, though mildly aware of his stupid smirk, Djeeta moved forward.  Or at least, that’s what she thought. ---  “Oop.”  With swift moves and a quick mind, Belial easily caught her falling body with one arm.  Did she get smaller? He wondered.  Right arm draped under her stomach, Belial stretched his left hand and held her shoulder. Indifference outlined every inch of his face as he turned her. The Singularity’s head tilted backward, which he then slid the same hand to the back of her head for support.  She was alive; the first thing that came into his mind was that.  Funny, he laughed a little.  Crimson eyes scanned her body from head to toe. Bits of blood and dirt marked her armour and skin. A single whiff was all it took for the Primal to confirm that the blood on her wasn’t actually hers.  Very funny, he found himself amusing.  Her breathing was steady, albeit a bit slow. Her heartbeat was normal, though chest heaving slightly. One hand still on the back of her head and on her back, Belial leaned closer.  She looked fragile, small.  He knew she was anything but.  The Singularity stirred lightly in his arms. Indifference flickered to amusement. Amusement sparked akin to something of an emotion he would not dare to perceive. With swift and nimble movements, Belial moved his hands and quietly carried her in his arms.  Her head tipped to his neck. Her nose and lips brushed against the warm surface of his skin.  He was slowly starting to find this not funny anymore.  “You better wake up, Singularity.” Huskily he whispered, tone dark and low as he lowered his head towards her. “Or else I’ll wake you up myself.” Distance dangerously close like the many times he had done to her, Belial gently bumped the tip of his nose against her forehead.  Her eyes were still closed.  Curiosity tweaked along indecency. His nose slid down between her eyes. Luscious lips hovered around her own. Warm breath caressed the corner of a pursed mouth. Her skin felt smooth, he noted. Despite the faint scars on her cheeks, her skin felt soft and plush with the caress of his nose. Not once did his gaze wander away. Each sight he took stuck deep inside his mind. Each scent he sniffed sent a knot inside his stomach.  Hunger lurched from within; Belial brought her closer.  This wasn’t getting funny for him.  Sharp teeth gritted inside a closed mouth, he calmly walked towards her room. ---  Once he reached inside her room, Belial soon realized that his sanity was near to snapping when he felt her nudge closer.  “Getting daring, are we?” Sharp teeth gleamed maliciously as he whispered on her forehead. Door kicked gently with one foot, the Primal walked towards her bed. Gently he placed her, hands then slid and caressed the side of her waist and cheek.  He didn’t want to lose the touch of her body. Not yet.  This slowly infuriated him, and he knew damn well why.  Upon feeling the magnificent feel of a soft mattress, Djeeta stirred and mumbled until her back sank cozily into it. Her head tipped slightly to the right. Pale pink lips then parted as air started to flow regularly from her.  He hated that he couldn’t take his eyes off her.  Why would he feel this way? When did he feel this way? Love was a mass of contradictions; he remembered saying that to the one person he loved and devoted to all his life. But as years and years passed by since she accepted him into her crew, Belial soon realized the feelings he had for his creator before were slowly passed down to the last person he wouldn’t dream of.  The pain was unbearable—worse, if nothing else.  She cared for him. He sourly remembered how she saved him from his anticipated doom. He wished to die, to finally rip this disgusting immortality if it meant being with the one he loved. But alas, it seems fate was his worst enemy as he was saved, as he was still alive.  She saved him. She was the first one to trust him. Distrust and doubt heavily lingered in the air of his presence. Even Belial knew that it would take a millennia for Sandalphon to trust him. In truth, the Supreme Primarch would rather have his head rolling down to the endless land below than to see him walking about as if he belonged in the Grandcypher.  He didn’t.  But she made him think that he did.  Ah, he despised this.  A tiny frown curled the edges of his lips.  3 years had passed. He wanted to betray her. To kill her. To avenge the sins she had shamelessly committed against him and his beloved. He wished so sorely to rip that smile off her face, to bite those lips and tear it mercilessly until blood spurted out like vile, bloated paint. He craved deeply to shove one hand into her stomach, to clutch her intestines and rip them out like strings of flesh.  All those years were perfect as he fooled her to gain his trust.  But, as the years passed by, Belial soon realized that he was the one who got fooled.  She took notice of him. She laughed at the countless innuendoes he had spurted at her. Though at first she either got flustered or angry after his brazen comments, it would seem that the Singularity got used to him so fast that now, every nasty remark he made whether it was about her or anyone, would be responded with a roll of her eyes or a laugh.  The latter was baffling when he first saw it.  He hated it.  He hated that she went to him when he got injured. He hated that she oftentimes came to him to check on his wellbeing, He hated that she gave him chocolate for Valentine ’s Day – 3 years in a row now without fail. He hated that she made him want to return the favor during White Day. He hated that she entrusted him on many missions, on trusting him to have her back. He hated that she would find time to talk to him, to be near him.  He hated that he now anticipated all those times alone with her.  He hated it. Hated it. He was meant to betray her. To take her life for another. He was supposed to tear her limbs apart, not hold her hands. He was supposed to choke out her screams, not bring out bubbles of laughter. He was supposed to rip her mouth apart, not crave for a warm, wet touch.  He was supposed to make her shriek in agony, not moan in needy, delicious pleasure—  Creak…  The faint sound brought him back to reality. Crimson eyes darted forward, realizing that his left hand had tightly clutched the sheet beside her head. Heavy breathing halted immediately in his lungs, for Belial quickly realized the position he had placed himself in.  There, leaning and towering above the sleeping Singularity, Belial remained frozen in his place.  She slept so peacefully. Slumber and fatigue knocked her cold despite the shift in weight of the mattress. The Primal stayed perfectly still, legs locked on the sides of her right leg. Shock rarely flashed his face, but now was one of the rare moments that it did. He didn’t know how it happened, how he had lost control of the reality around him.  Ah, he figured, gaze fixated on the sleeping person below him, it’s because of you.  Crimson eyes darted low to her nose, lower to her lips. Soundless sights brought him to her moving chest, to the tiny crack of her breasts that nuzzled cozily in the squeeze of her clothing.  A single gulp burned his throat.  “Wake up, Singularity…” His voice croaked, choked. “Or are you having such a wonderful dream without me?” His arms stiffened by the sides of her head. Body levelled a few inches above hers, Belial lowered until lips neared her left ear.  “What are you dreaming right now?” He hoped it was about him. “I wonder if I can make your dreams more pleasant…” He desperately hoped he invaded her mind.  Because fucking hell, she surely was invading his—  A hiss spat through clenched teeth at the sound of her sweet, soft moan.  Fingers curled to tight knuckles. “Singularity…” The nickname slurred heavily near her ear. “Singularity…” His lower hip arched and stilled. The hunger inside of him burned, flared, scorched madly with every sound of her breathing. Irises squeezed to slits, Belial brought his head up and lifted her chin with one hand.  His thumb caressed her lower lip. Inviting. Tempting. Putting fuel to the fire down south.  “Singularityyy…” The word heaved so faintly. “Singularity…” His breathing was warm with lust. Eyes were glued on her face, on her lips. Belial inched closer…“Wake up…” and closer…“Djeeta—”  The split second her name broke out of his waiting lips, he stopped immediately.  As if the name alone was a spell that broke the curse, Belial snapped back. Both hands pressed hard on the sides of her head. Both eyes hazed and sharpened at nothing in particular.  He then saw her.  He saw a tiny smile. Sincere. Loving. So filled with bliss he knew damn well he could never have.  Ah, turns out there was a far greater pain than losing his messiah.  In a blink of an eye, Belial jumped off her and stumbled a few steps back.  Minutes felt like hours for the Primal. He gaped and gawked as she slept so soundly. Heat still rushed through his body. Shivers still prickled every inch of his skin. The tightness in his pants ached for a touch – for her touch – but Belial was too preoccupied with bafflement to settle his desires.  His desires for her.  His desires for her love.  Ah, the pain was getting unbearable again.  And yet he smiled, then broke to a short, demeaning laugh. Both hands cupping his beet red face, he stared at the Singularity – at the captain, at the fragile mortal, at the only creature who accepted him.  How amusing.  Sliding one foot backwards, Belial limply slid his hand to where his heart bled.  How fucking amusing.  Face still burned a bright red, heart still pounding at the speed of sound, Belial turned around and stampeded his way to the door.  No reason… He chuckled bitterly, scornfully. No reason…  As one hand clutched the doorknob and whipped the door open, Belial quickly made a silent escape out of the bedroom.  No reason for me to deserve your love…  A single teardrop hit her bedroom floor before he left. END

[imagine-loki]

Seiðmaðr

TITLE: Seiðmaðr

CHAPTER NO./ONE SHOT: 4/? AUTHOR: goldtrimmedspectacle ORIGINAL IMAGINE: Imagine Loki is attacked and forgets his past. Now riddled with amnesia, Loki must decide whether to follow his mind and return his memories, or to follow his heart and find true happiness. RATING: PG13. Will go up in later chapters. NOTES/WARNINGS: Blood. Violence. Can be found on AO3.

There beneath the willow tree I learned a lot about the way of things I learned that everything (the wind, the leaves) has breath inside They were pointing ever east To see the ever-turning aeon cease Their wills were ever bent on waiting with all their might - Eurus, the Oh Hellos

CHAPTER FOUR

No-name remained silent after his vomiting spell, allowing you to rinse the bile from his hands and wipe his face down with a piece of cloth. Nor did he complain when you forced him to wash out the sour taste with a canister of water. Or when you forced him to chew a piece of white willow bark to calm his stomach.

His grimace left little to the imagination about such a bitter tasting snack.

The illusion you perceived was left for another day, when further questioning wouldn’t result in No-name’s sudden nausea and spittle.

“Bjarke, have we collected everything that is needed?”

No-name scowled as you forced another piece of bark into his hand.

The redheaded man appeared from under his horse, having just latched the last bag on to Stigr’s side, and patted the horse kindly on their rump. He smiled and scratched Stigr underneath his chin before walking towards yourself and your dark companion.

“Indeed, we have.” He wiped down his hands with a handkerchief and stuffed it back into his breast pocket. “I also have tied the bag of herbs and meat to Raoul’s saddle, which we will eat tonight – and remember what you promised me, dear fauntkin.”

Bjarke winked.

“Yes, I know. Rabbit stew. I remember quite clearly, greedy bear,” you jested and were gifted with a hearty laugh from Bjarke. His eyes still remained warily upon No-name, but at least his normal mannerisms were back and with a vengeance.

“Great. I think it best we start our journey then,” Bjarke chuckled once more and strode over to Stigr. He hopped onto the horse with ease and waited for you to do so in turn.

You greeted Raoul with a kiss to his nose and rubbed the top of his ears.

No-name trailed behind and watched as the dark horse nudged your shoulder excitedly.

“No-name, come here and meet Raoul formally,” you offered a hand to your companion, “Bjarke and I thought it best that you and I share Raoul on our way to town. He is the larger of our two horses and I am far lighter than Bjarke.”

No-name snorted at your comment.

“Besides, I am sure that we will have to share him merely for a few hours. But it is best if he becomes used to you before you suddenly start to ride him.”

You grabbed Raoul’s bridle and pulled the horse towards No-name, ensuring that if Raoul had a fit then at least he would not kick your newly healing ward.

“Hello Raoul,” No-name greeted the horse softly and you watched in bewilderment as the man and horse stared at each other for a good few seconds. It was Raoul who bent his head down first, eyes never leaving the man at your side, and he nudged No-name on his good shoulder. The man, in turn, scratched the horse’s ear and laughed, running his hands over Raoul’s mane and neck.

Your bewilderment turned to surprise.

“No-name, are you sure that you are not a horse whisperer, for I have never seen Raoul open up to anyone so quickly as he has to you.”

Raoul’s ears flicked at his name and turned back to lavish you with his affection instead, which caused you to giggle as he rubbed his face almost aggressively into your torso.

“I would not know,” your companion interrupted, “but I feel that I understand horses. Their body language is quite easy to decipher and it is common knowledge that horses prefer the ease of a person over the unease. Correct?”

You nodded and released Raoul’s bridle. Said horse nuzzled you once more and did the same to No-name.

“You are undoubtedly right, and I’m glad that you are able to understand him so well,” you smiled and walked towards Raoul side. “It makes it easier for me to get you from one destination to another,” you jested and clutched Raoul’s saddle. With a slight struggle, you pulled yourself up to lie across Raoul’s saddle and swung another leg over to straddle the leather seat.

Glancing back, you found No-name watching you with a large self-satisfied smirk. There lay the problem of your annoyance and joy, as you were glad that No-name was no longer struggling with his stomach troubles or his previous anger at the question of what words were stitched into his gloves, but, you were not exactly pleased that he had watched your struggle and merely stood there smirking.

“Oh, shut up.”

The injured man laughed and walked to the other side of Raoul, patting their body as he made his way around and hooked his hand onto the saddle. The ease he portrayed in sitting on the saddle was far too annoying, especially when he was obviously injured.

Your scowl was apparently too obvious as No-name laughed once more and slid forward so that his thighs were braced against your own, whereas his torso was kept a short distance away from your own as to prevent any unnecessary jolting of the healing bones.

“Oh hush, my dear healer. You act as if this isn’t a dream of yours,” No-name purred into your ear and settled a hand onto your hip. “A handsome man cradling you whilst riding such a magnificent beast – ”

“I will push you off. Undoubtedly. In fact, I will have Raoul buck you off. All of the above if you don’t behave.”

The man laughed once more and let his arm slide to cradle your stomach, which he used as a means of balance as Raoul began to walk and follow Stigr. No-name used this to his advantage as he leaned forward and continued talking.

“Your remarks are far too entertaining, little one. At this point, I fear that my comments will be merely to get such reactions.” His laughter did little to stifle your annoyance at such a proud and flirtatious man, but his own mischievous laughter was difficult not to join in with.

“Keep talking then,” you baited, “and I will make sure that both of your arms are broken.”

No-name chuckled once more and fell silent as the trees continued to pass by your trio of travellers. The view of nature seemed to settle your companion as he relaxed and let his hand loosen upon your stomach, eyes low and reflecting the different hues of leaves that formed a tunnel along the rocky path.

You were surprised to find a series of butterflies scattered amongst the leaves and some of the flowers that layered the forest floor. Especially as butterflies weren’t particularly well known in this region of Vanaheim.

A small handful of orange and yellow butterflies passed by Raoul calmly and one landed on No-name’s hand, causing him to flinch, and it fluttered back to its friends.

Slowing down, Bjarke and yourself watched as more butterflies flocked around the yellow flowers that dotted themselves between the decaying leaves on the sheet of grass and roots.

No-name peered over your shoulder and two yellow butterflies landed on his face and hair.

Bjarke laughed.

“It appears you have Frigga’s blessing, No-name.” The redheaded man grinned and let an orange butterfly land on his finger before it flew away once more. “Butterflies were created by the Allmother to allow everyone a little piece of happiness and to protect them from evil.”

No-name waved away the two butterflies from his being and you watched as both flew to land on a nearby bush.

A green butterfly gifted you a blessing as it landed on your leg, its wings spread wide and displaying the cat’s eye that had been painted on its wings at birth. It soon grew bored and left, leaving you and your companions to continue on your journey.

The rest of the voyage was mildly interesting with the new terrain and the waterfalls that could be discovered in the south-west regions of the forest, however by nightfall your back had grown tired and sore. You could feel No-name’s agitation and how certain bumps on the path caused him discomfort, as displayed through his cursing and uncomfortable shifting that knocked you forward ever-so-often. Therefore, you were glad when your trio arrived at the designated camp that Bjarke had marked on his map.

Raoul and Stigr allowed for you, No-name and Bjarke to disembark in the small alcove amongst the leaves and willow trees. The rushing water from a nearby river greeted your ears, along with the birds that had built themselves comfortable nests in the willow trees. It was beautiful and as you stood surrounded by the streams of sunlight and glowing bugs that resided in the south of Vanaheim, you questioned your beliefs on the legends of fae and nymphs of nature.

The shifting of hooves removed your attention from the willow leaves and churning water and allowed you to unload Raoul – ridding him of the heavy load that he carried on his back and flanks. The several mats on his side caused your knees to buckle slightly, having undone the belt keeping them in place and catching all four woven mats at once, and you tried to juggle all four whilst maintaining your own balance.

“As much as enjoy watching you falter by your own hand, this is almost embarrassing,” No-name tutted and grabbed the toppling mat from your hands. You kicked at his right heel, which he countered by side-stepping and lifting the mat onto his right shoulder with an exaggerated eye-roll.

“Unnecessary.” You grabbed the mat from his arm and pulled it back onto the three other mats juggled in your arms.

“Stubborn.”

You raised an eyebrow and grinned.

“Determined.”

No-name copied your smile.

“Foolish.”

You picked up a large cloth and tossed it at his face, laughing when the man spluttered and growled at your audacity. The manner in how he tore the fabric from his face only made you laugh louder as his eyes narrowed and teeth bared like a cat.

No-name seemed to find the humour in such action when he hurled the fabric back in your face.

The action ensued retaliation as you and the mischievous man tossed the fabric back and forth like children until you gave up, accepting that No-name had more perseverance than yourself. Evidently, after his obvious win, No-name assisted you with a few of the lighter bags, all out of the chivalry of his heart, you were sure, but stopped when you shooed him off in fear of his wounds. From thenceforth, he found himself a comfortable seat under the larger of weeping willows and proceeded to contribute by using his voice in second-hand assistance.

Revenge may be best served cold, but it was best presented on the honeyed tongue of a spiteful barmaid.

After his third remark, you tossed a nearby rock at his boot and forced him to form a fire pit away from the low-hanging branches. He seemed to frown at you when you threw a second stone at his leg, which Bjarke glared at you for, and stood to gather the nearby materials around your campsite.

It was another few minutes when all the materials had been unloaded and Bjarke began setting up the sleeping arrangement for the night, which consisted of three mats lined with thick blankets and bundled cloths in the rough shape of pillows.

He smiled when you patted his back in passing and found his hand to squeeze in a familiar gesture.

“All well, fauntkin?”

You nodded and smiled.

“All well, Bjarke.”

You continued on and joined No-name at the firepit with the sack of meat and the separate pouch of herbs. Settling on the ground next to the cursing man, you helped with scraping the wet bark off a few pieces of kindling and threw them into the base of the pit. No-name paused in his cursing and watched your technique, scanning the dagger in your hand with an odd fascination, which passed as quickly as it arrived. He continued with his chores silently.

You were quickly entranced by the procedure of cooking and pouring the meat into the frothing brew above the fire. No-name seemed fascinated by the process, which you found unusual as most men knew the basis of a simple stew, but took no further notice than asking for his assistance in the sprinkling of herbs and spices.

His eyebrows drew together and green eyes stared blankly at the leaves within the herbal pouch.

“Are you sure these are supposed to add nutrients to a meal?” He handed the pouch over. “Surely leaves can do little in giving us energy after a long ride, such as todays.”

“Well, they are not really used as a nutrimental factor of a stew,” you glanced at the confused man with a frown. “Herbs are used to give most foods more flavour, as are spices. I am not sure whether a handful of herbs would be extremely appetising by themselves, however,” you smiled with a wavering laugh.

No-name regarded you a moment longer and nodded.

“Did you really -?” - the man glanced up - “Did you really not know that herbs are used as flavour?”

He stared at you, eyes almost glazed over completely, but then a smirk coated his features and he took a pinch of the mixed herbs – flicking it into your face.

“Of course, I did. I am not a complete imbecile,” he gloated and flicked another pinch of herbs at your face. “However, I appreciate your means in educating me.”

You tore the pouch away from him and No-name laughed once more.

You finished the meal shortly after and ensured that No-name was nowhere near the herbs from thenceforth, which seemed to entertain the man enough that he made it his mission to sneak the pouch of herbs from your person for the next half hour. And then flick them into your face. Twice more. Separately.

Bjarke lumbered over when you began to serve up the stew into three wooden bowls.

“Rabbit stew, as promised,” you winked and gifted the larger man a hefty portion of the meal. He grinned when you produced a roll of bread from the last tavern you had visited.

“A delight as always.” He ruffled your hair and sat down near the fire – the flames flickering off his beard as a source of reflection and forming a fiery explosion across his beard and hair.

No-name stuffed his face as soon as the bowl reached his palms and tore into the bread like a savage, and you tried not to stare at his change from elegance and grace to a growling, starved animal. He was through his first bowl before you had even had the chance to sit down and finish your piece of bread. Much to your chagrin, you gifted him with two more bowls before Bjarke and yourself had finished your first serving. And Bjarke took one more when No-name took his last.

You shoved another canister of water in his direction once he finished, and looked away as he gulped the water down in an almost aggressive manner.

The stew and water had seemingly done the job in ridding the man of his energy, and No-name sat calmly whilst watching the fire as you and Bjarke cleaned the bowls. His eyes had grown drowsy but there still remained a glimmer of self-awareness and caution that came with travelling through thick forestry.

It was verging on uncomfortably silent when No-name interrupted.

“One more ride and we will be back in Sandnæs.”

You stopped cleaning.

“Yes, a few more hours on horseback and we will be in Sandnæs. How do you know this?”

The man in question withdrew his gaze from the flames and stared at you, unseeing and vacant like the first time he awoke in your presence. The green was dull and came across as dusty, crusted over by time, but it was all removed like a layer of wax or bronzer had graced his pupils. His eyes fluttered and No-name cringed for a moment, hand held to his head as a flicker of pain traced his cheeks but then faded.

“I –,“ he liked his lips. “I recognise the journey we are taking. It is to Sandnæs. The town known for its metal works in Vanaheim, right?”

Bjarke collected the bowls and sat across from No-name.

“You have no recollection of your life.”

No-name nodded cautiously.

“But you remember this route?”

No-name’s resolve hardened and his posture stiffened at the beginning of Bjarke’s accusation.

“I’ll have you know – “

“This shows that your lapse in memory is only temporary, I am sure. Or at least, I am as sure as a travelling goldsmith could be.” Bjarke grinned and you nudged his arm, noticing the snide pride layered upon his lips.

“I am quite sure you will remember your past soon, no worries.”

No-name’s posture relaxed mildly and nodded stiffly.

“Thank you.”

Bjarke rose and patted the man’s shoulder in a sense of comradery, despite how No-name stiffened at the larger man’s hand on his person.

“Well, I am off to bed. Please keep the noise down, dear fauntkin,” he teased and pressed a kiss to your crown, “You are very loud when excited and I can not sleep a wink with you tittering in the background.” He ruffled your hair despite your complaints and smiled once more at No-name.

“And I wish you a good night also, No-name. Sleep well.”

“As you.”

Bjarke left with another wave and left you and No-name by the campfire as it slowly began to die. No-name had apparently become very comfortable where he sat, arm bandaged tightly to his chest and now fully-clothed and well-fed. Bjarke’s snores soon accompanied the sound of small insects and curious nocturnal creatures as his eyes drooped, allowing a sense of calm to wash over your person as your eyes echoed his own.

“My gloves.”

Your eyes opened once more.

“What about them?”

No-name rubbed his thumb over the ridges of his fingers.

“You asked about the message inside of them.”

Your sense of curiosity had awakened, but your mind still slumbered on.

With a hum, you shifted.

“Yes, but you did not like me asking.”

No-name shifted, mirroring your position like a cat, hoping to convey their trust towards another.

“Would you like to know?”

You frowned.

“But you did not tell me before.”

No-name seemed to stop and rethink his words as he rubbed his fingers together.

“Yes, but now I am tired and visibly more open for emotional discussion.” He smiled lightly. “I blame your stew.”

You laughed and nodded, yawning.

“Yes, please. I could not understand the language stitched into the cuff, but it was very fine thread and golden. So, it must mean someone of importance, or at least someone who regarded you with a level of importance, embroidered that message into your gloves as a means to convey their affection for you.”

No-name smiled softly; the sides forced down to form a weepy grin.

���Yes. It appears so.” He smiled at the floor. “The message is actually a message of departing. Left by my mother.”

“Oh,” your tongue felt heavy with sleep. “Does it have any hints to your life prior to our encounter?”

“No, sadly not.” No-name frowned and tucked his knees up, watching the fire a little longer. The silence grew as he watched the flames with eyes laden heavy with exhaustion and worry.

“Would you – Would you like to read the message to me?”

No-name lifted his head and hesitated, mouth open and forced into a defensive frown. The frown changed to a scowl then a line – borderline neutral.

“Yes. I would appreciate it.”

You nodded and watched as he withdrew the gloves from his pocket, flipping the cuff of his right-hand open. There was a glimmer of vulnerability as he began to read the message and even without his memories, you were sure that No-name felt deeply for his mother and her compassion.

“For my darling son,” his voice caught, “shall you be safe even in the most dire of consequences, and may your silver tongue never turn to lead when in danger. Whilst your soul may carry a catacomb of doubts and fears, know that my love and admiration forever remains in the light you bring, my dear neolate. I love you and wish for your return to be soon. Your dearest mother.”

The man lay his gloves back down and watched the fire a moment longer.

He spoke no more words.

“Neolate?”

No-name looked at you with a frown.

“Like a baby snake. The word neolate means baby snake.” You smiled warmly. “Your mother sees you as her hatchling. Neolate.”

A small smile grew on No-name’s face.

“So she does.”

“It’s endearing.”

The man chuckled.

“I suppose so.”

Your brain flashed back to the image of No-name with viper-like eyes. Ready to pounce and kill. Staring at you with no feeling – like you were just another piece of meat for its next meal. Angry and full of prowess.

The image vanished and was replaced by No-name smiling once more.

“Well then, what about Ormr?”

“Ormr?” The man looked at you, confusion etched in his brow.

“Yes. Ormr for snake,” you explained. “A name away from home. A nod to your life before your passing amnesia, which I am sure will clear up soon.”

The smile upon No-name’s face seemed to freeze and his eyes grew icy.

It passed once more.

“I – ” he coughed into his hand and nodded. “Yes, I quite like Ormr. I would much prefer it over the title ‘No-name’, rest assured.”

The easy-going smirk plastered on the man’s features did little to remove the passing glance of inner turmoil inside his being.

“Alright then, Ormr,” you rose and held out a hand. “I believe we should rest before we travel into town tomorrow. Best to look somewhat presentable amongst other folk rather than just the horses.”

“Oh, I don’t know. I believe the horses are the best company I could ask for.”

You grinned and pulled Ormr from the floor.

“They will be your only company if you don’t go to sleep and allow our trio to arrive back in civilisation tomorrow.”

Ormr’s laugh echoed through the willow trees and you heard a mutter of complaint come from Bjarke’s direction.

“Shush, you oaf.”

He only laughed harder.

__

Ormr - translation for snake, pronounced: Or-mour

[emovirgil-sanders]

Main Summary: Virgil is a Human who is interested in the supernatural. He researches and looks for supernatural beings, unaware that some of his closest friends are exactly what he’s looking for. His friends have to keep him from learning their secrets.

Prologue - Chapter One (You are here) - To Be Continued

Chapter Summary: Virgil ends up in trouble. Logan and Roman show their true forms to save him.

Warnings: religion mention, angels, demons, hellhounds, hell/underworld mention, death of non-major-character beings

Word Count: 1,422

A/N: I still don’t have a title for this. But, I am enjoying writing this. And I wrote this all in one day, which I think is pretty good. But, that also means excuse any errors because I haven’t really looked this over. And, another note, I cannot write action scenes, so I apologize if the one here is a little.. bland or quick.

Taglist: @pattons-cat-hoodie , @waffledeath , 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ CHAPTER ONE ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

“Come on, slowpoke, get over here!” Roman called when he noticed Logan trailing behind. Logan sighed, pushing up their glasses before walking over to Roman and the others.

“You are going to hurt yourself up there.” They spoke as they watched Roman climb across a pile of scrap metal.

“Roman, get down, please.” Patton practically begged, using his puppy eyes on Roman, who sighed before jumping back down onto solid ground.

“Come on, we have all night to explore this building. Let’s get started.” Virgil says, already having written a paragraph of notes in his book.

Virgil lead the way into the building, Patton following on his heels. Logan still held back, catching Roman’s arm as they both went into the building.

“I have a bad feeling about this.” Logan hissed quietly as they looked over at Roman.

“You get a bad feeling about everything.” Roman shot back with a roll of his eyes. Logan huffed.

“No, I mean, it’s a Virgil sort of bad feeling.” Logan spoke, jerking his head in Virgil’s direction.

“Well, it’s not /my/ job to protect him, now, is it?” Roman huffed this time, crossing his arms over his chest.

“It’s not my fault you fell because you got caught up in your feelings.” Logan spoke lowly, glaring at Roman. Roman gasped in return, looking mildly offended.

“Excuse you for not realizing true love!”

“You can’t love a human and you know that.” Logan hissed, attempting to keep their voice low so Virgil wouldn’t hear.

Speaking of Virgil though..

Logan glanced around the area, his eyes wide as he realized Virgil was nowhere in sight. Patton was across the room, looking over something shiny he had found on the floor.

“Patton? Where did Virgil go?” Logan questioned, mild panic in their voice.

Patton’s head shot up and he glanced around for a few moments before looking back at Logan.

“I don’t know.” He spoke simply, making Logan groan and push up their glasses in order to rub the bridge of their nose.

“I take my eyes off of him for two seconds and he vanishes!” Logan exclaims, quickly shifting forms, which revealed their pure white wings and robes, as well as a golden sword at their belt. They spread their wings and took off down the halls, searching for Virgil.

It took Logan only a few moments to find Virgil, who had been cornered in a room by three large dogs. Hellhounds, Logan realized, was what they were. Like ordinary dogs, but twice the size, each with sharp fangs for teeth.

Roman followed Logan into the room a moment later, his ash black wings spread out behind him and his dark katana already in hand.

“Caecus!” Logan yells, holding out a hand in Virgil’s direction. The human’s eyes turn white and he slumps back against the wall behind him. Their yelling caught the attention of the hellhounds and one lunged at Logan while the other two darted for Roman.

Logan unsheathed their sword and cut back the beast that tried to attack them, keeping an eye on Virgil to make sure he was safe.

“Logan! A little help would be nice here!” Roman called, attempting to fend off the two hellhounds that had pounced on him. Logan grumbled before running over to slash down the hellhounds.

Patton ran into the room as he heard the yelp of one of the hounds, gasping at the sight.

“You didn’t have to kill them!” Patton exclaimed, running over to one of the hounds, cradling it in his arms and stroking the fiery fur.

“They were going to kill Virgil.” Logan stated, sheathing their sword.

“Than call me in! I could’ve calmed them..” Patton pouted, looking down at the hound sadly.

“Just.. Take them back to the underworld..” Logan sighed before glancing over at Virgil and pausing at the sight they saw.

~ Meanwhile ~

Virgil clutched the wall behind him, his breathing heavy and hard. He didn’t understand what was happening. First, these fiery dogs had appeared before him- and while that was cool, it was also rather terrifying. Then, when they had begun to approach him, he had heard someone yell something in another language and then his vision had gone dark and his limbs went weak. Virgil heard the growl of the hounds and the sounds of a fight happening around him, but nothing hurt him. Then-

“Logan! A little help would be nice here!” Logan was here? What was he- shit, they doing here? What was even happening?

A minute or so later, Virgil slowly realized his vision was beginning to return to him. He blinked a few times, focusing on the sight before him. The hounds were dead and two figures stood across the room from him. Virgil gasped quietly.

Angels.

One, the taller of the two, wore pristine white robes that didn’t even have a spot of blood or dirt from the fight. Long, bright white wings were folded behind them, not a single feather out of place. The only thing unnerving about them was the second set of blue eyes that resided right below the normal pair of brown. Their hair was a very light brown and Virgil noted the sword at their hip. The other angel was much darker, with wings colored like coal and clothing of the same pitch. Their hair was even a inky black, but still brushed out with the similar princely style to a certain friend of Virgil’s.

Suddenly, a third figure rushed into the room, picking up one of the hounds like it was just a little pup. This figure, Virgil realized, was clearly more demonic. Dark skin, red eyes, white hair, and leathery, bat-like wings. And, of course, the iconic spear tipped tail that swished behind them.

Virgil glanced around a bit. Shit, where had his notebook gone? He /had/ to write this all down. Ah, there it was. Right where he had dropped it when the hounds had appeared. Virgil scrambled to grab his book when a flash caught his attention. He looked up and realized that the demon and the hounds were gone. Then, he noticed the white angel staring at him.

“Holy shit..” Virgil cursed quietly as he slowly stood up, his legs shaking below him. Wait. Virgil took another glance around the room and frowned. Logan’s name had been called, but yet, his friend was nowhere to be seen.

“Where’s Logan?” Virgil spoke up, his voice shaky as he stepped closer to the angels. The white angel glanced at the black angel as the latter stepped closer to him.

“Logan?” The white angel began, “I’m not sure I know who that is.”

“But, you’re an angel, right? Aren’t angels supposed to be all knowing?” Virgil asked curiously, watching the black angel.

“Some of us can be rather dumb.” The black angel spoke, shooting a glare at the white angel, who just took in a slow breath, looking furious.

“I swear to all things holy-” The white angel began, storming towards the black angel. In an instant, Virgil felt something touch the back of his head before his vision went dark again and he felt himself go unconscious.

~

Logan darted to catch Virgil when he collapsed after Roman had touched the back of Virgil’s head.

“Seriously?” They hissed, clutching their charge in their arms. Roman just simply shrugged.

“It makes it easy for us to get him home.”

“You didn’t have to knock him out.” Logan grumbled, picking Virgil up and beginning to carry him out of the warehouse.

Roman huffed, trailing after Logan.

“Let’s just take him home before we get in trouble.” Roman said, heading out of the building after Logan and taking off into the sky with him.

The two angels flew in silence, cloaking themselves so no people down below could see them. Roman blended in with the night sky rather well, but Logan would stand out like a shooting star across the sky. They landed outside of Virgil’s apartment building, shifting back to their human forms and carrying Virgil inside. Roman dug into Virgil’s pockets and found his keys, using them to unlock the door to his home and let them inside.

“Why couldn’t you have picked a simpler human?” Roman asked as he followed Logan to Virgil’s bedroom.

“Because all humans need to be protected. Especially the ones with dangerous lives ahead of them.” Logan explained quietly as he laid Virgil in his bed and covered him up with the blankets.

[aclamclriver]

and i’ll come home to you

dedicated to  @oh-adam​  for being such a supportive  enabler  friend !

he’s never wanted to do anything as perfectly as he wants to do this.

clyde logan doesn’t smile much.  it’s just a fact of the matter:  life took a bit too much delight in beating the smile out of him.  he’s known to break,  once or twice,  but it’s not a reoccuring habit.  his family sees his smiles more often,  but they’ve learned,  too,  that sometimes,  clyde’s happiness comes in a quiet,  contented silence.  that’s all there is to it.

so jimmy logan knows,  upon seeing the grin that lights up his baby brother’s face,  that clyde must be  real  happy about something. 

he doesn’t even get the chance to ask,  because as soon as he opens the door  (  gobsmacked,  because  when  did clyde logan ever just drive up to lynchberg for the hell of it,  without giving a little notice beforehand?  )  his brother has got his arms wrapped up around him,  and he  lifts.  and jimmy logan isn’t a real sack of feathers,  but with the way clyde is holding on,  he’s practically  weightless.

“what in the hell     ?!”  jimmy starts,  before he realizes that you’re standing just a bit behind,  looking a little sheepish,  and clyde looks  teary,  and there’s a lot of confusion in the general midst of things before clyde manages to string together a coherent  “we’re havin’ a baby!”

and then jimmy is hollering,  and tackles clyde right off the front porch,  and the two of them are just wrestling around out of sheer emotion,  and your laugh echoes over the whole thing.

--

even though clyde doesn’t waste time telling mellie and joe the good news,  he still hasn’t quite come to terms with how  real  it is until you’re sitting in the doctor’s office,  holding his hand as he bounces his leg in nervous anticipation.  there is something finitely  real  about being here,  surrounded by people who have known him as the unlucky logan for god knows how long;  he imagines he’s sharing their thoughts,  of  how  could clyde logan logan ever land a girl so pretty,  let alone knock her up?  

he was up all night,  thinking about ways this could go wrong:  a missed heartbeat,  a defect,  something off,  something  painful.  he watches you sleep and imagines you in pain,  and the twist in his gut is so bad he has to squeeze his eyes shut on the thought.  he’s quiet at breakfast;  he barely says a word on the drive over.

it’s a whirl of words and stripping you into a little gown that has no back to it  (  and he  really  must be down,  not to make a comment about your ass  ),  and then slyvia leaves the room to grab something,  and clyde remarks,  soft and tender,  “i promise i’ll be the best man i can for ya  ...  for you and the bean.”

and when you reply,  without hesitation,  “you already are,  my love,”  clyde can’t help but cry a little,  burying his face in the junction between your shoulder and neck,  his hand tangling with yours.

slyvia,  upon her return,  doesn’t comment on it,  and he’s grateful;  he’s even more grateful when she does her magic,  and clyde hears his baby’s heartbeat for the very first time.

he bawls right there in the exam room,  and slyvia records a clip for him to take home,  and listen to whenever he wants.

--

"you can’t quit coffee!”  you protest,  mouth agape as clyde resolutely dumps his morning roast in the trash.  “clyde,  you work more than forty hours a week!  you’re not even fully alive until you’ve had a few cups!”

“if you can’t have it,  i’m not havin’ it,”  clyde says resolutely,  and he dumps the filters,  too.  “already threw out the beer and wine in the fridge.  ‘sides,  i’m cutting down on my hours.  jake can help run the bar.  i’m not leavin’ you by yourself.”

he’s dead serious,  too:  you know he drained all the beer down the sink the other night,  and the bottle of merlot mellie gave him disappeared the other day.  he’ll be quick to check ingredients for baby-approved formula next,  and you know he’s about three steps away from baby-proofing the trailer.  you haven’t even started to show,  and he’s already talking about upsizing,  better rugs,  and a nicer bed,  and something pretty for the baby     

you slip your arms around his waist,  forcing him to meet your gaze as you tilt your head up to look at him.  clyde never can resist the chance to hold you,  and he does so now,  the corners of his lips slipping upwards despite himself.  “you’re the perfect father already,”  you say sincerely,  and clyde’s cheeks turn a pretty shade of pink.  “but you  need  your coffee.  besides,  what happens if you’re dead tired and something happens?  you need your energy,  baby.  i promise,  i won’t try and murder you for a sip of dark roast.”

you’ve got him,  and you know it,  but it doesn’t hurt to push your advantage a little.  “and,  you know,  you’re gonna need your energy to take care of me.  i’m gonna be all over you more than usual.  maybe i wanna make little logan twins.”

he groans at that,  hips rolling forward just slightly at your words.  “no fair,”  he protests,  and you know you’ve got him good.

--

“what about patrick?”

clyde’s hands slip over the gentle roundness of your belly,  palm cupping the curve of it as you rest your head back against his chest.  the water is still warm,  the ache in your shoulders settling as you relax into clyde’s solid frame.  the sonogram slyvia printed for you a few hours earlier is already taped proudly to the fridge,  with the gender a surprise for the actual birth.  clyde had said,  on the drive home,  trying in vain to stem his happy tears,  that you should probably start thinking of names.

“there was a patrick in my platoon,  in iraq,”  clyde replies,  his lips ghosting over the nape of your neck.  he’s always been affectionate with you,  but ever since you got pregnant,  he’s been hard put to keep his hands off you.

(  you don’t mind that at all  ).

“was he nice?”

“nah.  kind of an ass.”

“alright,  patrick is out.”

his chest rumbles with the vibrations of his chuckle,  and you smile.  

“what if we have a girl?  maybe we can name her margaret,  for your mama.”

“i’d like that.”  your hand covers his over the curve of your belly,  fingers splayed out.  “if we have a boy,  what would you name him?”

he’s silent for a time,  though his lips continue to trace up the slant of your neck.  if it weren’t for those slow ministrations,  you might have thought he had fallen asleep       the steady rise and fall of his chest was quiet and peaceful,  his heartbeat steady.

“i always liked alexander graham bell,”  he says at last,  his voice a soft timber that wraps itself around you like a blanket.  “did a report on him,  once.  maybe alexander?”

“i like alexander,”  it rolls off your tongue,  sweet like sugar.  “margaret logan and alexander logan.  i like them both.”

“margaret and alexander logan,”  clyde repeats,  and you can hear the soft swell of emotion in his voice.  “i can’t wait to meet ‘em.”

--

“clyde,  it’s nine pm!  you can’t close it down!”

clyde flips the dish towel onto his shoulder with a well-practiced flick of his wrist;  his good hand slides marvin’s twenty back along the counter.  “it’s my bar,”  he states,  coolly and calmly.  “i can when it’s my little wife at home.  so clear out,  because i wanna see her.”

“but      !”

“s’my bar,  marvin.  i can shut it down,  too.  and my lady is pregnant,  and i wanna see her,  so don’t  make  me throw ya out.”

marvin takes the hint.

--

“mm,  baby,  s’at you?”

you twist slightly,  the better to see clyde in your half-asleep state,  only to feel his arms come around you,  and lift you clear off the couch.  there’s a mildly unsettling moment,  when gravity tilts,  and your hands clutch at the blanket you had wrapped around you,  but clyde is steady:  he doesn’t so much as let you slip.  

“you fell asleep again,  baby,”  he says,  voice rich with affection,  and you realize he’s carrying you to bed.  “that couch ain’t good for your back,  either.”

“wha       clyde,  don’t carry me!”  oh,  god,  the poor man:  you’re absolutely  huge  by now,  too heavy to think about,  and clyde only has one good  hand       “i’m too heavy!”

“you’re not heavy,”  he says,  like it’s the most natural thing in the world.  “you’re my wife.”

and you’re not sure why that gets you;  you bury your face in his chest and cry as he carries you all the way to bed,  and you keep crying as clyde peels your clothes away,  and lavishes you with kisses,  pouring adoration into every single one.

--

a little pain is normal,  you tell him,  and he believes you,  he  does       but he doesn’t like it.  watching your face screwed up in pain as the gripes squeeze your belly and shoot your nerves full of hurt:  it hurts him,  too.  he kneels down so that his face is level with your belly,  hands hovering slightly over the sharp curve of your stomach as he watches you,  quite at a loss on how to help.  sylvia said that the only thing to do was ride them out,  and clyde trusts slyvia as your doctor,  but he hates       hates       that advice.

“it’s gonna be fine,  clyde,”  you say,  though he can see how tight your shoulders are,  how you’re holding yourself rigid in your seat.  he hates it,  wishes he could take it all instead.  

he settles,  instead,  for murmuring softly to your belly,  “hey,  littlest logan,  don’t hurt your ma so much.  i love you both too much to watch it.”

he doesn’t know how much that helps,  but the tensions in your shoulders seem to ease,  just a little.

--

you’ve turned over again for what feels like the fourth time in five minutes when clyde asks you,  sleepily,  if you’re alright.

“bean won’t stop kicking,”  you mutter,  and you love your baby more than life itself,  but you want it to be  quiet.  you feel like your liver has turned into a punching back,  your bladder into a soccer ball;  your whole belly is trying to contain a being that is dissatisfied with its parameters.  shifting doesn’t help,  but lying still is agony;  you’re half tempted to walk about the trailer until you drop from exhaustion.

clyde rolls over,  shifting closer until he can get his arm around you,  and rests his hand flat against your stomach.  almost instantly,  the movement ceases;  you watch,  mouth agape in astonishment,  as clyde runs his palm in smooth circles over your belly.  though his eyes are closed,  you can see the faint little smile on his lips.

“guess we know who the favourite it,”  you say,  unable to resist the tease as you shift closer to clyde’s warm form.

the smile on his face widens.  “bean loves you too,  baby.  just needed pa’s touch.”

“ahh,  i see.  suppose this is different from when  i  called you daddy  ...”

clyde bursts out laughing at that,  and you shift closer still,  smiling into sleep.

[psychosistr]

Sparks Fly- Part 1 (CaeJose Dancer! AU)

Part 4 of my CaesarxTrans!Joseph Dacer!AU (I honestly never thought I’d go this far with this little idea, but I can’t bring myself to stop now XD)

Summary: Joseph receives a gift from a secret admirer that may come in handy for her upcoming date with Caesar.

Joseph was relaxing on her couch, reading through the latest issue of one of her favorite detective comics when a familiar, sharp knock sounded at her door. She looked up from her comic with a mildly annoyed frown. “Always right at the good part…” She grumbled but rose to her feet, setting the comic aside on the coffee table for the time being. Joseph really wanted to keep reading, but had learned all too well what hell would await her if she took too long and heard a second knock. “I’m coming!” She called while walking to the door. Opening it without bothering to look through the peep hole, she saw the exact person she expected. “Hey, mom. What’s up?”

Her mother, as usual, invited herself into Joseph’s apartment. Joseph noticed that she was carrying a few envelopes as well as a rather large box. “I picked up your mail while I was downstairs. This one is yours.” Lisa Lisa said while setting the large box down on Joseph’s coffee table.

Joseph cringed slightly when the corner of the box crumpled the page of her comic book a little. “Thanks, mom…” She walked over after closing the door and rescued her poor comic from under the box before poking at it. “Well, at least it’s not ticking.” She commented before going to grab a knife from the kitchen.

“It didn’t feel heavy.” Lisa Lisa idly replied while sitting on Joseph’s couch and going through a few envelopes with her own name on them.

“Didn’t see a return address, so whoever sent it probably didn’t care about it getting lost in the mail. Maybe it’s some of uncle Speedwagon’s cartel friends trying to frame me for something.” Joseph joked as she returned with a small knife and made short work of the box’s tape before opening it. Pulling the flaps open, Joseph peered inside curiously. “…?” Her face lit up with bright, excited eyes and a huge smile. “OH MY GOD!!” She yelled loudly in her excitement, startling her mother slightly.

“What is it?” Lisa Lisa asked after grabbing the envelope she dropped during Joseph’s outburst.

Joseph reached inside and pulled out the contents with an excited grin stuck to her face. “It’s a dress!” She held it out for her mother to see, holding it against herself to get a better idea of how it looked.

The dress was truly stunning. It was a gorgeous mermaid-cut dress in a shade of rivulet green that complimented her eyes perfectly. It was made of satin with long lacy sleeves- the lace weaving together to form patterns of stars in varying sizes all the way from the wrists to the shoulders of the gown. At the shoulders, the lace then straightened into a fine mesh that turned into the illusion-cut neckline above the bust of the dress. The cut of the dress in general looked like it would be very snug, at least until it got to the legs where, for comfort and a bit of sex-appeal, there was a slit just off-center. The way the fabric wrapped and folded around the area would allow for a bit more movement, but also added to the overall look of the green gown by making the remaining fabric just below the knees billow outward in the classic mermaid-dress style. To top the whole thing off, there was a gorgeous design all along the front of the gown- a series of golden beads that spiraled together like a galaxy with its center being on the left hip of the dress and spreading outward along the front of the fabric in a dazzling display.

“My, my..” Lisa Lisa said while looking over the dress slowly from behind her usual sunglasses. “It’s lovely.”

“I know!” Joseph practically squealed while hugging the beautiful article of clothing to herself. “I’m gonna go try it on!” She announced while running back to her room to change. She didn’t even wait for a reply from her mom, she was just too excited! She quickly changed out of her shorts and tee-shirt and slipped into the gorgeous gown. Once she had it on and smoothed her hands down the sides to make sure it was wrinkle-free, she looked at herself from all angles using the full-body mirror in her walk-in closet. “Hey, mom, come check this out!”

She was practically bouncing with excitement! This was incredible! She wasn’t a “girly-girl”, by any means, but she loved to dress up every now and then and feel pretty- and this dress made her feel downright beautiful!

She heard the clicking of her mom’s heels and turned to face her when she entered. Lisa Lisa looked her over from head to toe with a small, caring smile. “It suits you, Jojo.”

Joseph grinned, practically beaming with pride as she turned back to look at herself in the mirror once more.

It really did suit her: The color, as she already suspected, complimented her eyes perfectly, almost matching them in shade. The gold of the beads combined with the green of the fabric made her think of her favorite green and yellow scarf. The dress was already perfectly fitted to her every curve and angle, showing her figure off in a very flattering way and even cupping her chest just right to be appealing without too coquettish. To top everything off, the dress was actually COMFORTABLE. Yeah, it was definitely satin for the main material, but it had to be mixed with something else because it stretched and moved so seamlessly and comfortably whenever she moved that there had to be some sort of elastic or nylon or something- especially along the arms and shoulders.

“Yeah,” She said with a smile while doing a quick twirl to see the fabric swish and flutter around her long legs. “It does!” She held one arm out and traced her fingers along the lace designs. “I wonder who sent it..”

“This may shed some light on the matter.” Lisa Lisa said while holding up a small white rectangle between two fingers.

Joseph turned to her again and took it with a curious expression. “A card?” She looked over the fancy script on the little card and read the words aloud. “A beautiful lady deserves an equally beautiful dress. May this help you shine ever brighter, Miss Joestar. –Forever Yours, CAZ”

Lisa Lisa’s lip quirked up slightly as she raised an eyebrow. “Your secret admirer again?”

“Yeah, looks like it.” Joseph said while turning the card around to make sure there was nothing written on the back. As usual, there was nothing else but the simple message.

Joseph was all too familiar with the style of writing and the pen name by now. For the past two years, ever since she was about sixteen, she would receive gifts like this: There would be bouquets of flowers sent to her dressing room after shows, many of them beautiful and quite expensive- she would often take her favorite flower from each bouquet, preserve it, and turn it into one of her hair clips. For her birthday and Christmas she would receive jewelry that was sized to fit her perfectly- the stones alternating between diamonds, emeralds, and her birthstone, sapphires. Each gift would be accompanied by a card with a sweet message but no return address- all signed CAZ.

At first she had been confused by the gifts. Receiving such lavish, expensive gifts from an anonymous stranger? Why would someone go to that much trouble and not even put their name? Was it technically creepy that someone sent her that stuff constantly? Her studio and home address were both public record, so it’s not like it was stalking or something (at least as far as she knew) and the gifts were nice.

Also, the cards he sent to her..well..they made her feel better.

Around the time she’d received her first bouquet from CAZ, she had publicly come out about herself. It was met with…mixed reviews, to put it extremely nicely. Her family already knew and each and every one of them accepted her. She told herself that was all that she needed, but dealing with the constant mocking, harsh insults, and disgusted stares whenever she went out in something that was more comfortable for her or when she performed her first few shows in the correct tights and leotards…it…it started to wear on her. Then, like a beacon of light in a dark tunnel, a bouquet of pink roses and lilies arrived at her dressing room one evening with a note that said “You are the beautiful star the stage deserves- let no one ever tell you otherwise, Miss Joestar. –Forever Yours, CAZ”

It was the first time someone outside of her family had referred to her correctly and it made her so happy that she broke down in tears. It was such a small thing, a card with some pretty flowers, but it meant the world to her at the time because it was just what she needed to hear. The knowledge that there were other people out there besides her family that would support her, even if it was only one other person at the time, gave Joseph the courage and strength she needed to get through that difficult time in her life.

In the end, she decided to just accept the gifts and wait to see if the guy sending them ever revealed himself. He hadn’t yet, so she was left to imagine what he was like. He had to be someone kind and thoughtful for constantly sending such expensive gifts, right? Whoever this CAZ was, she’d love to meet him in person one day and thank him for both his presents and his kind words.

Joseph felt her mother pinch at the fabric on her shoulder to inspect the dress herself. “Well, he certainly spent quite a bit of money on you this time- this looks like a custom order.” She looked up at Joseph over her sunglasses. “You know..this is actually quite sophisticated. If you wanted to wear this for special events, it would be perfect.”

The way she said that made Joseph flinch a little. Guess she was still a little sore about what happened to her suit before. It was expensive, after all…

“Ahaha, oh yeah? Wow, what a lucky break.” She gave a nervous laugh, shriveling slightly under her mother’s piercing gaze. Then, with a gasp, a thought occurred to her. “Oh my god!” She looked herself over in the mirror, her excited smile back again. “I can wear this on my date with Caesar!”

Her mind was already racing with thoughts of what jewelry to wear with it. Oh! Maybe those golden stud earrings with the emeralds! Yeah, those would be a good start. She could pair it with that nice cocktail ring that looked like an emerald flower with a diamond in the center. The sleeves were long enough that she wouldn’t really need any bracelets, but maybe she could wear one of her necklaces? Nothing that would hang too low, of course, what with the collar of the dress- oh! She had that black choker with the small rows of diamonds, that would look good if she paired it with some black stockings or shoes and-

“So, you have a date with Caesar? When were you going to tell me about this?” Her mother’s voice was like being stabbed in the back with an icicle, making her shudder a bit.

“Ummm…probably after it was over?” She answered with a nervous smile while looking at her mother’s reflection in the mirror. “It just kind of came up while he was here. Not like I meant to keep it a secret or anything, I just kind of…forgot to mention it?” She felt a little bad about that, but, like she said, she didn’t MEAN to forget..

“Hmh..” Lisa Lisa’s lack of a direct answer for an extended period of time made Joseph squirm uncomfortably with the weight of guilt that was being placed on her. After a minute, though, her mother sighed and patted her back with a calm smile. “It’s fine. You’re a grown up now, and are allowed to make your own decisions.” She smirked ever so slightly, her tone teasing. “Just remember not to put out on the first date- make him work for it.”

Joseph’s face turned red and she hid it in her hands with a groan. “Mooooooom! That’s just- augh, I can’t even-!” She groaned again and hid her face deeper into her palms. She could hear her mom chuckling smugly over the ringing in her own ears and, after a moment of breathing to calm herself, she looked back up at her a little bit, peeking between her fingers. “Hey..mom..?”

“Yes, Jojo?” She replied, still looking rather amused with herself.

“On Saturday..could you..y’know..help me with my hair and makeup? I wanna make a good impression and, well, you’ve seen what it looks like when I do it myself…” Joseph liked how she did her own makeup for shows, but she was aware that it was a bit over the top for every-day application.

Lisa Lisa gave Joseph’s back another comforting pat. “Of course, Jojo.”

Joseph managed to smile a little bit. “Thanks, mom.”

She still felt nervous about the date, but she was determined to make a good impression, no matter what- and this thoughtful gift from CAZ would certainly help!

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-From the Beginning-