#I’m here for whatever you like no hate ever

[lovelettersfromluna]

Under Your Spell

summary: what’s that old saying? Best way to get over someone is to get under…..yeah yeah, we all know where this going, don’t we?

an: Hi! Long time no see, huh? I hope you’ve all been doing well! I’ve missed it here a lot, more than you could ever know. The semester is over, and I’m finally free! (For a little bit). College is very hard, and it took a lot of me this year, but let’s not get into that right now. This chapter has been VERY long awaited, and I am so sorry that it’s taken this long to get to you all. This one is pretty short, but not only did I want to get it out to you all in time, but I also have lots planned for the next chapter! (Luna you’re putting four parts into one of your fics???) I know I know, shocker right? Anyways, I hope you all enjoy this past despite it being short! Love you ���🤍🤍

warnings: MDNI!, 18+ fic only, slight smut, lots of angst, mean!Ellie, idiot!Ellie??, Abby’s in this one hehe, making out, drinking, let me know if I missed anything!

Part 1, Part 2

Sleeping in your bed had become extremely difficult.

It was like every time you laid your head against the soft pillows, your skin sliding against the soft material of your sheets, your brain would be filled with images of Ellie. The feeling of her lips on your throat, her hands on your hips, everything she’d given to you was permanently burned into your memory.

You couldn’t get away from her, no matter what you did.

You let out a soft sigh as you sat at your old desk, your cheek resting against your palm as your fingers traced along the smooth material of the wood. Things had gotten a lot trickier after your last night with Ellie, your mind clouded with confusion regarding the entire ordeal.

Ellie had….sought out for you. She definitely did the first time but there was something about her coming home from a night out, and slipping into your sheets that had your mind in shambles. It didn’t make any sense, you were sure that whatever happened between you and Ellie was a one off, something that was influenced mainly by alcohol and forced proximity. The played out story of the brother’s best friend ending up in a sticky situation with the younger sister. It was cliche, but it happened.

That didn’t change that it left your stomach in knots every time you heard the floorboards creak near Ellie’s room.

You’d done a pretty good job at avoiding her and the entire situation. It meant that you were in complete and total lockdown, even worse than before, however it saved any awkward tension, which you’d much rather trade for a few months of complete isolation.

But as all good things did, it was coming to an end.

Because you were given a choice, one that dangled your pride, and your social life in your face, forcing you to choose which you valued more.

Every summer, a huge party was thrown down at the beach. You and your brother joined as soon as you were old enough to drink, your parents went when they were younger, their parents went, and nearly everyone in your town experienced it at least once. It was like a tradition, one that every young person would look forward to.

It was one of your favorite parts about being home for the summer.

However, there wasn’t a party thrown in town that your brother and Ellie wouldn’t join.

And that’s where your choice came in.

You’d been going back and forth with yourself all week, weighing out the pros and the cons of it all. You knew that there were ways to get around her, to make sure that you wouldn’t see here while you were out there. To top it all off, you hated the idea of letting Ellie rip away one of your favorite things to do while you were home, giving her that much power didn’t make any sense to you.

But you still couldn’t push yourself to do it.

You swiveled your chair back and forth, staring up at your ceiling as you struggled to make a decision. However the clock was ticking, and the party was officially happening tonight. You didn’t have much time to go back and forth with yourself anymore.

It was either you swallow your pride, go out and enjoy yourself for the first time since everything happened with Ellie, ultimately standing up for yourself and sending her a big fuck you while doing so…

Or

You let her win. You sacrifice your time there and you let Ellie steal your time. You let her make a fool out of you by being too hung up on the very weird attention she’d been giving you, and you stay in your room for yet another night while everyone else is having the time of their lives.

Thinking of it that way didn’t leave you much of an option, did it?

You practically rip your room apart looking for the perfect outfit to wear, which ends up being a pink halter top that flows down a bit at the ends, a pair of your favorite denim shorts and your sneakers. By the time you’re finishing up your hair and your makeup, you hear the faint sound of your brothers minions showing up, pairing that with the music that starts playing leaves you to figuring they’re probably pregaming before they leave.

That’s when it starts feeling real.

You let out a deep sigh as you stare in the mirror, fixing your top over your chest before fluffing out your hair and fixing your lip gloss, giving yourself a gentle affirming nod before you push your phone into your back pocket and head downstairs.

A blanket of silence falls between Derek and his friends when they notice you, multiple sets of eyes zeroing in on you as you slip between your brother and one of his friends silently to pour a shot before throwing it back with ease. Hazels the first to comment on it.

“Awe man, I didn’t think the first grader could hang….you joining us tonight sweetie?” She taunts, her perfect teeth pressing down into her plush bottom lip as she stares at you, a challenging look in her eye.

Derek is the next one to speak up, a surprised look on his face as he stares down at you. “Wait…really? You’re coming with us?” He quips hopefully. Had Hazel kept her fucking mouth shut, you probably would’ve found the sentiment sweet from him.

You inhale deeply to calm yourself, staring down into the empty shot glass before you finally raise your eyes to look at Hazel, only to find her standing across the island, her back pressed into Ellie’s chest as her tattooed hands toy with the exposed skin of Hazel’s waist.

You completely ignore Ellie’s eyes burning holes into you.

“Shut the fuck up Hazel” you bite back before pouring another shot.

Your words earns reactions from the group instantly, even your brother chuckling softly as he gives you a proud smile. Hazel however, is not amused in the slightest.

Her poker face drops for a moment, nostrils flaring as she stares you down like she wants to jump over the table and have you for herself, but she quickly picks it up, giving you an impressed smirk before she nods slowly.

“Ahh so she speaks…my apologies sweetheart” she practically grits out before she lets out an annoyed sigh.

“Let’s go then. I don’t wanna be late” she quickly seethes out, pushing herself out of Ellie’s arms so she can grab her purse that was sitting on the couch.

You trail behind the others after your brother reassures you things will be okay, giving him a soft smile as you all pile into his car, ultimately missing the way Ellie’s eyes trail you the entire times

The car ride there feels nostalgic. The summer breeze turns cooler the closer you get to the familiar beach, your brother blasting his music in the front as you rest your head against the edge of the window, letting the wind blow through your hair.

It makes you wish things were different. The warmth in your chest would’ve paired so well with a better crowd, one that didn’t see you as the annoying little sister that tagged along when she really shouldn’t be.

Your mind takes you to an alternate reality where things are different, one where you get along with your brother’s friends. You wonder if they’d like you if they gave you the chance, if they weren’t predisposed to not liking you simply because you’re younger than them…

You wonder if things had been different, if you and Ellie could’ve been something.

Because clearly there’s attraction there, there had to be. Were you so wrong for even letting your brain wander there? Wondering what life would be like if you and Ellie were cordial, let alone experimenting with a relationship in a normal way, and not the way you’d been going on for this past summer.

What would it be like if she treated you the way she treated Hazel while others were around? What would it be like if you were in Hazel’s position? Propped up in Ellie’s lap while the others sang songs and joked around with each other?

You’d never know, because you were in this reality, not a perfect one.

You don’t even realize when your brother pulls up to the beach. The gentle shake of the car as his friends practically run out is what rips you away from your thoughts. You clear your throat as you make your way out once everyone is gone, brushing down your outfit as you make your way down the familiar path to the beach. The beach is blossoming with the sound of life. Loud music quickly surrounds you, people dancing, swimming, drinking, it’s almost so perfect it feels cliche, and that alone reminds you that you’d made the right decision by deciding to come out.

You’re the moth, and the ocean is your flame.

It draws you in closer as you sip the drink from your solo cup, appreciating the pattern of the tide rolling in, wetting the sand beneath it, only to then pull back out shortly after. It’s what you’d missed most about the beach in your home town, its ability to calm you no matter what was almost remarkable, even with the crowd of people around you.

You have to stop yourself from walking too far down the beach, knowing deep down that Derek’s friends would take any chance to ditch you while we’re oblivious to what was going on. It’s how you end up out on one of the piers, your legs dangling over the edge as you stare up at the moon, watching as the waves roll in while you sip on your drink.

There’s heavy footsteps along the wooden pier, ones that you don’t quite catch between the heavy sound of the waves, and the music nearby. It isn’t until a familiar voice rings in your ear that you realize you’re not alone.

“You know I heard you were back in town….but I thought there’s no way you’d come back without texting me first” the words come from behind you, and your eyes widen once you catch the tall frame standing over you.

Abby Anderson

She was one of your closest friends back in elementary school. It wasn’t nice to admit, but you’d drifted apart once you both got to high school. It was in the most natural way possible, but she always managed to stick around in your mind from time to time.

Before all of that, you two were stuck at the hip. It was a similar friendship to Ellie and your brother, the two of you always running through your house, causing many headaches for both your parents and her parents whenever you were both together.

You hadn’t seen Abby in years since you left for college, it’d been so long that you didn’t even realize how long it had been.

Her physique was quite the sign that time had passed though.

You gasp softly when you realize it’s her, quickly pushing yourself up off the pier to push yourself into her already opened arms.

“I didn’t know you came back for the summer…god it’s been so long” you sigh out against her broad shoulders, the sweet smell of her perfume filling your nose as you let your eyes flutter shut, relishing in the feeling of her strong arms wrapping around your waist.

“You’d know if you thought to hit me up once in a while” she teases. You can hear the smirk in her voice as she keeps you close. It makes you giggle softly as you finally pull away from her, wanting to get a good look at the girl.

She’s just as pretty as you remember. Abby always had the prettiest blonde hair, and the most charming smile. Those were never things that you failed to notice about your friend, however she’s different now. She’s taller, her build a hell of a lot more stronger than when you were in elementary school, her hair longer and tucked into a thick braid…

You have to stop yourself from staring.

She peers down into your cup, noticing that you were getting empty. She nods her head towards the bonfire before speaking.

“Let’s top you up while you tell me alllll about your life in the big city, yeah?” She offers, to which you dumbly nod to as you follow next to her almost obediently.

After that, the two of you were glued to the hip the entire night. Between catching up on what life had brought the two of you within your adult years, and reminiscing over your time as kids, the world could be burning around the both of you and you two wouldn’t have noticed a thing. For the first time since you’d came home, you had finally found someone to spend time with.

And Ellie notices the entire thing.

Her eyes were on you the entire night. From the moment you came downstairs at the house, it was like she was under some fucked up spell that made it so she couldn’t function unless you were in her line of view. She couldn’t count on her hands how many annoyed sighs she received when her friends realized she wasn’t listening to what they were saying, instead busying herself with figuring out where the hell you were.

She tracked you like she was the predator, and you were her prey. She made sure you didn’t stray too far away from the group, made sure you didn’t do something stupid like strip naked to take a quick dip into the cold ocean. She was just being helpful! It wasn’t like she felt her mouth go dry every time it looked like someone was going to approach you….

And its like fate was on your side that night, because the moment Abby approached you at the dock, Hazel was settling herself into Ellie’s lap, toying with the hair at the nape of her neck and ultimately blocking you from her view completely.

The next time she does get a chance to see you again, you’re wrapped up in none other than Abby Anderson’s arms.

It’s just her luck, isn’t it? That out of every girl in your small beachside town, you choose that fucking idiot. You choose the girl that everyone knows to be Ellie’s sworn fucking enemy since forever. The only explanation is that you’re doing this on purpose. You know exactly what to do to get under Ellie’s skin. You did it when you were flirting with Jesse right in front of her, you did it when you kicked her out of your bedroom the last time you two were together, and you were doing it right fucking now by getting all cozy with Abby fucking Anderson.

So of course, she has to try and stop this.

But Ellie soon realizes that she spends way too much time mentally dwelling over this, and accusing you of something she knew deep down was very much out of character for you, because the second her eyes search for the two of you, she’s met with something she can only assume was pulled out of her worst nightmare.

You and Abby hand in hand as she helps you into her car.

Ellie is quick to push Hazel off her lap, her eyes now frantically searching for your brother. Once she spots him, she’s interrupting his conversation the moment she opens her mouth.

“Hey man…have you um….do know where your sisters going right now?” She asks almost out of breath, her eyes shifting quickly between Derek and Abby’s truck as she pulls out of her spot in the parking lot.

Your brother raises his eyebrows as he looks back to where you are in the girls car, nodding as he takes a sip of his drink. “Yeah, she just came and told me her friend is gonna take her home” he explains casually with a shrug before he tries to turn back to his conversation.

Ellie scoffs in disbelief at his casual tone, her hand reaching forward to grab his shoulder and turn him around to face her again.

“Friend? Did you even see who she was leaving with?” Her voice is laced with worry and distress as she complains to your brother, the man oblivious to Ellie’s frantic demeanor.

“Wasn’t it just Abby? They’ve been friends forever…I honestly don’t trust anyone other than that girl. Have you seen her fucking arms? I think my sister is in good hands with her” he chuckles softly as he gives Ellie’s shoulder a reassuring squeeze.

Between his words and his reaction to the entire thing, Ellie feels like she’s going to lose her fucking mind.

Her green eyes go wide as she stares at your brother before she gives a laugh of disbelief. “Are you fucking kidding me? It’s just Abby? As in Abby fucking Anderson? Are we talking about the same girl here? Or are you suffering from fucking brain damage?” She snaps back.

Her wild eyes and mean words take your brother back, his playful laughter dying down once he realizes that he friend is quite literally tweaking over the fact that you’ve left with the girl that he knew she had some beef with.

“Woah…calm down man. It’s just my sister, your beef with Anderson doesn’t really have anything to do with her…she’ll be fine” he tries to assure her once more, his tone softening to calm his friend.

This does nothing though. It makes Ellie pinch the bridge of her nose in annoyance as she shakes her head. “Give me your keys” she demands with her palm out, pushed towards him.

Derek furrows his brows in confusion. “What? Are you seriously going to-“ he’s quickly cut off by Ellie, stopping him from finishing his question.

“Give me your fucking keys Derek. I’m not letting that asshole get it in with your sister” she finally admits, her words making your brothers eyes go wide with realization, finally seeing the situation for what it really was.

He inhales deeply before he reaches into his pocket and finally places his keys into his friends hand without another word, biting back the smirk that threatened to grace his lips.

He always thought Ellie’s animosity towards you was weird, but he never thought it would mean this all along.

She doesn’t even notice, the girl quickly taking the keys and mumbling a small ‘thanks’ as she jogs up the path to the parking lot to jump into your brothers car, and race home.

Meanwhile at your house, Abby was showing you quite the time.

It didn’t take long for you two to give into the tension that had settled the moment she picked you up from the dock. One moment you were toying with the little loose hairs falling from her braid and framing her face, and the next you were tugging her up to your bedroom and locking the door behind you.

Her hands were all over you, caressing your body as her knee began grinding into your core, her lips swallowing up your moans as you clung to her desperately, chasing your high as if your life depended on it.

The feeling of Abby against you cleared Ellie out of your head almost immediately. You weren’t worried about her or the mean things she’d said to you, or the nasty way she’d treated you after getting what she wanted from you. What once was a bed that you could barely sleep in without thinking of her was now filled with the feeling of Abby, and you couldn’t be more grateful.

Ellie realizes she’s too late when she pulls into your driveway to see Abby’s truck is still there, and she has to stop herself from ripping your brothers car door off when she gets out and slams it closed. There’s still something in her that hopes this is all innocent, that you didn’t really do the unthinkable and take Abby Anderson home to spite her. She hopes that the sweet side of you has taken the moral high ground, that you’ve gone to bed like the good girl she knows you are and Abby just happened to walk home and leave her car in your driveway.

So when she’s jogging on the stairs after frantically searching for you downstairs, hoping that she’ll find you sound asleep in your bed, her blood practically runs cold when her hand wraps around your doorknob…

And she can make out the familiar sounds of your moans through your door, paired with Abby’s words of encouragement to go with it.

[revelboo]

revelboo! No more of this madness, I beg of you there's already 93 parts of "everything is alright" enough of these slutty horny robots😭… I'm just screwing around, you can do whatever you want personally I would like to see the next part of “point of extinction” or “the coma kid” I absolutely adore your work and look forward to it whenever I get the time to, so take as many breaks as you need and keep up the amazing work, our lord and Savior revelboo>:3

I’m dying right now 😂 I’m the only one at work and that’s just to work the phones, that likely aren’t ringing. So I’m going to write until I have to actually work.

The Coma Kid Pt 3

TFO B-127 x Reader

• “Maybe you shouldn’t hold them like that?” The one you’ve dubbed Big Daddy suggests and your captor makes a noise and flips you right side up a bit too quickly. Swallowing convulsively, you almost hope you do hurl all over him. Maybe that will convince him to let you go. Shoving at B-127 when he presses his face against your neck and shoulder, snuggling you like a kid with a new kitten. “I shouldn’t be here. Just let me go and I’ll pretend I didn’t see any aliens,” you say, shivering as his lips brush skin and something pulls at you, a tug in your core that makes your breath catch as a warm and absolutely unwanted feeling of rightness and belonging spill through you. No. Horrified, you struggle harder against his grip. Not happening. You are not feeling drawn to this kidnapping jerk.

• “But we’re sparkmates.” You must be able to feel that same warmth he feels holding you. Looking beseechingly up at Optimus as the bigger bot rubs the side of his helm. “I can feel them. Need them. They’re home and belonging and I won’t need to be alone ever again.” Trying to make Optimus understand that this matters. This is everything and he can’t just let you go. Needs you too much and maybe you don’t want him, that’s okay. He’s used to that. If he just keeps smiling, you’ll come around eventually. Feels you shiver against his servos when his mouth slides against your neck again. “I can’t let them go.” Panic growing at the edge of his processor, he forces a big smile, pretending it’s okay. “We’re going to be so happy together.”

• And he’s walking away with you as Big Daddy just looks on, concerned. Apparently not sure how to deal with this and not going to save you. Hating that the touch of his mouth against your neck sparks through you and he just keeps doing it. Heat spreading through you in little waves that you are not willing to examine too closely. “Look, pal, you don’t love me,” trying to shove his big face away and stiffening as his lips part and his glossa brushes the inside of your wrist, entire body going electric with the contact. With need. Swearing, you yank your hand back and slap him. “Cut it out! We’re not soulmates or whatever. I don’t know what’s going on, but I’m going home.”

• “Sparkmates,” he corrects, slightly hurt. You can feel it, his spark thrumming every time you react to him. Because even if you don’t like it, you can feel it. You’ll come around eventually. Love him as much as he already loves you. “This is home. You’ll love it, everyone’s great here,” he says. You’re so soft in his servos, he’ll need to find soft things for his berth for you. Whatever it is humans use for fuel. “Neither of us ever need to be alone again,” he whispers, nuzzling against you as you slap him again and he ignores it. While it doesn’t physically hurt, it makes his spark ache that you’re so unhappy. “You’ll see. This was fated.” Just needs to show you he can be a good mate, attentive and caring. Patient. Servos flexing as the unwanted thought comes that if he gets you with a sparkling, you won’t be able to leave. You’d have to stay.

• Slumping in his grip and shaking out your stinging palm, you admit defeat for now. He can’t babysit you all the time, you just need to find an opportunity and escape. And sparkmates? It’s not like the big, alien lovesick puppy can actually do anything to you. He just wants to cuddle you to death. “Sure. Fine.” And he lights up, those little nubs on his helm lifting some as he grins at you like you just made his day. Eyes narrowing at him, because you resent the fact that he’s kind of cute when he smiles. Trying to remind yourself that he kidnapped you. He’s absolutely not a puppy, so you can’t think of him like that. Can’t start to like him no matter what.

Previous

I need time to get it right

Always trying to decipher what it means

Hours wasted in the land of hopes and dreams

So I won't look back

I won't look down

I'll focus on the planet spinning round and round

Comatose and singing

[tojiscrack]

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐎𝐏𝐄𝐍 𝐆𝐀𝐌𝐄

summary: 11.4k words — you spend some time at megumi and yuji’s open game, but spend some more time with someone else there

notes: i was overwhelmed with the amount of asks, messages, comments, and dm’s the last chapter provoked! (in a good way ofc, i loved it 😭). now i’m just curious — a lot of you (as predicted) hated the events of last chapter. you’re definitely not gonna enjoy this one :) anyway, it’s 1hr past the 22nd of dec, and i intended to get this out for megumi’s birthday, so pretend i did. HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO OUR GRUMPY PORCUPINE! <3

tw: shouting, BELLOWING, yelling, whatever other words you might use for that lol, and blood, criminals, and gangs

i do not own any of the characters of jjk, i only own the character of y/n and her mother. the other characters belong to gege akutami.

previous chapter :)

next chapter :)

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・

"the raven himself is hoarse that croaks the fatal entrance of duncan under my battlements ... come, you spirits that tend on mortal thoughts!"

the stage lights cast a soft glow, illuminating you as you delivered your lines with striking conviction. it wasn't a performance for a packed auditorium, but a rehearsal for your extracurricular theatre club.

the room was mostly empty, save for a few of your peers and your director, yet megumi could feel the atmosphere buzzing with quiet focus. your voice filled the space, and he silently appreciated how you could throw yourself into a character so conniving like lady macbeth and then jump right into being your bubbly self once again, as though you hadn't just emasculated poor macbeth trembling on the other side of the stage.

not that he'd ever tell you that. the most you'd get is a pat on the head, and even that seemed to be a bit much for megumi.

the lack of an audience didn't matter to you, it seemed; you poured your entire heart into the scene, as if the world were watching.

but it was easy to remind himself of the fact that it was a rehearsal and not a real performance, for every time you reached that exact line, you'd let out a snort and turn away with the same maturity as a child. megumi became more and more unimpressed each time it happened.

"y/n," the director called out, her voice made ten times louder from the echo of the megaphone.

you nodded, but still failed to wipe that grin off your face.

"i got it," you assured her, and megumi had almost missed what you'd said when the loud movement of the seats from somewhere in the backrow had sounded for the nth time. you schooled your face with an expression of determination, but megumi could see the underlying hint of amusement, clear as day. "unsex me here! and fill me from the —"

you'd cut yourself off with your laughter, the sound of it only resulting in more groans from your peers backstage, but megumi only watched you with a raised brow, mentally cursing whoever was making that stupid chair noise from the backrow — your laughter had been drowned out by it.

"i can't do it," you chortled, using the pages of your script to hide your face. "i can't do it!"

the director's sigh echoed around the hall.

"right, adjust the flower crown 'cause it's sitting on the edge of your head, and let's do act five, scene one."

megumi leaned back in his chair, arms crossed as he observed the stage's organised chaos. you and your peers bustled about, setting up for the transition to the next scene.

the props crew adjusted the minimalistic set pieces while one of your friends struggled to untangle a misplaced curtain cord. you briefly stepped offstage, laughing with another castmate as they adjusted your flower crown to sit properly atop your head.

as the lights dimmed slightly in preparation, megumi looked up again, his patience steady, fully expecting to see you dive back into the character of lady macbeth without skipping a beat.

and you had — straight away.

you were now at the centre of the stage once more, standing by a fake sink — a prop — your arms extended before you, one hand holding your script, the other with fingers curled towards yourself.

"out, damned spot!" you began, voice striking. "out, i say!"

there was a pause, and megumi half believed that you had forgotten the rest of your lines (even though you were reading out of a paper script held in your hand) but then you looked up, apparently going to improv.

"out, damned fricking spot! get out of here! you damned — damned spot, get away and just — just go and leave and why don't you just leave —"

"y/n," the director called out your name, tone firm and scolding. "stick to the scri— oh for god's —"

you laughed loudly, shaking your head and standing still, your hands back at your side.

"'kay i'm sorry," you sighed, and megumi could tell that you were genuine, but he knew the director couldn't. from his seat in the audience, the director's eyes had narrowed, her megaphone now at her side as she raised a brow at you, the lines on her forehead prominent as ever.

"i'll start again," you told her, and megumi had to strain to catch that, for the stupid chair noise had echoed around the hall again.

you had lifted your script and began hurriedly rereading your lines, but when your eyes had lifted and skimmed the hall, passing megumi's, he frowned when you stumbled, almost looking as though you had attempted to retreat in fear.

"what just happened?" the director's voice called out through the megaphone again.

you furrowed your brows and squinted your eyes. megumi held back a scowl. what the hell were you up to now?

you eventually answered the question, but only after you'd become comfortable at the centre of the stage again, nodding to yourself with a smile.

"ah, sorry," you said, meeting her stern gaze sheepishly. "the outline of megumi's head just scared me for a second —"

the scowl that he'd been trying his hardest to hold back had been released, and it only deepened at the sound of the people backstage — your foolish classmates — laughing along.

there was nothing funny about that, and if he chose to tell all of them about your mermaid fiasco several years ago, you wouldn't find it funny then.

he sunk in his seat, throwing you a glare you probably couldn't see very well seeing as the rest of the auditorium was dark; the only lights being shun were the ones on the stage.

"if she wasn't my best lead, i would've kicked her out by now," the director whispered, only, it had been (accidentally) spoken with the megaphone on.

she quickly turned it off, but it had been too late: you'd already heard it.

your lips parted slightly, eyebrows raised in mild offense, but the glimmer in your eyes betrayed a certain smugness. you glanced briefly at the director with mock indignation, a hand coming to rest on your hip as if you were about to deliver a snarky comeback, but instead, you simply shook your head and turned back to your script, a faint, satisfied smile tugging at the corners of your mouth.

megumi watched this unfold, his expression still maintaining that bitter scowl.

while the comment seemed to have both bruised and inflated your ego, he wasn't surprised. you'd always had this uncanny ability to balance between taking yourself seriously and not at all. best lead, he thought dryly, watching with half lidded eyes as you delivered your next few lines correctly. if only she knew how many times he'd seen you trip over thin air or forget half your lines in the name of a 'creative process'. still, he begrudgingly admitted to himself that, onstage, you were captivating — even if it happened to be for the wrong reasons half the time.

as the rehearsal wound down, you and your peers began packing up on stage. megumi used his phone to check the time.

it was time to go home.

scripts were gathered and props carefully returned to their designated spots by the crew. the faint creak of the stageboards accompanied the bustle, with one of your classmates complaining about how she couldn't find her missing pencil while another laughed at something whispered behind the curtains.

you slipped off your flower crown, adjusting it absentmindedly before tossing it onto a nearby prop table, and joined the group tidying up. the director had long since stopped barking orders and now stood by the edge of the stage, chatting with one of the seniors about next week's rehearsal schedule.

megumi stood from his seat with a quiet sigh, stuffing his hands into his pockets as he made his way towards the backstage area, but not without stopping to throw the annoying person at the back row with the noisy chair a glance.

the person was now standing, but the automatic chair had slammed itself shut, allowing that loud noise to carry itself around the hall.

megumi had made his way towards the wall by the side curtain, his nose scrunched at the person — their silhouette showing that it was a guy around the same height as himself.

he had left the hall abruptly as megumi leaned against the wall, waiting for you to finish up, his gaze idly tracking your movements.

you turned around and jumped.

"ah, porcupine!" you gasped, unclipping your bracelets absentmindedly. "you need to announce your arrival, you scared m—"

"shut up, mermaid," he snapped, his patience running thin.

your lips pressed themselves into a tight line, eyes narrowing as you straightened your posture and clenched your jaw, willing yourself to keep your composure, though the sharpness in your movements — tossing your bracelets into the props table with more force than necessary —betrayed your irritation.

"i'm gonna call security on you," you threatened him, the corner of your mouth twitching as if you were fighting the urge to scowl outright, but instead, you busied yourself with adjusting your hair. the flower crown had messed the top of it.

"why are you tapping your head like that?" he questioned, not even entertaining the empty threat you'd shot at him.

"'cause if i'm not careful, i'll end up looking like a punk," you answered, before intentionally eyeing his dishevelled, fluffy hair. you met his sharpened gaze with a look of faux remorse. "yikes."

there was a glint of something dangerous in his eyes as he watched you try to unclip the necklace hanging delicately on your collarbone — a warning, sharp and unspoken, that clearly said: watch it.

"turn around," he grumbled, when it became apparent that it was going to take a while for you to finally manage taking the ugly necklace off.

you complied without much protest. however, that didn't mean that you did so silently:

"could be nicer about i— ow, porcupine! it's got my hair, it's got my hair!"

"stop moving," megumi demanded, messily throwing your hair over your shoulder to your front. he grunted under his breath when you continued to struggle against him. "squirming like a mermaid —"

your reaction was immediate, bristling with indignation as your head snapped around to glare at him, though the position made it awkward. if he wasn't fiddling with the clasp at the base of your neck, you might've been tempted to swat at his hands, but instead, you turned your focus forward, muttering something unintelligible under your breath that was undoubtedly not complimentary.

you flinched when he had finally managed to successfully unclip the necklace, but only when it continued to tug at the hairs at the back of your neck.

"porcupine — ow! oh my g— stop!" you complained, your eyes watering and knees bending as megumi tugged at the necklace again.

"how else am i supposed to take it off?" he shot back, grumpy.

"i'mgonnaendupinahospitalbedlikeallthoseyearsagoandnearlydie—"

"you never nearly died," said megumi, emphasising his point by cruelly pulling the necklace down again. you had stumbled back into him, but he remained stagnant where he stood, brows furrowed in both annoyance and deep concentration. "don't be stupid."

"ouch! you're doing it on purpose now, you — porcu—"

"right, who is porcupine?" the director's voice cut through the air like a whip, sharp and demanding attention.

the two of you looked up abruptly: she was standing before you, arms raised (and brows furrowed) in confusion.

deadpanned, you shot megumi a quick glance before addressing her.

"... is it really that hard to guess, looking between the two of us?"

at that, megumi had harshly pulled the necklace, taking some of your hair with it.

you squeaked, your hand immediately going up to ease the pain as you spun around and stared at his hand, the necklace holding bits of your hair cut fresh from the top of your neck.

"..."

"..."

"... okay, what is going on here?" the director asked, her eyes following the prop as megumi casually threw it over your head and onto the table behind you.

megumi barely had time to blink after that before you lunged at him, your hands diving into his hair with startling precision.

you yanked back with just enough force to rip out a few strands, his grunt of annoyance and pain echoing around the hall as the director stood frozen, her expression caught somewhere between bewildered disbelief and an exasperated sigh, as though contemplating whether this entire exchange was even worth addressing.

"right, y/n —"

"now we're even!" you snapped, as though the woman beside you hadn't spoken at all. you presented the dark hairs to megumi, and then purposefully made him watch as you slowly pocketed them, taking your sweet time and relishing in the crease between his brows that continued to deepen the longer you drew it out.

"you're a weirdo," he stated icily, but you turned away, paying him no mind.

"keep talking and i'm gonna get nobara's voodoo doll."

the two of you exited the auditorium together, the air practically vibrating with the quiet reluctance of megumi's brooding presence beside you.

he strode with his hands shoved deep into his pockets, meanwhile, you walked with an air of triumph, your fingers slipping into your own pocket every so often to toy with the strands of his hair, a small grin tugging at your lips every time you caught the subtle crackle of his growing irritation.

he deserved it.

"what did you think of rehearsal?" you asked him curiously. "lady macbeth's lines are so funny —"

"they're not funny," megumi disagreed bluntly. he sounded genuine. "you're just immature."

you showed him the strands of his hair that you'd passionately held onto in your pocket.

"say that again," you challenged, brows raised.

he merely swatted your wrist away with a scowl; you pocketed his hair with a shrug.

"as i was saying," you continued, as the two of you exited the school, "the macbeth play isn't gonna have a proper audience anyway, so i'm not too fussed about perfecting lady macbeth's lines. it's gonna be recorded tho! what did you think of it so far?"

megumi narrowed his eyes, the sun peeking out from over the clouds bright enough to blind him momentarily.

"couldn't even hear anything 'cause of the idiot sitting at the back," he told you with a scowl.

you laughed, brows raised in intrigue.

"yeah, they've been here for the past week or so," you informed your friend, chuckling at his sour expression.

"why don't you kick him out?"

"if we were to kick out every single disturbance, you would be sitting outside every day, porcupine."

"i'm not a disturbance."

"your hair is though."

"shut up."

as you neared the bike rack, you spotted yuji and nobara waiting for the two of you by their respective bikes.

yuji's was unmistakably bright — an electric blue frame with neon green accents that megumi thought perfectly screamed his excitable personality, complete with a flashy bell he had been spinning absentmindedly. nobara's, in contrast, was a sleek, matte-black with a subtle crimson stripe running along the frame. as the two of them looked up at your approach, yuji tilted his head with a toothy grin, arm raised in the air, already waving.

megumi believed that your bike stood out against the others, its pastel yellow frame and front basket adorned with a bunch of small, faux daisies that gave it a cheerful, almost whimsical vibe.

he approached his own as the three of you jumped into conversation with one another.

megumi's bike, dark navy and utterly plain, had been parked beside yours — you never failed to remind him how it looked like a sullen counterpart. he didn't care: it was his bike after all, not yours.

"my parents are working late again," yuji added brightly. he was sitting on his bike, waiting for the rest of you to clip on your helmets and do the same. "grandpa's home, and choso's at his place, so we basically have the house to ourselves tonight."

you silently nodded, hanging your bag on the right handlebar.

megumi scowled at nobara, who had seated herself on her bike, discarding her phone in her bag and zipping it up without another word.

"put your helmet on," he demanded her.

she looked up at him with a stony expression, her lips set in a straight line and brows furrowed as though to say 'are you talking to me?'.

"i'm having a bad hair day today —"

yuji frowned, looking bewildered:

"— but your hair looks nice —"

"shut up," snapped nobara, continuing as though you had not laughed loudly at the falter in yuji's bemused smile. you swerved away from his leg when he extended it to kick at your bike. "i'm not gonna make it worse by putting on that helmet."

megumi did not look impressed by her answer, throwing one of his legs over his bike to sit down and unclip his own helmet, glaring at her all the while.

"you're turning into the mermaid —"

"what the hell?" you demanded angrily, gesturing to your own helmet, which was conveniently sitting on your head. "i'm wearing mine!"

megumi's face tightened, jaw tensed as though he were biting back a sharp retort. one hand gripped the handlebar of his bike firmly, while the other toyed with the edge of his helmet, spinning it idly in a way that betrayed his rising frustration.

"i know why you're hesitating to wear yours," you shot back, offended by his jab at you, unprovoked. "it'll flatten down your sea-urchin hair and make you look like your dad —"

"watch it," he warned you icily, a short, clipped exhale leaving his nose as he glanced between you and nobara, his expression a mix of exasperation and resignation, like he'd just resigned to a battle he never wanted to fight in the first place.

the sky stretched above in a pale canvas of soft blues and muted golds, the sun dipping lazily towards the horizon, its warm light spilling across the school front in delicate, golden hues. the four of you had mounted your bikes and had already begun cycling down the road, away from the busy bus route yuji would usually take and down the quiet neighbourhood, away from the loud traffic lights.

wisps of cotton-like clouds floated idly, their edges tinged with blush and amber as the day prepared to give way to the evening the longer the four of you bickered and laughed, simultaneously being wary of the occasional car that would pass by every now and then. the faint rustle of leaves stirred by the gentle breeze whispered through the air, carrying with it the crisp, earthy scent of early autumn. your shadows stretched long across the crosswalk, mingling with the sporadic glint of sunlight reflecting off the polished metal frames of your bikes.

"grandpa went to the store the other day," yuji loudly spoke. he was riding his bike beside you while megumi and nobara cycled just ahead. "he bought a bunch of new films for us! we can watch the nun tonight!"

"is it wise to watch a horror movie at your place?" nobara called out, her hair a lighter shade where the sun hit it.

yuji looked bewildered at her question. "but we always watch horror movies at my place..."

"no, she's right!" you added, eyes wide. "what if we accidentally trigger the s word somehow?"

yuji's expression shifted almost comically as the realisation dawned on him, his brows furrowing in confusion before lifting in sudden clarity. he sat upright on his bike, one hand tightening on the handlebars as if steadying himself, while his other hand shot up to nervously scratch the back of his head.

"oi, use both hands," megumi demanded from up front.

yuji silently complied, though his eyes remained glued on you.

"sukuna won't —"

"don't say his name," you hissed, brows furrowed in both anger and panic.

yuji's wide-eyed expression stayed constant as the conversation continued.

"wait, it should be fine, guys," nobara had intervened, one hand holding onto her bike while the other extended itself towards the brooding, dark-haired male cycling beside her. "we have megumi — he's great at protecting us!"

megumi shot her a sharp look as he swatted her hand away. apparently, he did not agree with this idea.

"remember when he pushed su—"

"nobara!"

"— the s word away from us when he said he'd rip our hair out and use them as handcuffs?" she continued, as you cycled behind her with a wariness only the demon could bring out of you. "he comes up with the most creative threats, y'know. sometimes i'm a little impressed, but my hair's too short for handcuffs —"

"he wanted us bald," you reminded her helpfully, "so that means ripping your hair from the roots, which is long enough for handcuffs, paired with mine, too."

"that's irrelevant," said megumi, his hair standing up as the four of you cycled through the breeze. you imagined him looking rather silly from the front, seeing as the back was serving enough laughs out of both you and yuji. "and i can't do much today anyway. after the movie, i have to look over sharmin and miwa's history homework."

you frowned at the back of his head.

"you're doing their homework?" you asked, sounding offended.

"they asked me to look over it before practice today," megumi answered calmly, "but i didn't have time, so i said i'd do it later today and give it back to them tomorrow."

that did not sit right with you, not when megumi always refused to do your homework whenever you asked.

you pedalled faster and slipped in between megumi and nobara, shooting him a look of disapproval.

"any time i ask you to do my homework, you refuse," you told him with a raised brow.

"same goes for them," megumi responded, throwing nobara (who was now behind the two of you) and yuji both a look a warning glance for arguing over nothing loudly. "i'm not doing their homework. i'm looking over it."

you shrugged. "yeah that's what i ask you to do, too."

"no you don't."

"yes i do!"

"you don't."

"i do!"

"you don't," megumi snapped, his patience thin. "you lie about being sick and try to guilt trip me into it —"

"accusations!" you gasped, lifting one hand to point at him dramatically. "false accusations!"

you'd nearly lost your balance on your bike due to how quickly you had sat up and let go of the handlebars. megumi, once again, extended his own arm and directed your bike properly again, but not without clicking his tongue at you in distaste.

"y/n!" nobara called for you from behind.

you looked over your shoulder and then regretted it when megumi flicked your forehead in warning. you turned back around abruptly, narrowing your eyes at him as they watered.

he didn't have to do it so hard, you thought to yourself grumpily.

"nobara, i can't look at you 'cause of the bike police over here —"

"shut up."

despite megumi's harsh criticism, nobara had continued to talk anyway.

"yuji's hair is nothing like miwa's, right?" she said, and you did not have to look back to be aware of yuji's frown of both annoyance and disappointment. "his is like a dull pink —"

yuji did not like that. "hey!"

"miwa's looks better," you responded easily. it hadn't been a difficult decision after all: you remembered the day miwa had walked past the school doors with the long, blue hair that ran past her shoulders and spine. "the blue suits her! and the bangs too!"

"told you," you heard nobara's smug voice add.

"it also matches her eyes," you commented with a smile. "you can't say the same, yuji."

"wha— megumi!" yuji shouted desperately. "help me out!"

you glanced over at megumi's face. he seemed indifferent, as always, but his response had said otherwise.

he had shrugged, relaxed. "they're right."

yuji's wail of misery only had the three of you threatening to leave him behind. he had sulked for a bit, but eventually joined in on the next set of conversations you found yourself immersed in for a portion of the remainder of the journey.

the sun hung low on the horizon, its amber glow spilling across the quiet neighborhood like molten gold. the bungalows stood neatly in rows, their silhouettes softened by the warm, fading light, and the occasional flicker of a porch light hinted at the coming dusk, while the air seemed to grow still, as though welcoming the four of you to yuji's neighbourhood again.

"you can't do it," you told yuji, who had been adamant in showing all of you a trick that choso had taught him on his bike the other day. you threw him a look of disbelief from over your shoulder.

your bike had swerved unexpectedly, and when you turned back around to regain control, you noted that it was megumi, who had his hand on the front of your bike, apparently saving you from having ridden over a large rock in the middle of the road.

"i can!" yuji protested, riding past both you and megumi to keep up with nobara, who had long since ridden ahead. "just watch!"

"don't do it, you idiot," megumi chided, glaring at the back of yuji's pink head.

"but —"

megumi cut across him harshly. "you're gonna fall."

"i won't!" yuji shouted back, eyes wide with exhilaration. "i've done it a hundred times already! just look!"

yuji surged forwards on his bike, his grin brimming with confidence as he positioned himself to attempt the trick. he shifted his weight back, tugging up on the handlebars with a flourish to lift the front wheel off the ground.

for a brief, fleeting moment, the bike wobbled in perfect balance, his exhilarated laughter ringing out in triumph.

but then the balance tipped — too far back — and the wheel slammed down awkwardly.

yuji, unable to steady himself, tumbled sideways onto the road with a loud thud, his limbs sprawling across the sidewalk. his bike clattered noisily beside him, the bell letting out an inadvertent chime as it hit the ground.

the three of you stopped, a beat of stunned silence passing before laughter broke out simultaneously: nobara had doubled over her handlebars, wheezing as she clutched her side, while you clapped a hand over your mouth, struggling to stifle your snickers. even megumi's usual stoic expression cracked slightly, his lips twitching as he muttered something under his breath and shook his head.

yuji groaned dramatically, sprawled out on the concrete road like a tragic hero, but none of you made a move to help him, not even when he asked.

"guys..." he called out weakly, face scrunched in pain. he extended his arm shakily, eyes half-lidded. "help..."

you shot a glance at nobara, holding your breath to try and stop yourself from snorting out another round of laughs, before turning your bike around and cycling away.

"just go, leave him," you hurriedly told her, your legs working quickly on the pedals of your bike.

yuji lifted his head.

she did not hesitate in following suit.

"we warned you!" she called out with a wide grin.

megumi had not said a word as he, too, seemed to agree with the both of you, his feet pressing down on the pedals a little faster.

"go, don't look back," you muttered, kicking off your bikes to continue cycling down the road.

you laughed merrily as his calls of protest grew faint the further you rode away, leaving him to flail on the ground, loudly lamenting his fate.

but of course, you weren't evil — perhaps nobara was, though — for you and megumi had turned on your bikes to get him, and she had been the only one who let out a groan of exhaustion at the mere thought of it.

but the funniest part wasn't the way you'd found yuji lying on the road in the exact same way you'd left him, nor was it the way his eyes had lightened up at the sight of you...

it was how he had remained firm on giving you all the silent treatment the rest of the way to his house, and how he had been struggling to do so, for if anyone was an expert, qualified chatter, it was yuji itadori.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・

the football field stretched wide under the fading light, its green expanse marked with crisp white lines that gleamed faintly in the late afternoon. you were standing on the bench at the front row, watching the football players dart across the field.

it was jujutsu high's open game for the football team, which (by the school's definition) was a practice session open for the general school public to attend.

your eyes followed the ball as it sailed through the air, a blur of motion intercepted by a leaping player — chad, you noticed with raised brows, as the whistle from coach yaga encouraged the rest of the team to push forward.

your eyes had scoured the players in search of your friends. you couldn't exactly tell who was who because of the uniform and helmet that would conceal both their bodies and their faces, so you could only rely on their player numbers displayed on both the fronts and backs of their jerseys.

player number one — who was currently sprinting alongside massive player number six — was yuji. you never bothered him when he concentrated on the game. you usually saved the disturbance for when he'd done something to piss you off (like intentionally telling your spanish teacher that you deleted duolingo off your phone to spare some storage).

player number two was who you were really looking for, and it only brought a smile to your face when you'd found him — megumi — sprinting the other way.

"you're going the wrong way, megumi!" you helpfully reminded him.

he ignored you, as per usual. but you noticed, with triumph, how his legs had started to slow down.

beneath his helmet, you were certain he was gritting his teeth.

"the ball's that's way!" you called out, one hand cupping the side of your mouth, the other benevolently pointing at player number eight, who was now in possession of the ball. "what are you doing?"

megumi had approached coach yaga, and from where you were stood, accompanied by the chatter of the other onlookers, you could not hear what was being exchanged between the two. the sharp glare that coach yaga had shot you was a lot to go by, however, not that you cared.

you hadn't cared in middle school, you wouldn't care now.

yaga knew that very well.

megumi turned away and had begun jogging towards his teammates again. you shook your head, your foot tapping the metal of the bench impatiently.

"well it's too late for that now!" you told him, tutting in disapproval. "they've gone and scored without you! oh — hi toge!"

player number six, todo, was a towering presence, and you watched as he charged across the field with the ball tucked firmly under his arm, shrugging off attempted tackles like they were nothing more than minor inconveniences. close behind, yuji darted around the defence with his usual agility, his movements quick and unpredictable, drawing shouts of encouragement from somewhere behind you, because — right, that was a thing now — he had gained quite a few admirers over the last week, not that he had been aware of it. the only reason you knew was because of an occasion last week where you and nobara had camped inside a singular stall in the girls' toilets, overhearing a conversation between a few sophomores and juniors.

megumi was now in possession of the ball, and though he wasn't as speedy as yuji, he excelled in the game by being strategic, which compensated for the lack of agility.

he's doing well, you thought to yourself. it was too bad you enjoyed poking fun at him.

you exaggeratedly waved both arms in the air as if directing imaginary traffic, calling out random, unhelpful advice about the game. his head had turned for a fraction of a second, and that had been enough to encourage you to go further.

"quick! the small one's behind you!" you called out, your expression grave. you chuckled when he actually looked over his shoulder. "haha! made you look —"

"— l/n!"

your eyes travelled across the field to meet yaga's, shielded by his sunglasses. he didn't look pleased in the slightest, but he hadn't said anything else when you stared back at him.

your name was his first warning.

you shrugged and turned back to the game, mimicking a referee's whistle sound — poorly, of course — just to see if it would make megumi glance your way again.

it didn't, but you had not missed the way he'd quickened his steps, an act to try and free himself from being forced to listen to your constant shouts and yells.

"megumi! spell red!" you called out to him, your hands cupping your mouth. he turned around and narrowed his eyes at you, a menacing glint circling in each of his irises. "no? okay, i'll do it for you! L — S — T — E — R —"

the field erupted with laughter.

number six, todo, was the first to lose it, nearly doubling over as he slapped his thigh, while yuji could barely stay upright, clutching his sides and wheezing between gasps of air. the entire team seemed to pause, their focus on the game completely derailed, as they recalled the viral meme and the ridiculousness of your performance.

yaga, however, was not amused. he blew his whistle sharply, barking at the players to get back into formation, his forehead veins looking like they might burst at any second.

"keep laughing, and you'll all be running laps until the sun sets!" he roared, but his threats only managed to stifle the laughter into barely concealed snickers. "and you — stop opening that damned mouth of yours!"

meanwhile, megumi shot you a glare so venomous, it could have melted steel. his fists clenched at his sides, and you could see the subtle rise and fall of his shoulders as he tried to rein in his irritation.

"stop," he snapped, his voice dripping with exasperation.

"all right, all right," you sighed, before cupping your mouth again. "spell megumi! T — O — J — Y!"

megumi stood in the centre of the grassy field, arms by his sides, like a child refusing to comply to rules. you could see the way his jaw had clenched at your joke.

he had always had this incessant need to be right. to correct you when you were wrong. to show off his brilliance.

you could see him fighting a losing battle.

"that's not how you spell my dad's name —" he'd started angrily, but the sound of yaga's whistle had cut through anything you had wanted to say in response.

"IS THIS THE SPELLING BEE?" he demanded, irate. "fushiguro!" he'd all but bellowed, teeth gritted. "why are your legs not moving?"

megumi turned to face his teacher.

"she spelled my dad's name wrong —"

"IS YOUR DAD HERE TO BEAR WITNESS?"

"..."

"GET BACK TO YOUR TEAMMATES!"

megumi had made a move to leave, but at the sound of your snickers, he stopped, lifting his arm and pointing it in your direction.

"kick her out," he'd said — correction: demanded — without hesitation.

your mouth fell open in sheer disbelief, arms extended outwards in confusion as you glared at megumi like he'd just committed the ultimate betrayal.

kick you out? the audacity, you mentally marvelled.

you weren't even on the field, which you could've easily invaded if you had wanted to. you were merely offering a bit of moral support (albeit in your own unique, slightly chaotic way).

"that's a breach of my human rights," you alerted both your teacher and your friend. then, you shifted your attention to only coach yaga. "he's not even participating! personally, i think he should be benched!"

"l/n, sit down and SHUT UP!"

"no, seriously!" you insisted, crouching down to untie your shoelaces. "i can replace him on the field!"

megumi turned around again to face you this time. even though his helmet made it hard to see his face properly, you could see the way he'd narrowed his eyes at you. "you don't even know how to play properly —"

"well i'd do a hell of a lot better than what you're doing," you told him, standing up again and folding your arms over your chest. "which is nothing, by the way."

coach yaga had had enough:

"FUSHIGURO, STOP ENGAGING WITH HER AND MOVE UP THE FIELD!"

megumi faced the angry man with, no doubt, a glare of his own. "she's —"

"NOW!" yaga had bellowed, and you could only laugh at the way megumi's fists had clenched, but he'd obediently ran towards the other players (not without shooting you a glower, though).

you chuckled at his reaction, but choked on it when coach yaga had mercilessly turned to you next.

"SIT. DOWN. L/N," he ordered you, the hand holding the whistle lined with angry veins threatening to pop. you could see one on his forehead, too.

you opened your mouth to oppose, but he'd blown his whistle so you couldn't even hear yourself speak.

and this had become a recurring theme.

any time your lips would part — whether to cheer for a play, yell sarcastic advice at megumi, or protest yaga's increasingly dictatorial tone — the sharp, ear-piercing sound of his whistle cut through the air, drowning you out completely. he'd positioned himself nearby, whistle ready at his lips, as though waiting for the exact moment you dared to utter a sound.

you even tried whispering once, only for him to blow it louder than ever, causing you to flinch and clutch your ears.

the message was clear: coach yaga would not tolerate your antics.

but his overzealous whistle-blowing had unintended consequences, ones that had you giggling into your hands.

the players, accustomed to the whistle being a signal for key game instructions, had begun growing confused by the constant interruptions. at one point, both kamo and logan parker hesitated mid-play, unsure whether the sharp whistle had been meant to signal an offside or something else entirely, and this had led to an awkward collision on the field — logal tripping over kamo as the latter tried to pivot too late — and the two of them ended up sprawled in a tangled heap.

and yaga, visibly frustrated by both the situation at hand and the rhythm of your constant laughter, had no choice but to bench them both, muttering something about how some people were ruining his practice.

"your hair's a mess," you told kamo, when he'd approached the bench you were standing on with his helmet beneath his arm.

"thanks, didn't notice," he responded, blowing the loose strands of his hair out of his face.

you eyed him carefully as he sat by your feet, his knees an angry shade of red where he'd fallen due to the collision.

"does that hurt?" you asked, frowning. "you could sue yaga for blowing his whistle and causing confusion."

kamo peered up at you, his elbows resting on his thighs, his back hunched over in such a way that chiropractors would be disappointed by. you couldn't quite paint what he was thinking, for his face, so devoid of any and all emotion, made it so that his lips were set in a straight line and his eyes would remain half-lidded.

"you can!" you continued, as though he'd voiced his uncertainty to you. "and you can show your knees for proof!"

kamo kept his gaze fixed on the game, following the flow of plays that unfolded without him. you couldn't quite paint what he was feeling in that moment, for his expression was a mix of irritation and fatigue as he lazily tossed his helmet to the ground with a dull clatter.

"i'll remember to bring in a formal complaint tomorrow, then," he added, his eyes following player number five, who was in possession of the ball.

"i'll be your backup!" you told him enthusiastically. when he peered up at you, expectant, you clarified yourself. "y'know, for moral support."

"hold my hand and everything?"

you grinned. "all right, don't get ahead of yourself now."

"my bad," he said, bringing a hand up to brush the stray hairs out of his face. his dark hair had been tied back with a flimsy rubber-band into a low, loose bun, which apparently proved worthless in a rough game of football.

at the centre of the field, andre johnson clapped his hands loudly, rallying the players into position as he directed the next play with precision. toge stood further back, his sharp eyes scanning the field, ready to intercept, while todo, living up to his reputation, plowed through the defence like a battering ram, drawing cheers from his teammates.

you felt bad for the players that had ended up on the floor because of his onslaught of attacks.

one of them just so happened to be yuji.

and as you jested loudly at his limp body, todo stared back at him, horrified:

"BROTHER —"

"ooh..." you marvelled, standing on your tip-toes as todo ignored the game altogether and charged the other way. everyone except for megumi had moved out of the way. "might wanna put that one on a leash..."

your eyes had darted from the game to kamo, and back again.

"no offence, kamotionless..."

"none taken."

the two of you watched as megumi extended his hand to your pink-haired, groaning friend on the floor, intrigued as he accepted his help in pulling himself up.

both their heads had turned to face you.

yuji's lips parted in a comical frown, his hand clutching his lower back as he turned to glare at you with all the indignation he could muster. you could only chuckle at him, for his pink hair was dusted with grass and dirt from the collision, and his expression screamed betrayal.

raising one hand, he offered you an exaggerated thumbs-down, shaking it slowly as though to emphasise just how unimpressed he was.

you stared back at him, brow raised as you placed a pointer finger on your chest, mouthing 'me?'.

his exaggerated nod made you scowl at him and look at megumi instead, but his stare wasn't any better, for it had lingered on you longer than necessary: his sharp eyes had darkened as they subtly drifted downwards, his expression tightening ever so slightly, though it was hard to tell if it was irritation or something else entirely.

he was still pissed at your interruption of the game from earlier, clearly, for his stance had been tinged with quiet discontent, as though he'd seen something he didn't quite like.

rude, you thought to yourself, i stopped yelling at him and i'm likeable.

whatever it was, he said nothing, his eyes snapping back to the field with a stoicism that betrayed nothing outwardly.

across the field, yaga's voice thundered over the chaos.

"ITADORI! FUSHIGURO! get back to your positions — NOW!"

yuji jumped slightly at the sheer force of his command, but megumi had barely looked fazed, as though this was a common occurrence during practice.

yuji shot one last mournful look in your direction before jogging into place, his steps a little heavier than before. megumi, on the other hand, walked briskly back into formation, his gaze focused ahead, though the rigid set of his shoulders suggested he wasn't entirely composed. yaga's glare followed them both until they were back in line, his frustration simmering visibly as he blew his whistle to resume the play.

"what's the history with you and coach yaga?" kamo had asked, which had greatly surprised, your brows raised as you stared down at him. he took your silence as a sign to continue. "yuji said you met coach yaga in middle school."

"oh my god," you beamed, hopping off the bench to sit down on it. "i'm so glad you asked!"

you dug into your pocket and retrieved your phone, tapping on it excitedly to pull up the set of images in your camera roll that you'd visit so often, it would never catch dust.

the academic years of twenty-fourteen to twenty-sixteen.

"so i met him in the sixth grade," you explained, selecting an image of him from the time you had unexpectedly pulled your phone out in the middle of the corridor and snapped a headshot. "that's what he looked like back then, so, not that different. still got that weird spiky hairstyle, except it's longer now, but you get the idea."

kamo nodded, his front leaning forward to get a good look at your phone.

"he's angry," he commented idly.

"er... yeah," you confirmed, hesitant. you slowly swiped to the next photo — yaga's realisation of the image being taken. "that's 'cause i took his photo in the middle of the hallway, so..." you shook your head quickly. "but anyway! i met him during our first middle school p.e class. we were playing dodgeball and i was standing at the back to support yuji, even though we'd just met through megumi, but if megumi liked him, then i knew he was good. and then yaga just got mad at me."

kamo watched as you showed him another picture of an angry coach yaga.

"and it was a whole thing," you settled on saying at last. "rest of our time during middle school went by with a theme of pissing yaga off. it's tradition now."

kamo raised a brow, the corner of his lips tugging upwards in mild amusement as he listened.

"sounds like you've had a pretty clear mission since day one," he said, his tone dry but his gaze alight with curiosity. he tilted his head slightly as he regarded the photo on your screen, his hand brushing back a loose strand of hair as he continued. "coach only ever turns red when you're around."

there was no judgment in his voice, just a quiet humour that seemed to match the slight, crooked smile now playing on his face.

without a word, kamo shifted subtly closer to you, leaning in as though to get a better look at the next photo. his arm rested lightly on the bench beside you, and while the movement was casual, the reduced space between you both went unnoticed — or perhaps, just unacknowledged.

you didn't seem to mind at all, and the easy flow of your conversation remained uninterrupted. if anything, the proximity only added to the comfortable rhythm of your storytelling:

"there's actually a legacy," you grinned, swiping several times to get to a particular image. "you know s— mr gojo, miss ieiri, mr nanami, and mr haibara were yaga's students back when they were in school?"

kamo didn't say anything at that. some part of you couldn't blame him, especially when you would constantly spew out nonsense that megumi would immediately shut down in front of everyone.

if you weren't you, you probably wouldn't have believed yourself either.

"at least try to look like you believe me," you scowled.

"no, i do," kamo insisted, though not very convincingly.

"no you don't."

"yeah i don't."

"okay, well, now you will," you stated, showing him the photo you'd been searching for in your packed camera roll.

it was yaga's wedding in january of two-thousand-and-six. you had chosen this particular photo because of the scene in the background: the men you knew dressed sharply in suits and ties, and the women you knew also elegantly adorned in dresses and heels.

"he's married?" kamo asked, looking genuinely surprised. it was the only time you had seen any form of emotion cross his face.

"was married," you corrected him, and then laughed as you zoomed in on his face. "got divorced years ago — look, he's bald!"

as you and kamo continued discussing yaga's wedding, the conversation spiralled into unexpected detail. you pointed out the floral arrangements in the background, commenting on how they looked oddly mismatched with the formal attire of the guests. kamo had raised an eyebrow, countering that maybe yaga had bad taste in decorators. from there, the discussion veered into an animated debate over who had possibly caught the bouquet, with you insisting it was nanami and kamo scoffing at the idea of him even participating.

but just as kamo parted his lips to counter your next argument, yaga's unmistakable voice had cut through the air.

"LOVEBIRDS!" he'd roared, the two of you looking up simultaneously towards the field where yaga stood, hands on his hips, thoroughly exasperated. "FOCUS ON THE GAME, OR LEAVE!"

you pocketed your phone again, glaring at yaga like he'd personally offended you on a cosmic level.

"he's just salty we have luscious hair," you muttered under your breath bitterly. the fact that the entire field had fallen silent didn't deter you from adding more in the slightest. "got a lot of nerve for someone with a wedding album collecting dust..."

unbeknownst to you, chad smirked knowingly, glancing towards kamo with an exaggeratedly teasing expression, waggling his eyebrows as if he'd just uncovered the secret of the universe. kamo, predictably, ignored him entirely, his focus unshaken.

meanwhile, megumi's reaction had been far sharper.

his eyes darted between you and kamo before settling firmly on you, his brow furrowing so deeply it looked like he was judging you for a crime against humanity. his glare lingered, sharp and unyielding, like you'd just desecrated something sacred — which, knowing megumi, might've been the concept of behaving during practice.

"just get him back on the field," he stated firmly, shooting coach yaga a glare.

"kid's right," said yaga, before blowing his whistle again. "KAMO, PARKER — BOTH OF YOU — BACK ON THE FIELD!"

obediently, kamo rose to his feet, brushing off his knees before bending down and retrieving his discarded helmet, and then giving a short, wordless nod to logan parker, who had been waiting nearby.

from the sidelines, yaga's gaze immediately zeroed in on you.

"AND YOU!" he barked, pointing a commanding finger. "stop distracting my players! you've got five seconds to zip it, or you're out of here!" his voice had carried across the field with the same force as his whistle.

you frowned deeply. his reaction felt like an overreaction to you — typical yaga behavior.

but then, the realisation hit you like a sudden spotlight. you glanced at your watch and felt a jolt of panic. you were supposed to stay for only a bit before heading to rehearsal.

"ah, shit! i'm late for rehearsal!" you panicked, hurriedly grabbing your bag and scrambling to leave. the theatre director was definitely not going to forgive you for being late again, especially with the lead role hanging in the balance.

as you ran across the benches, you looked over your shoulder, ignoring the crowd and team laughing at you.

"lady yaga, this is all your fault by the way!"

as you darted towards the building, the teasing chants from the football team had started fading behind you. despite the growing distance between you and them, you could hear yaga cursing you from where he stood, as though he were right next to you.

you were not, however, aware of the two pairs of eyes watching you retreat, one of them mildly amused, the other beyond annoyed.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・

bonus scene:

the cracked pavement beneath satoru's feet echoed faintly as he strolled through the unfamiliar neighbourhood.

during a conversation about toji's dark past, he had showed off to the family about never having stolen anything, as well as never being stolen from, which only resulted in ogi demanding that he walk in a sketchier neighbourhood and see if he could come back saying the same thing.

and he had been confident, of course, as he looked around at the graffiti-covered walls and flickering streetlights, which might have seemed intimidating to anyone else, but he remained blissfully unfazed, humming a tune under his breath.

in one hand, he'd held a slightly squished cupcake, the frosting a little smeared but no less delightful to him. his sunglasses perched jauntily on his nose, and his long strides carried him through the shadows as though the neighbourhood itself were lucky to have him gracing its streets.

...

that had been before he'd found himself trapped in a phone-box, the gang that had caused his sealing surrounding the box in awe.

'we seriously stole the gojo guy's money?'

'aw heck yeah! he's filthy rich, too!'

'look at that sleek, black card!'

'awesome! his phone's the new model as well!'

satoru stared at the gang leader, scowling.

his balaclava had fallen when satoru had thrown a punch at him earlier, exposing his tattooed face, the dark line that crossed his nose and the thin arrowed lines that went down his eyes.

satoru thought he looked silly with those pigtails.

"how much are those glasses?" the leader had asked, throwing his balaclava over his shoulder for one of his minions to scramble for.

satoru, his neck bent in an attempt to not bump his head, flashed him a grin.

"more than you can afford."

the guy gritted his teeth at him. satoru felt satisfaction bloom in his chest at that, but he noted how the tattooed male could be no older than seventeen or eighteen. what the hell was he doing as a leader of a gang?

"but you should probably open the door to try and get them," satoru suggested, bending down a little to meet the kid's face.

"i'm not stupid," the kid scowled. he was bagging all of satoru's expensive belongings right in front of him.

"if you were smart, you wouldn't style your hair like a five year old girl."

"if you were smart, you would dye your hair."

satoru scowled at him. "if you continued your education, you wouldn't need to join a gang for money."

the kid didn't look too pleased with satoru's rapid riposte, for he looked around at his minions, slinging the bag of satoru's possessions over his shoulder, and turning away with a raised brow.

"come and get your stuff," he had challenged the trapped, white-haired male, who could only watch in anger as one of the minions marvelled at his stolen cupcake.

his cupcake.

satoru let out an exaggerated groan, his head lightly thudding against the very top of the glass wall of the phone box as he tilted his chin to the ceiling (that happened to be so very close to his face).

this was beyond annoying; his cupcake was gone, his wallet and phone stolen, and now he was cramped into this tiny, outdated relic of communication...

but then, a flicker of excitement sparked across his face, the edges of his mouth curling upwards.

out of all the traps he could've been stuck in, it had to be a phone box. how retro. how tragically iconic.

with a sigh, he tapped the dusty dial pad, punching in one of the numbers he knew by heart: shoko's.

the faint hum of the dial tone filled the tiny space as he leaned back, arms crossed, waiting with a fading grin to hear her undoubtedly sarcastic greeting.

but it had been taking a while.

"this is such a pain," he grumbled to himself, annoyed.

and then looked up excitedly when her voice sounded through the speaker.

"hello?"

"shoko, i'm trapped in a phone box 'cause some poor kid with his gang jumped me," he explained hurriedly. it wasn't a completely accurate retelling of the story, but it got the main gist of it, and he was punched for time. "i need your help!"

there was a pause. was she seriously contemplating helping him?

"..."

"shoko?"

"hm," she hummed, her voice nasally. it usually got like that when she was working. "have you returned my lighter?"

satoru furrowed his brows. he had never promised to give that back, not when he hated it when she smoked.

"no —"

BEEEEEEP...

she had hung up.

satoru angrily punched in the numbers of another friend, one who had to be more sensible than her.

"hope she has an asthma attack," he cursed quietly, as he expectantly waited for nanami to pick up the phone.

"kento nanami, who's calling?"

as formal as ever; satoru expected no less. had he been in a better predicament, he would have made a joke about it.

"nanami!" he cheered, and then hurriedly got to the point. perhaps he ought to go a different route, if only to avoid the same outcome with smoke-addict-shoko. "remember when i helped you pay for yuu's birthday expenses?"

he heard him let out a breathy sigh from the other end of the call.

"what's this about, gojo?" he asked, sounding exhausted.

satoru explained his situation as best as he could. he had high hopes for this call — nanami was always the serious, sensible one. there was no way he'd turn him down now.

"you're stuck in a phone box with no way out?" he repeated, though even nanami wouldn't be able to fake amusement even if he tried. satoru felt his stomach drop. "what a shame."

BEEEEEEP...

and he was left with that same ringing beep...

no, the next one would work. he was certain of it.

the kfc disagreement might have occurred a year or two ago, but it was all right. satoru knew that.

they were best friends, after all.

he hurriedly pressed suguru's phone number into the dial and waited.

and waited.

and waited...

...and waited...

and then gave up.

i would've picked up his call, he thought to himself bitterly, before dialling the fushiguros' telephone.

he prayed to god that megumi would answer, and not —

"erm... hello!"

you.

he found you funny, a great kid, one to match the zenins' wit in every way. but you could be so very... chatty.

especially when he didn't have the time.

"y/n, i'm trapped in a phone box 'cause of some sketchy kids in a gang," he explained, though something in his gut knew that this was futile, "where's megumi's mom? where's your mom? in the event that she'd even care —"

"my mom is —"

but you had paused, for megumi's voice had entered the line, but distant:

"i know you stole my book, y/n. give it back."

"i didn't — ugh! satoru, i can't talk to you right now 'cause i'm in the middle of making fun of megumi 'cause he said i stole his boring, non-fiction book when i didn't —"

"— yeah i don't give a shit, where's your mom?" he interrupted, because there was only so much he could take.

your gasp on the other end of the line was telling.

and it came as no surprise to him when you hung up as revenge:

"oh you— okay! bye!"

"wait, y/n —"

BEEEEEEP...

"oh for fucks —" he began, but kept his cool as he pictured his wife. his wife who, surely, would help him. she was his only hope at this point, because if not her, then it had to be ogi.

if not her, then it had to be toji.

he shivered at the thought.

he waited for her to pick up.

"hello? who is this?"

he had no time to waste.

there was a long pause after satoru's rushed explanation, the muffled static on the other end of the line filling the silence. he leaned forwards slightly, gripping the receiver, his hope wavering as the seconds stretched on. surely, his wife was gearing up for some clever solution, for she was smart, he remembered that well during high school and college — or at least, that's what he convinced himself of.

then came the sound of her laughter.

it started low, building into something unrestrained and far too amused for his liking.

and before he could say or do anything else, she ended the call with a click, hanging up the phone herself. satoru stood there, staring at the receiver in disbelief, the faint beep of the disconnected line mocking him.

BEEEEEEP...

reluctantly, he had called both ogi and toji next, and each regret stung more than the last. ogi sounded all too pleased by the event, and had hung up to, no doubt, inform everyone he knew of 'the gojo heir' being a victim of mugging.

toji's brutal honesty hit harder.

his voice had been laced with smug amusement, delivering one dismissive insult after another before abruptly cutting the call. by the time the phone clicked silent again, satoru felt something he rarely experienced — genuine, soul-deep irritation.

with a frustrated growl, satoru clenched his fist and swung it towards the glass, the impact reverberating through the phone box.

a sharp crack echoed as small fractures spread across the surface, and a few shards broke loose, tumbling to the ground.

he flexed his fingers, inspecting the streaks of red beginning to stain his knuckles. the sight annoyed him more than the pain — bleeding wasn't part of the plan. still, the partial break in the glass was hopeful, and he prepared himself for another attempt.

as he paused to assess his next move, his gaze caught on a young blonde-haired girl walking along the street nearby. she couldn't have been older than you or megumi, about ten, her small figure striking against the gritty surroundings.

desperation took over as he called out to her, motioning with his uninjured hand. the girl stopped and turned towards him, but her wide, wary eyes said it all — she clearly thought he was some sort of lunatic. satoru would have tried to understand his viewpoint if he wasn't so irritated with his situation.

she hesitated, clutching her backpack tighter, and stared at him as though deciding whether to run or stay.

"you're a pedo!" she'd decided altogether, which only got satoru to clench his jaw at her.

his neck was starting to hurt with how the height of the phone box had bent him at its will.

"i'm not a pedo, and if i was, you'd be safe, you blonde, bob-headed, little shit."

she furrowed her brows at him, but she'd taken several steps closer, which told him that there was a certain level of trust there between them.

"i'm trapped," he explained, for the eighth time. he looked around and saw a discarded hammer on the dusty floor. "get that hammer and pass it to me through the hole i made."

"my mom told me not to speak to strangers," said the child, her white dress notable in comparison to all the dust and dirt surrounding them.

"your mom also left you unattended in this sketchy neighbourhood," said satoru, brows raised. "you think her opinion matters? help me out."

the child still seemed reluctant. satoru groaned loudly.

"i'll buy you a cupcake."

she ran over to the hammer and presented it to him. satoru encouraged her to push it through the hole, but the way she was looking at it made him pause.

and he was right to do so, for she unexpectedly held it over her head, and then slammed it into the glass window, his hands immediately going over his head to prevent the glass from cutting into his face and sensitive areas.

"sick," he marvelled, as she continued to smash up the glass.

and after a little more smashing, she had finally had her fun and handed the hammer over to satoru through a much wider hole.

he took it gratefully, looking down at her through his round glasses with his head tilted.

"might wanna step back, kid," he warned her, before releasing all his pent-up anger on the phone box, enough to smash its front in a way that made it unrecognisable.

he stepped out, throwing the hammer away, leaving it discarded somewhere forgettable behind him.

"i'm getting my stuff back."

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・

the gang gathered around satoru's possessions with wide eyes, each of them marvelling at the loot they'd just stolen. the leader, with a smug grin on his face, rifled through his wallet, fascinated by the sleek, black card inside.

"this guy's loaded," he muttered to himself, feeling more than a little victorious, for there had been four different sleek cards, and he was certain if they chose to rob his house next, they'd find more.

his fingers hovered over satoru's phone, still in pristine condition despite the earlier struggle.

the rest of the gang members, too, admired the items with greedy satisfaction.

but their smugness was short-lived.

in a blur, everything around them seemed to freeze for a moment, only to snap back into chaos. one second, they were standing in the middle of the street, basking in their victory, and the next — a flash of white filled their vision.

it was as if the world had shifted, disorienting them completely. the last thing they saw was satoru's towering presence, the white of his hair and his eyes like blinding light.

then, with only one warning from one of the members ("guys, he's coming! he's coming!"), they found themselves in a dark alley, each of them battered and exhausted, sprawled out on the ground.

the gang leader himself could taste blood in his mouth, his head swimming as he tried to piece together what had just happened in the space of five minutes. his body screamed in pain, the bruises already beginning to form, and his mind struggled to understand the impossible speed of the attack.

they hadn't stood a chance.

satoru stood over him now, his foot casually pressing down on the younger man's face, pinning him to the ground with alarming ease. his grin was feral, manic — a dangerous gleam in his eyes.

his possessions, now securely back in his grasp, were scattered around him, including the cupcake, which he held up to his lips, barely noticing the bloodstained mess of the street around him. his body was tense, like a coiled spring, filled with untamed energy as he looked down at the leader with barely-contained excitement...

there was something unnerving about the way he was smiling — something wild and unhinged, as if the fight, the chase, and the thrill had unlocked something primal within him. he was terrifying, but utterly in control of himself, and the chaos surrounding him.

"heh," he laughed to himself, throwing the bag over his shoulder. "i get why toji used to do this all the time. look at your faces!"

he eyed them all, noticing one thing they all had in common. he laughed loudly.

they were all japanese.

"what is this, the yakuza?" he joked, taking a bite out of his cupcake.

he deserved more sweet treats, he decided. perhaps he would go downtown to treat himself again.

his eyes had landed on the very criminal that had taken his cupcake intentionally. he walked away from the gang leader and bent down to present it to him again.

"want a bite?" he teased.

when he didn't respond, satoru stood up straight again.

"what, you scared?"

but despite asking the question, he didn't wait for a response. instead, he turned around, spotting the little, blonde girl that had helped him out, and walked off without looking back.

"go back to school," he advised them. "you guys are shit criminals."

satoru strolled over to the little blonde girl, who looked up at him expectantly, her bright eyes wide and curious. her expression was a mix of confusion and caution, as though she wasn't quite sure what to make of the strange man who had just singlehandedly obliterated a gang.

satoru, unfazed, reached into his wallet with a casual flick of his wrist, extracting a five-dollar bill. he held it out to her with a grin, his earlier manic energy fading into something far more playful.

"here, kid. get yourself something nice," he said with a wink.

"my name's hana," she told him, taking the bill. "hana kurusu."

he raised his brows at her.

"good to know," he'd said, and without waiting for a reply, turned on his heel, the faintest chuckle escaping his lips as he walked away.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・

notes: turns out my law exam i told you about went super well (got an A, woohoo!) and i was being dramatic lmao. so half this chapter was scenes i knew you’d be happy with, the other half was a lot of kamo, which i knew a lot of you hate me for, but it had to be done ‘cause i was right about the shit sociology test :/ lmao anyway, this was basically just some filler hahaa (with semi-plot!) 😼

previous chapter :)

next chapter :)

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© tojiscrack (previously ack4rwoman)

i do not own any of the characters of jjk, i only own the character of y/n and her mother. the other characters belong to gege akutami.

if you enjoyed my writing, i’d really appreciate it if you tipped me — tumblr no longer has the tip function, so maybe here in my tip jar :)

[lumosinlove]

Vaincre

Part VII

~

So so grateful for all of you who love this story even when I take forever to post!! Happy holidays to all <3 <3

~

No, there's nothin' you can

send me, my own true

love

There's nothin' I'm wishin'

To be ownin'

Just to carry yourself

Back to me unspoiled

From across that

Lonesome ocean

~

Remus ran down the cottage’s porch steps and threw his arms around Lily. It was easy to lose service out at the lake, and he’d last talked to her at the coffee shop he’d always stopped at halfway through the drive from Gryffindor. He had a beloved photograph of Sirius and Julian sitting at an outside table there, the first time Sirius had come to the lake. He’d tried his best to specifically explain the forks and bends in the roads to Lily, but it was still a relief to see them getting out of their car.

“You made it,” Remus said into her shoulder.

“Sure did. Wow. This is the cutest.” Lily gave Remus one more squeeze before pulling back. She pushed her sunglasses into her hair and smiled up at the cabin. “J, look.”

“Hold on, you know this buckle hates me.”

Remus squinted against the sun to see James with his entire upper body in the backseat of the car. When he emerged, he was red-faced and holding Harry—who was already squirming towards Sirius. The slight delay of James closing the car door was even too much for him. Harry burst into tears, then abruptly stopped as Sirius jogged down the porch steps and scooped him away from James. Remus couldn’t make out what Sirius said to him, but he could read the broad smile on his face just fine.

“Oh, it is cute, for sure,” James said. He had his hands on his hips, and maybe a few cheerios in his hair, as he looked over the cottage, then Sirius. “Yeah, hi, good to see you, too, friend.”

“Sorry, sorry,” Sirius said appeasingly, but held a hand out for James to clap and bring their shoulders together. “How was the drive?”

“Very pretty.” James shaded his eyes to look down the stone pathway that offered a glimmering sliver of the lake. He whistled. “That looks inviting.”

Lily brought Remus’ attention back to her with a squeeze to his hands. “How are you, Lupin? Feeling almost married?”

“More almost each day.” Remus wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “Come in, we’ve got lunch.”

Maybe Remus shouldn’t have been surprised when Julian and Harry took to each other immediately. Harry couldn’t do much, but he could giggle at whatever Julian was doing and take the small pieces of food Julian held out to him. He could sit in the waves while Julian safe-guarded him against any bigger swells caused by a passing boat. If his mom squeezed his hand when she caught Remus watching them one day with his sunglasses firmly hiding his damp eyes, well, that was fine.

James and Sirius took to each other, too, even after just a short time apart. There was lots of football and jumping off the raft to catch flying passes. Remus didn’t mind. With his parents reading in the shade of the lake-facing porch up above and Julian entertaining Harry a few paces away, he basically had Lily to himself, which almost never happened.

“This is heaven,” she said. “Like, it’s more heaven than a tropical resort or something. I mean, the house is right there, it’s way cooler and less humid than some island, and I have you to make me a drink.”

Remus smiled. “I’m glad you like it here.”

“Would I ever have seen this place if you hadn’t started playing?”

“You? Yeah, if you wanted. Everyone else? Probably not if I never got with Sirius.”

She nodded slowly, turning the ice cubes that clinked against her cup. Her hair was pulled back in a low bun, and she had a large, floppy hat shading her face. Remus reached forward and lifted the brim with two fingers.

“What’s up?” he asked.

“Yeah, yeah,” she said. “I was just thinking about…I don’t know. James has been down about losing the season like this. And maybe—” Lily flipped the brim up and turned to him. Her green eyes were the clear color of the lake. “Okay, I forgot after winning the Cup last year about how every summer’s beginning was like…It’s like they forget they’re good at their jobs. And that it’s going to be okay. And this year…It’s just back. James has been so hard on himself.” She sighed. “And probably losing Logan made it even harder, but he’s been down.” She looked back out at the water. Slowly, a smile crossed her face. “I don’t know. I’m rambling. But look at those lunatics out there. It’s just nice to see him smile.”

Remus nodded. Sirius and James were treading water near the raft. Their voices carried across the water, though he couldn’t make out their words. He didn’t need to. James made Sirius laughed so hard that his head disappeared under the water for a second before he surfaced again, flicking his dark hair out of his eyes.

“Ugh, the cutest,” Lily said.

Remus watched Sirius splutter and toss the football at James’ head. “Hm, yeah.”

“Okay, yeah, but I meant those two.” Lily held up her phone towards Julian and Harry. “Boys! Over here!”

“How do you want us?” James shouted over the water. He already had his arm around Sirius’ shoulders, grinning and ready for a photo.

“Not you,” Lily said, waving Sirius and James off.

“No, no,” Remus laughed and reached for his own phone. “Stay like that.”

Julian pointed at Lily so Harry would look, then tickled him into another grin. James wrapped both of his arms around Sirius and pulled like he was trying to lift him up, startling Sirius into a laughing one in his own.

The sight tightened Remus’ throat. He almost forgot to take the picture as he stared over the edge of his sunglasses instead.

“Did you do it?” Sirius called, then pushed James down again into the water.

Remus nodded, flashing a thumbs up.

“Anyway,” Lily sighed. “When does Logan play? James with his little hockey-pout face wants to watch.”

“Rangers are up against the Lightning tonight,” Remus said. “And yeah. I don’t think Sirius has fully realized Tremz isn’t a Lion anymore. I mean, really. Like, even less realization than Finn and Leo.”

“Yeah, those two cubs seem to be doing better.”

“Mhm,” Remus said. “I hope so.”

“Mais, non, non—” A shout of laughter came from the water, and a fast flow of French that got garbled as Sirius did a cannonball off the raft and caught the football. Remus didn’t know what the rules of their game were, but James, floating nearby, wiped the water from his eyes and looked devastated.

Remus leaned forward, digging his cup into the sand. Sirius surfaced again with the football held high. He shook his soaking hair out of his face, threw his head back, and whooped. It traveled to them over the waves, through the sound of sifting sand and Harry’s babbling. Sirius dunked his head again, and his dark hair plastered back from his face. The smile was still in place. Remus knew all about the down of a poorly ended season. In college, getting knocked out early and having to go to classes with that weight on his chest had felt like hell for the first two weeks. And Sirius Black didn’t do just down. He did devastated and punishing. He did end of the world and hard work and nextyearnextyearnextyear.

But there he was. In Remus’ lake, laughing like—

“Re?”

“Yeah,” Remus whispered. He tore his eyes away, looking at her. “Sorry, sorry, yeah?”

Lily had her hat flipped back again. He was watching him carefully with a small smile on her face.

“Sorry I didn’t hear what you said,” Remus said. “I…”

“That’s all right.” Lily leaned forward, too, checking on Harry once when he let out a loud shriek, before turning back to him. “What’s up?”

“He doesn’t always…” Remus passed his fingers over his mouth, over a smile. “It’s kind of like what you said about James. About summer. But it’s also the opposite. Sirius…He doesn’t always laugh like that.”

If there was anything Remus knew, it was Sirius Black’s face. He knew it guarded, and he knew it open.

“Like a little kid’s laugh,” Remus said softly.

“Pretty deep for a little kid.”

Remus grinned at her. “No, like—”

Lily put a soft hand on his arm. “I’m joking, Re. You’re right.” She squeezed his fingers and let go. “It is. It is nice. I mean…You were there. Before.” She shut one eye against the sun. “Did you love him then?”

“Love? No. Want? Maybe. Mostly I just…I don’t know why because he was fucking mean to me…” He smiled. “But I—no, really. You were there. He was so stubborn. Honest to God, I don’t think he trusted me until his ankle.”

“He’s Sirius Black,” Lily said. “I don’t think he was raised to be trusting.”

“That’s why I like hearing that laugh,” Remus said. “Fuck, Lils, I love that laugh.”

The boys were swimming in now. Julian had Harry in his lap and was waving at them.

“Good thing you’re getting that laugh for life, then.” Lily held up her drink. “To good laughs for a good life.”

Remus picked up his own drink. “Oh yeah, you’ve got one of your own.” He clinked his glass to Lily’s, sand sprinkling between them. “To good laughs for a good life.”

Lily flipped her hat back down. “Okay, okay, before we cry, let’s watch their abs appear from the water.”

“Oh, for sure.”

~

Maybe it was a slight miscalculation on Finn and Leo’s part to walk Logan to Madison Square Garden for his third game against the Lightning, but if there was anything that was worth getting a few good-natured heckles for losing their series, it was watching the Rangers fans waiting at the players’ entrance absolutely fawn over Logan.

Really, for Finn, it was watching fans fawn over Logan while Logan held on tightly to Leo’s hand. It was holding Logan’s bag for him while he…signed a man’s body.

“You really want me to sign…” Logan was staring apprehensively at a shoulder a man was offering him. “For a tattoo?”

“Don’t mess up,” Leo said, then grinned at Logan’s pleading eyes. “Just saying.”

“yeah, yeah,” the man said, grinning. “Just your signature and number. Please. Thank you.”

“Aha,” Finn said, holding up a finger. “Which number?”

“Oh, ten,” the man said hurriedly. “Please. I’m a firm believer that you’ll be back to ten some day.”

Logan looked at Finn.

“Would you look at that,” Finn said.

Smiling, Logan took a breath and uncapped the Sharpie. “D’accord.”

He signed his name and number more slowly than he usually would have, tongue peaking out in concentration. 

“Tongue, tongue,” Finn whispered, nudging his elbow into Leo’s side.

“Shh…” Leo was trying hard not to smile.

Logan had had to let go of Leo’s hand to hold the man steady, and Leo wandered closer to Finn, slinging an arm around his shoulders. Others were taking videos, and Finn felt some of the cameras train on them once Logan had finished signing. He flicked his sunglasses down over his eyes, half because he knew he needed to take it easy on direct sunlight for a while yet, and half so he could just stare at Logan all he wanted while he slipped his arm around Leo’s waist.

“Okay?” Leo whispered back, settling his hand over Finn’s.

“Yeah,” Finn said. “Just taking it easy.”

“There you go.” Logan sucked air through his teeth, surveying his work, then laughed and capped the pen.

“Thank you,” the man said, bending to look. “Thanks so much.”

Finn would have thought the guy’s enthusiasm was a little over the top, but he could pinpoint at least a couple times in his life when he would have gladly let Logan Tremblay write all over him.

“Thanks, guys,” Logan said with a wave. He looked back at Leo and Finn. “Ready?”

Finn hitched Logan’s bag more over his shoulder. “Lead on, Ten.”

Finn saw the way Logan’s shoulders relaxed once they reached the elevator, away from prying eyes. He held out his hand to Finn. “You really didn’t have to carry my bag for me. Feels like you’re dropping me off at class.”

“Should have packed you a lunch,” Leo said.

Logan took his bag, shouldered it, and stepped into Leo’s space. “What would be in my lunch?”

“Oh, the usual,” Leo said. “Turkey sandwich, apple slices, a cookie…” Leo slid his hands around Logan’s waist. “A note telling you that I can’t wait for you to get home so…” The rest was lost to Finn as Leo bent and whispered into Logan’s ear.

It was all right that he didn’t hear. He got to watch Logan sway into him like Leo had hooked his very heart and pulled.

“See you for your nap,” Leo said sweetly. He tucked his hands behind his back and gave Logan a quick kiss.

Logan narrowed his eyes at Leo as he put a hand on Finn’s chest, twisting his t-shirt in his fist. Okay, fine, Finn was hooked, too. “Yeah, if I nap.”

Finn wrapped Logan up in a short hug, knotting his fingers in his hair. “Hey Tremblay…Sign my ass.”

Logan pulled back, shoving Finn away. But he was smiling, brighter than Finn had ever thought any of them would be able to do in this place.

“Game three,” Finn said. “You got this.”

They watched the elevator doors close, Logan leaning over to see them until he was just one green eye. Until he couldn’t anymore. They waved off the remaining fans when they walked back to the street level. Finn made straight for the subway—he didn’t want to be in this traffic hell Midtown longer than he had to. Leo followed him closely, their knuckles brushing until Finn hooked their little fingers together, then took his hand.

“So, what’d you whisper?”

Leo’s laugh echoed off the tiles as they descended the stairs underground. “Maybe you’ll find out later.”

“I hope so.” Finn let Leo through to the platform first, then went through himself. “Alex always dared me to jump these, and I never could. Lo did it once. First time he came home to the city with me.”

Leo raised his eyebrows. “That stray freshman puppy you found did that?”

Finn grinned, putting his hands in the pockets of his shorts. “He was trying to impress me. He just didn’t know it yet. Spent the rest of the time waiting for the train looking over his shoulder all nervous.”

“Okay, that’s more like him.” As the train began to pull into the station, a rush of air that did absolutely nothing to break the heat ruffled Leo’s hair. Leo nudged a toe of his sneaker against Finn’s. “Hey, where you taking me?”

Finn reached out and touched the blond strands, then settled a hand against Leo’s cheek. “Surprise.”

Leo wrinkled his nose. “I’m sweaty, sorry.”

“Like that’s ever bothered me.”

As the doors opened and Finn shuffled them inside, he caught Leo eyeing the pole distastefully.

“Hang onto me instead,” Finn said, taking Leo’s hands and placing them on his waist.

“And what are you gonna hold onto?”

“My New Yorker feet.”

Leo rolled his eyes but squeezed his hips. “Twenty bucks say you fall.”

“Not with you holding onto me.”

Leo eyed him until the doors slid shut with a ding and the train lurched forward. Finn balanced like he’d been doing his whole life, easing them both into the train’s rocking and jolting with his hands on Leo’s hips. He tilted his forehead down to Leo’s and winked.

“All right, city-boy. Now really,” Leo said, their lips brushing. “Where are we going?”

“Somewhere,” Finn replied. “But don’t worry. We’ll be home in time for me to buy you take-out and watch baby play.”

Finn led them back onto street level when they reached uptown. The sun felt brighter up here, with Central Park relieving some of the crowded, hot feeling that the buildings gave out. Sweat shone on Leo’s temples as he put his sunglasses on.

“Hmm,” Leo said. “Okay. Interesting.”

“You game to walk across the park?” Finn asked. “Because we’re walking across the park.”

“I’m game for anything. But I have one condition.”

“Name it.”

“I want to make out under a tree on our way.”

Finn closed his eyes and turned into Leo. He kissed the salty skin of his neck. “That’s not a condition. That’s a reward.”

“You’re walking with your eyes closed.”

Finn smiled and opened them. He brought Leo’s hand up to kiss. “Sometimes feeling you and seeing you at the same time are just too much.”

He liked the way it made Leo stare at him. He slapped a hand against Finn’s chest, but kept it there. “Shut up.”

“Pick a spot.”

Leo looked forward. They weren’t in short supply. There were baseball diamonds just ahead of them and The Great Lawn beyond that, speckled with picnic blankets and kids running around.

“C’mon,” Leo said. “Let’s get your pretty little head out of the sun.”

Leo jogged ahead, but Finn didn’t mind. He stopped when he found a dappled spot of shade and waited for Finn there, spreading his arms out with a grin before sitting down in the grass.

“Here!” he called. “Get your butt over here, city-boy, and sit in the dirt and grass.”

‘Yikes,” Finn teased, but he let himself down beside Leo with a huff, being careful of his shoulder. “You think I don’t sit in grass?”

“You do love a good leather booth and bistro chair.”

Finn laughed. “Fair.”

“Speaking of.”

“Speaking of?”

Leo leaned in and brushed their noses together. “Take-out is nice. But I think tonight you should take me, sit me down practically in your lap in one of those leather booths, and order us ice cold martinis and that to-die-for steak at that place we love. Then you take me home to watch Logan play.”

Finn grinned and hooked a finger in Leo’s closest belt loop. “In my lap, you say?”

“Yes. The place where they have those garage doors that open and let all the heat in.”

“Okay, I will.”

“So I can start the night watching the sun set, and end it in a dim enough corner for kissing until a waiter has to clear their throat to get our attention.”

“I thought the kisses were reserved for this very tree right here.”

Leo smiled as he tilted his head into Finn’s palm when he cupped his cheek. “Your ears get pink—” His words broke off into Finn’s first kiss. “—when you drink gin.”

“You and Lo say that about everything.” Finn kissed the corner of his mouth, his jaw, before finding his mouth again.

“We think about it a lot.”

Finn felt his cheeks warm when Leo reached up and tweaked his ear. Maybe he did prefer booths and bistros and couches and warm soft chairs that bookstores kept in their corners, but when Leo laid him down in the grass of the very place he used to wonder about finding someone, about loving someone, he wouldn’t have traded it for the world. Leo’s mouth was soft. He kept Finn still and heavy with kisses that made Finn feel like the warm earth was becoming as cloudy as his head. Everything was so soft, so smudged and perfect, that he almost missed it when Leo said—

“I missed you.”

“I missed you, too, Le.” His time with Logan was invaluable, but there was nothing like the three of them. Nothing at all. “But you came back to me happier, so—”

“No, I mean…” Finn felt him press his mouth down on his shoulder before Leo pulled back to look at him. He was framed by the sky. “I missed you while I was away, yes. But I missed you in the locker room after what Jack did. And when you were home but you were hurting and not yourself. And I missed you when—when…”

“When Logan got traded,” Finn said softly.

“Yeah,” Leo said shakily. He stroked Finn’s hair back from his face. He bent down and kissed the shell of Finn’s ear then came back smiling. “Yeah.”

Finn wished he could see the two of them. The way Leo put one thigh over his, and the grass stain on his t-shirt.

“Needed this,” Leo sighed.

Finn kissed the corner of Leo’s mouth. “I’d like a list of all the things you need, ranked in the order you’d like them.”

Leo’s laugh was soft, and Finn kissed his left dimple when it appeared. “Finn…”

“Okay, fine, we’ll start here,” Finn whispered. “Help me and this slightly bum shoulder up, and come with me.”

~

The cottage always seemed to take the sunset into its very paint and walls. It soaked through the windows and made it almost impossible to sit at the dining room table without the gauzy white curtains drawn. Those curtains turned the lake into a glistening blur. It set the rosé glasses on fire. Remus wanted to sit between Lily and Sirius and look at Harry happily babbling from his mother’s lap for the rest of his life.

“So, Logan’s sisters called me—well, Noelle called me,” Remus said. “And they’re sticking around in New York until the Rangers—you know.”

“Win or lose,” Julian supplied, and then knocked on wood at the same time as Remus. Sirius was holding the wooden salad bowl to pass to Hope and drummed his fingers on it once.

“Right,” Remus said. “So, that’ll happen. And then they’re going to be at the Shore Hotel, so that’s really close. And Logan is surprising Leo and Finn with a cabin, they think they’re staying at a hotel.” Remus put a hand on the sun-warmed back of Sirius’ neck.

“Ouais,” Sirius said. “I told him to get one because if we’re doing what we said—you get ready here at the cottage, I thought I would get ready with Reg, James, Tremz and Pascal there.” Sirius took Remus’ hand and kissed it, smiling. “Then I meet you at the end of the dock.”

“I have so many plans,” James said. “I mean, Dumo vetoed like eighty percent of them, but I still have so many plans.”

Sirius grinned. “Maybe I have plans, too.”

“What?” James shook his head. “No, I do. You can’t have plans, you’re the—one of the grooms!”

“I also have plans,” Lily cut in, looping her arm through Remus’. At Remus’ face she patted his cheek. “Super chill plans. Leo and I brought Talker down a few notches.”

“A few?”

“A lot of notches.”

“Hold up,” James said. “Whose side is Finn on?”

“He requested to, and I quote, ‘wander between the two,’” Lily said.

“Classic,” Remus said.

“Oh, those O’Hara boys are just the sweetest,” Hope said. Harry slapped the table as if in agreement.

“Why do all parents love Finn so much?” James asked.

“He’s just charming, that’s all,” Lily said. “But yeah, I don’t know how he’s going to pull it off, but he wants to wander.”

“If we forget any last minute things, he can run to the shops,” Hope said.

“I actually think he’d love that,” Sirius laughed.

Remus grabbed for another bread roll and Sirius passed him the butter without a word.

“Plans or no plans,” Remus said. “My original point was we have dates for everyone’s arrival, no matter how far the Rangers make it. Literally all we have to do is remember to pick stuff up.”

Hope hummed. “You’d be surprised at how difficult that can be. The flowers are late, the cake is late—it turns into a whole thing.”

“For sure,” Remus said, but smiled at her then pulled a face at Harry who giggled. “But do I really need flowers and cake or do I just need my husband?”

“For sure,” Lily parroted. “But your guests definitely need flowers and cake.”

Julian raised a hand. “I totally need cake.”

James raised both hands. “I totally need flowers. For reasons that are beyond me.”

Remus laughed and felt Sirius stretch his arm out over the back of his chair. He knew it meant Sirius only needed one thing for this wedding, too, and it was him.

“What kind of plans?” Remus knelt on their bed to push open the windows. The night had cooled, and he wanted to clear out some of the stuffiness the day’s heat had trapped. He got hot enough with Sirius pressed up against his back all night.

Sirius looked up from where he’d been checking the time on his phone. “Puck drop in five. Plans for what?”

“About your bachelor party, you said you had plans.”

Sirius laughed. “Reg and I were talking about it. I just wanted to freak James out a little. We’re gonna have dinner at that place you showed me. Play pool, darts.”

Remus pushed himself off the bed. “Dinner, huh?”

“Oh, come on.” Sirius clicked his tongue. “You know me. Dumo will order good wine, Leo will order the best—”

“Hey, hey, hey.” Remus pointed a finger at him. “Leo’s on my team.”

“Your team?”

“My team.”

Remus loved that outraged, amused smile Sirius was giving him now. He gave it to refs, he gave it to Logan. Remus wouldn’t choose it over the little-kid laugh, but it was something—especially as Sirius walked across their room’s creaking floorboards and set two palms down on either side of Remus’ hips, pressing into the old mattress springs and making them whine.

“Creek creek,” Remus whispered. He tilted his mouth up to brush Sirius’.

“So, we have teams now,” Sirius whispered back. He kissed Remus so lightly. A feather, there-and-gone.

“And here you were thinking you’d finally gotten me on yours,” Remus put his arms around Sirius’ neck, pushing until Sirius was straightening and Remus could put his socked toes on Sirius’ toes and press their bodies together, standing there in a bedroom he’d been sleeping in since he was little.

Sirius smiled. “Almost.” Both his palms pushed under Remus’ t-shirt. “So close. Any day now.”

“Hey, Cap!” James’ voice came from below. “Lo’s taking first face-off!”

Remus sighed. “Self-torture.” Then, he kissed Sirius’ protests until they tasted like a smile.

~

Leo recognized the steps immediately. They were broad and stone and timeless, leading up to stone pillars. School kids were led in lines—the little ones jubilant, the older ones shuffling. Tourists raised their cameras high, and groups of people on their lunch break made clusters at various heights.

“You’re sweet,” Leo said. “You took me to the MET?”

Finn smiled. “I like watching you look at things. And besides, we better do it while Lo’s busy or else he’ll sulk if we bring him along and sulk if we leave him behind.”

“A-plus timing,” Leo laughed as they began to climb. “Hey, speaking of Lo. I think he doesn’t want to ask if we’ll come to Florida…but.”

“Oh, he definitely wants us to come to Florida.” Finn reached for his wallet. “I can feel it when he stares—” Leo snorted, Finn tilted his head back, laughing as they crossed into the grand entrance hall. “You know the stare.”

Leo pushed his nose into Finn’s cheek, eyes wide open. “This one?”

“Bit of an exaggeration and also wildly true.”

Leo grinned. “You, Logan, ocean. Sounds good to me.” He looked down at the red member card Finn had gotten out. “You keep a membership while you live in a different city?”

“I am nothing if not loyal, Butter.” He held his card out to the guard waiting in front of a long, white room flooded with light.

“One guest?” She scanned his card.

“Yes, indeed.” Finn smiled at her.

“Your name is Butter?” she asked.

Leo stared at her, trying to figure out if she was being serious. She just looked back with slightly uninterested blue eyes.

“I…” Leo nodded. “Yes. My name is Butter. Thanks.”

He pulled Finn into the waiting galleries before she could see him laughing.

~

Logan found a spot on the floor while they waited for coach to get the pre-game video loaded. He stretched his legs out, kneading one of his thighs. Percy was singing, Will was trying to cover his mouth, and Saint was watching them both with narrowed eyes. Logan didn’t know if he knew he was crushing the red bull can in his hands, but Luke gently eased it out of his fingers and drained the remaining liquid.

“Hey.” Alex settled himself down beside him.

“Hey,” Logan said. He sent him a quick smile, then did a double take. “Hey…”

Alex might not be Finn, but Logan liked to think he knew his O’Haras. He knew that lilac color. He knew that slightly vacant brown-eyed stare that only came out when Finn was trying oh-so very hard to be all right. Logan had put that look on his face more than once. He didn’t like seeing it.

“What’s wrong?” Logan asked quietly as someone turned the lights out in the room. The screen flickered to life, showing Florida’s starting line frozen in the middle of a play.

“Hm?” Alex didn’t look at him.

“Maybe I’m summoned when you get that look on your face.”

Alex, recognizing his own words, let out a tired laugh. He glanced Logan’s way.

Logan pushed their shoulders together. “By my inner Finn.”

“I’m all right,” Alex said.

Logan waited, keeping his eyes ahead as Coach began to talk through defense. It felt nice to sit surrounded by teammates. Nice to be in the dark. He was tired and exhilarated all at once, heart fast but limbs sore.

“It’s kind of—I don’t know. I was wrong,” Alex said softly. “You know when you just play something out in your head, but it turns out that what you were thinking only makes sense in your head?”

“If Finn was here—” And maybe Logan couldn’t stand that he wasn’t, that Leo wasn’t, and he wasn’t sure if that feeling was ever going to give him any peace, “he would say I’m the dictionary picture of that.”

Alex smiled slightly. “That boy has a lot of sayings.”

“That boy?”

“What? My baby brother? Fish-Finn.”

Logan smiled. “I remember hearing you call him Fish the first time.”

“When?”

“Well—not the best time. First concussion.”

Alex’s face lit up, but only in recognition. “Oh, that’s right. You were asleep in the chair.”

“Yeah. That was the first time I dreamed about kissing him. Ever.”

Alex’s eyebrows went up. “And you’re telling me I woke you up from that?”

“Yeah, fuck you.”

It earned Logan a smile at least. Alex still looked troubled as he returned his eyes to the screen. They listened. Logan took note of positions and numbers and the warning that there was some bad blood towards him and number 56 wanted to fight. When he shrugged, Luke and Percy laughed at him.

The lights came up to soon, and he was left looking at Alex as they both squinted a little in the sudden brightness.

Alex patted a hand on his chest. “I’ll be okay, Tremz. Really. Let’s do this first.”

The words seemed tired, but not like a lie.

~

Ice Floes. Claude Monet.

Finn’s shoulder pressed warmly against Leo’s as they stared at the hazy white landscape. The gallery was calm around them. A tour group murmured in another room. Two older women sat on the bench with their canes between their knees.

“For Lo’s birthday once,” Finn said softly. “I took him to a pond to skate because he said he missed it. Looked like this.”

“That first birthday you knew him, right?”

“Uh-huh.” Finn’s pinky finger found Leo’s and he hooked them together. “And—well, you know the rest of that story.”

“That I do.” Leo shivered just remembering it. His eyes found the small, paint scratched signature in the painting’s corner. A thought made him laugh.

“What?” Finn asked.

“Artists sign their work.” Leo pointed to it. “That man wanted Logan to think he was a piece of art.”

Finn laughed—maybe too loudly for a museum. “That man could only be art because he wants Logan’s name tattooed on his body.”

“Oh? Do you want Logan’s name tattooed on your body?”

“No,” Finn said, but he tilted his head. “I would, however, like Logan to get some more tattoos.”

“Mm, yeah.” Leo leaned his temple against Finn’s. “Where? Arm?”

“Forearm.”

“Forearm, yeah. Collarbone.”

“Oh, yeah, good one. Back?”

“Mm. No, I like it as it is.”

“True,” Finn said. “You’d look good with a tattoo.”

Leo wrinkled his nose. “Eh.”

“You would. I’m not a tattoo person. I don’t think.”

“There’s something pretty about just you and all your freckles.” Leo squeezed their linked fingers. “Your head okay? Shoulder?”

“Knees and toes, knees and toes…”

Leo laughed. “Okay, okay. Where to next?”

They walked back downstairs to the bright sky-lit rooms of ancient Greece and Rome. They passed the large column, the intricate vases of fighting warriors and seated Gods. Leo wondered if he could find any replicas of the pretty Roman glass. He lost a wandering Finn while he was taking photographs to show his mom, but found him again in front of Heracles. He had his head tilted at the statue’s thick chest, only covered by the paws of the thick lion skin draped across the statue’s back.

“Halloween costume?” Leo asked, and Finn rolled his eyes and pulled him away.

They walked to the room transported from Pompeii, then deeper into the museum to suits of armor and lances. Leo found himself thinking of a school field trip. He’d been a junior in high school, whispers and stirrings about the NHL already surrounding him so much so that some of his teammates in his history class thought it was stupid for him to be excited about something as small as a field trip to a local museum. He had been though.

At least until Jack wouldn’t so much as look at him on the bus, never mind sit beside him.

Now, he felt Finn’s palm push under the hem of his shirt, brushing a thumb over the small of his back. They were in a darker part of the gallery, dim except for the low lights aimed at the weapons. Finn had pulled out his glasses to read the museum sign, but pushed them into his hair as he finished.

“Cool,” Finn said. “The hilts come off, so you can replace your blade. Or I guess change the hilt with your outfit? Do you think—”

Leo put a hand on his jaw, turning his head, and kissed him.

Finn hummed when Leo pulled away. “Fantastic. Kisses and weapons.”

“Thanks for sitting with me on buses,” Leo whispered. “And taking me to museums.”

Finn put those Jack-tinged pieces together quickly, and his eyes softened.

“Thanks for telling me you wanted me the first time I asked,” Finn said.

Leo’s eyebrows went up, and Finn smiled, wrapping his arm more fully around Leo’s waist.

“Like you didn’t know Logan wanted you,” Leo said.

“I did. I just didn’t know if he’d ever let himself take me.”

“Those words sure sound sweet coming out of your mouth.”

“Oh yeah?” Finn smiled. “Besides, I am pretty Lo-fluent.”

Low on his stomach, Leo covered Finn’s hand with his own. “Funny, he’s said the same thing about you.”

“Oh, I bet he has.” Finn nosed against Leo’s cheek, and stole a slow, leisurely kiss—far too much for a museum, even the quiet corner of one. “But still. You looked me in the eye. One-for-one.”

“And then I ran away from you?” Leo reminded him, kissing his jaw.

“But you let me come find you.”

“He wanted that, too. Believe me.”

Finn laughed. “You don’t have to defend him. You know I’d have kept him in my pocket if I could. Always.” Finn gave his hand a little tug on Leo’s waist and began to nudge him towards a free corner. “I’m taking about you. I’d keep you there, too.”

“Your pocket? Honey, I like it in your arms just fine.”

“Oh,” Finn said around a smile, then “hm” just before he kissed him again.

Leo didn’t know if he should be leaning against a wall here, didn’t know where a guard was to yell at him, and didn’t really care. At one point, he put his hands into Finn’s hair and had to catch the glasses he’d forgotten about. The small gasp he gave as his fingers fumbled for them let Finn right in, and suddenly any sort of footsteps or place was simply gone.

“Ready to go,” Finn guessed when Leo made a wanting sound, then smiled and kissed him again, quick. “Yeah, we are.”

~

Kasey was waiting for Alex on their floor outside their building’s elevator. Alex was pushing his hair back, still damp from his shower at the rink, and rubbing sleep out of his eyes when he saw him. He’d already begun tugging his tie from his neck. His muscles ached, and his shoulder had felt just a little off since that open-ice hit in the middle of the third, but when those doors opened and he saw Kasey leaning against the wall in the hallway, it all dimmed. The caught gaze between them felt as unfinished as their words.

“Good game,” Kasey said.

“Thanks,” Alex tugged his tie all the way off and let the elevator close behind him. “How did you know I was home?”

“I tracked your location.” Kasey slid his hands into his pockets. “Just like to know where you are. And what you’re doing.” His mouth pulled to the side. “And if you’re okay.”

Alex rolled his shoulder. He dropped his go-bag, walked forward, and kissed him. It maybe came out a little rough. Kasey’s hands found his hips. They slid up the arch of his lower back. Alex held onto his shoulders, turning into the softness of Kasey’s mouth until they had to breathe. He broke the kiss, catching his breath, then tried to lean back in. He was stopped by Kasey’s hand on his jaw. His thumb came to rest just over Alex’s bottom lip. Alex kept his eyes closed, waiting. Kasey’s thumb tapped twice. The silence was long, but it was like basking in sun.

“What, you couldn’t…” Kasey began softly. “You couldn’t talk to me about it?”

Alex was sure he could feel it each time Kasey’s brown eyes shifted over his face.

Kasey grasped Alex’s shoulders. “All the times we… Al, you took me ring shopping. I feel horrible, I feel so, so horrible—”

Alex couldn’t help it. He turned away. He rubbed a hand over his chest and beating heart.

“I need you to tell me things,” Kasey said. “I need you to.”

“I…” Alex’s voice hardly came out. He looked at the warped reflection of the two of them in the elevator doors. More silhouettes than anything. “I want you to be happy.”

“What does that mean?”

“Nothing. I don’t know.”

“Alex, what—” Kasey stepped forward, voice raising. “And you think you don’t make me happy?”

“It wasn’t about me!” Alex turned back towards him. He couldn’t keep the break out of his voice. “It was—”

“I want it to be! I can’t—I can’t come home and—it turns out that you think—” Kasey was shouting now. Alex had seen it happen once. Maybe twice. “It turns out you think you’re sometimes to me? Sometimes?”

“You were getting married!”

“You said you were okay with it! You’re still ours.”

“What the fuck was I supposed to say?” Alex could feel the burn in his throat. “What the fuck was going to happen if I said no?”

“So you decided to lie?”

“I decided to keep you for as—” Alex broke off. Aware they were in a hallway, he dropped his voice. “For as long as I could.”

Kasey flinched. He took a step backwards. He filled up the hallway with his broad shoulders and the way the light caught his hair. He filled up Alex’s head with everything from the way he tossed anything he was holding between his hands like a puck, to the sheepish way he kissed in the morning.

“What?” Kasey’s whisper was hoarse and desperate. “What?”

Alex just shook his head. He wanted to take the words back. Right then, if he could have, he would have reeled back every word he’d ever said in his life. “I…I don’t know. I’m so stupid, Kase, I don’t…I’m…”

Kasey made a frustrated noise, and then Alex was being crowded against the wall. Kasey put his hands on either side of his head so they were eye-level.

“What the hell are you talking about?” Kasey whispered. He nudged his nose against Alex’s cheek. “You—Hazard…”

Alex nodded. He’d always liked his nickname, but right then it just felt like the truth.

“No,” Kasey whispered. It had a scolding tinge to it. “You’re not. Not like that.” Kasey kissed his cheek. He let his mouth stay there, warm and soft. “You’re not.”

Alex realized he was was kissing tears.

“I’m a mess,” Alex said.

Kasey pressed a palm to Alex’s other cheek, thumbing away the trails. “You’re not a mess. You’re crying.”

That made Alex laugh, startled and, well, a little snotty. “What’s the difference?”

“The difference is you’re not a mess,” Kasey said. He kissed the corner of Alex’s mouth. “And you look fucking gorgeous.”

“You’re mad at me,” Alex said.

“A little, yeah.” Kasey leaned back to look at him. “And I love you so much I might lose it.”

Alex sniffed again. “God. God, I love you, too. You’re angry.”

“I can be both. And one part will fade. Guess which? Not the love part. That’s been here to stay since the first day I met you and you wouldn’t shut the hell up up and let me go to sleep.”

“I…” Alex took a few moments to twist an end of Kasey’s hair around his finger. “I don’t—I have this little brother, you may know him?”

Kasey’s eyebrows went up, amused. “Uh-huh. Think so.”

“He had this boy at college that he…” Alex sniffed, blinking away the wetness from his vision. “I don’t remember his name. Liam Trombone, or something.”

Kasey smiled, just a little. “You have the weirdest sense of humor.”

“Lionel Trustfund.”

“Finish the story that I already know.”

  “Okay.” Alex dropped his eyes, studying the curve of Kasey’s upper lip. “The little brother burned up a little, waiting for him. And there was nothing I could do to help him.”

“Okay,” Kasey’s expression had softened, listening.

“I didn’t know how to help him, but I knew how much he was hurting.” Alex put his hands on Kasey’s chest. “I think that little brother’s stronger than I am. I think he’s smarter than I am. I think he could survive it. Even if it didn’t work out.”

Kasey’s hands covered his.

“I don’t…think I could,” Alex whispered. “So I tried to stop it before it was too…”

“I get it,” Kasey said. “Don’t worry, I understand now.”

“Maybe I’m jealous,” Alex said. “Or I’m insecure, or something fucking stupid like that—”

“Maybe,” Kasey cut him off, “you’re as in love with us as we are with you. Maybe we’re fucking stupid or something like that. Maybe I was leaving hockey and I knew just one part of this new life that I was about to have, and that part is Natalie.” Kasey ducked until Alex looked at him. “Maybe I couldn’t believe I actually got you back and I didn’t…” Kasey pressed his lips together against tears. “You’re not just sometimes, Al. Of everything in my life, you’re the only thing that’s always been always. I don’t have this incredible family like you do, I don’t have…I’ve always had my teammates, and then I had Natalie, but first I had—first there was suddenly this really kind, fun…loud person—”

Alex let out a breath of a laugh and Kasey smiled, brows drawn together against the tears.

“Really beautiful person suddenly filling up my life,” Kasey finished, carding Alex’s hair back from his face. “First there was you.”

Alex nodded hard. “You’re that for me. You’re that for me, too.”

Suddenly, Natalie’s voice filtered down the hallway. “This hallway has very bad lighting for confessions of love.”

Alex closed his eyes and laughed when Kasey grinned. They turned to see her leaning out of their doorway. She wore Rangers blue.

“Hi, gorgeous,” Alex said, rubbing at his eyes. “Where is my bag?”

“I’ve got it,” Kasey said.

Kasey picked his things up and followed Alex to their door.

Natalie stood aside from the doorway, letting them in, and looked up at Alex. “I would have gone with Leroy Trampoline.”

“Laurence Trespass,” Kasey added from behind him.

For some reason, it was that that truly made Alex cry. Natalie was ready for it. She didn’t let Alex put a hand over his eyes. She caught it and kissed it. She smoothed a hand over Alex’s shoulder, as she kissed his cheek.

“And when were you going to tell us this hurts, too?”

“My shoulder hurts a little,” Alex said somewhat dutifully, and she smiled, shaking her head.

“O’Hara,” Kasey began to protest.

“Barely,” Alex said. He wrapped Natalie up around her waist and lifted her off her feet a little. “Okay, okay, I promise. I don’t know why I hide it, I really don’t. Natalia?”

“Alexander.”

“You look so beautiful when you look at wedding things,” Alex said softly. “Are you sure you…Are you sure you don’t…” Alex shook his head. He looked at Kasey pointedly, then shook his head down at himself. “I mean, I…Are you sure?”

“What can I say,” Natalie said, leaning up to kiss the corner of his mouth. “I want two diamonds. And two pairs of brown eyes. And two hearts. And you. You.” She kissed him more fully, hands in his hair, and said her next words against his mouth. “Let them call me greedy, see if I care.”

~

“No,” Leo pushed at Finn’s cheek, laughing. “Lick Logan all you want, don’t lick me.”

They were just a little tipsy after a full dinner and watching Logan play, tucked into a booth at Finn’s favorite place with whiskey and Leo’s mouth on on his neck. Finn was possibly feeling a little riled up from Logan’s intense expression on the TV, and Leo’s bright smile right beside him. He’d let himself be pulled home, pulled through their door, pulled into Leo’s arms, pulled against his body. Leo was salt and sweet. Finn had gotten him off once already—right here, Leo had said, pushing Finn to his knees in the entrance hall. Ever since Lo said about you two…He’d glanced over his shoulder at the mirror and laughed. Finn liked the way that small table rattled against the mirror. He and Logan bit back smiles whenever they locked eyes in that mirror now, coming in from a walk or dinner. He’d never walk through there the same way now. Not with Logan, not with Leo, not alone.

“Okay, okay, okay, come back.” Finn kissed Leo’s cheek, turned against the pillows. He was stretched out against the bed now, bare except for his boxers. “Come back.”

Leo pretended to keep his face turned away, smiling, but his hands were sliding down to Finn’s hips, pushing into his boxers and turning back to kiss him.

“Do I get to—” Finn couldn’t help the low sound in the back of his throat as Leo closed a hand around his cock. “—hear—to hear more of the list of the things you want?”

Leo’s palm was warm, his pulls slow and teasing. “You’re hearing it right now.”

“Oh,” Finn’s voice felt tight and coiled in his throat. “Uh-huh.”

Leo hooked an ankle over the back of Finn’s knee. His free hand scratched through Finn’s hair, angling his chin for another kiss. Finn pressed his hands into the pillows by Leo’s head, fingers fisting the material as Leo’s hand sped up. But then, Leo was using that ankle as leverage, and suddenly Finn found himself on his back.

“Don’t…” Leo whispered the word, even mouthed it. He let Finn slide his palms down his ribs. “Move.”

Then he was grinning and gone, leaving Finn staring up at the ceiling.

“I—wait, I, what?” Finn stuttered. “I—what?”

“Don’t move!” Leo shouted from the living room.

Finn heard rummaging, and Leo’s bare feet on the hardwood.

It was funny, being alone in this bedroom. Logan’s bedroom. He turned his head into the pillow and could smell his scent there. Logan’s bed had been a rare delicacy at one time. Being in it. Being warm in it, being cold in it. Being cramped in it. Waiting for him to come back but waking up alone in it.

He’d never been in Leo’s bed when they’d lived together before they were together. He’d sat on top of the covers. Or rumpled covers. Warm from Leo just waking up, Finn back from his run and showered, watching him go back and forth from the bathroom, getting ready. A little hard in his jeans at Leo’s smile and skin.

“Le?” Finn called. He looked down at himself, briefs tight, and ran his thumbs just above his waistband. He’d leaked a mess while sucking Leo off and he was tempted to kick away the darkened material. But he wanted Leo to do it. “Come back.”

“I’m coming!”

“Whatever you think you need, you don’t,” Finn called again.

“Oh-ho, yes, I do.” His voice was closer now. He came back to the doorway, still in his boxers. Finn’s heart gave a kick at the shape of him, trapped tight against his body. Nothing looked new. He wasn’t holding anything that Finn could see, but his hands were tucked behind his back. He was smiling, teasing almost, but his eyes dropped to Finn’s hips and it turned soft. He bit his bottom lip and tilted his head, then withdrew a hand and held something up—a Sharpie.

“You left me for a pen.”

Leo uncapped the pen with a flourish and pointed the nib at Finn’s body. “Art.”

“Oh my God,” Finn said.

“You are so turned on right now,” Leo said delightedly. He knelt on the bed, jostling them both, and swung a leg over Finn’s hips. They both let out a breath as Leo spent a few moments grinding down on him. Finn got a hand around the back of his neck and pushed his nose against Leo’s left dimple.

Leo smiled into it. “Kiss me.” He traced his tongue over Finn’s bottom lip, coaxing Finn into opening his mouth and kissing him properly. When Finn did, Leo groaned softly, pleased.

“Yeah…Like that,” Leo murmured, and Finn made his own pleased sound when Leo slumped against his chest to be kissed. Finn had just settled back against his pillows, tilting his head to scrape his teeth gently against Leo’s lower lip, his hands guiding Leo’s hips down in slow rolls against his own, when Leo gasped for air. Finn smiled and kissed him again, harder, sloppier, before Leo broke away.

“God, Finn.” Leo leaned back, hand rubbing at himself through his boxers, then Finn. “Okay, okay, where to write first?”

Finn laughed. “There are a whole lot of things we could be doing that don’t involve writing.”

Leo ignored him. He studied Finn’s torso, then spread a warm palm against his ribs and bent down. Finn tried not to jump when the cool point of the pen began tracing a slow line over his skin.

He tried to pick out the cursive letters, but couldn’t. Instead, he let his head rest back against the pillows. “That’s kind of nice.”

Leo capping the pen and admiring his work. He blew softly on the ink, though it had dried, and Finn shivered. When he looked, he saw that Leo had written his signature, and he laughed at the fact that he’d even included his number like he’d do for fans.

“Wow.” Finn reached forward to pull Leo down against him. “Do you have any idea how much I’d be worth on Ebay now?”

“Oh, shh,” Leo said, but let Finn steal the pen from him.

“Shh,” Finn parroted, and grasped Leo’s knees and flipped him onto his back. The pen was warm, so was the center of his chest when Finn kissed it. He sat back on his heels like Leo had. “What do you want, Sunshi—oh, I’m doing that.”

Finn chose the spot on Leo’s hip were Logan’s tattoo resided and drew a small sun. Circle, rays coming out. Over the bump of his ribs, he started the straight line of his signature. F. Then the loop of the O. Then, smaller, 17.

“What number would I be if I wasn’t 17?”

Leo snorted. “Ten.”

Finn smiled. “No way.”

“Hm…Maybe 22.”

Finn made an interested noise. He drew a small heart near Leo’s left nipple. “That’s a good one.”

“And me? And don’t just say another classic goalie number. Like, 30 or something.”

Finn capped the pen and swiped his thumb over the sun. “Maybe…Something with a seven in it. 72. Or a 4. I like 4 for you. 74. Or 3. Three of us, three on your jersey.”

Leo put his hands behind his head, smiling. “I ask for one number, of course you give me four.”

Finn shrugged. “What can I say? You’re versatile.” Finn put his hands over Leo’s wrists where they were resting above his blond, messy hair. “I like that about you.”

One moment Leo was grinning, and the next he was swinging his weight up to put Finn on his back again. “Oh?”

Finn ran his hands down the full length of Leo’s back and gripped the back of his thighs.

“I really, really want you,” Leo whispered. “Fuck, Finn, I loved today.”

“I know,” Finn whispered back. “Me too.” When he messed with the band of Leo’s briefs, Leo was helping him get them off before he could even ask, “yeah?”

Leo moaned into Finn’s kiss, and Finn’s cock jumped at the want and relief in it. Leo just pushed the elastic band below his balls and pressed against Finn’s body like he couldn’t wait any longer. Finn got a hand between them, giving him a tight hold to fuck into. He was already slick.

At the same moment, their front door slammed.

“Hello?” Logan shouted. Keys in a bowl. Bag dropping down to the floor. “I’m home.”

“Oh…” Leo panted. “Oh—”

“Good?” Finn settled a warm hand on his lower back. He didn’t care that he himself was aching. He wanted to make Leo come again the second Logan found them. “Come when you see him.”

Leo was too far gone for his laugh to be anything by half-breath. He was rocking into Finn’s fist more roughly now and Finn crossed an ankle over the back of Leo’s knee to give him more leverage.

“You wanna finish like this?” Finn swiped a soothing thumb over his back. “Hm, baby? Anything you want.”

“I need to.” Leo’s voice was shaky. “I’m so…”

“Yeah, you are.” He could hear Logan’s footsteps coming towards them and knew Leo could, too. Gently, Finn nudged his nose into Leo’s hot cheek until he turned his head towards the bedroom doorway. “Look.”

Leo’s breathing jumped. “I’m coming, I’m—”

Finn felt the first hot streak of Leo’s come on his chest, his neck, just as Logan appeared in the doorway. He was still in his suit, a light grey three-piece that Finn loved him in. His hair was dark, damp still, dripping on his collar. He had a new but shallow cut on his jaw. He stopped hard when he took in the sight in front of him.

“Hello, Lolo.” Finn’s voice was a little tight from the feeling of Leo pressing down on him. “What’s up?”

“Fuck,” Leo panted, eyes hooded.

Logan just stared. “I…”

Finn smiled and turned back to Leo. He carded his fingers through his hair and loosened his grip around his cock, bringing him down with gentle strokes. He was so hot in his palm, spent and softening. Finn felt like even the fabric around him could set him off.

“You,” Leo whispered, smiling as he noticed. “You’re so…”

“I’m good. You’re perfect,” Finn said. “Feel like I’ve come twice just watching you.”

Leo’s smile turned wide and sated. His kiss was slow. Out of Logan’s view, Leo slipped the Sharpie into his hand and Finn grinned, arching into Leo’s hips and the kisses he’d began placing on the underside of his jaw.

Logan just crossed his arms and leaned against the doorway. Slowly, he found the different marks and dark lines on their skin, and frowned. “What is…that?”

Finn brought the pen up to his mouth and took the cap off with his teeth. “C’mere, Ten.”

Logan took a small step back, one corner of his mouth lifting, unsure. “What the fuck?”

Leo leaned back from what Finn was sure was entirely different type of artwork now dotting his neck. “Finn took me to the museum.”

“Artists sign art,” Finn added.

He gave Leo’s shoulder a small push and settled him on his back again and sat up with his knees parted over Leo’s hips. Leo reached out a hand to cup Finn’s covered cock, and Finn let himself rock into it gently as he surveyed Leo’s lean, pale skin, already marked in a few places. He felt like he’d been on the edge for hours. Sometimes, he didn’t want it to end. “Ah. Here.”

He wrote slowly, scrawling his signature again across Leo’s inner arm. He watched the way Leo’s breathing hitched and how goosebumps spread out from the marker’s cold nib. Leo didn’t laugh like he had before. He just pressed up into Finn’s hold as Finn scooted backwards and hooked one of Leo’s strong, slender legs over his shoulder and considered the expanse of Leo’s inner thigh, right where it was softest and sprinkled with blond hair. Finn steadied him, fingers in the strong crease of his hip, and drew a heart.

“Huh.” Logan’s mouth was slightly open. “Isn’t that bad, like, for skin?”

“Not my skin,” Leo whispered. He had his hands above his head and watched Finn through dark, half-closed eyes. “Not in those hands.” He turned his head. “What are you still doing over there?”

“Waiting for someone to take this suit off of me.”

Leo gave Finn a small smack on the hip that Finn took as go. Finn slipped off the bed. In two strides, he was in front of Logan, gently tilting his neck to the side, and writing a small 17 just below his ear.

“Hi, demanding one,” Finn said, then capped the pen a put it between his teeth to hold while he got to work on Logan’s tie.

“Why do you keep putting that in your mouth?”

“To draw your attention to it,” Finn said around the pen.

“Please remember I have to go into a locker room.”

“Oh, come on. You know I gotta show Luke what’s mine.”

Logan tilted his head back and groaned. “Finn.”

“Just kidding.” Finn took the pen out from between his teeth, cupping the back of Logan’s head to pull him into a kiss as he slid his tie out from his collar.

“You’re not kidding,” Logan protested, looking at Leo. “Le’s not jealous of Luke. He’s a mature person.”

“I’m jealous of anyone who gets to spend that much time with you these days,” Leo said.

Logan’s eyes turned soft, still staring at Leo as Finn slipped his jacket from his shoulders. It fell uncaringly to the floor. Finn could have watched them look at each other forever. He could feel their locked eyes like a strand of heat beside him. He undid the top buttons of Logan’s shirt and pushed it off his shoulders just enough to get at the center of his chest.

Logan looked down when he felt the cold pen. “What—”

“This is so much better than writing on shoes.”

H-E-A-R-T. Finn wanted to circle the letters, carve himself a space, and fall in. He settled for a kiss to the skin, then lower, lower, until he was kneeling and Logan’s shirt was on the ground. There was a fresh bruise on his ribs and Finn gently traced its shape before writing Logan Island.

“You’re so weird,” Logan said faintly. He gave Finn’s hair a little tug, brushed a thumb over his bottom lip, then went to kneel on the bed and kiss Leo.

Finn grinned at his soft salut and the sound of a kiss. He pushed himself up and sat on the edge of the bed. While they were busy, he tugged Logan’s socks off and pushed his pant leg up enough to draw a couple stars on the back of his calf. He heard Logan laugh into the kiss. The ink looked different against Logan’s more tan skin. With Leo it was stark and beautiful. Logan made it like it had always been there.

“Good win by the way. We watched you from that corner place we love,” Leo said when Logan rolled on his back to kick off his pants. Leo turned on his side to touch the bruise. “Maybe you should take it easy.”

Logan grumbled something Finn didn’t catch, down to his underwear now.

Leo glanced at Finn, smile knowing. “One more time?”

Logan huffed. “I’ll have big Florida hotel beds to take it easy all by myself all I want.”

Leo reached out for the Sharpie and gave Finn a nod. He hooked a knee over Logan’s thigh and began drawing small stars over Logan’s collarbone.

“Big Florida beds, huh?” Leo asked.

Logan watched Leo’s face as he drew. “Yes.”

“All by yourself?” Finn repeated.

That got Logan to look at him. He still looked put-out by the thought, but there was hesitation there, too.

“Ouais,” he said.

Finn tilted his head. “Says who?”

Leo capped the pen and blew on his stars. They were in a pattern, Finn realized. A constellation.

Logan pushed himself up onto one elbow. He looked between them, mouth open. “Quoi—non. What?”

Finn moved forward to settle in between Logan’s legs, smoothing his hands up Logan’s thighs when he wrapped them around Finn’s waist. “I said, says who?”

“Merci.” The word nearly got lost in Logan’s relieved sigh. Then he was reaching for Finn, locking his fingers around his wrists. “Really? Really?”

“Of course we’re coming with you,” Leo said. “What do you take us for?”

Logan looked like someone had just taken some heavy weight off his shoulders. He turned his head to put Leo’s forehead against his own.

“Thank you,” he whispered. “Thank you…”

“Honey, there’s nothing ‘thank you’ about it,” Leo said. “If we can follow you, we will. You know that.”

“I—still. It’s not like I’ll have much free time,” Logan said. “And—And I thought you’d probably want to go home.”

Leo smiled into Logan’s kiss. “Take a look at Harzy. I think he feels pretty at home right where he is.”

“Oh yeah,” Finn said. He leaned down over their them, barely having to turn his head to place a kiss to the corner of Leo’s mouth, then Logan’s. “We’re going to get you some silver. We’re going to go watch our best friends get married. There’s nothing not ‘home’ about any of that.”

~

It almost felt strange, to watch hockey like this again. To worry about who was going to win and not be able to help a team get there. Sirius spared half a moment to glance at Remus as he set his tea down on the table. He said something soft and smiling as Lily handed Harry over to settle sleepily against his chest.

Sirius watched for a moment as a drone image of a Florida beach took up the TV screen. He stood behind the couch with his arms crossed, and as long as the blue water was on the screen, he could lower his hands to mess gently with the hair at Remus’ nape. Remus, rubbing Harry’s back, looked backwards and upside down at him.

“All right, Black, I’m not kidding, you standing there like that is not going to make the Rangers win.”

“I’m not—” The TNT logo flashed and suddenly Logan’s face filled the screen. He had his mouthguard half out of his mouth, and there was a neat line of stitches on his cheek from a re-opened cut. The camera panned to the ice where the Rangers were about to lose the last seconds of a power-play, and Sirius crossed his arms again, back into their original position. “I don’t want them to win.”

Lily scoffed. “We do for right now.”

“Gah,” James put a finger over her lips. “La-la-la.”

“I won’t say that out loud,” Sirius replied.

Around Harry’s sleeping back, Remus mocked Sirius’ position, crossing his arms. “You’re saying you don’t want Logan to win you-know-what?”

Sirius actually flinched. “I’m saying—I’m not saying anything that could influence anything. I’m standing here, watching a friend on television.”

“You’ve had your arms crossed like that since Logan scored in the first period.” Lily looked at the living room clock. “That’s about an hour and a half ago.”

“Oh my God.” Remus let out a loud ha, then put a hand over Harry’s head as if to say sorry. He held up his phone to Lily and James, who made similar sounds, then flipped it to show Sirius. Leo had sent a picture of Finn to the team group chat. Finn was sitting with his back straight in what looked like a hotel room, palm trees outside. He had his hands placed specifically on his knees, his eyes on an out of sight TV.

Leo had written, he hasn’t moved at all since Lo scored but he “isn’t superstitious.”

Sirius pointedly looked back to the television. Logan was on the ice now, gliding into Florida’s zone.

Sirius glared when he heard the sound of Remus’ camera click.

~

They were about to go into their second over time, and Logan had blood in his mouth as he walked down the tunnel to the visitor’s locker room. He checked his teeth, but it was just a cut lip.

“Fucking seventy-four,” Luke said from two steps behind him. “Got a fucking mouth on him.”

“Ouais.” Logan handed his gloves over to be dried and pulled his helmet off. He rubbed at the red mark the tightness had left and tried to think what Finn would be saying over his shoulder right then. He would be talking a mile-a-minute and pressed right up against his back. Logan could text him and Leo and read the words, but that wouldn’t feel the same.

He could imagine it in snatches. If we had gone around—Too early—So fucking gorgeous, Tremzy—I tried to but he cut me off, so next time—

That wasn’t the same, either.

He got a bag of ice, twisting it closed, before sitting down heavily in his stall and holding it against his mouth. It felt swollen already. The bleeding had stopped, at least.

From his stall, he heard his phone buzz.

Sixteen texts from Finn and Leo. Two from Remus.

One from Sirius.

The Sirius one, for some reason, sent his heart all funny. They talked. Of course they talked, but not much and never during games. Too many lines blurred like that, and it was bad enough that Logan still couldn’t look at Sirius without thinking of him as his captain. But there it was. Sirius Black. One new message.

Finn and Leo’s texts were a tangled string of admiration that ranged from sweet to dirty. Logan bit back a smile and vowed to take another look at those later.

Remus had sent him a screenshot from the Lion’s group chat. A photograph of Finn, sitting tensed on the couch. The beat of warmth that Logan got when he realized that intense look on his face was because he was watching him was another thing to be examined later. The second photo, sent by Remus, was of Sirius standing behind a couch with his arms crossed. He wore the same intense look on his face.

Sirius’ lone message was simple. Bring it back home.

Logan knew Sirius was talking about the game. Bring it back to New York, finish this round on home ice, and move on to the final round for the Cup. But the word bled and healed like the cut on Logan’s cheek and lip. Sirius shared more than one home with him. Home was speaking French. Home was Pascal. Home was letting themselves go, and letting themselves love. Logan had been sitting there, trying to imagine home around him. Home was waiting for him in a hotel room not even twenty minutes away. He’d be washed in blue eyes and sun later tonight, in pale skin and auburn hair. The lonely feeling was half-habit when it came to Logan—and Sirius. Sirius knew that better than anyone.

For a fraction of a second, Logan’s world didn’t feel so very far away.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

The Exchange

Warnings: allusions to parental abuse, non/dubcon, and other dark elements. Not all kinks or triggers are tagged. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

Summary: Your father surprises you for Christmas.

Character: Cole Turner

Day Twenty-Three of the December Daze Challenge.

Prompt - let me dust the snow off your coat/hat/shoulder 

Note: As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

“What the fuck are you doin’?” Your father’s snarl sends the turkey slipping back into the sink. You spin to face him, holding up your cold hands. 

“Daddy, just doin’ up the turkey,” you blink. “It’s thawed now--” 

“I don’t care about the fuckin’ turkey,” he retorts. “Should be gettin’ yourself ready.” 

You frown and look down at yourself. You wear one of his old shirts, the Ford tee with the hole near the hem and a loose cardigan Shelby from down the way gave you, over loose sweats that were once also his. Nothing you have it really your own, it’s only his scraps, what he doesn’t need anymore. 

“Ready for what?” 

“You questioning me, girl?” He growls. 

You gulp and shake your head. You lower your hand, keeping them away from your clothes as you’re all too aware of the raw poultry all over them. You stare at him. 

“Yes, sir, I'll get ready,” you step forward hesitantly, uncertain as you watch him.  

He huffs through his nose and curls his lip, “presents on your bed. Figure it out.” 

You nod as you come close to him, wary of a lunge as you thank him under your breath. He only shoulders past you and goes to the counter. You’re confused.

Your father doesn’t get you gifts. He doesn’t get anyone gifts. You spent weeks thrifting what you could to give to your aunt and uncles when they got here, altering it all to make it presentable, but he only ever reads his sci-fi books and makes demands. 

You go to the bathroom to wash your hands. You look at yourself in the mirror. Anxiety tenses in your cheeks. Every day roils with the same uneasiness. Every day for more than two decades. You should want to get away but complacence is easier. He hates you but for whatever reason he won’t let you go. 

You go to your room. There’s a bag on your bed. You don’t know why you expected something wrapped or a bow. Still, your surprised by the contents of the paper bag. 

A pink dress with long bloused sleeves and a short skirt. You lift it out and stare in disbelief. You lay it on the bed and take out the shoes with it; little white booties with fur. At the bottom, there’s a box with shiny colours streaked across it; makeup? 

Your father’s footsteps have you facing the door and he appears in his stained flannel, slurping his instant coffee. “Well?” 

“Thank you, daddy, it’s really nice--” 

“Get a move on,” he snaps his fingers at you. 

“Oh, uh, yes, sir,” you shrink down and turn to gather up the things. 

“Make sure you wash all of ya,” he sneers. “You smell like a dead bird.” 

You swallow down your embarrassment. It feels like a trick. Why would he get you such nice things but still be so mean? Where did he get the money? His Christmas bonus always goes to whatever car he’s clanking around on in the garage. 

You go to your dresser and fish out a bra and some clean underwear. Everything you have are handmedown. They are all forgotten, like you. It feels so strange to have anything brand new. 

You take it all to the bathroom and start the shower. You stick to the golden rule; no more than three minutes to get washed up. Don’t waste the damn water, your father’s voice haunts you. 

You dry off and dress. The dress is nice but a bit snug. It’s too short, isn’t it? You tug at it until you can breathe. 

You once more face your reflection. You are lost. You do your best to tame your hair then put on the dollar store cream.  

You open the box of cosmetics. You read each label and search for any instructions. There’s nothing.  

You uncap the liner and examine the tip. You pull your eyelid taut and meticulous draw a thin line over the edge. You let it go. It looks okay. Not tacky or anything. You do the other and do your best to even them out. 

Next the mascara. You fear scraping your eyes but coat your lashes without incident. It looks better now. You blink as you take in the effect. The blush... you’re not very sure. You blend a bit into your cheeks but don’t think it makes much difference. 

Finally, you gloss your lips with the stick of pink. You like the colour but the sheen feels unnatural and sticky. Your father clears his throat as he prowls outside. You sniff and pack everything up. That’s as good as it gets. 

You step out as he grumbles in the kitchen door frame. You glance over and he huffs. “Put the damn shoes on. Whatcha draggin’ your ass for?” 

You flit back to your room and grab the boots. You think of grabbing socks or something but you don’t have anything to go with the dress. Your legs will just be cold. 

You come back out on the heels, wobbling slightly. Your father storms at you from the front door, moving quicker than you’ve seen. He shoves your coat at you. You pout as you try to unravel his intent. 

“Daddy?” 

“Go wait outside. He'll be here soon, won’t he?” 

“He? Daddy?” 

“You’re so fucking mouthy, go.” 

He jams his thumb at the door and you flinch. You take the coat and pull it on. It doesn’t go with the dress or boots. What’s going on? 

“Are you coming?” 

“Fuck off,” he pushes you toward the door and you stumble into it. 

You put your chin down as you plant your feet and pull away from the door. You put the coat on before you untwist the lock. You are lost. 

He slams the door behind you before you can shut it yourself. You shiver as you step onto the porch and search the wintery country fields. There isn’t much snow, enough to dust the ground, but the air is crisp. Your legs are scalded by the early freeze. 

You stare off in the distance. Your heart pumps faster as a thought startles you. Did your daddy just kick you out? Why? On Christmas? 

You see the square headlights first. The pale blue truck winds down the hidden dirt road and steers towards the old homestead. You squeeze yourself as another chill sweeps over you as you watch the approach. Hooked to the back of the truck is a long trailer, the contents covered. 

You recognise the silver trim of the truck. You squint at Cole through the windshield as he pulls up, the exhaust clouding the frigid air. The door shrieks as he pushes it open and you chatter as you bring your hands to your raw cheeks. 

“Hey, you look frozen,” he says. “Merry Christmas.” 

“M-merry Christmas, sir,” you call back. You still don’t understand. 

“I’ll just unhook the load for your dad, then we can head out,” he grins as he keeps his hand on his open truck door. “Got the heat going, you wanna get in before you freeze your knees off?” 

You wince and turn to peek at the windows. Huh? You shrug and come down the steps. You’re so cold, you don’t care. You just want to stop shivering. 

Cole closes the driver’s door and leads you around to the passenger’s side. He pauses to dust snow off your shoulder as flakes swirl down lazily. His touch somehow makes you colder. He opens it and holds out his gloved hand to help you up. He’s always polite but you don’t see him very much. Your daddy did a few repairs on his truck and he would help with the garden in the summer. You were always inside, locked up. 

You let go of him, your hand thrumming from his warmth. He gently shuts the door and continues towards the rear. The truck jostles as he unhooks the trailer. You peek in the mirror and see the thick ends of the wooden planks poking out from under the tarp. It’s a lot of wood. Expensive, probably. 

None of this makes sense. Cole comes up to the driver side and gets in with a ‘brrrr’. You blow into your hands and he reaches to turn the vent up even higher. He smiles at you as you avoid looking at him. 

“Ready?” He asks. 

You hunch down and rub your hands together, “for what?” 

He’s quiet. He peers through the windshield at the house then back at you. You shrink under his gaze. 

“Did your dad... what did he tell you?” 

You heart thumps. Will you get in trouble if you don’t go along with whatever this is? “He didn’t... he just told me to wait for you.” 

“Ah,” he reaches once more to wipe away melted snow from your sleeve. “Well, er...” He stiffens in his seat. “I thought he’d... say something.” 

You just nod. Whatever you say or do will get back to your daddy somehow. He’ll be mad if you ruin whatever this is. 

“It’s a lot of wood. Your dad says he’s going to add onto the garage,” Cole speaks as he shifts gears and steers away from the trailer, circling back towards his tire tracks. “Not many folks got that kind of money and I don’t really need anything done on the truck.” 

Your lashes flutter in furious thought. It feels like this should be obvious but your mind isn’t clicking. 

“Did I say you look really nice?” He clears his throat. “Cold, but nice. I shoulda bought some stockings too.” 

You look down at the rosy skirt and shake your head. A piece slips into place. Of course it wasn’t your daddy who bought it all. 

“Oh, you—thank you, Cole,” you squeak as you smooth the short hem. 

“Well, I figured you’d want to look pretty. I mean, you always do, but... it’s Christmas, right?” 

He sounds nervous, just as much as you. You wring your hands and look around the white landscape. Your stomach is a storm. 

“It was nice of you to bring daddy all that lumber, sir,” you say. 

“Please, call me Cole,” he insists. He’s quiet for a moment as he steers, then sucks his teeth. “Or you could call me something nicer. Like... honey?” 

“Honey?” You eke out. “Why-- uh... oh?” 

You furrow your nose and rub between your brows. That dark feeling crawls up from your stomach as the doubt in your head trickles down to meet it. It’s not making sense but... 

“You still look cold,” he reaches over to rest his hand on your knee, “you can get warm...” He tickles along your skirt then bends his arm up and stretches it out to grab your shoulder. “Come here.” 

You blanch but make yourself slide over. You tremble as you do. He curls his arm over your shoulders, his other hand on the bottom of the steering wheel. 

“See, isn’t this nice?” 

Your eyes prick as that rotting sensation in your chest overwhelms that voice in your head. You sniffle and touch your nose. You squirm as the cold seeps away to unbearable heat. Your denial melts under the flames of dread. 

“Sir-- Cole,” you twiddle your fingers. “Where are we going?” 

He chuckles and slows, turning to plant a kiss on your hair, “you’re going to come meet mom and dad. They are very excited to have you for Christmas.” He squeezes you even tighter, “not as excited as I am though.” 

Your chest hollows out as if you’ve been hit directly in the heart. You can’t breathe as it sets in. It’s absurd but there’s no other explanation. Did your daddy really trade you for a cartload of wood? 

Well, he always did love his cars more than you. You hope it’s a nice garage, that it’s worth it. Well, it would be worth more than his useless daughter. 

[familiarscars]

Lost In Control | Bad Omens | CHAPTER 24

adult content | minors do NOT interact.

⋆ 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆. Bad Omens X ex-girlfriend and singer!Reader.

⋆ 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒. You and Noah had a difficult ending but you still need to support each other for the band.

⋆ 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆(𝐒). melancholy, ex-boyfriends, difficult relationships, alcohol abuse, swearing, drug addiction, violence.

It's okay to not agree with the characters' attitudes during the fic. It's good to remember that the story is fiction from the author's sick mind and of course they will make dubious decisions according to my fantasies. Nothing is done to be compared to reality.

NOAH

"It's important to stay well-hydrated, eat properly, and maintain a good sleep routine. It’s not like this feeling will disappear overnight, but a lifestyle more focused on your well-being might help…”

My attention was fixed on the hourglass on his desk, the sand sliding down into the lower compartment at a slow rhythm. If I said I was paying attention to anything, I’d be lying. Ever since I walked into this room, I’d been high on intravenous medication and completely oblivious to what was happening around me, slouched in a position in this chair that would surely give me a backache once I returned to my senses.

I didn’t know it was possible to feel even more apathetic.

“I can refer you to regular sessions with a professional—what do you think?” he pressed, trying to regain my attention again. “Your tests didn’t reveal anything I should worry about, but if these symptoms persist, it would be wise to seek a second opinion. It could help, considering your physical reactions are becoming increasingly severe.”

I let out a scoffing laugh without looking at him.

“Do you think I’m losing my mind?”

“I think your body is sending signals that it needs care. That’s common when patients are going through difficult times or even under pressure.” The deeper he delved into the topic, the more nausea churned in my stomach. I sighed as though trying to reclaim air in a near reflux. “Have you experienced anything like that? Feeling trapped in a state of excessive melancholy that seems to take longer to pass with each episode?”

Absolute silence.

“Do you think I’m planning to kill myself?” I asked with irony. “My contract doesn’t allow that.”

“I think it would be wise to take some time off to rest.”

I had a flight with the band in two hours, two festivals over the span of a week in different countries. Resting was only an option in my dreams—and even then, there was a risk I’d be working in them.

“Can I ask you something?” I finally shifted my attention from the hourglass to the man in a lab coat with graying hair behind the desk.

“Of course, Noah.”

“The girl who brought me here—she’s still in the hospital?” I asked carefully, biting down on my lower lip.

The doctor looked at me for a few seconds as if reading my microexpressions or whatever the hell I carried in my eyes. I felt a faint discomfort, but it wasn’t greater than the curiosity clawing at the inside of my skin.

“I can’t say for sure, Noah, but there’s a girl listed as your contact in your file. I’m just not sure if it’s the same person we’re talking about.”

I hated how my body reacted immediately, as though erasing the entire conversation about the studio and clinging solely to the fact that she might still be here—with me. Nothing else seemed to matter, none of the other things I was feeling, because somehow, she managed to give me the false sense that my heart was at peace again.

Like at the studio, when the touch of her hand silenced the chaos in my mind, even if it was just a fleeting truce, since everything came back threefold the moment she moved away.

I must have been losing my mind. I no longer had any awareness of my actions or control over them. I couldn’t filter my feelings, making them even more confusing each time I smothered them with some new, unrestrained emotion.

As I exited the consultation room, I saw nothing but other patients waiting to be seen. Gradually, I let my shoulders drop while I walked, scanning the reception area with slow steps when I didn’t see any sign of her around. What passed through my head wasn’t disappointment—certainly not.

A sudden jolt from physical contact made me turn sharply, my brow furrowing as I saw a girl greeting me with a hug I didn’t reciprocate, keeping my arms stiff at my sides. I blinked a few times before looking down and seeing the fiery red hair on top of her head.

“Scarlet?” I asked, confused.

“When I returned to the observation room, they told me you had woken up and gone to see the doctor. How are you feeling?” she asked sweetly, frowning as I moved her away from me by grabbing her arm.

“What are you doing here?”

“Are you disoriented from the meds? I received you at the hospital on behalf of the record label’s team and have been accompanying you ever since, silly!”

“But…”

Had I been mixing things up? As far as I remembered, it wasn’t Scarlet who had been with me when I arrived here or when the medication knocked me out. But was I coherent enough to argue? My head was beginning to throb again, and my thoughts were as tangled as the sequence of events.

I definitely didn’t remember this particular cut.

“How about lunch? There’s a restaurant nearby that—”

“I just want to go home.” I interrupted while craning my neck to look around.

“Alright, I’ll drive you!” she replied with unshakable enthusiasm, and I let out a deep sigh.

“Isn’t there anyone else who can do that?”

“Noah, you don’t have to be so hard on me, okay? I know you’d rather have someone else in my place, but there’s not much I can do if she didn’t want it that way!” Scarlet’s tone was almost offended as she shrugged. “Let me help you—I promise that’s all I want.”

Meeting her bright green eyes as she fluttered her long lashes, I just turned around and started walking toward the exit. Scarlet sighed in satisfaction behind me, following like a duckling trailing after its mother.

On the way to the car, I tried to pull as much as I could from my worn-out mind, demanding myself to recall the route from the studio and my time in the hospital, but it felt as though a gaping hole had formed in my memory.

“I have good news for you!” she said, tapping her fingertips together as she closed the driver’s door.

“I don’t like people beating around the bush. Be direct.”

“Well…” Scarlet cleared her throat awkwardly. “Bryan has to miss the band’s trips this week, and I’ll be replacing him as the photographer. Isn’t that amazing?”

I was still searching for the “good” part of the news.

“Since when do you need to take band photography jobs?” I asked, perplexed, shifting my gaze to her. “That makes no sense when you make triple the amount from a single modeling gig.”

“I haven’t had as many jobs lately. This opportunity came up, and since you guys already know me from photographing the band’s collection, I took it!”

“Does everyone know about this already?”

"I thought I only owed explanations to you."

"I'm not a solo artist, and changes need to go through everyone in the band first!" I tried to moderate my tone as I turned back to the dashboard.

"Well, my hiring was cleared by Gerard, and now you're being informed about it. I don’t think anyone else is left on my list." She concluded with conviction after adjusting the rearview mirror to see her own reflection.

The girl lowered her sunglasses and started the car, keeping a moderate speed and playing some generic pop music that scratched at my ears.

I was about to open the door and throw myself onto the road at any moment.

At home, I barely had time to sit and breathe before being bombarded with calls and messages about being late to the airport. Moving at the slow pace I was still processing things, I threw a few pieces of clothing into a backpack and called a taxi to meet up with the band as quickly as possible.

"Hey, man! How are you feeling?" Folio greeted me at the entrance with a light slap on my arm.

"I'm fine," I replied, forcing some enthusiasm into my voice as I followed him. "You seem excited to travel."

"And when am I not?" he said as if it were obvious, raising his hands in the air. "I thought we were all eager to get back on stage after some time."

"You're right..." I felt like I couldn’t say the same. "I am, too."

In the boarding line, I bit the inside of my lips as soon as her perfume arrived first in the air, infecting everything in the blink of an eye as if it wanted to suffocate me. From the corner of my eye, I saw her stop behind me, wearing sunglasses and focused on a piece of paper she was holding, her long black-painted nails adorned with rings she rarely took off.

"What are you doing here?" I heard her voice and turned to see she was speaking to Scarlet, who had taken a spot behind her.

"Didn't Noah tell you?" the red-haired girl replied with raised eyebrows. "I'll be accompanying the band as a photographer."

"No, Noah didn’t tell us..." She smiled slowly and turned to look straight at me. Every word she spoke to Scarlet didn’t require the slightest eye contact—she directed her harsh words while fixing me with a furious glare. "I didn’t know he was hiring just anyone to keep his girlfriend around."

"What are you talking about?" I asked, lowering my voice as if each word pierced my brain, my headache still relentless.

"Listen here, girl, you respect me because I am not just anyone!"

She laughed, covering her mouth with trembling fingers before recomposing herself and gliding her lipstick-coated lips together.

"Thank you so much for the info, sweetheart! Good luck keeping an eye on him backstage."

Like a furious storm, she delivered her acidic words while brushing past me, heading toward our friends up ahead.

"I find her so rude," Scarlet muttered with a dissatisfied grunt. "No wonder if she's high, acting so full of herself."

"Why don’t you just shut up?" I snapped, cutting her words short with a cold sideways glare. "If you found a way to insert yourself into the band through work, then do it. Pretend the rumors about my personality are true—don’t talk to me, don’t sit next to me, don’t ask me for anything, and definitely don’t meddle in my life. I sincerely hope I don’t have to hear your voice until the plane lands, or I’ll ship you off to an island in New Zealand."

"But Noah—"

Before Scarlet could say anything else, I turned my back on her and followed the rest of the team. Fortunately, I was so exhausted that the rest of the trip seemed to promise immediate sleep.

On the plane, however, my mood worsened even more when I realized I’d been assigned the worst seat possible: right behind Ruffilo and the others, who were laughing loudly and joking incessantly with her.

Ruffilo’s loud laugh cut through the air, and something inside me pulsed with growing irritation.

"Could you all keep it down?" I snapped, sharp enough to silence them. "I’m trying to sleep."

"Sorry, Noah..." Ruffilo apologized, pulling an exaggerated pout. "We were just trying to distract her."

I rolled my eyes. "Her fear of flying will only ease if you let her sit by the window. Acting like clowns won’t help. Now stop bothering me."

An awkward silence settled momentarily, soon replaced by careful movement in the aisle. She swapped seats, taking the one by the window. The light filtering through the clouds bathed her face with a softness that, against my will, held my attention for a few seconds longer than it should have.

Her expression was tense, her brow furrowed, almost in agony over something as she looked outside, her delicate fingers tapping quickly against the seat’s side. Her scent lingered in the air—subtle, but impossible to ignore.

I caught myself inhaling deeply, without realizing it, before quickly averting my gaze and leaning my head against the headrest, trying to ignore the silent chaos she caused in me.

The landing was turbulent, both literally and emotionally, as I still struggled to fall asleep. The uncomfortable silence during the remainder of the flight was replaced by the team’s bustle during disembarkation, everyone busy gathering their belongings. I, on the other hand, kept my distance from Scarlet, even when she was just a few steps behind me.

We arrived at the hotel, unfortunately crowded with other teams and bands participating in the festival. The marble lobby reflected the golden light of the chandelier, creating an environment that felt suffocating after such an exhausting day.

Ruffilo led the small line at the reception desk, collecting room keys and handing them out. Everything seemed to be going smoothly until Scarlet cleared her throat loudly, drawing everyone’s attention.

"And my room?" Scarlet asked, crossing her arms, visibly annoyed.

Ruffilo hesitated, glancing at the receptionist before turning back to her. "You… didn’t book a room?"

She rolled her eyes. "I thought someone on the team would do that for me."

My patience, already frayed, was about to snap. "And no one thought to tell you that you needed to handle it yourself?"

"Don’t start, Noah," she shot back, her cheeks tinged slightly pink but her tone sharp. "I can stay in your room."

The suggestion—or rather, demand—made my head turn in her direction so fast I felt tension in my neck. "Absolutely not," I replied, my voice firm as contained thunder.

Scarlet raised an eyebrow, defiant. "Oh, what's the problem? I'm not asking for much."

"It's not happening," I emphasized, gesturing toward the group. "Why don't you share a room with the only other woman here?"

The suggestion was logical but caused a pause in the room. Scarlet looked at me as if I had just gravely insulted her, while the girl chewing gum and inspecting her nails smirked faintly, almost imperceptibly.

"Great idea," she said with false cheerfulness, a lightness that contrasted with the tension in the air. "I don't mind sharing a room with you, Redhead."

Scarlet turned to her, clearly indignant. "You must be joking."

"She's not," I interrupted, more firmly than I intended. "Problem solved."

Scarlet huffed, shooting a final look of displeasure before grabbing her things. I watched her walk away, the sound of her footsteps echoing on the marble as she reluctantly departed.

"Did I mention how much I love your grouchy old-man spirit today?" Ruffilo commented under his breath, barely holding back a laugh. "It's rarely this entertaining."

"I just want to figure out what the hell that girl is doing," I muttered, cutting off the joke as I grabbed my key and headed for the elevator.

"Replacing Bryan, right?"

"That's what it seems…"

But I had a feeling Scarlet's presence was more than just coincidence.

After settling into my room, an uneasiness began to consume me. The hotel was too dull, and the day's tension lingered in my head like an endless echo. I decided to head out in search of something to eat—anything to get me out of that oppressive atmosphere.

I called a taxi, and as I waited at the entrance, the cold night air brought momentary relief. As soon as the car arrived, I opened the door and got in, giving the driver an address I vaguely remembered seeing in a travel magazine. Before the taxi could leave, the opposite door suddenly opened, and a familiar figure climbed in without hesitation.

"Of course," I muttered, already exasperated as she settled in beside me with a mischievous smile.

"How lucky for me," she said, feigning enthusiasm. "Sharing a taxi with the devil himself."

"Seriously? Can't you take another one?" I asked, already considering opening the door and getting out.

"I'm already here; there's no way I'm letting a ride pass by," she retorted, fixing her hair as if that would end the argument. “Besides, I’m looking for a place to eat. What a coincidence, huh? Hey, where's Scarlet?"

"Perfect," I muttered sarcastically, leaning back against the seat and looking out the window, trying to ignore her.

The ride was silent—on my part, at least. She seemed quite pleased to tease me with remarks about the city, the driver, and even how I always seemed grumpy.

When we finally arrived at the address, I got out quickly, eager to rid myself of her. But, unsurprisingly, she followed right behind me, the sound of her boots echoing on the sidewalk.

"Why are you getting out?" I asked, turning to face her.

"Because I decided to eat at the same place as you," she replied with a challenging smile.

I rolled my eyes and started walking, but soon noticed something strange. The address I had chosen… didn't seem right. There was no restaurant in sight, just old buildings and poorly lit streets.

"Are you sure this is the place?" she asked, glancing around with raised eyebrows.

"Of course I am," I lied, though the discomfort was evident in my voice.

"Oh, then where's the restaurant, genius?" She crossed her arms, tilting her head at me with a look of fake patience.

"Maybe it's around the corner," I replied, pointing randomly and starting to walk, even though I wasn’t certain.

"Or maybe you just have no idea what you're doing," she quipped, following me.

"You didn’t have to come," I shot back, spinning on my heel to face her.

"And you didn’t have to get us lost," she countered with a shrug.

The argument escalated quickly. Our voices echoed through the deserted streets as we argued about whose fault it was—mine, for choosing an address without checking, or hers, for insisting on tagging along.

"You think you know everything, don't you?" she exclaimed, shaking her head.

"And you think you have the right to meddle in everything," I retorted, pointing at her.

She opened her mouth to reply but was interrupted by a distant sound—something metallic, like a gate slamming shut. We both fell silent immediately, the atmosphere now much quieter and stranger than before.

"Great," she muttered, glancing around again. "Now we're lost on an empty street and probably about to get mugged."

"If you’d stop complaining for a second, maybe we could find the place," I replied, trying to ignore the growing unease inside me.

But deep down, I knew she was right. The night was only getting worse.

The sky began to shift slowly, the bluish tones giving way to a deep orange that soon turned into an oppressive darkness. What once looked like deserted streets now carried an unsettling aura. The buildings and sidewalks disappeared, replaced by empty lots and sparse trees. The silence was broken only by the sound of our footsteps, which seemed louder with every second.

"What’s the matter, Noah? Afraid of the dark?" she teased, wiggling her fingers, though her voice trembled slightly, betraying her growing discomfort.

"Stop being pathetic!" I snapped, forcing sarcasm to mask the anxiety creeping over me.

The real trouble came when my phone vibrated one last time before dying completely.

"Perfect," I muttered, holding the lifeless device in my hand.

She glanced at her own phone and made a face, letting out a dry laugh. "Mine’s almost dead too. We’re out of GPS, no taxi, and no idea where we are."

"Oh, so you’re just now realizing this was a terrible idea?"

"You brought me here!" she shot back, arms crossed like she owned the moral high ground.

The argument continued as we walked, but the energy was draining along with the daylight. The jokes and taunts gave way to irritated grumbles and, eventually, to an uncomfortable silence. The cold began to set in, making her rub her arms and mutter something about how much of a waste of time this all was.

That was when we spotted a structure in the distance, partially hidden by the trees.

“Is that a house?” she asked, her voice tinged with doubt.

“Sort of,” I replied, eyeing the weathered, timeworn structure. It was small, with cracked walls and windows boarded up with planks.

It looked like it had been abandoned for years, but at least it offered shelter.

“I can’t believe I’m going in there,” I said, taking a step back.

“Great. Stay out here and see how much you like the freezing wind,” she shot back before pushing open the slightly ajar door.

The inside was no more inviting than the outside. The wooden floor creaked with every step, and the smell of mildew and dust filled my lungs. There were only two rooms: one that seemed to be the main living area and another that might have been a bedroom. Unlike me, she was enthralled, poking around at everything from the walls to the furniture and even amusing herself by sniffing the abandoned food in the fridge.

I hated how she could turn any situation into a joke.

“Do you think it’s safe?” I asked, following her hesitantly.

“No idea. But it’s better than staying outside.”

I scoffed, glancing around with disdain.

“So, what now? Are we setting up camp here and waiting for sunrise?”

“Maybe. Did you bring a tent? Because there’s only one bed, and I’m not sleeping with you, Mr. I-Snore-All-Night.”

“Funny,” I said mockingly, throwing a dusty pillow at her. “I don’t snore anymore.”

The tension between us kept building, every word dripping with irritation and exhaustion. My heart was pounding harder—not just because of the situation, but because of her presence, so close yet so infuriating.

“I feel like you planned this just to get some alone time with me!” she accused, her eyes gleaming with anger. “At the very least, I expected a less exotic location.”

“Disappearing your body behind this house at sunrise is still an option.”

“I definitely deserve more than being dumped in the middle of nowhere!” she declared haughtily.

“I can’t believe I have to spend the night under the same roof as you! I’d have preferred being mugged outside.”

“Then go back out there, Superman!”

Our bickering echoed off the empty walls, the anger making the discomfort almost palpable. Yet, in the midst of our insults, a sound from outside cut through the tension.

A low rustling, like leaves being stepped on.

We both fell silent immediately, our eyes darting toward the open door. The air grew heavier, and for the first time since we left the hotel, I felt something close to genuine fear.

“Did you hear that?” she whispered, her voice finally stripped of sarcasm.

“Yes,” I replied, my gaze fixed on the darkness outside.

Something was out there.

And, for the first time that night, our argument ceased to matter.

⭑ @collisionofyourkissmakesitsohard ; @iluvmewwwww75 ; @anarchydomainglory ; @foliosgirl ; @lacy1986 ; @chey-h ; @supersquirrel1996 ; @zozaline​ ; @just-randomm-stuff

[aldisobey]

Fuel to Fire

AO3 Link - Fuel to Fire

A gift on this eve! Finally got it to a point where I don't mind sharing. Emmlich content, come get some Emmlich and Rook angst. It's got comfort and warmth and I've been with it too long just take it before I start hating it again. Tagging @emmg you asked for it! (oh yeah and the title is just the song I listened to the most, it's how I'm naming things because eugh naming things how). Technically part two in a series, check out Nascent Blight if you need more.

Word Count: ~3k

Relationship: Rook Thorne x Emmlich, M/M

Full story below because why not

Emmrich paced the room, green flickers of his skull mixing light with the soothing glow of the water’s reflection on the ground. Rook sprawled out on the divan, head back on the armrest, eyes closed, and rubbed at his temples. Peeked a moment at the towering necromancer gleaming soft in the muted room.

“Rook.” Emmrich’s stern tone made him squeeze his eyes shut. The lich ceased pacing and stood near the small table at the center. Hands folded behind him he faced the waters. “That was reckless.”

The Warden was still coated in lingering blight from the Wetlands. He’d meant to clean up and go celebrate the Eruption’s destruction on return to the Lighthouse, but it was all he could do to drag himself here. He could still feel the echo of it. Too close, too much.

He gripped his head, pressed hard as he dared to drive away the thrumming recollection of whispers. Thank whatever luck graced him it hadn’t…his hands dropped. One to the ground, the other his chest. Their pressures had provided no relief. It would fade, always had, should have stopped when they burned the thing, but something of it’s nature let that damnable echo persist. That or a head injury, he’d taken some hits.

He sighed. Slowly opened his eyes and turned his head to glance at Emmrich’s back facing him.

“Had to be done.” Equally stern in a quiet way, exhaustion clear.

“You might have left the matter to Davrin.” A resounding voice. The folded hands clenched, then released, flicked to the side as Emmrich turned round to fix Rook with his hollow stare, “Or Evka and Antoine, or any number of other Wardens in Lavendell.”

“Emmrich,” Rook responded more softly, slowly, but kept firm, “I had my reasons.”

“And?” The skull tilted, frustration snipping, “Were those reasons worth it?” Emmrich gestured towards Rook, everything said in that tone and movement. Today had not been easy for the rogue. Taash had to half carry him back.

“Yes.” Grumbling, he swung his legs off the divan, sat up properly to face Emmrich’s accusations. “They were.” He straightened his back and squared off his shoulders, suppressed the pulse built on his forehead with a heavy blink. “Look. I brought Taash because they can burn whatever comes their way. And I brought you because you’re undead.”

Emmrich twitched, almost imperceptibly, at that. Rook might’ve missed it had his attention on the lich been less than absolute, but the movement sent his stomach falling. He bit at his tongue and rushed on.

“We got the job done alright? Lavendell can thrive. Everyone safe.” He rushed the words. Kept them short. Folded his arms. He might’ve looked petulant, but the wear of the day was too loud. Holes in the sleeves, tears on the sides, slash on the leg, all red stained, all healed flesh below, but memories of wounds. Everywhere.

“Darling. What about you?” Emmrich’s voice shook, seeing more than the evident physical. Undead eyes exposed a roiling of lingering red pain whispers, swirling confusion, exhaustion like a leaded blanket.

“Hmm? I’m already blighted, it was no concern.” Rook shrugged, doing his best to appear at ease. Brush off the worry, confirm the wellness of the situation. They were here, they were whole, they…

“Enough.” A snarl of exasperation, Emmrich stepped closer, seeming ever taller as he approached, “Davrin would have joined us had it been no concern. You brought Taash.” There was finality in the words, a stillness as the simmering anger evened and burned with purpose, “I was there, Rook. Your Warden friends were quite clear on the danger that Eruption posed to you.”

Rook grimaced, rubbed his hands, felt over callus, cut, and bruise. It hurt. He added pressure, focused the pain there.

Emmrich was right of course. The lingering pounding in his head was testament to that. What if the Eruption had sparked something? It felt safer for Taash to be there with their fire. Why put more than one Warden at risk? How many was it if not him? If not Davrin? Thoughts roiling he shrank below that green gaze burrowing into him feet away. Rook realized then he’d gone slack jawed, unable to think of an acceptable excuse. But no. He had made the right call.

He snapped his mouth shut.

“Fine!” Rook growled and stood using the armrest with a stifled groan. Patience worn thin after all the drumming in his skull he put his hands to his hips when he reached his full height and glared up at Emmrich.

He didn’t shout, but matched the steaming frustration, “I knew it was dangerous for me. Alright? But I had to do it.” The words came out through grit teeth, biting back the desire to escalate.

Emmrich drew back. Not a step, but into himself. “Dearest...”

“No, don't dearest me.” It came out like a hiss, and Rook leaned the smallest degree forward, “The Grey Wardens need every last person after all this.” His hands flailed out, gesturing vaguely to the world at large, “After Weisshaupt…” A breath found him. The fury caught on his tongue. This shouldn’t be so hard.

He cleared his throat, kept strong, “My jobs done once we’ve killed those gods.” His hands returned to his temples for a moment to steady himself, applied pressure to calm the beat. The blood flushing to his face couldn’t be helping.

Rook gave his head a shake and looked askance, maker how did a skull appear sad, he pinched the bridge of his nose. Unable to face Emmrich in that hunched posture before him. Bent, mourning, pathetic…no, Rook swallowed. Not that. The necromancer didn’t stand alone. The lean was enclosing him, protective. He dared a glance forward.

The lich stood draping the Warden in shadow like some gilded ribbed vaulting. And Rook, an insignificant supplicant come, with soft flesh aching, stinking of blight. Before a cathedral.

“Davrin’s got a book in the works!” He sputtered before he forgot all of the pieces reinforcing his decision. “Antoine makes such things?” Because it had been the right decision, “Can you imagine things if left to Evka’s hands?” They would all flourish after he did his part.

“You think I’d risk a single one of them?” Voice a hushed whisper of desperation. He couldn’t bear it.

No. The gods died next. No one else.

Tomorrow. His mind kept at a furious pace. A last check on Lavendell. Then Treviso, the Crows had word. He could feel cold sweat on his neck, they might have a location. Almost there. Not much longer now, almost safe, and all at once his legs went weak. Rook sank, barely controlled, back down to the divan. He settled with elbows on his knees, hands holding his head, and stared down at the floor. Could feel welling in his eyes, blinked it away.

“Rook,” Emmrich’s voice was slow, the gentle echo of a creek; water over stones as it traveled through him, “I’m sorry.”

Sincerity. Rook could feel it. Feel his nerves still at the serene appeal, “You carry the weight of every decision. Don’t you?” Not a question, a declaration, and in hearing it, so firmly spoken, Rook quaked.

“You were exemplary today.” Finally. A shuddering breath, a tiny lift, that voice of praise, a warming balm.

“My love,” The words sank deep past the skin, something in the tone kneading them firmly within the chest, past bone and into heart where a soul might sit, “let me help you.” Rook sniffed, didn’t trust his voice, dipped a nod once. Emmrich extended his hand, gestured towards Rook’s head.

Movements small, close, Rook leaned in, but then gave start, bit his lip, froze, “..wait.” He still needed to scour, make sure every speck of blight was gone, that could take awhile for hair.

“That’s of no concern.” Emmrich smirked.

Rook looked up as that comforting palm settled soft on his head. Peered past the linen, memories flashing of that arched brow, those lidded eyes, and met a crowned skull, flickering flame. He’d heard it in the tone.

His eyes went wide, tight pain gripped his chest. That was the cost wasn’t it? But then, he felt his heart beat. There was that…the desire...ever since…

'Rook’s Necromancer. An excellent subject to test how long one could go back and forth between life and death.'

Rook blinked at the perfect, beautiful, loving undead skull staring back at him, the whisper of hope escaping from dreams and solidifying here and now.

“You’re safe.” Rook choked out the words.

Then collapsed. Gone so limp he would have fallen from couch to floor had Emmrich not anticipated the movement and dropped to his knees to catch him in his arms.

They dropped together a moment, Emmrich’s arms a cushioning guide. And once stable, once still, he lifted, held the trembling man close, and carefully settled down on the divan with him. The Warden, for his part, was all snot and tears, clinging to the lich’s robes. His arms wrapped tight around the ribcage as he pressed close as he could.

"Emmrich, it can't…” His voice and body shook, words closing off in the shudder of relief.

Emmrich cradled Rook as tight as he dared, a soft hush drifting from him as he brought calm in his firm embrace. There was no measured breathing to guide the man hiccupping into his cloak, so Emmrich purposefully rubbed Rook’s back in the rhythm of a breath, and with a few extra movements green sprites darted from his fingers. All at once sound was still and calm around Rook’s hearing, and then began the sigh of trees, wind through leaves, in measured cadence to help level the rogue’s racing heart.

Rook almost felt a cool breeze on his skin same as he heard it, and the glow of water and flame mixed like light through the leaves to his eyes. He sighed, then lifted his head, buried it beneath the lich’s chin, felt his final quivers fade as a hum traveled in waves through the bones embracing him, back and forth, kissing skin where it touched, a fleeting doting touch. The beginnings of a smile and easy breath came to him at last.

Emmrich’s voice sounded quiet around…in…where his head lay. The traveling hum returned deep and pleasant, warming the skin where it passed. “My love. To think…you worried over me, to such...” Disbelief mixed with adoration, Emmrich’s voice eased its way into Rook’s waiting ears, pure love. The lost words saying more than any uttered.

Rook was steady now, melting instead of shivering, he clung to that genuine smile dawning on his lips, he could have this at least. They couldn’t take this. Rook tilted his head up to whisper to the air where Emmrich’s throat might’ve been.

“I love you.”

He put his head back down as he felt both of Emmrich’s hands move up to massage his scalp. The room was incandescent with green, the necromancer’s palms the epicenter of the glow. Focused. He plied at the Warden’s head. His movements were rhythmic, the magic alive with a pulse and rippling at his direction.

Rook could feel the echos become sated, the answering ebb of the necrotic channeling a path of release, carrying the riptide tight and rebounding in his skull back out to sea. Ease and push, gentle waves of magic and fingers worked the movements with Fade and physical, gently towing that ache out from the Warden’s skull.

Rook yawned, almost a thrum while in Emmrich's care, “Of course I was worried.” And he stretched in small movements, “You immortal fool.” His voice was low, pining, enraptured by the fool he entrusted with his care. Emmrich didn’t reply, his voice occupied in the ending incantations. Otherwise they kept in silence, the soft green glow encasing Rook’s scalp continuing to pulse, dancing with the shimmering from the tank.

“Darling,” when Emmrich's voice finally graced Rook again it sent warmth flashing through him, “I’m safe.” A rolling delight, the aches and pains losing hold, Rook groaned, toes curled as every muscle seemed to tighten, and hold. Then release.

The magic dimmed. Rook breathed heavy, then slow, then measured, calm. Almost asleep.

Emmrich sighed, his voice an echo that resounded through the room. He took a long laborious moment to take off his crown, and with utmost care placed it on the table behind them. Then, barefaced as possible, spoke gentle, the deep echo private now, tumbling only to the Warden’s ears, “But, Sir Thorne.” He looked down at Rook, tilted the man’s face to look up from where it lay on his sternum, kept his tracing fingers there, touch yearning. “You are most unsafe.”

Rook felt his eyes go hot at the words, if only because Emmrich’s couldn’t, and he could hear the despondent tears held in the lich’s tone. He tried to look away, but that meant leaving that soft touch on his chin, he pressed down into the palm instead.

“I’m sorry.” he twisted his head deeper into the hand, whispered the mumbled words into Emmrich’s thumb. The thumb traced Rook’s lips a moment, but seemed distant, moving further away.

“Those are words, Rook.” Emmrich’s hand withdrew, Rook looked up, sensing the gravity in the next words had been stressed by absent touch. “Please. If only out of love for me. Take more thought and action towards your safety?”

Rook gave the barest of nods, mind rebelling against the gross hope of self preservation. He nestled back down and away from the skull’s sight. Emmrich’s voice grumbled in old exasperation, his hands moving to cradle the Warden’s skull and massage along his neck. “If you remain so determined to put your life at risk I’ll have no choice but to drag you to the deepest tombs of the Necropolis. Seal you there until you develop a modicum of sense.”

“That a promise?” Rook’s voice surprised them both, and had Emmrich been able to feel heat his hands might have burned from where they held Rook. So quick and fierce was the flush on the man, so immediate the reply, it came without thought, driven by something deeper.

He could feel the lich’s fingers dig hard into his skin. Maker he really did want...The skull was staring up and away from him now. But Rook could hear the words resound in his own chest, “Don’t tempt me.” A low rolling warning, like thunder from a storm still away. But Rook could sense the ache, felt his heart quicken at what some choice words might lead to, felt the barest tremor in the hands holding him, but then they were gone. The storm gave way to trickling laughter at the thought.

Emmrich moved to extricate himself from the divan, took extra care to settle Rook comfortably in place. Hummed away the lighthearted mirth as he stood free and took off his cloak, gently draped it over the fading Warden, “Seriously, dearest, you mustn't jest.”

Rook held tight to the lich’s cloak and burrowed into it, buried his face deep in the lapel as he muttered half asleep already, “Don’t tease, you started it”.

He yawned. Felt warm, eased his mind to think of falling quiet, but the shiver of dreams crept up at him. The Fade always awaited, didn't it. Rook bit at his cheek, blinked an eye open to peek out from beneath the cloak. Emmrich was still there, though his back was turned to him now, he had taken to quiet pacing again, fish in the tank following as he glittered in the pale light.

“Emmrich.” Rook whispered.

“Hmm?” Emmrich paused midstep, fish paused midswim.

Rook stifled a chuckle, overcome at that moment with overwhelming adoration. He could ask this, a beaming smile hidden beneath the cloak, eye twinkling from beneath the fabric he muttered, “You once comforted me by saying the lich lords were, ‘Unlikely to visit your slumber’.”

Rook mused, calling back to that first time, that first terror. Emmrich had been so excited to share, so animated when explaining, the first time Rook heard the word ‘Lich’. Ice had taken Rook’s veins then. Fresh terror, new fear, but what emotion did he know better? And what a blessing it could be? His blood ran cold. Something deep in his gut warned him, but he ignored it. Looked long at the lich before him, fish following Emmrich’s concerned sway, and let the prickling sensation thaw, there could be warmth here, “Is that…something…you could do?” He finally asked.

“Oh.” The lich seemed to stand taller, an edge of excitement to his tone. “I hadn’t the time to consider it.” He started towards Rook, came to kneel at his side, put a hand on the cloak where the man’s shoulder lay, head tilting in question, “Would that interest you?”

Rook poked more of his head out so that his lips could be read, voice a hush, “Maybe…if you can, just uh check in?” He swallowed, “That song, it's in dreams…it’s worse…” Emmrich’s hushing tones cut off Rook. One hand going so far as to pull the cloak back up to cover the Warden's mouth and tuck him in.

“My love, speak no further. Sleep. Nothing will dare trouble your dreams.”

“Thank you…you know you can troub…”

“Another time darling. Please. Rest.”

Eyes closed Rook could hear the smirk again, felt a heaviness settle in his limbs, swore he was already dreaming when he heard the warmth in the immortal’s voice holding him, was that a lullaby? And sleep took him.

[chaotic-orphan]

Intoxicating Fear (XXIX)

The difference between Abuse and Power

Read part one // Master-post // Continued from here

Sorry it took so long!!! But I made this chapter extra long to make up for it guys!!! I hope you enjoy💛

Merry Christmas and Happy New year!!! I hope you all have a great time and mind yourselves. Thank you all for your words of encouragement during the rough time and making me smile and laugh while I was stuck in the dreaded prison of writer's block, but we are back babyyyyyy.... enjoy!

*~*~*~*~*

Kit heard Ambrose walking behind him. He tried his best to ignore him, but it didn’t really work because Ambrose’s stupid socked feet padded close behind as Kit walked the length of the first floor, away from Nathan and Jude. Away from the stairs Jude threw him down. Away from the abomination of healing and power that Nathan possessed.

“Kit,” Ambrose said eventually. Kit continued walking. He went through the next door on his left which opened up into a nice cozy looking library or study, or something, and walked over to the soft, navy plush couch in the far corner. He dropped into it, deflating like a balloon or a marionette with its strings cut. That’s all he was really, wasn’t it? A puppet.

Black eyes appeared in front of him, pleading, dark brows falling over them like a pitiful, sad puppy. “Kit, listen to me, everything I said and did before… I—”

“Don’t want to hear it?” Kit suggested, his shoulders bunched up around his ears. He felt his eyes water as he sucked his bottom lip into his mouth to stop it from quivering like a child. He raised his blue, bloodshot eyes to meet Ambrose’s stupid fucking demonic black ones.

“I don’t—” Kit said, scoffed, shrugged and ran his hands through his hair until his fingers tightened on the strands and started tugging on them just to show the kind of storm that was roaring in his mind outwardly. Not that Ambrose had to see a physical representation of his desperation. His blue eyes burned and red flashed across them like the glint of moonlight off a blade. Ambrose shrunk away from his crouch. His eyes widened slightly. “I don’t want to fucking hear it! Any of it. Your apologies, your guilt, your fucking excuses!”

Ambrose sat back onto his heels, even his stupid chocolate curls bounced perfectly, and Kit scoffed exasperated, ran a hand down his face, and wiped furiously at his tears with his thumb and index finger.

“I don’t give a fuck if you feel some kind of fucked up bond to me or whatever, Oskar!” Ambrose flinched. Good, Kit thought bitterly. He wanted it to hurt. He wanted to fucking affect this bastard somehow. “I don’t care if you feel bad now, because trust me, we both know you didn’t give two shits when you thought I was just some random hero to terrorise!”

“Kit—” Kit lurched forward, getting his face close to Ambrose’s, his nose curled up in disgust.

“What happened to puppet, huh? What happened to a dog that only exists to obey? I would rather you looked at me like… like I was some fucking plaything for you to break and discard, instead of whatever fucking way you’re looking at me now. You’re—” Kit sucked in a breath, struggling not to hyperventilate. “You’re fucking sick, Rosey. You disgust me. And now I’m on house arrest from your crazy ex-boyfriend, who you seem to hate, but let’s face it, Rosey…”

Kit said. He licked his lips as if he had to prepare them for what he was about to say as he leaned in ever so slightly closer, lowering his voice to a whisper as he got close to Ambrose’s curls covered ear. “What kind of sane person would love you anyways?”

The door to the room swung open. Kit slunk back from Ambrose, his eyes dead and lifeless, expecting to be hurt for daring to insult Nathan’s precious toy but he didn’t care. It was worth it to see Ambrose flinch… to see him crestfallen for once.

But then why didn’t it feel good?

Why did he feel worse than before?!

Why has he become this cruel, hard thing? Was he always this way? Did Ambrose just hold up a mirror and reveal that to—

A flash of hands. Kit didn’t flinch, but his gaze snapped up to cold, furious silver eyes and eyes as cool as a lump of coal. “No,” Ambrose said, his voice soft.

“But—”

“No.” Kit’s eyes flickered back to Ambrose because that wasn’t sad, pathetic guilt-ridden Oskar speaking, that was Omen; commanding, controlled, even. A smirk slid its way onto Ambrose’s face, his black eyes turned even darker, glinting like light off a shard of onyx or jet, filled with humour and sardonic knowing and cruelty. A shiver ran down Kit’s spine as Ambrose used his leverage on Nathan’s hand to raise himself to his feet.

He didn’t break eye contact with Kit as he stood to his full height, which Kit only remembered was a good head taller than him, and then there were two sadistic giants looming over him. Kit fought the urge to shrink back and swallow. He wasn’t going to show them he was afraid. What would they do? Kill him? That would give him his first peaceful night’s sleep in weeks. Months?

“Oskar…” Omen tightened his fingers around Nathan’s wrist and brought his hand to his lips. Nathan stilled as Ambrose wrapped a second hand around Nathan’s long fingers, curling them as he lifted and pressed a kiss to Nathan’s knuckles.

“I don’t need you to fight my battles for me, darling,” Ambrose said, his voice roiling like smooth velvet. Black eyes slunk towards Kit’s. “Especially not with the likes of washed-up heroes before their prime.”

Nathan stepped closer to Ambrose, his back to Kit. “I could kill him for you. Make you a scarf out of his entrails.”

Omen chuckled. Kit’s blood ran cold at the sound. He forgot how silently terrifying Omen could be; how terrifying Ambrose could be.

“You’re sweet,” is all Ambrose replied. He leaned up on his toes to kiss Nathan. Soft, sweet, short, before he pulled away. “But no. He’s used up already. I thought he would be fun to play with, but you can see as well as I can…”

Kit swallowed audibly, his fingers tightened into fists on his thighs as he looked away from the statue staring him down, making him feel two inches tall. “He’s got nothing inside worth taking anymore. He’s given up. He’s not worth the effort.”

Kit stared furiously at the bookshelf to his left, eyes skimming colourful titles trying to ignore the stabbing pain of betrayal in his chest. Isn’t that what he wanted? For Ambrose to stop pretending? Isn’t that why he poked and prodded him until—

“Kit,” Kit’s eyes widened as he felt Omen’s ability ghost through his mind like brain freeze. He shot up off the couch, and grabbed Ambrose’s arm, tightened, pleading.

“Rosey, don’t, pl—”

Ambrose grabbed Kit’s cheeks in one hand and squeezed tightly until Kit’s lips were forced to form a small ring. Kit’s hand shot up and grabbed Ambrose’s wrist, about to beg and plead again. Weren’t they past this? Was this all his fault? Was Ambrose really—

“I think you need a nice, long nap, Kit, don’t you?”

“No!” Kit protested.

“Mmmm, your eyes are feeling so heavy though, aren’t they? And your limbs are exhausted, and you need a really good rest to recover and fight again when you wake don’t you?”

Kit let out a small whine in the back of his throat… because yes, he was feeling tired, and a blissful sleep sounded so fucking good right now. At least then he could turn off the blaring voice in his head screaming danger, danger, danger at him.

“What danger, Kit?” Ambrose asked, his voice so soft and so, so far… away, as if it was a distant melody floating through the air in the other side of the house. Kit swayed on his feet and fell into Ambrose’s open arms. What danger was right, what was he thinking about? His thoughts were liquifying quickly in his mind and sliding slowly away from consciousness. “There we go,” Ambrose cooed, putting his fingers through Kit’s hair. “That’s it, just relax. You want to sleep, don’t you, Kit?”

“Yeah,” Kit mumbled. He went boneless against the villain as Ambrose sat the two of them on the couch again. Ambrose sat down where Kit was before and dragged Kit down with him who was too tired to resist. Kit curled up on the couch as Ambrose gently put Kit’s head on his lap which was as comfortable as a luxurious pillow. Maybe shutting his eyes for a few minutes would be okay, wouldn’t it? He needed his strength after all and… he yawned as Ambrose brushed a hand through his wild, uncut hair.

“That’s right, just a few minutes sleep, and you’ll feel amazing when you wake up.” Ambrose said. Kit didn’t really hear him, but he hummed in reply as his eyes shuttered closed, blissfully unaware of the scorching silver eyes glaring down at him.

***

Ambrose continued to stroke Kit’s hair as the hero’s breath evened out. Ambrose felt his weight droop heavier against him, drifting deeper into sleep in a matter of moments. He could feel Nate’s eyes on him, but he didn’t bother to look up at him, keeping his eyes fixed on the boy’s sleeping head and soft breaths. It was easier to ignore the questions in Nathan’s head and eyes and just focus on the sleeping Hero on him.

God, if only Kit would stay this way forever.

Not that Ambrose would want that, but it would be easier. Why did he have to fight him on everything? Even things that were good for him! It was… exhausting. If this is what having children felt like, Ambrose was almost certain he didn’t want any of the vile things… especially not if Kit remained in his life after all this was over.

He was enough of a handful as it was.

“Why Oskar?” Nate asked, his voice suddenly, terribly vulnerable.

Ambrose didn’t look at him. “I don’t know, Nate. I guess… I told you already. I took too much from him already.”

“That’s a cop out. We both know it.”

Ambrose shrugged. “Think what you want.”

That was the wrong thing to say. Ambrose knew it the moment it left his lips in a tired, defeated sigh. He could feel Nathan’s demeanour shift from confused to defensive in a second, his stance tensing, the air changing around them, becoming thick in Ambrose’s throat.

“Well, if you won’t give me any straight answers, how about I wake him, and ask—” Ambrose’s head snapped up, black eyes catching silver in their void stare.

“You’ll do no such thing.”

Nathan scoffed and clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth. “You’re impossible when you’re protective. This is like the Catherine situation all over again.”

Ambrose stiffened. “Don’t talk about her.”

Nathan smirked. He crossed his long arms over his torso, silver eyes gleaming. “It’s true,” he said with a shrug of a shoulder. An attempt to be casual that was anything but. “You always liked to collect strays, Oskar, it’s like a passion project of yours.”

Nathan’s eyes went to Kit in Ambrose’s lap, his fingers wound through the boy’s hair. “Though,” he continued, his voice dipping as his eyes caught Ambrose’s again. “This one you and your father have to share.”

Ambrose’s nostrils flared. “You’re just being cruel for the sake of it now, Nate.”

“So, what if I am?”

“Well, what about you, then?”

Nathan blinked.

“You and all your posturing and grandstanding, how you can absorb so many people’s abilities— mine, Jude’s, my father’s, Kit’s…” Ambrose listed, shrewdness possessing his weighted gaze as he tilted his head at his ex. “How you pretend it doesn’t bother you to hold all that power inside and maintain it there.”

“It doesn’t bother me.”

It was Ambrose’s turn to scoff. The edge of his lips quipped up. “You say that, but I saw how weak you were after healing his wounds. You went pale after, dearest. If you think I wouldn’t notice that then you don’t know me at all.”

Nathan stared down his nose at Ambrose and the sleeping Hero. His eyes softened. “No… maybe I don’t anymore.”

Ambrose swallowed as Nate unfolded his arms. He walked a step closer and leaned down. Ambrose barely suppressed the flinch, but it didn’t matter because Nate could feel Ambrose’s stiffness when he pressed a kiss to his forehead. He smiled against the skin and pulled back.

“I’ll leave you to it.” He said, one hand still lingering on Ambrose’s cheek. He froze midway, and his touch turned bruising as he tilted Ambrose’s head to the side and forced him to look into his swirling, silver eyes. “Don’t do anything stupid, darling. You know how much I hate bruises on your pretty face.”

Ambrose stared as Nathan released him, watching as his psychotic ex walked away, grabbed the door and slammed it shut on the way out. Ambrose couldn’t suppress the flinch that time as he stared down at Kit. He didn’t stir. Still sound asleep. Unaware of Ambrose’s tremors of fear at Nathan’s farewell threat.

Oh, he knew how much Nathan hated bruises on his face alright… he knew all too well just how cruel he could truly be.

***

Six years ago…

Oskar and Max stumbled out of the University pub and down the streets back to their apartment in Old Town. God, what a night. What a glorious night, and how long had it been since Oskar could just let loose with Max like that? Get absolutely hammered. He laughed as he threw an arm around Max’s shoulder.

“I love you, Max.”

“That’s really gay,” Max replied, and the pair burst into snorting laughter. Oskar craned his neck down and pressed a wet kiss to Max’s hair as they walked towards Fagan’s lot. They didn’t notice the group of four guys approaching them until one of them shoulder checked Max.

“Woah!” Max said and Oskar turned, about to tell the dicks to watch it when one of them muttered something that chilled him to the core and froze him in place.

“Fucking fags.”

Max grabbed at Oskar’s arm, sensing the shift in his posture. “Oskar come on. They’re small minded—”

“Excuse me,” Oskar hissed. The men stopped and turned. Oskar shrugged Max’s hand off.

“Oskar, just leave it.” Max said.

“No, I won’t just leave it. What did these pricks mutter but not have any fucking balls to say to our faces, huh?”

Oskar went towards the tallest, broadest guy and shoved him back. “Huh? What the fuck did you say?”

“Oskar!”

“You better back off, lamppost and listen to your boyfriend or you’re gonna get hurt.” The tall— well, tallest of the group — broad man stank of beer and had a truly hideous beard. Both of which Oskar personally took offence to.

Oskar straightened to his full height, a good head and shoulders taller than this piece of shit and grinned sadistically down at him.

“You tell him Mitch.” One of the others said.

“Yeah,” another chimed in, “run back to your boyfriend, faggot.”

Oskar’s head snapped to the offender. He was the shortest of the group, blond – obviously he was fucking blond – with tiny pubic hairs tweezed onto his chin in the mock shadow of stubble. He was stick thin and looked like a fucking weasel with a sharp pointed nose and tiny squinting eyes.

“Number one,” Oskar said, holding a bony finger up. “Ew. I wouldn’t date this man if he was the last man on earth,” Oskar said.

Max blinked behind him. “Uh, ouch?!”

Oskar glanced back over his shoulder. “Hush. You know I love you.”

“Fucking queers, I swear to—”

Oskar turned back to glare at the men again. “Two, it’s fucking homophobic to use the words faggot and queer in a derogatory manner towards my friend and I, and I think you should fucking apologise. Right now.”

“Or what?” Mitch challenged stepping forward.

Oskar’s eyes darkened. “Or else. You only get one chance to do the decent thing.” He said, holding his index finger up, his dark eyes searched Mitch’s face, trying to convey how serious he was. “One.”

“Show this fucking princess what real men do.”

Oskar sighed, his head dipped, his fingers pinching the bridge of his nose. “I did warn you.”

Mitch went to throw a punch and Oskar stepped back. He caught Mitch’s arm and punched him in the face before shoving him back and kicking him away. Oskar brushed away the curls that fell into his eyes before throwing his arms up in defence of his face from another of the dick’s punches.

“For,” Max began, punctuating his sentence with punches, “fuck’s” punch and the guy went down, “sake, Oskar.”

Oskar grinned. “They’re little bitches, Max, what do—”

Oskar’s head whipped to the side suddenly. He didn’t see his attacker come upon him until he was already hit, fire raging in his cheekbone and someone was cursing as a fist drew back. Another blow came from below, knuckles cracking against his jaw. Oskar stumbled back. His head turned skyward as his bottom teeth snapped against his top and ricocheted through his skull.

He didn’t see the third blow come for his solar plexus. The fist landed and Oskar shot forward as he wheezed a startled sound. A hand caught his cheek and slammed a palm against his nose. Oskar cried out as blood gushed down his face, gasping as he stumbled back again, the world dizzy with tears as his eyes watered reflexively.

Then.

Heat in front of him.

Oranges and yellows licked against the air, standing between Oskar and the homophobes. Warm blood turned cold as it poured from Oskar’s nose and trickled down through his fingers and onto his clothes.

“Yeah, who’s the little bitch now?”

Max scoffed. “Fuck off, asshole.”

“Should’ve known you were freaks too,” one of them said. Oskar’s eyes narrowed, tears spilling over his eyelids as he straightened. He could feel his eyes go the same red as his blood and he put a hand on Max’s shoulder, stepping past him.

“Oskar,” Max said. Caution coloured his voice as Oskar stepped around the human fire ball. “Don’t.”

“Fuck it, why not?”

“Oskar! You can’t—”

“Mitch,” Oskar said. The words sounded as sweet as a melody. Irresistible, and why would you want to resist? He knew the moment it hit Mitch’s ears because he paused as the honeyed words swam into his ears. “Kiss the best looking of your friends.”

Mitch obeyed without question.

He chose the second strongest of the four, grabbed his cheeks and slammed his lips against them. The other two, including the little weasel looked a little annoyed more than angered by the fact that Mitch didn’t find them attractive.

Oskar tilted his head to the side and grinned horribly at them. “Aww, feeling left out, uglies? It’s okay. The two of you kiss too.”

“Itch… off…” the good-looking one said, trying to shove Mitch off of him.

“Oskar! Stop it!”

“Why should I?” Oskar demanded, his little finger twitching as rage consumed him. “Maybe I should make them fuck each other in the street like dogs. Maybe then they’ll learn some fucking manners.”

Heat singed the edges of Oskar’s ear, burning away the stray baby curls. Oskar gasped, jumping to the left and cupping his ear with his hand. He looked over his shoulder to see Max glaring up at him.

“What the fuck?” He hissed.

“What the fuck yourself! Tell them to stop! Tell them to forget!”

Oskar straightened. His pride getting the better of him. “Why should I?”

“You know right well why Mr Law major! You know how unethical this is?! I’m serious. Tell them to stop right now, or else.”

Oskar kept Max’s burning stare for a moment longer before the rage dissipated like smoke in the darkness. He swallowed the lump in his throat. “Fine,” he said, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he turned back to the group of dickheads.

He walked over to the group and told them, “okay loverboys. Enough.”

The group pulled away from each other disgusted. The good looking one, the one that had gotten the punches in on Oskar’s face wiped furiously at his mouth. “What the fuck, Mitchell? Why did you do that? What about Diane?”

Mitch stared at his hands, his face a putrid shade of red. “I- I… I don’t know why I did it… I-” He looked up then at Oskar who stood smugly, hands in his tailored trouser pockets, reeking of expensive cologne and tangible satisfaction. All a farce, a fake, a falsehood, the Oskar that Oskar created after his departure from his legacy role as a hero. “You…” Mitch said, raising a shaking hand. “It was you! You told me… and I- I couldn’t…”

Oskar tilted his head to the side, his smirk widening, exposing his teeth in a wolfish grin. “Couldn’t resist? Maybe you just really fancied him.”

A sharp slap to Oskar’s arm and he yelped as Max stepped up beside him, smog rising from his ears and Oskar felt his blood run cold. “Ow!”

“Tell them to forget. Now.”

“Forget?” The weasel one asked, looking just as terror struck as Mitch and the others. “Make us forget?!”

“You’re a monster!” The other one said.

Oskar bent low and said: “boo.”

The weasel actually flinched. Oskar would have laughed if Max wasn’t about to roast him over the grills of hell, so Oskar clapped his hands together. “Okay, idiots, listen up. You will forget you ever met me or Max tonight. You will forget our faces. You will forget you called us faggots. And…” Oskar glanced at Max sideways and grinned. “Whenever you think of calling someone queer or gay, or faggots, you will remember kissing your friends today. And you will also donate your life savings to a charity for LG–”

Oskar flinched when he felt a lick of heat against his face. “Okay. Not your life savings, but you will donate a small donation fee to any LGBT charity in the city and be general allies to the queer community from now on, capiche?”

The four men nodded dumbly. Oskar straightened with a clap. “Good. Wonderful. Later losers.”

Oskar walked off down Fagan’s lot whistling a happy tune. “Happy with yourself, are you?” Max asked behind him.

Oskar laughed. “Yup. Pretty damn satisfied.”

“That was fucked up, Oskar.” Oskar paused, his smile dimming. Max walked around to his front. “You know that was wrong.”

Oskar let out a huff of breath. “They were fucked up, Max! I’m sick of walking around like I don’t have this power! Something I can use to–”

“To ruin people’s lives?”

“You’re being dramatic.” Oskar said, waving away Max’s dramatics.

“No!” Max protested, gathering Oskar’s attention. “I’m not! Did you hear that guy? Mitch had a wife, or a girlfriend, what if he had kids?”

“Poor kids.” Oskar replied coldly.

Max grabbed him by the shirt and slammed him back against the wall. Oskar’s black eyes widened with surprise at Max’s force. “Don’t you see how fucked up that could be? Telling him to donate his life savings to a charity? What about his wife? His bills? His kids?”

“Maybe being a shitty person means you deserve to have your life fall apart!”

“Is that why yours did?” Max demanded, eyes ablaze. Oskar stiffened under Max’s knuckles. Max may as well have slapped him for the reaction his words caused. Max’s grip loosened. “Oskar…” he said softly.

“No,” Oskar replied. He ran a hand through his hair that had fallen over his eyes, casting them in shadow. God, he really needed a haircut. “No, you’re right. I… I was reckless and I was irresponsible and… you’re right. I’m sorry.”

A silence fell between them. After a minute, Max let go of Oskar’s shirt and let him stand up properly. A grin cracked Max’s handsome face then. “But… it was satisfying to see how horrified they were after kissing each other.”

Oskar grinned and let out a little laugh. “Right?” And just like that they were back to normal and walking down to their apartment block, laughing up the stairs and into the dingy apartment, Max struggling to open the door, having to kick it once, twice, three times, but it stayed stubbornly closed.

“Oh, for crying out loud,” Max cursed, and shouldered the door open. The door slammed in and Max stumbled and nearly hit the floor if it wasn’t for Oskar grabbing his arm at the last second, laughing as Max cursed.

“Fucking door!”

“About time you got home.”

The two boys straightened at the voice. Oskar helped to steady Max before he went looking for his boyfriend in the apartment. “Nate? What’re you doing here?” Oskar asked with a big smile on his face. When Nate turned his expression immediately darkened and he was in front of Oskar in a second, hands cupping his cheeks and tilting his head up.

“What the fuck happened to your face?”

Oskar waved him away and went into give Nate a kiss, he missed him he realised. It had only been a few days since they had seen each other, but still. Oskar was drunk and his boyfriend was here, and he was happy.

Nate’s strong hands stopped Oskar from kissing him and Oskar let out a small whine. “What’re you–”

“What. The fuck. Happened to your face?” Nathan asked again and Oskar shrunk under the tightness in his tone. His fingers dug uncomfortably into Oskar’s cheeks and Oskar grabbed Nathan’s wrists and tried to pull them off, but he didn’t budge.

“Nate… Nate,” Oskar said, gasping, eyes pained and pleading. “Nathan, you’re hurting me!”

“What happened to your face?”

“Get off me, Nathan!”

Max appeared between the two and Nathan released Oskar. Oskar took a heavy step back; betrayal pinched his features tight on his face. Oskar shrunk under Nathan’s glare, horribly aware that he had done something wrong and now Nathan was mad, and he hated when Nate got mad.

“Just some douchebags, Nate,” Max said, cutting through the thick tension in the room. “It’s fine. We gave as good as we got.”

“Whoever laid a hand on you…” Nathan said, his voice small, but holding back the ferocity of a storm on the sea. His eyes bright with a cold fury. “Whoever dare hurt you…” he said, his expression softening as he stepped forward and cupped Oskar’s face in his hand again. Oskar flinched when Nathan put his hands on him and wanted to curl up at the look of hurt that passed across his boyfriend’s face. “Your poor face…”

“I’ll live,” Oskar whispered and stepped out of Nathan’s hold.

Max looked between the two. He threw his hands up. “Yeah. I’m also fine, Nate, thanks for asking.”

“Oh shush,” Nathan purred, waving Max away. “You’re like a cockroach, you’ll never die.”

“You could still show some concern. It wouldn’t hurt.”

Oskar excused him as he walked down the hall to the bathroom, his hands shaking violently as he slammed the door shut and locked it. He put his back against the door and gasped when he saw himself in the mirror above the sink. Fuck… fuck… fuck…

Fuck, tears welled up in his black eyes and Oskar felt sick suddenly. A warm feeling climbed his stomach, and he lurched towards the toilet and threw up into the bowl. Not a second later a knock at the door and Oskar froze.

“Osk? Babe, you okay?” Oskar had to tighten his fingers on the toilet to stop his hands from shaking.

It’s fine, he told himself. It’s just a crash from the adrenaline of the fight. It’s fine. He’s fine.

“Oskar?” A rattle of the doorknob and Oskar flinched hard again.

Yeah… the fight, totally what he was afraid of…

The next day when Oskar was walking back to the University, he passed a bloody crime scene that made his skin prickle and crawl, and his blood run cold. “Do we have an ID of the bodies?”

“Good thing we had their IDs, or they’d all be John Doe’s.” One of the investigators said. “I don’t know what did this, but it looks too violent for an animal, too… vicious. Calculated.”

Oskar stopped walking. “Mitchell… Dawkins…” One of the lead detectives said and Oskar turned back, and half ran home and up the stairs to his apartment. He had to throw up again as he stumbled into his apartment, sick to his stomach as nausea climbed thick up his oesophagus. All he could think of was Nathan’s hands on his face, the fury in his eyes… the… oh god… no… there… Nathan couldn’t have done something like that… but somewhere, somewhere deep down, Oskar knew he was lying to himself and that thought made him hurl more than the crime.

***

Ambrose stared down at the sleeping Hero in his lap, his bony fingers gently running through his matted hair, combing out the knots of dirt and blood. “Don’t worry, Kit,” Ambrose whispered. “I won’t let him do that to you. I promise. We’ll get out of here. Together. I promise. Just give me time.”

*~*~*~*~*

Tag-list [lmk if you wanna be added/removed}: @beatenbruisedandbloody @404lunar1216 @whumpyworld @nameless-beanie @andithewhumper @annablogsposts @whumpasaurus101 @0eggdealer @rejectedbytheempty @sleepy-pearl @n3rv0usn0v4 @whumpatize-me-captain @sunshiline-writes @burningkittypoet @honeyed-euphrates @sacredwrath @theonewithallthefixations @blood-enthusiast t t @tippytappytyping @shinokoro @bedtimescenarios @whatwhump @acer-whumpstuff @fa1rie @jesterrinobutter @xxgalgurlxx @princess-bubble-blossom @steh-lar-uh-nuhs @dutifullykrispyland @memepsychowhowantsuperpower-blog @ehobep

[silencesscreams]

hiii, idk if ur still active but I love ur writing and I was wondering if u could maybe do a james smut with a Christmas theme! tyyy💓

Merry Christmas, I miss you

james potter x f!reader

summary: you and James have been broken up since Halloween. Until he calls you on Christmas Day after finding out that you both were spending the evening alone. (muggle+modern day au)

warnings: use of y/n, reader is shorter than James, swearing, smut (MDNI!), afab reader, nipple sucking, oral/fingering (f receiving), praise!!!, penetration, multiple orgasms(2), slight dom!james, reader has hair long enough to be stroked, kind of make-up sex tbh, unprotected + use of the pill, creampie, not proofread at all 😭

a/n: thank you so so much for requesting! I immediately thought of this song, hope you like it <3

You hated spending Christmas alone.

When your family was getting plane tickets two months ago, you said you’d spend Christmas with James, who also cancelled his plans with his family, just for him to break up with you two weeks later.

There was no one you could spend the end of year holidays with, all of your friends were with their families or together.

James absolutely hated the silence in his apartment.

Sirius and Remus were spending the holiday together at cabin they found online and Peter had gone home to his family.

James hated having brought this upon himself.

Were you with somebody else out there? Were you meeting their family? Were they in your apartment?

It was killing him.

What he hated most of all was breaking up with you during a stupid fight which he didn’t even remember the reason why it happened. He just remembers being drunk and stupid.

So he called Sirius, because that was what he usually did when things went to shit, and also because Sirius was close to you and he would probably know what James had been asking himself for the past hour.

The phone rang about six times until he finally picked up.

“What do you want?”

“What do you think y/n is doing right now?” He heard Sirius groan.

“Why do you care about what she’s doing?” James didn’t answer. “She’s alone at her place, don’t call her.”

“You think I should call her?” He decided to ignore any advice that went against whatever he wanted.

“God, he’s so fucking confusing.” he heard Remus say.

“Moony, do you think I should call her?”

“James, you’re going to do whatever you want, aren’t you?”

“Always, but that’s not the point.”

“Do what your heart says and leave us alone pleeeeaseee!” Sirius said and hung up.

James dialed your number on his phone, he memorized it so there was no real meaning to why he deleted it a while ago.

When you read the name on your phone’s screen once it started vibrating you thought you’d faint.

You wished that he had butt dialed you, or that maybe he called the wrong person. You knew you were wrong.

“James?” You said as you picked up and paused the TV in front of you.

“y/n. Hi, merry Christmas.” He sat up straight on the couch. “What are you doing?”

You couldn’t believe him.

“What?” You asked, even though you heard him clearly the first time.

“What are you doing tonight?”

So he was booty calling you on Christmas, was that it?

“I’m currently watching every single sitcom Christmas episode I can think of. You?”

“I’ve been staring at the ceiling for the past three hours. Are you by yourself?”

“Yes.” You replied, almost whispering. You couldn’t understand him.

“Me too. Can I come pick you up? We could maybe watch every single sitcom Christmas episode together. I have some food here.” He was already getting up and putting on his shoes outside of the apartment.

“Sure.”

You sighed after hanging up, what could go wrong? You’d go, you’d eat his food, you wouldn’t hook up with him and you’d be home by midnight. It was fine. Everything was under control.

Until you got into his car.

Until you felt his smell, the three in one shampoo that had the sweetest smell a three in one shampoo could ever have.

“Hey, you look great.” He said, looking at you as you put on the seatbelt.

“Thanks, you too.”

“Did you change your hair?” James asked, starting to drive.

“Kind of, yes.” You looked out the window and then back at him. “You look the same.”

He let out a small laugh. “I do.”

It was usually a 10 minute drive from your apartment to his, in which you awkwardly played with the hem of your skirt and made small talk.

“I have some frozen pizza at home, we could make popcorn too if you like, I bought one of those air popping machine things a few weeks ago. Actually, Sirius got that.” He said as he parked the car on the empty street in front of the apartment complex.

“I’d like that.”

Maybe you believed everything was still in control until you entered his apartment, the floor was cold and you left your shoes at the door. He locked it behind you.

“You remember the place don’t you?” You nodded. “There’s a few blankets and a sweater on the couch and you can turn on the TV if you want to. I’ll take the pizza out of the freezer and get the popcorn machine ready.”

You decided on starting with The Office’s season two Christmas episode, then you watch the other eight. Or you’d move to New Girl, then maybe Brooklyn 99, possibly Seinfeld.

“Bad news!” You heard James say from the kitchen. “Theres no corn to pop” he said, coming out and looking at you sitting on the couch.

“It’s alright, how about we watch this one and then I can help you out with the pizza?” You moved to the right side of the couch, inviting him to sit on your left.

You did realize you had no control over anything once he sat and instinctively wrapped his left arm around your shoulder. That might’ve also been when he realized he had no control.

“What are we watching?” He asked as you covered your legs with the blanket on the couch, he pulled some of it to himself and shared with you, your knees touching under it.

“I thought we could start by the office, we obviously won’t watch all of them, so we can move to New Girl afterwards, then maybe we could do Brooklyn 99 or Seinfeld because I know you like those two.” You looked at him and he hummed.

“That’s a good plan.” You smiled at him and started the episode.

When Micheal started talking about the Yankee Swap, James took his left arm from off your shoulder and put it under the covers to scratch his calf. You missed the feeling of him over your shoulders, until he rested his hand on your upper knee.

You felt your entire body go hot until the end of the episode, when he took the blanket from off you both and supported himself on your thigh to get up from the couch, ‘accidentally’ giving it a light squeeze. You thought you were about to go insane and paused the TV, maybe it really was a Christmas booty call.

“I only have pepperoni, if you don’t mind.”

“I don’t.”

“Can you put it in the oven? I’ll get us something to drink.”

“Sure.” He brushed his hand against your waist as he moved behind you to open the fridge.

“There’s Diet Coke, wine and orange juice.” He looked back at you.

“Wine.” You answered, watching him take the bottle out along with a can of Coke.

“Aren’t you going to drink with me?” You grabbed two glasses from the cupboard and moved next to him.

“I have to drive you home.” He smiled at you.

“Maybe you shouldn’t.” You smiled back at him.

“I can’t let you walk or uber home.” He put your hair behind your ear.

“I could crash here, if there’s space for me.” You almost whispered, looking at him doe eyed.

“There’s always space for you in my bed.” He stated, his voice low as he poured wine into both of the glasses.

He watched you take a sip and realized you were holding back a laugh.

“What is it?” He smiled.

“This sucks.” You giggled softly. He took a sip from his glass and made a face.

“Oh my god,” he laughed “you have to blame Remus though, I don’t think I bought wine more than once in my entire life.” You smiled, remembering the bottle he brought to your house on your third date. He moved closer to you, resting his hands on your waist.

“I’m sorry about the wine.” He whispered and you felt his breathing against your face, you hummed and looked up at him, moving your hands to the back of his neck, gently stroking his hair.

“Fuck.” He whispered, looking into your eyes. He slowly leaned in, you could feel your heartbeat as he got closer to you. You felt his lips brush against yours and then his phone’s alarm went off, scaring the both of you.

“The damn pizza” he muttered, turning off the oven but not taking the food out. You leaned against the counter and looked at James, who put his hands on your waist again, asking you “Where were we?”, making you laugh for the first time in a while.

You threw your hands over his neck as he hugged you so tightly that you thought maybe you both could merge into one.

“I missed you.” You whispered into his ear.

“Yeah?” He teased you and you hummed. “I missed you so much, love.” He started kissing your neck, holding you tightly by your lower waist.

“I’m so sorry. For everything.” He pulled away, looking into your eyes. “Let me make it up to you, please.” You nodded.

He brought his lips to yours and kissed you quickly.

“Use your words.” He muttered against your mouth and your breath hitched.

“Yes, please.” You replied and he brought his lips back against yours, this time you parted your mouth and he let his tongue slip into it. His lips moved hungrily against yours, the hands on your waist quickly moving to cup your ass firmly. Before you knew it, you were moving against him, glad you’d chosen to wear a skirt as breathy moans slipped from your lips against his.

All of a sudden James pulled his lips away from yours,

“Go to my room, I’ll be there in a second.” He said, pointing to the corridor.

You left the door open and sat on his bed, waiting for him. Everything was the same, except for the photograph of the both of you he had framed and left on his desk, which was now nowhere to be seen. He came into the room with something behind his back.

“I got this for you in November, in case we saw each other today. I know it’s not much but it reminded me of you.” He handed you a black corduroy box, which had a gold necklace with a small heart pendant.

“Oh James, this is so pretty.” You looked at him smiling and closing the box and putting it on his nightstand “I’ll put it on later, thank you so much.”

“Let me make everything up to you, I truly am sorry.” He said, taking off his glasses and sitting in front of you on the bed. You put your hands behind his neck and pulled him in, kissing him gently as he moved closer to you, his knee between your legs.

You laid down and his mouth started to make its way to your neck, giving it soft kisses then gently biting and sucking, making sure to leave a few marks. Meanwhile, his hands trailed their way to your breasts, going under your already loose bra and playing with your nipples. He quickly helped you take off your shirt, also removing his own.

James quickly kissed your mouth and started to trail small kisses from it to your right nipple, which he brought to his mouth and sucked on, nipping at it with his front teeth every once in a while, meanwhile his left hand stimulated your other nipple.

Your hands moved to his hair, stroking it and tugging on it every once in a while, leading to groans that would send vibrations to your breasts.

Suddenly, he pressed his knee against your damp underwear as you desperately tried to get more friction from it, until he held down your hips.

“Let me help you, baby.” he hummed against your chest. “I’m going to take care of you, don’t worry.”

He helped you take off your skirt as you raised your hips, tossing it next to the bed and kissing your tummy, making his way down to your underwear, lowering it and kissing the skin right above your slit, almost where you needed him the most. He started to kiss your inner thighs, going up to your clothed core, pressing another kiss right on top of your covered clit, making you moan as he took off your panties, carefully placing them on top of your skirt on the floor.

“You’re so beautiful.” He whispered, his breath fanning against your pussy.

He started slowly at first, licking from your entrance to your clit, sucking it in the most careful way he could. Until you couldn’t hold back your moaning and you remembered how James Potter gave head like a starved man.

He held your thighs open as he sucked on your sensitive bud and fucked two fingers into you, making your back arch and causing you release the most incoherent sentences from your mouth, a mix of swearing, the word god and his name, but really, in that moment, the later two were probably the same to you.

Your hands tugged onto his hair as you reached your high, he looked up at you and kept stimulating your clit with his thumb, inserting a third finger into your hole.

“Cum for me, honey.” He said, sensing you were close to your high and going back to sucking your bud.

Your eyes rolled back in pleasure as you moaned out his name, squeezing his head in between your thighs as he carried you through your orgasm.

Once you were finished, James moved up to kiss you. His mouth moving hungrily against yours.

“I want you.” you said as you pulled away, looking into his eyes.

“You already have me, sweetheart.” He smiled, getting up to get something to clean you up with. You pulled him back by the wrist.

“No, I want you in me. Please. ‘Need more.” You said lowly, giving him a quick peck.

“You sure?” You knew he wanted it too, he just wanted to make you feel good and forget about himself for the rest of the night.

“Yes, please James.” You replied, pulling him by the wrist again once he went to reach for a condom in the nightstand drawer. “I want to feel you. I’m on the pill, please.”

He smiled, taking off his sweatpants and going on top of you, his knees pressed against the mattress next to your thighs as he kissed you, tilting your head to deepen it.

He started kissing your neck, giving soft pecks on the marks he had left behind earlier, while taking his length out of his underwear and lining himself up against your entrance, teasing you with his tip as you practically begged him to get inside of you.

“Patience, baby.” He muttered, slowly starting to thrust into your needy hole whilst pulling your right leg up and bending it, almost making your leg shin touch your thigh as he tried to go as deep as possible.

You couldn’t help but moan out his name once he started thrusting and kept hitting the most perfect spot he could whilst stimulating your bean with his thumb. You clenched around his cock as he started to thrust rapidly into you.

“That’s it baby, you’re doing so good.” He’d whisper in between grunts in your ear while you scratched his back in pleasure. “So- mhm so good for me, baby.” He said, his mouth clashing against yours, his tongue entering your mouth as you opened it. You clenched your pussy around him and you both can’t help but moan into each other’s mouths, his thrusts getting faster and his grunts and moans only louder, showing you how close he also is.

You felt your second orgasm building up as he pinched your clit and you squealed onto his tongue, your teeth clashing, causing him to pull away and smile against your mouth, his teeth against your lips.

“Are you close, princess?” He whispered and you replied with a nod, your nose against his cheek. He thrusted quickly and made circular motions on your clit at the same pace. “Hm, cum for me baby, cum on my cock.” He commanded as you reached your second high, pulling him in by the back of his neck to kiss you again. The kiss was sloppy as he shot his load into you and you clenched around him, his thrusts faltering.

He collapsed right next to you, grabbing his glasses on the bedside table to look at you properly.

“You’re so beautiful.” He praised you, smiling as he stroked your hair. “Thank you for picking up. Thank you for being here. For everything.” He whispered.

“Thank you for calling.” You smiled.

“The pizza’s probably cold.” He muttered, looking at his bedroom door.

“I don’t care.” You gave him a peck. “Merry Christmas, James.”

“Merry Christmas, love.”

[guilty-pleasures21]

Christmas special!

In reference to your ask about Christmas w/Jason Todd:

I don't know if you've ever seen National Lampoon's Christmas vacation, but if you have that scene where the dad takes his wife and kids out in a forest to pick out a Christmas tree. By the end, the kids and wife are freezing, and the dad got a Christmas tree that's way, way, wayyy too big- it doesn't even fit in their house. Instead of going out being Jason's idea, I think it being the reader's idea, the idea growing onto Jason, and by the time they find the tree he's really excited cause he just wants to give reader the best Christmas ever, with the best Christmas tree. (I'm an avid beliver that Jason would hate fake trees, but he'd also hate when the needles fall off. he hates both options, ngl). Anyways, kinda take that idea, add whatever you want to it- be creative! if you like the idea ofc. (This is my first time requesting something. I'm so sorry if I'm doing it wrong) Anyways, thank you!! 

If you dunno what I'm talking about, look up "National Lampoon's Christmas Vacation tree scene" or sum like that and the full clip of it should be around 4ish minutes. - Anonymous

This was the request I received and oh my gosh, I thought you were just SO CUTE!!! There is no 'wrong' way of requesting anything, babe and I am so honoured to be your first requestee and also SO EXTREMELY SORRY that I messed it up for you!!! 😭

Part 1

Part 2

Warnings: none.

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

     “Jason!” Tim screeched. “It’s been two hours! Just pick a goddamn tree so we can go home!” He hugged his coat tighter around himself, trying to stop himself from shivering in the freezing winter air, but Jason didn’t seem to care about his pain.

     “The one we passed five minutes ago looked good,” Dick suggested, trying to maintain his indomitable human spirit that he was only now realising might not be so indomitable after all - of course Jason would be the only person capable of finally breaking his iron will.

     Jason snorted at Dick’s suggestion like he was some sort of idiot. 

     “I’m not looking for a ‘good’ tree, I’m looking for a great one,” he replied, spinning around to fix Dick with a look of disgusted disappointment. “Did you not see the bald patch in the middle left section of the trunk?! It’s gonna topple over as soon as we start decorating it!” He swiveled back around before Dick could reply and Dick let out a soft groan as he continued trudging after Jason up the already snow-covered hill.

     “Argh! I’m not staying out here for one second longer!” Tim decided, throwing his hands up in exasperation. “I could have been at home drinking hot chocolate and eating deliciously warm gingerbread cookies, but here you are, dragging me out in the middle of a f*cking snowstorm to find some goddamn ‘perfect tree’ that probably doesn’t even exist!”

     Jason rolled his eyes and tuned out Tim’s ranting as he kept his eye on the trees they passed. Finally, he stopped and held a hand out to the others.

     “Stop! Wait.” He pointed at the tree just to his left and his lips stretched into a knowing smile as he considered it with awe. “That one.”

     Tim’s and Dick’s eyes widened as they craned their heads back to take in the full height of the tree. It was majestic, sure - maybe even perfect in every way, if they’d been somehow tortured into having to admit it - but it was way too big for the three of them to carry it back to Jason’s car by the road.

     “It’s f*cking huge, Jay!” Tim pointed out, his jaw dropping open in horror. 

     “He’s right,” Dick agreed with a grimace. “There’s no way we’re carrying that back to the car, baby bird.”

     Jason pursed his lips, trying to think up a solution to their problem. “I need to make a phone call.”

     Roy jumped down from the back of his truck once they’d finished loading the tree onto it. He clapped his hands together, brushing the loose needles away, then flashed the boys a thumbs up. “Looks like we’re good to go. I’ll meet you guys back at the manor.”

     “Thanks, Roy.” Jason stepped forward and exchanged some sort of elaborate handshake with his friend before Roy hopped back into his driver’s seat and began turning the truck bacl around.

     “What. The actual. Hell.” Tim followed Roy’s truck with his gaze as he started driving downhill to the road, then he raced after Dick and Jason when he realised that they’d already started back to the car without him. “Where the hell did Roy get a truck like that?! Does he even have a license for it?!”

     Jason shoved his hands into his pockets and kept his eyes fixed straight ahead as he responded. “Do you have a license for your car?”

     “Uh, yeah!” Tim replied. “I did my driver’s ed and everything! Didn’t you?” He regarded Jason with suspicion as he waited for his answer, suddenly extremely nervous to find out what it would be.

     Jason slid his gaze over to Tim, his eyes slightly wide in a way that made Tim’s heart freeze in his chest. 

     “Wait.” Tim stopped to digest Jason’s silent revelation. “Please don’t tell me you don’t have a driver’s license. No way would X let you drive her around without a license!”

     “I have a driver’s license,” Jason affirmed, shrugging his shoulders noncommittally. Tim jogged forward to catch up to him again. 

     “And it’s under your name, right?” he pressed. “Like, you did a test and everything?”

     “Hmm …” Jason hummed as he took out his keys and unlocked his car. He got into the driver’s seat and Dick climbed into the passenger’s seat beside him, not even blinking an eye at his lack of response to Tim’s question. Tim waited outside the car, shooting them both disbelieving looks and Jason sighed as he tapped his steering wheel impatiently. “You know, you could walk back if you want. Doesn’t make a difference to me.”

     “Argh!” Tim groaned, reluctantly getting into the backseat. “Everytime we hang out, I learn something about you that makes me regret stalking Batman in the first place.”

     “So you admit you stalked him!” Jason exclaimed, getting back onto the road back to the manor. Tim let out another dramatic groan, but didn’t push the matter any further for the rest of the drive.

     “We’re back!” Jason announced, walking through the door and taking his coat and scarf off. X turned to him with bright eyes, her features glowing with happiness, and Jason flashed her a smug smirk. “You like the tree I got you, princess?”

     “Yes yes yes yes yes!” X confirmed, running over to him and leaping into his arms in answer. “Best Christmas ever! Best boyfriend ever! I love you, Jay!” She showered his face in kisses, showing him her appreciation, and Jason chuckled as he set her back down on the ground. Duke leaped forward quickly and covered Damian’s eyes with his hands, shielding him from the affectionate scene. 

     “Uh, maybe not when there are kids around?” he suggested awkwardly. 

     “Yeah,” Dick agreed, flashing the two of them a knowing look. “Save it for the bedroom, lovebirds.”

     X lowered her head as her cheeks heated up in embarrassment, but Jason caught her adorable little smile before she could hide it and his entire body warmed at the sight.

     “We found the ladder!” Bruce yelled, walking into the living room with an extendable ladder Roy was helping him hold up the end of. The two men set it down carefully by the tree and began opening it up, stretching it all the way to the top where the leaves just grazed the ceiling of Bruce’s mansion. 

     “Can I decorate it?! Please?!” X asked, bouncing up and down in excitement. Jason frowned and tightened his grip on her just a little. 

     “It’s too dangerous, sweetheart,” he warned her. He scrutinised the tree again, then let her go to reach for the ladder himself. “I’ll do it.”

     Bruce turned to Dick for answers to Jason’s suggestion, utterly confused as to why his grouchy little grinch of a second son was suddenly offering to decorate their enormous Christmas tree he’d so meticulously searched for. Dick nodded at X with a grin and Bruce’s features softened into a grateful smile. 

     X considered the ladder carefully, her teeth sinking into her lower lip with uncertainty. “Um, are you sure it can hold you, Jay?”

     Jason turned to her with a stunned look as everyone started laughing at her joke. He narrowed his eyes at her and she quickly shot him a sheepish smile that dampened his irritation at her statement.

     “I can do it,” Roy volunteered, stepping up onto the ladder before anyone else could argue. “Jay can just stand around and catch me if anything.” He pressed his lips together as everyone burst into another round of laughter, and did his best to maintain a straight face when Jason turned to glare at him instead. X wrapped her arms around Jason’s neck and pulled him down so she could kiss his cheek, distracting him from his irritation, and though Jason rolled his eyes at the action, no one missed the way his lips curled up at the ends.

     “So,” Jason began, rubbing X's back gently after they'd settled down in his old bed at the manor for the night, “what did you think of your first Christmas with the Wayne’s?”

     X let out a soft laugh at his words and tilted her head back so he could lean forward to press his lips to hers. “It was exciting! My favourite part was your gingerbread house. You looked so cute when you got all into it and everything! Is it like this every year?”

     Jason's gaze slid to the side as he let out a weary sigh. “Unfortunately, disaster tends to follow the Wayne family more closely than most.”

     His girlfriend ruffled his hair and Jason quickly returned his gaze to hers, his lips pulling into an affectionate smile. 

     “Not disaster, Jay,” she corrected him, shaking her head in disagreement. “Excitement.”

     Jason rolled his eyes, but continued to smile at the wicked glint in hers, and X took it as a sign to finally ask the question she'd been working up the courage to ask since they'd moved in together.

     “So, you’re … okay to spend next year at my family’s place?” she asked hesitantly. Her boyfriend always tensed up whenever she mentioned bringing him to meet her parents. They were gentle, hardworking people who lived in a good suburb tucked safely away from the savage centre of Gotham. They’d absolutely adored Jason when he and X had just been friends, fussing over him whenever he joined her in visiting them, but he’d become terrified that they wouldn’t approve of him dating their daughter. What did he have to offer her, after all, besides danger and trauma and anger and misery? But it was too embarrassing a thought for him to admit out loud - even if he knew that she already knew anyway. “Jay.”

     Jason turned back to her, a distracted expression on his face and X rubbed his cheek to bring his focus back to her.

     “My parents have only ever wanted me to find a guy who treats me well. And you spoil me rotten like a little princess!” She wriggled against him happily and thankfully, Jason relaxed a little. “They’ll be so proud to have you as their son-in-law.”

     He froze immediately at her words. ‘Son-in-law’? ‘Son-in-law’?! Her parents’ son-in-law? Like … Like their daughter’s … husband? He grimaced at the word - it just didn’t sound right in reference to him. He was … He was the furthest thing from husband material. But … he breathed in her sweet lavender scent and focused his senses on how soft and right she felt lying in his arms, the two of them tangled up under the covers. They could … Maybe they could … start a little family together … Little kids that he’d … he’d play with and … and teach and … cook meals for and that she’d come home to after work everyday; her own precious little family. He sucked in a breath as his heart started thudding in his chest, suddenly unsure how to feel about it.

     Shit! Shit, shit, shit! How could she let such serious words - such important words - slip out of her mouth so casually?! She bit her lip, rapidly trying to think of a response that would salvage the situation. “Uh and anyway, you’re still Bruce Wayne’s son! We always have that reputation to fall back on. Who’s gonna say no to Bruce Wayne’s son, right?” 

     She let out an awkward chuckle and tilted her head back to give Jason a nervous smile, scared to see his response. But he just grinned and pressed a kiss to her forehead.

     “We’ll spend next Christmas with your family,” he decided, convinced by the idea now. X's smile turned genuine and Jason's heart fluttered with definite happiness now.

     “Night, Jay Jay, I love you!” Jason pressed another kiss into his sweet little girlfriend's hair.

     “Night, my spoiled little princess. I love you, too.”

[tineteenieworld3]

Since today I’m in my loving Mike Wheeler era, I’m still irked by the idea that Jonathan would corner Mike and defend Will. I personally just don’t like it cause, again, if I was Mike I’d be so peeved off about it. Idk why.

Maybe it’s cause Jonathan has known Mike since he was 5 years old. Like, he’s obviously seen Mike not make the best choices, but he’s also seen Mike make many many many great choices. Like the van scene, Mike was so sweet while Will was talking and absolutely adored the painting. I don’t think Jonathan is sitting there thinking Mike is dumb or something. It’s possible they both saw Will crying and understood, since he turned away, that he didn’t want attention brought to it.

Also, we know he watched Will and Mike talk in his room. He saw how sweet they were being with each other. We focus on the mistakes Mike has made, but forget that he has a billion more good moments than bad. Also, Will and Mike are WillandMike they are extremely close. They don’t need anyone getting involved in their relationship. That’s what makes them so mature and different than El/Mike. We see other characters giving so much input into that relationship, like almost every character does. That’s what makes it feel so messy and immature (one of the things.

With Will and Mike it’s the complete opposite. the fight they have in season 3? Mike doesn’t need any prompting to go after Will, check on him, and apologize. We don’t see even a second of Lucas questioning it or wondering what happened or having him and Mike talking about it.

Season 4, almost the same exact thing. Mike goes to Will and apologizes and (very beautifully may I add) expresses his feelings perfectly as to why he’s sorry and why Will is important to him. I love their relationship for many reasons, but I’ve always appreciated how intimate and private it is. It’s no one else’s business that they fight or have miscommunication or other issues. Will doesn’t need someone to defend is honor from Mike, he can either do it himself or Mike will reach out and they’ll talk.

I’m probably talking about my ass lmao, but what I’m saying is basically what I said in an earlier post that Will isn’t a baby that needs protecting and he would be livid if anyone was going around saying, ‘you chose Mike? Really?’ or that he can do better. Mike is his best friend above anything else and that’s straight up mean. Again, no hate to people who do that or write that, it’s all for fun and everyone is allowed to do whatever they want absolutely this is not me bashing that I support you. I mean in actual canon I don’t think it would happen or I hope it won’t.

Jonathan has no right cornering Mike or getting up in his business or Will’s business. He also probably cares a lot about both of them and obviously knows Mike isn’t some dick that’s hurting anyone on purpose. What I’m saying is that I think it’s so special that Mike and Will have such privacy in their relationship because of how much they respect eachother and handle issues without outside input.

(Disclaimer, if you DO like the idea of Jonathan stepping in I completely support your opinion 100% and don’t think it’s wrong or stupid whatsoever, this is all for fun and I am all here for people disagreeing with me because my opinion is just an opinion and not fact or the right answer. I am not saying you’re misunderstanding the characters or anything like that, this is just something I think)

[mars-ipan]

Hi, it's me again. I decided to follow your advice and try to seek out your 'actually serious' analysis, which led me to your komahina bible, the most easy to find compilation of this supposed analysis. Here are my thoughts-

1) Overview

- Most of this 'analysis' isn't analysis but a summary/overview of the game. It's not so much a 'bible' as a children's book summary of the bible, which at that point it would be better to play the actual game itself. It's clear it was made for a presentation on the 'uninitiated' if you will, but if that's the case, you shouldn't be advertising it as the literal bible on the subject.

- When you are not regurgitating points from the game beat by beat, the screen is halfway filled with either manga panels or fanart. My gripes with manga panels are, that even though they do depict the events of the game, the way they can be depicted by the artist can be pretty subjective due to the freedom of the medium in comparison to sprites, and that the role of one character can differ depending on whose pov manga it is (chiaki vs nagito). Fan art therefore should be scrutinized even more since it fully depicts abstracted and even the fandomified version of events, leading to situations where it's either unclear what is actually happening or betrays your more shallow view of the characters (i talk abt this later.)

- When you do use pictures directly from the game it's either a possible screenshot from a memorable moment or dialog from the wiki, limited almost exclusively to the freetime events. This leads me to believe that you haven't actually played the game(there are other factors hinting towards this) or watched a Let's Play of it, but going off of merely information that's already widely known and circulating within the fandom, and easy to search on the wiki.

2) Incorrect/Questionable information

Here I'll compile a lot of information that's either plainly wrong or baffling to having come to that conclusion , leading more credence to the theory that you either haven't actually played the game or your memory of it isnt as good as you think.

-"if Nagito's plan went off of without a hitch, he would have killed anyone that was closes to him at the time" plainly wrong. Komaeda's goal from the start was to make himself the victim, so by dying this way his death could have meaning and help the others. For somebody that keeps talking about Komaeda's "Martyr complex" this is truly a weird take to have.

-"Nagito...got the nurse for sure sick" is there any proof that specifically points to Komaeda for this? I believe the takeaway should've been that Mikan got sick because she was around all of them AND she overworked herself trying to take care of them. Is this just an awkwardly phrased attempt to make more of a connection between Tsumiki and Komaeda? I don't think you needed more than the ones that already existed.

- "he helps Junko brainwash a bunch of students" Kamukura at neither point in the anime or Danganronpa 0 was ever specifically implicated in the brainwashing. He never 'helps' Junko, especially in that way. If you meant, participates in the student council killing game, you should've said that, but even then his agency and influence is limited.

-"they found the Remnants and captured them!"...no, they didn't. The Remnants presented themselves as survivors and the Foundation took them in. They handed themselves over willingly. It was a pretty big piece of the final part of the game...

3) Komaeda and Komahina

- "Nagito's habit of putting people on pedestals" Where. Sure, he certainly parrots the belief that the "Ultimates" as a unit are at the top of the food chain and should be prioritised, but its clear that doesn't exactly carry over to his classmates like teruteru, Kuzuryu and even Souda sometimes. Just because of a few positive comments refering to them as Ultimates and the trial which he literally breaks down in, this is a hard position to support.

-"Nagito manipulates Hajime into playing the game" How. He literally just told him to play it. How is that manipulation. Also, isn't it a bit unfair to put the blame on Koizumi's death to him as well? I think they were multiple factors playing into this, but sure, how else are you gonna convince people that Komaeda is a twisted fucking cyclepath that loves leading people to their deaths.

-The way that you say the Kuzuryu/Pekoyama relationship mirrors Komahina as 'I will give up my agency for you/ I just want you' is also confusing. Unless of course you mirror Peko's struggle with her agency and harmful beliefs the clan enforced on her with Komaeda's own belief system, in which case, idk man, i feel like you are giving a bit too much credit to the supposed severity of Komaeda's views and trying too hard to make Hinata the 'rational' and 'grounding' one in the relationship.

- Again, the amount of times you refer to Komaeda as a freak for doing something 'weird' or even being drawn weirdly doing it , mostly in the manga, makes me belief this isn't just an affectionate tongue in cheek joke as you claim, but an actual way in which your interpretation of Komaeda is colored.

-"it doesn't excuse his nonchalance towards tragedy and murder but explains it" what needs to be excused here exactly? Komaeda doesn't need to immediately bawl his eyes out when someone gets killed or else he's suspicious and...bad? I am confused with what you mean by this. If you mean that Komeada shouldn't be so nonchalant about murder because he's constantly trying to kill someone else, that is plainly incorrect and i explained above why.

-Posturing about Komaeda's 'black and white thinking' while in the next exact slide you show fanart of him smugly explaining he has Borderline. First, i want you to explain to me the black and white thinking in a way that isn't "oh, the friends and classmates i previously liked turned out to be fucking terrorists". I think that's a pretty justifiable situation for your thinking to go from white to black. Also, if that is enough credence to assign Komaeda BPD, you really don't know how BPD works, especially since you assigned it to the one character you constantly talk about being a freak (and also lust...pseudo lust? after).

- The insistence with Hinata not really understanding Komaeda and running away, even if he wants to understands him is pretty suspect, especially when compared to the game. Hinata is confused and overwhelmed yes, but it's not just that he wants to understand Komaeda but that he still feels fondness for him, he still follows his advice and puts his faith in him and the way he mourns him in Chapter 5 is also pretty indicative of this. It's just another part in the pattern in you making Hinata the confused, rational, 'morally pure' man that's 'tempted' by 'corrupted' manic pixie mentally ill demon Komaeda. Something tells me your priest AU isn't so much playing with dolls as much as...what you actually believe these characters dynamic is.

- The whole page where Servant is basically made into a joke about how hot and sexy and freaky he is doesn't help your point either.

-The most damning evidence of course is a drawing in the second to last slide, wherein Komaeda is supposed to be analogous to 'guy who has something wrong with him' (distorted, freak, mentally ill) and Hinata is analogous to the guy that 'is the only one that understands them' (the rational one, the relationship of understanding doesn't go both ways).

- Your slide with sources is pretty vague and unclear. Also the way that you credit "Your superior mind" before the game itself when all you've been doing is repeating and misinterpreting the plot of the game is ...ironic

So yeah, that's all I got. Feel free to 'debunk' my observations as much as you please, I just want to know if there's actual basis behind everything you just said or I should go digging for 'the actual serious analysis' yet again.

i think you forgot that fandom is meant to be fun

[fingertipsmp3]

Maybe I did this to myself but it does irk me when people see me knitting and they ask who it’s for and I say it’s for me and the immediate reaction is “you should sell it” yeah… let me spend at least a week’s worth of my free time making an item I like, want, and would wear just to sell it on etsy, making at most a £2 profit on materials and not being compensated for my time whatsoever 👍🏻

[floral-hex]

woke up at 4am feeling the weight of my life crushing me, so I’ve been sitting out in my car for the last couple of hours because I just need. to. be. somewhere else.

[badolmen]

I am regularly shocked that people under the age of 18 are on this site. That’s illegal you can’t do that. <- joined when I was 15 and the site still had “go nuts, show nuts” in its TOS FAQs, no filtering or blacklist function to speak of, and no community labels.

[canisonicscrewyou]

WHAT WOULD KOSCH ORDER AT BUX

I need to think longer on individual regenerations. But. For the Master in general just….

Ungodly amounts of caffeine. Especially when he learns what to order. Like. A large uncut cold brew with x3 shots of espresso, no ice, and an unsettling amount of chai concentrate pumps. (Like, to the point where that shit must BURN. it’s spicy if you don’t mix it with anything.). No milk. Maybe an extra syrup. Cinnamon or toffee most likely. If there’s ice in the drink he chews it while he drinks it. It’s bitter and spicy and yet too sweet. There’s also a not-insignificant-amount of ginger juice in the chai concentrate, so I imagine it might give him at least a BIT of a buzz too. A bonus.

Extra Large Cold Brew, No Water, No Ice, 5 Blonde Espresso Shots, 20 Pumps Chai Concentrate, 10 Pumps Toffeenut Syrup. He can and will make you remake it if he’s in an even remotely bad mood. You know it’s a terrible no good horrible fucking dogshit day if he orders mocha syrup instead of toffeenut.

A large cup of whipped cream or cold foam on the side is not unheard of from the Master either. You’ll watch him drink both drinks separately. He won’t sit down, he won’t stay in the lobby long. Just enough to down his fucking concoctions and maybe hate on a barista who’s vibes he doesn’t like.