#I hate backgrounds and it’s late so this is probably the most effort background I’ll ever do for a non painting

[skelecentral]

Sans x you week Day 1: Fallen King

Event hosted by @sansxyouweek 💞💞

[shokobuns]

“𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐝𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐩𝐛𝐫𝐨?”

your irritating step brother likes to come in your room during your zoom classes.

PAIRING: stepbro!gojo satoru x f!reader

GENRE(S): smut, quarantine!au (au? LMAO), college!au, taboo

WORD COUNT: 2.7k

WARNING(S): darkish, smut, drug use (weed), high sex, stepcest, taboo, slight dubcon, slight manipulation, exhibitionism (if you squint), sensory deprivation (blindfold), degradation, size kink, unprotected sex, creampie, oral (f receiving), squirting, dacryphilia (if you squint)

(A/N): this rly do be my first time using proper capitalization huh, anyways all characters, SORRY I FORGOT TO ADD THE READ MORE I FIXED IT 

More.

One thing you easily learned about Satoru was the fact he wasn’t easy to satisfy. He’s demanding, cocky, all the while being nonchalant. He rarely exerts effort, but gets the desired results. He’s arrogant, but it’s nearly impossible to point out a flaw to counter it at all.

It makes your head hurt. It makes your teeth clench.

When you make eye contact, you make sure to stare back daggers. When you’re forced to talk to him, your voice stays monotone and expressionless. When you’re in a room with him for more than five minutes, your earbuds are already out, drowning out the sound of his voice. But it’s all difficult when you’re under the same roof.

Knock. Knock.

You roll your eyes at the sound of your step brother knocking your door, wondering what the hell he wants now. At this point, he’s probably just trying to annoy you, poke at your sides until he gets attention, any kind of attention, all just to satisfy his boredom.

Your calm demeanor and sharp tongue has always contrasted with Satoru’s teasing attitude. He’s always seemingly trying to provoke you, trying to pry apart the walls you’ve barricaded yourself in. His personality never rubbed you in the right way from the day your dad surprised you with a dinner with your new brother and your new mom. It didn’t matter anyways, you thought. You’d be going off to university soon enough.

The pandemic ran over all of your plans like a truck.

Better yet, your parents still had work without the option of staying home, leaving you and Satoru home alone for a little over eight hours a day. When he wasn’t in class or tutoring his juniors, he was knocking at your door, most likely red-eyed, though you can’t see it, and relaxed. Despite his persistence, you rarely let him in no matter how insistent he is in “getting to know his new lil sister.”

“Go away, Satoru.”

Behind the door, he pouts while you scribble down notes from the screenshared presentation. He comes in anyways, reeking of marijuana and cologne, half of his shirt buttons undone. You steal a small glance before once again glueing your eyes to your computer screen. The voice of your professor bores you, but you’re hyper aware of Satoru’s presence as he makes himself comfortable on your bed. “Get the fuck off! You stink!” You yell, turning off your camera before throwing a pencil right at him.

He catches it mid air with ease, relaxing his head on your pillows while fiddling with one of your many Sanrio plushies. “Can I have this?” he asks, holding one up as you contemplate its value in your head.

“If it gets you out of my room, then sure.” you reply in a monotone voice, turning back to your notes.

“You’re no fun,” he mumbles, rolling over to lay on his side with the plushie in his arms, “Is that organic chem?”

“Yeah, can you go now?”

“I’ll be quiet, princess. Don’t worry about me, just wanna know what my lil sis is up to.” He waits for a response, but is only rewarded with a huff.

It stays like that for the next ten minutes, him watching your professor’s lecture, you scrambling to write all of the information on the slides as he continues the fast paced lesson. You’re hyper focused on your class, putting in your effort to absorb the entirety of the content. In your mind, the only people in your room are your and your computer. “You know, you don’t have to understand everything all at once,”  a voice speaks up from behind you, causing you to purse your lips in annoyance, “It’s easier to learn when you’re actually paying attention to the lecture instead of focusing on trying to get everything down.

“We get it, Satoru. You have straight A’s and you’re naturally good at everything.”

“Hey, you’re getting advice from an aspiring teacher. Don’t need to use that tone with me, Princess.” He mumbles, rolling to his back on the bed, “Just tryna help you out in my free time.”

“I don’t need your help.”

He stays silent while you go back to drawing some of your basic compounds. Ethanol, methanol, propane, all of it. Your scribbles are messy and they progressively fill out the page in your notebook. You hear a tsk behind you, rolling your eyes as you prepare for another criticism from Satoru. Sure, he was probably right, but you refuse to feed into his ego. “Does he not link the slides to you guys or something?” he asks, this time with a friendlier tone.

“He does.” you reply, swiveling your chair until you’re facing him. He’s laying on his side again, his shirt spilling off his shoulder as your breath hitches at the sight. The blindfold is snug against his face, his hair pushed up. You’re sure that the stink of marijuana has rubbed onto your sheets and you make a mental note to wash them after class. “Then get high with me.”

“I’m in the middle of class, dumbass.”

“But you can always look at the slides later.” he suggests, “Plus, you’ve looked super stressed lately. Wonder why.”

Because of you, you want to say, but you stop yourself, opting to stay silent while pondering the offer. “Sure.”

He excitedly walks back to his room, returning to your bed seconds later with a joint between his fingertips. “This your first time?”

“Nah.”

“Ooooo,” he hums like a child, “That’s what you’re up to when we’re not around, huh?” he teases and you shake your head with a smile forming on your face.

“I guess.”

He shrugs, holding the joint up to your lips and lighting up the tip. You suck in the smoke into your lungs, holding it in, before exhaling out the screen door of your window. He takes a hit, opening his mouth and inhaling through his nose then passing it back to you. Your professor’s lecture fades into background noise as you fixate on Satoru, finally giving him the attention he’s been craving for weeks. He makes a mental note to offer you weed the next time he’s overcome by boredom.

The high hits you almost immediately. You’ve never had anything this strong and it’s liberating. You feel weightless, but your eyelids feel heavy. Your face is awfully warm and lifted and your vision gets more and more blurry by the second. The intoxication is pleasant, the present worries in your head being cut off as you focus on what’s right in front of you.

Satoru.

Satoru, your dear, irritating step brother who was kind enough to share the weed he stashes in his drawer. It’s getting harder and harder to hate him and you can’t reason why you felt so many negative emotions that you projected onto him at all. Sure, your room reeks and it’s all because of him, but the sight of him laying on your bed in a shirt that barely covers up his upper body makes your underwear feel uncomfortable. You don't know where it’s coming from, but shutting it out was easy when you’re sober. Key word: sober.

You stand from your desk, making your way to your bed and laying next to him. Both of you face each other, easily getting comfortable, warmth radiating off his body. It feels oddly intimate and your thighs press together in order to suppress the lustful feeling that takes over your body. Your arm comes around to the back of his head, tugging on the fabric that covers his eyes. “Can I take it off?”

“Sure.”

He lifts his head, allowing you to pull on the knot until it becomes undone. You don’t know what you were expecting, maybe a scar or something, but you’re in awe of the blue orbs that make you feel like you were staring into infinity. They’re bloodshot and half lidded and it’s when one fact you really didn’t want to accept hits you.

Satoru Gojo is one of the prettiest men you’ve ever seen.

And he’s your step brother.

Uneasiness stirs in your lower tummy and you curse at whatever higher power that decided to give you this type of luck, but a hand on your hip trails to your back, pulling your closer and closer until your faces are at a dangerous distance. You can feel your cheeks becoming alarmingly hot and you hate that you can’t blame it on the weed. His hand comes up to your cheeks, his thumb stroking the soft skin. “Thought you wanted me to go away?”

“Changed my mind.” you whisper, eyes slowly closing, lips parting open as you wait for him to lean in and close the gap.

“Hmm? What’s this?” he sneers, causing your eyes to shoot open and your body to jolt up from your bed. The hazy feeling on your head still remains, making it hard to stand completely straight. “Get out.” you sternly demand, leaning back on your desk chair and pointing towards your door.

“Why should I? I don’t think you really want me to leave, babe.” He props his head on his hand, leaning his elbow onto your mattress.

“It’s wrong.”

“What’s wrong? We’re just two people hanging out on a bed. Unless you were trying to do something else, dirty girl.”

“I- I wasn’t! You’re my step brother!”

“Step brother.” He repeats, justifying your actions.

You’re shaking, guilt occupying your mind keeping you distracted. It’s the perfect time for Satoru to get comfortable in the space between your legs, pulling down your loose shorts and taking you by surprise. Before you have a chance to protest, his nose brushes against your sensitive core, making you let out a squeak. “W-We can’t do this!”

“Didn’t you want this?” he questions, looking up at you with wide eyes, “Wanted me to take care of this pretty little pussy, right?”

You know you should be refusing. You know you should be pushing him out your door. But it’s so hard when his pupils are dilated and the grip on the sides of your thighs feels so right. At this point, you’re not thinking, only nodding along to whatever he’s saying, anticipating his next actions.

“So wet.” He mumbles, pulling down the flimsy fabric and throwing it off somewhere in the room. He licks a thick stripe from your entrance to your clit, sucking softly on the pearl while holding you down as the pleasure causes you to jolt upwards. He sucks and slurps like it’s his last meal, making your empty walls pulsate and little whines along with to leave your lips. Looking down, your eyes meet his, the lower half of his face immersed in your cunt.

The wet muscle fucks into you, curling and pressing against your walls, while his thumb rubs against your little clit. He hits all the right spots that make you squirm, pushing your legs wide open to see more of your ruined pussy. The wetness collects on his mouth, his chin, and his cheeks, filling him with a sick sense of satisfaction. “Such a whore, aren’t ya?” he pulls away to comment, but your fingers thread through his hair, pushing his head back where you need him most.

The action is assertive, something he usually hates dealing with. Though this time, he’s filled with a sick sense of pride at the fact that he was able to turn you, someone who seemed to hate him with a burning passion, into a moaning mess with just his mouth. He hums satisfactorily, sending vibrations into your sensitive core that make your thighs shaky.

You’re already cumming in an embarrassingly short time, gushing all over his face while he laps up all the juices you have to offer.

Before you can process anything else, his lips capture yours, lifting your body and dropping you onto your bed. You look at him with half lidded eyes, still sensitive from your last orgasm, while he pulls off his own clothes. His length rests on the inside of your thigh and he’s huge, so huge that it feels heavy against your skin and it scares you. “Satoru, I don’t think I can take you-”

“Shhh, princess,” he reassures you, “You started this. You have to take it.”

He doesn’t give you a chance to speak, taking the fabric of his blindfold and covering your eyes, tying a tight knot on the back of your head. This isn’t right, a voice in your head tells you, but you ignore it because Satoru treats you so well. He keeps you company, gives you some of his weed, eats your pussy without you having to ask him.

The only thing you can see is black and you whine. You so badly want to see Satoru’s pretty face, his chiseled body, his thick cock, but your thoughts are interrupted by the fat tip prodding at your tiny hole. “Too big..” your voice trails off as your mind is lifted, only the feeling of him splitting you in half remaining. You’ve never felt so full and it feels so dirty, yet your slick says otherwise, betraying any rational part that still resides in your body.

“I got you, Princess, don’t worry.” He slurs, drunk on the sensation of your snug walls. The stretch strings, whimpers spilling from your lips, but his cock hits every spot like no other. By the time he’s fully inside of you, it feels like he’s actually in your guts and it’s all intensified by the isolated feeling, not being able to see him at all. Every bite on your shoulder, every kiss on your open mouth, every delicious drag on your gummy walls is amplified.

You’re already cumming around him, a ring of cream forming on his cock as he gazes down at your bare body, wrapping his lips around a sensitive nipple. You squeal, your breath hitching at the same time you clamp down around his throbbing length. “Already? Such a sensitive little princess, aren’t you?” He mutters in your ear, your nails digging into his shoulders, piercing the pale skin. Tears spill from your eyes, flowing down the sides of your face.

His teeth sink into your shoulder and you want to tell him to stop, but the words don’t quite leave your lips. Only babbling noises accompanied by the wet sounds of your cunt and skin slapping against skin. He’s still pounding into your cervix at a relentless pace, in awe of how your slick drips down his balls and onto the white sheets. 

Every time he hits that sweet spot, there’s an odd feeling that forms, like you’re about to make a mess. And when your next orgasm washes over you in intense waves of euphoria, a clear liquid spurts from your cunny, coating his lower stomach and your inner thighs. “Who knew my little princess was such a messy girl?” he taunts, making your cheeks flush in embarrassment.

“S-shut up-”

“Don’t worry about it,” he leans in close, his lips dangerously close to your ear, “I’ll clean it all up.”

His smooth voice causes you to squeeze around him, almost like you don’t want him to ever leave your cunt, and it gets harder and harder for him to move. “Fuck, baby you’re so tight, need you to loosen up,” he mumbles, his own orgasm finally approaching, your little cunny milking him for all he’s worth. 

He’s rambling little praises, hot pleasure elevated by the high, his hips stuttering and his cock stuffing you to the brim with his warm seed. You both lay there, still intertwined and his body resting on top of yours.

“Ms. (L/N)! Did you have any questions about my lesson today?”

Your face drops in horror, your hand immediately pulling off the blindfold, as you push Satoru away from you and press the leave button on Zoom. A mix of your juices drop onto the floor and he chuckles, pulling you back to bed. “This isn’t over.”

He pins you back onto the mattress, his cock twitching at the sight of your leaking cunt, pulling your thighs until you’re close and pinning them to your chest. In one swift movement, his entire cock is shoved into your cunt, his balls slapping against the flesh of your ass with every thrust, fucking his cum back into your womb.

Gojo Satoru would never be satisfied.

[petri808]

Quarantine memories fic hoarding craze for @thenaluarchive

— thank you to @phoenix-before-the-flame for helping jump start this fic 💜

It was Natsu Dragneel’s absolute favorite time of the day. 1 pm for him, and 8 am for Lucy, his… well, right now they were just online friends separated by distance and priorities. But judging by how he talked about her to friends, you’d never know it. They’d met three years ago on Twitch through a random chat stream about an anime series, and he continued following Lucy on her writing streams. Three years ago, she was a sophomore in college while he was in his senior year. Lucy later moved on to a graduate program, but they stayed in touch, growing close. To Natsu, she wasn’t just some girl online but a real friend he cared very much about. His friends called Lucy his online girlfriend. Pfft. He wished he could call her that.

Roughly two thousand miles away, Lucy Heartfilia was hating life. Her curtains were drawn, and a blanket was pulled over her head to drown out the light. The air conditioner was down to 60 degrees Fahrenheit, working against the low-grade fever and pounding migraine born yesterday. Migraines… the bane of her otherwise healthy existence. It was her fault after all, the temptation of a chocolate dessert knowing full well it was one of her triggers brought on said migraine and all she could do was bear it.

Why?

“Stupid hoarders!” Lucy groaned to herself.

As if dealing with a pandemic wasn’t bad enough, people’s selfish reactions to it were worse. A government agency had claimed that acetaminophen products could help with the virus’s symptoms, so what did people do? Panic buying anything and everything they could find containing that drug! The problem for people like Lucy, is the one over the counter medication that helped with her migraines was Excedrine… an acetaminophen product! And she’d just. run. out.

Lucy’s phone rang and she knew exactly who it could be based on the time. So, she clicked the answer button without opening her eyes.

“Hey, Natsu,” she groaned out.

“Morning Lucy! Oh geez, you sound like a frog.”

“Thanks,” she retorted sarcastically. “I’ve got a migraine.”

“Ouch.” Natsu genuinely flinched. He rarely got headaches, but this wasn’t the first time he’d talked to Lucy when she was going through one, so he knew what she was going through. “The meds aren’t helping?”

Lucy sighed. “I ran out. And did you see the news about all the hoarding? Every store here is bought out. It… sucks.”

“I could check around here and send you any I find,” he offered.

“Aww, that’s sweet of you Natsu, but I don’t wanna trouble you.”

“Pfft. Nonsense. I’m sure you’d do the same for me.”

“Thanks, Natsu. I appreciate it.” Lucy smiled through the pain. There’s a good reason her feelings for the man had grown over the years. His sweet and caring, yet fun and goofy, positive personality was an easy drug to get hooked to.

“Anyway, I gotta get back to work.” Natsu whined. “Good morning again, stay hydrated, and I’ll check on you again when I’m finished for the day, okay Lucy? Get some rest.”

“Have a good day at work Natsu.”

“Will now, after hearing your voice. Talk to you later Luce.”

She giggled softly. “Bye, Natsu.”

Lucy shifted under her blanket as she clicked off the phone to lie on her back. His sexy voice did wonders for her mood despite the pain still ravaging it. Now all she had to do was drag herself out of bed to eat something and drink water. She never had an appetite when she got these migraines, but it was a necessary fuel to fight it. All Lucy had left were extra strength Tylenol, so she could only hope it would at least take the edge off until the migraine ran its course.

Like so many others, this pandemic had really taken a toll on Lucy’s psyche. It’s not as if she went out a lot before it took hold, but just the fact it made going out dangerous brought different emotions to the situation. School had moved online which sucked all its own, she missed casually hanging out with friends on campus, and simply longed for the freedom of leaving her apartment as she pleased. But she understood the precautions of a quarantine. Frankly, she agreed with the city’s efforts to keep them as safe as possible no matter how many grumbled about it. Did it make it easier? No. But it was a necessary evil.

They weren’t completely trapped, could shop for necessities, visit family or friends, just encouraged to limit such gatherings as a safety precaution. If you went out, wear a mask, and just don’t stand too close to other people. Well, unless Lucy knew the person, why would she want strangers in her personal bubble anyway? And the mask thing? Have you ever been out shopping, and someone just sneezes without covering their mouth? Yeah— seriously, would it kill people to use one?! Why were people so selfish during times like this? Not everyone, but too many. Just like with all the hoarding frenzies that swept through cities, it was frustrating and— “Ugh…” being in a pain-driven bad mood was sure bringing her down today.

But despite all the external frustrations, the feelings of isolation from being in a quarantine for months were probably the most mentally exhausting part. It was lonely being so far away from home during a pandemic. Lucy’s been in college for five years and while she’s made friends in the new city, she was starting to crave comfort instead of an empty apartment. Her life online was one of the few things that made her happy, like Natsu’s daily calls, and kept her sane.

Natsu… her face heated up every time she thought about the man. They didn’t have a lot of hobbies in common, but he was always so supportive and made her laugh like no other could. Where they lacked in commonality, was made up in ease of conversation. It hadn’t taken very long for their online chats to feel more like an old friend and less like a faceless stranger. Over the years they’d talked about meeting in person one day after she finished school. It also helped that he was from a city not too far from where she came from, so if she chose to move back it would be convenient. But she also loved the new city she called home. Oh well, Lucy sighed. It was a decision still a couple of years away to make.

The next morning, Lucy woke up to find her migraine had finally given up. She could still feel the little bastard hiding, simmering somewhere ready to strike, but if it stayed mellow, it was something she could tolerate. Throughout the day, Lucy wasted no time in catching up on the homework she couldn’t finish the day before and making sure to stay hydrated with food in her stomach.

Lucy’s phone rang around 2pm.

“Hi Natsu, how was work?”

“Same ole, same ole,” he chuckled. “And how are you? Still feeling, okay?”

“Yeah, it hasn’t come back.”

“That’s great!”

Lucy could hear a lot of background noise, so she asked about it. “Oh, you’re not home yet?”

“Nah, and the commuters are being extra noisy today,” he responded benignly. “Anyway, tonight I won’t have time to talk cause I got a project due for work I need to finish.”

“Oh, that’s okay. Yeah, I’m still catching up from yesterday too and Levy’s dropping by for dinner.”

They chat for a few minutes about their day as Natsu waited for transportation. Lucy knew he used the subway to and from work, but today it sounded a little different, noisier and she swore there were engines instead of the normal train sounds. Maybe it was static. Finally, Lucy caught the muffled words now boarding.

“Shucks, time for me to go,” Natsu cut through. “Sweet dreams Lucy! I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

“Good night, Natsu!”

Lucy spent the afternoon relaxing online, chatting with friends and gaming. Her friend Levy McGarden later dropped by with take-out food for dinner and the two women caught up on random topics while movies droned on the television. They were both in grad school, so during the semester there wasn’t a lot of time to hang out, but they made do. Lucy was also doing a paid internship at a local magazine 4 days out of the week as part of her master’s program. She really enjoyed working there under one of the senior editors. He made it a fun learning experience.

Life was almost perfect except for the background isolation of the pandemic. Lucy was glad she wasn’t one of the individuals affected by jobs cuts, but it still got under her skin to feel trapped in a way. It was nice with her friend over... ‘Maybe I should see if Levy wants to become roommates?’ She wondered as she drifted off to sleep. The apartment would sure feel a lot less empty.

A knock at the door roused Lucy from her sleep. She blinked and yawned, looking at the alarm clock and that said 9 am the next morning. ‘Natsu didn’t call,’ she thought how odd. Maybe he slept in after working late.

Lucy dragged herself out of bed, throwing on a robe to answer the front door. “Gimme a sec,” she called out as she neared it.

“UPS delivery, ma’am.” The male voice responded.

‘UPS?’ Lucy grew confused. She didn’t remember ordering anything through them, but maybe she’d forgotten?

She peaked out of the peep hole, but all she could see was the box being held up. Okay a little weird, but some of the delivery people did that to show they were legitimate service people. Lucy slowly opened the door but kept the chain lock on while peering through the gap. But what she saw next brought on instant tears.

“H-How?” Her voice stammered out as her fingers quickly undid the lock and opened the door wide.

There Natsu stood holding a small brown box, dressed in a uniform of sorts, with a mask hanging under his chin, and wearing a goofy grin.

Lucy snorted a laugh as her eyes crinkled in happiness. “Is that a Halloween costume?”

“Yeah,” his smile widened, and hand scratched his head. “Surprise delivery,” Natsu held out the box, “for Lucy Heartfilia.”

“What is it?” She asked as she took it from him.

“Oh, I um found you Excedrine.”

Lucy opened the box to find 4 bottles. “You certainly did,” she laughed. “But why’d you bring it yourself?”

“It was quicker than the mail and… I hoped…” Natsu’s mannerism grew sheepish and tentative, “it was about time we finally met in person?”

Her face softened with a smile. “It truly is.” Lucy gestured into the apartment. “Please, make yourself at home.”

[bokunosimpfiction]

Yandere!Heisenberg x Reader Pt 3

A/N: Since y’all demanded a plot that’s what you’ll get. Will it be good? No. I’ve never written anything with a plot in my entire life. Ever. Not even when I did Nanowrimo or whatever. I just bullshitted the whole thing. Like I’ll do with this fic. Y’all are going to have to remind me to update because I have the attention span of a goat. I’ll try to update this on Saturdays??? IDK at this point. ALSO, WHY THE FUCK IS THIS SO POPULAR?????????? DO YOU KNOW HOW MANY NOTES THIS HAS ON AO3???? 69????SIXITY FUCKING NINE??? I HATE EVERYTHING MY LEGACY WILL BE READER CALLING HEISENBERG DOOFSCHMIRTZ I HATE EVRYTHING DSHFUGSADFJ

Synopsis: You have totally, %100, given up on escaping. Totally. You haven't been gathering supplies for one, final last hurray. Nope. Totally not. All you have to do is persuade Heisenberg of that so you can change your mind at the last minute. Y’all know the trigger warning for this series but if you don’t tw:kidnapping (implied)

Taglist: it’s exclusivly @localdepressedvampire​  so if you want to be on it for just this story or for all my pieces fill out the google doc in my pinned post or dm me and I’ll put you on it. :)

             You’ve made a breakthrough in your long-term plan of escapism. Even with the mini escape attempts that were really about exploring the factory and less about actually trying to get out, you hadn’t made a lot of progress: until now.

             Well, two, really… Okay, maybe 1 ½. Firstly, you found a sawed-off two-barrel shotgun. With ammo. In fact, there was a various amount of ammo around the factory, but no actual gun. Until now. The second discovery, which is nowhere near as useful, was a window. Which was probably 50 or more feet up from the ground. You didn’t get a chance to inspect it that much, considering as soon as you saw it and got a glimpse at the far-off ground, you had to run again from Lycans.

             Which gives you a basic idea of a way to escape. You knew where the ammo was, you knew where the gun was and had a route to the edge of the building, and hopefully could find stairs at the end of the hallway. Now all you had to do was find a time where you could be gone long enough to get a decent head start before, he notices you’re even gone. Even when he was in the workshop, he kept a close eye on you, keeping you in arms-length to the point where it taxed on both of your mental health.

             And even then, in that chair in the small room, you watch him work in the finer details on something the size of your head and torso. You try not to look at the phone in your lap, he doesn’t even know you have it, much less how great the reception is in the building. How did he not know about his old phone that was still working fine? Oh well, he doesn’t need to know you’re looking at memes and reading feel-good wolf-star fanfic on ao3.

             The best idea you had was to leave him while he was asleep, but there were two some issues with that: he clung to you like his life depended on it, your back to his chest and arms around you almost tight enough to keep you awake; it was dark as hell in the hallways of the factory as is, but it would be impossible to navigate safely with the lights; and the Lycans were most active outside at night, which was where you were trying to go. They’ve tried to eat you before as they show no discrimination on food.

             The only way to get a good enough head start would be to leave while he didn’t notice you were gone, and wouldn’t notice for a long, long time. And that when it hit you. The only time he ever left you by yourself was when he had to deal with the other three lords. And while he left you in that basement that you originally woke up in, you had memorized your way out and found that going up five flights of stairs took you to that faithful widow.

             Would you have enough time to explore and look for an actual exit/entrance, or should you play it safe and find a way to go out that window. You wanted to laugh to yourself, you’d never think that going down a 50ft plus drop would be considered safe, but here you were, kidnapped and held hostage by one of the people your late grandmother warned you not to associate with, or even go near. The letter you received directly quoted “the four lords and their mother, Mother Miranda, are not to be approached or associated with at any costs. You’ll know them when you see them, they smell like death and money. See them and run.”

             You can’t help but find that ironic, considering that you did try to run, heeded her warning, and still faced the consequences that were far worse than she had warned you about. You regretted coming here, to this small village, when you first arrived: no friends, and even those you tried to approach held you to her standard and expected them to be just like her. You were far from her kind and optimistic nature (at least that’s what you heard of her; you hadn’t even known of her whereabouts until she was dead).

             Even the duke, who had helped smuggle you into the village, didn’t seem fond of you. It was a shame, you tried so hard to impress him. But he saw you to a point where you could easily reach her old cottage without having too many issues, turned his cart around, and left without a good-bye. It bothered you to no end that your only companion for about a year or so was an elderly outside cat and the creaking noises the walls made at night.

             And then the cat died and not even a week later you got kidnapped. You never considered yourself lucky, but damn if that wasn’t the worst streak of luck you’ve had in a long time.

             You pretend to turn a page in your book and scroll through your Instagram feed, seeing friends having fun at the beach, or studying at the library, or your old best friend taking selfies in provocative clothing to your ex-boyfriend. Did she forget he cheated on you? She wasn’t always the smartest, but she brought that heartbreak upon herself. You see a photo of your mom, she had posted a picture of a black and white photo of her with her mom, you’re guessing, you have no idea who that old woman is.

             This is the last photo I had with my mom before she died. We lost contact after I moved out. I wish we parted on better terms, Nana.

             She’s in a prairie dress, holding an ancient-looking key in one hand, and the other wrapped around her mom, a middle-aged woman with long hair in two braids and a face that had too many stress wrinkles. You guess your mom was as bad as you were in college. The background looks dreary. You would have guessed it to be the quality of the photo if you hadn’t recognized the house behind them as the house you lived in used to live in.

             The loops on the handle of the key look familiar. You spread your fingers apart to zoom in and see the blurry engravings on the side. It was the payment you gave to sneak into the village. You thought it was a worthless family heirloom at most and found it strange that he had even found interest in the key, or even valued it deeper than money in general. Maybe this photo or other photos of you and your family would help out.

             Why is that key suddenly piquing your interest? Were you that bored, as to sit there and think about a key that was at least twice your age? A key that you didn’t even have. You needed a hobby besides escapism and rejecting your captor’s sexual advances. You look up at him again, only to find him leaning against the desk, hat off and sunglass placed on his forehead, his gaze on you. It wasn’t his normal piercing one, that studied you and calculated your every move, but soft and lazy. His current gaze was dreamy; he was daydreaming about you. You found that equally undaring s it was unnerving.

             “Karl.”

             “Yes, Sweetiepea?” Honestly, what the fuck.

             “Firstly, why are you staring at me like that? Secondly, that is the most disgusting way to use that pet name. I need to take a shower after you called me that.”

             He chuckles light-heartedly. Even his softer more genuine, happy chuckles are booming and loud. “Okay… Sugarplum!” And he busts out laughing.

             Clearly dodging the first question and focusing on the second. You can’t believe you gave him ammo for his annoying-you-gun. And you thought you’d grown immune to most of his… less-savory traits. Were you growing used to him? Next thing you know you’re going to like him and develop Stockholm syndrome!

             “You’re a shit head, hobo magneto…” You turn your head away and let your hair cover half your face so he can’t see you smile. You’ll miss him when you escape and get the duke to smuggle you back to your home in Bucharest. But only a little. Just because calling Heisenberg these names are funny.

             “Why don’t you call me by my name, I know you know it.”

             “You sure about that?” You quip back.

             “You’ve lived with me for at least two months now!”

             “Hm…. I think I know your name! It’s uh…” You are totally faking not knowing his name. “It’s… Heidi Carlson? Yeah, that sounds about right!”

             “It’s Karl Heisenberg!”

             “Quit being so silly, Heidi! Maybe it’s nap-time!” This was a little too fun.

             He looks back at his project for a moment and genuinely considers it. “I know you’re being antagonistic but you’re probably right.” And with that, he walks towards you and goes to scoop you up. You have to shut your book quickly in order for him not to notice the phone in between its pages before you let him pick you up.

             He immediately notices that. “Are… Are you sick?”

             “No! Of course not!” Because you genuinely aren’t sick, and he’s already up in your business as-is, you don’t need him dotting on you because he thinks you’re sick or something. You’ll go fucking crazy.

             “You’ve put in zero effort into anything remotely physical since your last little failed escape attempt.” He gave it a little bit of thought. “You’ve given up, haven’t you, and you’re just depressed about it aren’t you?”

             You want to say no, you really do, but if Heisenberg thinks you’ve given up on escaping, perhaps it’ll give you enough space to plan the big one. The reverse heist so to speak. “No- I… okay maybe I have but I still don’t like you.

             He leans down and presses a kiss to your forehead. “Good girl. Now let’s get us that well-deserved nap.”

             You plug your nose and turn away as a joke. “You’ve gotta take a bath first, you smell like oil and sweat.” You don’t fight it, because you have to play the part, but you still have to act a little bit like yourself.

             “Okay, fine doll, but don’t think you’ve escaped my barrage of affection, because as soon as I get out of the shower-“

             You bonk him. And he looks at you so confused before he smiles and leans down to nuzzle his nose against yours. You try to hold the bile back in your mouth and lean forward and peck his lips before leaning back. You failed at trying to not visibly gag.

             “Ew… I can’t believe I just kissed you.”

             “Well, I guess someone caught feelings… Didn’t they?”

[writerofthecourt]

ushijima, sakusa, iwaizumi, and shirabu being protective of their mute!girlfriend

warning: some bullying and harassment, very slight time skip spoilers, slight mention of injury and blood

a/n: for you, anon! i hope you guys enjoy

EDIT: this is a reupload because tumblr kept deleting me from the tags

ushijima wakatoshi

honestly, you guys were a weird couple

ushijima’s a man of few words, while you’re a person of no words

tendou was 100% convinced that you guys had some weird couples’ telepathy going on

(no one tell him that it’s just text messages and a pen and paper)

for the most part, everybody at shiratorizawa was cool with your relationship

everyone except for ushijima’s fangirls

“i don’t know what he sees in her. she’s not even that pretty”

“maybe he likes charity cases”

you ignored the two girls as they followed after you, your indifferent attitude only further fuelling their anger

“oi, [l/n]. don’t ignore us. you really think you’re too good for us just because you’re dating ushijima-kun?”

“he’s probably just taking pity on you since no one else would want your mute self”

their insults didn’t stop, not even as you approached the gym

“why does ushijima-kun even bother with you?”

“yeah, he would be so much better off without you”

it was at this time that ushijima had just returned from refilling his water bottle and happened to overhear the conversation

“i’d have to disagree with you,” your boyfriend proclaimed

“u-ushijima-kun, where did you come from?” one of the girls stuttered

“[y/n] is a wonderful person, and i’m lucky to have her,” ushijima continued unwaveringly. “i don’t agree with your comments. apologize to [y/n] at once”

at this point, the two girls knew that there was no winning in this situation

they exchanged a nervous glance with one another before hastily throwing out an apology. “s-sorry, [l/n]”

you tried not to smirk as the two girls quickly walked away, embarrassed that their idol had seen them in such a bad light

you sent your boyfriend an appreciative smile before he happily took a hold of your hand and led you towards the gym

in conclusion: no words were needed when the two of you were together

sakusa kiyoomi

when news broke out that you and sakusa were dating, sakusa was livid

not only was it an invasion of privacy, but the fact that it was atsumu’s fault made sakusa even more mad

the idiot forgot to crop you and sakusa out of the background of his stupid selfie

#sakusaandmysterywoman started trending online before sakusa had to eventually tell everyone the truth

“[y/n]’s my girlfriend. leave us alone,” was all sakusa tweeted before social media caught on fire and exploded

like with any celebrity dating scandal, there was some backlash from the fans, especially from the crazy ones who accused you of stealing away their precious omi-kun

eventually, everything settled down, and the fans became a lot more supportive of you and sakusa’s relationship

this led sakusa to being more comfortable about sharing pieces of his relationship with you online

although he was clearly happy, this didn’t stop his overzealous fans from constantly insulting you

“why does [y/n] never say anything when omi-omi gives her a compliment?”

“ngl [y/n] seems kind of rude. i feel like sakusa deserves better”

“omi-kun should be with someone who’s actually worthy of him. [y/n] ain’t it chief”

the only reason why sakusa didn’t respond to any of these people was because you told him not to, and he wanted to respect your wishes

it wasn’t until an especially concerning tweet about a fan “paying you a visit” that sakusa finally had to put a stop to all of this nonsense

“to anyone insulting or even going as far as to threaten my girlfriend, just stop. if you can’t support my decision, then i don’t need you. you are not a ‘true’ fan. i love [y/n], and i’m happy with her. to all of you who have been supportive of my relationship with [y/n], thank you. i don’t say this enough, but i truly appreciate you guys”

after sakusa’s tweet, #omi[y/n] started trending in support of you and sakusa’s relationship, which finally put a stop to all of the online hate

in conclusion: blame atsumu

iwaizumi hajime

when iwaizumi asked if you wanted to go see a movie with him on the weekend, you were over the moon

you knew just how busy your boyfriend was with volleyball practice, so you weren’t too pushy when it came to dates

you made sure to put a little extra effort into your outfit and appearance that day because you wanted to look cute for you boyfriend

unfortunately, this also caught the eyes of guys other than iwaizumi

“hey, cutie. you by yourself?” a flirtatious male close to your age asked. “i wouldn’t mind keeping you company”

you tried not to blanch as you took a step back and shook your head, indicating that you weren’t interested

this did nothing to dissuade the flirtatious guy, as he offered you a charming smile. “you can pick the movie if you want to. come on, it’ll be fun”

you were about to walk away when an all too familiar arm securely placed itself around your shoulder in a protective hold

“leave her alone. she’s not interested,” your boyfriend scowled

“says who?”

“says me. got a problem?”

“w-whatever, man. you can have her”

as the flirtatious guy began to walk away, the harsh glare on iwaizumi’s face soon transformed into worry as he turned to look at you. “sorry i’m late. are you okay? you’re not hurt, right?”

you nodded your head in reassurance while offering iwaizumi a gracious smile

your boyfriend smiled back before placing a gentle kiss just below your eye

“i’ll always be there to protect you, okay?” iwaizumi reminded you

you nodded your head once again, never doubting him for a moment

in conclusion: don’t mess with the seijoh arm wrestling champion

shirabu kenjirou

for the most part, you liked being the manager of the boys’ volleyball team

the shiratorizawa players were always chaotic and funny, and you were proud to call yourself a part of the team

although, if there was one thing to complain about, it would definitely have to be some of their fans

you were in the middle of bandaging shirabu’s injured finger when a chorus of high-pitched cheers rang out from near the gym doors

“[l/n], go deal with that,” coach washijo grumbled in annoyance

you sent your boyfriend an apologetic smile before signing to him to continue applying pressure in order to stop the bleeding

grabbing your pen and notebook, you wrote down a quick message before walking over to where the three girls were standing

please keep your voices down, your note read

“we’re just cheering on the players," one of the girls said

"yeah, what’s wrong with that?” another girl remarked

you’re distracting the players from practice

“well, must be easy for you since you can’t even seem to speak at all,” the last girl replied mockingly, followed by the laughter of her two friends

shirabu, who had been listening to the conversation, immediately got up from the bench to go stand next to you

“you three have been nothing but nuisances this whole time, and everyone agrees with me,” shirabu snapped furiously. “if you can’t be quiet, then leave!”

after shirabu’s angry outburst, the three girls promptly quieted down

you’re too nice, your boyfriend signed after the two of you returned to the bench

well, you know what they say. opposites attract and all that

oh, shut up

you only smiled in response as you finished bandaging shirabu’s finger before pressing a light kiss to the back of his hand

“stop mocking me with your cute couple-y-ness!” tendou screeched from across the court, having just witnessed your adorable exchange

“tendou! five laps around the school!”

in conclusion: stop yelling in the gym!

[anotherloganstan]

The Hurt - DRLAMP

Summary: Janus has become to feel a little more left out of the group, it hurts him so much but perhaps he’s hurting himself more than the others are hurting him after all.

A/N: Thanks to @treeni for commissioning this piece and also to @candied-peach who this is written for as well, enjoy! 

Warnings: angst, self-hatred, pining, hurt/comfort, getting together (with the others already in an established relationship)

Word count: 3k

-----------------------------

Janus is a lot of things, sarcastic, harsh, a liar, a little mean when he needs to be, but also emotional. But those walls were built up so high they even rival Logan’s own, well, before the somewhat recent development that is. And Janus was hurt. Painfully, deeply so. It hurt to see them together. To see them all together. The way Patton pulls each one of them into a hug only to hesitate when it came to Janus, that hurt. The way Virgil would make each and every one their signature drink only to ‘forget’ Janus’, that hurt. The way Roman would ruffle their hair, place the most delicate kiss onto a forehead – aside from his brother who more often than not got an affectionate slap over the head and a laugh – it still hurt. The way Logan will sit curled up close to another, holding hands while he reads, that hurt. And the way Remus, he closest friend, took off and left him for them, perhaps that hurt the most.

But he could not show that, could he? He was strong, a force to be reckoned with, spiteful, petty, and yet still hurt.

Many nights he spent alone, listening to giggles and laughs, loud conversations between the thin walls, sharp tears stinging his eyes and sniffles muffled by his pillows. It really, really hurt. The deep pain in his chest stabbing, aching, irrational, absurd. He was jealous. So very painfully jealous. Not of any of them in particular, no, he was jealous that he wasn’t a part of whatever they had, this closer, more intimate relationship that clearly, he was not worthy of. They did not want him, they did not need him, he was nothing to them, nothing but someone, something, to use, a convenience, to be there whenever they needed him to be of service and nothing else.

He could not help those painful, poisonous thoughts from plaguing his brain, his thoughts, his dreams. It got him down.

*

It’s a movie night, Janus is certain, the loud singing from the twins and Patton, the boisterous giggling, even the undignified screeches of ‘hey!’ from Virgil and Logan every so often. Janus is missing out but then again, he wasn’t invited. It is late anyway, too late to join them. Maybe he should simply go to bed, he won’t sleep but he’s not doing anything else either, other than wallowing in his own self-pity and depressing thoughts.

He gets up, puts on one of his favourite silk robes and decides that he looks decent enough to be seen and walks downstairs, even just to see what’s going on. Even just, for a moment, to feel like he’s involved.

But it is a bad idea. Seeing Roman sat on the floor between Patton’s legs, the other man playing with his hair in a way that must be soothing as Roman’s eyes are closed blissfully, yet a smile on his lips and giggles still slip past. Beside Patton is Logan, leaning against him but talking lowly with Virgil beside him – probably about something that set them all off laughing in the first place. Remus then beside him, well, half atop of Virgil who simply chooses to ignore him and his maniacal laughter for the most part.

“Shh, be quiet, we don’t want to wake Janus up,” Patton scolded the seemingly endless giggles from the others but unable to stop himself from snickering as Remus unceremoniously falls off the couch and onto the floor between his fit of laughter.

“Don’t worry, I’m already awake,” he says, deadpan and serious, if only to mask the slight hurt of once again not being invited nor included to one of their group hangouts.

“Oh, Janus, we’re sorry!” Patton apologises immediately, hand over his mouth to cover the remnants of his laughter. And Virgil at least has the decency to kick at both of the twins to get their attention, giving them ‘a look’ which they must understand as ‘shut the fuck up immediately’ because they fall almost completely silent.

Great, now he’s ruined their fun.

“It’s alright, Patton, I was awake already, continue, it seems like you were all having a good time,” he says, unable to stop the bitterness from seeping into his voice. God, he is such a bitch.

“Ah, we apologise, Janus, we assumed you were having a ‘self-care’ day as we hadn’t seen you all morning and this afternoon,” Logan explains from his position half on Virgil’s lap and half on the couch leaning against Patton.

“Right,” Janus responds, unsure of what else to say, should they not have assumed? Should they have come to him to ask if he was busy? Maybe that would have been nice, but he knows he would have been intruding much like he is now.

So, he lies. Again. Like he always does.

“Quite right, Logan,” he continues, at least attempting to sound somewhat unfazed and confident and content, “I have just come for a glass of water then I think a bubble bath and face mask is in order. Please do enjoy your movie.”

They do. Or at least Janus assumes they do. He gets his unnecessary glass of water from the kitchen and takes it back to his room, listening as they resume their movie, and the giggles start up almost as soon as he leaves. That only stings a little. He tries to brush off the feeling that maybe they are laughing at him. They would not, he knows, but the voice in his head tells him that anyway. He takes a bath regardless to keep up appearances and not to seem like such the filthy liar he actually is. They all hate his lies anyway.

*

He catches them again a few nights later. Perhaps they are not caught, after all this is all their kitchen, but Janus, again, feels as if he is intruding on something intimate. Date night, he presumes. Virgil on his usual place atop the countertop, in a slightly more formal purple jumper and jeans, sticking his fingers into something sweet whenever Patton, in the adorable pink apron, turns his back to scold at Remus for touching the hot trays. Roman sits at the table, poised and as beautiful as ever, clearly dressed up for the event, adding garnish to what must be their starter course. Logan sits beside him, stirring together some sort of dressing for the salad, listening but not participating to the conversation Roman and Virgil are having from across the kitchen.

“Janus, come in,” Logan says, having clocked him the moment he came to be at the doorway.

Janus flushes, unable to stop himself, the hurt and guilt combining, yet the invitation warms him just a little.

“I wouldn’t want to impose,” he responds, almost sheepishly. He feels very underdressed in front of them all, even Logan seems to have made an effort (though he doubts of his own free will).

“You wouldn’t be imposing, we’ve made enough for all six of us,” Logan says, the barest hint of a smile gracing his features and Janus is sure he wants to make Logan smile like that and more in the future.

“I shouldn’t, you all should be able to enjoy your date night without the need to babysit me, I would merely get in the way,” he tries, hoping that his raw emotion is not slithering through his somewhat humorous words.

Logan sighs. And Janus cannot help feeling as though he is the source of this disappointment, this frustration. But he does not say anything.

“What our nerd is trying to say is we want you here,” Roman interrupts, voice as loud as before, bringing the attention of others onto Janus who merely wishes he had not come at this point, “you can’t be imposing if you have an invitation, sorry, you’re not even cool enough to gate crash anyway.”

The good-natured insult makes Janus almost reconsider. Almost. Lost for a moment in thought, barely a smile on his face until it drops suddenly. He shouldn’t let himself feel too comfortable around them, especially on their date night, least he fall victim and break his own heart with false hope.

“I shan’t tonight, boys,” he says after a moment, all eyes on him, and he avoids looking at their faces – hoping to not see a look of disappointment or even more so a look of relief at his departure – “have a lovely night though.”

With that he is gone.

*

It is a few days later that he breaks. All the feelings trapped inside of him, festering inside of his soul and willing to break free. It was the glimpses of kisses, becoming the background for sensual touches and too long hugs, of soft whispers he definitely was not supposed to overhear, to the sounds of shrieked laughter from down the hall and loud conversations he had no part it. Their own little lives he had- has no part in.

*

They are in the living room again, music on low and the bursts of chatter flowing down the corridor and Janus’ curiosity gets the better of him. Sticky notes stuck to all their foreheads and smiles on their faces – that he tries to tell himself they all do not drop when he enters – playing some sort of silly game.

“Janus!” Patton exclaims at the same time Remus shrieks “I’m not a chicken?”

“Sorry for interrupting, I’ll just go.”

“Wait!” Roman raises his voice from between the grumbling amongst Remus and Virgil with Logan as a somewhat bored mediator.

Roman is at his side in an instant, having no issue manhandling Janus to face him, his smile big and infectious, almost making Janus believe he wants him there, but he knows he’s just being polite.

The other goes to say something before his face changes and what comes out instead is, “are you okay?”

And they have not asked that for a while. And Janus is not sure for the real answer. So, he lies. As always.

“I’m fine.”

It came out harsh, clipped, angry.

“You don’t seem it, are you sure?”

“I said I’m fine, leave it at that.”

“Okay,” Roman relents, “I mean, you don’t have to go just because we’re all in here, we do realise that you don’t spend so much time with us anymore, and that’s okay! Just, you don’t have to go because we’re in here too.”

“Yes, Roman, I do. You wouldn’t understand.”

“What wouldn’t I understand?”

“Any of it. I just… I can’t be around you all, it’s too much.”

He stops just short of telling Roman that it hurts. It pains him.

“Janus,” Roman begins, voice soft and gentle, not wanting to spook Janus, “you know you can tell me anything and I’m here for you, right?”

And Janus is sure if Roman held out his arms now that he would merely fall into the hug, cry and collapse against the romantic and let everything out.

Instead, he responds, “of course, Roman,” and takes his leave despite everything telling him to stay.

*

Alone, again, once more. You would think he has become used to the silence and the loneliness, sadly not. He lies on his bed, lights out aside from the small lamp on his bedside table, dressed for bed yet not tired, no, merely exhausted. He considers getting up for a glass of water (and telling himself he definitely will not change his mind and reach for the wine once in the kitchen) but then there is a knock at the door. A sharp, pristine, calculated knock.

Had it been anyone else Janus may not have opened the door, not in the mood for a loud, over exertive interaction. But he knows Logan stands on the other side of the door, perhaps alone, perhaps not. Janus does not know which he would prefer in all honestly.

He gets up and unlocks the door all the same, opening it to reveal Logan as he assumed, in his navy sleep shirt and shorts, and Virgil, looking a tad more tired and sheepish than the other, in a black tank top and joggers.

And Janus does not know what persuades him, but he opens the door further and says, “do come in, it’s not at all late.”

Virgil falters for a moment before trailing behind the seemingly oblivious Logan. And, well, Janus could make a joke about how he never anticipated these boys in his bed, but he decides against it.

“Janus, we are sorry for the late interruption but we thought it best to come and talk to you regarding, uh, the other day and we assumed that you would not appreciate being cornered by all of us so myself and Virgil thought it wise to approach you alone, apologies if this is an uncomfortable subject matter for you but we deem it necessary,” Logan explains, eyes on Janus as Virgil seems to be suddenly very interested in the black silk sheets.

Janus all but forces a casual smirk and wills his tone to remain calm as he closes the door and stays standing as far away from the others as possible, “I understand, my outburst the other day was most certainly uncalled for and will never happen again, forgive me.”

“That is not at all what we mean, Janus,” Logan responds after a beat, “and I think you know that deep down.”

Another pause.

“What exactly do you mean then?” Maybe his tone is too harsh, volatile, defensive. He can tell by the way Virgil flinches ever so slightly.

Logan opens his mouth to say something but clearly thinks best of it and closes it again. And Janus has never been more angry with himself than now.

“What Logan is trying to say is, well, you’ve noticed that we’re all kind of, uh, together-ish, well, mostly and we want to say that… we’d like to, I don’t know, extend the invitation to you too, fuck, that sounds really fucking formal,” Virgil finally grits out, voice quiet and rough, clearly nervous as his fingers pick at the sheets and he meets neither of their gazes, “we like you a lot, Janus, and we realised that we’ve kind of been dicks to you without even realising it and, well, that’s shitty of us and we’re sorry but we want you in this fucked up little relationship of ours too, it’s not the same without you.”

Janus, well, he laughs. He can’t help it, a short, sharp laugh escaping him before he can stop himself. He is sure Virgil is overly anxious especially now and he would not be surprised if Logan got up any moment and punched him in the face.

“Sorry, I just- it is kind of funny how I always thought you all never wanted me, you never needed me, I just assumed that, well, you were all doing just fine without me and you made that all very fucking clear,” he says, voice wavering, “I felt so, so excluded and you all just did nothing. I was so fucking alone, I had no one, you left me Virgil, you left us, and- well, fuck, Remus left and then I had no one. So, excuse me for feeling a little pissed off at you all.”

He sighs, runs a hand through his messy bed-head before coming to sit at the bottom of his bed across from the other two.

“I love you all, I do, individually and in some ways different to others but I loved you all and it hurt me so much to see you all go, it broke my fucking heart, and I don’t know if it’s fixable.”

They’re both looking at him now, softly, gently, beautifully.

“But I was jealous, so very jealous.”

He lets himself cry, silently, wiping away the tear trails with his bare hands. That is until each of his hands in captured by either man on his bed with him. Virgil’s hand is soft and warm, comforting, and familiar. Logan’s is cold, his fingers longer and able to touch more of Janus’ own, it makes him feel secure in a new way.

“We’re sorry.”

“I’m sorry too.”

*

They talk. All of them. Sometimes together, sometimes just two or three of them. Janus is slowly opened up to their relationship dynamic that is far more complex than he would have imagined. And he realises he does not want to kiss all of them in that way, only wants to hold some of them, touch some of them more intimately. But he wants all of them in their own special ways. He becomes closer to them all over time.

He kisses Patton on the forehead for the first time and the father figure bursts into tears and does not let him out of a hug for at least an hour when the others find them. He’s fond of holding Virgil’s hand, it is almost how they used to be but different, more open and accepting of their emotions, it is nice in a way Janus would never have thought of before. He enjoys kissing Roman, gently on his mouth, or even just catching his cheek, it is soft and the romantic flushes before offering a sweet kiss in return or, heaven forbid, a kiss on his hand. As for Logan he enjoys his presence, leaning up against one another late at night or early in the morning when the others are still in bed or occupied, reading or listening to music, there is a soft, unspoken love and gentleness between them.

Then there is Remus. For a while, the other does not dare come near him alone out of fear. And Janus understands the same feeling. Regret, guilt, abandonment. But when he finally gets Remus alone, gets his arms around the other’s torso and buries his head into the crook of his neck. He never wants to let him go again.

He never wants to let any of them go.

-----------------------------

Please reblog if you enjoyed this fic! I am still open for commissions, DM me :)

[simpingforsoftboys]

Curiosity Killed the Cat

ft. Kuroken

G/N Reader

Read this first

Mini Series Here

Thanks so much for the request anon! I actually went back and forth with this- but I’m finally satisfied with how this turned out! Hope you enjoy!

Kenma hated these types of events. Blaring music, flashing lights, horny drunk people, crowded spaces. Yes, parties were the worst- but it wasn’t like he could tell Kuroo “no, I’m not going to attend your best friend’s 27th birthday party just because.” Which is why they’re in Osaka and not Tokyo at the moment. Kuroo had gone off to god knows where- claiming he was going to get some drinks for them- but that was 15 minutes ago and he still hadn’t returned. Shoyo was arriving late, so there was no one the dyed blonde felt comfortable with speaking too. Seeing no other option, he decided to seek Kuroo out on his own. 

“Excuse me.” The short male muttered as he nudged people aside to get to the bar. No one seemed to mind, too caught up in their dancing- probably thanks to their alcohol induced haze. His skin crawled in disgust as he passed by some chick who was making out with Miya Atsumu- if Shoyo was right with his suspicions, Sakusa Kiyoomi would not be happy. He pushed that thought aside. Eventually he made it to the bar- successfully locating Kuroo. “I was waiting what’s-” He was shut up by his fiance’s hand over his mouth. 

“Shh... look over there, across the counter- is that Y/n?” Kenma followed where Kuroo was pointing, they couldn’t see the persons face, but they had a similar figure and skin tone to your own. Suddenly the person turned- but they realized that it wasn’t you. 

It had been two, nearly three years since your emotional breakup, and they still found themselves looking for you in every room they entered. Kenma hadn’t gotten over his love for you- he doubted he ever would, but it was just another thing he had learned to live with. Kuroo slowly began to realize how much of an impact you had on his daily life, things he had previously taken for granted like a homemade meal at the end of a long day, hot bath prepped and ready, folded clothes and cute little notes. Those things were gone now, so he and Kenma had to step up and do it- until eventually they just decided to hire someone to do it for them. It wasn’t the same- sure, the housekeeper did an amazing job, but the difference was palpable. It sounded dumb but they could just feel the lack of love- your absence had created a void in the large penthouse. 

It had taken time, but Tetsuro realized that yeah, he did love you- not as much as Kenma- yet, it was a tangible love all the same. Which is why it hurt him that day- not only because you left them, but because you didn’t feel loved by him. He couldn’t find it in himself to be angry at you- that was his own doing. All you had done was leave him with happy memories. 

Kenma found himself reverting back to his old habits. Their home was a lot lonelier without you. Kuroo often went on weeks- if not months long- business trips for the volleyball association, leaving Kenma home alone for lengthy periods of time. No longer did he have you to keep him company or monitor his sleeping or eating habits. Even his viewers had noticed his unhealthy lifestyle and urged him to take better care of himself, but it wasn’t the same. So, without anyone there to stop him, he would fall into ruin- because then, when he was exhausted or kept occupied by the newest trending game title- he wouldn’t be thinking about all that he was missing. 

Neither of them had spoken- or even checked up on you since that day, those  few years ago. You had blocked them on everything, made your accounts private, changed your phone number, and asked your mutual friends to not share anything about you with them. It hurt- because how can you so easily shut out the people you love- but after much thought and consideration, they realize you had to be hurting twice as bad as they did. Unlike them, you had the time to simmer in your pain, hurt, and longing, while they remained oblivious. 

Ignorance was bliss.

The two of them left Bokuto’s party early that night, Kuroo said something about an emergency Skype meeting in the morning as an excuse. In actuality they found themselves driving to one of your favorite restaurants- they hadn’t stepped a foot inside the establishment since the last time they ate here with you. But- as it was for many things apparently- tonight seemed to be one all about stepping out of their comfort zones. 

“What are you getting?” Kuroo tried to act casual, but Kenma had known him much too long to fall for his act. 

“I think I’ll get (f/f).” 

Kuroo nodded. “I think I will too.” Neither of them particularly liked (f/f), but it had been your go to order. Maybe by being here and eating the familiar dish, they could pretend that they were simply on a date as a triad- and you were running late- instead of dealing with the reality that they were a couple now and not a throuple. 

Their food arrives and they dig in, eating slowly, eyes shutting occasionally, it seems like they’re merely savoring the flavor- when in reality they’re trying to picture you dining with them. No words are exchanged between the two- they’re together yes, but it’s somehow a lonely occasion all the same. 

If you were here, the table would be filled with easy conversation- you were always so neutral when you spoke, teasing when you felt particularly daring (they realize now that this was such a rarity because you were hesitant about starting an altercation- which no one should have to be afraid of in any relationship). Kenma would let himself loosen up and exchange snarky words with Kuroo, who quipped back savagely, and you would watch them- laughter spilling from your lips. Too bad they didn’t try harder to include you in the conversation- not that they intentionally alienated you- just that they were enjoying themselves too much to bat an eye in your direction. 

Yeah, it was better for you that you weren’t here. That was a fact they still had trouble stomaching. 

They hear the restaurant’s door opening in the background, but don’t care enough to look who entered. It doesn’t matter to either of the two that it’s late at night and logically there shouldn’t be anyone else here but them. Their imagined scenario is much more appealing than real life. 

“Put me down Tsutomu!” A male scolds from the lobby area, despite their best efforts, they’re unable to block the newcomers voices out. 

Another male laughs in response. “Calm down Kenji, I got you!” 

“Hahah! Why are you so red Kenji-” Someone else adds, this person’s voice is familiar. Kenma and Tetsuro freeze at the sound. It’s kind of weird how they recognize it- despite having slowly forgotten what it sounded like over the course of passing time. You know how each time you recall a memory it actually ends up altering it a little? That’s how it was with your voice. Eventually their recollection of it was changed to the point that they couldn’t quite remember how exactly your laughter sounded, or even how your pitch changed with various moods. 

Their ears were filled with you- wonderful, gorgeous, breathtaking you- the one who cared too much and pushed aside prioritizing yourself until eventually you couldn’t take it anymore. The Y/n that they still, could never seem to love enough- even now. But it was dissimilar all the same, since you sounded so happy, so content- what was weird was that they didn’t even need to see your face to confirm it. 

Neither of them dare to look in your direction, afraid that you’d disappear right before their eyes. It isn’t until they see your approaching figure in their peripheral that they glance over. 

You’re positively glowing. It feels like you’re an entire galaxy- so far and out of reach- and they’re merely stargazers. They’re stuck on Earth, forever fated to watch and appreciate your splendor from an impossibly wide distance.

The purple-nearly black haired man that accompanies you pulls your chair out, gesturing to your seat with exaggerated motions. You laugh, sitting down in the most graceful manner possible and let him push your seat in. He places a kiss to your temple before going to pull out a chair for the other brown haired male- whose cheeks are still tinted red. 

The three of you order appetizers and speak about many things- Kuroo can overhear ‘volleyball’ and ‘hospital’ mentioned somewhere in the mix. The two men- your apparent lovers- don’t even have to make an effort to include you in their conversation, it’s like second nature for them, just as it should have been for him and Kenma. They listen intently as you ramble on about whatever, the shorter brown haired one adding his two cents in occasionally, while the taller male questions or presses you for more details. 

“Kuroo I’m not hungry anymore.” Kenma says, and only now does Tetsuro notice how upset his fiance is. Normally the half blonde is composed and neutral, but right now his face is scrunched up like he smelt something sour. The feeling is mutual. He isn’t happy with the situation either. 

"Do you want to head back to the hotel?”

“No, let’s stay a little longer.” 

So they stay, silently watching as you make lively conversation with your lovers. Observing as you polish off your plates and finish dessert, they’re still seated when the throuple pays the bill and walks out the exit. Eventually the elderly owner comes out and asks them if they want to order anything else- a polite way of letting them know that they’ve overstayed their welcome. 

They tell her no, pay their own bill, and head back to their car. They sit there in the parking lot a little longer.

“Hey Kenma.” Kuroo murmurs, fingers drumming on the steering wheel.

“Hm?” Kenma hums.

“Do you think we could have made it work?” It’s a question that they’ve never actually voiced out loud- not even once- in the years since the breakup.

“Why do you ask? You already know the answer.” Is what he receives in response. Kenma’s right, he did know.

“I... guess I needed to hear it.” He says lamely.

He turns the key and starts the ignition. They drive back to their hotel in silence. 

They made their beds a long time ago. So it’s only right that they lie in it- even if the bedsheets are uncomfy and the blanket threatens to suffocate them.

Kenma regrets wondering about how you were doing now. At least before tonight he was able to take comfort in the fact that you still might be in love with them.

The old idiom was right. Curiosity killed the cat. And he certainly felt like he was dying.

A/N: Believe it or not the inspo behind this was the song Good Stuff by Griff. I really liked the whole idea of Kuroken x reader ending on semi good terms. The difference between how their emotions for the reader portrayed here vs IwaOi is an example of this. Unlike IwaOi, Kuroken is able to identify their emotions when given time and space, they’re not necessarily prideful and can acknowledge that despite being broken up with, they’re still the ones who were left with “the good stuff.”

They miss you sure, but they know it’s unfair to want you to come back to them when they’ll never be able to love you as they should. So they don’t even bother wishing or seeking you out. Of course, they do their best to maintain some semblance of a connection to you (like why they look for you in crowded rooms and eat your favorite food), but they’re fine with remaining curious. Of course no one can remain willfully ignorant forever though.

[hongjoongtrasher]

the beauty and the beast (chapter 2)

word count: 5k around

angst, fluff, smut

triger warnings: mention of child abuse, violence etc.

series masterlist

Synopsis:

When you move to a new city due to your father's job, you don't expect to stay for a long and so decided not to get attached to the world around you.

But still, you are "the new girl", unwillingly attracting people's attention because of your family's background. Your strict father expects a lot from you, not to say perfection. And when you are sit next to a certain Jung Yunho, you didn't expect your life to take a radical turn

Yunho always have been hating wealthy people. Or just people who were boasting about all the damn money they had and he hadn’t. Oh maybe it was childish to hate richer than himself, but he didn’t hate them for no reasons. He always felt disgusted by their pity, the way they would just «burn some cash » because they could, because they had too much. He concluded every rich guy was like this, and you weren’t an exception. At the very moment his eyes landed on your person, he could instantly feel this familiar aura. A daddy’s girl, probably richer than everyone’s parents in this school. And just the fact of you sitting next to him was driving him crazy.

He ignored you all the time. And he was glad in a way you didn’t try to talk to him, because he would have snapped all his hatred he was feeling towards people like you. But for a fact, he could admit that you weren’t acting like other rich kids around. The way you flinched when his friend was about to lift his hand at you, also the fact you were lonelier than he thought. Oh yes he indeed noticed you being the silent girl around, and at first he thought it was because you were the new girl, and that it was just a facade and soon or later you would just boast like the others.

It’s already been two weeks since you arrived here and yet you were as quiet as usual. You tried to acclimatize to every thing but as the good girl you were, your father thought it was a good opportunity for you to get into extra classes. Last night, you came back home near midnight, exhausted by this long day after studying like crazy. That’s why you didn’t even care to look at Yunho this morning when you sat down, as usual not peeping a word to him since the incident on the rooftop. Actually you tried to flip over and over again the same problem. Why he hated you this much ? But after some days, you understood he was hating every one the same way. Skipping classes, or when he was making act of presence just sleeping on his desk became the routine but today he was here. You quietly opened your bag to settle your pencils and workbooks. Yunho’s back facing you while he was probably taking a nap. Your English teacher came and when she started the class, she stated. « Alright guys, today you’ll be paired up. I want you to improvise a short sketch with what you learnt this past week. Just pair up with your neighbor. You have fifteen minutes »

Your eyes widened at her statement as you felt your heart throbs violently into your chest. Being in a team with Yunho was probably the last thing you thought which could become true today. And speaking of him, you heard a groan next to you, making you freezing as he slowly turned to you before staring at you.

« Just telling you, I don’t have a clue of what she said, so don’t expect me to do well »

How nonchalant he was at this moment almost made you scoff.

« You should have been here then. » you groaned back while opening your notebook.

His brows quirked at how you answered to him.

« Someone got more brave huh ? » he said before straightening on his chair and looked at the textbook of yours on your desk and took it to read the last two pages to your astonishment.

« Didn’t bring it, so I’ll just use yours. » he explained as if it was the most normal thing in the world.

« Great. » you answered and just scribbles some words on a page. You didn’t want to waste your time for such a jerk like him? At least you would have done your task by yourself, just for yourself and not him. You couldn’t let Yunho drag your grades down…You couldn’t just relax yourself.

Some silence installed between you two while others students were trying to do the task your teacher asked, but instead, Yunho took time to actually look at you. Somehow you looked exhausted, non to say to the verge of fainting. Your lips were pale, and dirk circles could be seen under your eyes.

« Didn’t sleep well last night ? » he asked randomly as he pretended to read the book under his eyes.

You badly wanted to ignore him. What the heck ? Just few weeks ago he openly said he hated you so you just accepted this fact and now he was chatting like you as nothing happened ?

« Studied late » you answered drily.

« Ha, I see you went to those extra classes which are costing your butt’s skin. »

You offered him a dark glare, making him look into your eyes. If course he wasn’t attending any of this, so he couldn’t really understand the situation you were in.

« And ? Is it going to change your life ? »

He shrugged.

« No, but I guess you’re a hardcore student » he hummed before he took his pencil to write down some words on his own paper. « Must be so boring » he added mockingly.

You wanted to answer back to him and spit how rude he was from the first place. You acknowledged the fact your life was boring as fuck, you were the first one to say it, but there were limits to making fun of this matter. Soon your teacher clapped her hands to catch everyone’s attention.

« Alright guys, it’s time. Who want to go first ? »

It was the usual game of « I don’t know what you’re saying », essentially based on avoid your teachers’ eyes and doing as you was busy enough not to make her choosing you. Your teacher smirked. « I see everyone’s eager to go, soooo…Y/N and Yunho, you go first. »

You panicked a bit, because except this little conversation you both hadn’t talked at all about your coed work. But Yunho didn’t seem bothered by this at all and stood up with his paper and just nudged your shoulder so you could stand up and go to the front with him. What was he playing at ?

Actually you thought Yunho was someone who didn’t give a shit to studies. His consecutive absences were not helping for his case but surprisingly, he opened the sketch with a good English. So good that you were surprised, making you go blank for a second. He looked at you before moving his lips silently « Y/N. » You shook your head and continued this weird play. At the end, your teacher seemed satisfied by your work and allowed you to go back to your sits so the next pair could go on.

When you sat down again, you looked at Yunho again.

« I thought you would’t do well » you mumbled.

He laughed lowly and it troubled you. It was the first time you heard him laugh. The first time he wasn’t showing hostility to you.

« You may think I’m a lazy ass, but I got some things stocked in this » he whispered, pointing at his head before leaning back on his chair.

Classes ended soon for the usual lunch break. Yunho got up and got out of the room without a word for you, as usual. Today you decided to stay into the classroom to eat. You never went back on the rooftop since you met the three boys. As you were unpacking the lunchpack you got from Sookja, you just took some time to think about this morning. Was Yunho being nice to you a sign to be more suspicious of him ? You were into your thought when you heard a voice calling your name.

« Y/N ? »

You looked up and saw a girl standing at your desk.

« Huh…Yeah ? »

She smiled to you and said.

« I’m Jisoo, erm…we’re in the same class and…I…Would you like to eat lunch with me ? » she asked shyly.

You were flustered by this sudden proposition. It was the first time someone was reaching out for you since you were in this school. Jason was a petite girl, with shorts hair and pink round cheeks. She looked nice so you couldn’t say no.

« Of course, but…mh, are you sure ? I’m not a good company » you confessed, embarrassed by this.

« I figured out you were eating alone every day and mhhh, I…just want to know you better you see ? I mean, don’t get me wrong ! I’m not approaching you because you’re the newbie or rich girl around ! »

You chuckled at her answer and made some space for her to eat your lunch on this tight desk.

« Thanks…actually I don’t feel like eating with a lot of people » you mumbled, peeling a boiled egg.

Jisoo looked surprised by your statement.

« Why not ? Well, people aren’t trying neither but…It would be a pity to let you out right ? You seem nice, so… »

Jisoo unpacked her own pink lunchbox where cherry tomatoes and egg roll and others nice things were lying inside.

« That’s cute ! Are you cooking it yourself ? » you said, trying to make a conversation.

She nodded with a proud smirk.

« Yes ! I like cooking, but since I’d pack too much I’m doing basic things. You ? Looks good as well. »

« Mh…Actually I don’t know how to cook » you answered uneasily.

« Oh must be your mom then ? »

It was a slippery subject, but since Jason made the genuine effort to come and talk to you, you didn’t feel like making up lies.

« I don’t have a mom…Huh, I mean I have one, but my parents divorced when I was little and…never seen her since » you mumbled, eating piece of kimchi.

Jisoo’s expression went bad and you could easily know why, so you quickly said.

« It’s fine, don’t worry, I don’t try to see her neither so I’m used to. Instead we have a housekeeper. She’s making my lunch every day, so I guess it’s like a mom. »

« Oh…I’m sorry still. I didn’t know »

You gave her a comforting smile as you two ate your lunch peacefully, getting to know each other’s better.

« Say, I saw you this morning with Yunho… Is he nice with you ? » asked Jisoo out of the blue.

You almost had forgotten about your gloomy classmate, so you hummed in hesitation.

« He’s a jerk, the first day I arrived he just openly said he hates me » you groaned, packing back your empty box.

« He hates every one outta here » Jisoo added, not seemed surprised. « But…there are a lot of rumours about him » she said lowly as if she was scared someone would overhear her words.

You arched a brow, curious about those said rumours.

« What kind of rumours ? »

« He’s fighting a lot with other people, basically a bad boy. You’ve seen it already, but he’s skipping classes a lot and no one really knows what he’s doing. » Jisoo explained. « I’ve never seen him hitting someone myself, but …be careful ? I don’t want him to hurt you or anyone else around »

Was he this terrible ? The image of Yunho laughing this morning was still lingering into your head. So you just nodded at her advice. It was almost time for classes again so Jisoo left you and friendly waved her hand at you before going back to her desk while other people were coming back. You expected Yunho to skip class again, but surprisingly his tall figure appeared before the bell rang. He got back to his desk and again laid his head on the desk, ignoring you in the process.

It was Korean history class, and it would be a lie to say it was boring as hell. Although you were still taking notes of every thing, Yunho was still acting like a dead body. He didn’t say a word to you for the rest of the day. And at 5pm sharp, you got out from school to go to your extra classes. You’re still drained from your day, and the idea to study more was giving you a headache. By chance, you were allowed to go alone there, taking the bus.

That’s how Yunho saw you walking to the bus stop while he was going to his motorbike, helmet in his hand. You were a weird girl. Never before he got interested into a girl, all being the same when it comes to approach him for his bad boy vibe like. Bullshit. He hated those childish girls, but surprisingly you didn’t have this side into your attitude. Again, Yunho was shocked to think about you from time to time. « Get yourself back Jung Yunho » his conscious told him before he saw the bus passing by his eyes.

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Days were flying by and your first mock exams were coming at the corner. You had worked like a slave for this days, sleeping few hours a night to study more and more, the menacing shadow of your father planning above your head. Jisoo was eating lunch with you every day since. You girl got closer after few days and you considered her like your friend. She was the first person to hear about your familial situation and the gape, or more the ravine between you and your father. You must say it was a relief to be able to confess every thing to someone exterior to your house.

Jisoo seemed pissed off when you told her you were used not to get attached to people due to you moving almost every year to another city.

« That’s so awful ! » she cried, grabbing the carton of fruit juice you got from the machine.

« Yeah…My father is a stone cold asshole » you mumbled, the straw between your lips.

« Girl, when exams are over, let’s have fun alight ? Fight me if your father says no ! »

Jisoo was so cute. You couldn’t imagine this little girl tossing her fists at your father, but somehow the image was funny. That’s how you promised you would.

This day again you had to go to extra classes, and today was really a day you wished someone would ditch you from this living hell. Waiting at the bus stop, you were spacing out when you heard the sound of a roaring engine before it stopped right before you. The man on the moto lifted the smoked visor on his helmet to reveal his face. You heart stopped when you recognise Yunho. You didn’t know you he could drive such a thing but he seemed proud of it as he smirked to you.

« Need a drive ma’am ? » he asked.

What the fucking hell ? One day he was ignoring you like a ghost and another day he was talking to you and now proposing you to ride his moto ?

« Wha- I don’t understand, what are you trying to do here ? » you groaned back as he stabilised himself and just throw at you another helmet.

« Wear this. » he ordered without answering your question.

You looked at him in hesitation. Was he serious ? Or was he trying to drag you into another salty problem ? As he could read into your head, he rolled his eyes.

« I won’t throw you over a bridge you know ? »

« Huh…So tell me what are you trying to do ? I’m utterly sick of your hot and cold game. One day you’re saying you’re hating me, fine. And another one you’re actually trying to convince me to ride on a motorbike with you. »

« Get on, we’ll talk later » he groaned, glaring at you which intimated you.

Soon enough you were at the back of the motorbike, and before he drove, he took your arm to make you hug his waist tightly.

« Don’t ever let it go. If we fall I’d rather you fall with me than the motorbike » he explained.

You were about to protest, but he drove, making you instantly hold him tightly. It was the first time you were being driven on a moto, and the air going through your hair, the warmth of Yunho’s back against your chest was a total discovery for you. You were scared, not to say terrified. But Yunho was really driving carefully, although he liked to make his engine roar when the road was clear. When you weren’t scared enough to focus on his back only, you tried to see where he was going, and soon recognise the way to your extra classes. How did he know ? After some more minutes of furious roars, he stopped in front of a building you could recognise. He waited for you to get off the engine so he could as well get off.

Taking off the helmet you took a giant breath, your heart beating like crazy.

« How was the ride ? » he asked in a tease, watching you regaining strength.

« You’re crazy. Absolutely crazy » you hissed, shoving his helmet in his arms. « And how did you know it was here I was going ? »

Yunho couldn’t tell you he once followed you until there. Actually, he didn’t know himself why he had followed you, but after some days when he came back there, he saw your figure through a window, totally exhausted almost dozing on your work. Something made him stay here for a while, just watching you from afar this day. You were the representation of what he hated the most, and yet you were just a normal girl, acting like a normal girl. Moreover you looked so tired every day, and he was just wondering until how far you’d push yourself to be this perfect student.

« I just figured it out when I came one the neighbourhood with Hongjoong and some friends. We are hanging out quite a lot here» he grumbled. It wasn’t really a lie right ? Hongjoong and Yeosang were living in this area, so they were meeting quite a lot after classes in the neighbourhood.

You rolled your eyes before staring at him in confusion. Why was he being nice all of the sudden ?

Anyway, you needed to go, having enough of this nonsense.

« Thanks for the ride, but don’t hope to get me on this bike from hell any sooner » you groaned before taking your lead inside the building, not paying a look at your classmate.

Yunho smirked and shook his head.

« Bike from hell… »

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Hours passed, and when the clock showed around ten, classes ended. You sighed and rubbed your eyes from exhaustion, slowly getting out the building to see the motorbike was still here. But not Yunho. Looking around, you tried to see if he was around. Seemed he was not. While admiring his black shiny engine, you got lost in your inner thought again. It was so strange for him to act this kindly but none without saying dangerously toward you. And the fact he discovered where you were studying was still a mystery for you, not totally convinced by the total luck of him running on this place.

« It’s maybe a bike from hell, but still pretty right ? » a voice exclaimed at you, making you jump.

Yunho was back, a bag in his hand from the CU, the nearby convenient store. You crunched up your nose. Why was he still here ?

« I met the guys, and was about to go home. » he explained again as if he could read your thought.

« Oh what a coincidence ! » you mimicked still not convinced if he was lying or not.

« Y/N I’m not lying, Hongjoong literally lives two blocks away from here. » he said seriously.

You sighed and turned around to leave. But when you walked past way his position he asked in a relax tone:

« I got some ice cream, want some ? »

It was going from dumb and dumber. Seriously you couldn’t put a finger on his weird behaviour. With a suspicious look you were about to say no, but he cut you.

« Your brain needs sugar. It’s past ten, and you’ve been studying for four hours straight. I guess you didn’t have diner too huh. »

« And what does it concern you ? » you snapped, turning to face him. « It’s not as if you would be this concerned for someone you hate right ? I don’t understand Yunho, I don’t understand you and your attitude. »

Yunho bite his lower lip, knowing himself he got in a weird situation.

« Yeah I know I said I hated people like you, but I didn’t say I hated you » he mumbled.

There was this embarrassing silent again, only the noises of the city filling the icy atmosphere between you.

« People like me. What do you mean ? Did I do something wrong to deserve this attitude ? » you crossed your arms, decided to cleared this shit.

Yunho felt uneasy to talk about it, but somehow he didn’t want to stay in a bad relationship with you. Instead, he took a ice cream from the bag and handled it to you.

« Eat, I will explain it to you after. » he mumbled, looking away.

You gave him a glance but finally took the ice cream, your stomach making you remember you were starving at the moment. It was a vanilla strawberry ice cream. You almost laughed by seeing this.

« Didn’t know you had so girlish tastes » you said ironically putting the ice cream into your mouth.

« I got mine, what do you mean ? I knew you would maybe get out at this hour and I just felt like buying you this » he justified himself by taking his own ice cream, green tea flavoured.

You both sat down on the empty academy’ stairs to eat your ice creams in silence. There were so much questions you wanted to ask, trying to figure out how to deal with him.

« I’m living alone with my mom. My dad and her divorced when I was ten or something. He was violent dude and was hitting my mom, so he got arrested by the police when the neighbours got fed up by the every day fights. But the thing is…we always had financial problems because of this bastard. He borrowed money from loan sharks, an astronomical amount and got my mom in trouble even after he got arrested. » said Yunho, blankly staring at the floor.

All you could do was listening to him. Surprisingly, you never imagined something this horrible would have happened to him.

« My mom sold everything she had to give the money back, so we lost our house and now we’re living in a small studio. Even though she’s working, her salary is just enough to cover the rent and the rest is going to those loan sharks. »

His voice was weak, almost silent as he felt his barriers falling down. He looked so fragile, his broad shoulders shuddering slowly, his dark hair covering his eyes. You felt your heart sinking at his reflection.

« Of course I wanted to help her as soon as I could get a job, getting some part time jobs but she wants me to focus on school. » he laughed bitterly, watching his ice cream melting. « I’ve soon been taught that school wasn’t going to make things better. And people knowing about my family matters were just doing things out of pity for us. It drove me crazy. I hate people boasting about how nice it is to have money, how nice it is to be a normal happy family and just feel the others like shit. »

That’s how you figured out why Yunho hated rich people. And how he probably thought you were the same as the others he could have seen before. The bitterness you were feeling towards him vanished in an instant. How such a tough guy like him could appear so broken ? How hard must it have been for him all those years ?

« I…I’m sorry. » you muttered, not really knowing how to carry on.

« No, it’s fine. I’m aware you’re from a wealthy fam, but I figured out you weren’t like those bitches gossiping around. » he said, taking back some composure as he ate a part of the leaking ice cream.

« But…How are you doing ? I mean, are you eating correctly ? » you asked, genuinely worried about his health at the moment.

He chuckled and looked at you.

« My grand parents are supporting us. » he said, ruffling his hair with his hand. « The only time I worked during summer break, they refused the money. That’s how I got my moto »

There was another long pause, before you felt the cold liquid from your ice cream falling on your hand, making you yelp in surprise. Yunho smirked and laughed lightly, watching you fighting with your ice cream.

« Eat, I’ll drive you back home…If you let me to, I mean » he said, rubbing his nape after finishing his own snack.

« Alright, but don’t even think of doing the rodeo on the way back. » you grumbled and get on.

Once again on Yunho’s motorbike, you watched the city streaming before your eyes, neons of all colours leaving particular marks in the dark night. The cold air now hitting your body made you hug Yunho’s tighter. You didn’t know how to feel towards him. But you understood the situations he got through and up until now, you thought you’d have done the same if you had to be in the same game. But it wasn’t a game. You knew Yunho wasn’t a real bad guy. Things forced him to do tough tasks. You were ready to forgive him, as long as he promised at least to be this hostile to you.

When you arrived near your big complex, you made sign to Yunho to stop right before the actual building. He turned the engine off and let you get off his moto. Taking off the helmet, you gave it back to him but he stopped you.

« Keep it. »

« What ? But .. »

« It won’t be the last time you will get on this Y/N » he said with a smirk. « But anyway, why did you make me drop you here ? I could go to the right building »

« Erm…I rather not. My father could see this and…I guess he wouldn’t like seeing his daughter riding a motorbike with a boy he doesn’t know. » you spurred out.

Yunho raised a brow at your comment about your father. He barely saw him at your first day but he seemed like a strict man. He nodded.

« I see, well…See you around ? »

« Yeah…if you don’t skip classes » you giggled, relaxed by this friendly or at least less hostile conversation.

Yunho scoffed and ruffled your hair, which surprised you.

« Maybe. »

Then he sent you off, waiting for you to go inside the building before driving back to his empty home. He mostly had said the truth to you, but he voluntarily omitted to add his mom got admitted to the hospital weeks ago. And he didn’t want you to pity him furthermore.

When you stepped inside the silent apartment, you noticed your father’s shoes weren’t at the entrance, meaning he wasn’t home. You sighed in relief, hurrying yourself to hide the helmet in your room, under your bed. Only Sookja got a glimpse at you rushing at your room.

« Y/N ? Is everything alright ? » she asked while she was in the kitchen.

« Yes ! Every thing is alright ! » you shouted back at her before going back to the kitchen to eat the late diner she prepared you.

Sookja took a look at your face. You were indeed tired, but something had changed. She could feel you were less, stressed ? The old woman sweetly smiled to you watching you eat.

« Did something nice happen today at school ? » she asked innocently, aware you normally aren’t really openly talking about your school days.

You looked at her, enjoying the warm soup after the cold weather you faced on Yunho’s bike.

« Erm…Yeah we can say that » you mumbled, slightly embarrassed but yet excited.

Sookja was a confident. You could tell her anything, she would never repeat to your father. She waited for you to keep on.

« There is a ..classmate of mine. At first we were like cats and dogs you know ? But today we sorted things out and I guess it’s fine now »

« I’m glad to ear this sweetie » she said in pure relief and joy for you. « Have you made friends ? »

« There is Jisoo ! She’s a part of my class as well. She’s a really warm person » you said, after taking more bites of rice and others side dishes.

Your housekeeper was happy to know you were getting a better life than you have had until now. She hoped some day you would be free from your father’s influence and fly by your own wings. That’s how she was thinking and wished the most for you.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

After this strange night, days have been more packed. The day of your mock exams, you gave it all, knowing that although it was only a mock one, your father wouldn’t let it pass. After giving back your sheets, you and Jisoo were talking at the cafeteria. The petite teenager stretched and sighed.

« Y/NNNNN ! What should I do ? I’m sure I’ll fail ! »

« Don’t say that Ji’, I’m sure you’ll do well »

« It’s easy for you ! You always have good grades. » she pouted.

« I wished I could have less than 100 believe me » you groaned.

From the corner of your eyes, you glimpsed the tall figure of Yunho with Mingi and Hongjoong. He was sitting with them with the same expressionless face he used to put on at school. But when he was sitting next to you during class, he didn’t ignore you anymore, nor tried to nap. He was surely warming up to you, but it seemed he wasn’t ready to let his friends see him this way with you.

« - today ? » you heard Jisoo’s voice.

« Mh ? Sorry, I wasn’t listening » you said, going back to your friend.

Jisoo pouted again before following your gaze and leaned near to your face with a teasing face.

« Guuuurl, it seems you and Yunho got closer or is it me ? »

« Gosh, Ji ! It’s not what you think ! We just sorted things out, but we’re not friends or things like this » you mumbled back, embarrassed by her behaviour.

« Well, that’s not really the impression I have. Did you remark he’s not skipping classes lately ? »

« Maybe he got enlightened by God to study ? » you suggested in a grin.

You both laughed and today, you felt relieved as you didn’t have to go to extra classes, the academy being closed for the spring break that was soon arriving. Somehow, you convinced your father to let you go to Jisoo’s house for the weekend, heavily pretexting she wanted you to tutor her for the real exams. He seemed suspicious, but since your school grades were good so far, he didn’t have any objections to make.

While for packing your bag, you received numerous notifications on KakaoTalk. Jisoo created a group chat with the others kids who were going to come at her house for the weekend. Mostly girls and maybe some boys, but it didn’t really matter for you only the fact you had the chance to spend time with your friend, making some other friends ?

You happily answered to the text saying you’d come by yourself at the indicated address and time before locking your phone again. When you were almost done packing, your phone vibrated again but this time wasn’t the group chat. « Jung Yunho » appeared at your screen, leaving you speechless for a moment.

윤호

Need a ride for this weekend ?

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[yandere-daydreams]

Title: Practice Makes Perfect.

Word Count: 3.2k.

Commissioned by the lovely @furudolove.

Pairing: Yandere!OC/Reader.

TW: Death, Light Gore, Blood, Graphic Injury, Mentions of Kidnapping, Implied Stalking, Slight Sociopathy/Apathy, Implied Anxiety, Obsessive mindsets.

Her smile was familiar.

Or, familiar might’ve been the wrong word for it. Cozy in the way a hotel room was, stiff and sterile, but repetitive and recognizable, too. Reassuring like a disinterested family, soothing like the buzz of a broken streetlamp, relaxing like being so utterly, completely, absolutely lost, there was nothing you could do to possibly make things worse than they already are. It wasn’t off-putting, but it wasn’t welcoming, either. She didn’t feel intimidating, and yet, you still wanted to keep your distance, like a mouse might from a docile housecat. To stay bundled up in your little corner off the coffee shop, your coat pulled over your chest and…

And then she glanced up, and something in your brain short-circuited.

You really should’ve stopped staring earlier.

Instantly, your eyes shot back to the wooden tabletop in front of you, to the mug you’d almost forgotten, steam still rising off the top. She was a barista, after all, she was working, and the last thing she needed was some creep staring her down for the better half of the last thirty minutes, if only because of that uncanny, unidentifiable resemblance to something you couldn’t name. You weren’t a regular, but she felt new, still awkward with the machines and robotic with costumers, but you couldn’t say you were any better. You’d hardly said a word to her, aside from your order, and you didn’t plan to, not if you could help it. You’d never been good at that kind of thing, and you had a feeling your luck wouldn’t improve with someone so…

Someone like her.

Not that you’d been all that lucky with much of anything, lately. Hell, you were only here because you’d missed your train, and the next wouldn’t arrive for another hour, at least. There were more pressing things you could focus on, like the early shift you had tomorrow, how late you were going to get home, the busted lock on the door of your apartment, but it was easier to hate the rigid schedule that hadn’t bent to your will, the sidewalk that’d been just a little too crowded let you squeeze your way through peacefully, the light snowfall that meant you couldn’t wait at the station, regardless of how badly you wanted to bunker down on an uncomfortable, freezing bench and stubbornly glare at the tracks until you found a way to turn-back time and avoid such a trivial problem entirely. It was easier to focus on the barista, how her black hair fell in front of her face as she worked, how your fingers twitched, moving reflexively to push it back. It was an invasive kind of intimacy, the type that was as unearned as it was unwanted. Irrational and irritating, despite your attempts to brush it off.

Downing the rest of your drink, you forced yourself to stand. The station would be better, and fresh air would help to clear your mind, to stop you from paying attention to things that didn’t need attention. You tried to start towards the door, but you hardly made it a full step before something caught the back of your collar, tugging you back into place. There was a brief pause, a second that stretched out just a little too long, but hesitantly, you managed to turn around, only to be met by the smiling face you’d been simultaneously inspecting and avoiding. Only to be met by her, the barista, the girl you’d been all-but leering at, since you walked in.

Reflexively, you moved to apologize, but she was already talking, already forcing another paper cup into your unoccupied hand. “On the house,” She explained, in place of a proper greeting. You didn’t mind. You couldn’t really say you expected one, not from her. “It’s cold out there, and you’re starting to look like you could use it.”

There was a playful lull to her voice, a hint of something that balanced on the line between an insult and a genuine show of sympathy. You could only bow your head, your eyes suddenly glued to the floor. “I could, honestly,” You managed, the words coming out meeker than you would’ve liked. If she noticed, it didn’t seem to dampen her mood, her grin only growing broader as you went on. “Thank you…”

“Anya,” She finished, her smile never faltering.

“Call me Anya.”

~

You recognized her eyes, too.

Dark, just teetering on the shade where brown begins to blend with back. You might’ve said she looked distracted, but that wouldn’t be right – if anything, she seemed a little too concentrated. You were better about your staring, this time, but it would’ve been impossible not to look over you shoulder occasionally, not to throw a glance in her direction as you ducked behind a rack of magazines. It was a pathetic effort, really, an unnecessary one. It was a corner store, not her bedroom. You were shopping, not setting up hidden cameras. You’d gotten here before her, and you would’ve left if she hadn’t come in, if you could just put a strange resemblance aside and manage to act like a normal, functional human being. That’s what you should do, really. It’s what anyone else would do, whether or not there was the smallest, tiniest, most insignificant chance she’d see you and think, quietly and to herself, that you were a creep.

But, you weren’t someone else. And you really, really didn’t want her to think you were a creep.

So, hiding behind the magazine rack it was.

Currently, you were staring down a display cooler, trying to blend in with the background or melt into the fluorescent lights. You wanted to make yourself less noticeable, to shrink into your jacket and disappear, but that wasn’t an option – you were sure you already would’ve abused the privilege, if you had it. You just had to wait her out. You just had to—

“Another rough day?”

You just had to die. That was it, you just had to die.

At least she didn’t seem uncomfortable, inviting herself into your personal space before you could make the mistake of invading hers, choosing to stand just a little too close, her shoulder nearly touching yours. “Is it that obvious?” You muttered, your voice still low, like you were still trying to hide. A fox, still trying to walk on the leg it’d already chewed off. “I wasn’t really planning on running into anyone, this late.”

You said it like the two of you were friends, like it even made sense that she’d taken time out of her night to talk to you. Instantly, you regretted opening your mouth at all, but Anya only laughed. “I’d offer you another coffee, if I could,” She quipped, nudging you gently, her tone still unbothered, as if she made a hobby of confronting near-strangers. She might’ve, for all you knew. She felt like the kind of person who did. “A little company can’t hurt, though. I’d like to think I’ve gotten good at this kind of thing.” There was a pause, and enviously, you scanned over a dented energy drink. “Lots of training, y’know? People say I have a common face, makes it easier for people to talk to me.”

You allowed yourself a small sigh, a wave of relief washing over you. She must’ve been used to it, the strange stares and that distorted attraction, but you still tried to keep your eyes in front of you, on the sleeve of her silver coat as she reached up, toying with the cooler’s handle. “I don’t really have a lot to say,” You conceded, reluctantly. “It’s just been a tough week. My karma’s been off or something – nothing just seems to go right. Not that anything’s gone that wrong, either.” It was one of the few advantages of living such a small life. If you had the time to worry about whether or not the same girl would recognize you twice, you couldn’t have had much to worry about in the first place. “I’m just… a little stuck, I guess. It’s like I’m treading water, but I still know I’m going to drown, eventually.”

You caught her reflection in the clouded glass, an expression similar to guilt passing across her features and disappearing just a quickly, fading into a small, understanding smile, so unabashedly sympathetic, it almost felt practiced. “Like the universe has a bounty on your head.”

You let out a breath of a chuckle. “I wouldn’t take it that far.”

“Things can always get worse.” It was a declaration, shameless and unabashedly pessimistic, the kind that forced the tension in your shoulders to dissolve and your nerves to settle in the pit of your stomach, if only out of respect for her confidence alone. “But, no one should have to die alone. If you want to walk me home, we could try to stave it off for another twenty minutes together.”

If it were anyone else, any other stranger, you probably wouldn’t have agreed. You hadn’t been making excuses – it was late, closer to sunrise than sunset, and if your luck was going to get any worse, wondering around the city probably wasn’t the best idea. But, there was something about the way she asked, like she already knew you’d say yes, like she already trusted you enough to know you would. You didn’t want to disappoint her. You didn’t want to break whatever golden, idealistic expectations she’d managed to form, in the handful of days since you’d met.

“It’s not like I have anything better to do,” You admitted, letting her hook her arm around yours, pulling you closer to her side as you fought to keep your focus on the ground, willing the heat rushing to your cheeks to cool. “If it’ll keep me alive, I mean.”

There was only a smile in response, bright enough to let you overlook that, despite already moving to drag you to the cashier, she didn’t actually have anything to buy.

“I’ll do my best, this time.”

~

You could’ve sworn you’d seen her apartment before, despite knowing you’d never taken a step past the threshold.

Admittedly, you probably should’ve made more of an effort to change that before springing at the first opportunity to move in. Despite her confidence, Anya liked her privacy, and she always seemed to prefer your place over hers, taking every excuse you offered to spend the night or hand out or, on one special occasion, try and fail to surprise you with a romantic dinner. It almost felt unreal, trying to navigate the strange, empty halls, a cardboard box in your arms and your eyes burning, a side-effect of the white walls and the hanging fluorescent lights, complicated metal fixtures she seemed a little too fond of. You’d have to ask her about that, later on. You doubted your vision would last, if the entire apartment was like this.

“Already lost, babe?”

Your heart raced at the sound of Anya’s voice, but not like it used to, not out of pure, nervous tension. This was a nice sensation, a more pleasant sort of unease, leaving your cheeks flushed and your tongue failing as Anya draped herself over your shoulders, her own crate already thrown into whichever black room she decided it belonged in. She’d wanted to help, but with the Spring heat and how much time the two of you had spent cleaning out your last place, neither of you seemed capable of getting much done. “Can you blame me?” You asked, leaning back and melting into her. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you lured my back to your empty, bleached out murder den.” There was a pause, a slight hesitation on your part. “Which is not what happened, right?”

“Oh, no, not until I see how unbearable you are to live with, at least.” You huffed, attempting to shrug her off, but Anya only laughed, her arms dropping to your waist and her cheek coming to rest against your back. “I mean, I should be the scared one, if anything. After what happened to your apartment—”

“It was just bad luck,” You interjected, already embarrassed. “This kind of thing happens all the time.”

“An entire building burning down is not ‘bad luck’.” She sounded annoyed, but her faux exasperation was half-hearted, at best, a sentiment only backed up by her breathy sigh, all poorly veiled relief and numbed exhaustion. “It’s just a miracle you weren’t home. When you called me, I couldn’t stop thinking about what I’d do if…”

She trailed off, but you knew what she meant. You were still in a state of shock, honestly, still stuck in the same distant headspace you’d been in when you first saw the smoke rising into the air and the caution tape surrounding your neighborhood and the crowds, and you couldn’t imagine it was any less gruesome for her. “It’s not all bad,” You offered, reaching back, running your fingers through her hair idly. “If you hadn’t wanted to go on a date that day, I might’ve actually been—”

You didn’t get a chance to finish. Above you, something creaked, the sound of metal scraping against metal as a fuse fizzled and popped, an electrical static that fell silent just a moment too soon. You barely got a chance to consider moving before you were thrown on the ground, Anya on top of you and a mangled pile of glass and wires scattered across the floor behind her, the invasive light of the hall suddenly dulled into something grey, something absent. It took you a moment to process it all – the cracked floor tiles, the ache forming in the spot where your chest hit the ground, but Anya was quick to recover, a stifled laugh slipping past her lips before she could swallow it back. You might’ve been tempted to do the same, if your tongue hadn’t suddenly felt so heavy.

You might’ve been able to take it as lightly as she did, if the sound hadn’t been so familiar in such an awful, terrifying way.

It was difficult to speak, but you managed, the words coming out faltered and breathless. “I can’t… A-Are you alright?”

“You’re alright,” She mumbled, more to herself than for you.

“I’m fine, as long as you’re alright.”

~

Somehow, you felt like you’d heard her voice before.

Her smile was familiar, as were her eyes and the unnerving emptiness of her apartment, but you felt like you’d heard her voice before, like you’d listened to her, like you’d lied with your head in her lap and you’d heard her, not just something similar, not just an imitation you could convince yourself wasn’t the real thing. It was personal. It was real. It was Anya, even if you knew it couldn’t be. Even if you knew it wasn’t supposed to be.

Even if it had to be, and you were beginning to realize it could never have been anything else.

Anya was trying to be gentle, today. You couldn’t blame her, you’d be gentle if you found her like this, at the bottom of a staircase in a pool of her own blood, bones shattered and ribs cracked and body so twisted, you weren’t sure how she’d even recognized you. Still, there was an exhausted lilt in her voice as she crouched by your side – or, what she must’ve thought was your side, at least. “I knew this would happen.” There was a pause, a spark of agony that flittered across your scalp as she reached down, combing her fingers through your hair lazily. “Took a week longer than last time. Getting you back to my apartment is usually a turning point, but… different rules for different run-throughs, I guess.

“This isn’t the worst thing I’ve seen,” She went on, not bothering to wait for a response she knew wouldn’t come. “Car accidents are usually bloodier. You’ve gotten gutted a couple times, usually a day or two after we’re supposed to meet, and when you get caught in that fire…” She trailed off, and you tried to take a deep breath, something in your lungs ripping and spilling out, as a result. “I had to pull you out of a train crash, once. A fucking train crash. You hated trains, a few cycles ago.”

Anya let out a huff, something between a sigh and a groan, but if she had more to say, she didn’t bother offering more than a parting kiss to your bruised forehead, forcing out a whimper so cracked and so pitiful, you could hardly bring yourself to acknowledge as human. “I’ll see you next time, sweetheart.”

A blocked heel pressed against the crack in the back of your skull, and Anya’s weight shifted with a small, practiced grace.

It hurt, for a moment.

But then, it didn’t.

~

You looked a little different at the start of every cycle.

Anya didn’t mind. You were still you – beautiful, lovable, endearing you, regardless of the color of your jacket or what drink you chose, the day the two of you were predestined to meet. It didn’t matter if you were a little more jittery than you were last time, a little less willing to meet her eyes as she took your order, she could look past that. Whatever gap existed between the two, she could bridge it. Whatever hesitancy dozens of bloody, gory deaths might’ve instilled in you, she could help you overcome it, she could choke it out of you until only admiration was left, the same love she felt for you.

Of course, her goal was your survival, to protect you and get close to you and make sure you shake off whatever awful curse you seem to be under, but Anya found that a relationship was the best way to do that. She’d tried keeping her distance, manipulating individual factors rather than keeping you out of harm’s way directly, but that’d been about as effective as the time she’d locked you in her bedroom and attempted to take a more forceful approach to keeping you safe. She needed to keep a firm hand, not a strangle-hold. She needed to be outgoing, not intrusive.

Part of her was a little worried, albeit not nearly worried enough. She’d been the shy one, the first time the two of you met, stuttering and plain and completely unimportant, and you’d been confident, care-free, a far-cry from the paranoid, anxious shell you’d taken to hiding in, lately. She still loved you, obviously, she doubted she could ever stop loving you, but you were different. She was different, too. Both of you were.

But, Anya couldn’t seem to bring herself to care.

She smiled as she finished writing, reading over the number written onto your cheap, disposable paper cup, her name underneath it, punctuated by a row of hearts, for good measure. You wouldn’t call, she already knew, but Anya wasn’t feeling as patient as she usually was, she didn’t want to wait as long to skip to the fun part of her little routine. It was the least she could do to experiment. If she got lucky, you’d be desperate enough to ask for her help, after a little prodding. And, if she wasn’t, it’d be fine. She was sure of that. It’d always be fine.

She knew what to do if she made a bad impression, if she said the wrong thing, if she decided she couldn’t trust you with your own safety, anymore. You’d already abandoned her over and over again, died and left Anya to smooth over the damage…

She was sure you wouldn’t mind if she chose to be a little selfish, this time around.

[fanfoolishness]

Fulminating (The Mandalorian)

(Din suffers a complication after nearly drowning on Trask. He and the Child recover together. Maybe it's enough. 5000 words, canon-compliant, angst, medical whump, hurt/comfort, sign language. Set during Chapter 11: The Heiress. Don't say I didn't warn you about the whump - but the comfort's there, too.)

Thank you to @lastwordbeforetheend, @art3mys and @honestlyhufflepuff for helping talk me through this! You can also find this story on AO3 if you prefer.

***

The air streams past him, tugging at the free edge of his cloak as he descends. He tilts his head upward, watching Bo-Katan and her cruiser climb to the edge of the atmosphere. They’ll take the ship, and he’ll take the Jedi’s name.

It’s not the deal he wanted -- hell, they aren’t the Mandalorians he wanted -- but she gave him what he needed in the end, and he’ll respect that.

He coughs, chest feeling heavy, and lowers his head as the air rushes past. That’s better.

He aches as the rush of the fight leaves him. He’s not getting any younger, and while firefights are what he’s built himself for, taking an entire cruiser hadn’t been on his agenda. Especially coming off the disastrous crash landing on the ice planet with the kid and the passenger; he’d hit his head pretty badly in the landing, beskar helmet or no, and he still feels a nagging headache now that the action’s over. He scowls under the helmet.

The Rising Phoenix burns clean as the docks rise up before him, and he lands clumsily, staggering. He’s got to work on that. In all the traveling lately, his training has slipped. Koska in particular has given him some ideas for how to better utilize the Phoenix in combat, and he’ll have to consider incorporating the techniques into his own fighting style.

Din pulls a deep breath as he straightens up, slightly winded by the landing. Time to collect the kid and get going.

Leaving would be a good idea, if not for the fact half the port is still quiet. He glances around, realizing it’s still early in the morning and the Mon Calamari he paid to tend to the Crest is nowhere in sight. Fine. Maybe he and the kid will grab some sleep in the inn. How long has it been since they got any rest?

His feet fall heavy on the wooden docks, his boots scuffing. Yeah. A room might do them good.

***

It takes him a good twenty minutes to make his way through the narrow alleys to the Frogs’ home. He’s a little slower than usual, though he’s got good reason to be weary. The door slides open at his knock and the happy couple greets him, gesturing to a water-filled dish on their table. A tadpole splashes back and forth, and Din’s foundling stares at it with wide eyes and half-opened mouth, barely noticing that Din has come for him.

Din almost hates to pull the kid away. He’s downright enchanted by the tadpole (the kid better have minded his manners!), curious and fascinated and protesting as Din scoops him up. He congratulates the couple on their child and heads out into the alley, the kid chattering away unintelligibly. He’s been using that little voice of his much more lately, and though Din hasn’t picked out any words he understands, it’s a comforting sound. He chuckles a bit at the kid’s chatter, the laugh slipping into a brief cough that he swallows down. He wishes, not for the first time, that he could understand what the kid has to say.

The kid’s voice burbles cheerfully in his ears. Probably telling him all about his exciting night, staying with the Frog family. Maybe he’s asking where Din has been, or wondering where they’re going next. Din hasn’t a clue. He tries to pay attention, but finds it strangely difficult to concentrate and walk at the same time.

It’s not far to the inn. Half a klick at most. He’s walking at a normal pace, not running, not sprinting.

So why, then, is he breathing so hard?

He pauses against the wall of a small fishery shop, leaning against it slightly in a way that would look casual to a passing observer. He takes a deep breath, then coughs wetly, chest rattling.

You’re fine, he tells himself firmly, but his chest rises and falls like he’s been running.

His helmet swivels left, right. Quarren, Mon Calamari, humans, they scurry past Din and the child, but more than a few turn to stare at the two of them. This is too open. He needs to get back under cover until he can figure out what’s going on. You are both predator and prey, intones the Armorer, and oh, he knows it. His gut clenches a warning.

The Phoenix roars on his back, carrying them the rest of the way. He holds on to the kid with both arms and the kid giggles, enjoying the ride, but Din just focuses on breathing.

***

The innkeeper stares at him. “One night, then?” he grunts.

Din reaches into his hip pouch, pulls a stack of credits out, more than what’s needed. He forces himself to slow his breathing, though his chest hurts with the effort. He swallows. Modulates his voice to sound gruff and intimidating. “One night. And no questions.”

The innkeeper nods, holding his hands out in an appeasing gesture. “Whatever you say, Mando.” He tosses Din a fob to unlock the room. “Up the stairs, third door on the left. Food sent up to the room’s extra.”

Din merely nods. The kid, nestled in the crook of his arm, looks up at him, frowning. His ears sag down to his collar, and he wraps one hand over Din’s wrist.

Din makes his way to the stairs, shoving past a few Quarren there for their breakfast. They grumble, but they get out of his way; news travels fast about what a Mandalorian can do when pressed. They clear a path for him as he approaches the narrow stairs. With his back to the barroom, no one able to see him directly, he allows himself the luxury of a few deep breaths before he begins. He needs every one.

The flight of stairs isn’t long. Fifteen steps, maybe. But he has to grab the handrail with his free hand, gripping it tightly. His head swims, and the inside of his chest sears, burns, aches. He sucks air through an open mouth, shivering.

“Dank farrik,” he hisses, and regrets the extra breath expended on the curse. He has to rest halfway up the stairs, slumping against the wall with his head spinning.

He makes it up the rest of the flight, through the hallway, to the third door on the left. It slides open and he stumbles through the doorway, barely noticing the door sliding closed behind him as he staggers to the lumpy four-poster bed. He sets the kid down carefully before he sinks onto the bed with a thump. He struggles to remove the Rising Phoenix. He manages to rest it on the floor at his feet, and stays leaning forward, curled up over himself.

What’s wrong with me?

He desperately tries to run the possibilities. Poison? No, no, nothing’s broken his skin, he hasn’t eaten since he left the ship.… He shivers again. Is he sick? This doesn’t feel like any sickness he’s ever known before, coming on so fast like this, hitting so hard…

He sits huddled on the edge of the bed, panting. His helmet’s sensors chime at him. Normally vital signs are measured in the background, but he forces himself to focus on the corner of the display through his visor, where it flashes a warning: Blood oxygen level below 90%.

Oxygen… lungs… going under the water after the kid, struggling as the seal on his helmet slipped, as the seawater rushed up over his face, into his mouth and nose --

But I was fine, he tries to tell himself. He tries to remember if he inhaled the water or if he spat it back out, but all he remembers is frantic choking, flailing, a confusing jumble of cold and weight and struggle. I was fine --

He coughs again, the action bowing him over himself, and he gags on fluid in the back of his throat. He retches, gulps, tastes something metallic. Blood.

Fuck. Fuck.

His mind races. Battlefield first aid is taught to all Mandalorians, but he doesn’t remember what he’s supposed to do here. What here even is. His mind blanks for a second, or an eternity.

He suddenly remembers a function of his helmet he’s rarely used. He toggles it on with a jerky swipe over his vambrace. He can’t carry an entire tank of oxygen with him, since it’d be a clear explosion hazard in his line of work, but the helmet does have emergency oxygen concentrator ability. Enough to double the atmospheric content for low-O2 planets. He breathes deeply of the fortified air, and for a moment he feels a little calmer. This’ll fix things. Just need a little more air, a little rest, I’ll be fine --

It’s not enough.

The display in his helmet says it’s concentrating the oxygen at maximal levels, but damn it, it’s not enough. He wheezes, straining.

The display says a lot of things now. It’s going fucking haywire, streaming readings for his heart rate, his oxygen, spiking or crashing in ways he’s never seen. He forces himself to focus on the room beyond him instead of the screeching vitals, tries to focus on fishnets lining the dingy walls, a cramped closet refresher, a little wooden table to sit at, a round window letting in muted daylight.

It’s not working. Din drags in breath after frantic breath, coughs again, feels something frothy in the back of this throat. He tastes metal. He’s -- he’s suffocating --

No. No. This is just a sickness, I just have to get through the worst of it, just breathe -- just breathe --

But he wants to tear his helmet off, he’s so hungry for air, he wants -- he needs --

Firm pressure on his lap, movement, something besides the flail of his chest. It’s the kid. He’s almost forgotten about him in his struggle, and seeing the kid calms him slightly. Just slightly.

He manages to lower his head, though it makes him dizzy. The kid’s dark eyes stare up at him, his little face scrunched up and worried.

“I’m fine,” Din gasps, though clammy sweat clings to him inside his suit, though his heart still races. Does the kid understand him? He coughs, the sound harsh and wracking. “I just need to -- rest --”

Rest. Yeah. Yeah, that should help. Maybe he’ll be better off laying down in a different position. Holding the kid against him, he tries to ease himself down on the rumpled bedding. But as soon he’s down, he realizes it’s wrong -- on his back, he feels his armor crushing him -- smothering him --

He jerks upright, clawing at his chest, undoing the catches of his armor. His cuirass loosens and falls to the bed beside him. He leaves it. The pressure eases, barely.

The kid in his lap lets out a wail, and Din realizes that the kid knows.

What if I don’t -- what if he’s alone -- if this gets worse -- His heart rate jumps at the unfinished thought, pounding until he can feel the veins in his neck throbbing, the pulse thready. He slumps against the post at the end of the bed, wrapping a hand protectively around the kid. No. I’ll be fine.

He has to be fine. For both of them. He wishes he could tell the kid --

***

Grogu feels, sees, senses ripples in the Force, just as he senses ripples in the water where a frog might be near. Most of the time, it comforts him, feeling its swirls and eddies.

It isn’t comforting now. It’s scary. The Force is disturbed, the ripples churning waves. His protector, his person clings to him, and Grogu feels fear panic wrong.

Grogu flinches, his stomach hurting. He doesn’t know what’s happened to the man, but there’s something in the man’s chest that isn’t right, something that shouldn’t be there, something that makes it not work the way it’s supposed to. Grogu tilts his head up and rests one hand against the man’s armor, whimpering.

The man is shaking. His voice catches. “It’s -- it’s all right,” he chokes, but Grogu can feel how hard he’s working to breathe, how his voice sounds different. It sounds wet.

Grogu whimpers again, tries to reach out in the Force. He has to help him! The man flickers in the Force in a way Grogu remembers once from a misty dream, the day he sent the fire back; he was so sleepy after the flames ran away. But the man feels like he did then, faint and far away, and this time, Grogu understands what it means. Faint and far away and fading.

Grogu tries to talk to the man. Tries to tell him that he can help. He makes his voice loud, but the man’s breathing is louder. It’s not working.

He gets to his feet in the man’s lap, hurriedly bracing his hands against the man’s laboring chest. This close he can hear the wrongness inside him even without the Force, his ears catching terrible crackles over the man’s pounding heart. It shouldn’t sound like that. He knows it in a way he doesn't have the words for.

The man is soft without the armor, but the cloth and leather he wears are still thick and hard to get through, under Grogu’s hands. Grogu tries to reach, tries to make the Force inside the man move and change. He’s done it before, he has to try now, has to try to help him --

But it’s hard to shift the Force inside the man. He’s still wrapped in most of his armor, no skin to touch. Maybe one of the Masters from long ago could fix the man without touching him, without pressing skin to skin, but Grogu doesn’t know how. He wraps his claws around the heavy vest the man wears under the armor, and he cries at him, trying to make him understand.

“Please --” the man rasps. “It’s -- don’t be afraid --” He coughs again, thin reddish fluid beading at the bottom of his helmet. Flickering -- far away --

Grogu sinks into the man’s lap, breathing hard himself. The man’s fear is overwhelming, making it hard for Grogu to think. He’s felt it before from him when things got scary, but always the man’s bravery was bigger, more powerful, so much brighter in the Force than his fear.

But it’s all that Grogu can feel from him now.

He has to do something. The man still flickers. He looks around wildly, sees the man’s hand, limply resting against the bottom of Grogu’s robe.

“Hey, buddy,” the man wheezes. “You’ll be -- okay --”

Grogu is already pulling at the man’s wrist. He’s seen a little flash of skin here before, where the glove meets the armor. He fumbles with it, but it’s on too tight for him to budge.

“What --”

Grogu pulls hard at the glove, and the man helps weakly with his other hand, his fingers clumsy. The glove slips down at the wrist, exposing light brown skin, a thumb. The man crumples against the post at the end of the bed, the line of him all wrong, head rolled to his shoulder. He’s so faint.

Grogu curls one hand around the man’s thumb, presses the other hand against his palm. The man’s skin is cool and sweaty and calloused. Grogu holds his hand as hard as he can, and he closes his eyes, and he reaches.

He can't make sense of what he feels through the Force. Water, but there shouldn’t be water here. Breathing, but the air doesn’t help. Grogu concentrates, but it’s hard. It’s not like when that other man’s arm was hurt in the dark by the creatures, when Grogu could reach out and feel the way the poison wasn’t supposed to be there, the way the arm wanted to be normal again. The Force flowed to the hurt part, and it made it like it was before.

But now he’s confused, the fear so loud and painful, making it harder for Grogu to understand the problem with the water and the air and the lungs. He clutches the man’s skin, claws digging into his strong hand. He tries to do what he can, tries to tell the man’s chest to be normal, to work, to help.

The Force shimmers. It flows, and something goes out of him, into the man.

But it’s not like before. The other man’s arm got better so quickly, the poison disappearing, the flesh coming back to itself. It doesn’t feel that way now; he’s not sure what it feels like. It feels… like something slow, like something calm and quiet, like something gentle.

Grogu lets go of the man’s hand, his mouth twisting. He knows he didn’t understand enough, didn’t get it quite right. He lets out a soft wail, sinking down into the man’s lap and staring dejectedly at his hands.

He hears a quiet, tired voice. Feels the man shift, feels his hand with the rolled-up glove brush against his cheek. Grogu looks up through sleepy eyes and sees the man’s helmet upright again, looking steadily at him.

“Kid?” A long, ragged breath. A hoarse voice. His shoulders rise and fall with big breaths, but not as fast as before.

The man pulls him closer, and Grogu’s ears swivel. The crackles are getting softer. Going away.

“Thanks, kid,” the man whispers.

Grogu gazes up at the man, and he manages a tired little smile. The man is getting brighter in the Force. No more flickering. And underneath the man’s fear, Grogu senses brave again.

***

Din isn’t sure how long he’s been sitting there, leaning against the post at the end of the bed, holding the sleeping kid in his lap. He only knows he’s been working, and it is work, at breathing.

In, and out.

In, and out.

His helmet display flashes numbers at him. They aren’t normal. Oxygen, heart rate, respirations. But hell, they’re so much better than they were.

He doesn’t know what the kid did. The bare skin of his hand tingles in the cool air, and he’s almost afraid to cover it up again, in case it reverses what the child did to him.

For him.

All he really remembers -- things are hazy, even though it was at most only a few hours back -- is the panic, darkness at the edges of his sight, a terrible, unending hunger for air.

And then something quiet and soft, gently washing over him. It was enough.

He coughs again, but it’s easier than before. The rattle’s faint, thin, clearing. He’s not a medical droid, but he’s sure of it anyway: he’s going to make it.

The kid yawns beside him, half-wrapped in Din’s ragged cloak. He squints up at Din, his expression wary. Worried.

“Hey, buddy,” he says, his throat raw. “Are you okay?”

The kid whines a little, his ears swinging low at the way Din’s voice sounds so rough. Din feels an ache that has nothing to do with his lungs and everything to do with the kid’s anxious face.

“Don’t worry. I’m gonna be fine,” Din manages. “You helped me. Saved me.” The words are hard to force out, but he knows they’re important. Hell. What the kid must have seen -- what he must have thought was going to happen -- He freezes, remembering a dark cellar, explosions, a day of red robes in the smoke.

No. That’s not gonna happen. Not to him.

Din cradles the kid into a hug, his ears brushing against Din’s chest and shoulder. The kid hugs him back as hard as he can with his small arms, and he can feel the child trembling.

“Hey, hey,” Din murmurs, though he’s getting winded with all the talking. “I’m sorry I --” He huffs, keeps going even though it’s difficult. “I’m sorry I scared you.”

The kid reaches up to rest one clawed hand against the cheek of the helmet. Din blinks, startled at the closeness, but the kid keeps his hand against the beskar. Din mirrors the gesture, resting the knuckles of one hand against the child’s soft cheek.

“We’ll be okay. You and me, pal. Understand?” he asks gently.

The kid blinks those large, dark eyes, and Din wonders if he’s failed to reach him. Then the child lowers his hands, letting out a cheerful babble with a tilt of his head, and the tension in Din’s chest and gut falls away.

Yeah. He’ll be okay.

The kid chirrups again, voice rising in a question. Din thinks he recognizes what the kid is asking. “You hungry?”

Food. He dimly remembers a few ration bars, tucked in at the back of his belt, swiped from the Crest before they’d left. He sets the kid down beside him, then pulls out two bars and unwraps them both for the kid. Din’s thirsty, after everything, but the idea of food holds no interest yet.

“Here,” Din rasps. “Eat.” He carefully straightens up, taking a moment to slowly swing his legs over the edge of the bed. What normally takes a second leaves him breathless.

He gets to his feet, using the bedpost for support. He’s still wearing boots, his armor aside from the cuirass. It’s all so much heavier than it should be. He lets out a hiss between his teeth and crosses the room to the refresher, one step at a time. Water.

Once inside the refresher he sinks down onto the seat, removing his helmet and setting it into his lap. He glances up and sees his face in the cracked, streaky mirror, the skin blotchy and pale, hair a matted tangle, eyes swollen. There’s residue on his face, dried pinkish red around his mouth and nose. The sight makes him run cold.

It had been so close.

He flicks the water on, strips off his gloves and sets them into his upturned helmet. He cups his hands together beneath the faucet, the cold water spilling over the edges of his palms.

He drinks, and it’s enough.

***

The ship awaits them. Unfortunately, it's barely better off than it was when they left it. The Razor Crest drips with Mon Calamari detritus, rope rigging and tangles of seaweed crisscrossing the ship's hold. Din shakes his head, stepping aboard with the kid in his arms. It’s not great. It’ll do to limp along to something better.

He allows himself a faint chuckle, putting himself in the same category.

He’s mostly recovered. He can still feel it, the way his lungs don’t fully expand the way they should, the way he gets a little winded when he’s up and walking around. But he’s so much better than he was, and getting better every day. Thanks to the kid, and his powers.

He glances down at him; he seems fascinated by the Crest’s new decorations. Din brushes a hand over the back of the kid’s head and the little one coos, reaching out to bat at a clump of seaweed.

“You like this, huh?” he asks. “Don’t get used to it.” Soon as I’m up to it, this stuff’s getting spaced.

The kid giggles at the slimy seaweed in his hands, and Din softens. Maybe he’ll leave it up for a little bit, anyway.

He carefully takes the ladder up into the cockpit, only huffing a little. He’s grateful for the way he takes oxygen in, the way it sustains. He finally turned off the oxygen concentration function of his helmet this morning, and he hasn’t missed it. It’s a good feeling, one that’s been growing as he’s gotten closer to recovery.

He doesn’t remember much of the past few days. He remembers the Quarren innkeeper hollering outside about their time being up, until Din lurched to his feet and shoved a pile of credits at him through the crack in the door. He remembers the innkeeper, mollified, bringing up bowls of steaming soup and leaving them out in the hall for Din to slowly bring inside, one at a time. He remembers how good it tasted, rich and briny and hot, hot, hot. He remembers sighing so loudly the kid’s ears twitched, and the kid let out the longest, tiniest, happiest sigh Din had ever heard.

***

He remembers a realization.

He had found it hard to talk on the second day, between the lingering heaviness in his chest and the bone-deep exhaustion. The kid, though, had seemed to bounce right back after using his powers, and had taken to relentlessly exploring the room for things to do.

Din watched him roam, crawling under the bed, playing with the empty drawers of the dinged-up dresser, trying to climb up the wall to see out the window. The kid was gonna hurt himself if he wasn’t careful, and Din couldn’t afford another scare. He reached out and planted the kid on his lap the next time his circuit around the room brought him close.

Inspiration struck. So it was hard to speak. So what? He had options.

He held up a finger. The kid watched keenly.

Look here, he signed in Tusken, fingers splitting and then rising up to his visor. The kid tilted his head, focusing.

We can talk like this. A wide sweep, a hand raised up near the mouth, palms spreading wide. Din waited. The kid had seen him use Tusken before, but for some reason, Din had never tried it with the kid. He’d always seemed to understand Basic well enough for how young he seemed to be, but he’d never spoken a word of it that Din could make out. He wondered why he hadn’t tried this earlier.

Do you understand? Din asked, hands flattening, circling, ending with a soft point of the index finger. He asked it a few times, varying the speed and size of the question, trying to see if the child understood.

The kid’s ears quivered, as if trying to catch something far in the distance. He held out his small three-fingered hands, and tried a clumsy sign for you.

Din leaned forward, hitching a sharp breath at the effort. Do you understand me?

The kid signed you again. Tried it a few times, the word smoothing out the more he tried, getting clearer.

Good job. It was hard to say if the kid really got it, or if he thought it was just a game. But it was promising to see his ears perking up, his dark eyes wide and interested, his mouth in a toothy, tiny grin.

Din smiled beneath his helmet. If this worked, they might be able to understand each other a lot better. The kid could ask him for help. Din could make it clear what was off limits and not to be bothered with. It was heartening as hell, a bright spot glimmering in the midst of some of the shittiest days he’d had in years.

And then a name swam into his head, causing his hands to drop, slowly, back into his lap.

Ahsoka Tano.

It wasn’t going to matter soon if the kid learned Tusken or Basic. He’d be back with the Jedi.

And Din would be alone, again.

His hands, trembling, spoke for him. Fingers flashed much too quickly for a beginner to learn; phrases scaffolded in front of him, words in motion, hands unfolding with meaning he knew the kid couldn’t hope to guess. The little one gazed up at him.

Thank you for saving my life --

I promise I’ll help you, no matter what --

I’m really going to miss you, kid --

Din’s eyes stung. He blinked once, twice, and stilled his hands. He’d said too much. The kid reached out and held onto his palms, his hands weighing almost nothing at all against Din’s own.

Din swallowed, looking into those trusting eyes. “Okay, kid,” he said hoarsely. “Come on. Let’s try again.”

***

Din shakes the memory off. He knows what he has been quested to do, that Mandalorians keep their word. He’s promised to find the place the kid belongs, and he would rather die -- nearly did -- than leave that promise unfulfilled.

The door to the cockpit slides open, and Din groans. The Mon Calamari’s handiwork is even more ridiculous here than in the rest of the ship. A dangling fishnet slaps him in the helmet, and he shoves it aside irritably as he buckles the kid into his favorite seat. Even through the helmet, the whole place stinks of brine.

“Mon Calarami,” he grumbles. “Unbelievable.”

He powers up the ship, starts easing it into the atmosphere. The ship shakes beneath him, clearly wounded. He can tell by the feel and the instrumentation that the ship should hold together for travel… barely.

A strange noise catches his attention, and he reaches out, grabbing some kind of sea creature that looks like it was about to pounce on the kid. The child burbles with delight and Din shakes his head. If it’s not one thing, it’s another. He squeezes until he’s sure the creature’s dead, then hands it to the kid for a snack. It’s not as hideous as some of the things he’s seen him eat, anyway.

“I finally know where I’m taking you,” Din tells him. “But it’s gonna be a bumpy ride.”

The starfield opens up before them. He takes a deep breath -- hold together, now -- and punches it to hyperspace. The stars ribbon past them, and Din leans back in his seat, relieved. It’ll be enough to get somewhere safe. Before they find the Jedi.

The ship vibrates around them, and Din makes a running list in his head of things he needs to check, wiring that needs to be redone, processes to recalibrate, repairs that need to be made, Mon Calamari detritus that needs to be jettisoned. He could start work on it now. Get it done. It'd be the efficient thing to do.

Instead, Din turns to the kid. “Hey. You wanna practice what we learned?” His hands flash before him as he speaks, tracing out the sentence structure in Tusken. “You can do it.”

He knows he doesn’t need to bother. He can speak again without losing his breath, and what’s more, he knows the kid will leave him soon. He knows it’s not enough time to teach proficiency, that it probably won’t make a difference for the kid in the long run.

But the kid likes it, and Din does, too. Maybe that’s enough.

The kid stares at him intently, moves his small hands in little circles, makes a fist. He grins, clearly pleased with himself.

Din laughs, hands shifting in affirmation, echoing the kid’s words. “That’s right, kid.”

The kid’s hands sign again, repeating the phrase Din had gone on to teach him, the signs clumsy but clear.

You. And me.

[lumelii]

BREAKING IN ~|~ FUSHIGURO TOJI X FEM!READER

Summary: Your business partner and you are celebrating the end of a difficult project. Lucky you. 

Content Warning: nsfw, smut, fwb situation, FEM!READER established "relationship", dilf!Toji, face fucking, slight degradation, face slapping (just once) (if I forgot any let me know)

Note: Big thank you to Moni and @shokami for being my guinea pigs on this one. 

Word Count: 5.1k

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

There were few things Toji liked about traveling for work. He liked seeing new places. He hated long plane rides. Hotels were nice, but sleeping on the mattresses for too long wreaked havoc on his back. He enjoyed making new business connections. Most importantly, however, he hated leaving his kids for long periods.

They were on his mind now, as he checked his phone periodically through the business party he was attending, celebrating the completion of another building Fushiguro Design Group had planned and engineered, this time in New York City. It was almost time for them to go to school in Tokyo, usually one of them called before they left so he knew they were up. His finger paused over the home phone contact for a moment before he put it away with a sigh. Megumi and Tsumiki were both teenagers now, almost in high school. They didn’t need him hovering all the time.

“Congratulations on another success, Mr. Fushiguro.” One of the executives of the company who contracted the firm came up to shake his hand. “You really outdid yourself this time.”

“It was a group effort.” His eyes searched the room, hoping to find a distraction to get him out of this conversation before he put his foot in his mouth. He didn’t deal with clients, he had employees who did that. He wasn’t great at curtailing his frustrations when in conversation. Especially with this client, who changed their design at least four times, which meant he had to redo all the math. Four times.

Luckily, his distraction came just a few seconds later as his phone began to ring. Looking at the caller ID, he felt a wave of relief seeing his home phone number. At least that meant one of the kids was up. He wasn’t counting on Gojou.

“Please excuse me.” Toji stepped away and walked out onto the balcony just off the ballroom, closing the door securely behind him before answering.

“DAD!” He held the phone away from his ear just slightly when Tsumiki yelled even before he said hello. He brought it back to his ear once he was sure his eardrum wouldn’t be ruptured.

“Good morning to you too, princess.” He answered sarcastically. “How are you? Getting ready for school?”

“Megumi stole my notebook again!”

“I did NOT!” Toji heard Megumi yell in the background.

“It had my homework in it! If I don’t get it back, the teacher is going to dock points!”

“Did you already look in your backpack? Everywhere in your room?”

“No, because Megumi took it!”

“Princess, look in your backpack and your room first. If you can’t find it, have Gojou help you. Now give the phone to Megumi.”

He heard her huff and set the receiver down, yelling for Megumi to get on the phone. A few moments later, the receiver was picked up again. This time, Megumi’s voice. “Hi Dad.”

“I swear to god, Megumi, if you have her notebook and you’re lying about it just to bother her—” Toji warned.

“I’m NOT!” He yelled again. “I was over at Yuuji’s house last night anyway, why would I need her homework when we did ours together?”

“Why weren’t you home last night?” Toji’s eyes narrowed even though his son couldn’t see him. “It’s a school night.”

“Yuuji and I were working on homework. Plus his neighbor made sweets. She sent some home with me. I’ll save you some. Are you coming home soon?” His tone was hopeful. It made Toji’s chest hurt. He missed his family.

“I’m going to be on the first flight back tomorrow morning, I promise.” Toji told him. “Are you ready for school?”

“Not yet. I can’t find my slacks.”

“Look on the right side of your closet, they’re probably in there. Where’s Gojou? Can you put him on the phone?”

“I think he’s still sleeping.” The phone was set down again, and Toji had to wait what felt like forever until he finally heard Gojou grumbling on the other end of the line.

“G’morning sunshine.” He yawned. “What’s up?”

“Are you aware the kids are ready to tear each other’s throats out?” Toji frowned. “And why are you still sleeping? They’re almost ready to leave for school.”

“Kento was on the phone late last night freaking out, I had to calm him down.” Gojou stifled a yawn again. “I made sure they have their breakfast and their school stuff is ready.”

“Tsumiki’s missing her notebook.”

“It was in the living room last I saw, I’ll make sure one of the dogs didn’t take it.”

“I KNEW IT!” Tsumiki screeched in the background.

“Shit, I have to go, Toji. Call later.”

The line went dead before Toji could ask any questions. He looked down at his lock screen with a frown, debating on calling back but ultimately deciding against it while he put his phone away. He would call later once both kids were at school, and keep an eye out for breaking news of fratricide in Tokyo.

He looked to the balcony doors when they opened, relaxing slightly when he saw his preferred distraction walking out with two drinks in hand. 

You closed the door behind you before walking up to him, holding out his favorite, an Old Fashioned. “I thought I’d find you out here.”

He took the proffered drink and downed it in one gulp while you sipped your Gibson carefully. “Am I that predictable?”

“When it comes to these kinds of parties, yes. Either you were about to lose your temper and needed a breather, or you had to take a call.” You answered. “Problems at home?”

Toji shook his head. “Just wish we were back.”

“It’s been a month. I can’t wait to get back to Tokyo. No matter what anyone says, no one can beat Tokyo ramen.” You leaned your elbows on the balcony railing. He leaned next to you, copying your pose while you both looked over the glittering New York skyline in silence.

“Why don’t we focus on projects at home for a while?” You offered. “Or in Japan, at least. That way we wouldn’t have to be gone for too long, you’d still be able to go home at night.”

“We have some pretty big clients lined up in Dubai and Europe. I don’t think they’d want to wait until we felt like traveling again.”

“You’re the boss. If you don’t want to go, you don’t have to.” You reminded him with a smile. “I can take someone else with me, then send the specs once we’re done. I’ll even let you pick your stand-in.”

“I’ll pick my stand-in whether you like them or not.” He smirked before continuing. “I’m the boss.”

You rolled your eyes and took another drink. “Just don’t make it fucking Ren. I can’t stand that asswipe.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” He promised.

The conversation wasn’t typical between a boss and employee, but you were more than that. You were partners at the firm, Toji was just the one in charge. You’d built the firm together from the ground up, making it the success it was today.

He had come to you, needing an architect for his own firm back when it was only an idea, offering two-hundred million yen out of his personal coffers as an incentive. But it wasn’t the money that had made you say yes. It was the almost maniacal determination in his eyes. He had something to prove, and he would burn the world to the ground to do it.

You learned later his wife had just died a few weeks prior, and it was part of his promise to her on her deathbed that he follow through with his plan of opening his firm. You’d been with him since the beginning, in the early days where you both spent countless sleepless nights completing projects other firms only dared to take on, through the intervention staged by his two closest friends Nanami Kento and Gojou Satoru, as Toji became consumed by his work as a way to suppress his grief, to the point where his son almost didn’t recognize him when he came home. You’d been by his side through the boom of success that befell the firm just a few short years after its founding, along with the money that soon flooded both your pockets, and his second “marriage” to a model he met at a film festival, who promptly disappeared after moving her daughter into his home. He had been surprisingly calm through the whole ordeal, submitting the paperwork to make Tsumiki his own once they were completely certain her mother was never coming back, with a hefty cash incentive and NDA to tie it with a nice bow.

He’d been through a fair amount with you as well, dealing with toxic family that had come out of the woodwork as the company started to increase your wealth, demanding money for so-called “investments” they had made into you by providing basic care until you finally left at fifteen. Through the sudden death of your fiancé, where Toji was the only one who could understand and help you navigate through the unending darkness that consumed your life for almost a year afterwards. He’d ignored some of your questionable choices as you tried to adjust to your new normal, but also was not afraid to step in when necessary if the choices turned destructive. You had thought it was just to protect the interest of the firm, but when he had come to your apartment after a sobbing phone call on the anniversary of your fiancé’s death and held you so you wouldn’t feel so alone, you knew it was because he cared about you.

“Are you ready to go back inside?” You asked after watching the sunset sink below the horizon, breaking you both out of your reflection.

“I’d rather drive an ice pick through my skull.” He admitted. 

You laughed, the sound echoing off the glass windows and empty air around you. “We could always dip.”

“Wouldn’t they be offended, us leaving early?” He turned to face you with one hand on the railing. You ignored the way his suit jacket strained against the hard planes of his chest.

“Mari’s in there, it’ll be fine.” You said, referring to your project manager. “She loves people. She’ll have them eating out of the palm of her hand.”

“If you say so.” He took the empty glass from you, setting it on the railing before taking your hand to thread it through his arm. “Shall we?”

“Lead the way.”

You made a hasty exit from the party, repeating your excuse of an early flight at least a dozen times so no one would hinder your escape. No one bothered to ask follow-up questions. If they had, they might have found out you were flying private back to Tokyo, and the plane could leave whenever you goddamn pleased, obliterating your excuse.

Luckily, the lie held until you were safely in the cab of an elevator, heading up to the floor that held your two hotel rooms. The company had offered the two massive adjacent suites to you both, taking up an entire floor of the newly constructed hotel. Toji probably could have brought his kids if he had wanted, but he didn’t want to pull them out of school for that long. You were happy to have the entire suite to yourself. It meant you didn’t have to listen to neighbors through all hours of the night, and you didn’t have to worry about keeping anyone up when working late at night. 

“The flight leaves at six tomorrow morning.” Toji told you as you stepped off onto your floor. “There’s going to be a car to pick us up an hour before.”

“Did you already send your bags with the service?” You stopped just outside your door, directly across the hall from Toji’s. 

He nodded. “I saw yours were ready, I had them sent as well.”

“Thank you.” You looked behind your shoulder to your door then back at him, his hands in his pockets, watching you like he was expecting you to say something else. He looked downright sinful in his all-black designer suit, his normally straight hair styled back with hair gel but still looking soft to the touch. The watch that cost more than most people’s houses glinted in the warm light of the hallway as he played with his cufflinks, also worth a small fortune. You would know. You bought them. 

He quirked his eyebrow at your examination, almost like a challenge. Damn him. 

“Do you want to come in for a nightcap?”

A slow smile spread across his face. “I thought you would never ask.” 

You smiled back and turned to the door, inserting your keycard to hear the small click of the lock disengaging, slipping inside with him closely following. “We haven’t broken in this one, yet.”

He was on you before you had the chance to slip out of your shoes. Maybe it was the alcohol that gave him a sense of urgency, the sweet bourbon still on his lips as they slid over yours with a practiced ease, or that you had an early flight in the morning and needed as much sleep as possible to prevent jet lag. If it were the latter, this was definitely not the activity to be participating in.

These liaisons only happened on trips, or late nights at the office or your apartment, where there would be no prying eyes. You both didn’t need questions. It was fulfilling a primal desire, one that burned within you even as both your hearts were locked by grief. There was an understanding. You cared for him, and he for you, but not in a romantic way. You were making sure the needs of a friend were met.

The “breaking in” was also a tradition as well, ever since your first major deal had been completed. When the building was finally complete for a major project, you and Toji would sneak off somewhere to do the deed, christening the building like a bottle of champagne before a ship’s maiden voyage. It had started as a joke, a way to release the pent-up stress that resulted from design and construction but eventually became a tradition. As the business grew over the years, you and Toji had christened well over a hundred completed projects with none the wiser. 

You pushed his suit jacket off his shoulders before moving your hands between your fused bodies to start undoing the buttons of his shirt, working quickly in the tight space as Toji didn’t allow you any room to pull away. You struggled to focus while his kisses moved down to your chin and then your neck, licking and sucking the skin with reckless abandon. You let out a breathy moan as he bit your pulse point with a low growl feeling your heartbeat thrum beneath his teeth. Toji pushed your hands away when his shirt was finally on the floor behind him. He grabbed your face between his hands bringing your attention back to him to kiss you. Ever the multitasker, his tongue explored your mouth while he began his task of getting you naked. 

“Don’t rip the dress.” You warned under his kiss while his large hands grappled for the zipper. “I borrowed it, it has to be in perfect condition.”

“I’ll buy Mei Mei a new one.” Gripping the top of the dress with a hand on each size of the zipper, he yanked hard, the fabric splitting like he had just ripped a sheet of paper as it fell off your body. His eyes went wide as the dress pooled at your feet, revealing the matching black lace set you had underneath. The cups barely contained your breasts and did little to cover your most delicate areas, nipples peeking through the sheer fabric.

“Fucking hell.” He breathed.

You grinned and kneeled in front of him, starting to undo the buckle of his pants. “Paris paid off, then?” 

A sigh fell past his lips as you finally pulled his pants and boxers down, wasting no time to wrap your hand around his thick cock, pumping languidly. His breath hitched as you licked his angry red tip slowly, pulling back to prevent him from pushing past your lips when his hips moved forward. His hand went to the crown of your head, tangling his fingers in your hair. “Shit. You’ve been saving that since Paris?”

“I’ve worn this plenty before. You’ve just never seen it.” Your smirk was devilish. His grip on your hair tightened as you took him to the base, neatly trimmed hair tickling your nose while you forced your throat to relax. You tried to gather as much spit as you could to make the glide easier as you bobbed your head. Toji was a large man with an equally large and impressive dick, almost too much for you to take in. Through years of practice, both on him and several inferior specimens, you had learned just how to hollow your cheeks, how to move, and how to swallow to have a man cumming in minutes flat. 

“Fuck, you okay?” He panted when he thrust involuntarily, hitting the back of your throat and making you gag slightly. Once you composed yourself, you hummed around his cock and nodded. Grabbing his other free hand, you placed it on the back of your head with his other one before taking him back down your throat. A silent invitation. 

He wasted no time responding, beginning to thrust into your mouth with no reserve. You grabbed his hips to steady yourself as you relaxed and remembered to breathe through your nose. Tears ran down your cheeks while he choked you with his massive cock, mixing with your mascara and staining your skin black. The salty tang of precum hit your tongue, mixing with the saliva that fell from your lips the faster he moved. You smiled around his cock when you cupped his balls, squeezing just enough for him to let out a loud groan. 

“Stop.” He growled, pulling you off him and tilting your chin up. He took in your tear-streaked face, your chin and neck covered with a mix of saliva and pre-cum. When he dragged his thumb over your bottom lip, you caught it between your teeth, sucking him in and lavving the digit with your tongue. He chuckled darkly, hooking his thumb in your mouth and using it as a guide for you to stand up in front of him. 

“Messy doll.” He crooned. You had to admit, you were shocked as he leaned forward and licked up your neck, tasting both of you on your skin. While you were distracted with his sinful lips, you heard another distinct ripping sound before you felt the cool air of the room against your bare ass. You broke away and looked down to see your panties in tatters on the ground. 

“Can you at least leave one piece of my clothing intact tonight?” You frowned at him, your voice slightly hoarse from his antics. “Those were expensive. I know we’re made of money now, but I’d prefer not to spend it all.”

He ignored you and reached around to plant a firm smack on your cheeks. “In the bedroom. On the bed.”

You knew exactly what he meant, but you decided to have a bit of fun as you walked through the massive suite. You could feel his eyes on you, almost predatory when you entered the bedroom and caught sight of the king-sized bed, made with fresh linens and piled high with pillows, accented in the light greys and blacks that matched the rest of the suite. You flopped down on the bed with a giggle, back down, and propped yourself up on your elbows to look at him. 

He frowned at your position as he walked forward. “I said on the bed.” He rumbled. 

“I am on the bed.” You played dumb and cocked your head to the side. “What did you mean?”

He shook his head and stopped at the edge, towering over you. “You’re such a brat sometimes, you know that?” 

“It’s a nice break from those girls that call you daddy, isn’t it?” You purred. 

The growl that ripped through his chest made your heart jump and another wave of arousal coat your lips as he surged forward, gripping your hips to flip you onto your stomach and pull them up so you were on your knees, your throbbing center level with his cock. He ground against you, slipping his length along your drenched labia to coat it, the glide easy as your spit mixed with your slick. He was more than ready to pound into you. 

When you tried to prop yourself up on your elbows, he put a hand on your neck and pushed you down so your face was pressed into the mattress. A shiver ran down your spine when you felt his hot breath on your back and trailing up as he bent over you to whisper in your ear. 

“You know, I was going to be nice, maybe take it slow at first so you wouldn’t be absolutely wrecked sitting for fourteen hours on our flight tomorrow.” He hummed. “But now, I think I’m going to like seeing you squirm.”

It wasn’t even a second later before he slammed into your pussy, the stretch almost painful as you wailed at the intrusion and he began a brutal pace that rivaled his speed while he was fucking your face just moments before. You were already sopping wet from sucking his dick earlier, turned on beyond belief as you thought about what lay in store for you after he was done with your mouth being his personal fleshlight. 

“Shit, you’re so tight.” He hissed, spanking your ass to feel you clench around his dick. “No one can stretch this cunt as good as I can, can they? You need a fat cock to satisfy you, those skinny dicks can’t even get you wet.” 

You moaned an affirmative, playing along with his narrative as he pistoned his hips into you. You could feel every vein on him as they dragged along your walls, his tip hitting that soft spot inside you with every thrust. There were plenty of other dicks that had gotten you wet, but it was true his was the most impressive, and the one that had more knowledge of just how to make you scream, monster dick or not. He had that advantage over every other man you slept with. 

The slap of his hips against yours echoed through the cavernous room as Toji grabbed your upper arms, pulling them behind your back and forcing your back in arch, his thrust becoming more shallow but no less punishing. You bit your lip to control the noises you were making, but whines still escaped. 

When the new position didn’t produce his desired response from you, he released your arms without any ceremony causing your upper body to fall limp back to the bed. You gasped as Toji pressed his hips flush to yours, curling his body on top of yours with one powerful arm wrapped around your waist to keep you from pulling away while his tip continually massaged your g-spot with every roll of his hips into you. 

“Tell me how it feels.” He murmured in your ear, his voice steady without any sign of effort. His stamina was something to marvel. 

“You know how it feels.” You moaned back, unable to control yourself. You were so close, just ready to reach that peak if he would only speed up. You reached back with one hand and gripped his hip hoping that would encourage him to resume his previous pace. 

He took your hand from his hip and put it back near your head, delivering a harsh smack to your ass. The sharp sting of pleasure was what you needed for your back to arch, squeezing around him while you fucked yourself back onto his cock to prolong your climax as much as you could. 

Toji pulled out as you finally slowed down, his heavy cock bouncing against his leg as he sat up against the headboard and patted his thigh, signaling for you to climb on. You wasted no time in doing so, raising yourself on shaky legs to straddle his lap. His hands moved to cup your ass as you settled over him, taking his length in hand and sinking down onto it with a sharp exhale through your nose. You could almost feel him in your throat in this position, the stretch still borderline uncomfortable even after he had already stretched you out, coupled with the sensitivity of just having orgasmed. 

His gentle grip turned hard just as you were about to start bouncing to stop your movements. You gave him a confused look but understood when his hands started to guide you in grinding on his lap. The added friction on your clit against his pelvis made you sigh in pleasure, just a tinge of overstimulation creeping through the tightness already building in your stomach again. In this position with the lack of harsh movements he was able to play with your breasts, which he always gave proper worship. 

His large hands made your breasts look small as he covered the left, slipping your nipple between his fingers and rolling it while he cupped the other, pushing it up and licking at the flesh. You sighed at the rough texture of the scar marring his lips against your sensitive skin and wrapped your arms around his head, tangling your fingers in his hair to hold him close. He loved to tease, licking and sucking all around your breasts until you were about to beg, arching your back further into his touch. You hated begging him, hated admitting how well he could affect you. But you had known each other for so long, you knew each other better than anyone else. 

You whined as his lips finally closed around the pert bud, laying the flat of his tongue over the sensitive skin. You felt his lips stretch into a smile against your skin at your vocalizations before he moved to your other breast, immediately latching onto the nipple to produce a breathy moan. You knew he was enjoying himself from the way his hips matched each roll of your own, driving deeper as he got lost in the feeling. 

“I got your milkies.” You whispered, part of your sinister trick to bring him back to earth. You were starved for actual friction, grinding not providing the drag on your insides you craved. 

He pulled back with a soft pop and frowned, though his pupils were still blown out. “You did not just say that.”

You shrugged. “I thought it was funny.”

“Way to kill the mood.” He mumbled, pushing your breasts together to bury his face between them, licking through your cleavage and up your chest.

“Then why are you still hard?” You squeezed down on him deliberately. His eyes grew dark as he looked up at you through thick lashes and you knew you were in for it. 

With one quick movement you were under him, back pressed into the pillows while he kneeled between your legs still holding your waist so he could stay buried inside you, your hips tilted so you were at an angle. You struggled to sit up trying to resume your previous position, but his strong hold on you didn’t allow you any room before he continued burying himself in your velvet walls. You could barely breathe from the force of his thrusts, twice as hard as before but just as fast. 

You could have killed him from how composed he looked as he watched you slowly lose control. He watched you with an almost curious expression, studying how your brow drew together and short gasps fell past your lips while he was barely breaking a sweat. You refused to give him the satisfaction of hearing your moans. If he wanted them, he’d have to earn them. 

“I know you like taking it from the back, but I think I like this better.” He mused, voice even like he wasn’t balls deep in your cunt. “I can see the look on your face when you lose control.”

“Fuck you, Toji.” You gasped, your words stuttering with each of his thrusts. 

“No, that’s your job.” He grinned devilishly and bent down over you, resting on his elbows. “Scream for me, little slut. Let the floors around us know how good I fuck.” 

You opened your mouth to retort but a loud scream came out instead as Toji sneaked his hand between you to roll your clit between two fingers. You barely felt his breath on your skin as you shattered beneath him, screaming just like he wanted as your orgasm crashed over you, ten times as intense as the one he had just given you. You gripped the pillow under your head and turned your face into it so he couldn’t see just how much you were enjoying this. 

In an instant, you felt the pillow ripped from beneath your head and his hand come into contact with your cheek. The sting of his slap was dulled by the pleasure still running over your body as he gripped your chin tightly in one of his large hands, forcing you to look in his eyes, your noses almost touching. Your eyebrows knit together and mouth open on a silent moan made him finally push as far in as he could on a final thrust, painting your inner walls white with his cum as he groaned loudly. The roll of his hips didn’t stop until he deposited every last drop within you, until you could feel his cum leaking out the sides of his dick. How could he cum so fucking much?

His hands turned gentle as he pulled out, smoothing your hair off your sweaty forehead and tracing his fingers over the hickeys he’d left on your neck. He bent down to ghost his lips on your hairline before hauling himself off the bed and walking toward the bathroom. You could faintly hear him rummaging around through your post-coital fog, coming back with a warm damp towel and starting the task of cleaning you up. 

While he did, he grabbed the phone from the room and dialed room service, ordering two meals, along with ice cream at your insistence, billing it to his room. Not that it mattered, you were staying here on your host’s dime. When he was done cleaning you, he laid on his side next to you, smiling down fondly as you still tried to catch your breath. 

“You did good.” He whispered, caressing your face. You managed a weak smile and laughed. 

“Don’t get soft on me now, Fushiguro.” You sighed. “I might just lose respect for you.”

He smiled down at you, basking in the afterglow of your liaison. “Wouldn’t dream of it, doll.”

Tags: @oikawaandkuroostan, @gummy-dummy

[iclaimedtobethebetterbard]

the sky’s open wide, i’m running with the wolves - chapter 1

Fandom: Sanders Sides Characters: All the sides, background Remy, background c!Thomas Rating: Teen & up (see Warnings) Relationships: Platonic/brotherly Virgil with Logan and the Creativitwins; platonic/parental Patton & Virgil; platonic/brotherly Logan and the Creativitwins with each other; platonic/parental Janus with Logan and the Creativitwins; background endgame Moceit.  Warnings: Probably some language; references to Christianity; non-graphic violence.  Word count: 1570 Notes: Wolfwalkers (2020) AU! You don’t need to have seen the movie to enjoy this, though. 

Read on AO3!

My writing masterpost

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Summary: When Patton is charged with hunting down the wolves in the woods, he believes he is protecting his young son Virgil. But Virgil is afraid to watch his father vanish into the woods, and sneaks after him. When Virgil runs into three wolf cubs who hold the secrets of the forest, he has to make a choice: obey the rules he’s known all his life? Or try to help the three shapeshifting boys find their missing father—even though Virgil's always been taught that the only safe wolf is a dead one? As Virgil explores the wonderful world his new friends show him, and uncovers the lies his town is built on, he may be too late to realize that his choices will cost him more than he ever bargained for.

Chapter 1

Remy would never have particularly considered himself a God-fearing man. Oh, he said his prayers and went to church, of course, but it was more a comfortable habit woven into the fabric of his life than something he devoted much thought to. Even at nineteen, he preferred to occupy his day-to-day thoughts with such matters as the tending of his sheep, the comfort of a nice dry pair of woolen socks, the avoidance of wolves, and, most of all, the brewing of a good cup of tea.

Remy was good at his job. He tended his sheep; he stayed well away from the woods. Everyone knew you didn’t mess with the woods. Stay away from their territory, and keep up the deal of old, and always be safe. He had never put much thought into this, either; it was much more important, in Remy’s eyes, to consider the fine taste that a brew steeped just right could carry.

He never expected his thoughtless respect for the woods to pay off.

The first time Remy saw a Wolfwalker, he was twenty-five years old and had started to wonder if he even believed they were real. But after that day, he never doubted again.

After all, how else could one explain the way the huge, snarling gray wolf, poised to deliver a killing bite to one of Remy’s finest sheep, had heard that commanding howl come from the woods, and put its tail between its legs and run back home in response?

Remy had watched the wolf run, standing frozen in fear and shock—and then he’d seen the Wolfwalker. A tall, tremendous wolf standing at the edge of the treeline, easily twice the size of the largest man, with dark gray fur and eyes gleaming yellow, a jagged scar running down one side of its face. Lean and powerful. Remy instinctively knew this was no ordinary wolf.

Remy had never considered himself a God-fearing man, but staring at the Wolfwalker and the way it commanded the pack of ordinary wolves surrounding it, he thought to himself that perhaps it wouldn’t hurt to pray a little harder.

“Thank you,” he croaked out when the Wolfwalker turned its eyes on him. “Thank you, m’lord—bless ye—I’ll never cross your territory, you may be sure of that—thank you for protecting my sheep—” He barely even knew what he was saying, babbling out his thoughts in more than a little healthy terror.

He wasn’t quite sure if the way the Wolfwalker bowed its head was a nod of acknowledgement, but the next moment, the Wolfwalker was leaping away, the pack of wolves trailing in its wake. And not a single sheep of Remy’s had been harmed.

Remy didn’t see the Wolfwalker often; over the next decade or so, he crossed paths with—him? Remy somehow got the feeling it was a him—perhaps half a dozen times. Every time he came away filled with awe and fear and a renewed sense that though the Wolfwalker was terrifying and fearsome, Remy would far rather live under his odd protection than whatever farce could be provided by all these guards the new Lord Protector kept bringing around.

Before he knew it, Remy was nearly thirty-seven and his appreciation of a good cup of tea had only strengthened over the years. He went to church and said his prayers with gusto, and every night he glanced out to the woods and gave a little nod of respect. For the Wolfwalker and, these last few years, the little cubs that followed in his wake.

As long as the people kept themselves to themselves and stayed out of the woods, Remy knew there was nothing to fear from the wolves.

***

“I don’t want you to go!” Logan clung to Janus’s wrist, digging his heels into the ground and trying to physically hold him back.

Janus lifted his powerful arm and picked the near-teen right up off the ground with almost no effort at all. “This is terribly grown-up of you,” he informed his eldest son dryly.

“There are too many humans,” Logan insisted, dangling from Janus’s arm, the little claws of his hands pricking at Janus’s skin. “You said only the forest was safe!”

Janus drew a long breath. “And that has been true for time immemorial. But things have changed. I like it no more than you do. But I need you to stay here and look after your brothers, you understand me, Logan? I will find us a new forest, a safer one, without any humans who want to cut and burn the trees or trap us with iron. And then I will come back and get you three, and we will go there.”

“But this forest is ours!” Logan protested. “No other forest will be ours like this one is.”

“Logan,” Janus said, and his voice bore an undercurrent of a warning snarl now, “I am doing what I must to protect my cubs.”

He didn’t know where to go, only that they couldn’t stay here. Not with the way the humans kept getting bolder and bolder and venturing deeper into the woods. Between Logan’s poor eyesight and the twins’ recklessness, and the way all three of them were only cubs and couldn’t defend themselves well yet, Janus was getting twitchier and twitchier by the day.

Logan stilled, an unhappy look on his face. “Can I come with you, at least? I can help! I’m very good at figuring things out! We could find a new forest together!”

“No,” Janus responded at once, his heart rate quickening at the idea. “I don’t—” He broke off and reconsidered what he was about to say. “I need you to look after the twins,” he said at last, striving to keep his voice casual.

Not casual enough. Logan stared at him, a look of dawning horror on his face. “You think you might not come back!” he accused.

Janus refrained from speaking the curse he wanted to let out. Logan had always been far too observant. “Of course I’ll come back,” he lied through his teeth, running a comforting hand through Logan’s tangled hair. “I only want to make sure the way is safe for my little ones first.”

Logan had spoken the truth a moment ago: there were too many humans these days. Janus wasn’t sure it was possible to safely venture past the borders of the forest anymore. He wasn’t sure there was anywhere left to take his little ones.

He wasn’t sure he would survive this search.

But it wasn’t like there were any other options left at this point. “Logan,” Janus said, kneeling down and putting his hands on the boy’s shoulders. He focused on making his voice honey-sweet and sincere. “I’m going to keep you safe, you understand? I would never abandon you. You are in charge of keeping your brothers safe until I return, but I will be back in a month or two.” Janus held the little boy’s brown eyes and tried not to think of humans with their traps and spears and guns and the way that once Janus left the forest he would have nowhere to hide.

“I will come back,” Janus told Logan, and he put his whole heart into his lie. “I promise.”

***

“I don’t want to move to some stupid village.” Virgil kicked his feet against the edge of the wagon petulantly, poking a piece of straw through the bars of his kestrel Thomas’s cage.

Patton sighed and reached back to ruffle his son’s hair, not taking his eyes from the winding dirt road. “I know, kiddo. We’re going to have a better life there. The Lord Protector offers a handsome salary to Hunters who can bring down wolves. They say the town is terrorized day and night, and they need to rid the forest of these pests so they can safely harvest the wood and expand the borders of the town.”

“But I hate when you go hunting!” Virgil crawled up to the driver’s seat beside Patton and clung to his arm. “I’m always so scared you’ll get eaten up! Or step in a trap! Or fall off a cliff! Or drown! Or—”

“Hey, there. Hey, now.” Patton wrapped an arm around Virgil’s shoulders. “Breathe, child. Breathe for me.” He murmured soothingly for a few minutes. “Now, come on, tell me: who taught you to draw a bow and arrow?”

“You,” Virgil mumbled.

“Good lad. And who taught you to track?”

“You did.”

“And what do you think? Am I a good Hunter? Haven’t I always kept you safe as can be?”

“Yes, but—”

“Virgil,” Patton interrupted, gentle but firm.

Virgil fidgeted for a moment. “It only has to go bad once, and you’d never come home again!”

“It’s a good thing I’d never do that, then,” Patton said, chucking Virgil under the chin and chuckling. “I mean, I have a sturdy little lad to look after, I must always make sure I hasten home to him at the end of the day.” He drew Virgil close and gave him a protective, reassuring hug. “Nothing’s going to get your Papa. I promise. I will always protect you, Virgil, you hear me? And today, the best way to protect you is to find ourselves a new home out here. We’ll make do, never you worry. I’m sure you’ll have lots of new friends in no time!”

--

Taglist (ask to be added/removed!): 

@theimprobabledreamersworld @private-snippers @fivehargreeves05 

[hopelesshawks]

Official Accounts Part 30- Your Own Words

Summary: (y/n) was perfectly happy remaining anonymous, even if her best friends were all pro heroes and she worked under THE Hawks. Handling the technical aspects of hero work from the background suited her just fine, thank you very much. That goes out the window when suddenly her twitter blows up thanks Denki and the famed no. 2 hero is asking her to run his own official twitter as a result

If you don’t want to see Official Accounts content blacklist #hopelessoa

Masterlist

He shouldn’t have stormed off. Hawks knows he shouldn’t have stormed off and when you walked past the living room to go to your bedroom he shouldn’t have pretended to be asleep already like a coward. But he didn’t know what else to do. He had based his entire career on Endeavor and the HPSC. He had long ago accepted the HPSC were not the bastion of morality he thought they were as a kid, but Endeavor? That was his hero. If what you said was true then the entire foundation he’d built his career on is rotten to the absolute core. The commission had to have known as well, which would make them complicit in the abuse of at least two children. Three, he supposed, if he counted himself.

He wants so badly to deny it all. It would be so easy to simply write you off as a liar but you were right. He knows you well enough now to know it wasn’t a lie. You’re not dumb or gullible either. If you believe Dabi it’s likely for good reason. He hates to admit it but you were right that it makes a lot of sense. It explains why the commission didn’t initially tell him what Endeavor’s “family issues” were when he first started working overtime to cover for the number one hero. It explains why they were so eager to make sure word didn’t get out that Dabi was Endeavor’s son that they restricted the task force to just him, Mirko, and Endeavor himself. Plus, it’s no secret Endeavor hated always being second best to All Might. It all makes sense. Yet, instead of coming to this conclusion with you outside, where you could’ve been a source of comfort, he had stormed out like a child. “You hurt her again,” his brain unhelpfully supplies. Sometimes he really hates his brain.

He sits up, the springs of the pull out couch creaking with the effort, and rubs his hands over his face. He shakily reaches for his phone and clicks over to his contacts, scrolling until he finds Endeavor’s name on the list.

It’s late...

Endeavor probably won’t answer...

He calls anyway.

As the phone rings he’s not sure if he’d rather it be answered or sent to voicemail. This is a monumentally terrible idea. He’s high and hurt and overall in the wrong mindset to hear the answer but he needs to know. Just as he’s about to give up Endeavor answers. “What is it Hawks?” the man asks gruffly.

For a moment Hawks can’t answer. He didn’t expect to get this far after all. “Hello? Hawks? Are you in danger or-“ “Is it true?” Hawks finally manages to ask, his voice almost lethally quiet.

“Is what true?”

“Is it true what you did to Shoto and Dabi?”

The silence after the question is deafening and Hawks thinks he can hear the sound of his own heart breaking.

“I’m trying to atone,” is all Endeavor says.

Hawks hangs up.

He drops his hand to his lap and stares at his phone as he feels tears start to slide down his face. He wants to sob. Can feel it climbing through his lungs and up his throat. He wants to sob so badly, in fact, that it takes him a minute to realize the sobbing he hears isn’t coming from him.

His eyes snap up to your doorway at the realization. Without thinking he’s up and racing into your bedroom where he finds you still asleep and yet sobbing out apologies to your mother and, most heartbreakingly of all, to him. “(Y/n)? (Y/n)! Come on little dove, wake up,” he encourages as he attempts to shake you awake. Still your nightmare clings to you so he shakes you a little harder. “C’mon little dove come back to me. Wake up, you have to wake up! I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” he pleads until finally, finally your eyes flutter open. “Keigo?” “Oh thank god,” Keigo sighs as he sits back to give you space. “You had a nightmare,” he explains. “Oh. I’m sorry I didn’t mean to wake you,” you apologize but he shakes his head. “You didn’t I was never asleep.” “Oh.”

For the first time the silence between the two of you is awkward. Hawks knows it’s all his fault so he gathers himself briefly, takes in a big deep breath, and then he does something he’s never done before. Keigo opens his arms wide for you and quietly says “I know you probably want nothing to do with me right now and if that’s the case I’ll drop it but we’re friends now (y/n). And in my friend group when one of us is upset we cuddle.”

How strange to hear your own words parroted back to you. It takes a moment to truly process what Keigo’s said, but just as he’s starting to doubt himself you launch yourself into his arms and clutch him tightly. He returns the embrace and carefully lays the two of you down. He’s about to use his feathers to cover the both of you once more with your blanket but for some reason he hears the voice of one of his HPSC caretakers growing up, ringing in his ear: “Keep it up Hawks! At this rate you’ll be just like Endeavor!”

Hawks pushes down nausea as he uses one hand to pull the blankets back around the two of you. “Do you want to talk about it?” he asks gently. You nod into his neck although you don’t start talking immediately. He doesn’t rush you though, just holds you close as you gather your thoughts. “I keep watching you and my mother die,” you rasp out, “and there’s never anything I can do to stop it.” “You feel helpless,” Keigo says. It’s not a question. He remembers the feeling well from his few memories before becoming a ward of the state. “You can fix that you know,” he offers quietly. “How?” “Get your provisional license.”

You scoff at the proposition but that doesn’t discourage Keigo. “I’m serious. I’m not saying become a pro hero. You don’t even have to get your full license. But with a provisional one you’d be allowed to use your quirk in emergencies. You wouldn’t be helpless if something happened,” he tells you gently. “I’ll think about it,” you reply, and are surprised to find you actually mean it. “You want to talk about what I said on the balcony?” you ask him. Keigo winces. “I shouldn’t have stormed off on you. I’m sorry,” he sighs. “I don’t care about that, I figured it’d be hard to hear. How’re you holding up?”

There’s a long pause as he considers what to say. “I’m fine,” he finally settles on. “Bullshit. You’ve been crying,” you accuse. “No I haven’t.” “Your eyes are red.” “We were smoking earlier.” “Your face is puffy.” He doesn’t have an argument for that one. “I called Endeavor,” he finally admits with a sigh. “And?” “And he didn’t deny it.” “I’m sorry.” “It’s not your fault.” “Still. I’m sorry.” “Aren’t I supposed to be comforting you here?” You shrug in response. “How about we just comfort each other?” you offer. “I’d like that,” Keigo sighs again, this time in relief.

Tonight had been a bit of a rollercoaster to say the least, but neither you nor Keigo had the heart to regret it. For the first time since you two had started growing closer, there are no walls left between the two of you. No heavy secrets or suspicions left. So the two of you hold each other close, long into the remaining night, until the sounds of each other breathing lulls you both to sleep.

Author’s Note: I started writing this part immediately after I finished Part 29. I just couldn’t leave Hawks and (y/n) that way for long. I’m just as relieved as y’all that finally they’ve cleared the air and the quiet emotional moments they have together are honestly my favorites.

Taglist [open]: @cathy8taffy @katzurras @grumpyfroggies @captaincyberqueen @itskindofafairything @420-uwu @someweirdshitman @oliviasslut @the-adzukibean @a-fucking-sero-kinnie @ladyzayismultifandom

[salty-fang]

Flowers

@daminette-december2019-2020

Marinette loved flowers. Everyone dear to her knew that. Obviously, she couldn’t always get flowers but if you needed a gift for her, flowers were the clear option.

Damian knew this, so every year, he’d buy her flowers and a gift on top. It’d always be a practical one like a roll of fabric or a jacket and mittens because of how easily she got sick. Her response always made his day, whether she’d try and return it to him, which he would never allow. Or, she would turn into a tomato on the spot. It was assuring yet amusing to say the least when he would check their commemorative photos and she would always have an exhausted yet flustered expression. No matter how much she whined, those were his favourite photos.

Damian had always been creative with the flowers he got. They had lovely scents, complemented her outfits or their colour signified something. Usually, he had gotten roses, Marinette’s favourite by far, that were yellow with petals that were tinged red. They always meant ‘we’re friends but I think I’m falling in love with you.’ That translated in Damian speak was, ‘you’re a reliable acquaintance but now you’re more tolerable’. If Marinette ever noticed his love, she didn’t comment. However, she was oblivious. Much like he was to his own feelings.

Damian knew when love was unrequited. At least, he thought he did. Marinette’s infatuation with Adrien had never been healthy yet she never realised. Even when it broke her heart to see Adrien fawn over other people of the human species, she’d still chase after him. Literally. And it was always up to him to pick up the pieces. Damian did it, knowing it would scar his heart deeper than each wound ran and yet, he was willing to endure the pain if it meant she was happy and smiling.

That had fuelled his competitive nature with Adrien. You see, Damian and Adrien were bitter rivals. They didn’t like each other; hell, Damian had destroyed him in an exhibition match when he first arrived. The day was still clear in his mind. Marinette had sided with Adrien and whilst he couldn’t pretend that that didn’t hurt, he fought with such fervour, such ferocity, that he forgot the pain. Momentarily. For days, he ignored Marinette. He let his phone go to voicemail, didn’t read her texts, brushed past her at school. He couldn’t speak to her. He couldn’t look at her and he knew he was being selfish but he needed some time.

It didn’t help his heart when he saw her face- tears in her eyes and a face like a lost puppy.

Although, he knew Adrien would deal with it. And deal with it he did. It shouldn’t have hurt to see Marinette in his arms, her eyes tinged red and her cheeks rouge. It really shouldn’t have. After all, everyone knew that Marinette was in love with Adrien. So, he really should have expected when they had their first kiss.

Or when they went on their first date.

Or when Marinette forgot about him. Forgot was a harsh verb but in the last two months, he’d only seen her twice. She had been too preoccupied with Adrien to notice her relationship with him was falling apart. The late 3am conversations stopped abruptly. There were no more flowers or elaborate gifts. He stuck to the bare minimum because he wanted -no- he needed to be selfish.

He needed time away from them. From her. It wasn’t as if he didn’t feel happy for her, that was far from what had happened but... was it selfish to love knowing it would never be returned? It was futile pondering over the ‘what ifs' but it was nice to let his mind wander. Longing never eased his predicament but it was a temporary relief.

One where he didn’t have to lock eyes with them and pretend that his shoes were more interesting. One where he wouldn’t have to walk in the opposite direction or take a longer route to avoid them. Or where he didn’t see the piteous glances and snide glares directed at him.

He wanted to feel content. Joyous that Marinette found someone that made her happy.

Which was why he needed to go back. Back to where everything made sense. Back to Gotham. He wasn’t important here anyway. Marinette wouldn’t miss him.

That was the first lie he told himself.

Hands stuffed in pockets and head low, he walked to school, knowing it would be the last time he would see it. He had been hoping to avoid anyone he knew but alas, the goddess of luck was against him. He could see Marinette sprinting towards him and as tempted as he was to run away, it just wasn’t worth the effort. Especially not today. So instead, he pulled himself farther into his hoodie, obscuring his face. His attempt to blend into the background had been foiled by the meddling girl that was Marinette. And that annoyed him.

This was the second lie he told himself.

Marinette had stuck to him like glue. The entire day, she was at his side. And the reason was bluntly obvious as to why that was. Adrien had been busy. Marinette wouldn’t tell anyone where he’d gone but it was pretty clear that he wasn’t at school. Damian was happy to have Marinette back but he would have preferred it under different circumstances. He didn’t want to act as an Adrien 2.0. He wanted Marinette to hang out with him because she wanted to see him. Not because her boyfriend wasn’t in.

Her actions had soured his mood and yet his heart ached for her. Today had probably meant nothing to her but it meant the world to him. It was an amazing way to go back home, carrying sweet memories of your best friend with you. The flight had been booked for tomorrow in the afternoon, giving him loads of time to pour his feelings into a letter for her. He needed the closure from his first love. Sure, he’d dated around, trying to find anything strong enough to drown his feelings. But they were never enough. Nothing ever was when she was around.

Which is why he had ordered a large bouquet of yellow roses. Yellow roses tinged red at the tips of the petals. If he was going to write her a letter, he needed to go back. Back to when he first fell. Fell completely in love.

The letter had come out better than he had expected. Short and precise yet he was oddly satisfied with how it turned out. The hardest part was how to get everything to Marinette without her responding. He already knew what her response would be. And he didn’t want to hear it. He didn’t want his heart to shatter. Not when it was already so broken. He knew that the best time to give it to her would be when she was asleep or working in the bakery which is why he went in the afternoon.

He loaded his luggage into a taxi-something so common that he would never have done before. Taking several deep breaths, he waited, watching his hand shake as he yanked open the door.

“Hey, Mrs Cheng.”

“Damian, what a lovely surprise. You must be here for Marinette?” A solemn nod was all the answer she needed. “Make your way upstairs. And call me Sabine.”

“Will do next time, Mrs Cheng.” He ran up the stairs, a small grin on his face as he knocked on her trapdoor. Giving it a few seconds, he knocked again before entering.

“I’ll just go.” He muttered, leaving the letter and bouquet on the stairwell. He turned on his heel, eyes shining as he tried desperately to compose himself. That was what Marinette had meant when she said that Adrien was “busy". They were too busy making out to notice his presence. Once again. He should have been used to it.

So, why did he feel like shit when he heard Marinette call after him? Or when he hopped into the taxi, knowing that she couldn’t catch up to him? Why did he feel like he was wrong? Like he was too clingy? He pushed her away. He grew too dependent on her being in his life. She could do whatever she wanted. She didn’t belong to him or anyone for that matter. If she was happy with Adrien, so be it.

It was his fault for being too slow.

Hisfaulthisfaulthisfaulthisfault.

The taxi was booked for the next two hours which gave him enough time to come to terms with everything. He’d finally see his family; he’d get to hold Titus and play with Alfred and feed Batcow. He’d be back on patrol for his vigilante duties and he would do a kick ass job at it. And there would be no more feelings. No more overwhelming emotions that had to be kept bottled up. No more feeling alone surrounded by people who didn’t understand him. But most of all, no more Marinette. And it hurt to think like that.

Marinette was relentless. That much he knew. So, he was expecting her to try and find him. Which is why he booked the flight at the most obscure airport. He locked eyes with her, seeing her dart towards him, letter in hand. She had still found him and as he watched her run, he felt his chest constrict. And not in the good way. Functioning purely on adrenaline, he ran, pushing her out of the way of the approaching car. He heard the desperate squeal of the tyres. The sound of the sirens.

Yet, the thing that was clearest to him was the guttural scream that ripped through Marinette’s throat.

And in that moment, he wanted to hold her hand, stroke her head, whisper comforting words to her. Anything that would help ease her sorrow. But all he could offer her was his shaking hand as he rubbed his finger against her knuckles.

“I want,” he coughed, spitting out the thick substance onto the ground. “I want you to forget about me. I’ll only cause you pain.”

That was his third and final lie before he was wheeled off into the back of an ambulance.

It took four hours for him to be pronounced dead.

It took a month for his funeral to happen.

It took a year for Marinette to stop blaming herself for his death.

It took her 70 years to forget about him.

Everyone dear to Marinette knew she hated flowers. The only ones she loved where the ones that Damian had given to her. And with her they remained, still upright as if someone had been trying to tell her that they were there.

There with her until she too died.

[tirednerd2012]

How about this idea: Ian is walking home from school one day and he gets kidnapped by one of barley's rivals wanting to take revenge on him or something and barley goes on a quest to save his little brother.

Bonus scene: while barley is struggling with the rivals, Ian manages to reach his staff and casts a spell at them and it saves barley, but Ian blacks out and he later wakes up in the hospital with barley and his mom beside him and Barley starts comforting him and have a brotherly moment.

Get ready for some angst with this one! Here you go! This will be the last one for the night. More to come tomorrow!

Barley was a lot of things. His mother and brother would call him loyal, annoying, exciting and overly protective. His friends would call him chill and a great dungeons master. His enemies, however, would call him a jackass or something of the sort. Just depends on the perspective.

The person who probably hated him most was his ex, Drew. He managed to avoid him. While Barley knew damn well he would never forget everything that man put him through, but he tried to move past it.

Especially after he crashed into the van, knocking Ian and Barley out and kidnapping them. He was going to kill Barley, but Ian insisted on taking his place. There was no changing Drew’s mind. He knew how much Ian meant to Barley and he knew that Barley would want nothing more than to protect Ian from him.

Barley still couldn’t sleep at night without hearing Ian’s screams and Drew’s laugh. He stabbed him, but apparently he survived. The wound wasn’t fatal and he was able to get to the hospital in time. Meaning someone was helping him, but Barley had no idea who.

Ian Lightfoot was walking home from school. Barley was working on his online classes and it was a nice day, so he decided against the bus. He texted his brother that he was on his way home and continued to make his way. He was about halfway there, on an older street that not many people lived in, when a car came speeding by.

Drew stepped out of the car. With a gun. Ian reached for his staff, but remembered he didn’t have it. He never took it to school.

“Well, well, if it isn’t little Ian. It’s been awhile, man,” he said. Ian went to run, but it seemed that Drew was reading his mind. “I wouldn’t do that. No one really lives in this neighborhood. I can shoot you.”

“Why can’t you just leave us alone?” Ian snapped. Drew walked over to him and yanked his bag and jacket off, revealing the scars from Ian’s last encounter with him.

“I’ll admit, that was pretty brave, what you did for your brother back there,” he said. Ian froze as Drew smiled at him. He hated this guy. He wanted him dead. Ian cursed his name more times than he could remember for what he did to Barley. He remembered checking in on them after Barley didn’t come home to see him choking the life out of his best friend.

“What do you want?” Ian asked, but his throat felt tight. Drew paused, looked at him with cold eyes before quickly grabbing a fistful of his hair and then slamming his head hard against the car. He collapsed and Ian felt the gravel on his cheek and his head spin. He couldn’t process a single thought, except his wrists being tied behind his back, a gag in his mouth and then his ankles tied.

Drew lifted him up without much effort and tossed him in the trunk of his card like he was nothing.

Barley looked at the clock. Ian texted him three hours ago saying he was on his way home, now he wasn’t answering his phone at all. He drove around everywhere looking, but there was no sign of him.

Worry and anger were building up in the oldest Lightfoot brother when Ian’s picture popped open on his phone. He grabbed it and answered within the first ring.

“Ian, where are you?”

“Sorry, babe, Ian can’t really come to the phone right now,” Barley fell over and landed on the chair when he heard that voice. His heart skipped a beat and he grabbed at his chest.

“Drew.”

“Who else?”

“Where’s Ian?” he demanded. Don’t be afraid. Don’t let him see you afraid. The video turned on and Barley saw Ian in a large dragon cage with a dead bolt lock on it. He tried to look at the background for clues, but couldn’t find any. He had no idea where Ian was. He felt his hands shake and he had trouble keeping the phone steady.

“Alive, but that’s about all I can give him,” Drew responded, indifferently. The camera focuses on Ian, desperately trying to get out of the cage. His forehead was bleeding and several of his scars had been reopened. “Say hi to Barley, Ian.”

“Barley, I’m okay. Whatever he wants, don’t give him!” Ian said, but Drew laughed and kicked the cage, causing Ian to fall in it. He grabbed a key, unlocked it and then dragged Ian out of the cage. Barley could tell from the position of the phone that Drew climbed on top of Ian.

“Hey, babe, does this look familiar?” he asked as he brought his hands around Ian’s neck. He began choking him.

“Stop! Stop. Drew you got me, where are you? I give up! You win!” Barley cried. He didn’t stop. He choked Ian out until his brother fell unconscious. Then he checked.

“He’s still breathing,” Drew informed him. “You have about, I dunno, it took us 3 hours to get here, you have 4 to get him before I kill him.”

“He has nothing to do with this, Drew. Please, if you’re going to kill anyone, kill me,” Barley offered. This was his mess, not Ian’s. His brother got involved because he loved him and wanted to protect Barley from this bastard.

“I could, but we both know this is much more painful to you. If you fail, his blood, your little brother’s blood, will be on your hands, Barley. If you get anyone else involved, I’ll kill him on the spot. I have nothing to lose, but you sure as hell do.”

With that, the phone call ended. Barley stood there for a second, stunned. Three hours to get wherever they were. That meant he had an hour to figure out exactly where that was, or he would be too late. There would be no room for error.

“I’m coming, Ian, I promise. Just hang in there.”

Barley, not proud of this part of the rescue mission, first threw up. He darted to the bathroom and felt all the stress turn to nausea. Then he panicked. One wrong move and Ian could be killed. His brother's life was in his hands.

He thought about Ian, alone, knocked out somewhere with someone who wanted to hurt him, and Barley is at least 3 hours away from him. He couldn't protect Ian and it hurt every fiber in his being.

Wait. Ian's laptop. He had it connected to his phone. Maybe he could find the phone's location on it. He ran up the stairs and went to Ian's desk. He looked up at the picture Ian took of the two of them at the park on day, hanging up on his wall. Then he shook his head. Focus, Barley.

He opened the computer, no password, and looked up the Find My Phone App. Sure enough, he found a location. Three hours away, north. He would have to pass the Manticore's Tavern (Maybe Corey would blow some shit up after he got Ian out?)

No, Drew said not to get anyone else involved. He had to listen, otherwise Ian would pay for his mistakes more.

He looked over and saw Ian's staff. It would be nice for Ian to have something to protect himself with. He grabbed it and his keys, left a note for his mom saying he'd be home soon, and then left. His phone buzzed in his pocket and he opened up a message.

Drew sent him a picture of Ian's back now covered in fresh cuts. Barley had to wipe his tears away to prevent from going off the road. He was going to kill Drew. Nothing would stop him this time. He would make sure the bastard was dead.

Was Ian awake? He must be scared out of his mind. He was just walking home from school and suddenly snatched away with the underline promise of death?

Barley drove as fast as he could. He gave it all he had in his van. According to Maps, Ian was in the middle of the woods. Barley could park the van a little bit away and take the rest on foot. That would give him the advantage of surprise. The only thing that truly mattered was getting Ian out of there as fast as possible.

He would need a hospital. If Barley parked far away, he would have to carry him, but that shouldn't be too hard. Ian was light and Barley had been able to carry him since the day he was born.

Barley had memories of Ian since the day he had been born. Who else could he say that about?

No, no, keep it together, Barley told himself. He made the three hour drive in two hours and thirty minutes. He pulled into the woods, grabbed his sword and Ian's staff and took off. He found a cabin and he crept close to it, listening through the backdoor.

"Barley's going to make you sorry!" he heard Ian's voice. While it was clearly pained, he managed to sound strong and determined. Barley tried to pinpoint the location.

"Your brother isn't here to save you, Ian. You're going to die for his mistakes."

"This isn't his fault! It's yours. My brother is the most amazing guy and you're the one who doesn't deserve him. I'm glad you two broke up. He is worth more than you ever could be."

Even when facing certain death, Ian defended his brother.

"You little shit."

Barley tried the backdoor and opened it quietly. He peaked in and saw in the living room, Ian was in the cage glaring at Drew. His back was pouring out with blood and his eyes showed how much pain he was in. He tried to stand strong, but his legs shook and he had to hold on to the bars to keep from collapsing. Drew was too busy enjoying Ian's suffering to see Barley coming out from behind.

He grabbed the guy and threw him away from Ian. He laid the staff down by the cage and went to look for the key when he felt something slice his back.

"Barley!" Ian cried out. Barley spun around and ducked just in time to avoid Drew's aim to his head. The two began fighting. Barley was terrified, yes, but his adrenaline and anger took over.

No one hurt his brother and got away with it.

Ian watched with horror as Barley and Drew fought. Drew was planning for this. He knew Barley would find them within no time. He knew everything to do to piss Barley off enough to get his mind so blinded by anger, Drew could kill him.

Drew managed to kick Barley in the stomach and his sword fell out of his hand. Ian saw his staff and reached for it. He didn't have much energy, and honestly, he had never felt so exhausted before in his life, let alone tried to use magic when it was like this. He didn't know what would happen.

But as he got the staff in his hands, Drew went in for the kill. Barley glanced over just in time to watch Ian's eyes fill with horror and his brother screamed bloody murder.

"No!" Ian remembered an explosion throwing him back, then nothing.

He woke up in a hospital. Most of his body was covered in bandages and he heard soft crying beside him. His mom was there, sobbing, her hands covering her face.

"Mom?" he asked. His throat burned and tightened and for a moment he wondered if she even heard him, but she looked up at him and cried with relief.

"Ian! Oh my God, my baby," she said and hugged him. It hurt, but he would never tell her that.

"What happened?"

His mom recounted the whole story of his kidnapping, Barley rescuing him, only for Drew to try and kill him, but Ian used magic that Barley had never seen before, It took everything he had, but he caused a throwback spell that was powerful enough to break the cage and get Drew away from Barley.

That's when he lost consciousness. Barley stopped the bleeding for all of his wounds before getting his brother to the hospital. He called his mom crying.

"Where is he?" Ian asked. His mom smiled sadly.

"He went outside to get some air. You've been out for hours now and it's- it's been a scary time. You had us so worried," she said, her voice thick with new tears. Ian managed to squeeze her hand just as Barley walked back in. Their eyes locked immediately.

"Ian," he said and ran over to him and hugged him tightly. Ian managed through the pain and found comfort leaning on his brother's shoulder.

"Barley, you're okay," he said, trying not to cry himself. Their mom stood up.

"I'm going to give you boys some time to talk. I need to check in with the doctors."

With that, it was just them. Barley sat down beside Ian and put his hand on top of the one without the IV. He didn't look Ian in the eyes anymore.

"Thank God you're okay," he said. "I'm so sorry, Ian. I didn't think Drew would go after you like that, but I promise I took care of it."

"What did you do?" Ian asked, but then the moment he asked it, he realized. Barley killed him.

"I made sure I took care of it this time," he answered. Then he shook his head. "But that doesn't matter. What matters is the fact you're here, you're going to be okay and you're safe."

Now that he was out of harm's way, Ian allowed himself to go through everything that happened. He was kidnapped and tortured. He was at the mercy of someone who hated his brother more than anything else in the world and the fact he was alive was a miracle.

But Barley saved him. He faced the man Ian knew he was secretly afraid of to save him. And he killed him. Barley, his sweet, lovable, teddy bear of a big brother, ended his life. Of course, he probably would have done the same thing in his position.

"I missed you," Ian said.

"I missed you, too. I'm glad you're okay," Barley said. Ian allowed his head to fall on to Barley's shoulder and in return, felt his brother's arms wrap around him carefully this time. They both cried. "I love you so much, Ian."

"I love you, too, Barley. I knew you were coming, even if I didn't want you to."

"Well, I can't let someone take you from us, now can I?" Barley responded, with a humorless chuckle. For the first time since this happened, Ian truly felt safe. Barley was here. Everything was going to be fine. "I'll never let anyone take you from me like that. Never."

[syms-things-5]

CLEAR THE AREA - Chapter Twenty

Previous Chapter here

Warnings: language and the usual angst

Summary: I made it! My first story at an end. Thanks for stopping by and sticking by me over the last few months. I'm strangely quite proud of myself for sticking with this even when I had zero idea of how things were going to go. I have plans for a sequel of sorts and I hope you come back for that (when I get my ass in gear to write it!).

Tags: Thanks to @kelbabyblue @jennmurawski13

Chapter Twenty

The hot shower was a welcome relief when she finally stepped inside. It had been a hell of a long day. Far longer than she could recall and she had battled plenty. 

 Sarah had been back at work for a week or so and trying her hardest to deflect questions. Audrey had, she realised, kind of figured most things out without having to awkwardly impose the third degree on her pal. She knew everyone in the family knew and while at first she was happy and possibly even a little excited by that knowledge, her enthusiasm soon turned to concern when Sarah informed her that Shanna had been ignoring all of her messages and calls ever since. None of Audrey’s queries beyond that were met with much more than a non-committal shrug. How could Sarah be expected to answer any of Audrey’s questions when she didn’t have any of the answers to her own? 

 “She’ll come around. She has to.” Audrey said, in her soothing tone that always seemed to work no matter what news she was giving. “She won’t want to lose you. You’ve been friends for years.” 

 A few people had said variations of the same thing to her lately. That Shanna will come around, that she was just shocked but she’ll eventually understand, and that things will get better. Carly said Shanna had a wicked stubborn streak in her that even she struggled with at times but she also knew she loved Sarah very, very much. It was just a tough time but she’ll learn to understand. It would absolutely be OK, she would bet money on it Sarah wasn’t so sure. 

She already knew Shanna was as stubborn as they come - she’d lived with her long enough - so when exactly was she expected to “learn how to understand”? More importantly, why did she even have to? They had been best friends for years but Sarah had betrayed her trust and flat-out lied to her face. Multiple times. “White lies” Scott called them, shrugging them off as though they were a big pile of nothing and just something people do when they need to get out of awkward situations. Sarah wasn’t sure sleeping with her best friend’s brother counted as an “awkward situation” or something that could be casually brushed aside with a sweep of the hand but nevertheless, she appreciated his efforts. 

 These were the conversations that kept circling around her mind as she stood under the shower head. Normally, she wasn’t one for wasting water but she allowed herself to enjoy it a little more this time. The soapy lather and fragrances of lavender and sandalwood surrounded her senses and was very soothing to her brain. 

She barely noticed the fog steaming up the bathroom and focussed on the feel of the hot water cascading over her tired, worn-out body instead. If she died right here, right now, they could say she was probably the most relaxed she had been in months. 

 “Shall we pick you up from the airport? It’s no trouble.” Jocelyn fussed on the end of the line. There was a loud scraping sound somewhere in the near-background so Sarah figured she was back on the DIY again. That, or she had given the pottery classes another go. Recollections of Shanna laughing herself silly at Jocelyn “doing pot” flooded back into her memory all of a sudden and only served to leave her feeling sad in the pit of her stomach. 

“No, Mom, it’s fine. It’ll be late. I’ll just get a cab.” Sarah calmly affirmed, one hand holding the phone to her ear and the other shoving yet more clothes into her suitcase. She’d given up on folding like an adult. “The flight could be delayed so I don’t want you hanging around the airport any longer than necessary.” 

 “But you’ll have bags, Sarah. Heavy bags and that’s no good. You don’t want to give yourself an injury.” 

 “Mom, I have one suitcase. Don’t be so over-dramatic.” She eye-rolled. 

 That was the…fourth lie? Perhaps the fifth since this conversation had started? Who knew. Sarah glanced down at the suitcase on her bed currently lying next to a smaller, overnight suitcase. There was also a backpack and a laptop bag sitting ready by her bedroom door. It was just easier this way. If she had to explain her real intentions, she would never finish packing and her parents would be on the red-eye to Boston. 

 “OK, well, keep us posted when you leave and when you land and I suppose we can go from there.” Jocelyn sighed. Whatever she had been doing had now stopped and Sarah could imagine the look of concern on her face. She was momentarily consoled by the fact that her Dad would at least see things from her point of view and hopefully Jocelyn would learn to just drop it. 

 Sarah hung up the phone and went back into the bathroom to finish drying her hair currently wrapped up in a towel. Shanna had shown her a trick with a towel and an old cotton t-shirt some years earlier after she had eventually agreed to stop cutting her hair. “It’s so beautiful and curly but, like, it’s a nice curl? A gentle curl. Honestly, girls would pay so much money every day to have waves like yours.” enthused Shanna at the time. It was a sweet thing to say. Jocelyn had said much the same thing as she was growing up but Sarah always preferred shorter cuts because she couldn’t be bothered to spend time styling it every day. And it would always take time. Too much time. 

 Her longer hair felt so lifeless and dull by comparison, she thought, except when Audrey would blow-dry it during one of their all-too-rare girls’ afternoons and rub this coconut concoction into her roots so it smelled delicious for days afterwards. Or when Chris would gently comb his fingers through it when he thought she was asleep. She didn’t mind it so much then. 

 She finished the last brush-through and switched off the dryer, wrapping the cord around the handle ready for it to be packed. A dab of foundation under her eyes and she looked reasonably well-rested now; well enough so as not to draw attention to any stresses or worries. Jocelyn always had a knack for sussing them out and it was frustrating and unwelcome at the best of times. That she was usually right was beside the point. 

 She mentally ticked off a list of items she made a point of packing; some comfy sweatpants, a couple of books, her particular brand of coffee because her folks now apparently hated the stuff. She located her passport and boarding pass for the tenth time, making sure they were safely zipped in the side pocket of her backpack. She was pretty much done. If it wasn’t for the looming feeling of regret, she would call a cab to take her to the station right that minute. 

 Looking down at her phone, she decided to call Shanna one last time. It rang a few times before a groggy voice appeared on the end of the line. 

 “Hey….” Shanna offered, cold but not totally unhappy to hear her, Sarah thought. The last few times she had tried calling Shanna, it would ring for a lot longer. The shortness here was a small step in the right direction. 

 “Hey, how are you feeling?” Sarah asked with some trepidation, trying not to sound overly familiar and casual. She was trying to follow Shanna’s lead with regards to friendly small talk. 

 “Better. Mom’s been making soup every day. Sick and tired of the stuff to be honest.” Shanna had come down with a small cold and had used it as an opportunity to stay in the relative ease and comfort of her mother’s house. Sarah would much rather have seen her in person before she left but speaking on the phone without one of them, or both of them, ending up in tears was also good. 

 “Well, at least you’re in the best place. Your Mom always makes me feel better when I’m unwell.” Sarah smiled down the line. 

 “I’m not unwell, Sarah.” she said, defensively. “It’s just a cold. I’m just tired.” 

 Sarah feared she’d overstepped the mark. “OK, well, still, it’s good that you’re there. ‘Cos…Lisa would just worry otherwise. Probably.” She was babbling now and she knew it but she couldn’t think of anything to say. Shanna had put up something of a wall between them now and while she was talking to her and not completing freezing her out, it felt different and not altogether pleasant.

 “Yeh, that’s true.” Shanna responded after a brief pause. “But you’re a nurse so you would think I would be better in my own home.” 

 “Nah, I’d just be bringing back all kinds of infectious things.” Sarah joked and was relieved to hear a laugh on the end of the line, a laugh that very quickly turned into a harsh cough. But it had definitely started out as a laugh so she’d take that as a win, too. 

 “So, have you been really busy?” Shanna asked after she managed to clear her throat. 

 “Same old. We have a new intern and she’s pretty eager to get stuck in which is great. Audrey is impressed so that should tell you how amazing she is.” Sarah offered. It had in fact been busier than most days but now wasn’t the time to relay the usual information she wouldn’t normally think twice about offering to Shanna when she had asked. 

 “That’s cool.” Shanna coughed again and cleared her throat. “Have you been working all the time or, um, have you had much of a break?” 

 “Pretty much all the time, yeh. I did those double shifts I was meant to do last month so I’ve cleared my flexi-time now which is good. I’m back on track.”

 “That’s cool.” Shanna said. 

 “Yeh and I built up some more which is good, too. It’ll come in handy at Christmas perhaps.” Sarah was trying to keep the conversation going as best as she could. 

 “Cool. Do you just come home and crash, then?” 

 “Most of the time, yeh.” 

 “You don’t go out anywhere or anything?” 

 “Um,” Sarah had a vague idea of what she was getting at. “I don’t really have time to do anything else. I wanted to get my hours back up to a healthy point. You know what O’Brien can be like.” 

 There was silence on the end of the line. Sarah could hear her shuffle about in what she assumed was her bed. Shanna coughed again, gentler this time, and sighed as she tried to think of what to come back with. She knew she was probably being a little obvious now. 

 “Well,” Shanna started. “I hope you’re getting through it all OK. Y’know, the work and stuff. I hope you’re doing alright.” 

 “Thanks. Yeh I’m…I’m alright.” Sarah replied, touched by the slight concern she could hear her speak. “I hope you feel better soon, too. It’s not fun having a cold particularly at this time of the year.” 

 “I’m sure Mom has been crushing aspirin and vitamins into my food so I’ll be Wonder Woman before you know it.” 

 Sarah laughed. “Absolutely you will. I’ll, er, let you get back to resting. Are you up to much?” 

 “No, I’m just watching Netflix.” 

 “Ah right. That’s cool. Lots of new murder shows from what Audrey tells me.” Sarah nodded. She knew Shanna wasn’t about to launch into a description of what programme she had been binging the last few days so they both vocalised their goodbyes and hung up. It was the first call that had ended on a mutual note and not Shanna making a lame excuse to cut off Sarah’s equally lame attempts at small talk. Again, Sarah took it as a positive. 

 Sarah looked down at her phone, a photo of them both in their graduation gowns on her home screen. She hadn’t changed it since she’d gotten the upgrade a year earlier and she had no intention of doing so now. It was a nice day, a nice memory. The hangover she suffered for days afterwards was more than worth it. 

 She was unsure why Shanna had felt the need to ask her what she’d been up to. She had seemed very specific, more so than about anything else they talked about lately. Naturally, Shanna knew Sarah well enough now to know she relied on work whenever she was dealing with something upsetting and difficult so surely it would have been obvious that she had had zero contact with Chris. He probably would have said as much to her in person. Or he would have talked with Scott or Lisa, and Shanna would have eventually found out by default. 

 The more she thought about it, the more anxious she felt. Knowing how she and Chris had left things, it was almost entirely likely that he hadn’t spoken to Shanna too much. Perhaps he had holed himself up in his apartment like he did following a tiring shoot, trying to sleep and rest and eat whatever carbs he could get his hands on. Maybe the opposite and he’d thrown himself into some training again. Maybe he’d gone back to Los Angeles for work, that he’d finally given in to Matt’s nudges and agreed to accept one of the many lucrative endorsement deals brands would throw his way every so often. Maybe he had been entertaining himself with the boys. Or with someone else. Someone… 

 No. This had been Sarah’s fault. There was no point trying to find justification for his absence. She had created a rift between a brother and sister where one should not have existed. He should have talked to Shanna but from Shanna’s probing and what little information she could gleam from Scott, evidently that didn’t appear to have taken place. She briefly considered googling his name to see if any news outlets had a scoop before deciding against it. She almost made it to her kitchen before giving in and bringing up a search on her phone. No. Nothing. He’d gone radio-silent as per usual. As she suspected. Normally, it was quite impressive of him to go under the radar with such precision but now it was just inconsiderate. How dare he not make his whereabouts publicly known so Sarah could come up with a half-convenient lie as to why he and Shanna hadn’t seen each other. A comforting lie that could make herself feel better about the mess. 

 It would have made her feel so much better to know they were getting along again. Selfishly, it would have made it easier for her to leave knowing that they were finding their own way of getting back on track with one another. Sarah could imagine Lisa fretting to Scott and Carly at night, wondering how she could help her two most stubborn children become pals again. Sarah would rather she had been forgotten completely in favour of them piecing their relationship back together, for everyone’s sake. If there was one thing Sarah hated more than drama, it was knowing she was the root cause of the drama. Separating herself from the family now would be preferable than being made increasingly aware of the glaring hole setting up home in their house. A meteoric hole that she had been responsible for. A hole inside a family unit that had gotten through a lot in their forty-plus years together. A wonderful, loving, generous family that had taken Sarah in without question and had accepted her as one of their own just because Shanna had once said she was “pretty cool”. 

 No, Shanna did not deserve to be frozen out by her brother. Chris didn’t deserve to feel like he couldn’t speak to his baby sister. 

 * 

 Another day passed and Sarah didn’t feel much better. She did, however, feel momentarily relieved by Audrey’s personal admission that she had googled Chris a couple of times as well. Another sip of steaming hot coffee and she further admitted to having set him up on her Google Alerts “just in case”. 

 “For safety. I’m just looking out for you.” Audrey declared before smirking at her across the table. “I didn’t want you waking up one morning to photos of him draped over some starlet or whoever. And don’t think for one second that I will not come for anyone who dares to speak ill of you online. You are beautiful and kind and funny and sweet and absolutely good enough for him. I swear to God and he can quote me on this. Think of me as your own personal hype-woman.” 

 “Wow. Thank you. That’s a lot to take in but it’s very kind.” Sarah laughed nervously. “I think.” 

 “All I ask in return is dibs on designer dresses for the wedding.” Audrey winked at her as she left the staffroom. She didn’t catch neither the eye roll nor the middle finger Sarah proffered in return. 

 A few moments of quiet passed and Sarah pulled up Scott’s number on her phone. 

Sarah 10.45am: Is Shanna feeling any better? 

Scott 10.52am: So so. She’s terrible at being an ill person. I don’t know how you manage it xx 

 Sarah texted a laughing emoji back in response followed by a couple of red hearts. She’d give anything to “manage” an ill Shanna right now. 

 Scott 11.04am: But how are you??? We miss you Xx 

 Sarah could feel the tears forming at the back of her eyes. It had been a couple of days since she had last cried but as her departure flight loomed ever closer she was feeling it more and more. 

 Scott 11.08am: Seriously……… 

 Scott 11.09am: Please come see us soon. Mom is super worried about you and threatening to bring you her tiramisu 

 Scott 11.11am: don’t worry, I stopped her xx 

 She bit the inside of her lip a little too hard. 

 Scott 11.13am: but you owe me one. I had to eat half that thing xx 

 Chris loved tiramisu, she remembered. Maybe he was responsible for eating the other half. 

 It was no good. She was going to have to call him soon. Against the promise she’d made to herself about not thinking about him, it only served to keep her worrying about him more and more. 

 Sarah 11.20am: I know, I’m sorry. Tell her I’ll call her soon, I pormise xx 

 Sarah 11.21am: *promise 

 Scott 11.24am: not sure that’ll do much honeybun. You know what she’s like. Love you xx 

 She texted him a kiss emoji and felt relieved that he didn’t respond again. She pulled up Chris’ number and contemplated sending him a message. How would she even start? A simple “hey” was not going to cut it at this point, nor was a “how are you?”. Time was running out and as Ryan peered his head round the door to check on her, she shoved her phone back in her locker and left to finish off her day. 

 Sarah 15.58pm: Are you still alive? 

 She stayed staring at her phone for what felt like an eternity. Just before she resigned in disgust at her pitiful attempt at casual humour, she saw the tell-tale three dots appear at the bottom of her screen. They flickered for some time before stopping then starting again. She wasn’t sure if it was because he was composing some irate response at her pathetic joke or if he was deleting a message in favour of ignoring her altogether. She wasn’t sure which option she would prefer had she had the choice. 

 No response came through. She pulled a cup from the cupboard and set about making a small pot of coffee for herself. She still had a little time yet before she was due to leave for the airport and she had made plans to clean the place up a little before Shanna returned home, presumably a day or so later when she figured Sarah was safely out of the picture. 

 She picked up some daffodils and daisies on the way home from the hospital and separated the bunches between the living room, the kitchen and the hallway. She had visited two different grocery stores to find Shanna’s favourite flavour of ice cream and the fridge was stocked with some healthy veggies and yoghurt so she could make her breakfast smoothies in the morning. She also set about steam-mopping the hard floors so the clean, floral smell could spread through the entire apartment. It was a nice welcome home, she thought. She would appreciate it if someone had done the same for her. 

 Her phone started vibrating in the back pocket of her jeans as she folded the bedding that was fresh out of the dryer. She wasn’t altogether able to name the feeling she experienced at seeing Chris’ name flash on her screen alongside a photo of him smiling like the goof he was. A beautiful, sweet picture taken from Shanna’s birthday party three years previous. There was a time recently when she’d let it ring a little longer than was necessary just to allow herself the chance to stare at it for a few seconds more. But now was not one of those times. 

 “I genuinely didn’t think you were gonna answer me.” He said, his voice displaying the disbelief he was feeling. 

 “You would have kept ringing me otherwise.” It wasn’t an accusation as such, and he knew it. 

 “Yeh, probably. But I would have tried not to.” He said, matter-of-factly. “I’m not great with sussing women out but I figured you didn’t want to talk to me that much.” 

 She felt sad to hear him say it out loud even though it was true to an extent. He seemed submissive in some way. “Really?” She asked, more beseeching than she had intended. 

 He paused and she could hear him sigh. “Yeh, I would have. It would have been tough but I’ve thought about it a lot recently and I do have a little pride left, believe it or not.” She heard him straighten up and realised he’d been either lying on his couch or on his bed. “But you messaged me first. I’m kinda surprised to be honest.” 

 He wouldn’t be as surprised or impressed if she said it was just to check he hadn’t died in his sleep. She decided to keep that little tid-bit to herself. 

 “You’ve been quiet lately.” She said. “I mean, I thought...I don’t…” She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “I don’t actually know what I meant to be honest. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t haven’t contacted you out of the blue like this.” 

 “It’s fine. I’m glad you did.” Chris was feeling generous and decided to help her put out the fire. He knew she was panicking a little and no matter what else he was thinking right now, hearing her sound apprehensive wasn’t going to make him feel any better. 

 “I just wondered how you were doing, I suppose. I’ve been talking to Shan a little bit. Not a lot, not like we’re back to normal or anything but I wanted to check you were OK as well.” She tugged at the end of her sweater sleeve currently stretched between her fingers. “I haven’t really asked you that.” 

 He thought for a second. How was he feeling? He wasn’t sure he could give her an answer. He didn’t really know and he couldn’t make it sound half-positive even if he did. He had thrown himself into his work a lot more, much to the joy of Matt and some producers who had been trying to get his attention. When he wasn’t working out, he was reading scripts and when he wasn’t reading scripts, he was watching his diet. He had been very quiet on social media to an extent that someone in his PR team had taken to posting a couple of things on his behalf. Just two or three charity posts and something NASA-related to let his fans know he hadn’t completely disappeared. The team had notified him earlier that day that a cute dog video they had posted just 24 hours previous had gone viral and he had received more marriage proposals than usual as a result. 

 By now, he had learned how to fend off his mother and his brother. To be fair, it wasn’t all that hard to do with Scott. Scott had been understanding enough recently and he had the benefit of knowing when to shut up and let Chris go at his own pace. Pushing him was only going to have the opposite effect. More than once, he found himself wondering if Scott had spoken to Sarah. When he tried to hint around the situation to see if that had in fact been true, Scott had shut him down just as quickly. He didn’t mind that all too much. He appreciated Scott’s discretion and no doubt Sarah needed him just as much as he did. 

 “I’m alright, Bernette.” He said. “You know, fine.” 

 “Fine?” 

 “Yeh. Just fine. Nothing more.” He said. He didn’t much care about sugar-coating things but maybe that was out of a little tiredness and boredom. They were way past protecting each other from the other person’s feelings at this point. 

 “Anyway,” he shook his head. “What about you? How’s things with O’Brien?” 

 “Oh y’know. Yeh, fine, I guess.” She replied. “How did you know there was any issue with O’Brien?” 

 “You gotta love that Audrey.” He chuckled. 

 O’Brien had come under fire last week for yelling at a couple of interns and one of them, unbeknown to anyone else, happened to be the niece of a local congressman. Rumours were circling but Sarah and in fact most of her team had no time to pay attention to anything going on above their heads. That’s the thing with medical emergencies, you see: they never stop just because somebody’s job is on the line. 

 “Right.” She said. “What else has she said?” 

 “Nothing much.” He said. “She said you were worried about me.” There was a smugness that she decided to gloss over. Why was Sarah so surprised they had been talking about her behind her back? Why was she surprised that they had each other’s phone numbers? 

 “And you didn’t think to get in touch?” 

 “I thought you didn’t want to talk to me.” 

 Sarah chewed her bottom lip. If he could only see her now. He’d get a kick out of it for sure. 

 “Alright. Fair enough.” She sighed. “You’re OK. Good to know. I’ll let you get on with whatever you’re up to.” 

 “Is that it? That’s all you wanted to say to me?” 

 “Apparently Audrey has been filling you in.” 

 “Oh fucking-” He stopped himself. “You cannot be mad about this, surely. Listen, all she said was that you weren’t sure if I was OK because you thought I hadn’t been in touch with the guys. That’s all. She was doing the very thing you should have done yourself.” 

 She paused and swallowed. “Right.” 

 “Come on, Sarah. She thought she was helping. She’s just being a good friend.” He pinched the skin on his forehead between his thumb and forefinger. “And it was like yesterday or whenever. It’s not like we’ve been in touch constantly and talking about you all the time. She hasn’t said anything about how much you’re in love with me or how you can’t sleep for thinking about me.” 

 “What?!” 

 “It was a joke.” He deadpanned. 

 “Oh.” She said. 

 His heart sank – it wasn’t that much of a joke, he had hoped. He slid his hand down his face in frustration, pinching his nose slightly before leaning back on his sofa and staring up at the ceiling. He held his phone tightly to his ear and waited for her to speak. 

 “It’s OK.” She finally spoke. “I get it. I shouldn’t have been so distant these past few days. I’m sorry, Chris.” 

 He certainly wasn’t expecting that apology but he could roll with it. “This isn’t all on you, Sarah. I could have been in touch more, too. With everybody, I guess. I had a couple of meetings I had to prepare for so I think I just took that as an excuse not to be more present.” 

 “Anything fun?” She asked, taking the opportunity to change the subject. 

 “Kind of. Nothing massive. It’s an ensemble piece that a director wanted to talk to me about. It actually sounds pretty cool.” He scratched the side of his beard in contemplation. “It’s your cup of tea for sure. You like those murder-mystery-type films, right?” 

 “Oh yeh! Like Agatha Christie and Poirot? Love them.” 

 “I thought so. It’s a great script and I get some funny lines for a change. It’s something a little different and Matt keeps telling me that I need to think outside of the Marvel box, so…we’ll see how it goes.” He could feel himself growing a little more enthusiastic at the prospect of doing the movie. He should probably call Matt and tell him the same thing. He sounded like he was having a rough day so a contrite and grateful actor would cheer him up no end. 

“Anyway, that’s about it. I’m kinda bored to be honest. Have you eaten yet today?” 

 She had all but emptied the fridge last night to remove anything that might go off in the next couple of days. Now it was filled with some of Shanna’s favourite things and there wasn’t anything in it that really appealed to her at this moment in time. She hadn’t thought much about food all day to tell the truth. She figured she’d grab a bagel while waiting for her flight. 

 “Um, no.” She said. “But I’m not that hungry either.” 

 “You don’t want waffles? With white chocolate? Raspberries?” 

 She did want that now he mentioned it. “No, I’m good.” 

 “That’s a lie.” 

 “It is not a lie.” Even she knew she wasn’t being convincing. 

 “Everybody wants waffles.” He implored. “It’s God’s way of saying he wants you to be happy. Come on, it’s my treat.” 

 “I just think…we probably shouldn’t see each other for a while.” She looked down the hall at the packed bags currently leaning against her bedroom door. 

 “It’s waffles, Sarah. I think I can control myself.” 

 “Um…” 

 “That’s good enough for me. See you in twenty.” 

 He hung up before she could respond. With no opportunity to persuade him otherwise, she stayed put in her kitchen, waiting for waffles. 

 * 

 “Hi.” 

 “Hi,” She smiled at him openly and saw his shoulders relax. Without prompting, he walked in past her and placed the take-out boxes on the counter. They were the size of pizza boxes and she felt her tummy rumble in anticipation. 

 “So, I’ve been thinking.” He started as he turned to face her again. 

 “In the few minutes since we last talked?” She spoke in jest. 

 “Hush, Bernette.” He eye-rolled. “I’ll have you know, I’ve been thinking very seriously these past few days and I know it’s tough right now but just hear me out, OK? Because I think I know a way to make things a little easier. Maybe if you get some time off from work, get some time away from everything, from Boston perhaps, it could actually make things a little better for the both of us. For everyone. I’ve been trying to think about things in a different way and not in my usual blinkered view or whatever the fuck Scott says I have, and I honestly think I’m seeing things a little clearer now, and…” 

 He glanced away from her face for only a split second but it was enough for him to visibly shrink a little in his stance before her eyes. Sarah followed his eyeline to the bags currently resting down the hall. The angle of the suitcase was hiding the other bags behind it but if he shifted a mere foot forward, he could possibly get the full picture. 

 Turning back to look at her, he furrowed his brow in confusion. “What’s going on?” 

 Sarah visibly swallowed and he knew the answer before she even opened her mouth. He became all too aware of her hands and arms hanging limply at her sides. 

 “I’m going to see my parents for a few days.” 

 “A few days? That’s a lot for a few days, Sarah. You normally travel light.” 

 “I just packed for a little longer ‘cos I wasn’t sure what I was going to-” 

 Chris didn’t give her time to bend the truth. He turned and walked back into the kitchen. She watched him move to the window before looking down at his feet and shaking his head in frustration. He rubbed a hand solidly over his beard. “You’re leaving.” 

 “Well, yeh, I’m going to see my parents and the two usually go hand in hand.” 

 “Oh, fuck off, Sarah.” He spat. “Don’t get smart with me. You’re doing a runner. This looks like a fucking cop-out.” 

 “No, you’re wrong. It’s not a cop-out and I don’t appreciate that tone either. If I was doing a runner, do you think I would do it in broad daylight and tell everyone what I was doing? I literally just told you where I was going.” She retorted. 

 She grabbed the last bottle of water from the fridge. She wasn’t particularly thirsty at that moment in time but she knew that he would eventually want it and she didn’t much feel like being accommodating right now especially not to a man who was calling her out in her own home. That he was entirely accurate in his assumptions was, well, irrelevant. 

 “How long are you really going for?” He asked as he watched her disappear from view and back down the hall to her bedroom. 

 “I just told you. A few days, maybe a week or so, and then I’ll figure it out from there.” 

 “Figure what out?” 

 “Just…” She turned back to face him, waving her hand vaguely in front of her in the vain hope he would suddenly understand everything she was trying to say. Either he did and didn’t want to give her an easy “out” or, most likely, he had zero clue because neither did she. Giving up, her shoulders slumped from their squared-off position just seconds ago when she was trying to give the impression of strength. “It’s just a lot, all of this, and I need some time out.” 

 He took another couple of small steps towards her before stopping by her bags. Looking down, he could see her intentions as clear as day now but as he looked back into her eyes, he could see her exhaustion ever clearer. They should be on the same side. He shouldn’t be picking on her this way. 

 “You just said I could do with a break, right?” She shrugged. “So, this is what I’m doing. You should be pleased. You could even say I’m taking your advice if you wanted to.” 

 “Yeh, but I actually meant taking a break together.” He conceded. “I came here to say I thought we could go to L.A. for a little while. I need to check on a couple of work things and I thought you could come with me. Nothing funny, I promise. Some proper sunshine might be cool, right?” 

 Sarah was struck by the kind gesture and the glint of hope now showing in his eyes. Despite what they had both said, he clearly hadn’t lost the small possibility that maybe they could try and forge something out of the ruins and, under different circumstances, she might have been tempted. 

 “Thanks for thinking of me.” She offered, merely giving him a small smile. It didn’t seem like there was much else to say. The bags were packed and now that he could take in his surroundings, it felt a little emptier somehow and like it had all been wiped clean. Except he didn’t feel so clean. He could feel her on him, on his skin and in his head, and he doubted he could remove her as easily as she was clearly hoping she could remove him. 

 “Do you think you’ll let us know when you come back?” he asked. 

 She looked passed him and down the hall, focussing on nothing in particular. “Yes, of course I’ll let you guys know. I’m not going forever.” 

She tried her best to convince him but she knew it wasn’t going to do much. 

 “I know that,” he sighed. “but it’ll be weird not seeing you every day. It’ll be sad. I’ll be sad about it.” 

 He let out a deep breath and shuffled his feet awkwardly as he tried to think of something to say that might drag things out a little more, that might cause her to rethink her plans. It was one of the more frustrating things about her, that she could keep a secret so well. He briefly wondered if he could think of some more frustrating things about her that might help him cope with the current situation but no. Who was he kidding? 

 “I like this apartment.” He finally offered. “Some good memories.” 

 “You know that Shanna will still be here, right?” She chuckled. 

 “But you won’t be.” He said. “And between you and me? You’re kind of my favourite.” 

 “I won’t tell Scott you just said that.” 

 “He knows already. I wouldn’t worry about it.” He said. “Hey, do you think I could come and visit you?” 

 “Um-” 

 “-Just think about it. You don’t need to answer right now. It’s been ages since I’ve been to Maine and I hear they have amazing seafood.” 

 Sarah laughed again and regarded him like the small puppy he so obviously was. A small puppy that she realised she had been kicking ever-so-slowly over the past few weeks and it made her feel like shit. As much as she tried to convince herself otherwise, she knew she was running away and she knew she was a coward. 

 “I am sorry, Chris. For everything. I can’t really explain it in a way that means anything right now but I just wanted to say it clearly one more time to you in case I hadn’t really said it before.” 

 Chris held his hand up to stop her from saying anything more. He didn’t need an apology from her. Hearing her apologise only made him feel worse. Of the multiple times she had been caught under his gaze, nothing was quite like the way he was looking at her now. 

 “Sarah,” he started. “I need you to know that whatever it is you want from me, I’ll never say no.” 

 “Chris, I-” 

 “-Honestly, that’s….that’s the only thing I really wanted to say.” He held his hand up again to stop her if she was thinking of interrupting him again. “I’m gonna go and I hope you have a safe trip, OK? Enjoy your waffle. Maybe send me a text or something, let me know you made it there in one piece. If you want to. Maybe we’ll see each other again sooner rather than later.” 

 She saw his eyes glance behind her and into her bedroom. He turned and glanced once more into the bathroom like he was taking a mental picture of the place which seemed crazy to her until she remembered that he wasn’t strictly talking to Shanna and it was unlikely he’d be back here anytime soon. God, she hoped they’d fix things. She needed to at least believe her leaving would make things a little better for them. Otherwise, what would be the point? 

 * 

 They didn’t say goodbye in the typical sense or any kind of sense, really. She was almost relieved to watch him walk away quietly without looking back and equally as relieved to have made it to the airport without much more fuss. 

 Like it was said, she was a coward. 

 Audrey had called her to wish her a safe journey and then spent fifteen minutes complaining about O’Brien and a patient who had taken to calling her “princess”. Sarah was glad of the distraction as she made her way through the airport towards the waiting lounge. It was pretty busy for the time of evening but she was glad to feel invisible once again as she moved through the heavy criss-crossing crowds of people, each with their own issues to deal with. Something about strength in numbers perhaps. A couple more hours and she’d be home again. A couple more hours and Jocelyn could stop texting her messages that made little sense. 

 Oh God. 

 Living with her mother again was going to try her patience. Maybe this was the price she had to bear? It wasn’t too late to change her mind, Audrey had said before pleading in a half-joking, half-serious manner that surely, she wasn’t going to leave her to handle the hospital by herself? It was almost like she was expecting never to see Sarah again. A few weeks. That was all it was going to be. Then she’d figure out what to do from there, with a break and some fresh Maine-air to clear the cobwebs. Chris was right about the seafood and the closer she got to her departure time, the more she started looking forward to it. She was sure she was making the right decision. 

 Chris 19.46pm: Don’t forget about us xx 

 She was sure she was making the right decision. 

 It was 100% the right decision. 

 Right?

*