#I’ll be sad to see one less soap on the air but everything here feels rotted

[rosehathawhey]

Something tells me that General Hospital isn’t going to survive whatever this “story” is…

[katnissmellarkkk]

Okayyyy here comes the next chapter ! Number .... lemme look. Okay, number six! 🥳🥳🥳

And yes, my thoughts as usual will be a messy, very Everlark-biased and full of typos. Letsss gooooo 🥰🥰🥰

Is this the first time Katniss and Peeta have been to their floor or is this just the most opportune time to explain and introduce the Tribute Center living quarters?

Also why are they called tributes anyway? That word suddenly seems weird to me after nine years... 🤔🤔🤔

“I've ridden the elevator a couple of times in the Justice Building back in District 12. Once to receive the medal for my father's death and then yesterday to say my final goodbyes to my friends and family” .... 😶😶 so only good memories and connotations to elevators then, huh?

“The walls of this elevator are made of crystal so that you can watch the people on the ground floor shrink to ants as you shoot up into the air.” My mind is just imagining the elevator in Andrew Garfield and Emma Stone’s Spider-Man movies 🤗.

“It's exhilarating and I'm tempted to ask Effie Trinket if we can ride it again, but somehow that seems childish” this is so cute and innocent omg. Katniss, like I said in my last chapter blog, still has some childlike innocence left in her 🥺🥺🥺. I’m a sad.

Also excuse the unnecessary extra gif use but 🤭🤭🤭

Oh wow, so Haymitch hasn’t been around since they were on the train? No wonder neither Katniss nor Peeta fled they could trust him for basically the entirety of the first book. 😐😐😐

You know it’s bad when Effie being around feels like a blessing to Katniss. Girl has more restraint than me, I’d have ripped off this woman’s janky wig by now without remorse. 🤷🏼‍♀️🤷🏼‍♀️🤷🏼‍♀️🤷🏼‍♀️

Effie acts like they’re her purebred show dogs. I know I know how is this news, that’s a blatant fact. The movies really softened her up tho for the general audience. And I bleed the movies and books together more than I should 😔😔😔

Well at least she’s made herself useful, trying to get Everlark sponsors ... even if it’s ultimately to benefit herself above anyone else .... 😤

Effie calling Twelve barbaric while she’s preparing them for the slaughter isn’t even ironic it’s like literally just brainless. Johanna probably had the nickname floating around for a lot of people before she officially knighted Katniss with it 😭

“Everyone has their reservations, naturally. You being from the coal district.” Is this how they refer to Twelve? So basically if a district makes a better item, it’s a more worthy one in the Capitol’s eyes? So essentially, if District Eight made like diamonds or pearls or whatever then it would be more worthy? So are the districts assigned their numbers (one, two, three, four, etc) based on their order of importance to the Capitol’s lifestyle? I always thought it was based on their distance in relation to the Capitol? Okay so I didn’t really pay much attention to these facts previously when I read these books ok look away I’m an idiot

Omg 😭😭😭😭 Effie is such an idiot. But the coal turns to pearls thing is my favorite line from her only because it serves as the cutest inside joke when Peeta makes a callback to it in Catching Fire and Finnick is just like “why are these two teenagers so stupid who did I ally with? 🥵😳🥵😳🥵”

“I wonder if the people she's been plugging us to all day either know or care.” After reading Songbirds and Snakes, I’m sure they don’t have a clue, boo. 😑😑😑😑 although not everyone was an idiot back then ... maybe Snow is putting lead in the drinking water?

“But don't worry, I'll get him to the table at gunpoint if necessary.” I know she’s trying to help and I know we say this kind of thing today, but considering this is two kids she’s well aware will be heading into a death match this is just bad wording I know surprise surprise 🙄🙄🙄😬😬😬😬

“Although lacking in many departments, Effie Trinket has a certain determination I have to admire.” Katniss really does see the best in people. What’s sad, y’all, is I think Katniss unconsciously really tries to like people and that’s why she has her guard up so high. Because the softer you are, the easier people will step all over you. Terrible phrasing here, Samantha, I’m so sorry to any of my readers ... okay now that sounded arrogant, implying I have readers 🤭🤭🤭🤭🤣😅🤣😅🤣😅

“My quarters are larger than our entire house back home.” Omg? I mean, yes, I knew this already obviously no duh but like also. Just the fact that three people live in a space smaller than a bedroom and bathroom arena is saddy sad sad. Also do they have indoor plumbing in the Seam or is their backyards just full of—okay, I’ll see myself out. 😶🤭😅🙃

“The shower alone has a panel with more than a hundred options you can choose regulating water temperature, pressure, soaps, shampoos, scents, oils, and massaging sponges.” I’m just imagining a Spongebob scene ngl.

I’m sorry there’s so many gifs this time around it’s probably taking us out of the reading headspace I’ll never do it again 😩😩😩😩 I talk like I have a class of people listening to me 🤭🤭🤭

“Instead of struggling with the knots in my wet hair, I merely place my hand on a box that sends a current through my scalp, untangling, parting, and drying my hair almost instantly” I need this someone invent this NOW my brush is yanking out my hair 😔😩

“I program the closet for an outfit to my taste.” ‘Yes, Alexa, I’d like a hunting jacket, some boots and a green shirt. Yes, it can be brown.’

“You need only whisper a type of food from a gigantic menu into a mouthpiece and it appears, hot and steamy, before you in less than a minute.” I like this idea because it means that Peeta could order hot choccy to comfort Katniss after her nightmares in Catching Fire from the comfort of her their own bed. 🤗🤗🤗 also I want this for myself. The bad people are giving my greedy self ideas look away everyone 😬

“I walk around the room eating goose liver and puffy bread until there's a knock on the door.” 🤢🤢🤢🤢 Of everything you could have chosen, child, this is what you decided on? Someone help my girl and her rotten tastebuds now.

“Effie's calling me to dinner. Good. I'm starving.” Baby, you were just eating. She’s so nutritionally messed up. 😔😔😔

Katniss trying wine 🥳🥳🥳 she’s so funny, trying to find a way to improve the taste 😅. She’ll make a good taste tester for her baker husband one day.

Hahahaha Katniss not liking the feeling and judging Haymitch for always being tipsy. Also this is sad because she ends up addicted to morphling later one which is far worse than a little wine.

I’m glad to know Baked Alaska survived the apocalypse 😅🥳

Katniss just constantly trying to decipher the recipe of every meal and how to recreate it reads cute on a surface level but it’s actually so tragic because everything to this girl is based around food. Like even more than is typically noticed. They really should have given a hint at this in the first movie. Good thing she marries a man who can always keep her full.

I’m just forever side-eyeing you, Gare Bear.

That’s Gary Ross for the confused kids in the back.

Why does Katniss yelling mid-sentence, “oh! I know you!” add to her innocence? 🥺 it’s because she was overwhelmed by all the food and new luxuries she’d never even been able to imagine ... and also this is pre her first games so she’s still got some childhood left in her 😩😔

I wonder how Lavinia felt seeing Katniss volunteer and knowing she’d be her Avox? I wonder if she, like Cinna, somehow volunteered to be her Avox?

I mean ... talk about convenient placement that this specific girl was assigned to Katniss’ district—oh wait, y’all, I just caught myself. She’s from Twelve. She was assigned to Twelve’s tributes because she’s from there, duh. I’m such an airhead omg just call me Effie.

Don’t you actually dare.

“When I look back, the four adults are watching me like hawks.” Meanwhile, Peeta is just like 😬😬😬 eating his dinner.

Actually, ngl, this could be such a reach and it probably is but like maybe Peeta sensed a confrontation coming and, because of his implied upbringing, he naturally becomes silent or makes himself invisible when trouble starts looking like it’s gonna arise. 🥺🥺🥺 I don’t know why I say these things I’m just hurting my own feelings but ya know the drill. I thought it so I said it.

Why is Effie yelling at Katniss for saying she knows the Avox girl like omg overreaction much? And I know, the sky is blue 🙄🙄🙄 she’s prejudiced against basically everyone, I know, I know

Rip her wig off, Katty Deen 🤗🤗🤗

Oh I stupidly forgot that Avoxes are supposedly known by everyone to be traitors or criminals. So I suppose this isn’t Effie’s worst offense but I’m keeping a tally anyways

Katniss is blaming her stuttering on the wine but my girl just has social anxiety 😔😔😔

Peeta coming in with a save 😭😭😭 he’s already trying saving his girl 🤧

Alsoooo the unspoken friendship, the covering for the other and teaming up against the adults, is still riding high and going strong here 🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰 look away, y’all, the shipper comments are coming in strong

Also why is this the first real interaction with Peeta in this chapter yet? My baby needs more page-time 🤭🤭🤭

“Delly Cartwright is a pasty-faced, lumpy girl with yellowish hair who looks about as much like our server as a beetle does a butterfly.” Now why did Katniss just tear Delly to shreds for no reason at all 😭😭😭 this was a surprise assault on the poor girl 🙃🙃🙃🙃

“She may also be the friendliest person on the planet - she smiles constantly at everybody in school, even me.” Okay not to tie absolutely everything back to Peeta ... but to tie absolutely everything back to Peeta ... this description of poor, sweet Delly is actually indicative of Peeta’s character? Since Delly, we find out in Mockingjay, is Peeta’s childhood best friend, her personality being this sunny, kind, good-natured person tells us Peeta has always probably been somewhat like her and perhaps not as much like the other town kids Katniss implies to be stuck up or snooty. Maybe Katniss is just shady and deflects onto others 🤷🏼‍♀️🤷🏼‍♀️🤷🏼‍♀️.

Also the fact that she gives this like ... mean description of Delly but saw Peeta as popular, even though surely Delly and Peeta spent time at school together, implies further that Katniss did indeed harbor a secret crush on Peeta even before the reaping. A very mild comparison of his on her though, of course 😅😅😅

“It must be the hair” “something about the eyes too” their piggybacking on the other’s comments really is just chiefs kiss 😘🤗🥰🤧 FYI I know the saying is chefs kiss but I made the typo once a long time ago and decided to add it forever to my brand 🤗🙃🥳

Also though this Everlark interaction is reminiscent of when two kids get caught by their teacher goofing off in class and covering for each other 🥰 only it’s a lot more deadly stakes

“A few of the other couples make a nice impression, but none of them can hold a candle to us.” She’s so modest 🤧🤧🤧 her narration here and during the Tribute Parade just has the vibes of ... well .... sorry in advance

Haymitch’s comment “Just the perfect touch of rebellion. Very nice” leads me to think he and Cinna and maybe Portia were always in cahoots about the rebellion even before Katniss and Peeta came along and well ... lit their match on fire 🥁🤗🤣🤭

Katniss is like “rebellion??? Rebellion where??? What’s that you old people speak of???” And yet, girlfriend goes out to the woods and hunts illegally every day of her life 🤣🤣🤣🤣.

“But when I remember the other couples, standing stiffly apart, never touching or acknowledging each other, as if their fellow tribute did not exist” too lazy too look it up but there’s a quote from Ballad about Lucy Gray and Jessup being distinguished by their visible friendship too that set them apart from the other tributes.

Either Suzanne thought of drawing a nice parallel showing what a failed Everlark attempt looks like, because I firmly stand by the fact that without their real feelings behind their act, even Katniss’ unconscious ones, they wouldn’t have pulled it off, or Suzzie just reused her own content. I prefer the former but I think it’s probably the latter 🤭🤭🤭

“Now go get some sleep while the grown-ups talk." I know Haymitch is being facetious here but this quote reminded me of the fact that the movies would have hit differently if they’d cast actual sixteen year olds in the roles.

“When we get to my door, he leans against the frame, not blocking my entrance exactly but insisting I pay attention to him.” This is such a flirty, high school boy pose, you cannot convince me otherwise 😭😭😭

Also I definitely feel like Peeta is getting more and more confident here because he’s oblivious to Katniss’ inner monologue as much as she is his actually we all are his sadly and he probably thinks she’s starting to like him 🤧🤧🤧

“So, Delly Cartwright. Imagine finding her lookalike here." 🤣 He honestly cracks me up idk why this line isn’t even special or that great. He’s just so ... subtly nosy / funny. Which brings me to that quote from Mockingjay where Katniss talks about his sense of humor because it’s one of the things she loves most about him 😭😭😭

But he’s like, “I can keep a secret, Katniss, tell me who that tongueless chick is to you 😬”

Katniss stop talking about debts, friends cover for the other all the time 🙄🙄 I know it’s in her character stop yelling at a fish for swimming that’s not a real phrase I know that too

Okay first of all, they’re about to share a secret 🥰🥰🥰🥰. My shipper goggles are on tight and obstructing my vision. I know this and am proud 😬🥳🤗

And secondly, “Maybe sharing a confidence will actually make him believe I see him as a friend.” Hey, butthead, you two are already friends. She doesn’t even recognize that the girl who constantly sits with her, talks to her, eats with her and trades with her is her friend either though, I’m shocked she calls Gale her friend

Does Peeta get to know Cinna too? I don’t think so but it’s mentioned now a couple times in this chapter alone that Peeta has interacted with Cinna. Katniss never interacts or has a conversation with Portia.... then again, is that even surprising? Katniss isn’t ... what you would call ... social. Hashtag relatable.

Awww, they’re communicating so effectively together 🥰😭🤧🥳

Also rooftops belong to Everlark only 😍😊😉 I mean, seriously, Katniss never goes up on a rooftop with anyone else. Besides Haymitch in the first movie but we ignore.

“Electricity in District 12 comes and goes, usually we only have it a few hours a day.” Earlier she said the Seam didn’t often have electricity, in particular, so either she’s not specifying her section of the district anymore or Suzanne is backtracking.

“But here there would be no shortage. Ever.” I’ve had two power outages recently so clearly the Capitol isn’t based on us currently today then 😐😐 I’m just joking ok

“I asked Cinna why they let us up here. Weren't they worried that some of the tributes might decide to jump right over the side?” .... boyfriend, where does your mind go sometimes? Peeta’s darker than we realize, y’all 🤭🤭🙃🙃

“He holds out his hand into seemingly empty space. There's a sharp zap and he jerks it back” between this and Catching Fire, Peeta is addicted to getting shocked by forcefields 🤧🤧🤧

“I wonder if we're supposed to be up here now, so late and alone.” If this was a romantic drama or comedy, that line would have meant something a lot more fun 😒😔😬😉😏

“On the other side of the dome, they've built a garden with flower beds and potted trees.” Is this meant to resemble Snow’s grandmother’s garden???? Like he had them put a garden there to like ... put a piece of his Grandma’am in the games? Idk this made zero sense it was a stupid thought

Two people in a garden at night, with wind chimes, sounds romantic in any other context. 🥺🥺

Ummm does everyone in the entire district know Katniss and her father used to hunt together?

Oh nevermind, Lavinia is not from District Twelve. My bad, guys. I should go up and edit my previous thoughts but that’s a lot of work. 😅😅😅

Katniss, stop being so hard on yourself. You and Gale were kids. 😣😣

Ummm, Katniss for a girl always complimenting Peeta’s storyteller, you’re pretty good at painting a picture yourself...

Peeta noticing she’s shivering 🥰🥺

He gives her ... his jacket 😭😭😭😭 such a romantic troupe Samantha, get over it there’s literally children dying

Oh wow, Lavinia was from the Capitol originally. Hmm, it is sus now that she got District Twelve this particular year.

But also 🤧🤧🤧 “he secures a button at my neck.”

His hands .... are .... often .... at her .... neck .... 😶😬 .... look away, y’all

Oh wow, Katniss is over here thinking, “who’d leave the Capitol if they were from here???” And Peeta’s like instantly, loudly, without hesitating, “well I would 🙋🏼‍♂️”

Hot take, y’all ready? Peeta was a bigger rebel than Katniss from the start. At least internally.

Awww, Peeta is so jealous 😭😭😭😭 and kind of nosy 🤭🤭🤭

Katniss : “me and Gale are not related” Peeta : “😬🙃😭😩😶”

“I'd set out to tell her I was sorry about dinner. [...] my apology runs much deeper. [...] I let the Capitol kill the boy and mutilate her without lifting a finger. Just like I was watching the Games.” I feel like this is actually a good comparison though, because of you grew up in a society where you have to watch kids die, your whole entire life you’ve watched it in a glorified television show, you would be really desensitized to it...

“You don't forget the face of the person who was your last hope.” Here she’s talking about Lavinia but it applies to Peeta too. Katniss was Lavinia’s last hope and she feels like she let her down but Peeta was her last hope once and he came through. And, as she said in chapter one, she’ll never forget him for it. And for other things too. Later on. 😏

Of course my last bullet point was focused on Everlark 🤣 is anyone surprised you shouldn’t be we all knew who this post was written by right? 😅

And once again, if too made through this marathon, congratulations 🥳🥳🥳🥳 maybe next chapter I’ll talk less not likely though so don’t count on it 😅

[diavolodigitale]

Heart of Stone

Cullen + red lyrium = the Big Sad

One of the favourites of mine when it comes to my own works. I absolutely loved writing it so I do hope it will find its reader one day.

Genres: Angst, Drama, Dark, Deviates From Canon, Hurt, Mental Health Issues

Pairing: Male Inquisitor Lavellan & Cullen Rutherford, (optional) Male Inquisitor Lavellan/Cullen Rutherford

Characters: Cullen Rutherford, Male Inquisitor Lavellan, Varric Tethras, Cassandra Pentaghast, Solas, Cole, Vivienne 

Rating: M for Might be disturbing for some readers

Size: around 18 pages

THE PAIRING IS OPTIONAL! This work is not intended to contain the pairing male!Lavellan/Cullen, but I am also completely fine if somebody chooses to read it that way. 

The numbers in the text stand for the songs in my playlist you have to listen to while reading to get a better experience.

Here's the list of songs: 1. Soap&Skin - The Sun 2. L'Enfant De La Forêt - Katabasis 3. L'Enfant De La Forêt - Noir-Etang 4. Soap&Skin - Deathmental 5. L'Enfant De La Forêt - ...For The Love Of God 6. Soap&Skin - Janitor of Lunacy 7. Soap&Skin - Sugarbread 8. Soap&Skin - Marche Funèbre

(01) “Why won’t you let me out, Inquisitor?”

“Don’t talk to me.”

“I thought you came here to talk. You always do.”

“I said don’t talk to me!”

“Abandon all hope, ye who enter here… Have you abandoned?” Cullen twitched forward; the chains holding him clinked loudly in dead silence of the prison cell. “Have you? Have you, Inquisitor?”

Inquisitor turned away, afraid to look at the face of somebody he once called a friend. Pale, worn-out, and distorted, it resembled a shadow of a person, a spirit who escaped the Fade and now lurked among others with nothing reminding him of what he used to be.

“I want to see your eyes, Inquisitor. You made me like this, you keep me here. It’s all your fault.”

“It isn’t. You are here because I have faith in you. You won’t make me hate you, no matter what you say.”

“Oh, you already hate me,”—Cullen laughed insincerely—“I know you do. I can sense it. But there is still a chance…”

Inquisitor raised his head. He gripped the bars tightly and leaned forward, so close that he could feel cold iron touching the skin on his cheeks and forehead.

“What do you mean?” he asked.

Cullen closed his eyes. His body was relaxed, hands were loosely hanging. The veins visible under half-transparent skin were pulsating red.

“If you could let me share the song with you…” he muttered under his breath. “It’s so serene. You’ll see, you’ll understand then. You left me here on my own with it, and I accepted it, and so will you.”

Inquisitor’s hands exploded with a burst of magic as he clutched the bars with all the force he had left in his weakened body. His teeth were grit and his head hurt. He tried to say something, but no sound came out – his throat seemed swollen and a feeling of pressure in his chest made it difficult to breathe.

“You owe me this. I’m here because of you. Listen to me”—Cullen made a pause, waiting for the Inquisitor to react—“Listen to me!” he shouted, gripping his fists and rattling the chains that bound him.

Lavellan looked him in the eyes, ready to suffer through whatever he had to tell him.

“The song I used to hear is nothing compared to this one…” went on Cullen in a less agitated manner. “It embraces, caresses… I would hear it in my sleep, but now I don’t sleep anymore... First, the dreams left, and now I don’t need to sleep at all. I just listen.”

“I’ll find the cure,” said Inquisitor in an attempt to persuade Cullen, though, not sounding confident enough to believe it himself.

“I don’t need any cure, Inquisitor. I am not sick. I need to get out of here, I need to feel the wind, the heat of it is KILLING me!”

“You have to withstand it. The lyrium will devour you if you don’t resist, you know that!”

Cullen chuckled. His voice was crispy and low after spending so much time in a cold cell without any food and water. He wasn’t denied it, he just refused to take any.

“You’re not supposed to resist,” he made a special emphasis on the last word. “It makes you stronger, it lets you see so much more… You have no idea.”

Inquisitor let go of the bars frozen by a sudden outburst of his magic. He barely managed to keep it inside as it wanted to get out so eagerly and uncontrollably. This place smelled of despair and desolation and it took away all the energy he had. He wanted to leave, but could not force himself to do so.

Cullen slowly hummed a few notes while crossing his legs on the bare stone floor. He drew deep long breath and a hint of a smile touched his chapped lips as he spoke.

“I hated mages. You already know that, I recon. As any other reasonable templar would do. I was afraid of their power, but now… Now I am not. Your magic doesn’t scare me, Inquisitor, because soon even you won’t be able to stop me.”

“I don’t want to stop you. I just want to help.”

“Help yourself, Inquisitor. You look pathetic.”

Lavellan looked not much better than his former Commander. He barely got any sleep, always having to help others, being not himself, but the Inquisitor. Those few free moments he had he would spend in this dungeon of anguish, chiding himself for what had happened to Cullen and making himself suffer by looking at the sufferings of the templar.

Time was passing by mercilessly. He wished he could stay there without any movement forever, but the whole world was frantically spinning around him and without his intervention everything could fall apart any minute. He threw one last tired look at the templar and left the prison, foolishly hoping the next time he came everything would be different.

“I’ll be here, Inquisitor. In case you want to chat.”

Cullen didn’t stop smiling. His posture was stiff and eyes were blank, glowing crimson red.

 (02-03) “Inquisitor.”

“Yes, Solas?” Lavellan stopped to greet the elf with an exhausted half-smile on his face. He knew he couldn’t fool him, but the habit of pretending had already become a part of him.

“You’ve been there again. Don’t deny it.” Solas’ eyes were piercing the Inquisitor. It was not a question because he did not really need the answer, he knew everything intuitively. This terrifying power of his never left Lavellan any chance of retrieval.

“Yes, I have. I am trying to understand…” Inquisitor looked down in a kind of shame, like a child who did what was not allowed. “There must be something I can do,” he added quietly.

“If you really want to help him, you must put him out of his misery. This is the only option. The longer you wait, the more his condition deteriorates,” said Solas in a tone that did not allow for any disagreement.

The throbbing pain in his temples made Lavellan feel as if he also heard the song. The one that outvoiced all his thoughts and common sense, forced him to say what he didn’t mean and let slowly crawling insanity possess his mind.

“I don’t care. I do not care what you think, Solas!” he yelled, not paying attention to all the other people in the castle yard who were startled by his outburst of anger. “I will not abandon him, even if it will be the death of me!”

Solas frowned. This was the only visible sign of his dissatisfaction. Even though he greatly disapproved of what the Inquisitor’s opinion was, he would never lose his temper.

“You don’t belong to yourself anymore. People rely on you, and you have to remember that. Sometimes thousand lives are more important than one,” he simply said.

Lavellan shook his head, now feeling ashamed for his behaviour. He did not mean it, merely didn’t know how to defend his position anymore.

“I know… I am sorry,” he replied. “I promise to think it over. I just need some rest; it’s been a long day.”

“Indeed, it has. I understand, my friend. Great responsibility lies on your shoulders.” Solas patted Lavellan on the back. “Don’t try to carry it on your own. We are all here to share it with you.”

Inquisitor nodded gratefully and hurried to leave the unpleasant conversation behind.

“Varric wanted to see you. He looked worried,” said Solas after him.

“Thank you. I will see him at once,” answered Inquisitor, disappointed that he couldn’t be left alone even for a moment.

The dwarf was right were Lavellan assumed he would be – near the fireplace in the great hall, working on his drafts. The mage approached a wooden table and took a seat on a chair near Varric.

“Your Inquisitorialness,” said Varric and took his gaze off the pages scattered all over the table. “You look… good enough.” The expression on his face suggested he was of a different opinion.

“You don’t have to lie to me, Varric. You’re the only person here allowed to criticize me so we’re friends no matter what you say.”

“Okay, well, a little rough around the edges, but I’ve seen worse.” The dwarf smiled in a friendly way, finally put aside his soaked in ink quill and diverted all of his attention to the conversation.

“I appreciate the honesty,” said Lavellan. His head still hurt, but the tender warmth of the fire in the fireplace and the calm air always present around Varric made it easier to endure.

“Chuckles probably made it sound like a big deal, but there wasn’t really any significant reason I needed to see you. Just wanted to tell you that Cassandra took over all of Commander’s plans and… Well, she’ll take care of everything. Things will continue as planned.”

“I appreciate that as well,” said Inquisitor, his voice gradually becoming quieter. He knew he should talk to Cassandra. After all, her role in the Inquisition was already great enough, and now she had even more responsibilities to deal with. Yet he did not know what to tell her. He could neither congratulate her not say that he was sorry. All seemed wrong.

“Look, I know you don’t want to talk about it, but let me say something. I know how it feels.”

Varric also possessed the ability to know what people around him thought about and it made the Inquisitor consider the fact that he was the only one who couldn’t see past the pretension of others. He couldn’t even understand his own thoughts, let alone somebody else’s.

He didn’t answer, just looked blankly in front of himself, right into the void, at nothing in particular.

“I lost my brother to it…” continued Varric.

“I’ve never heard you had a brother. What was he like?”

“Stubborn would probably be the best word to describe him.”

“Seems like you two had quite a lot in common,” said Inquisitor jokingly.

“Not really. He was this “businessman” type of guy – always thinking about profits and dubious affairs. And, unlike me, he wasn’t a charismatic and talented hero-lover.”

“Obviously. It is hard to find another dwarf like you.”

“Impossible, I would say”—Varric heaved a deep sigh and his tone shifted to a more serious one—“It’s difficult to come in terms with at the beginning, but sooner or later you just do. It’s long and complicated, but we’re all here to support you. We knew what we signed up for.”

Inquisitor thought that it wasn’t true. He didn’t know. Cullen didn’t know. Nobody knew. Even so, he would probably be able to accept any consequences if they applied to him personally, but he was not ready to watch others degrade that easily.

“You should go and lie down. My talks make you sleepy, apparently.” Varric gave Lavellan an encouraging wink in an effort to end the conversation on a higher note.

“It’s good to hear at least one actually useful advice today,” said Lavellan. “Let me know if anything needs my attention.”

“Of course.”

Varric dipped his quill in ink and continued writing. Inquisitor headed to his quarters, trying not to pass out from fatigue on his way there.

 (04) The next time Inquisitor entered the dreary prison, he barely managed to hold in a scream of terror. Cullen’s state was rapidly decaying. Red lyrium crystals were nesting on him, tearing the pale skin from the inside, feeding on his flesh. The whole cell was illuminated by appalling red light emitted by the crystals that were now part of his body. It was unbearably hot down there – apart from light, the lyrium also radiated heat. Cullen hardly moved since the last time Inquisitor saw him.

“I thought you’d never come,” he said with the same ominous smile he demonstrated previously. There was neither kindness nor hospitality in it.

“I was busy.” Inquisitor swallowed his horror before the intimidating creature dwelling in the basement of his castle and approached the cell. “Does it hurt?”

“It used to. It was more painful when I tried to oppose my addiction. Now, having given in, I see that there was no point in it. The most difficult path isn’t always the right one.”

“I refuse to believe that this is really what you think!”

Lavellan’s right hand flushed with green light. His constantly pressured and distraught state of mind depressed his control over magic abilities, especially those concerned with the Mark. Closing small tears grew more and more troublesome, as his power did not obey him and instead forced more demons to come out of the Fade.

“I gain power while you lose it. How ironic.” Cullen’s red eyes were staring right into Inquisitor’s soul, omitting what was on the outside. Lavellan’s appearance made it obvious that he was also experiencing drastic changes, but Cullen did not need to see how he looked to know that he was broken already. “The Anchor doesn’t belong to you, so soon it will turn against you, the way it should’ve done long ago. And then the Master will take it.”

“The Master? Now you serve him? Cullen, have you forgotten what he did to our people? Haven’t you seen how the Sanctuary was destroyed?”

“I remember everything perfectly, and that is why I understand how fast he will achieve dominance over everything else. You’re blind, Inquisitor, and I gained my sight here, in this dark basement, thanks to you. I pity you for how miserable your efforts to defy us are.”

“You have never talked to him, Cullen. He is insane, he blatantly uses everyone who supports him. They are disposable! Do you really want to be one of them?”

“I don’t need to talk to him, I have the song. It’s with me all the time. Unlike you were.” Cullen stopped smiling and grimaced. “If the song I heard from usual lyrium reminded the voice of the Maker, then this one sounds like the Old God. Something greater than all of us, something indescribable and immensely strong. There is no Maker in the Golden City, Inquisitor. Nobody cares about your soul, might as well sacrifice it in the grand battle for this world. But betting on the right side.”

“Cullen, you’re not yourself anymore…”

“Have you just noticed? What kind of leader are you if you don’t pay attention to what is going on with your advisors and trusted ones? To how Leliana bends down under the weight of the decision she makes for you, to how the Bull is torn between what is dear to him and what he must do, to how Cole suffers every minute he is present in this world affected by the vices and sins people commit… And all because of you.”

Lavellan tried not to yield, not to show that every word pierced him like a dagger. Every day he thought about all the lost opportunities, missed chances and mistakes made. Every night he lay sleepless because of the regrets and guilt haunting him whenever he closed his eyes. He did not see darkness under the lowered eyelids, only the faces of people he lost to the war nobody was ready for. However absurd templar’s words were, he would believe them because he himself was disappointed in what leader he turned out to be. He tried not to yield but did it quite poorly.

“Even though you don’t admit it, I know you’re crushed. You’re as lost as the day the Breach opened and you were the only one to survive the explosion. I could show you the way… or end you. You decide.”

“I don’t need any help from you. You are not the person you pretend to be anyway... We’ll talk everything over, but only when I bring back the Commander I know.”

“How persistent,” said Cullen, stretching every word as if he was savouring them. “It’s a shame you weren’t so determined previously. Perhaps it would have saved a lot of lives and your beloved Commander in his previous form. Although, I am quite upset that you prefer to disown me now that you don’t like the way I am anymore. You turned out to be so shallow…”

“We’ve all seen what lyrium does to the templars, Cullen… Your words will not influence me because I know that it’s the Blight talking in you. Once you get rid of that filth—”

“You’re not really so certain, are you?” asked Cullen mockingly and laughed. “You think you can just rip it out of me, but it runs through my veins now. You can try whatever you want, you can break the crystals, you can cut them out, you can use your wretched magic, your Mark, yet you will not make the song go away. It will grow louder and stronger, and so will I.”

“You haven’t eaten for days, Cullen. You don’t sleep, you don’t talk to people. Your life slips through your fingers. Nobody is allowed to go down here except for me, so I am the only one who can help you. Please, don’t make it worse for the both of us.”

“I’m not the one making it worse. You are.”

Cullen turned his head away from the Inquisitor, not willing to talk anymore. The crystals on his body glimmered with red lights. There were no other light sources in the basement so Cullen’s face was illuminated only by this sinister glow. His eyes as well as the veins visibly pulsating under the dead-white skin of his drained body were red. Everything about him was red. The fetters around his wrists were covered in rust, but the glow of the crystals made it seem like they were rotting.  

Lavellan couldn’t help but notice that most of the crystals were growing on his left shoulder and the appropriate side of his neck, forming a cluster. A number of smaller ones was spread over his stomach and forearms. Although he had already spent days in the cell, his body wasn’t as weakened and feeble as it should have been, and it scared the elf. He really wasn’t going to die or surrender that easily.

Inquisitor did not know how long he stood there without saying anything, just examining the former Commander. At one moment, the realization that he hated being there just dawned on him. He slept for a few hours and even tried to eat before coming, but now felt as if he hadn’t had any rest for weeks. The heat produced by the lyrium crystals made him feel feverish. His vision became dizzy and he thought that he may lose consciousness if he stayed here.

The room that always felt so empty now seemed to be filled with presence. Cullen was the only prisoner, but to Inquisitor the basement seemed overcrowded: he couldn’t breathe freely, his whole body hurt as if he was pushed around with heavy shoves. Convincing himself that there was nothing he could say or do to help Cullen right here and right now, he decided to leave.

Cullen said nothing.

 (05) “Oh, dear, you look hideous,” said Vivienne, catching Inquisitor on his way to the war table. Her voice suggested that she was both unsatisfied and a little bothered. “We need to do something about that immediately,” she added, looking him up and down.

“I am sorry, Vivienne, but there is no time for that. One of our scouts went missing and we need to decide where we should start searching. I promise I’ll get some sleep later.”

“No-no, beauty sleep will not help you anymore. I’m afraid, we need to eliminate the cause of your worries or else you’ll scare all our allies away.”

“I know what you want to tell me and no, I will not—”

“This is not a discussion, my dear,” said Vivienne, interrupting Lavellan who already raised his hand as a sign of protest. “It’s difficult for all of us, but you cannot show your weakness. You represent the Inquisition and appearing like that is almost the same as telling everybody we are just a group of worthless bandits. Look at those clothes, at that face… You look like you were the one who sat in that cell with no fresh air and good company. Please, I beg you, don’t make me feel ashamed of you.”

“I cannot promise you to deal with what bothers me, but I will pull myself together,” managed to utter Inquisitor after a few seconds of silence.

“And the clothing.” Vivienne looked skeptically at the old torn leather armor Inquisitor had been wearing for god knows how many days.

“Yes, I will surely change it.”

“That is what I wanted to hear. Don’t let others use your vulnerability against you. Don’t look like you have any in the first place.”

Inquisitor nodded to the Grand Enchanter to pay his respect. She gave him a polite nod as well before leaving him in the great hall. In reality, he rarely shared her point of view regarding pretty much anything, but he just could not resist her openly: she was too powerful and too valuable. Her knowledge of Orlesian court and magic powers were of great use to the Inquisition so sometimes he just needed to say what she wanted to hear in order to keep their temporary peace.

He hurried to open the heavy wooden door that led to the command centre. All of his advisors had already gathered at the war table. All, but one.

As days went by, Inquisitor slowly descended into madness. He frantically slaughtered all enemies he met on his way being as merciless as never before. His magic powers grew to be more effective on the battlefield, burning, freezing, and crushing, but, at the same time, almost uncontrollable. There was no middle ground for him, only lethal blows. Each red templar he spotted made him furious beyond all reason – he used every single spell on them to see what dealt the most damage. He couldn’t use his healing powers anymore, but instead gained the ability to bring the strongest pain to every red lyrium addict he saw. Blackwall, Dorian and Varric shared his hate for the enemies they fought, but certainly did not approve of his methods. They thought nobody deserved that much suffering, no matter what they did.

When time allowed it, Lavellan would stop to examine the bodies of the deceased templars. He paid special attention to how the crystals rooting in their bodies developed and grew, how the skin around the ruptures looked and behaved. He killed countless knights, guards and marksmen, observing how different were states of their corruption. He noticed how crystals pierced their armour, making it part of them. Some of them wore helmets overgrown by it, so he wondered how they could even see anything. A few shadows he eliminated had arms completely covered in lyrium which made them much more dangerous than the others, raw lyrium being extremely harmful in any state, but at the same time filling their existence with agony: contact that close made them lose their humanity faster and degraded their physical and mental state.

Once on the Emerald Graves, Inquisitor, accompanied by his loyal followers, met a Behemoth. An enormous lump of red lyrium barely provoked the thought that it used to be a person – not a single part of its body remained intact, everything was completely covered with crystals. The air around it was pulsating with heat, and the red glow it emitted blinded them. The fight was long and tedious – Blackwall was severely injured after receiving a massive blow in his leg and Dorian exhausted all his magic forces and couldn’t continue without a dose of lyrium to boost them. When the existence of the monstrosity was finally ended by Inquisitor’s ice spell, they managed to catch a glimpse of a silhouette resembling that of a human being inside the Behemoth before it collapsed to the ground. The atmosphere became heavy, as they were crudely reminded that the creatures they were forced to fight used to be people at some point. Some of them, perhaps, didn’t choose this fate and would rather continue living their ordinary lives.

While his companions stood gloomy and silent, mulling over what happened to the world they once knew, Lavellan approached a pile of dust left of the Behemoth. He couldn’t lose such an opportunity to study it because it was the first specimen that was so corrupt that it wasn’t able to say a single word and could only scream and produce inarticulate sounds. Lately Inquisitor became almost obsessed with researching how lyrium developed in the bodies of templars, so all he could think about was finding out how it influenced human organism and seeing if it could be prevented somehow. He approached the pile and was extremely disappointed to see that there was almost nothing left in it. Being in some kind of frenzy, with his bare hand he grabbed a small lyrium crystal – the only visible part of the templar that hadn’t disintegrated yet. A few moments passed before Varric noticed what Lavellan was doing and hurried to him to drag him away from the pile and throw away the crystal. Inquisitor’s hand and fingers were already influenced by the mineral and a few deep burns were left on the skin.

All the way back to Skyhold Lavellan listened to Dorian lecturing him about how irresponsible he was. Blackwall silently frowned and lagged behind, holding on to the handle of his sword hanging in a scabbard on his side. Varric occasionally sighed and said that he agreed with Dorian. Inquisitor’s hand throbbed with pain but he did not really care. The only thing that bothered him was the fact that he didn’t make any progress in researching the influence of lyrium.  

He stopped visiting the prison at Skyhold. He was afraid to descend there and see something more terrifying that he had already seen. He wanted to send somebody down to check on Cullen occasionally, and Leliana agreed to come herself, not wanting anybody else to become the witness of what happened to the Commander of the grand Inquisition. She feared they would lose their influence and authority if the details about Cullen’s corruption became public; the Inquisitor feared he would lose any hope left after seeing his friend one more time.

After one of the visits, Leliana reported that Cullen’s left arm is covered with red lyrium crystals up to his elbow already. Apart from that, she added that he also refused to talk to her. He didn’t even acknowledge her presence.

 (06) “So… how are you doing here, Cole?” asked the Inquisitor his ghostly companion one gloomy evening. He couldn’t forget what Cullen said about him not caring about his friends. He was troubled to learn they were down, but recently just didn’t have the time to address that.

“This place is not a home. Too dark. Everybody’s hurt.” The spirit lowered his head, hiding his eyes behind the brim of his hat.

“Are you hurt too?” carefully inquired Lavellan.

“I don’t know. They are. I absorb the pain, it stings like bees, but stronger. But it brings relief to the others.”

“You don’t have to help them if it is hard for you. It’s impossible to help everybody. I don’t want you to feel pain because of that, Cole,” said Inquisitor, concerned about the spirit. He knew that comforting others was the actual reason his friend existed, but didn’t want to tolerate such state of affairs nonetheless.

“I came here to help. Pain is temporary, death is not. I take the pain and put up with it for a short while, and they are free and calm. Better than listening to their screams.”

“I see…”

It was always difficult to communicate with Cole. He was there but also in hundreds other places at the same time. He responded to questions, but was talking about something only he saw and understood. He looked like a young boy, so everybody perceived him as such, but, in reality, he knew much more than any other person in the castle. He knew about misfortunes of every soldier in the Inquisition, about their worries and fears, but nobody really knew anything about him. Inquisitor was sorry that he didn’t take enough time and make enough effort to get to know this sad entity better.

“You are the only one I can’t help. I see your pain, it’s red and dense and floats like a haze. You are surrounded by people, but they are not there. You’re alone and lost in the fog and you suffocate. I want to help.”

Lavellan moved the hat from Cole’s eyes to see his face. Usually there was no expression on it, but it was important to see his eyes to establish at least some kind of contact.

“I know, Cole. I know. But it’s my burden, and I will carry it. Others here are also miserable, so just do what you can for them. Whatever you feel right.”

“I tried to take away your fear.” Cole looked Lavellan directly in the eyes. “I come when you sleep, I watch, try to lead the demons away. They are strong, bloody, proud, drag heads of their victims as trophies. You don’t let them in, yet the fear stays. You need to rest, but not sleep. Watch yourself.”

Cole suddenly disappeared as he sometimes did. Lavellan remembered him standing beside him a second ago, but now he wasn’t there anymore. Some of Inquisition’s soldiers and commanders were against Cole’s stay in Skyhold, but the Inquisitor remained unshaken in his decision. He saw what the boy did to help those who were in need, and it was more than he himself could have ever done. The spirit didn’t disappear out of a sheer wish, somebody needed him. He always answered the call.

 (07) Lavellan was lying on the side of his bed, twisted and rolled up in a blanket. The bedsheet around him was crumpled and wet from sweat. He was in fever, as if instead of frosty mountains outside of Skyhold only sand dunes enveloped him with unbearable heat. He was delirious and mumbling something to himself. Before his eyes was the same prison cell he chose not to visit anymore. Crystals grew from every wall, from the ceiling and stone floor. They seemed to be alive, breathing and singing the song. Parts of mutilated human, elven, and dwarven bodies were stuck in the lyrium, feeding it with last drops of blood left in them, making its red colour more prominent and vivid. Inquisitor saw familiar faces captured eternally inside the crystals, lifeless, pale, and distorted. He gripped his staff tightly, ready to fight whoever would come to face him. His injured fingers hurt but he tried not to focus on the pain.

“I hoped to see you once again,” said the voice he knew all too well. He turned around and saw Cullen sitting on the floor with his back leaning on the wall. He wasn’t chained. “I was so upset you stopped visiting,” he continued.

“I couldn’t…” started Lavellan, but Cullen did not want to listen.

“I know what had really happened. You thought I was a burden and you had no wish to continue coddling me. But who will take the responsibility, Inquisitor Lavellan?”

“You should ask your new master about that!” yelled Lavellan angrily. He didn’t really know how much responsibility laid on him for all what had happened, but now he didn’t want to admit anything at all. Not before Cullen.

“He is doing what he must, and you are making things more complicated. Do you really believe you are a hero? A Herald of Andraste? You’re just a thief!”—Cullen spat on the floor in front of him—“All you know is stealing and deceiving. Who gave you the right to decide what’s right and what’s wrong? Why do you think it was better for me before I changed? Tell me, I want to know.”

“I’ve seen what this “transformation” does to the others. They become inhumane, forget their language, families, friends. They live in constant pain and their life is deprived of meaning. You don’t need to be the Herald to understand that.”

“I am different. They are unworthy, nobody cares about them. Do you know the names of all your soldiers, Inquisitor? Do you mourn the death of every one of them? Then why do you worry about those templars so much? They have their own fate and will be rewarded for their diligence. Unlike all those people stuck in here with me,” said Cullen and smiled, waving his already corrupt hand in the direction of ghastly faces behind the glass surface of red crystals on the walls.

“Are you now tormenting people who worked with you and admired you?” Lavellan felt dizzy. He used his staff to help himself stand straight, but his energy was being drained by the red lyrium filling the room. “What kind of commander are you?”

“An improved one. You should’ve noticed how insecure I used to be. Afraid that people would judge me for what I say or do, afraid to confess to you about my decision to stop taking lyrium. Wasn’t it hilarious? Perhaps, you kept me close because I amused you.”

“No, I didn’t. You were one of the best people I have ever known. It’s a shame you turned into this.”

The mark on Inquisitor’s hand started glowing and he felt as if he would lose consciousness soon. His vision got blurry, making it difficult to concentrate on the templar.

“Oh, I know what you feel now…” Cullen laughed repulsively. “Fear, regret, disbelief, disappointment… A little bit of sorrow maybe? Don’t try to lie to me.” He stood up. No shackles held him, now he was free to do whatever he wanted. “Are you ready to face the truth?”

Lavellan squeezed his eyes shut and tried to escape the nightmare. He knew this couldn’t be real.

He opened his eyes and found himself lying on the bed in his quarters. Cole was sitting beside him, silently saying his mantra. He stopped when noticed that Inquisitor was already awake.

“I heard your scream. Nobody here screams that loudly, only whimpers. It was almost too late. The haze swallowed you, I didn’t see, couldn’t find. I am glad you believed me.”

“The thought that it’s just a dream… Did it come from you?” Lavellan removed the blanket and sat on the bed.

“Yes. I wanted to destroy the fear and regret, but could only take you out of the nightmare. You shouldn’t be left alone.”

“Thank you, Cole… Could you stay with me?”

“That is what I implied.”

Lavellan didn’t feel like closing his eyes again.

 (08) “This is impossible! We do not have time and resources to do it!” said Cassandra. Her voice sounded as agitated and decisive as always.

“I need it! I’m not asking you to bring me Coryphaeus himself, just a few red templars.”

“You have lost your mind! How can we capture them alive if even touching them may be lethal? It’s too dangerous. You know that they never surrender.”

“It can change everything. The lyrium in dead templars is most likely also dead, there is no use of it, but if we bring them here alive… I will be able to study it, I’ll examine how it responds to different treatments and…”

“They already suffer! Even if they look like monsters, they are under the influence of it. You want to torture them even more, doesn’t it bother you?”

“What bothers me is the absence of any results in my studies, Cassandra. I need at least a tiny bit of useful information.”

Inquisitor was uncompromising, but Cassandra did not want to agree to his proposal. After all, the Inquisition was still part of the Chantry and they simply couldn’t capture templars and experiment on them. She was one of the people who started the Inquisition and didn’t want to see it come crashing down.

She sighed.

“We will make a decision at the council meeting.”

“Then tell everybody to gather.”

As one of the advisors, Cassandra made it clear that she didn’t support this endeavour of the Inquisitor. Leliana, being more practical and open-minded, decided that they should take the risk in case there was at least one possibility to gain some intel in the process. Even if they didn’t learn how to cure the corruption, they would probably discover the templars’ weak spots. Josephine was inclined to support Cassandra out of her morals, but seeing Lavellan in such despair made her budge.

Two people were in favour, so they started the operation.

Cassandra feared that soon they would not be able to keep Inquisitor in line. He was becoming more and more radical in his methods and didn’t share his thoughts with them anymore. He was grim, slept only three hours a day and most of his time spent in the libraries or on the battlefields. From the latter he would often come injured without even noticing it, as if he couldn’t feel it or didn’t care enough to notice. Their cause was still a priority to him, but determination and hope vanished from his eyes. They became dull and cold.

When first templars were delivered to the castle, he locked himself in the forge with them and didn’t come out for a few hours. Nobody was allowed to enter. There were no screams, but the silence made it seem even worse. Everybody was on the edge, not knowing what to expect. It happened a few more times, but the Inquisitor never shared anything about what he did or what results his experiments showed. As time passed, he became even more withdrawn and solitary. Solas tried talking to Lavellan about the Commander and what his inertness did to him, but with no success. Inquisitor was deaf to all inquiries.

 When the blizzard settled down and the sun managed to send a few rays through thick clouds, one of the Inquisition’s soldiers knocked on the door to Lavellan’s quarters.

“Come in,” said Inquisitor, not bothered to look away from the book he was reading.

“My lord, Sister Leliana went on her usual check and he wasn’t there…” The soldier started stammering as Lavellan abruptly pierced his gaze into him. “He escaped,” mumbled the soldier.

Inquisitor knew it would end like this. He awaited it and feared.

[wrens-aviary]

Trust Me Chapter 2

Hello. Welcome to chapter 2. I hate making websites with html. School is not fun idk why I do this to myself. Sorry that’s unrelated. Here is the next chapter. I am making this like the same time as the movie.

Playlist for chapter 2: https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PL_WXTMoBYYTO0edlpRY4Gr_EeEvnQ-RzS

I open my eyes and stare at the wood ceiling above me drenched in darkness. I’m not sure if I was really asleep or if my eyes were simply closed as my mind wandered. I am not home, but is there really a place for me to call home? Maybe this is the closest I have. The Couffaines seem nice, and Anarka knew my mom. They were friends. Mom. As I think of her my hand reaches to the chain around my neck. This ring is all I have of her. I’ll never take it off.

As I shift in the bed I feel quite... stale is the best word to describe it. I’ve been wearing the same clothes for two days. I didn’t have time to change after going to the hospital and after the plane ride and nap I just took I feel gross. I stand up and move toward the door unsure of the time. I quietly slide my door open and move toward the main deck needing to feel a little less caged.

I breath in deep. The air outside is cool and crisp. It must be late in the night as I can see the stars so clearly. Staring up into the sky I hear the soft strumming of a guitar. I move back toward the stairs and climb past the control deck to the upper deck. Luka is sitting in a chair on the other side of a ping pong (table tennis) table holding a guitar. He looks so peaceful. The music he plays sounds melancholic. It’s beautiful, just like him. What? nope? I didn’t just think that? 

“Did you sleep alright?” He asks without looking away from the water or stopping what he’s playing.

“Not sure,” I respond as I walk to the railing and lean over looking out at the water. The way it reflects the stars is mesmerizing. “Why is it so sad?” I question the tune he’s playing.

“I wouldn’t say its all sad.”

I look back at him and our eyes meet. He smiles softly as my expression remains still. After a moment I turn to look back at the water.

“There’s a girl,” he starts, “she is a friend of my sister, and I like her, but she’s in love with someone else and even if she doesn’t realize it yet I already know that she can’t let him go.”

“And she knows how you feel?”

“Yeah. She’s known for a while. She’s been saying recently she want’s to move on, but I know she’s not ready. I told her to think about things while she’s on her class trip in New York, and I’m afraid that when they get back tomorrow she’s going to tell me what I already know.”

I feel sorry for Luka but it sounds like its best for her to admit things now than string him along only to admit later that she can’t love him the way she loves this other boy. “I hope that she can be as honest about her feelings with you as you were with her. No matter what happens it would be best to make future decisions based on the truth. Even if she can’t let go now she may still want to try and move on with you, and at that point it becomes your decision although...” I pause questioning if I should share my own thoughts or if he’d rather not be swayed in this decision... “I would never want to waste my time loving someone who may never love me back,” I whisper the end, but I am sure he still heard me.

I turn away from the water and move toward the stairs and Luka, “You all wouldn’t happen to have a shower on this boat?” I question lightly hoping to ease the tension in the air.

“Yeah,” he smiles as he moves his guitar and stands from his chair. He’s taller than me. As I look up at him I can’t stop myself from thinking how pretty his eyes are. And in this moment... my stomach growls... yeah... it sounds like a whole ass whale just fucking signaled that I haven’t eaten in over 24 hours. As I look down in embarrassment hoping that my face isn’t completely red I hear him giggle softly. Holy shit. He just giggled and I think it was the cutest thing I’ve ever heard in my life.

“Sorry, I was so nervous on the plane I couldn’t bring myself to eat anything so I’m a little hungry,” I explain smiling at him shyly. Honestly if that giggle hadn’t given me the strength to persevere I probably would have just curled up into a ball on the deck and died right there.

“How about I show you were the bathroom is and heat up some food while you  shower?” Wow he’s so thoughtful and amazing... AND IN LOVE WITH SOMEONE ELSE GET A GRIP GIRL HE LITERALLY JUST TOLD YOU HE LIKES HIS SISTER’S FRIEND!

“Yeah, that would be really nice. Thank you so much Luka, but you really don’t need to make anything. If you show me where the kitchen is I can make something for myself after I shower. I wouldn’t want you to have to cook just for me.”

“I was kind of hungry anyways so it’s fine. How do feel about spaghetti?”

“Perfect,” I say smiling at him.

“Great!” He begins to move down towards the lower deck and I follow. We pass by a kitchen that I hadn’t noticed before and move back towards the rooms. Just past the rooms Luka slides open a door and turns on a light. It’s a small, but nice looking bathroom. I’m rather surprised how little clutter there is in the bathroom given the state of the rest of the boat. “There are clean towels under the sink and we all use the same shampoo and bodywash, you can use a small wash rag from under the sink for now and we’ll get you your own loofah tomorrow. There should be an unopened toothbrush in the cabinet above the sink as well. I’ll be in the kitchen whenever you finish.”

-in the shower-

As I wash up I can’t help but admire the soap the Couffaine’s use. Luka must always smell really nice. That may be the creepiest thing I’ve ever thought about another person ohmygod please I need to stop. I am only thinking these things because I’m trying to distract myself from the shit show that is my life in this moment. Yeah. That’s it. It’s not like I could actually like this guy. I barely know him he’s just being nice and I’m feeling lonely that’s it.

As soon as I step out of the shower and begin to dry off I realize I didn’t grab any clean clothes from my room.

“Crap,” not even a second later I hear a soft nock at the bathroom door. “Hello?”

“Hey y/n, I realized after I started cooking you may not have anything to change into so I grabbed one of my tee-shirts and some sweatpants for you if you want them.” 

Ohmygod is he a saint? wtf this boy is not even real I swear.

“Yeah, I’ll take you up on that,” I respond as I wrap my towel around me and slide the door open half way hiding most of my body behind it and leaning a bit to see Luka holding a small pile of neatly folded clothing... is he... blushing??? Wow that’s fucking adorable.

“Thank you Luka,” I say as I reach out to accept the clothing he’s offered to me. As he gives them to me our hands touch and I swear my entire being got a whole two degree’s warmer.

“I’ll go wait in the kitchen. The pasta’s done so I’ll just split it into two bowls.”

“Yeah I’ll be there in a minute. Thanks again Luka, for the clothes and for cooking, and everything else really. You’ve treated me really well since I got here. It means a lot to me,” I say as I look to the side of the doorway unable to keep eye contact with the boy. As I slowly look back to him I see him smiling at me. He really does have a sweet smile. “Anyways, I’m gonna change now,” I say as I realize that I’m standing before Luka still wrapped in a towel.

“Yeah, I’ll see you in the kitchen,” he says as he turns around and I slide the door shut. Is my heart beating fast? I don’t know anymore. As I begin to pull on the clothes he handed me I feel much more comfortable. The tee-shirt is black, soft, and just a little baggy on me, and the sweatpants are the same. 

After towel drying my hair a bit I hang up the towel to dry and exit the bathroom turning the light off as I go. I walk toward the kitchen and find Luka sitting at a kitchen island with a bowl of spaghetti sitting before him. He seems to be writing in some sort of notebook as he waits.

“Hey,” I say as I slide onto the barstool next to him and look at the bowl in front of me. There’s still a bit of steam coming off of it.

“Hey, I hope the clothes aren’t too big,” he responds as he sits the notebook down on the counter. I only saw a bit of the inside, but it looked to be staff paper. He must compose a lot of music he was working in the back of the notebook.

As I look up from the notebook I meet his gaze and realize I hadn’t responded yet, “Oh yeah they’re great actually. I always prefer loungewear to be a bit big on me.” He nods in response and we both begin eating. It’s a comfortable quite as we sit there eating together. 

Before I know it I’ve finished my bowl and I feel quite full. I look up to see that Luka has also finished eating. He’s smiling at me.

“Thank you. It was really good,” I smile back at him.

“No problem. I’m usually hungry so if you ever want to eat with some company just text me.”

“Oh... I don’t have a phone,” I respond and he looks a tiny bit surprised. “My father didn’t like my mother and I having access to people other than him.” At my explanation Luka furrows his brows. He looks concerned. “He’s not a very good man. That’s why I’m here. My mother is dying, and if I stayed there he would have controlled me the same way he did her so she sent me away.” I reach up to stroke the ring on my necklace as I speak. “Apparently our mother’s were friends when they were younger. They were even in a band together.” I smile as I imagine how happy and free my mother must have felt back then.

I sigh as I lean back in my chair and place my hands down on the counter in front of me. Luka slowly moves his own hand over mine and holds it. We look at each other and as he smiles at me and squeezes my hand lightly he speaks, “I’m glad you’re here y/n, and I promise I’m going to do everything I can to make sure you’re happy here.”

“Thank you Luka.” I don’t know who this other guy that his crush likes is, but he must be a superhero or something because I don’t think any normal person could outshine Luka Couffaine.

After helping Luka clean up we head back toward our rooms.

“How about I take you out tomorrow to get anything you need?” Luka offers.

“I’d like that. Thank you Luka... I’ll see you tomorrow. Goodnight.” I say before sliding open my door and slipping into my room. Just before I close it I hear him respond with a soft goodnight.

As I lay in my bed and drift off to sleep I find myself thinking of the soft sad tune that Luka was playing earlier on the upper deck. It was beautiful, but I hope that it will change. Luka deserves to be happy and I want to hear him play a song that is warm and hopeful because that is how he makes me feel.

[calpalirwin]

Adrenaline

Summary: Ashton didn’t know it was possible for someone to breathe new life into the broken parts of him he long believed were dead and buried. He didn’t know you were possible.

A/N: Hitting a wall again with my WIPs, so time to find inspiration elsewhere for other ideas. This beauty courtesy of Tyler Rich’s new album, and specifically the song Adrenaline (hence the title and main storyline) and a smidge of Still Love You.

Word Count: 2.1k

And away, and away we go!

__

I was faintly aware of the sound of my front door opening and the sound of feet running up the stairs. But much like the call of “Ash,” that accompanied Calum barging into my bedroom, it was all muddled like I was submerged under water. And given constantly feeling like I was drowning, I supposed that made sense in some fucked up poetic way.

More barely registered movement: curtains pushed open, and a frustrated “Jesus, mate…” as sunlight hit my square on my face. 

“Fuck!” I hissed, screwing my eyes shut, but still seeing splotches of light behind my eyelids as I rolled over, burying my head in my pillow. “Are you tryin’ to make me blind?!”

“No, I’m tryin’ to figure out where the fuck my friend is. You haven’t seen him, have you?”

“Oh, piss off!” I grumbled. “It’s been like 3 days, fuckin’ relax…”

“3 days? Try 3 months.”

“Months?” I rolled back over, squinting over at Calum, the sun still far too fucking bright. “Can you put a dimmer on that, or something?”

“A dimmer switch on the sun? Really?” was the scoff before the lamp on my nightstand flicked on and he shut the blinds. “Is that better, Your Highness?”

“Fuck you…” I groaned, hoisting myself to lean against the headboard. “Months?”

“Yeah. We’ve been taking turns checking in on you.”

“And you chose this particular time to piss me off? To what do I owe the occasion?”

“Am I pissing you off, or are you pissing yourself off? Have you seen the state of this place recently? Or the bottom of all these bottles making everything a lil blurry?”

I held up 2 fingers, a dull ache starting to spread across my head. “Things are going… mmm… swimmingly.” I did my best to flash him a smile, but all it did was somehow worsen the pain beating on the inside of my skull. “Mmm good mate… Honestly.”

Calum rolled his eyes, not convinced of my Oscar-worthy performance. “Look, we’ve been trying to let this shit run its course. Waiting for you to bounce back on your own. But, call me impatient. You got 5 seconds to start dragging your rank ass towards that shower before I carry you there myself.”

“Impatient,” I teased, swinging my legs over the edge of my bed. I braced my hands on either side of me before pushing off.

The floor of my room came rushing towards me, before someone caught me. “Fuckin’ hell, Ash!” Calum swore. 

Cold water hit my face, making me gasp in shock, recoiling away from the stream. “My clothes…” I mumbled, my hands pulling my tank top away from my chest with a wet suction.

“Are fine,” Calum told me.

“Sss cold,” I shivered, my teeth clacking together. 

“Good. It’ll sober you up. Don’t forget to scrub behind your ears!”

The more that water rained down on my face, the more the ringing in my ears subsided. I peeled off my tank top, the soaked fabric slapping against the floor of the tub, followed quickly by my boxers. I nudged them out of the way with my toe before adjusting the water temperature to something a little less bone-chilling.

The grime and filth washed down the drain with my shampoo and soap, my body returning to its normal smell, rather than the dusty brewery it had become.

With a towel wrapped tightly around my waist, I exited the bathroom in search of clean clothes, feeling like my body had come up to the surface but my ears were still fully submerged. The jury was still out on which was more preferable: drowning or floating.

My bed had been stripped, and Calum was throwing empty bottles of liquor in a trash bag. “Jesus... I was gone that long?” I asked, worry starting to churn my stomach into knots.

Calum stilled at my voice, straightening up and turning to look at me, a sad look on his face. “Yeah. What the hell happened, Ash? She cheated, and then lied to you about it. If anyone should be torn up about this, it’s her. If anyone deserves the 3 month long bender, it’s her.”

I let out a huff of air, rifling through the fog for the memory. “We had 2 years before that started happening though,” I defended. “2 good years. And then…” I mimed a bomb going off.

“Boom…” Calum said sullenly.

“Boom,” I agreed, one of my hands going to ruffle through the hair on the back of my head. “Just having a hard time separating the good from the bad, I guess. Didn’t mean to be gone so long.”

“S’alright,” he answered, before waving what appeared to be the last of the bottles in his hand at me. “You got anymore in the house? Full or otherwise?”

I shrugged. “I’ll help you look, and clean up.”

He held up a hand, stopping me as I stepped to leave the room to search the rest of the house. “Get dressed first. I mean, yeah, it’s your house, and I’ve seen your junk plenty of times, but I’d rather not.”

I blushed, gripping the edge of the towel still wrapped around my waist, ducking quickly into my closet. “Thanks, Cal.”

“Anytime, mate.”

“Nah,” I said, stepping into a pair of boxers and then jeans. “I mean…” I grabbed one of my shirts from a hanger, thrusting my arms through the sleeves, fingers fumbling to do up the buttons. 

“Yeah, I know what you mean,” Calum cut me off, not waiting for me to find the right words to address my gratitude. “And I meant what I said back. Now c’mon, help me clean up your mess. Or start dishing out the cash for a maid. God knows you’re loaded.”

~~~

“Shit, my bad,” I apologized as a body jostled into mine.

“Ash?” the person asked in surprise.

My entire body froze. “Hey, Lex…” I said, looking down at my ex-girlfriend.

“Hey… How’re things going?”

“They’re going,” I chuckled dryly, my ears roaring, my head sinking deeper and deeper.

She flashed a smile. “That’s good. It’s… uh, nice running into you. I miss you.”

I rolled my eyes, shaking my head. “Yeah right.”

“I mean it,” Lexie insisted. “C’mon… we were good together, weren’t we? Don’t you miss me back? Even a little?”

“I-” I started but a hand found my shoulder.

“Was just getting ready to leave. Right, Ash?” Calum urged, jerking his head in the direction of the exit.

“Uh… yeah. Yeah, we were just leaving…”

“Oh… Well, it was nice to see you again, Ash. Cal…”

“Lex,” Calum nodded curtly at her, his voice hard as stone.

I glanced over my shoulder at Lexie as I followed Calum out. She gave a wiggle of her fingers in a goodbye, before dancing up close with some other guy, his hands roaming her body possessively. I clenched my fists.

“Not worth it,” Calum warned low.

“How can I still feel anything akin to love to a girl I don’t even like?” I wondered aloud as we started walking the streets. “It makes no fuckin’ sense. She lied to me. Letting go should be easy.”

“And that’s exactly why I don’t bother with dating,” Calum told me, lighting a cigarette.

“Maybe you should. People are starting to talk about why you aren’t miserable like the rest of us.”

“Ask me if I give a fuck,” he scoffed.

I laughed with him. “I’m serious, Cal. Pretty sure you could come out tomorrow saying any goddamn thing you want. You’re gay. You have a secret family. Anything. And everyone would be like ‘yeah, that checks out.’ Even me, and the rest of the guys.”

“Gay and I have a secret family,” Calum continued with the joke. “There’s power in being mysterious, Ash. I’m telling ya. It’s great. You should try it sometime.”

“Yeah, maybe…” I leaned down to grab a rock off the sidewalk, chucking it at the side of a building. It ricocheted off before clattering to the ground.

“Oh, we’re throwing rocks now?” Calum asked in amusement.

I shrugged. “I dunno. Felt good, though.” I picked up another pebble, cocking my arm back to toss it, throwing it harder than I meant to when I caught sight of the street signs indicating where we were. It clanged loudly off a dumpster, the roar in my ears growing.

“Jesus, dude,” Calum winced.

I braced my hands on my knees, doubling over and breathing hard, breaking into a cold sweat like I’d just run a marathon. Mentally speaking, I supposed I had.

“Ash? Ashton!” Calum shook me.

“What? Sorry…” I shook my head to clear it.

“You alright?”

“Nope.” I popped the “p” and threw another rock. “I can’t get her out of my head. She’s everywhere. All the time! Even here!” I pointed angrily up at the street signs, wanting to throw my fist into the dumpster but I settled for throwing another rock, the ringing matching the sound that blared in my head.

“I don’t know who the fuck ‘she’ is, but you wanna not take out your feelings for her on my dumpster?” someone demanded.

I whirled to find a woman propped against a service door, hands on her hips, hair pulled back in a ponytail, and a green work apron covering up a black polo tucked into black slacks.

“Sorry,” Calum apologized. “We’ll uh… I’ll take my friend somewhere else.”

“Yeah, you do that.” She rolled her eyes dramatically. “Maybe try the beach.”

“You offering to come with?” I asked.

Her laugh was both harsh and light. “Go with your friend, drunk boy.”

“Not a boy for 1. Stone cold sober for 2.”

“Funny. I don’t remember asking. Or giving a shit.”

“Geez… who hurt you?” I laughed, beginning to enjoy her fuck-all attitude.

“Could ask you the same thing,” she countered.

“Doesn’t matter.”

“Yeah, tell that to my dumpster.”

I walked over to pat the green metal container. “Doesn’t matter,” I crooned to it dramatically before flashing her a grin.

The corners of her lips quivered upwards in a reluctant smile, while Calum sighed loudly, grabbing at my arm. “Stop bothering her with your bullshit, mate. She ain’t biting.”

“She’s smiling, so I’m halfway there. If you think I’m funny now, you should see me when I’m not throwing rocks at a dumpster.”

“Well, here…” she reached into the pocket of her apron, pulling out a napkin and a Sharpie. She turned to use the door as a flat surface to scrawl her number across the napkin on. “Call me when you’re sober, and we’ll see how funny you are then.”

“Oh, c’mon!” Calum groaned.

She paused, the napkin inches from my fingers, looking over at Calum. “Should I not?”

“What do I look like, his babysitter?”

She laughed. “No. But you are his friend. Or so I assume. He usually like this?”

“Sometimes yeah,” Calum admittedly truthfully. “Good sort though.”

Her smile was dangerous and devastating as she handed me the napkin. “This really your number, or are you just fucking with me?”

“Call it, and find out.”

I pulled out my phone, dialing the number and hitting the call button. A phone started buzzing inside her apron pocket. “I wonder who that could be,” she wondered in faux-innocence, answering it. “Hello?” she asked, sweetly, her greeting reverberating out of the speaker of my phone.

“I’m sober.”

~~~

“That’s rough,” she commented softly as we watched the waves crash and break along the shoreline, the sky starting to pinken along the horizon.

I shrugged, my hand finding hers in the sand. “I’m sure I’ll find the reason why it didn’t work out one of these days. Maybe it’s right under my nose.”

“Maybe,” she agreed, tilting her head up towards the sky and taking a deep inhale. “You ever think we’re meant to meet certain people?”

“Like those people you meet and feel instantly connected to?”

“Yeah. Almost like soulmates. Like across all the different lifetimes there are, and all the different possibilities, you’ll always find each other.”

“Yeah. Do you?”

“Sure would explain why I’ve been sitting here all night with someone I barely know,” she laughed softly.

“Ah, c’mon,” I teased. “You know me. We’ve been talking all night.”

“But do you know me?” she challenged.

“I’d like to.” I swallowed and glanced down at her. “Is it too forward if I kiss you right now, or should I wait until we watch tomorrow’s sunrise?”

“Kiss me, and find out.”

When my lips collided with hers, the only roaring was that of the ocean.

__

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[candychronicles]

let me take care of you // a. tamaki

A/N: My trade fic for the absolutely talented @voidsorceress​ ! Thank you so much for being amazing and being patient!

CHARACTER PAIRING: Tamaki Amajiki x Reader

WORD COUNT: 1,782

WARNINGS: soft, sweet smut, mentions of feeling worthless 

SYNOPSIS: After a failed solo mission, you were feeling less than worthy, adopting your boyfriends pessimistic outlook on life. Tamaki was more than determined to change your feelings, however. 

TAGS: @katsukisprincess​

heavy breaths were the only thing that could be heard as the group of pro-heros, big and small, fanned out, surrounding the building and successfully completing the mission, a mission that was supposed to be yours and yours alone. you could feel disappointment bubbling up in your chest, threatening to choke you, but you held your head high anyways, doing what was necessary to put on a brave face and continue to work.

things hadn’t gone as expected, there were just too many villains to canvas, too many people to keep track of, and when you were almost caught, you realized that the mission wouldn’t be successful without the cooperation of others, and so, with a heavy heart, you called for reinforcements.

the mission was supposed to be your big debut, your first job that could really help you showcase what you were made of, but the overall success of the mission came first. people had reassured you multiple times that you did the right thing, that everything went smoothly, that no one could’ve anticipated so many extra people there, that the mission you were given wasn’t what was presented to you and so that you truly didn’t fail, but none of that mattered. all that you saw, all that you felt, was someone who didn’t deserve to be a pro hero.

you managed to trudge yourself up the stairs into the shared condo of you and your boyfriend, pro-hero Suneater aka Tamaki Amajiki. if you were to think about a truly strong and admirable pro, you would see Tamaki’s face, brighter and bigger than the sun itself. despite all of his confidence issues, despite his pessimistic outlook on life and his general anxiety in social situations, he overcame it all to become truly strong, someone who wouldn’t have failed a mission as simple as that. 

Tamaki instantly noticed something was wrong when he looked at your crestfallen face. usually, he was the one coming home, defeated and distraught, and you were the one to make him smile and feel better, running your fingers through his hair and whispering soft words of encouragement. he had no idea what to do in this situation. sure, you’ve been sad before, but not like this, not looking like there was nothing anybody could do to make you feel better. 

“bunny?” he questioned softly, putting his book down and standing up from the table. “are you o-okay?”

“i’m fine tama, i’m just going to shower and go to sleep,” you monotonically replied, looking right through him, mechanically turning your body away from his worried gaze and heading into the bedroom. 

Tamaki was never one to push, never one to pry into other people’s lives, especially knowing he had his own issues he needed to work on, but you were different. you were someone he wanted to help and make feel better, he craved your smile, your praise, your love. that’s why he couldn’t simply accept your answer, couldn’t let you go to bed with a frown on your pretty little lips.

“let me join you.”

you turned your head to look at him, the first real amount of emotion gracing your face all night: relief. 

“sure, thank you,” you agreed softly, stopping in your tracks and waiting for him to join you.

he hurried to your side, wrapping an arm around your waist and guiding you towards the bathroom. he made you sit on the toilet as he turned on the water, waiting for the perfect temperature. you could see it on his face, the nervousness of being so intimate with someone and on his own request, too, had him nearly shaking, but what you couldn’t understand was that he was nervous more so because he wanted to make sure he made you as happy as possible and didn’t want to fail you there.

clothes gently fell to the floor with a soft thud, eyes never leaving your face except when your shirts were over your heads. he led you gently into the shower, peppering soft kisses all over your face, blush furious and determination strong. suds of soap covered your body, shampoo thick in your hair, the feeling of Tamaki’s fingers working all of it in with gentle fingers hotter than the temperature of the shower. you had attempted to reciprocate, to help him in some way, but he wordlessly pushed your fussy hands down, assuring you over and over again that he was here for you.

you had begun crying sometime during that process, the frustrations of the day truly getting to you, and Tamaki had kissed every bit of sadness away until you were breathless and whiny for another reason all together: lust. you were not sure where this confidence, where this need for you came from, but you were not going to complain in the slightest.

things moved quickly, both wanting to get out of the shower. you sort of dried yourselves off, clothes kicked to the side, door slammed violently open, lips never leaving each other, whines and moans the only thing that could be heard in the otherwise quiet room.

“my love, please, let me take care of you tonight,” he pleaded, pushing you down to the bed, eyes locked onto your own, desire swirling behind his irises. 

you could only nod back, too entranced by the way your boyfriend slowly sunk down on his knees, lips finding purchase between your plush things.

“so, so beautiful,” he murmured, leaving hot, open mouthed kisses up and down your legs, never quite latching onto the one area you were so desperate for him to touch.

“Amajiki, please.”

he instantly complied, making his way back to your slick folds, taking his time to truly admire you.

“you’re so perfect.”

without warning, his mouth clasped onto your swollen and aching bud, moaning at the feeling of you in his mouth. long, slender fingers found their way to your aching hole, pushing one in, then another, moaning yet again as he felt you clench so heavily around his digits. he began alternating between sucking and licking, slowly pumping and curling his fingers in and out of you, doing everything he could to make you feel good. your first orgasm of the night had your toes curling and hands pulling roughly on his hair, but you could tell by the way he lapped up every inch of your throbbing pussy that he was nowhere near done with you, not yet.

you tried yet again to take care of him that night, reaching forward to grasp his cock in your hand, feeling satisfied as he involuntarily bucked his hips, but he removed the hand after a moment, reiterating that he wanted to take care of you, and to please just relax.

he started at your toes, grabbing one and then the other in his hands, kissing and praising your body, moving his way back up your legs, ghosting over your dripping cunt and making his way to your navel.

“you’re so beautiful. i can’t believe you’re mine, i can’t believe that i’ll ever even deserve this, but i want you to know i will spend the rest of my life worshipping you if you’ll have me, because you deserve nothing less,” he murmured into your skin, licking and sucking, leaving light hickies all over your hips and stomach. 

his ministrations continued, moving up to your perky nipples, flicking and pinching one with his right hand and sucking on the left, leaving more hickies again, whispering sweet nothings and praises. his mouth moved yet again, over your collarbones, to your neck, where he bit down on the soft flesh, licking and blowing a cool burst of air, sending shivers straight down your spine, and finally up to your face, peppering you once again with love.

“i love your nose, how it scrunches up when i kiss it. your forehead, and how i can feel you breathe a sigh of relief when i kiss you there. your cheeks, so rosy and sweet. your plump lips,” he paused, reaching down to press a searing kiss to prove his point, “are just so addicting. you’re so addicting. i can’t get enough of you, and i don’t think i ever will.”

“Amajiki…” you whispered, reaching out to cup one of his cheeks with your hand, feeling the burning heat and conviction on his face.

“i love you.”

“i love you too bunny. so damn much. please, let me take care of you.”

you nodded once again, feeling his lips attach to your own once again, feeling the way his breathing got deeper and heavier, how one of his hands reached down to pump himself a few times before lining himself at your entrance, eyes looking into your own, waiting for approval, which you gave with no hesitation.

he entered slowly, painfully so. you wiggled your hips to gain more friction, desperate for yet another release, but he was determined to take his time, make you feel every thrust, every circle of his finger on your clit, every kiss to your body, every praise whispered in your ear. and he was successful. you were a crying, panting mess, overwhelmed by the sheer feeling of Amajiki all over you. 

“you’re doing so good, love, so good, just hold on for me a little longer, please?”

you whined out in agreement, attempting to close your eyes, pleasure consuming your body, but Tamaki grabbed your chin and begged, pleaded for you to look at him. you could see on his face and in his own pupils how much he loved you, how desperate he was for you to understand and after a few more thrusts, the intensity of the situation was too much to bear and you came out with a cry, tears leaking out of your eyes, legs quivering from pure ecstacy.

“yes, bunny, cum for me, you’re so pretty when you cum.”

he watched your face, and as his own release was nearing, nuzzled his face into your neck, biting down softly, coming with his own cry. 

“you were so, so good love. i’m so proud of you. thank you,” he whispered into your neck, peppering kisses over the harsh bite mark he left.

“thank you, Amajiki, so much,” you choked out, too into your emotions to speak more than those words, hoping he understood how much this meant to you.

“i will always take care of you. you will never have to worry about a bad day ever again. i will always be here to comfort you and tell you how good you are, how proud i am of you, how much i love you. how i will love you, forever and always.”

[sinkix]

《What your fav Haikyuu!! Character says about you│Nekoma Edition》

Yo-hoo! Here’s another part to this potential(?) series! I hope you enjoy the possible call-outs in some of these lmao. Writers block been kicking my ass recently but I had a lot of fun writing these. Enjoy <3

You can find the Karasuno ver. here 

✧✧✧✧✧ ✧✧✧✧✧ ✧✧✧✧✧ ✧✧✧✧✧

Kuroo:

Have a hand fetish and will not say no to choking.

Daddy kink™

Will not accept anything below 6 inches.

More of a dog person but would love to own a black cat.

You drool over tattoos.

Your grades are mostly B’s but you know in your heart you deserve that A, and tbh you probably do. Chase ur goals bby.

Halloween is likely your favourite holiday.

You have to resist not to carve a dick into the pumpkin EvEry GodDAmN YeAr.

You either study for 6 hours consecutively or cannot study at all and you get very frustrated at this.

Have the potential to be a good leader and command the room but probably don’t put it to use as much as you should.

Your playlist parkours from sad 3am crying into your pillow songs to aggressive punk music you could rob a store to.

You like bad boys who hang around bars and look like they would put out a cigarette on your forearm and call you a slut. Just stating facts sweaty xoxo.

Either dress very feminine and girly with a ‘smol girl uwu’ aesthetic or a hardass punk who would kick your ass for a can of beer no in between and tbh both are equally hot.

You’re a big softie at heart either way and just want to be held and told everything will be okay.

Ur a hoe for when people stroke your hair or caress your chin it’s your ultimate weakness.

Watched Rick & Morty.

Twice.

Sleeves rolled up veiny forearms and donning a silver watch are your muse and something you fantasise about frequently.

Most of your memes are shitty top text bottom texts that are somehow funny and I don’t understand why lmao.

You call someone ‘bro’ even if it’s someone you’re immensely attracted to.

Did someone say ties? No it’s just ur dirty ass thoughts thinking about that hot business dudes attire from across the street and how you wish they were tied around ur wrists.

Probably had a crush on Jeff the Killer as a tween and are relentlessly haunted by your old Wattpad library. 

Tbh any dark-haired dude with bedhead that screams rugged and probably not good for you is something that draws you like a moth to a flame.

You often question why every person you’ve fallen for has been a Scorpio and curse that tendency of yours.

Dw man they’re hot so I feel u.

Kenma:

Went through a ‘I’m not like other __’ phase and it’s something that you think about a lot and wish you didn’t.

Watched dan & phil as a kid.

Any mention of Pokemon has you turning into a rabid beast you get way too excited.

It’s cute though dw bby.

Pretty antisocial but interesting to talk to.

Your family often question how you’re able to sleep in till 3pm and judge you heavily for it.

Nocturnal night owl gang rise up.

Frequently have bags under your eyes but somehow manage to pull it off.

Listen to ASMR on the down-low and will never admit it to a single soul.

Frequently go on BL binges and have many related book marks.

You pray that someone will never find your laptop bc holy fuck the amount of smut on that.

You wear scarves & beanies even when it isn’t that cold outside.

100% went through a scene hair phase/attempted to.

You dye your hair a lot or REALLY want to.

You have a voice kink low-key so anyone with a pleasant/soothing sounding voice just gets u goin’.

Cats are your favourite animal and you either do or want to own several.

Would name them after video game/anime characters u fuckin nerd lol.

Speaking of cats ,you fantasise heavily about cat-boys and have a folder dedicated to them.

Oversized hoodies are your vibe and always ball the sleeve hems in your fist as a comfort mechanism.

Shopping centres are your worst nightmare and trigger your claustrophobia or social anxiety and honestly I feel that spiritually.

Have a cute sticky note collection.

You like a lot of music consisting of guitar and slow/soothing beats.

You also fw EDM/ techno on occasions.

Honestly wouldn’t wanna anger you since you have a seething temper when pushed far enough.

It’s the kinda temper that’s eerily quiet but no less terrifying, like the other person can tell you are graphically plotting their demise.

You love sleeping to the sound of rainfall and often play those nature ambience videos while you sleep.

Never tidy your sheets and it’s just a big scrunched up heap of fabric in the centre of your mattress most of the time.

Make your fucking bed.

Lev:

Your ships are chaotic and shamelessly controversial.

Would do something just for the sake of creating mayhem lmao.

You were the fucker who stuck their chewing gum under the desk, I see you.

Your brain never stops whirring it’s a constant hurricane of crackhead energy and you have no idea how to turn it off. 

Would eat a stick of pencil lead for $2

You don’t help your situation with the amount of coffee/energy drinks you consume.

The class clown who cries themselves to sleep.

Such a wholesome dumbass but somehow kinda intimidating??? 

Even if you’re not confident you can do something you’ll try anyway and honestly I respect that about you.

You !! use!!! a lot??!! of!! random punctuation!!! so you always??!?!? seem!!111!! excited!!!!!11!?

Every time you’ve ever tried to make a sandcastle it has failed.

You tried to eat the sand once but we don’t talk bout that.

You would  also pick up slugs and snails and chase your friends around with them.

Can never tell whether people are laughing with you or at you and while you don’t let it show it high-key bothers you when you’re laying alone in your room at night.

Not one to hold grudges, you carry a ‘shit happens’ mentality which is v good but it sometimes leads to people taking advantage of it or walking all over you.

Your meme collection is both questionable and horrifying.

Like how many cursed images and heavily distorted pictures does one person need.

Never organise the files on your PC/laptop so it looks like a complete dumpster fire.

The one at sleepovers who persistently woke everyone else up with their snickering and refusal to sleep till dawn.

For the love of Asahi charge your damn phone.

I see that red bar and ‘12%’

Charge it now.

Bought a plant one time, gave it a name and talked to it frequently.

It died not long after bc u forgot to fucking water it.

No one better ever make you responsible for a pet.

Type of person that when someone asks you to tag along on an endeavour no matter how stupid it is you will agree.

2am skydiving in france? hell yeah.

Midnight shopping spree and spending over half your pay check? count you in.

Exploring an abandoned hospital and performing an Ouija board to summon the demons of hell? you’re damn right you’ll be there.

I hope you have a mum friend by your side bc if not how are you still alive.

You sometimes put the milk in before the cereal and it’s something I’ll never forgive you for.

Yaku:

Very responsible and usually make the right decisions.

You do have moments where you act like a complete dumbass though.

Like u go from 50 year old to 5 year old in the blink of an eye.

A hopeless romantic but it’s a side you don’t often reveal.

Prefer strawberry milk over any other flavour.

You’re the type of person to shower twice a day w/o fail.

Where that stank smell coming from? Not you clearly bc your skin is basically 90% The Body Shop’s rose scented soap at this point.

You get stomach aches a lot and you can’t figure out why.

Probably an allergy to everyone’s bs.

Really good at dirty talk even though you don’t seem the type so people are always taken aback.

You have to be really in the mood though otherwise it falls flatter than Oikawa’s ass, use your skill wisely.

You often call people clowns when you know you’re secretly the biggest one going.

Honk honk, hoe.

You send messages in one paragraph rather than multiple texts unless you are REALLY excited.

People underestimate you at times then are shocked when they realise you are capable of being a fire-breathing dragon from the flaming pits of hell.

You like spicy chicken wings.

Such a petty little shit at times lmao.

Enjoy the view from the top of mountains so you either hike a lot or really want to.

Way more of a cat person since it’s just much more convenient for you.

Usually pretty cheerful or calm and people are drawn to your stable/friendly aura.

Went through a phase of drinking mountain dew and your body still feels the awful effects

Fav element is probably air.

You’re 5′6″ or shorter.

Box dyed your hair brunette several times and can never get the pigment out to this day.

Yamamoto:

Whenever you smell something weird in the room you always internally freak out and think it’s you.

Head-butting walls is your hobby.

You fell off your bike as a kid and still have the scar on your knee.

Probably have tons of ear piercings.

Would tame a pigeon and call it Larry.

You get frequent nosebleeds and can never tell if it’s a medical issue or your extreme simping for fictional men/women.

Hopefully the latter.

You constantly chew your pen/pencil in class so you never lend them to anyone out of embarrassment.

I really hope no one ever lends you stationery bc 30 minutes later it’ll look like it was mauled by a rabid rottweiler.

You really want to own a dog and would call it something intimidating like Banshee or Diablo.

You bleached your hair that one time and it almost fell out so now you’re forced to stay at least 10 metres away from all at-home hair dye products.

You tried your best though bby so A for effort, even if it did look like dehydrated ramen afterwards.

Your grades are mostly C’s and you’re barely passing bc you just don’t care about your classes lol.

Still though you’re actually pretty smart so put it to good use you lazy oaf, channel that crackhead energy into something good.

Your phone screen has several cracks in it from when you dropped it on the bathroom floor while shitting and you’ll always be angry at yourself for that.

You have some really weird quirks but you make it work.

Actually a v chill person but you just kinda attract chaos/trouble wherever you go.

Carry a lighter with you even when you don’t need one.

Shy texter but once people see you irl you are the complete opposite, you just dk how to text without coming across as awkward.

One of those people that’s unintentionally funny and always get confused when you make someone laugh but it makes you feel good regardless.

Have a cool necklace collection and own at least one dog-tag/army style pendant.

Should really consider buying a rabbit you would look so cute w/ one.

You have really nice legs and people should compliment them more.

Either severely dehydrated or overly hydrated to the point you are peeing pure tap water so for the love of god please learn moderation, your kidneys and bladder will thank you for it.

Inuoka:

Your favourite character would be Hinata but you like people taller than you so your love for Inuoka spawned.

You really enjoy using the double spiderman meme.

Cannot correctly verbalise your feelings without creating a minimum of 10 misunderstandings but once people are used to it it’s kinda endearing.

You usually wake up in a good mood and people can never fathom how or why.

You either stay up till 5am or you wake up at that time no in between.

A morning person bc you love the sunrise.

Change your lock-screen very regularly bc you get bored.

Your humour consists solely of poop jokes.

When you don’t understand a joke you laugh anyway and hope they don’t ask you if you actually get it.

Happened once and you’re still traumatised from the cricket silence that fell upon the room.

Really like the taste of lemonade and drink it more often than you should.

Often think about what you would look like with a shaved head.

More of an extrovert but def have occasional introvert tendencies where you wanna be left tf alone.

Never allowed to pick up anything in stores bc the last time you did you sniffed a scented candle and it shattered to the floor.

Constantly have spontaneous ideas of what to change about your appearance.

You use a lot of hand gestures like thumbs up and peace signs.

‘Dude’ and ‘lmao’ is 90% of your vernacular.

Your nails are a disaster, some are down to the nub while others are pretty grown out bc you only bite a select few please sort it out.

Look really good in red.

Your laptop has way too many tabs open from random google searches of words you didn’t know the meaning to.

You read a lot of books but for like 10 minutes at a time bc you have the attention span of a walnut.

You are the type of person to nuke your AO3 tags with things that aren’t even relevant purely bc you found them funny.

Your Tumblr drafts are a nightmare, you have like 100+ in the works yet keep starting new projects why do you do this.

Happy sunshine but you have a LOT of mood swings like that shit comes out of nowhere.

Cry pretty often but no one ever sees and it’s usually because of said mood swings.

You always smile and pick yourself up again though which I commend you for.

TYPES IN CAPITALS IN SITUATIONS THAT DO NOT REQUIRE SAID PUNCTUATION SO YOU SEEM LIKE YOU’RE YELLING ALL THE TIME.

[lockefanfic]

Business Trip: Pt 30 - Mission

Author’s note: no smut in this one :P

---

On one of the van's monitors, you watch a live video feed from Sana as she sits in the cafe across the street from the SM HQ main entrance, the long lens DSLR on the table next to her pointed right at its front doors. The camera makes a series of clicking sounds as Irene emerges from the building and steps into a waiting black car, an air of haughty arrogance following her every step of the way. From the back of the tech van, parked a few blocks away in a secluded alleyway, you watch as the still captures from her camera appear on a monitor.

To say there was a tense atmosphere in the van was a bit of an understatement.

You were thankful, at least, for the presence of Jihyo, who was sitting between you and Jeongyeon in the rear of the van, the three of you facing the bank of monitors, laptops, and other tech equipment that Jeongyeon was somehow operating - all at the same time, it seemed. Silence weighed heavy in the air, aside from the tapping of Jeongyeon's fingers as she typed out some indecipherable code on a terminal that you presume kept everything running smoothly.

Doing your best to ignore the tension in the air, you focus instead on the jittery picture on one of the main monitors - the live video feed from Nayeon's jacket camera. You watch as she nears the alleyway that contained the side entrance door to SM - the entrance code to which she had convinced Jay to give up earlier in the week.

"Command, Blue 1. At staging point. Ready to commence operation."

---

"Well that sounded unpleasant."

 You don't bother to look up from your desk, where you have buried your head in your hands. By the sound of her voice and the heavy click of the oversized combat boots she is wearing, you know that the young woman who has just entered your office is none other than Jeongyeon. The large black mens' boots gave her outfit a distinctly Jeongyeon vibe, given the fact that the rest of her clothing consisted of a rather formal looking leopard print cocktail dress.

 You hear her close the door to your office and pull up a chair as you rub your face one last time in a vain attempt to rid yourself of stress.

 "You wanna talk about it, boss?" she says, sounding genuinely concerned. 

 She was clearly referring to the way Nayeon had left your tech test meeting in the parking lot; given that the door to the van was open Jeongyeon likely heard everything that was said between you, including the way the older girl had stormed off after noticing Sana's clothing choice for that day.

 "What's there to talk about? Just another goddamn issue to deal with on top of the shit sundae that has been my life in the past six months or so."

 Jeongyeon crosses her arms and those long perfect legs, a look of worry on her soft features.

 "I guess it has been... rough for you the past little while. Maybe we should cancel or postpone this op until Nayeon gets over this? She seems a little... emotionally compromised at the moment."

 "It's fine," you answer, "she's nothing if not a professional. She'll be there at 3."

 Jeongyeon glances over to the wall clock. It was 1:15.

 "What exactly happened between you two?" she asks, hesitation plain in her voice, "I mean, I know what happened in your past is none of my business... but you two clearly have some history. It was a little hard to ignore the little soap opera scene that was playing out fifteen feet away from me."

 You look up at the young woman and take a moment to compose yourself.

 "Nayeon and I met in university. We dated - long term. But then I got a job offer from JYP that necessitated me moving away, and she got accepted into a Masters' program; so we broke up. It wasn't a... smooth breakup, to put it simply."

 "I'm sorry to hear that."

 "It is what it is. Believe me when I said her showing up to help us with this whole Irene thing is a surprise - to be honest, I never thought I'd ever see her again. She was the first person on the list of problems I hoped I'd never have to deal with."

 Jeongyeon takes a moment to gather her thoughts, bringing a slender hand to her mouth and tapping her lips with a fingertip. A couple of moments of silence pass.

 "You... seem to have a lot of girls on your list."

 You are taken aback by Jeongyeon's words - a little offended by her insinuation that you didn't know how to manage your relationships with women.

 "You know about my relationship with the girls on the team. You've never had a problem with that. And is it so hard to believe I've had past girlfriends?"

 "No, it's not that - not that at all. I don't mean to judge you."

 "Then what do you mean, Jeongyeon?"

 The young woman takes a moment to compose her words, apparently taken aback by your defensiveness.

 "I just... I guess I've just been bumped down another spot on the list."

 She casts her eyes down and away from you as a look of sadness overtakes her features. She had made plain her feelings for you, and to see yet another woman enter your life vying for your attention must have hit her hard. You immediately regret speaking so defensively.

 "I... I'm sorry, Jeongyeon. I misunderstood you. I didn't mean-"

 "No, it's okay," she says, waving a hand away, "I didn't mean to make things so serious all of a sudden. I'm sorry. I should go. I'll see you at 3."

 Jeongyeon stands and turns to leave your office, but she is stopped - when you reach over and grab her by the wrist.

 You weren't even sure how you did it - your body seemed to move of its own accord, quickly rising and reaching out for her slender arm, doing something, anything, to keep her from leaving. It was almost automatic, involuntary; and it didn't sink in that you had done it until Jeongyeon turns around to look you in the eye. Her eyes are glistening.

 "Jeongyeon," you manage to say, "I'm sorry. Please. Don't go."

 You stand there in silence for a few moments that seem to stretch out into infinity, your hand clutching her wrist, your eyes searching for something in each others' that neither of you were quite sure could actually be found.

 "I need to know," Jeongyeon finally says, her voice surprisingly stern, as though she were mustering every ounce of courage she had to speak, "I need to know if we're ever going to happen. I've told you I would wait for you while you figured yourself out... but I'm tired of waiting. I need to know. I need to know if you're ever going to be with me."

 "Jeongyeon," you say, unable to come up with anything else to say. Jeongyeon's eyes are glassy with tears, but the tone of her voice is strong and confident.

 "I need to know if you feel the same way. I need to know if I'm ever going to be more than just another girl on your list."

 "I..."

 "Why can't you see it?" she interrupts, her frustration and anger lending her voice strength, "Why can't you see how much stress and drama and heartache all these other girls are causing you? Momo, Sana, Nayeon - all these other girls - all they do is burden you. All you do is deal with their bullshit. Why can't you see how easy it would be if we were together? Why can’t you see how much I care about you?"

 You had known for a long time about Jeongyeon, and how she felt about you. She had told you as such on multiple occasions - and it was evidently obvious enough that others around the office had noticed it, too. You are suddenly unable to look at her in the eye anymore, and instead your gaze drifts down to where you are still clutching her wrist - except you aren't holding her there anymore, your hand having drifted down of its own accord to hold her hand in yours.

 It wasn't until just then, with your hand clutching hers, that you realized how you felt. Everything she said - everything she said about the drama the other girls had brought into your life, and the unending need to handle everything they threw at you - it was all true. 

 And here was a woman who wanted you, only you, and nothing else. And yet you'd done nothing but lead her on, nothing but merely acknowledge her feelings for you even while you went off and dealt with other women, even while she waited for you, patiently, waiting for you to realize how wonderful a relationship with her could be. She was beautiful and smart and funny and everything you ever needed - why hadn't you seen it earlier?

 You want to say something to her, something that will lay bare your feelings - but she doesn't give you the opportunity. She lets go of your hand, and your heart aches at the separation.

 "You know what hotel room I'm in," she says, her tone still strong even if her eyes were not, "come to me tonight, once this is all done. Then I'll know. If you don't, then we can forget anything ever existed between us. I'll give up my feelings for you, and we can go back to just being co-workers with benefits."

 She turns and walks out of your office, but she lingers around the door before leaving.

 "Either way, I'll be one less problem on your list."

 ---

 "Command, Pink 1. Positive ID on VIP leaving the building. Sending confirmation images."

 "Pink 1, Command. Acknowledged. Standby for further orders."

 On one of the van's monitors, you watch a live video feed from Sana as she sits in the cafe across the street from the SM HQ main entrance, the long lens DSLR on the table next to her pointed right at its front doors. The camera makes a series of clicking sounds as Irene emerges from the building and steps into a waiting black car, an air of haughty arrogance following her every step of the way. From the back of the tech van, parked a few blocks away in a secluded alleyway, you watch as the still captures from her camera appear on a monitor.

 To say there was a tense atmosphere in the van was a bit of an understatement.

 You were thankful, at least, for the presence of Jihyo, who was sitting between you and Jeongyeon in the rear of the van, the three of you facing the bank of monitors, laptops, and other tech equipment that Jeongyeon was somehow operating - all at the same time, it seemed. Silence weighed heavy in the air, aside from the tapping of Jeongyeon's fingers as she typed out some indecipherable code on a terminal that you presume kept everything running smoothly.

 Doing your best to ignore the tension in the air, you focus instead on the jittery picture on one of the main monitors - the live video feed from Nayeon's jacket camera. You watch as she nears the alleyway that contained the side entrance door to SM - the entrance code to which she had convinced Jay to give up earlier in the week.

 "Command, Blue 1. At staging point. Ready to commence operation."

 "Blue 1, Command. PID on VIP leaving the building. Be advised, nest is empty, lights are green," Jihyo answers.

 "Blue 1 acknowledges. Commencing."

 You might have just imagined it, but from the second Nayeon had declared she was starting the operation the way she walked seemed to have changed - if the decreased shakiness of the video feed was anything to go by; her steps seemed more stable as she adopted the persona of an SM employee. As you had predicted, she was nothing but professional once she got to work.

 She reaches the keypad to the nondescript black door on the side of the building, and without hesitation - for she knew she was probably on camera - she punches in Jay's code on the keypad next to it. Through the camera's audio feed you hear a loud beep and the click of what was probably the door unlocking. The three of you in the van breathe a sigh of relief, thankful that Jay's code had actually worked - the first of many hurdles.

 Nayeon opens the door and enters the building. The hallway she steps into is basic, nothing out of the ordinary. Jay had said that Irene used this entrance as a way to meet contacts that she didn't want to be seen walking in through the front door, and so you weren't surprised by the mundane nature of the hallway - a stark contrast to the otherwise sleek, hypermodern design that pervaded the rest of the building.

 There is a single door to the left, and Nayeon strides toward it, every step confident, self-assured, seeming to anyone watching (and she probably was being watched, if the numerous security cameras were any indication) that she belonged there.

 Beyond the door is a simply furnished waiting room, with two leather couches in the middle of it, a coffee table between them, and a desk next to the only other door out of the room - a desk with a very surprised looking receptionist.

 The receptionist, a young woman, stands, seemingly surprised by Nayeon's entrance. She bows cautiously and greets her in Korean. Even without understanding the language you know she is asking what Nayeon's business is, and presumably whether she has an appointment. The two begin to converse politely.

 "Nayeon told her she doesn't have an appointment - but that Irene is expecting her," Jihyo translates, "she's telling the receptionist she'll just wait in Irene's office."

 Nayeon continues towards the door to Irene’s office, not giving the receptionist an opportunity to stop her. The nervous looking receptionist does her best to physically get in Nayeon's way, an apologetic tone in her voice as she gestures towards the leather couches, presumably so she could confirm Nayeon's identity with Irene before allowing her inside.

 Nayeon's demeanor changes - and even without knowing the meaning of her words you can detect the introduction of venom into her tone.

 "She's insisting Irene is expecting her, and that she should be let into her office. The receptionist wants her to sit and wait for Irene."

 The two go back and forth for awhile, and the faux impatience and anger in Nayeon's tone steadily rises. The girl could act - the sheer, utter confidence she carried in her personal life served her well in her professional one as well, it seemed.

 "She's threatening the receptionist," Jihyo translates with a small, subtle grin on her lips, "she's saying if she doesn't let her into Irene's office, Irene will hear about it and it'll cost her her job."

 The young receptionist is visibly flustered, and you feel a momentary sense of pity at the situation Nayeon had put her in. Nayeon, however, feels no such sympathy, and with a few more terse words that sound like a command and a sharp nod of her head towards the door, the receptionist reaches over and opens the way to Irene's office. The receptionist bows deeply in apology as Nayeon enters and slams the door behind her. 

 Nayeon was now where she needed to be - Irene’s office, where she decided there was the best chance for finding something to incriminate Irene and SM. The office consisted of a large wooden desk with a laptop on it, and behind that a series of minimalist filing cabinets. Irene’s leather desk chair was large and opulent, but facing the desk for her guests were two spartan chairs; it was a layout meant to place Irene in a position of power with whomever she met, leaving no doubt as to who was in charge. 

 "Command, Blue 1. I'm in. Commencing search."

 Almost immediately a sense of urgency that wasn’t there previously overtakes Nayeon, as though a switch had been flipped inside her; she dashes over to the desk, producing a USB drive that Jeongyeon had equipped her with. She quickly plugs it into the presumably locked and encrypted laptop.

 “Give me five minutes,” Jeongyeon says, as she quickly begins typing code into a terminal.

 Nayeon doesn’t waste any time, and she quickly turns to the filing cabinets. She pulls the first one open and begins rifling through the paper files she finds inside, pulling a few folders out and placing the contents onto the desk. She pulls out her phone, and immediately begins taking photos of the documents.

 This goes on for a few minutes, and while there was no immediate threat to her, you still found yourself worried for Nayeon’s safety; at any moment SM security could have burst through the door and caught her red handed. Every second she spent on SM property, she was in danger.

 “I’m in!” Jeongyeon announces, seemingly having gained access to the contents of Irene’s laptop, “I’m downloading to the drive.”

 “How long will that take?” Jihyo asks.

 “About ten minutes. There’s terabytes of data here,” Jeongyeon answers. As Nayeon’s device downloads text and images, previews of each file scroll on one of the monitors in front of you.

 “Blue 1, you’ll have to hold for ten minutes,” Jihyo relays.

 “Understood,” Nayeon replies, not skipping a beat as she returns the files she is working on to the drawer before grabbing another handful and starting again. You don’t have time to look at exactly what she is photographing, but you do catch glimpses of the JYP logo - several black and white photo of members of your team, obviously taken from a long distance.

 You watch Jeongyeon bring a hand to her mouth in shock as several photos of her at a cafe with Choa flash briefly on the monitors.

 “Fucking bitch,” Jihyo says out loud. Briefly, her entire service record flashes on the screen - her resume, her case records, even her psych evaluations.

 “How the hell did she get all this shit? What the hell is she planning?” Jeongyeon hisses, still in shock. Neither Jihyo nor you are able to answer. Your fists clench in anger at the scale of Irene’s newly discovered treachery.

 “Jesus, there’s a lot here,” Nayeon quips as she flips through another folder and snaps more pictures, “plenty enough for invasion of privacy charges, at least.”

 “That’s not enough,” you snap, “we need to catch her on more. I want her in jail.”

 “I agree - there has to be something more substantial,” Jihyo adds, “something that implicates her in something big.”

 Nayeon continues her search, finishing up with her current folder before returning it to the cabinet. Instead of grabbing the next one in order, she flips through the files, evidently looking for something with an interesting label.

 Her fingers stop suddenly when a black folder comes into view - it is grainy and blurry on the video monitor, but even you can see that it was clearly a folder of importance. 

 On the label for the folder are two stark letters: YG.

 “That’s it,” Jihyo says with a tone of urgency, “that’s gotta have something on the YG case!”

 “The YG case?” You ask. You had known that Irene had played some part in the recent fall of one of the larger companies in your industry, but you didn’t know many of the details.

 “YG was one of the big players, “Jihyo explains, her eyes not once straying from the monitor where Nayeon has begun combing through the file, “until a few years ago, when Irene brought down their leadership with a combination of blackmail and bribery. Rumour had it their R&D group was on the verge of a tech breakthrough - until all four members of their core research team disappeared.”

 “Disappeared?” Jeongyeon asks.

 “Yeah - one day they were here, the next day they were gone. Since everyone knows Irene had a hand in bringing down the company, everyone just assumed she had a part to play in their disappearance too, but there isn’t any evidence to prove that. SM didn’t debut any new tech after taking down YG either, which they would have done if they’d had a hold on the R&D group’s work.”

 “Jesus…” Jeongyeon hisses; she knew first hand what Irene’s people were capable of, having been a victim of it herself. “Is it possible that the team went into hiding? What if they knew Irene was on their tail, and they went underground to keep SM and Irene from getting their hands on the tech they were working on?”

 “That’s a possibility,” Jihyo answers, “we know SM wanted to take YG down because they were a business rival, but the possibility of stealing their tech at the same time is probably what motivated them to send Irene after them.”

 Nayeon continues her scanning of the files - until a knock on the door of the office startles her and the three of you in the van.

 Nayeon freezes for only a moment until her training kicks in and she moves, with admirable calm, into action.

 “Command, Blue 1. Update on the drive?”

 “Blue 1, Command. Six minutes,” Jihyo answers after glancing over at Jeongyeon’s screen.

 Nayeon closes up the YG file and places it on top of the laptop, covering up the USB drive, before walking towards the door. Taking a breath, she opens it swiftly. On the other side of the door is a tall, slim man in a perfect black suit, the earpiece in his ear and his overall appearance marking him out as a likely member of SM’s security team. Next to him is the receptionist, a nervous look on her features.

 Nayeon questions the man with a terse tone, as though she were annoyed at his interruption. The man answers politely but firmly, seemingly asking for confirmation of Nayeon’s identity.

 Nayeon lets her confidence and body language speak for her, answering his questions with a haughty and arrogant tone to her voice, as though she couldn’t believe the man had the gall to bother her while she was waiting for her non-existent appointment with Irene.

 Nayeon lets out a scoff, as though she couldn’t believe what was happening. Finally she invites him into Irene’s office with a disgusted wave of her hand. When he steps inside, she slams the door behind him - but not before shooting the receptionist a sharp look.

 “Nayeon says the security guard can wait in the office with her if the receptionist is so worried,” Jihyo translates.

 The two converse in Korean. Nayeon slumps into Irene’s desk chair as if she owned it, crossing her legs and idly browsing through something on her phone. The man sits in one of the chairs opposite her, likely surprised by the sheer gall and arrogance on display by the stranger in front of him who was sitting in his boss’ chair.

 “She’s hitting on him,” Jihyo says with a smirk, “she says that the receptionist was annoying but at least he’s cute. She’s asking him if there are any good places nearby to get a drink.”

 The security guard seemed surprised at Nayeon’s sudden change in tone, but he seemed willing to indulge her at least. It sounded like he was suggesting a few places nearby. Whatever Nayeon was saying to him, it sounded like his tough exterior was beginning to crack.

 From her interrogation of Jay you knew Nayeon was not above using her body to get what she wanted - and while you knew it was for the good of the mission (not to mention her own safety), you still found yourself hesitant at what you were about to witness.

 Nayeon rises from her chair and walks around to the front of the desk, each step accompanied with an exaggerated swing of her hips. She leans against the front of the desk, crossing her legs in front of her. The guard seemed a little tense at her new proximity, shifting nervously in his seat as Nayeon continues to make small talk with him, her tone slowly becoming more and more flirtatious.

 He finds enough courage to say what appears to be a joke, if Nayeon’s reaction is anything to go by.

 She lets out a short giggle - the kind of giggle a girl gives when she is not truly amused but rather wants to appear as cute as possible. You don’t understand what she says next, but you imagine she is telling him how funny he is.

 “She says she’s bored of waiting,” Jihyo translates, “and that there must be something they could do to pass the time.”

 You fidget in your chair in the cramped van, uncomfortable at having to bear witness for the second time in a week as your ex-girlfriend seduces a man. At least this time there was more than just a pane of one-way glass separating you, not that it lessened the discomfort.

 Nayeon bends over until she is just inches away from the guard’s face - and you could tell he was trying awfully hard not to take a glimpse down the tantalizing cleavage of her low cut blouse.

 She taps his nose with a finger - which would have been cute, if she didn’t immediately follow it up by tracing her finger along his admittedly sharp jawline. Her finger falls slowly down to the red, perfectly knotted tie at his throat, and with her long, delicate fingers she undoes the knot and pulls on the red silk until it is completely off.

 She stands, playing seductively with the red silk, until she is standing behind him. You don’t understand the content of the lustful sounding words coming from her mouth, but you do understand her tone. She bends to whisper something in his ear as she wraps the tie around his mouth and knots it behind his head, the red silk filling his mouth and keeping him from speaking. She continues to speak seductively into his ear, and as her fingers fall down the front of his chest to slowly undo the buttons of his white shirt, you brace yourself for what was about to transpire-

 -until Nayeon abruptly whacks the guard over the head with what appeared to be a heavy steel stapler.

 You didn’t even know when she picked it up from Irene’s desk, nor where she hid it while she seduced the guard - all you knew was that said guard was now on the floor unconscious, and Nayeon was rushing back to the laptop to retrieve the USB and its now-completed download of Irene’s data. She snatches the YG folder from the desk and quickly makes towards the exit.

 “Command, Blue 1. Leaving.”

 “Acknowledged, Blue 1,” Jihyo answers, a small, impressed smile on her lips.

 Nayeon slips out of the office and finds the waiting room empty - dismissing the absence of the receptionist, she quickly heads towards the hallway door that will lead her to the outside of the building.

 In the hallway to greet her are half a dozen more guards.

 In that moment time freezes; there is a look of utter shock on the guards’ faces when Nayeon appears, and it seems to take forever for the foremost amongst them to acknowledge Nayeon’s presence by raising his hand and shouting something in Korean. It is just enough time for Nayeon to make a decision - the one to run.

 She dashes as quickly as she can down the hallway, the six guards in close pursuit. She reaches the door first and bursts into the alleyway.

 “Command, Blue 1! Request for hot extract!”

 “Blue 1, acknowledged!” Jihyo answers quickly, already scrambling towards the front of the van and the drivers’ seat. She starts the engine and before you can get a hold of anything the van is already moving, throwing you off your seat and to the floor of the vehicle. Jeongyeon is just as surprised as you, and the sudden jolt of movement causes her to lose her balance and fall quite literally into your arms. Your arms wrap themselves around her as Jihyo pushes the van out into the busy street.

 You barely have time to get upright before the van screeches to a halt a few seconds later, sending both Jeongyeon and yourself tumbling forward uncontrollably. You land roughly on top of her, and you immediately give her a look of concern, but she is a tough one, and a shake of her head dismisses your worry.

 “Fuck, we’re stuck!” Jihyo snaps. You raise your head enough to peer through the front window to find a large dump truck has begun to back up into an adjacent construction site, stopping traffic from both sides from progressing.

 “Can’t back up!” Jeongyeon shouts as she looks out the rear window. It was rush hour in Seoul and cars were already packed behind the van.

 “Shit,” you hiss. You look up at the monitor where Nayeon is still running away from the guards, the video feed bouncing and rattling with the pace of her run. From the way she was running she was still clearly being chased.

 “Blue 1, this is Command,” you say quickly into the microphone, “make for the shopping mall across the street. We can lose them in the crowd. I’ll meet you there!”

 “Okay!” Nayeon manages to answer.

 “I’m gonna go grab her. Jihyo, once this clears up pick us up from the mall!” You shout as you open up the rear doors of the van and scramble out, wanting to do something, anything, to save Nayeon from her pursuers.

 —-

 The mall is crowded, as you expected, but it at least gave you a chance to lose the SM guards in the rush of after-work shoppers - or so you hoped. It doesn’t take you long to find Nayeon - there is a loud commotion at one of the entrances, and before you know it Nayeon is there, running towards you, half a dozen suited men in close pursuit.

 “Run!” She shouts, and before you know it the two of you are running, ducking and weaving around the busy crowd of startled shoppers. The crowd shouts and yelps in alarm as you ran as fast as you could, unable to avoid the occasional unintentional bump of a started onlooker.

 The guards are close behind - you needed to do something to throw them off. Taking Nayeon by the wrist, you duck into a hallway apart from the main shopping area that contained the mall’s washrooms and admin areas - and it appears you’re successful, as you risk a glance behind you and deduct from the retreating source of the commotion that the guards are heading in the wrong direction.

 You and Nayeon breathe a sigh of relief, happy that you’d lost the guards for now. Satisfied that your pursuers have been sufficiently thrown off, you head back into the main shopping area-

 -only to quite literally run into a guard; the same one Nayeon had knocked out in Irene’s office.

 It takes the both of you a split second to recognize each other, but when the guard finally recovers enough from the shock to realize who you and the woman behind you were, a look of anger quickly appears on his face.

 He raises his hand to his mouth, presumably to report to the radio microphone in his jacket cuff. He begins to speak-

 -only to be punched in the mouth and knocked out cold for the second time in the last half hour.

 Yoo Jeongyeon is there, suddenly, shaking her fist as she stands over the guard’s fallen form, a grimace on her face.

 “Fuck, they never tell you how much it hurts to punch someone,” she hisses.

 Nayeon and you take a moment to register what just happened, until a loud shout from the other side of the mall snaps the three of you back into the moment. A split second later you watch as the six SM guards, realizing they’d been heading in the wrong direction, begin to head back towards you. Evidently the knocked out guard got enough across to tell them where you were before Jeongyeon laid him out.

 “Shit!” Jeongyeon snaps, before the three of you quickly dart back into the hallway. The sound of the heavy shoes stomping after you, and the shouts of alarm and anger from members of the crowd as they are pushed aside, tells you the guards are in close pursuit.

 Nayeon, leading the way, heads towards the end of the hallway, where a red emergency door seemingly leads to the outside of the mall. It might have been locked, it might have led to a dead end, but at the moment it was your only option.

 Nayeon barges into the door with her shoulder, which thankfully gives way and reveals an alleyway. You are only a few seconds ahead of your pursuers, but when you step across the door you immediately turn and brace yourself against it, holding it shut as best you could. Jeongyeon notices what you’re doing and she too braces herself against it.

 “Run, Nayeon!” You shout, and you watch as Nayeon stands momentarily frozen, debating whether or not she should do as you say. The second passes, and Nayeon quickly turns to begin to run away - but she only runs to a nearby pile of trash, where she retrieves a heavy looking bin. Jeongyeon scrambles to help her pick it up, and together the three of you push it up against the door.

 And you do so just in time, as the door bursts almost halfway open when the guards on the other side throw themselves against it. The bin is heavy and helps the three of you keep the door shut, but you knew it was only a matter of time before the men on the other side eventually overpowered you and forced their way out.

 “Fuck, Nayeon, just get out of here. Get the data to Jihyo,” you snap as you push as heavily as you could against the bin and the door. The guards on the other side are shouting as they try to pry the door open, all of them appearing to throw their weight behind it.

 You make eye contact with Nayeon, and in her eyes you see her inner conflict - she didn’t want to leave you there, didn’t want to leave you to be captured by SM, not when she knew what they were capable of and what had happened to others that had crossed Irene. But the information in the file and on her USB drive were vital, and someone had to get it out there…

 For a split second Nayeon’s eyes quiver, as though she were afraid of having to live with her decision - but then before you know it she is gone, dashing away, running as fast as her legs could carry her. You watch as she turns the corner and disappears out into the busy street.

 You know that she was just doing what you had ordered her to do - what made the most sense in that situation. The information in the folder, and the USB drive, might have been enough to finally bring Irene to justice. Someone had to get it out into the public. Nonetheless, it hurt you to see her run and leave you to deal with the SM guards, even when you knew it was the most logical course of action.

 Next to you, Jeongyeon is struggling to push back against the door, a look of hard effort on her face as she leans as hard as she could against the cold steel and the heavy bin. She could have run right along with Nayeon, but instead she decided to stay.

 “You didn’t have to come for us,” you manage to say.

 “I didn’t come for her,” she answers, “I came for you.”

 You reach over and clutch her hand, covering it with yours. You smile at her, a sad smile; you were both about to be captured by dangerous people with ill intentions, and while you would have been happier knowing she was far away and safe, a small part of you was still happy she was there, with you, when she could have easily stayed in the van with Jihyo.

 Jeongyeon smiles back at you. 

 The door bursts open and the guards spill out into the alleyway, the force of their exit knocking you and Jeongyeon to the ground. You quickly crawl over to Jeongyeon and help her to her feet, the six guards quickly rising themselves as they finally confront you. 

 You clench your fists and step between them and Jeongyeon, unwilling to go down without a fight and wanting to protect her for as long as you could. You are surprised to find that Jeongyeon has stepped out from behind you to stand side by side, a look of determination on her face as she glares angrily as the SM guards as though taunting them into attacking her. A small stream of blood is falling down her cheek from a gash she must have received as she fell. 

 In her hands is a length of scrap wood that she must have picked up off the ground, clutched in front of her like a sword.

 The SM guards tense, ready for the confrontation that was about to come. The first of them inches forward, and reaches into his suit to draw a collapsible steel baton. You breathe and ready yourself as best you could for what was to come.

 There is a loud screech that could only be that of burning rubber, and everyone in the alley freezes to watch as a van pulls up on the entrance of the alleyway, directly behind you and Jeongyeon. You immediately think it is Jihyo, but this van is white, not black. The side door flies open. Time freezes in that moment, and you manage to make out every single detail of what awaited you inside the van.

 In the van are three women. One was unfamiliar to you. The second you recognize as the fit stewardess on the flight to Seoul from Hawaii last week - the one that had taken a keen interest in you and Jeongyeon. 

 The third woman was one you knew well. She is beautiful, as she always was, even if this time her face is heavy with intensity. Her eyes, those large, expressive eyes of hers, are wide open with alarm and determination. It wasn’t until that moment that you realized how much you’d missed her, how much you’d longed to see her again. 

 But there is something about her that looks a little different, a little out of place. It takes you another split second to realize why she looked so different - her hair, usually in bangs, was now swept off to the side. And while the fact that she was now your rescuer added to the fact, you were convinced that she had never looked more beautiful.

 “Get in!” Hirai Momo shouts, her hand extended towards you.

 You immediately rush Jeongyeon into the van before taking Momo’s hand and letting her pull you into the vehicle. The stewardess shuts the sliding door behind you just as the guards reach the van and try in vain to open the locked door. 

 “Floor it, Chaeyoung!” Momo shouts. The driver, a young looking girl with a short haircut, shifts the van into gear.

 “Hold on!”

 With the sound of screeching tires, the van speeds away from the alleyway, whisking you to safety.

[gingerwritess]

So. This happened to me like, two days ago. I have a friend who has 3 little demons (but I love them). And the situation she was in made me wonder how would Loki react to coming home slightly later than he had intended, only to find his wife trying to do twenty things at a time, in the verge of tears, with a crying Frigg with soap in her eyes, and Elliot trying to console them both, and terribly failing. A dash of angst in there if you may. Love you!! 💕💕💕

ok let’s get some cONTENT up in this blog

here’s that screaming frigg fic y’all were so worried about heheh

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Loki’s out tonight, and the kitchen is flooding.

It figures that it’d happen tonight of all nights, a night when you have a six o’clock appointment the next morning and are trying to get everyone to sleep a little earlier, a night when everything already seems to be going wrong.

There’s a leak in Elliot’s room that just started up again, and in rummaging around under the sink for a pot to catch the water, he’d bumped a pipe with his elbow and the sink had promptly exploded.

Hands full of dirty clothes, you were on the phone with the landlord about the first leak when he sheepishly knocked on the laundry room door, dripping water with every step.

You thought that might’ve been the worst of it, trying to wrap the broken pipe in towels and stop the stream of water, but then a blood-curdling scream comes from the bathroom where you thought Frigg was brushing her teeth.

“Everything’s fine,” you’d assured the landlord, dropping the towels and rushing to the bathroom. “Just my little one, something—oh, god.”

“MY EYES, MOMMY MY EYES—”

Her eyes watery and bloodshot, she’s screaming and furiously rubbing her eyes with two little hands.

Two little bubbly hands.

“One second,” you say into the phone, handing it to Elliot and grabbing Frigg. “What happened?!”

“Soap,” she sobs, pointing at the handsoap, “soap, it ‘mells good, b-but it burns…”

“You rubbed soap in your eyes?”

She nods, a fresh wave of tears enveloping her in shaking screams, and through them you hear Elliot on the phone:

“It’s just my baby sister. Nah, she’s washing her eyes. You married? You got any kids? ”

You grab the phone from him and stick it under your ear, holding it between the side of your face and your shoulder as you swing Frigg under one arm and rush back out to the kitchen.

“Sorry, so the leak—yeah, sure, we can call someone about it.” Still trying to maintain a civil conversation, you grab the pot and run it to Elliot’s room, sticking it under the leak and hurrying back to the kitchen to get to work on the sink. “This falls under the covered maintenance charges, though, right?”

The front door opens just as the landlord gives you a slow “not exactly…” and Loki walks in.

You’re almost relieved to see him until you take in the sight of him, tuning out the landlord’s explanation of how much you’re going to have to pay and Frigg’s consistent screams of pain just to focus on the mess of a husband that just walked through the door.

His shirt hanging open and unbuttoned save the bottom three, hair a sloppy bun behind his head, wide, shocked eyes sweep the room until his mouth opens and—

“They’re supposed to be in bed!”

You choke back a sob and Loki knows he just fucked up.

“Let me call you back,” you croak into the phone, letting it slide off your shoulder onto the floor.

It cracks on the tile, but you couldn’t care less at this point.

“Are they supposed to be in bed, Loki?” You step towards him, wiping your nose on your sleeve as you drag a wailing Frigg along next to you. “Really, are our kids supposed to be asleep right now? I had no idea.”

“I-I didn’t mean—”

“You think I don’t know that?? You think I haven’t been trying for the past two hours—”

“Let me help,” he offers, rushing forward and grabbing Frigg. “What’s she going on about?”

“Soap in her eyes, go help her wash it out.” You gladly hand her over but she just screams louder, thrashing around in Loki’s arms as you run to the kitchen.

“It’s gettin’ worse, mom.” Elliot points at the overflowing sink, a nice puddle of water sloshing around at his feet. “I tried to stop it but it’s comin’ too fast for the towels—”

“LOKI!! Get in here!”

He hurries in, setting Frigg on the counter—still screaming bloody murder—and promptly slips in the puddle of water and falls flat on his back.

You shriek. He laughs.

“Aren’t I graceful,” he giggles, pulling himself back to his feet and flicking water in your face.

Wait.

Giggles??

“Fix the sink,” you groan, head dropping to your chest. “Please.”

“Gladly, m’lady.” He narrows his eyes and holds up his hands, and whoosh—all the water in the sink gathers into a giant wave and washes over the three of you.

At least now your tears will blend in.

“I said fix it,” you grit out, trying not to raise your voice at his stupid grin. “You’re not being funny, Loki, just fix it.”

Elliot looks about ready to cry, too, now in pajamas soaked to the bone with water dripping from his brow.

“Sorry,” Loki chuckles, reaching up to wring out his hair. “My magic doesn’t get along well with alcohol.”

You freeze and Elliot takes a step back—something about this tells him this won’t be pretty.

“Loki?”

He turns to you with a smile and brings a hand up to cradle your cheek. “Hmm?”

You smack his hand away. “You’re drunk, aren’t you.”

He bites his lip with a small grin. “I brought some home for you, too, for once the children are in bed.”

“MOMMY, IT HURTS—”

“Get out of here,” you hoarsely tell him, tears pooling in your eyes. “I can’t deal with you right now, Loki, get out.”

He just blinks, brow furrowing at your tears. “Why are you crying, my love?”

“Dad,” Elliot pipes up before you can explode at him, cautiously placing a hand on Loki’s arm. “You should go, um, take a shower.”

“Why—”

“GET OUT!!” You shout, pushing past him to scoop Frigg off the counter, abandoning the sink issue until the screeching daughter has been stopped.

Drunkenness aside, Loki seems to know what’s best for him, given how he nods and quickly retreats to your room, already shedding his soaked shirt before the door shuts behind him.

“Sorry, mom.” Elliot trails behind you as you take Frigg to the bathroom, helping her out of her pajamas and turning on the shower. “I don’t think dad means anything by it, I think he just came in at the wrong time.”

“Don’t worry,” you sigh, wiping off a mix of sink water and tears with your sleeve. “I’ll talk to him, there’s just too much going on right now. Frigg, sweetie, screaming isn’t going to help, just put your face under the water.”

She shakes her head, teary eyes squeezed shut.

“C’mon, Frigg, you have to get the soap out of your eyes.” You try to guide her under the stream of water, but she fights against you and shakes her head again.

“NO!”

“It’ll make your eyes feel better,” you promise, trying again to pull her into the water. “Elliot, take all the towels from in here and start drying up what you can in the kitchen, okay?”

He nods and gathers up all the towels, taking them out to the kitchen as you give up and climb in the shower with Frigg; you’re already soaked from Loki’s little sink display.

Picking her up, you carefully step under the water and hold her close when she tries to hide from the water, trying to let the gentle stream land on her face.

“See? It’s warm, it won’t hurt you.” You reach over and start gently rubbing her eyes, carefully trying to lift her eyelid to let the clean water rinse away the soap. “Mommy’s got you. It’s just gonna hurt for a little longer, I promise it’ll go away.”

Thankfully she falls slack in your grip and the screams reduce to quiet sniffles, her little arms tightly hugging your neck as you gently wash off her face.

“There we go! Doesn’t that feel better?” Shutting off the water, you step out of the shower and reach for a towel—oh.

Elliot took all the towels. That’s right.

“Now m’all cold, mommy,” Frigg mumbles, hugging your soaked shirt closer.

“Let’s go find dad.”

You really don’t want to have to see him yet, but if all the towels in the house are being used to block a broken pipe, he’ll have to do.

You carry Frigg to your bedroom, knuckles rapping on the door before you step inside. Loki’s wrapped his waist in a towel, digging around in a drawer for a change of clothes, and he looks up with a bright grin when you walk in with Frigg in your arms.

“There’s my girls!”

“We’re out of towels,” you say curtly, stopping before you reach him. “Dry us off?”

His face falls when you won’t round the edge of the bed, but he nods and gives you a sheepish grin as he comes over to place a hand on Frigg’s back.

“Can we talk?” He asks quietly, warm air surrounding you, Frigg nuzzling deeper into the crook of your neck. “I know you’re mad.”

“Not right now,” you mutter, hoisting her higher on your hip. “I’ve got kids to put to bed. And a house to fix. And a drunk husband to take care of.”

“I’m not drunk anymore,” he promises, running his hands up and down your arms with a sad lift of his eyebrow. “I’ll explain everything.”

“Later.”

He doesn’t argue, just sending one more wave of warm air over the two of you and leaning in to press a quick kiss to your forehead before you can duck away.

“Thanks.”

Hugging Frigg a little tighter, you carry her back to the bathroom and help her into her pajamas. The sound of rushing water seems to have gone down, hopefully meaning that Elliot figured something out with the sink, so you tuck Frigg into bed and kiss her goodnight before going out to check on him.

“Fixed it,” Elliot proudly announces, spreading his arms towards the flooded sink.

Sure enough, by some miracle, the stream of water at least has stopped spraying.

“What’d you do?” You drop to your knees and help him finish drying off the floor, gathering armfuls of soaked towels into your arms and lugging them off to the laundry room wth Elliot trailing behind.

“The water was on,” he explains with a quick snort of laughter, helping you dump all the towels into the washer. “I just turned off the faucet ‘n tied up the pipe with a towel.”

“You’re joking, right?”

“No,” he giggles, shaking his head at the smile starting to hint at your lips. “We’re just that dumb.”

You can’t help it—you laugh, reaching over to ruffle a hand through his wet hair. “Thanks for everything, Elliot. You’re a lifesaver.”

“Anytime, mom.” He wraps an arm around your waist for a wet hug, following you back out to the living room. “Is Frigg okay?”

“Yeah,” you sigh, rubbing your eyes with the back of your hand. “Had to rinse her eyes out, but she’s asleep now.”

“She told me she thought the soap smelled good,” he giggles, stopping in his bedroom doorway to look up at you. “So she wanted to see if it looked as pretty as it smelled.”

You shake your head with a grin as he doubles over with muffled laughter. “Okay, maybe she’s not the sharpest tool in the shed,” you laugh, running a hand through his curls. “Yet. She’s only three.”

He just cracks up again, leaning against the doorway to catch his breath. “Gosh, I love her,” he grins, a hand to his heart as a few stray laughs escape. “Oh, and mom? Don’t go too hard on dad, please? He’s really sorry, I can tell.”

You wrap your kid in a hug, pressing your lips to the top of his head. “I won’t,” you assure him. “And I’m not mad at him, it was just a whole lot of bad timing. I’m sorry I shouted at him.”

“S’alright,” he replies softly, hugging you tighter. “Just make sure he knows that. It’s tearin’ him up inside.”

* * * * * * * *

You feel like you’re about to scold one of your kids, with the amount of guilt etched across Loki’s face.

He shoots to his feet when you open the door, lifting a halfhearted hand to you. “I am so, so sorry,” he blurts, “I never should’ve left you—”

“No, don’t be.” You wave away his apologies and trudge over to him, glancing anywhere but at his face. “You have a good time?”

“Don’t brush this off,” he frowns, gently placing a finger under your chin and tilting your head towards him. “Be mad at me. You’re too forgiving. I’ve done plenty tonight to constitute your being upset with me.”

“It was just bad timing,” you weakly argue, crossed arms falling to your sides. “Sorry I shouted at you.”

“I came home drunk, left you to care for our children, I insulted you as a mother and my wife. You should hate me.”

“I just want to sleep,” you whisper, wrapping your fingers around his wrist and pulling his hand away. “I’m so tired, Loki, let’s just go to bed.”

You shrug off his hands and crawl in bed, your back to Loki, reaching over to turn off the light before he can say anything else.

“G’night,” you mumble, blinking back tears.

Crap. You forgot about the leak in Elliot’s room. That’ll have to be tomorrow’s problem.

Loki doesn’t come to bed that night. You hear him get in the shower—again, you guess, he’d already showered once to sober up, but you’re not going to question it—and then he leaves the room, quietly shutting the door behind him.

After about an hour of tossing and turning among the empty sheets, you give up and drag yourself out the door.

The carpet in the living room is still damp from all the water you, Elliot, and Frigg had dripped across the house, squishing under your toes when you see Loki curled up on the couch, eyes tightly shut.

Idiot.

You give his hips a good shove to make some room, lifting his arm and tucking yourself back against his body as he quietly grunts in his sleep.

“You could’ve stayed in bed with me,” you whisper, pulling his arm tight around your chest.

“Don’t deserve to.”

“You’re such an idiot.”

The arm around you tightens and he buries his face in the curve of your neck, placing one single soft kiss there. “Agreed.”

You’re asleep within minutes.

There’s a weight on your chest when you eventually wake up—and it’s definitely well past six in the morning.

Your eyes fly wide open.

You were supposed to be somewhere by now.

Immediately trying to worm your way out from under the dead weight on your chest, you realise it’s Loki and he just grips you tighter, his head on your chest and arms tight around your waist.

“I cancelled it,” he grunts, holding you down until you finally go slack under him, slightly breathless.

“That’s rude,” you huff, smacking weakly at his arm. “I needed to go to that, Tony was counting on me—”

“No, you needed to rest.” He catches your wrist and brings it to his lips, eyes still closed. “I already took Elliot to school, Frigg’s still asleep.”

“…thanks.”

“Mm.” He nuzzles into your neck, thumb brushing along your wrist. “I also need to speak with you.”

“Nooo,” you groan, running a hand through his hair. “I don’t wanna talk about it, let’s just move on.”

“Don’t move.” He squeezes your waist with his arms, planting a kiss on your collarbone. “You don’t have to respond, but I want you to hear my apology.”

You don’t reply, but your fingers tangle in his hair, so Loki keeps talking.

“I’m so sorry for not being here for you,” he murmurs. “I have no excuse. The same responsibility you carry for our family should fall on me as well, yet I threw that away last night for a few drinks with my brother. I was careless and self consumed, and I am so, so sorry.”

“Thanks.” Picking up a chunk of his hair to braid, you focus on that to avoid his gaze. “I’m not mad at you for going out, y’know. It was really just a whole lot of craziness and bad timing.”

“That’s no excuse,” he quietly replies. “I’m so sorry. How can I make this up to you?”

“You don’t have to.” You smile down at him, poking a finger into his cheek. “Really, it was just bad timing. I mean, when have you not gone out with Thor and come back tipsy? Plus he said he needed to celebrate, so I really shouldn’t be surprised.”

He smiles, just the corners of his lips curling into your skin. “Fair point, but I think that just means you should be upset at the both of us.”

A content silence settles over the living room, the two of you huddled on top of each other to not fall off the couch. It’s a blissful moment of peace and quiet before Frigg wakes up, a moment of just the two of you that’s become increasingly rare.

Fingers lost in Loki’s hair, your mind wanders back to the leak in Elliot’s room and the broken pipe you’re going to have to pay for yourself.

“Loki?”

He opens one eye to glance up at you. “Hm?”

“I think we should move.”

At that, he shifts, practically laying on top of you to stare up at you playing with his hair. “Where to?”

“Anywhere.” Still focused on his braid, you don’t look him in the eye. “This place is too small for our family, and we shouldn’t be living in conditions like this. Plus you’re like, a king, so I feel bad for putting you in a dump like this.”

“Don’t feel bad,” Loki frowns, shaking his head at you—and messing up the braid.

“Hey!”

“Sorry.” He winces and quickly lowers his head again, letting you start braiding again. “Don’t you dare feel bad about me, I couldn’t have even begun to dream of having a life as wonderful as this.”

“But you always say that.”

“Because I mean it,” he mumbles into your neck, eyelashes brushing your skin as his eyes close again. “Would you like to move to Asgard?”

You fall silent, just crossing one little strand of hair over the other over and over and over.

It sounds great. In theory.

Moving a family of four to a different realm is a much more daunting task than it seems—there’s a bit more than just a time change involved.

“We’d all have to become immortal, right?”

“Only if we choose to become royalty again,” he replies.

“Is that even an option? After…y’know.” You swallow thickly, wishing you hadn’t brought it up in the first place.

“All I’ve done?”

You just nod, glad his face is in your neck, hidden from sight.

With the churning of his insides, Loki doesn’t want to answer you—and luckily, he doesn’t have to.

Little footsteps come clambering into the living room before either of you have a chance to say anything more.

Frigg’s crying. Again.

“Why you not in bed??” She sobs, lifting her arms up to Loki, little fingers grabbing for him. “Daddy, you not in bed!”

Sitting up, he chuckles and lifts her into his lap, quickly wrapping her in a hug. “Your mother and I slept out here. See? Now we’re just closer to the kitchen for breakfast.”

“I looked for you,” she sniffs, nuzzling into his chest. “You weren’t there.”

“We’re right here,” you assure her, “we’ve been here the whole time. Are you hungry?”

The little girl nods, rubbing her face into Loki’s shirt. You bite back a laugh; he silently blanches, his look of feigned disgust morphing into a chuckle at the tear-stains and snot-stains now striping his shirt.

Never would’ve thought he could be so thrilled to have snot rubbed across his favourite cotton shirt, but if it’s coming from his little girl, he can’t complain.

“Come with me, Frigg.” He presses a kiss to her forehead, pulling himself off the couch to carry her towards the kitchen. “What would you like to eat?”

“Waffle,” she mumbles, one little hand mindlessly winding itself into Loki’s hair. “M’still sleepy, daddy.”

“You can go back to sleep, sæta,” he murmurs—you sit up, trying to keep an eye on them—and when she nuzzles closer into the curve of his neck with a sleepy nod, your heart melts at the soft smile on Loki’s face.

“I’ll wake you when your waffle is ready.”

Damn it.

Nothing works quite like a little kid to remind you just how much you love someone.

“And you, my love?” His daughter dozing off on one hip, he pokes his head out the doorway. “What would you like?”

“Didn’t you say last night that you brought something home for the two of us?” You yawn as you stretch, pulling yourself to your feet.

He laughs with a nod. “Shall we start our day off with a drink, then?”

“Please.”

The two of you work your ways around the kitchen, Loki holding Frigg in one arm as she naps and he cooks, you pouring the strange liquor out of the elegant Asgardian bottle into two glasses and carrying them back to the couch.

Loki joins you a few moments after, setting the plates on the coffee table and carefully lowering Frigg onto the couch as she stirs.

“Cheers, my love.” He smiles, situating himself next to you on the couch and picking up his glass.

You lean back onto him with your own glass, clinking it against his as he presses his lips to your temple, an arm winding it way around your chest. “Love you, Lokes.”

“HEY!”

Frigg jolts upright before the rim has even hit your lips, a chubby little finger pointed right at the two of you. “Can I haff some?”

Loki laughs, gently pushing you off of him to stand back up. “Give me just a moment, sæta.”

“Loki,” you call out after him, hurrying to set your glass down, “she’s three, she can’t have this—”

“Apple juice,” Loki replies with another laugh, reemerging from the kitchen with a green sippy-cup in hand. “It’s just apple juice. The best drink for when your three years of life are already adding up.”

Frigg reaches for the cup with a quiet whine, little fingers scrunching up as she bounces. “Thank you!”

Grabbing his wrist with a laugh, you pull Loki back over to sit behind you so you can lean against him again. “Well, it’s tough being a three year old, isn’t it?”

“Mm. The absolute worst.”

“What a life,” you chuckle as Frigg tears into her waffle, not bothering with syrup—or a plate, for that matter. “Think she would like it on Asgard?”

He takes a sip of his drink, wincing at the burn of it going down. “Oh, she would love it. Have you seen the way she looks at the world? I can’t take my eyes off of her for one second when we’re outside, she’ll go anywhere she hasn’t been and probably never come back.”

Frigg’s bright, green eyes flit up to look at the two of you watching her, gnawing absently on the straw of her sippy-cup.

“There’s no better place to feed a child’s curiosity,” Loki quietly continues as he looks at her, thumb rubbing slowly over your shoulder. “Though some of my worst memories are housed there, it does me no good to dwell on them. Asgard is not to blame.”

“What about Elliot?” You lean over to Frigg, helping her rip apart a particularly stubborn chunk of waffle. “Seems like it’d be good for him. He’s not the biggest fan of this planet, I don’t think.”

Loki laughs, drawing you back into his embrace. “Do you remember the first time he experienced Asgard—besides as an infant, of course? I’ve never seen him so excited.”

“Yeah,” you smile at the memory, the stars in his eyes and dimples like craters on the moon. “We should ask him how he’d feel about moving.”

“We should. There’s no rush, love, we can leave for Asgard whenever we see fit. If there is any hesitation, I say we wait and continue our lives here, and if it is meant to be part of our journey, it will be.”

Your phone buzzes then, shattering the peaceful air resting over the morning.

Ah. The landlord’s texted you the plumbing company he’d like you to hire—“for your water problem,” the text reads. Oh, so helpful.

“Tell you what,” you sigh, tossing your phone back onto the table and settling back against Loki’s chest. “We give Earth two more years to impress us. If no obvious signs have shown up, no clear reasons for us to stay, we move.”

“And if we do stay?” Loki plants another instinctive kiss to your temple, eyes still trained on your daughter eating.

“Then we just…stay.” You tilt your head up to steal a kiss, fingers running along his jaw. “I mean, it’s not like this isn’t the dream life, either. I love what we have. Let’s just…keep open minds, yeah?”

Loki smiles, raising his wine glass. “You have yourself a deal, my darling.”

You clink your glass against his with a grin, undeniable butterflies already fluttering around in the pit of your stomach about what may come. “Deal.”

“Wait, I wanna, too!” Tossing her waffle aside, Frigg grabs her apple juice and scrambles over to plop herself right in front of the two of you.

“And are you in agreement, Frigg?” Loki chuckles. “Any terms you’d care to add, or is this a deal?”

“Deal,” Frigg giggles, raising her little sippy-cup to bump into your wine glasses.

“Well.” Loki takes one last sip of his drink before pouring the rest into your glass with a soft smile. “There’s no going back now, is there.”

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

feel free to send me ideas!!

if you enjoyed…what if i linked my venmo…haha no i jest…no obligations….just in case….u don’t have to ha ha…….unless… ??

~ masterlist link in my bio ~

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[unicyclehippo]

"Protection" for consecuted au? (:

The assassins had been caught long before they reached her chambers. A human woman, dark hair long around a moon-blessed face, pale and round and full. She would look lovely - sweet, even - if not for the look of absolute hatred in those eyes. 

‘You know who I am.’

It is not a question. 

‘Yes,’ the assassin spits. She lunges forward, strains against the silver-link chains that hold her in place. ‘Empress bitch.’

Leylas sits back in her throne. Casts a look over the half court that is assembled - half to see who is here to witness this, half to see how the woman deals with boredom as reaction to her vitriol. She pauses a moment on the dark-skinned human who leans so arrogantly against Den Druvkai’s throne - empty for the past few years, it is nonetheless not the place for the human who still refuses amnesis.

‘Consider me appalled,’ Leylas intones, tone flat with boredom. ‘What was your purpose here? To kill me?’

‘Yes.’

She considers handing her over to the Taskhand right then and there but notices Beauregard - always notices her - and the way the woman stiffens, eyes narrowed to keen attention. Blue eyes lift to hers and Leylas arches a brow.

Lying, Beauregard mouths. 

‘Liars are not kindly treated in the Dungeon of Penance. If there is something you wish to say, you can do so now. Or,’ Leylas moves her staff from one hand to the other as she shifts an inch forward on her throne and leans forward. From the momentary flicker of fear in the would-be-assassin’s eyes - and the look of veiled admiration in Beauregard’s that she has never in any life been able to hide well - she knows she cuts an intimidating figure. ‘My Shadowhand can pull it from you, along with your tongue when you are dead. Choose!’

The assassin grins. Blood stains between her teeth, drips down over her lips and down her jaw, splatters against the steps. She has done something to herself, Leylas realises in the same moment the guards do, something that is working fast to kill her, bleed her out right here in the Bastion, right at her feet. Leylas snarls, pushes to standing - only to stop at the assassin’s croaked words.

‘We know about her,’ the woman hisses in Undercommon, too harsh to ever pass for a native of Rosohna, each word drenched in hatred. ‘We know about your wife. An Empire girl. A human. Thought you hated our kind,’ she cackles.

Leylas has no retort. No answer. She stares down into eyes that begin to bleed, and has no retaliation to this. On the outskirts of her fixed attention, hands move - her clerics hurry to stem the bleeding, fix what has been hurt. Leylas pays them no mind. They’re too late. This woman is dying. Why is she tell her this? It’s certainly not a warning. A bluff? 

‘So be it,’ Leylas says. She doesn’t shrug - such a gesture does not befit the Bright Queen - but merely tilts her head dismissively. It is sweet, to see all the rage and the bitterness and the disappointment in the assassin’s eyes as she dies, thinking that Leylas cares not a bit for what she said. 

The pool of red has spread. It drips, in the silence of the court, down step after step, plinking in weighty droplets in a slow-moving cascade. It has soaked her boots and the hem of her cloak, Leylas notes as she glowers down at the dead woman. 

‘Your Majesty?’

‘Taskhand.’

‘What -’

‘Have the Grave Wardens call her back. Interrogate her if they can. Then dispose of her.’ Leylas lifts a finger when the Taskhand begins to turn away. He pauses. ‘Carefully.’

‘Your will, umavi.’

‘And Nozir?’

‘Majesty?’

Leylas lifts her eyes finally to where Beauregard had been last - leant against the throne. She isn’t surprised to find that the woman is bent over the would-be-assassin now, less than four feet out of Leylas’s reach. Leylas flicks her eyes to Nozir, nods meaningfully.

He has no love for humans; has lost a love and a life of his own to the Empire and their consuming greed. He nods back to her anyway, not far off a bow, and departs to alert the Grave Wardens of their expected guest. 

‘What was that about?’

Beauregard. Of course she would not have missed the exchange. 

‘Taskhand Nozir is arranging for the interrogation of -’

‘After that.’ Beauregard has the nerve to cut her off. ‘The super secret nod.’

Leylas nods to the clerics, who have given up their attempts at bringing the assassin back by means short of a resurrection, and to the guards who lift and carry the body and its chains away. 

‘I’m just going to follow you,’ Beauregard warns her when Leylas turns toward her antechamber, and despite the scene they had just witness, she grins when Leylas levels a stern look her way. 

‘Of course you will.’

Beauregard follows her into the antechamber. Steps right up behind her and dares to lift the mantle of her cloak from her shoulders without asking, without warning. Leylas doesn’t flinch. It may look like a flinch to the other woman, it must because Beauregard gentles, unties the binds with careful, slow fingers, shows her motions long before she follows through on them. 

It is not a flinch. 

There was a moment when Beauregard was close that Leylas wanted nothing more than to take her in her arms and pull her close; there was a moment when that would have been allowed, would have been expected. There was a moment when the removal of her cloak would have been nothing but a lingering, putting off the embrace because she could, because she enjoyed pushing Leylas’s buttons. But this version of her doesn’t know these things, this version of her hasn’t experienced the way a dozen lifetimes of love can roar through her, burn every other thought out of her mind. And so when Leylas moved to embrace her without thought, she came up against her own control - forced herself to stop. 

Beauregard drapes the stained cloak over the barren desk. 

‘I know a way of getting stains out of stuff.’ She touches the soft white, grimaces. ‘I can give it a go, if you want.’

Leylas remains perfectly still save for dark eyes that track the woman across the room. ‘Taskhand Nozir will assign a guard for you and for your friends while you are in Rosohna.’

‘You’ll need a whole tub of vinegar probably,’ Beauregard continues as though she hadn’t heard. ‘Cold water. Then the harshest soap around, the kind that lathers.’

‘You will not try to dodge the guard or leave them behind.’

‘I will.’

‘You will not,’ Leylas snaps, and she feels something click in her jaw when she clenches her mouth shut hard at the sheer obstinance on Beauregard’s face. ‘This is for your protection - ‘

‘We’re on the Empire’s shit list already. We can handle -’

‘You are not yet a target for being the Queen’s Consort!’

‘Mighty big assumption there.’

‘They won’t care if you have been through amnesis. They won’t care if you remember, Beauregard - ’

‘It’s Beau,’ she snaps, finally dropping the half-amused, half-challenging expression. ‘Beau. Not fucking Beauregard.’

Leylas lets a harsh breath out her nose. ‘Beau,’ she agrees. Feels the familiarity of the name prickle over her tongue - she’s not allowed this, not yet, she can’t have this until Beau gives it to her, she doesn’t want it if she doesn’t get more later - and quashes the flurry of questions that rise in her mind about this woman, her dislike for her name, everything that Leylas has missed of this life that she desperately wishes to know. ‘They won’t care if you accept who you were. They don’t care about you.’

‘Seems familiar,’ Beau grumbles.

‘They care about how I feel for you. And you must understand - they will do anything they can to harm me. If you walk unguarded, you make yourself a target. With a bow atop your head.’

‘Nah. The bo’s on my back,’ she laughs, gratingly, harsh, and so obviously amused with her own joke that Leylas squeezes her eyes shut and hates the tiny smile that pushes up one corner of her mouth. ‘I don’t need the protection. We don’t need it.’

‘Beau -’

‘But fine. I’ll take ‘em now.’

Leylas blinks her eyes open, surprised. ‘What?’

‘I said I’ll take ‘em. I’m not stupid,’ Beau tells her forcefully. ‘I understand. You make a good point.’

‘I am the Queen.’

‘What’s a Queen without her Captain?’ 

‘Sad.’

Beau blinks. Drops her gaze to the floor. She clears her throat, pulls the conversation back to safer ground. ‘I get it. I’m a target if anyone knows. If.’

‘We can’t risk -’

‘That they didn’t get word out somehow,’ Beau agrees with a jerk of her head. ‘Yeah. I figured.’ She drags a hand through her hair, the other propped on her hip. 

It’s such a purposeful show, her posture, seemingly so lazy, so arrogantly open as if in challenge for someone to try and strike her, but Leylas can read the readiness in every line of her. 

How very different she is from her past lives. How very similar. 

‘We’ll talk about it. Me and the Nein.’

‘That is...all that I can ask of you. And that you stay vigilant.’

‘Always.’

‘Very well.’

Beau is silent a moment. Then, ‘You want me to clean this cloak for you or what?’

Leylas frowns. Waves a hand. The red dries to brown and flakes into nothing, sifts into the air and away from the cloak, leaving it as pristine as before. The other woman looks impressed - and some other expression Leylas can’t quite place. 

‘Right. That’s a no.’ Beau gives her an awkward nod - not the slightest attempt at a bow, so arrogant this life is - and steps out from the antechamber without a look back. There is the shift of metal on stone as guards fall into step beside her, which fade as Beau takes her leave. 

Leylas wipes at her face when the door is closed. Ice cold sweat has beaded just at her hairline and she dabs it away. The urge to follow, the urge to see that Beau makes it back to her house safe - the urge to keep her here, at Leylas’s side, in her chambers, to not let her leave the Bastion at all - is intense, strangles her throat until her breath comes shallow and sharp, stabs into her lungs. She twists, half-collapses with braced arms against the desk and the soft cloak Beau had carried with such admiration. Digs her fingers into it and breathes. Again. And again until the moment passes. 

She will have Nozir double the scrying upon the guest house. And invite Beau - and her Mighty Nein - to the Bastion in the morning to discuss matters. Not just to assure herself of Beau’s continued existence. 

[johnsbleu]

Hold My Hand: John Wick x Reader Chapter 75

warnings: none hmh masterlist

Today is probably one of your favorite days so far weather wise. The sky is blue, scattered with puffy white clouds, and there’s a nice cool breeze. It’s not too hot, and it’s not too cold. It’s just perfect. Even more perfect since you won’t be sweating because you’ve decided to wear jeans.

You’re leaning back against the wall of a building waiting for John as he parks the car down the road a little. There was no where to park near the festival so John dropped you off and parked around the corner. You finally see him walking towards you, and you perk up a little when you make eye contact.

John is wearing jeans and a simple light gray t-shirt, but it nearly takes your breath away. You’ve looked at John’s face almost every day for nearly a year now, but you’re still not over how handsome he is. His cuts on his face are fading, and his hair is a little longer than usual, but he looks so fucking gorgeous.

He reaches out for your hand and smiles, “Ready?”

“Yup!”

Music is filling the air as you and John make your way through the festival gates, and there are booths on both sides of the road filled with all sorts of crafts. You don’t even know where to look because there’s so much to look at, but your focus is immediately drawn towards the flowers on the side of a shop.

Tugging John’s hand a little, you point over at the flowers, “I kinda want some flowers.”

John moves you to stand behind him as he pushes through the crowds of people, then he reaches for your hand again when you finally get in front of the shop. He picks up a bouquet of sunflowers and hands them to you, smiling as wide as he can.

“They’re beautiful.” you say, looking them over.

“Just like you.” he smiles, and you roll your eyes. “What? You knew I was going to say something like that, didn’t you?”

“Yeah, I really should know better by now.” you laugh and watch John as he hands the woman behind the booth a few dollars.

Almost every booth you walk past has something that catches your eye, and you’re half tempted to buy everything you see. There’s another booth that doesn’t have anyone at it, and you notice the woman behind it looks a little bummed, so you tug John’s hand and lead him over to it.

“Soaps!” you smile and bring a cube a soap to your nose to smell, “Ooh, I smell…vanilla.”

John nods his head as he smells it, then he grabs a small bag for you to fill, “Get some.”

You happily fill the bag up with soaps, then you and John continue your way down the street. You’ve kept your eyes peeled in case you see Shiloh and Gia, but so far, you haven’t. You spot a bench under a tree and point to it for you and John to sit down.

“Man, something smells good.” John says, looking around to find the source. He perks up a little more and smiles, “Ooh, baby, they have those big pretzels that you like. You know those kind you always get at the mall? You want one?”

“I kind of do.” you laugh and look over at John, “Are you gonna get something?”

John nods, “I’m gonna figure out what that smell is, and I’m gonna eat the whole booth when I do.”

You laugh loudly and tilt your head back when John leans down to kiss you. He starts to walk over to the booth, then he turns around and points at you.

“Do not move from here. I can’t lose you.”

“You always say that.” you laugh, and John gives you a disapproving look. You smile and shake your head, “I won’t move, I promise.”

__

John is still gone, probably still trying to track down the smell. You’re looking at your phone at all the pictures you’ve posted on social media so far, and you’re finally replying to a few people who have texted you. Amanda, Grace from the shop, and your mom. Tess had texted you earlier while you were getting ready to leave, and you completely forgot to text her back.

Goose! I miss u so much, I can’t wait to see u again and tell u all about this place.

You open the text to reply when someone puts their hands over your eyes, “John, I hate this game.”

“It’s not me.” he laughs, and you pull one hand away from your face to see John standing in front of you. Whoever it is puts their hand over your eyes and you hear John laugh again.

“Gia?”

John laughs, “Nope.”

“Uh…” you feel the hands on your face and perk up, “No fucking way!”

Turning around, you see Jimmy and Tess standing there with smiles on their face, and you immediately get up to hug Tess.

“Holy shit!” you cup her face and laugh, “What are you doing here?”

Tess laughs and moves to sit on the bench, “We came to this festival and we were sitting on a bench over there, and I was like ‘hold on, that’s John’, Jimmy didn’t believe me, and I was like, ‘no, literally, look, it’s John’. And it was John just standing in line at a booth.”

“I’m so happy to see you!” you say, then you hug Jimmy. You sit down next to Tess and touch her belly, “It’s been like 3 days, but look at your belly!”

“I just ate a corndog, a slice of pizza, and had a root beer float. I’m on vacation, so I’m going all out with the food.”

“As you should.” you laugh and look over at John as he hands you your pretzel and drink. “How is your place? Do you like it?”

Jimmy sits down on the ground in front of you and laughs, “It’s so nice. We went horseback riding the other day, that was very fun.”

“Yeah, our place is really nice.” Tess nods, “It’s really quiet there too. There’s never anyone around, so it’s just been Jimmy and I having this whole place to ourselves. It’s been really nice.”

“Tonight we’re going to lay under the stars.” Jimmy smiles as he looks at Tess.

You smile, “That’s really sweet. So you’re not far from here then? I mean, if you knew about this festival.”

Jimmy shakes his head, “It was about a 20 minute drive.”

“About 10 for us.” John says, and he smiles when you perk up to see what he’s eating, “Pulled pork sandwich, want a bite?”

You nod your head and lean forward to take a bite of his sandwich, then you cover your mouth as you chew. You smile to yourself when you spot Gia and Shiloh, who has her face painted to look like a butterfly.

Shiloh sees you and takes off running, then she stops and slowly sneaks up behind John. You’re praying like hell he won’t turn on assassin mode when two unfamiliar arms wrap around his neck. Tess furrows her brow a little as she watches Shiloh sneak up behind John, and John is so into his food, he isn’t even paying attention.

“Gotcha!” Shiloh says, wrapping her arms around John’s shoulders as best as her tiny arms can.

John looks over his shoulder and smiles, “Hey, you. Whoa, look at your cool painted face!”

“I’m a butterfly!” she says, flapping her arms and spinning in a circle.

“You look pretty cool!” John says, smiling wide as he watches Shiloh jumping up and down.

“Who the hell is that?” Tess asks, leaning closer to you.

Laughing quietly, you lean over to Tess, “That’s Shiloh, her mom is Gia. She owns the tree house we’re staying in.”

Gia walks over and shrugs, “I can’t keep her away from you two!”

“Hi, Gia.” you smile and gesture to Tess and Jimmy, “This is my sister, Tess, and her husband, Jimmy.”

She reaches out to shake their hands and sits down next to John, “I’m Gia, and this one is Shiloh. She’s also very obsessed with John and Y/N.”

“Hi, Shiloh. I’m Jimmy.” he reaches for her hand and shakes it, “You look so cool with your butterfly facepaint. I might have to get one!”

“You could be…uh…” she tilts her head, thinking, “A tiger!”

Jimmy nods, “I like it, maybe I can convince my wife to take me to get my face painted.”

Shiloh looks at Tess and smiles, then she looks at her belly, “You’re having a baby?”

“Shiloh.” Gia scolds her.

Tess puts her hands on her belly and laughs, “I am having a baby.”

“When?” she asks, scooting between you and Tess on the bench.

“Pretty soon, like in a month.”

Shiloh gasps and looks over at Gia, “Mommy, you should have another baby.”

Gia scoffs, “Yeah, I’ll think about that.”

“I have a goat named Nancy.” Shiloh says, looking up at Tess.

Tess laughs loudly and looks at Shiloh, “That is a wonderful name.”

Gia sighs and looks at Shiloh, “Love, we should get going. Mama will be home soon and you probably want to show her your cool butterfly face, huh?”

Shiloh hops off the bench and flaps her arms as she walks back over to Gia, “Yes, mommy.”

“Hey, you,” you call out to Shiloh, and she turns around, “Are we still havin’ a pool party tomorrow?”

Shiloh squeals loudly as she jumps up and down, “Yes!”

“It was nice to meet you, Shiloh.” Tess says, then she looks at Gia, “You too!”

Gia reaches out to shake her hand, smiling, “Yeah, you too.”

You watch as Shiloh wraps her arms around John’s neck and hugs him, and you smile as big as you can when John hugs her back. He taps her on the nose, then he watches as she flaps her arms and runs down the sidewalk in front of Gia.

Tess sighs loudly and sits back a little on the bench, “So, when are you two going home?”

“Uh, two days, I think?” you say, looking at John as he nods, “Yeah, two more days. Kinda sad to leave it all behind, but Mill Neck will be having their summer festival soon, so we have that to look forward to, you’re due next month, John and I have a wedding to plan for. So much stuff is coming up. I guess it’s best that we kinda get back to our lives, huh?”

“You’re planning your wedding already?”

You shrug and look at Tess as you begin to smile, “I have a day set in mind, which I’m going to keep to myself until I talk to John about it. We want something small for the ceremony. I mean small. Smaller than yours, so probably only about 15 people. Maybe even less.”

“That’s a good idea though. You know, just people that you care about.” Tess nods.

You shrug again, “Well, John won’t have many people there and I don’t want it to just be our family, so it’ll probably just be mom and Dan for the wedding. Then I suppose more extended family for the reception.”

Tess stands up from the bench and stretches her back, “Hey, babe, we’re gonna walk around a bit, okay?”

Jimmy looks away from John and nods, “Yeah, I’ll be here.”

You smile at John and touch his shoulder as you walk past him. Tess is starting to waddle, and her belly is seriously showing today. She looks pretty damn cute. You wouldn’t even know she was pregnant unless you saw her bump though.

“Sorry, I have to get up and move.” she says, looking at the booths as you walk past. “He’s moving so much lower, and I’m getting so much bigger lately. He’s ready to come out, I’m hoping I’ll make it to 40 weeks at this point.”

“He wants to meet his mommy.” you laugh and look at a booth with jewelry, “Oh, these are cute bracelets.”

Tess holds up a necklace with an F on it and smiles, “I think I’m gonna buy this. How cute is this?”

“Very cute.” you look through the jewelry more, and you suddenly remember Shiloh telling you that John needs a ring. “I wonder what John’s ring size is.”

“Can I help you?” the man who owns the booth ask, looking at you.

“Uh, well, I want to get a ring for my fiance, but I don’t know his ring size.” you laugh and point at a ring, “That one looks nice. It’s just kind of plain, but I like it.”

“I think Jimmy was like a 10. John is probably like, a 11.” Tess smirks, looking at you, “He has thick fingers.”

You roll your eyes as Tess laughs, “Yeah, I’ll just get a few different sizes.”

You pull the money out of your purse, then you tuck the rings away so John won’t see them. Looking over your shoulder, you see Tess standing at an ice cream stand, so you walk over to join her.

The two of you head back over to John and Jimmy, who are still sitting on the grass and talking. John tilts his head back as he laughs, then he looks over at you and reaches for your hand as he gets off the ground.

“Hey, peach.” he smiles, leaning down to kiss you, “You got ice cream.”

“Mhm.” you nod, giving John some.

Tess leans against Jimmy’s shoulder and smiles, “You two aren’t leaving anytime soon, are you?”

“Hell no,” John laughs, “There’s a whole lantern thing happening later.”

“Wait, a lantern thing?” you look at John, and a smile spreads across your face, “Like the lantern thing I told you that I wanted to do a long time ago?”

“Yes.” he nods, then he reaches for your hand as he begins walking away.

__

The field is full of kids running around and people sitting on blankets. You didn’t know you were coming here, so you didn’t pack a blanket, but John, of course, did. He sets the blanket down on the ground, then he sits down and pulls you in between his legs.

The sun has started to set and the breeze is beginning to get colder as a result. You shiver a little as you lean back in John’s arms, and he wraps them around you more to keep you warm.

Tess is sitting on the edge of blanket, looking at everything she bought at the festival, “Oh, I got this cool cute little rock thing that looks like a ladybug for mom. Thought she’d like it in her garden. I got…a necklace, you were with me when I bought that. I got this cool painting that we’re going to put in our living room, but it’s in the car.”

“Yeah, it’s like a cool painting of a tree.” Jimmy says, watching Tess look through her stuff.

Tess looks up at you and smiles, “What did you get?”

You look at Tess and tilt your head back as you think, “Uh, I got some flowers, which are in the car. Probably dying. I got some soaps, John got this cool sign with a W on it. We can put it on our front step, or in the garden in the front of the house, that’d be cool. John and I got these cute little stockings for Christmas that say Mr. Wick and Mrs. Wick.”

“What?” Tess gasps, “Where was that? I want one for us!”

You point across the street at the Christmas booth, “Literally right there.”

Tess looks behind her, then she looks at you and rolls her eyes.

“I can walk back and get us one.” Jimmy suggests, “It’s just across the street.”

John nods, “I can go with. Grab us something to drink.”

“Oh,” you tilt your head back and look at John, “Okay.”

John presses a kiss to your lips, then he stands up and walks with Jimmy across the street. You watch the two of them until a big group of people block your view and you lose track of them. You turn back to Tess as she smells the candle she bought, and she holds it up to your nose.

“Smells good.”

She nods, “That is does. So, you had no idea that we were so close?”

“Tess, I literally almost had a panic attack when I woke up the other day because I had no idea where I was.” you say, looking at her, “I was like…hiding in a corner when John found me.”

“I told him not to do that.” she laughs, “I told him ‘don’t surprise her like that, John. She’ll be freaked the fuck out’, but he clearly didn’t listen.”

“He almost cried when he realized how scared I was. I felt so bad, and he’s just been clinging to me every day since. I felt bad because he felt so fucking bad. He’s been trying to make it up to for days now. I can’t deny that it really is sweet that he did that though. I had picked the tree house for you, I figured you and Jimmy would think it was cool. But I guess when John realized how much I liked it, he changed his mind and brought me to it instead.”

Tess laughs, “See, this is why I adore him. He’s so sweet.”

“He is.” you nod as you look at Tess, “It’s almost like neither of us want to go back to Mill Neck. I mean, we do, we love our life there. We own a book store, we can’t just…leave. But I don’t know, I think it’s starting to kind of settle in that our lives are going to change soon.”

Tess furrows her brow, “Your lives are going to change?”

“Well, yeah, we want kids. It’s not just going to be John and I anymore.”

“Trust me, it’s not as dramatic as you’re making it out to be. Jimmy and I can’t wait to have Finn. It’s gonna be fun!” Tess puts everything back in her bag and laughs quietly, “Gia’s nice, by the way. Shiloh is so adorable.”

“God, I know. Isn’t she?” you laugh as Tess nods her head, “She was smitten with John the moment she saw him, told him that he could have one of her bandaids for his cuts on his cheek.”

Tess puts hand over her heart, “That’s so cute.”

“Yeah. I won’t lie, I think John somehow knew they had a daughter, so he planned this whole thing. I already said yes to babies, I don’t know why he’s pushing it so much.” you laugh.

“Have you decided when you want to have a baby?”

You nod, “I want to start trying soon. I really want to get pregnant within the next year. I told Jimmy that I don’t want Finn and our baby to be far apart in age since you and I obviously aren’t, and you and I are closer because of it. We’re only a few months apart, but obviously that’s not going to happen since I’m not pregnant.”

“Imagine you and I both pregnant at the same time.” Tess shakes her head as she laughs, “The boys would have their hands full.”

“They really would. Maybe the next time around for you.” you smile, perking up when you see John walking back over. You notice he has a bag in one hand and he hands it to you before he sits down. You take it from him and smile, “What’s this?”

“Just a little something for the future.” John says, sitting down behind you again. “It’s for the both of you.”

You set the bag between you and Tess, and you both reach in to pull out two little gray stuffed bunnies. You smile as you look over at John, then you lean back to kiss him.

“For the baby.” he whispers in your ear, and you nod your head as you hug it tight to your chest, “I saw it and thought it’d be cute to give to our baby someday.”

Tess smiles and holds up the bunny, “They match. That’s so sweet. He isn’t here yet, but Finn will love this.”

You lean back in John’s arms and hold the bunny close to your chest when you see several lanterns floating in the sky. Several more begin to float through the sky, and you sit up a little when someone walks by selling lanterns.

John reaches into his pocket and pays for two for you and Tess, then he sits down next to you, “I don’t know what to do with these.”

You laugh and reach into your purse for a pen, “Well, I don’t know either, but I know sometimes people write wishes and stuff on them. We could do something like that. I don’t think there are any rules.”

“Do what you want, John.” Tess says as she writes on her lantern. “I’m writing something about my amazing husband and my baby.”

You look at John and laugh, “Yeah, do what you want, John.”

“Okay.” John says quietly, then he takes the pen from you and writes on the lantern. He stops writing to read what he’s written so far, then he begins to write again. He smiles to himself, then he looks up at you and hands you the pen, “Your turn!”

“Can I read what you wrote?” you ask, and John nods his head. You scoot over a little closer to John and smile as you read what John’s written.

To my beautiful fiancee, you have changed my life more than you’ll ever know. Not a day goes by that I don’t think about you and thank my lucky stars that you’re in my life. I will be forever grateful for you and for the life that we have, and for how you’ve accepted me for me. You’re my girl, and you’ll always be my number one. I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life with you, and I can’t wait to see what our futures holds. Yours always, Jonathan.

You look up at John, who is looking particularly proud right about now, and you reach out and cup his face, “I love you.”

“I love you more.” he smiles, then he presses a quick kiss to your lips, “Your turn, baby.”

“Oh, right.” you tap the pen against your head as you think about what you’re going to write. To be honest, you’ve been out in the sun all day and your brain is kinda turning to mush, so you hope John won’t be too offended if you don’t put too much into it.

Jonathan Charles Wick, I don’t know where to even begin. I love you endlessly, and I am so beyond happy to have even met you. I don’t know how I got so lucky, and to this day, I still don’t understand what you even see in me, but I’m glad you see something worth your time. I can’t wait to marry you and fill our home with even more laughter and love, and so many babies! You’re going to be the best husband and father, and I can’t wait to see you tackle these roles. I love you so much. Yours always, peach.

“There.” you smile and tuck your pen back in your purse, “I will admit, I’m a bit sleepy, so it might be kinda shitty. So, I apologize.”

John looks down at the lantern to read it, and he smiles when he gets to the end, “You call that shitty?”

You shrug, “Not as good as yours.”

“Bullshit.” he laughs loudly and wraps his arms around your waist to pull you closer, “It was perfect, and ten times better than mine.”

“Well, thank you. I’ll take the compliment.” you laugh, tilting your head back to kiss John.

The two of you stand up to light your lantern, but before you let it go, you and John both pose for a picture. John has his hand over yours as you hold the lantern and he presses a kiss to your cheek.

“Ready?” he asks as you nod, “Okay, on the count of three. One, two, three…”

Watching the lantern float into the sky, it joins the others and you lose sight of it as it’s swallowed up by the other lanterns floating nearby. John wraps his arms around your waist and the two of you continue to stand together and watch the lanterns filling the sky.

__

“Tonight was so much fun.” you say, propping your feet up on the chair in front of you.

“It was. I liked the lantern festival, the sky looked so cool.” John steps onto the balcony and places his hands on your shoulders, “It was fun to let one go with you.”

You tilt your head back to look up at John, and you smile when your eyes meet, “I agree.”

John leans down to kiss you, then he moves to sit in the chair next to you as he takes a sip of his beer.

“So, remember the other night how I said I had something really important to talk about, then I just joked that I wanted dessert?” you ask, and John nods his head. “Well, I really did have something important to talk about, but I didn’t really know how to go about it and how to even bring it up.”

John furrows his brow, “Now I’m really intrigued.”

“I say we get married this fall. I have a specific date in mind, so you let me know what you think about the fall.”

John nods, “I think fall is great! Won’t be too warm or too cold. The colors in the fall are nice.”

“I was thinking that maybe September 5th would be a good day.” you say, and the smile on your face grows when John realizes. “It’s our anniversary of the day we met, and I think it’d be kinda sweet. It has meaning to us, I don’t want it to be just some random date. I mean, I know that you give a random day meaning when you get married, but I don’t know. Is that dumb?”

“No, no, I think it’s great.” John smiles and presses a kiss to your cheek, “I think it’d be a great day.”

“So, September 5th, you and me?”

“You and me.” he nods, looking at you, “You think a little over two months is enough time for you to plan a wedding?”

“Yeah, plenty of time.” you say, nodding, “I want our ceremony to be small and intimate, so that’s no big deal. And I want our reception to be pretty laid back.”

“Again, whatever you want to do, I’m fine with.” he says, laughing a little, “I just want to marry you.”

You look at John, holding his gaze, then you lean over to kiss him, “I just want to marry you, too. I can’t wait to see how handsome you look. I bet you cry when I walk down the aisle.”

“Oh, I will.” he laughs, nodding his head, “I definitely will. You’re going to be the most beautiful bride ever.”

You look down as you smile, then you look up at John again, “There’s something else I wanted to talk to you about, but I’m really kinda nervous.”

John scrunches his eyebrows in confusion, “Don’t be nervous, baby.”

Taking a deep breath, you let it out slowly, then you look up at John, “We’ve been talking more about babies lately, and if we want to get pregnant within this year, and we want to get married in September, I was just thinking…”

John nods his head, waiting for what you’re going to say. He looks so nervous, you just want to hug him tight. You reach over to the table and grab the bunny that John had bought earlier, and you smile as you look at it.

“I was thinking that maybe it’s time I stop taking my birth control. Now listen, we won’t get pregnant right away, I need to be clear about that. It’ll take my body a few months to get back to its normal rhythm, but…I don’t know. What do you think?”

John widens his eyes and smiles, “Really?”

“Yeah, I mean, I’m due for my period next week, but after it’s done, I don’t plan on going back on birth control. I’ll probably schedule an appointment to make sure everything is okay…in that area, and then maybe my doctor can kinda…I don’t know, tell me when I could get pregnant. I’ve been on birth control for so long that my body will be a little out of sorts for a few months as it adjusts to me not taking it anymore.”

John sits back a little and looks at the ground as he processes what you just told him.

“Is that okay with you? You still want to have a baby, right?” you ask as you move to sit in his lap.

He looks up at you and nods his head enthusiastically, “Yes! Of course, peach, yes! I’m just…speechless. I can’t believe so much is going to happen over these next few months.”

“I know.” you laugh, “Tess and Jimmy having a baby, the shop, us getting married, us trying to get pregnant, I don’t even know what else could happen in between all of that, but it might be a little stressful. Think we can handle it?”

John looks up at you, holding your gaze for an intense moment, then he leans up to kiss you, “I think we can handle anything.”

“Wanna know what I think?”

He nods, “Yeah.”

You take a deep breath, leaning back against John’s chest, “I think you’re a very, very cheesy man.”

“Where do you want to get married?”

Shifting in John’s lap a little, you turn around so you can see his face, “I was thinking just the backyard would be nice.”

“The patio still has all the lights up.”

“Actually,” you smile and shrug, “I have an idea, but at the end of the day, it’s your house. I know what you’re about to say -- that it’s our house. Yes, I know, but my idea…isn’t a simple one.”

John laughs, “Okay.”

You move back to your chair and scoot it closer to John, “So, I was thinking, well, we never use it, and I don’t have no intentions of using it, but the tennis court…”

“Yeah, waste of space.” he nods, sighing a little.

You shrug, “Yeah, but I thought maybe we could just…tear it down and use that for our wedding. I don’t know. We could put some canopies up and hang lights from it, then after the wedding, we could use it when we host barbecues and stuff. If it’s a dumb idea, tell me. And please, don’t be afraid to say no. It is our home, but you lived there first, so please say no if you hate the idea.”

“No, I actually think that’s a great idea. When are you and I ever going to use a tennis court? I can’t see you out there.” he laughs, then nods his head, “It’s a great idea. We could get someone to come and lay down some bricks maybe, and we can have some trees planted out there so we have some shade as well.”

“Get a nice little fire pit for out there, and after the wedding, we can get some nice chairs and a love seat for out there.” you smile and scoot closer to John, “It would be perfect for our wedding, for a…baby shower. Birthday parties.”

“Okay, okay. You’ve twisted my arm enough.” John teases.

You laugh loudly and sit back in his lap as you kiss him, “We can talk more about wedding shit later. I can stress about all that when we get home. Until then, I just want to sit in your arms and look at the stars.”

“That’s a good idea.” he whispers against your cheek, then he wraps his arms around you and holds you tight as the two of you look up at the dark sky that’s scattered with stars.

__

@tnu-ree​​ @dangerouslystrangecrown​​ @weird-civilian @callmeglenncoco @sanctuarygirl​​ @meetmeinthematinee​​ @jessicajones616​​ @artistic-discontentment @cheekybluefox​​ @jazzyboo2001 @starsstripesandthesouth​​ @a-small-independent-princess @thepastrecedes01​​ @rubywantsafuitgummy​​ @sterekislyf​​ @lostandfaceless​​ @sweetgoodangel​​ @racharr @star017​​ @ladyren33​​ @whatcolourisanorange​​​ @lunaticgurly​

[misstinfoilhat]

Saw your prompt list and thought I'd drop a suggestion: Kakashi with "don't let them see me cry" - especially if it involves young team 7

I merged this with @selspeaks :  Kakashi: Don't let them see you cry. Bonus points if Guy is in there somewhere annoying him

I tried my best to incorporate both of these!

Oh lord. I don’t even know what this story is. This went from angst to angstier, angstiest to dark af, to fluff, fluffier, fluffy mcfluffypants to what-the-fluff-even?

I don’t know. I hope you all like it though!

--

With a sharp intake of air, Kakashi shot up and leaped out of bed. The bedsheet caught on his feet and he tumbled, darted back up, and shot for the bathroom where he swiftly tugged his mask down and heaved alcoholic liquid into the bowl. Shaky hands grasped at the toilet firmly.

For two days, Kakashi had been unable to leave his apartment. In those 48 hours, less than four of them had been spent sleeping. The other 44, was tossing and turning, trying to relax his body and clear his mind, or, spent drinking an ungodly amount of sake, in the hopes of eventually pass out and catch a few hours of uninterrupted sleep.

But nothing seemed to work.

When he felt himself being done extracting the meager contents of his stomach out, he flushed and closed the lid, but paused for a moment to inspect his hands.

His fingers were soft, long, delicate. Clean, unmarred, and milky. Not at all like a shinobi's. It was because Kakashi always wore gloves. He hated the appearance of those hands. They were hands that hurt people. That killed. Hands covered in blood. 

Rin's blood.

Whenever he remembered that day, his hands would be covered in blood all over again. First, in short flashes. Coming and going in the blink of an eye.

Then, it didn't disappear. No matter how many times he'd blink at them.

That was when the washing started. Hours upon hours of scrubbing his hands raw. The blood never went away, and the more he scrubbed, the more it would bleed until he realized that it was his own blood that covered his hands and not Rin's.

This had been an occurring problem since that day, and it had only become worse once Minato, his last lifeline, had died.

Somewhere insides Kakashi's musings, there were knocks on his door.

Suddenly, it was like he woke back up. As if he had just now become aware of his surroundings. But, he knew he hadn't slept. 

Confused, he stared down at the sink, the sponge he'd used, and his irritated skin. It had happened again.

The knocks on his door became more rapid, and a voice far, far away was yelling his name and Kakashi knew he should answer and knew he needed to stop cleaning his hands.

But he simply couldn't. Not before all his dirty skin had been peeled off. Not until it bled. It wasn't clean enough until there was nothing left at all!

Another voice joined in, yelling his name. The knocks were harder; like hail on your window during a storm. The voices pulled at Kakashi and he wished he could answer them, follow them instead, but he was sure that if he didn't get the blood away, these hands would hurt everything he loved. Everything that was left.

And, logically, he knew that he was the one controlling them. He knew they wouldn't go off on their own and hurt or kill anyone he didn't want them to kill.

But, what if?

What if the constant reminder of what he had done to Rin, how he failed to protect her, or save Obito and how he hadn't been enough to keep his father from committing suicide, would drive him mad?

Kakashi absently realized that the knocking had stopped, and the voices calling out for him had stilled. For some reason, he felt a bit sad about it. Like the intrusive yelling was something comforting and nice, not noisy and disruptive. It reminded him of something or someone. 

Its absence left him in silence. A loud, strangling, ear-piercing silence accompanied only by the running tap and the scratching noise emitted between the cloth and his palms.

Why wasn't it going away?

The rubbing intensified. The motion was becoming stronger and more forceful, almost static, and it stung which was good because that meant that he was close to...

Close to what exactly?

Kakashi realized he was panting. Reality came back to him like a droplet falling from the sky. Cold, unavoidable, grey. Blinking, he gazed down at his sore, scratched-up hands. The one holding the rough sponge opened, letting the yellow foam fall into the sink. Reluctantly, he lifted his gaze up and peered into the mirror, where he met a horrid sight.

His face was unmasked in a twisted grimace. The long, angry scar he got the same day Obito died glowed as if it was laughing at him. Red, puffy, glazed eyes and charcoal orbs glistened dangerously.

And the sounds. The sounds had been his students, coming to look for him. They had to be worried about their sensei, now that he hadn't bothered showing up to practice in several days. It must have taken them a long time finding his apartment, and he had ignored them to indulge in whatever-the-fuck he had just done, the selfish jerk he was.

He stared intently at his reflection. The blood-shot eyes that met his glare were pitiful and made him furious. How long had he been standing here? 

«Stop crying, you fool,» he sneered lowly, trying to keep the trembling in his chest away from his voice. His eyes squinted shut, chasing away unshed tears.

«I said...» A deep breath. «Stop... fucking crying-»

Someone kicked his door in as Kakashi's fists hit the mirror, shattering it into a million little pieces, dancing around him like flickering snowflakes.

«Kakashi!» an alarmed voice roared from the livingroom. Heavy footsteps moved quickly across the floor.

Kakashi hit the wall where the mirror had been, slicing his knuckles on the sharp left-over pieces and couldn't hold back his winch.

He was pathetic. Pathetic, sad, weak, and a horrible human being. He didn't deserve to live. Why did he get to live when Rin and Obito didn’t?

Two strong hands grabbed a tight hold on his shoulders and pulled him back. Kakashi whirled around, trying to tear away.

«Kakashi?» The voice was deep, Kakashi recognized it but couldn't focus. Feeble, bloodied fingers tried to pry off the larger, tan, callused ones that held him still, and Kakashi was unable to keep himself from thinking that they looked clean and felt an instant need to wash his hands again.

«Kakashi!» 

He had made the voice angry. It sounder wrong like that and he knew he had fucked up, just like he always did and it probably wouldn't have happened if he had cleaned his hands---

«S-so much blood,» he mused in a whisper.

His head shot back.

For a moment, he sat there dumbly, unable to take in what had just happened. He rose a strangely painful hand to feel his heated, burning cheek but paused when he noticed the newly ripped flesh scattered across his scarred hands.

Turning them, observing all the healed crisscrossed marks and raw skin curiously, he wondered where the soft, unmarred hands from earlier had gone.

He felt the comforting touch on his shoulder return. Dark eyes looked up to meet two concerned beady eyes under a set of furiously bushy eyebrows.

«Gai? What...» Kakashi muttered perplexed but interrupted himself as he took in his surroundings. The shattered glass on the floor, the mess of soap and water, the bloodied streaks all across the bathroom. «It happened again.»

A sad smile tugged at Gai's lips and he nodded. “Yeah.”

«Oh, God,» Kakashi groaned agonizingly, curling in on himself and shrugging Gai's arm off.

«Shit!» The tears were back, and he struggled to contain them. He refused to let them fall. He couldn't let Gai see him cr---

«...kashi-sensei?»

The surprise of hearing that voice made him straighten his back, instinctively pulling up his mask before looking towards where the sound was coming from, where three heads appeared, lingering warily by the door.

«Were you attacked?» Naruto bellowed loudly as he noticed the state of the bathroom, looking over his shoulder for a possible intruder. His throwing arm itched eagerly by his side pouch.

«I guess you could say that,» Kakashi muttered to no one in particular.

«Don't worry, sensei! I'll get them!»

Naruto bounced off, but Sakura grabbed his jacket and held him back, shaking her head disapprovingly.

«Stop that, stupid.»

For a short while, there was silence once more. It was probably not more than a few seconds, but it ached like days, so Kakashi cleared his throat.

«I-I guess this looks a bit strange,» he drawled slowly and rubbed his neck, smearing the blood through his unruly silvery mane.

«Yes,» Sasuke answered immediately, folding his arms across his chest. The kid always looked suspicious, a bit like he always smelled a fart, which Kakashi bemusedly had thought once during training and proceeded to giggle himself silly as the preteens stared at him incomprehensively.

A bit like now.

They wanted an answer, he knew. Sympathized with it, even. But he had no idea how to give them one.

«I-» he started hesitantly, «I'm not sure how to explain this. And, I'm guessing that none of you would believe me if I came up with some silly story anyway. But I just...»

Again, that tight hold around his heart appeared. The heavy, painful, strangulating feeling of not being able to breathe. The same one he had years after his father passed and an even longer time after Obito and Rin died. It hurt more than a punch in the gut.

«Kakashi-sensei, are you...» Sakura asked just as Gai gently ushered them outside. 

Kakashi wiped the streaming tears off his cheek with his sleeve when Gai returned. Kakashi didn't know what he said to them, but when he came back, it was without the kids.

«I am so sorry, Kakashi. I had no idea that this is what was happening. I should have asked them to stay at the training grounds while I went to check on you by myself.»

Kakashi, still seated on the floor with his knees pushed up to his chest, hiding his watering eyes with his hand, chuckled.

«No. You'd have to tie them up to prevent them from doing whatever they want to do anyway. And unless it's for the genin exams, I'm pretty sure you would be breaking some sort of code if you did that.»

«Actually, I'm pretty sure you're not allowed to tie a student down during the genin exams either,» Gai muttered perplexed. Kakashi simply stared back.

«Huh.»

Despite himself, Gai hummed a small laugh as he started rummaging through Kakashi's well-stocked medicine cabinet, pulling out disinfectants, gauze, and rolls of bandages.

«Let me see your hands,» Gai required softly, and Kakashi obeyed reluctantly, letting his right hand fall limply into Gai's giant palm.

«Several of these will require stitches,» Gai murmured patiently as he cleaned Kakashi's wounds.

«Maa, I'll do it later,» Kakashi waved him off while Gai rolled his eyes.

«No, you're not doing anything. I will take you to the doctor so it can be done properly. Not that half-assed quick-fix stuff you did in ANBU.»

Kakashi didn't dignify that with an answer. His half-assed quick-fix stuff had saved many lives, his own and Gai's included! Was everyone grateful? Yes! Were the wounds all horribly infected and disfigured after? Well, that wasn’t relevant!

«I really think you should see a doctor, dear rival,» Gai said with the slightest hint of his trademark energetic personality back.

«Jeez, fine. I'll go,» Kakashi sighed, but held his breath when he noticed how sad Gai seemed. Apparently, the energy that he had centered into his voice hadn't quite reached his eyes yet.

«Not for that. Well, that too. But for this,» Gai lifted Kakashi's hand up for a moment, indicating towards the wounds.

«I don't usually self-harm, Gai.»

«I know, that's not what I meant either. That OCD stuff that always happens after a bad mission. And those panic attacks- whatever it is- that you're experiencing. It's no good. You can't live like that. I worry that someday you're gonna...» Gai stopped himself from finishing that sentence.

Kakashi looked away in shame.

«Do like my father,» Kakashi whispered. «I know.»

Gai started bandaging up the right hand and silently asked for the left one once it was done. Kakashi didn't say anything as he offered it, placing it gently into the welcoming palm. They didn't talk while Gai kept working, and Kakashi's mind was running.

He could hardly remember what had happened. Was that how Sakumo had felt before he stabbed himself? Had he too gone into some strange psychosis and let his own self-hatred be in control? Was that what Kakashi was doing? He knew he wasn't in control, at least, he didn't think he was. And Kakashi truly didn't want to die by his own hands, let alone imagine what something like that would do to his students.

They had lost people in their lives too.

«I'll go to the doctor,» Kakashi croaked finally, watching Gai's expressive brows rise and curve excitedly, like an expressive labrador.

«Really?»

«Yes.»

«So I won't have to drag you there against your will?»

«What makes you think you even could-»

«Thank you!»

Gai threw himself at Kakashi, cotton balls with antiseptic flying and the bottle tilting, spilling half the fluid out. Strong arms wrapped around Kakashi's shoulders and pulled him into a tight bearhug, nearly knocking the breath out of him.

«I told you you didn't have to restraint and force me there,» Kakashi hummed in a mix of discomfort and relief before pulling away. Unwillingly, Gai let go and wiped a tear away from the creak of his eye. 

Rustling from outside brought their attention away for a moment, before Gai hurried to wrap up Kakashi's other hand so they could check what the fuzz was about.

«Ngh, gah! Naruto! Your elbow is in my face!»

«Your shoulders muffled my ear! I couldn't hear anything!»

«That wasn't because of my shoulder, but from all the cotton you have for brains!»

«Will you two shut up? I'm trying to hear what they're talking abo- Ah!»

Gai dragged the door open, successfully making three noisy kids leaning towards it tumble onto the floor, laying there in a dazed heap for a moment before jolting back up.

«Kakashi-sensei? Are you okay now?» Naruto cried boastfully, jumping over to help Kakashi up from the floor. Kakashi ignored the gesture and pulled himself up, noting that he felt a slight hangover.

Good, he thought. At least I've sobered up.

«Better,» Kakashi replied truthfully, noticing how Sakura was eyeing his hands timidly. «I'm sorry for worrying you. That wasn't my intention.»

He smiled softly at her, and she seemed to perk up at that, so he decided to rest his hand on her head for a moment, just to see what it was like.

Two brightly pink cheeks beamed up at him, and in an instant, she was entangled around his torso, hugging him tight enough to rival Gai. Before Kakashi had even realized what was going on, Naruto had joined in, pressing himself to his other side while chubby, sunkissed hands grabbed at the fabric of Kakashi’s black shirt.

Sasuke stood ambivalent with his arms crossed, observing the ordeal with little to no interest, while Gai bawled his eyes out, leaping a few steps forward, ready to join in.

«Don't you dare,» Kakashi glared dangerously, and Gai turned in his step and switched his focus on Sasuke, deciding that no one should ever be left unhugged, and trapped the boy in a huge, forceful embrace, seemingly untouched by the violent death threats and obscenities spilling out of the boy. 

As much as Kakashi was touch-avert and uncomfortable by affection, he recognized this as an important moment. Not only for him but for his students (it might not be for Sasuke; this particular moment, but in the long run, maybe) too. 

Kakashi wouldn’t tell them the gritty details. They were unimportant, but mostly, he truly didn’t want to. But he realized one, really important thing. 

What had made Minao a great teacher, was his heart. And a heart contained more than just strength. It also held love and hurt. Vulnerability.

Kakashi knew he wouldn’t change overnight. Maybe not ever. 

But if this was even one step closer to being the man Minato would want as his son’s mentor, half the man Minato was, then, Kakashi would do whatever it took to become that man.

---

End

[slash-em-up]

Marry Your Monsters Pt. 11

What’s that thing they say about the best laid plans?

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

Miranda was beginning to understand how Spann had gotten so far in Jesse’s business.

The woman was a terrifying marvel.

After Lisa and Miranda had agreed to do whatever they could to aid Jesse/protect Miranda/fuck up Preston’s hostile take-over plans, Spann had immediately put them to work.

The pair were barricaded in Spann’s office, pouring over every single contract and document Preston had signed or presented in the last three years.

Well, more like, Lisa was scanning the Organization’s archive and Miranda was reviewing the legal-ese.

Spann had also conjured up Miranda’s bag - and she was more than happy to change out of her shredded, sweaty, bloody dress into a pair of clean jeans and a tee-shirt. Feeling more like an actual person than she had in several hours, Miranda was fully focused on the screen before her - absorbing each tiny detail of the documents and noting anything even slightly suspicious on a notepad. She had nearly filled this one. Preston had been a very busy boy.

It also offered an emotionless peek behind the curtain of The Organization’s dealings - which was the only way Miranda felt she could process things right now. Even so, as dispassionately as it was laid out, it was still hard to read.

God, how could she have been so blind?

She’d been married to a serial-killer for over four years and she hadn’t suspected a thing. It would have been embarrassing if it wasn’t so damn sad.

Throughout their engagement and their marriage, Jesse had seemed dead-set on keeping his promise to make her the happiest woman in the world; and when he’d asked if she’d thought about having a baby she hadn’t hesitated. They’d be the perfect family.

Of course, every couple had their problems - she just hadn’t expected the gilded glow of her own to tarnish in quite the way it had.

It would have been so much easier if he’d just been having an affair.

Her train of thought was interrupted by Lisa laying a gentle hand on her shoulder.

“Hey, you doing okay? Do you need a break?”

Miranda gave the dark-haired woman a small smile. Maybe it was because they were in very similar situations; but she’d immediately taken a liking to Lisa.

“No, I think the work is helping me stay sane right now; but I’d kill for a cup of coffee.”

Miranda winced. Well, she couldn’t use that particular hyperbolic statement anymore.

Lisa grinned, giving her stomach a look, then raising an eyebrow back at the blonde.

“And would that be spiked or…”

A small chuckle escaped as Miranda looked woefully down at her pregnant belly.

“Spiked, with a side of jalapeno poppers. It’s been a hell of a day.”

Lisa laughed.

“I’ll get you some hot water and lemon. Basically the same thing, right?”

“Right.”

The other woman left, leaving Miranda to return to the contract she’d been perusing.

She was interrupted again as a loud electronic shrieking sounded out from the hall speakers.

Reflexively, her hands shot up to cover her ears until the reverberating sound of a tearful female voice echoed over the din.

‘Mom! Mom… I don’t…where I… find… PLEASE!’

Fuck, fuck, fuck…

Miranda stood, pacing as quickly as she could toward the office door before coming to an abrupt halt.

This was exactly the kind of thing that would get her killed… or captured… or whatever the fuck Preston wanted with her. Honestly it was like a badly written action movie. Female lead goes off and does something stupid - gets herself taken - hero comes in, guns blazing and saves the day.

The summer blockbuster formula almost made her gag. And she very much doubted that Jesse would be in the rescuing mood if her grand scheme ended with whoever he’d kidnapped escaping.

Miranda paced the room, biting at her thumbnail, waiting as long as she could for some kind of sign that she should take action.

A loud scream echoing down the hall clinched it.

She was about to do something very, very stupid.

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

Jesse sincerely hoped he never had to play poker with Spann. She would win, hands down.

They both sat in Jesse’s office as Spann assisted him in the now pitifully difficult job of shaving his head.

She’d found him standing over the razor and steaming bowl - bare-faced and glaring down at them, trying to work out how he was going to be able to do this himself.

Mirrors were for people with faces… and potentially hazardous self-grooming was for people with two functioning eyes.

God he really was pathetic.

Preston’s assistants face had been blank and still as she’d asked to shave him; which was probably the only reason he hadn’t gutted her simply for walking in on him.

She hadn’t offered him pity or framed it as her ‘helping’ him.

He appreciated that.

It also gave him an opportunity to check in on what his traitorous fixer was up to.

‘It’s not the mask that’s intimidating… it’s the man behind it…’

While Jesse did actually agree with the statement, the fact that is was coming from Preston was pretty fucking hilarious.

‘Kills three people and he thinks he’s Michael Myers…’

“He’s mocking you now? He decides who lives or dies?” Spann sounded disgusted.

‘It’s time for a change in personnel, just not the one Preston wants.’ Jesse signed, tilting his head so Spann could scrape the sharp metal over his temple.

The woman didn’t pause in her careful movements; but Jesse could see the slight tilt of her lips as she absorbed his words.

“You’re making the right decision.”

She gently toweled the soap from his scalp, running her hands over it to check her work.

“This will all go smoothly.”

Jesse stood from the chair, towering over the small woman who’d just earned her place at his right hand.

‘Take care of it; but leave Preston to me.’

Spann smiled.

“Yes, sir.”

Stepping over to his computer, Jesse took great joy in telling Preston he was out - Spann leaning just barely out of the camera’s eyeline to appreciate the look of shock and horror on Preston’s face before he casually flicked his camera off.

If the pair had been paying a little closer attention to their other screen, they just might have seen a shape move awkwardly out from behind a coffin and make their way slowly closer to Jessica and Tommy.

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

This was a bad idea, this was a bad idea, this was a bad idea…

Miranda could have slapped herself for being so impulsive. What the hell was she thinking? Even on her best days she was far from sneaky, and it was even harder to slink around when you couldn’t see the floor to avoid tripping hazards.

She bent down as low as she could to hide behind an open casket lid while she waited for Preston to finish talking to a half-naked girl.

Miranda winced in sympathy as Preston got close to the poor kid. She looked terrified, and with good reason.

The boy Preston had dragged in looked like he was down for the count too.

She wished she’d taken a moment to grab Jesse’s knife from the office - the damn thing was the definition of ‘style over substance’; but it would have been better than nothing.

Thankfully, she was close enough to hear everything Preston was saying.

He really was that much of a prick, huh?

A surprising surge of protective anger flooded through her as she listened to Preston go off about Jesse.

‘Hey, that’s my fucking serial-killer you’re talking about, asshole!’

Miranda groaned silently.

She’d deal with that particular bullshit after the girl was safely out of here… And then she’d deal with the other flavors of bullshit this whole mess had turned up, not the least of which was protecting her serial-killer from the OTHER serial-killer who was staging the murderer’s equivalent of the Russian Revolution.

“This is gonna be over quick, alright? See one way or another, one of us is going to slice you.”

Preston smashed the boys head into the concrete floor before hoisting him up and walking him over to a large bank of computer screens.

Miranda shifted slightly as Preston spoke casually into the still air.

“Hey boss, you ah, you recognize this kid? He was with the girl in Ashville?”

Oh fuck, that’s why he looked so familiar.

He was the boy from the store. He’d been there when Jesse was trying to kill the prostitute.

She had to get them out. There wasn’t any question in her mind.

A sharp beeping from the largest screen brought Miranda’s attention back to the scene. A familiar silhouette filled it, and what Jesse wrote next was… surprising.

YOUR POSTION AT

THE ORGANIZATION IS

NO LONGER REQUIRED.

Then the screen went black.

Preston stood, frozen, staring at the blank monitor for a few seconds as the two captives sat tearfully at his feet.

When he did move, Preston bent down, muttering something to the pair too low for Miranda to hear, before stepping out of sight.

Miranda made her move.

As slowly and quietly as possible, she slipped out from behind the casket lid.

The sneakers she’d replaced her sandals with made the barest of squeaking noises as she tip-toed over to the bound pair.

It would be a lie to say the comical widening of the boy’s eyes wasn’t a little funny - but she supposed it was fair to say he probably wasn’t expecting an enormously pregnant woman with bruises and a bandaged arm to come to their rescue.

If she���d heard correctly, the girl was legally blind… or almost… so she wasn’t surprised that she was a little slower on the uptick than her fellow captive.

But when the girl did notice Miranda had to jolt forward to cover the girls mouth as she inhaled sharply. She couldn’t risk too much noise, and she offered the girl an apologetic look when she finally lowered her hand.

“Sorry.” Miranda whispered.

“What the fuck?!”

Tommy scooted back on his ass to get a better look at her.

“Jesus, lady what are you doing here?!”

Miranda frowned.

“None of your fucking business. Just know I’m here to help. I’m gonna get you out.”

The girl looked up at her with watery eyes.

“I’m Jess.”

That nearly made Miranda snort. Of course she was. Hopefully Jessica would be less trouble for her than Jesse.

“I’m Tommy.”

“And her name is Miranda.”

A voice from behind caused all three of them to freeze, Jess and Tommy looking fearfully over Miranda’s shoulder.

Fuck. She knew this would happen.

“Hello Preston.”

Miranda stood, turning slowly to face the man in black; making sure to keep the kids behind her.

“Did you come back to clean out your office? I heard you got the shaft. Too bad.”

Preston smiled, showing all his teeth as his hands formed into fists.

“Ah yeah, Jesse gave me my walking papers. But what in the world are you doing down here?”

Miranda circled as Preston did, making sure he always stayed in her direct line of sight.

“Me? Oh, you know, bored housewife. Emphasis on the bored. Thought I’d take a little stroll.”

Casually, Preston pulled a familiar bladed tool from his belt, making Miranda’s heart beat faster.

“Well, I’m so glad we could run into each other like this. Pretty fortuitous.”

“…Oh?”

“Mmhmm… see, I think this is gonna go one of two ways. Either your hubby is going to come down here to the rescue - at which point I’ll cut his ugly face off again - and make it stick. OR he won’t, and I’ll carve the fucking baby out of you and let Jesse deal with the clean-up. Either way, it’s time for a little payback.”

As soon as the words left his mouth, Preston charged.

Miranda screamed, uncaring if the whole facility heard her, and ran.

She moved as quickly as she could back towards the hallway, nearly grasping the handle before Preston was on her.

His arms wrapped tightly around her chest as they rammed into the metal, making her yelp in pain and wrap her hands protectively around her stomach as she writhed in his grip, trying everything she could to break free.

Her foot collided with his knee, causing him to hiss out a curse and momentarily loosen his grip.

Miranda shifted, trying to use her weight to unbalance him; but it was too late.

One hand wrapped unforgivingly into her hair and Preston slammed her head into the metal door once, twice, three times until Miranda’s vision began to fade and her muscles relaxed.

The last thing she saw before everything went black was the steady red blinking of a security camera.

[takonei]

Beta AU - Main story, Chapter 3, daily life (Part 2)

Note of the author: It’s motive time bois.

Chapter 3: What is beyond humans’ control - Daily life

Day 10 since the beginning of the game. 8:00 AM.

Shuichi woke up at the morning announcement. he slept better than expected, thankfully.

After taking a shower, he got dressed up to join the others in the dining hall.

Just as he left his room, he saw Angie leaving her room as well.

“Oh, hey Angie.” he yawned.

The girl span around so fast she almost tripped on her own feet. “G’morniiing!”

Shuichi chuckled. The two started making their way to the dining hall together.

“Apparently you helped Himiko and Kokichi making statues yesterday?” he decided to start a conversation.

She nodded. “Yeah! I taught them how to use chisels and hammers and woodpeckers and a lot of other tools!”

“I see,” he smiled. “That must have been fun then.”

She grinned. “Although they’re not the best at it, it was their first time!”

There was a short silence.

Shuichi didn’t know if asking her about her island was a good idea, but it was worth a shot. “Hey... I know this is probably a touchy subject for you and I won’t force you to talk but... How was it back there, sculpting?”

But when he looked at her, her eyes were empty. She had stopped in her tracks. “... I wish I could slaughter Atua with my own hands for all the shit he put all of us priestesses through. Just cutting him like Monokuma cut Maki with the scissors and watch his-”

The violinist couldn’t believe what she was saying. He wanted to put his hands on her shoulders, but refrained from doing so. “Angie! I-”

He paused. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have talked about this.”

She stared at him silently for a moment, then took a step back. “I told you, didn’t I? This is all behind me now! Now I can live with you all here in the academy!”

Shuichi didn’t know how to respond. He wanted to leave but seeing Angie like this made him feel sad. He had a family to go back to, but for those like Kirumi and Angie, this was a whole other story.

“Let’s... Just go to the dining hall. Miu and Kirumi probably already made breakfast.” he couldn’t look at Angie in the eyes. “But please consider talking to Kiyo about all of this. He can try to help you just please...”

He looked at her with pleading eyes. “Talk to someone about this.”

She looked at him with dumbfounded eyes, but then smiled. “Sure thing! But you don’t have to worry about this, Shuichi!~”

They finished their walk in silence.

When they reached the dining hall, Shuichi hoped to see breakfast ready and some of the others here to brighten up the mood.

Unfortunately, a way more confusing scene unfolded in front of his eyes.

Ryoma was in the corner of the room, curled into a ball, Rantaro desperately trying to talk to him.

“Ryoma please- Are you feeling okay??” he asked.

“S-Stay away from me! What did I even do to you?” the small man shakily replied. That was... Unusual.

Miu was a few meters away. She subtly approached the two.

“What’s going on with him?” Shuichi whispered to her.

“No one knows what’s going on. Ryoma looks afraid of everything and everyone, Tsumugi seems to have amnesia and we’ve been trying to understand the situation for twenty minutes. The two also have a huge fever from what Rantaro said.” she replied, as confused as him.

The others came in one by one, and explaining what was going on was impossible.

Rantaro was desperately trying to resonate with Ryoma, but it was useless.

Kirumi tried to talk to Tsumugi, but all she got from her was “Who are you?” and “Where are we?”

Once everyone got into the dining hall, the monokubs popped in.

“My goodness! That’s obviously bad!” Monophanie exclaimed.

The students turned to the bears.

“Teddy bears?” Tsumugi asked, confused.

“What did you do to them??” Miu yelled.

“Ahem! It looks like you want some explanations...” Monotaro said.

“Yeah no shit.” Kaito glared at him.

“MEET-YOUR-NEW-MOTIVE. THE-DESPAIR-DISEASE.” Monodam explained.

That didn’t seem to answer a lot of questions.

“We... May or may not have let some tiny insects inside the academy and it looks like they find you all appetizing!” The pink bear rubbed the back of her head.

Rantaro sighed. “Quit your bullshit. This is obviously your doing. No existing disease infects people that differently.” he glanced at Tsumugi, quietly sitting on a chair and Ryoma, curled up in a ball in the corner of the room.

“How dare you assume we’re lying! Bears never lie!” the red one raised his metal paws up in the air. “Anyway. It’s a really annoying disease where you get a high fever, along with various symptoms!”

Monodam pointed at the two sick students. “TSUMUGI-HAS-THE-AMNESIC-DISEASE. RYOMA-HAS-THE-COWARD-DISEASE.”

Kiyo put a finger on his chin. ”So basically the opposite of their normal personalities.”

“But be careful! Sometimes the despair disease can get passed from person to person just like a cold!” Monophanie put her paws on her cheeks.

Rantaro’s eyes widened. “And it had to be contagious of course.” He approached the bear. “And what’s the cure?”

“THIS-DISEASE-DOESN’T-NEED-A-CURE. IT-WILL-HELP-EVERYONE-GET-ALONG.”

“That’s right! It’s in the most difficult situations that you guys help each other. We thought that would help you all!”

Everyone fell silent. The absurdity of the statement was way too much.

The cubs, noticing the sudden tension in the room, chanted their catchphrase and left.

Shuichi glanced at Rantaro. He looked beyond mad. He took a deep breath and clapped his hands once.

“We’re gonna have to isolate them for now. Except we don’t have a comfortable separated facility for them.”

Shuichi pondered. “So we’ll have to keep them in their own rooms...”

“This is going to be a nightmare to take care of them. I have stuff in my lab but if I have to walk from my lab to the dormitories each time they need something I’m not going to keep up for long.”

Kirumi was leaning against the wall, her arms crossed. “I know this isn’t the best place, but what about the three rooms on the fourth floor? We’ll have to transport stuff here but at least it’s closer.”

“That’s probably the best we can do for now.” He lifted his head to look at everyone else. “I’ll stay here to keep an eye on them for now. Please try to make two of those rooms as comfortable as possible for them. There are three beds in my lab. I’m counting on you for this.”

“W-wait...”

Kokichi raised his hand. “I d-don’t really know... M-Maybe I’m wrong but... I feel like I have it t-too...”

Himiko jumped. “Huh? Really?”

He nodded. “I... I feel dizzy a-and my head is spinning... But I don’t feel any mental change s-so I’m not sure.”

Rantaro approached him and put the palm of his hand on the small boy’s forehead. “You’re feverish. We shouldn’t take any risks.

He pondered for a moment. “Does anyone else feel sick, aside from Kokichi, Tsumugi and Ryoma?”

No answer. “Good. You guys prepare the three rooms while I keep an eye on those three.”

Shuichi turned to him. “Hold on, you're volunteering to take care of them until they get better? You think you can take the risk being infected?”

He turned to the violinist. “I’ve seen worse. I’m the ultimate medic, so don’t worry about me, alright?”

The two stared at each other. Shuichi nodded. “Thanks a lot, Rantaro.”

The rest of the students spent the rest of the morning transporting the beds from the medic’s lab to the rooms. They also took furniture and items from various rooms and labs to make the room a bit more comfortable and less creepy than before.

Lamps and books from Tsumugi’s lab, chairs from Kirumi’s lab, and some decoration and items from the other labs and the warehouse.

At least those rooms looked more like bedrooms than occult-ish rooms. Of course there wasn’t the usual comfort of the dorms, but it was better than nothing.

Shuichi let Rantaro guide the patients to their rooms. They were surprisingly cooperative.

Tsumugi, Ryoma and Kokichi... He really hoped those three would get better.

Shuichi went to Rantaro’s lab. It pained him a little to learn that he was going to do everything by himself from now on.

When he stepped in the room, he was wearing a mask and plastic gloves, carefully handling medicine, beaker and eyedropper in hand.

Once he saw the violinist entering the lab, he put down his tools to look at him. “Do you need something? It’s probably best if you don’t approach me too much, just in case.”

Shuichi winced. “I mean... We can’t let you do everything by yourself... Can we at least do something for you?”

“Shuichi’s right! I can’t just stay here and let you do all the work!” a feminine voice came from behind.

Miu had just appeared in the lab. But while Shuichi was calmly asking how he could help, the girl was clearly determined to do so.

“I... Want to help the others in this. I want to apologize for everything I did after the motive videos... Even though it’s just a little, I want to be useful.” She bowed to Rantaro.

Unfortunately his expression was almost unreadable because of his mask, but Shuichi could clearly see the surprise in his eyes.

Rantaro stood up. “Like I said it’s better if only one of us takes care of the patients, and I’m the most qualified for this. But...”

He paused.

“If it’s not too much to ask, could you please make individual meals for the ill ones and me? And perhaps bring me a sleeping bag since I’ll probably stay here for a while.”

Shuichi put a finger on his chin. “And you’ll probably need some clean clothes too...”

Miu quickly stood up, pointing two fingers to her temple. “Leave it to me!”

Rantaro smiled behind his mask. “However could you bring me dish soap with it? It would be bad to give you back contaminated empty dishes.”

Miu smiled. “Got it!” she turned her back to him, and added: “Make sure to take care of yourself, alright sweetie?”

The medic chuckled. “Alright, alright. Take care of yourself as well, okay?”

The street artist smiled and left. There was a visible blush on her face.

He turned back to Rantaro and giggled. “She really seems into you, calling you ‘sweetie’ like this...”

He shrugged. “I’m not really used to affection like that, but it feels nice. Although I don’t see her ‘that’ way.”

Oh.

“I’ll go for now. Just like she said, don’t overwork yourself, okay?” Shuichi said.

Rantaro gave him a thumbs up. “Don’t worry about me. We should be alright for now.”

-

The group spent lunch together, but there were four less people than what was supposed to be. Obviously Himiko looked worried for Kokichi, but Angie was keeping her company, so it was fine.

Afternoon came and with four less people around, the academy felt empty. But at least they were in good hands.

Himiko and Angie were once again sculpting items in the latter’s lab.

Kaito and Keebo were in the warehouse. The biker had tried to replace Tsumugi and Ryoma for his maintenance.

Miu and Kirumi were cooking in the kitchen some meals and snacks for the infected ones and Rantaro.

Kiyo was outside, not doing anything in particular, so Shuichi approached him.

“Oh, hello Shuichi. Do you need anything?” he asked.

He shook his head. “Not really. Just thought we could hang out.”

The two sat under the wisterias of the courtyard. They had a relaxing feeling, and Shuichi often saw Kiyo talking to people under here.

The violinist picked a flower and started fiddling with it. “What do you think about all of this? I’ve never heard what you thought about this situation.”

Kiyo looked at him. “About what exactly?”

“I would guess the disease... Rantaro said he didn’t believe the bears and said they were lying about the origin of the disease.”

The therapist pondered for a moment, staring at the void.

“... I don’t really know. To be honest I’m contemplating the possibility of the mastermind being one of the ill ones.”

Shuichi’s eyes widened. “Huh? You think the mastermind is either Ryoma, Tsumugi or Kokichi?”

“I didn’t say that I was sure, just that we should not exclude the possibility.”

The violinist frowned. “I’m not sure what you mean...”

“Let’s say the mastermind is the one who gave the ‘disease’ to us. We would obviously think they wouldn’t give the disease to themselves. So they could have just given themselves a fever and act like have the disease.”

Shuichi put his elbows on his knees, head resting on his hands. “But can we even be sure there is a mastermind among us? Maki’s execution still went on even though Monokuma was destroyed, and he came back right after...”

“I don’t really know about this part. We thought that the mastermind would go to the hidden room to summon another Monokuma, but Maki’s execution proved us that it wasn’t the case.”

Shuichi tried to think. “Maybe... They had a remote on them?”

Kiyo narrowed his eye. “That’s a possibility. But... Monokuma wants us to feel despair, right?”

Shuichi raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”

“Because Monokuma reappeared the next day the first time he was crushed, we assumed someone had to go in the hidden room to manually create another one, and they needed to wait until everyone was asleep to act.”

He nodded.

“But if Monokuma’s objective is to destroy our hopes, the mastermind probably let us hope he was definitely destroyed, then created another one to intensify the psychological effect. They could have been able to do it since the very beginning. However, since Maki’s execution was an emergency, they didn’t have time to think and immediately created another one.”

Shuichi lowered his head. “That’s messed up... But that doesn’t explain how they do so...”

“I’m not sure. The remote seems like a plausible theory. We were all in a panic when the courtroom was falling appart, so they could have done something without us realizing.”

That... Made sense.

“But if they can create another Monokuma whenever they want, doesn’t that mean there is a possibility they’re not among us and simply hiding in the hidden room?”

Kiyo hummed. “It’s possible, however since there is still a chance they’re in this group, I wouldn’t talk too quickly.”

Shuichi nodded.

“But to come back to what you said about the despair disease, what would the mastermind gain by giving themselves the disease?” he asked.

“To make us think they’re not one of them, at the risk of not being able to do anything since Rantaro keeps an eye on them at all times. But that would be quite the gamble.” Kiyo explained.

That was quite unlikely, Shuichi thought, but not impossible.

“And Rantaro... I can’t say for certain. He has a great influence on the others but I know a genuine speech when I see one. That’s what last trial proved me.” he added.

Shuichi remembered Kirumi’s words the day before.

‘Willing to listen’ and ‘trusting’ are two very different things. That’s what differentiates strategists and friends.

Rantaro... He was a strategist. He gave the key to his lab to Ryoma in case someone tried to get it from him. He knew another killing would happen and did his best to keep the group calm and rational. Even going as far as to expose the truth about the lack of benefits he would get by escaping. He also volunteered to take care of the ill students all by himself. It was clear he wanted to have a good influence on the group. To be in control of the situation, in a good way.

But him being the mastermind wasn’t something Shuichi wanted to think about.

A part of him also hoped Kiyo wasn’t the mastermind and said all those theories on purpose to confuse him.

The discussion felt tiring.

The two decided to drop the subject for now to talk about their respective lives.

-

Evening came. The rest of the group joined in the dining hall but Shuichi still felt like someone was missing.

There were 12 students alive in the academy. 3 of them were resting because of the illness and one was taking care of them. Yet only half of the remaining students were in the dining hall.

After a quick glance, Shuichi noticed both Miu and Himiko were absent.

Right after thinking that, the street artist entered the dining hall, alone.

“Where’s Himiko?” he asked as she sat in front of Kaito.

“She’s in front of Kokichi’s room and they talk through the door. She’s been at it for an hour now and I don’t think she’ll leave soon.” Miu explained.

Kaito raised an eyebrow as he was eating. “Rantaro doesn’t mind?”

She shook her head. “He said as long as Himiko doesn’t enter the room it’s fine. Also that she must be out of the way during his checks.”

She took a sip of water from her glass. “So right now they’re eating dinner separated by a door.”

Shuichi nodded. Rantaro probably knows more about him about what they should do.

After finishing dinner, since there wasn’t much to do, everyone parted their ways. However there was one last thing Shuichi needed to do.

He quickly looked at his monopad to see where the therapist was. He was outside, on a bench near the wisterias, as usual.

It didn’t take long for Shuichi to reach him.

“Hey, Kiyo?”

He turned to him. He seemed to have been lost in his own thoughts. “Do you need anything?”

He winced. This was a touchy subject, but he had to.

“I think you should try to talk to Angie... I’m a bit concerned about her.”

He explained the whole situation. What she told him in her lab and their discussion this morning.

Kiyo hummed.

“I see. If as you say she resents her home more than this entire killing game, then there is a high possibility she went through severe trauma.”

He stood up. “Thank you for telling me. I’ll talk to her tomorrow, since it is getting late.”

The two went back to the dormitories, hoping Rantaro would be fine by himself.

The disease didn’t need to make any more victims and suffering.

They could only hope for the best.

[into-crazy]

Man Under the Makeup Pt. 3

Arthur Fleck/Joker x Female Reader series

Warnings- Cursing, mention of carrying a weapon for protection, sad conversation

You can find the other parts RIGHT HERE and through the “Man Under the Makeup” tag lovelies!💘

Come 6pm, you were strolling to meet up with Arthur. Around this time, the sun normally sets, allowing you to walk just before the darkness of the night hits. How thoughtful of him not to have you roaming around too late. He of anyone would know these streets, after all. Although you can handle yourself, never leaving your home without your blade and some mase.

Few people seem to be making their way home after a grind filled day. Also those, who for a fact are heading straight to the bar. Judging by their distressed faces, they're in for a large amount of drinks throughout the night.

You're going through the route you normally take for work, keeping an eye out. Walking around the large piles of garbage scattered on some parts of the side walk. Covering your nose from the wretched odors which littered the air. These streets were disgusting! No wonder everyone in the city is pissed.

As you're nearing the spot you and Arthur encountered, you find him standing there waiting. Still dressed and with make on, Joker stands there with a flower bouquet. You find it quite cute how he's patiently awaiting your arrival.

"Y/n, you made it!" He starts excitedly.

"Of course I have," you reply, "why wouldn't I? Hope I haven't kept you waiting too long."

He offers you the flowers. "Not at all."

"For me? Why, thank you." Taking the bouquet made of various roses and lilies, you catch glimpse over at the crew he has behind him. About 15 members, gathered a few feet back. "You brought your men, I see."

"I did," he nods in their direction, "they're just for precaution. I got a lot a heat on me these days." He states anxiously shifting the weight between his slender legs.

"So I've heard." You reply waving at the crew who acknowledge your arrival. It's only polite to greet those who would be joining you, even if it's from a stretch away.

"I'll have them keep their distance. They won't interfere with our time." He assures pushing his green hair back.

"Oh no worries," you assure, "I have no issues with it."

The place wasn't far from where you'd met. It was a nice, quiet bistro. Well, maybe it was peaceful right now considering everyone left spooked when you and Joker walked in. His men also made sure the staff wouldn't try to leave or call the cops. So you weren't surprised when your waiter was practically trembling coming over to your table every now and then.

"So, Joker," you emphasize the name, "seems like you've made quite the image for yourself."

He chuckles, "It appears so. Ya know you don't have to call me that, right? We're by ourselves over here." Hinting towards his crew behind him- sat on the complete opposite side of the small eatery. They were doing their own thing, giving you both your respective privacy. Seated directly across him in the corner of the place. So you felt comfortable no one was eavesdropping in on your conversation.

"I'm aware," you tell him, "I'm simply addressing your new persona." Smiling, you take a sip of your drink.

"Right," he adds, "I've got so much to tell you."

"Hm, clearly." You reply removing your large coat, as it was increasingly warmer indoors. Revealing a red satin dress that hugged your body nicely.

"Wow." He was momentarily at a loss for words. "I gotta say, you look amazing my dear." Taking your sight in, admiring the beauty beaming off you. Not eyeing you like a hungry dog waiting for a treat- but genuinely appreciating what he's seeing. You're gorgeous inside and out, he couldn't help but think why you had agreed to dinner with him. Dressed up all so nicely, for him. "Red is definitely your color."

"I'm flattered," you accept his admiration, cheeks growing hot with delight. "You're quite charming yourself, Mr. J."

"Charming? Me?" He questions the word, seemingly confused. Unable to grasp the concept of anyone ever thinking such. He's been deemed the worst insults, in addition to horrifying and intimidating. But charming? And what about.. Mr. J? Oh, he can't deny loving the sound of that.

"Yes, you are. It's- you're different and I like it." You tell him. "But I have to ask, what happened since the last time I saw you?"

He sighs placing his hand on the table. "See before, I've got tired of being pushed around and stepped on. People are so awful, I finally hit my breaking point. This city's lost it's way. So I decided to do something.. differently."

"And what is that?" You give him your full attention as the topic becomes more serious.

"To show the people of this city what life really is." He amusingly states. "See, most haven't quite gotten it yet. They believe I'm doing it for a change in who's running the city. That I'm going to fix everything that's wrong." The sarcasm in his tone may try to sound amusing, but his eyes show something else. His eyes are dark with that last statement. Cold and dark.

"And you're not?" Briefly pondering his words. "No. No, you aren't." You say, shaking your head slightly.

"W-what was that?" He asks scanning your face.

"Of course that's what they believe. It's what they want, right? Some bold new guy comes around to make a difference. But from my perspective, that's not your intention."

He taps his fingers on the table, fighting the urge of a laughing fit. Rising up from the pit of his stomach- catching it in his throat, before it has a chance to emerge. "And m-may I ask what you think?"

"I haven't figured it out yet," you start, "but I know fixing the city isn't the case. The riots, the mobs, the brutality- which happen to be chaos you helped reign. I understand that the wealthy politicians and citizens have their fair part in it, too. But one does not simply seek for so called better change, when that's how they choose to take a course of action."

Joker adjusts himself so now he's leaning forward on the table. Closer to you, trying to show he's not intimidated. "That's a good observation," he acknowledges, "and it's got you wondering the real reason, right?"

"Yes," you reply softly. "Look, I'm not judging. I'm interested is all."

He embraces your curiosity. "I want to show them the funny side of the bigger picture. The world.. this terrible city, this life we're living-" he pauses, "It's a joke. And the sooner people realize that, the happier they could be. It's all simply for laughs, my dear." Shrugging his shoulders at the last statement.

All for laughs? Somehow you thought that wasn't entirely it.

Something else had to have happened. How could a man's eyes that once carried so much emotion go completely dark? Grasping the fact he wasn't telling you entirely why. Maybe it was this "Joker" persona, currently preventing him from letting you in. You'd have to ask these questions when you're speaking entirely to Arthur.

"And to make that work, you had to change?" You recall. "Adopt a new identity?"

"Yeah," he confirms. "As Arthur, I could never have it off. They wouldn't take me seriously and use everything to their knowledge against me- Gotham PD, politicians, those that disagree. But not with the Joker."

"No one knows who the Joker is," you almost whisper looking down at the table. If only the rest of the world could see him as you've seen him- still see him. Maybe if everyone wasn't so shitty with sticks fully up their asses, then perhaps they could've seen the man you thought him to be. Could things have turned out differently? Honestly, who knows.

"No one," he adds, "accept you." He brings your face back up to his- which is intensely close. The heat of his body enticing you further into him. The scent of cigarette smoke and soap strong on him. Gazing onto his bright red lips, you thought he was going to kiss you.

Only to be left surprised when he quickly shys back, leaving you in a bit of a haze. He sits completely back in his seat- seemingly entertained with your response to his withdrawal. You scold him for it.

"Nice to see you're so interested." He implies with a short laugh, flashing a killer grin.

Embarrassed, you lean back into the bar seat. Damn him. How could he make you feel so vulnerable when you'd least expect it? Along with the audacity to gloat about it with his ridiculously gorgeous smile. He knows. He knows exactly what he's doing.

"What makes you so sure of that?" You playfully question him crossing your arms.

"Well for one," he states, "you agreed to meet up with me."

"Yeah, and I was half expecting a man with a lot less makeup on then myself." You tease leaning onto the table.

"And yet, here you are. Sitting across, having dinner with me." He winks putting a cigarette in his mouth. "See the point I'm getting at?"

You huff at the remark. He's toying with you, he's gotta be. "Alright then, fair enough. I'll give you that. But don't sit there and act like I'm the only one."

"I didn't say that," he sneers flicking the lighter until it lights the stick. "I know you're wondering what it is about you that's captivating me."

You hum waiting for a response, "I am."

"I like how you're not afraid to say what you need to say. Mindful for others, but you don't take shit from anyone. I admire that. And also- don't mind me saying- your fascination with a freakish man like myself."

"I don't think you're freakish," you interject. "Different yes.. But I don't perceive you as a freak."

"You don't?" His reply comes out softly. His whole demeanor eases- relaxing his shoulders. It reminds you of that shy man he's holding inside. What a shame to think he might not fully come out anytime soon. Joker could not be seen as too much of a "softie" by the public or his loyal crew. Noo. It wouldn't be good for his image. You need to be completely alone with him if that were to happen. For now, your quiet corner conversation will have to do.

"I never have." You make it very clear to him. "I never thought of you as a freak Arthur. Not before. And not now." You lay both of your hands above the table. He melts with you calling him by his name for the first time tonight. Even more so when he's started coming out of it. He puts the cigarette butt out in a small ashtray by the side.

You take his speechless silence as a sign to continue. "I've noticed you were absent lately.. As I walked by that same spot everyday, and not seeing you there- it concerned me."

He moves his hands closer to yours atop the table. Hesitant in getting too close. "You.. looked for me?" Arthur's heart flutters at your caring words. The fact you noticed that he was gone. No one has ever paid attention to his existence like such- before the Joker that is.

"I did," you continue, "and I grew even more nervous after seeing that clip they played of you on the television.. with Murray making fun of your stand up performance.."

He gently lays his rough hands on top of yours, lightly squeezing with awe. Needing to feel that you were real. To know you are really here, and not an illusion of his mind.

You need a second, looking off to the side briefly before continuing. "I had hoped that it didn't destroy you."

"Y/n.." Realizing he doesn't have to put on this persona to impress you. You look past the clown- past the makeup. Because you've already admired him from the beginning, as Arthur. Heck, even as Carnival, because that's how he'd met you. You care for his well being and feelings. He cherishes your shared moment of silent intimacy. Which is he hasn't had the chance to experience before. It feels nice, refreshing. Like he's finally being seen.

He's the first one to break the stillness. "Well, let's not make this evening all about me," he rests back comfortably. "Please, y/n. How about we talk about you?"

He is all questions and ears for you over the next hour. You inform that you're an office secretary, often working the usual 9 to 5. Which is the only thing going on in your life right now. Having moved here some time ago on your own- no friends or even family. Needing to get away from your life before. However, you'd be lying if you claimed to love it here. You feel alone, trapped. Not just in Gotham, but trapped in your own state of mind. There was nothing in your life, you were simply existing. Only staying because you felt you were part of the few inhabitants that brought some form of color into this cold grey city. But things have only gotten worse for you since. Until now it seems.

"What about you, have you got any family here Arthur?" You ask him curiously.

His smile slowly drops while he thinks of an answer. "No.." he shakes his head, "no one." How? How is he supposed to tell you he killed the woman he grew up thinking was his mother? Who only turned out to be an enabler of his previous ongoing abuse.

No. Bringing her into discussion will only put a damper on such a great night. Eventually he might indeed tell you, but not at the moment. He's having an amazing time with you. Listening to the way you talk, hearing your sweet laugh. Why ruin it?

Towards the end of dinner, you notice Arthur has hardly touched his food. His plate looks as if he picked at it a couple times. Not that it was particularly strange. Perhaps he was too caught in conversation to eat.

"Hey, what do you say we get out of here?" He suggests needing a change of atmosphere. "One of my men over there could drive us. We'll get away from the rest of the crowd. Ride through the town?"

"Sure," you freely agree.

Before you leave, Joker pays the check. Actually pays. Leaving an overly generous tip for the waiter who served you both. Criminal or not, he feels that a gentleman should pay for a first date. Mean, come on, you know the money's stolen. But hey, it's the thought that counts, right?

End of part 3.

[mythiica]

Your Warlords and Mlqc fics are amazing, i wish I had time to write for them 😭sadly school keeps beckoning for me that I have no time to write for my own typical boys

i really should i have finished this earlier, but i was really touched by your comment so i wanted to give you a little thank you! Sorry it took so long 

Title: MLQC Mini Scenarios - Pick Me Up’s (for when you’re having a hard day)

Fandom: Mr. Love Queen’s Choice

Character: All boys

Genre: Comfort

Warnings: None!

Intended Gender Audience: Female Audience 

Word Count: 1506 words, each is about 350/400 words 

POV: second person

Other Comments:  this is supposed to be like general pick me ups for each of the guys, mc has a different situation in each one: not meeting standards, general bad day, feeling inferior, and ?? idk it doesnt have a name but youll see. The guys in turn comfort mc in the way they know how! Hope you like~

Victor…

...watches your head fall between your shoulders, and instantly feels bad about what he said. He should have been less harsh about it, really, but he cannot take the words back anymore. Also, it is not that he wants to put you down. It is the opposite in fact. Victor knows that you can do better, and he wishes to ensure that you strive to produce your best. But hearing you sniffle makes his heart break, even if he doesn’t show it. 

          “I’ll go and fix this then,” you mumble under your breath, trying to fight the urge to cry. Before you have the chance to turn away, Victor sighs. You expect him to chide you for wearing your heart on your sleeve, but instead are surprised when he holds out his hand with a handkerchief. 

         “Something as insignificant as this should not upset you so much.” Victor wishes that he knew how to explain better. 

         Though his words are rough, you accept the handkerchief and blot your eyes carefully. “I… I just…” 

         “Take a deep breath,” he urges, his finger hooking under your chin. Victor looks at you with concerned eyes. “You can only get better from here.” 

         You inhale slowly and nod. Victor catches himself staring into your eyes for too long, so he pulls back and turns his head down to the side. 

         “And that’s really only because you’re at rock bottom right now. If you fell any further, you might drill through to the other side of the world. It’s a commendable accomplishment, really.” 

         “Hey! That isn’t helping!” 

         Victor chuckles under his breath. “You’re not crying anymore, are you?” 

         You blink quickly. Indeed, Victor’s comment was drastic enough that it snapped you out of your miserable moment. “Oh.. I’m not.” 

         He smiles ever so slightly. “Alright, now that you’re back to your usual self, you better get to work. I need the final version of this by noon tomorrow.” 

         Just like you got back to yourself, Victor returned to his typical tsundere self. You fold the handkerchief and offer it back to him. 

         “Keep it. I don’t want your germs.” 

Gavin…

...sees your lip trembling before you feel it. He pulls you into his chest and runs his fingers through your hair tenderly, cradling you against his chest. “Please don’t be upset. It’s not that big of a deal, really.” Gavin rubs your back slowly, but you just bury your face against him and let the tears fall. 

         He was right, but it didn’t change the fact that your day was going horribly. It started off with you stubbing your toe, then you couldn’t find your favourite shirt, and now, you had taken a wrong turn and would miss the grand opening of the festival downtown. There were smaller things that happened throughout the day that just stacked atop each other, but this was the cherry on top. 

         You just want to go home at this point, crawl under the sheets, and hide away from the world. Clutching Gavin’s shirt, you wring your fingers in the fabric. “Can we leave, please?” you ask through soft sobs. 

         Gavin gives you a pained look and tucks his arms around your waist. “Yeah, sure,” he whispers before pressing a kiss to the crown of your head. “Hold on.” 

         “Hold on? What do you mea–”

         But Gavin has already taken the liberty of hoisting you into the air with his evol powers. You had gotten used to the weightlessness sensation as the world whizzed bellow you, so this does not scare you anymore. Still, you hold on tightly to Gavin and hope that you arrive home soon. 

         However, when you peek out from the safety of his jacket, you realize that the two of you are in fact not going towards your shared apartment. Instead, you are making your way to downtown – where the festival is. 

         “But Gavin, I thought–”

         “Yeah, but I didn’t want you to be sad,” he replies quickly. Gavin tips his head down and smiles brightly at you. “Don’t cry anymore, please.” 

         You look down and see the golden lights of the festival stands. The glow reaches upwards, making the city look alive – the chatter of people is loud and welcoming, and you can smell the food from the sky. “You didn’t have to…” 

         “Yes I did.” Gavin lands easily off to the side, away from prying eyes. He wipes your cheeks and pats your hair down. “Shall we?”

Kiro…

...enters the room to find you strewn across the couch, your face hidden by the plush cushions. He slings himself across the room and lands next to you with an oof. “Miss Chips!” he sings playfully, tapping your shoulder. “Are you asleep?” 

         You don’t really want to look up. Kiro would see your eyes and know that you had been crying. Could you get away with pretending to be asleep?

         “Miss Chips?” 

         Still no answer. 

         Kiro takes off his jacket and drapes it over your shoulders before getting up to change out of the rest of his clothes. 

         While he was away, you found a stack of opened fan mail. He was likely sorting through it and replying, but you could not help but feel inferior to the people who were writing him. You, unlike these people, do not have such a flashy story to tell. Albeit, you met Kiro on accident and your relationship evolved from there. Still, something feels missing… Kiro really could be with anyone he wants, and you struggle to find an explanation as to why he chose you over them. 

         Kiro returns and hums softly to himself as he takes his seat next to you. He smells like that wildflower soap you got him as a gift a few months ago. It comforts you, so you reach up and take his hand from his lap. 

         “You live!” he exclaims happily, pocketing his phone. “Why are you lying face down on the couch though?” 

         Rolling over, you do your best to cover your face, but Kiro catches a glimpse of your reddened face. “What happened?” Kiro demands, pulling you into his lap. He smothers you with kisses and pries your hands away from your face in order to dry your tears. “Please tell me... “ 

         “It’s just that–” you begin, looking over your shoulder at the letters. 

         Kiro does not let you finish your thought. “Miss Chips! Don’t you dare think any less of yourself. You are the best thing to happen to me, and I wouldn’t trade all the sweets in the world for you. You are brilliant and kind and brave and so strong with everything you do. I’m so proud of you and lucky that you’re with me. Okay?” 

         He always knows what to say to cheer you up, so you nod and tuck your face into the crook of his neck as he cuddles you gently. 

Lucien…

...worries all day when you do not show up to his lecture. At first, he thought you were running late, but when you don’t respond to his text messages either, Lucien suspects that something else is up. He cancels his afternoon appointments and drives home, but instead of going to his apartment, he knocks on the door to yours. 

         Still no answer, but the door creaks open. Lucien knows it would be better if he stays away, but something pulls on his heart and urges him to go inside. He goes inside and calls out to you, hoping to hear your voice. The lights are all turned out, and it looks like no one is home. 

         “The door opened, and you’ve been away all day. Where are you?” Lucien asks, his voice slightly on edge. 

         You, backed into the far corner of your closet, stay quiet and hope that he goes away. You don’t want to see Lucien at the moment, and it’s better if he does not see you. 

         However, when Lucien sits on your bed, he catches a glimpse of you inside the closet. He stays in his spot and looks at you. “Why are you hiding?” 

         Biting your lip, you shake your head. “I don’t want to come out.” 

         Lucien nods his head slowly. “You don’t have to. But can you tell me why you’re there?” 

         Inhaling slowly, you bury your head in your arms and bring your knees to your chest. Although your response is muffled, Lucien understands. If you do not want to talk about it, he will not press you. Instead, however, Lucien stands up from the bed, opens the door, and takes a seat next to you. “Cozy, here, isn’t it?” 

         He hopes you will smile at the comment, but when you do not move, Lucien tucks his arm around your shoulders and holds you tightly. You unravel from your fetal position and lean against him. It feels good to have Lucien next to you, but you still do not want to confess why you are there. 

         For now, you are okay with just having him to support you.