#MY TEETH STILL FUCKING HURT. NOT THAT ANY OF YOU SELF CENTERED BITCHES EVEN CARE.

[dothemindything]

I EITHER LIKE YOU OR I DON'T.

USE THIS INFORMATION WISELY.

[itsamejin]

goodbye || yoongi angst

Part 2

Summary: Yoongi watched silently as you exited the car and out of his life, but he can’t help but feel a sense of panic at the thought of you leaving him for good.

Warning: cursing, fighting (verbal)

Genre: angst

Premise: Yoongi drives off without you after a heated argument and now you’re gone.

Commission Request: @queenoftheuniverseandmyroom​

Word Count: 3,434 words

—

Yoongi doesn’t quite remember when this heated conversation started or how it really ended either. He just recalls how furious you were leaving the restaurant you two had reserved weeks before for your anniversary and how he was left to clean up the mess. Wine was spilled onto the white table sheets and he had to pay the waiter extra for leaving in such a hurry. 

Now here he was, driving silently with you sulking in the passenger seat. Even as he sat in the car, hands on the steering wheel, he couldn’t help but feel like you were the one driving with how closely you kept your eyes on the road. You glared at the view in front of you, paying him no attention. His throat itched to say something, anything to break this uncomfortable silence.

“Are you gonna stop being mad at me now?” he asks, annoyed with the little puffs of breathing you would make just to spite him. “Did you get it all out of your system yet?”

You had shouted in the restaurant, loud enough for the other patrons to hear and tense up at the sound of your voice. When the waiter had come to calm you down, you had stomped out of the restaurant. 

He was sure the conversation started on the topic of you possibly adopting a new pet, but it somehow morphed into a whole debate about his bad habit of staying cooped up in his studio until the break of dawn. You wanted him to spend more time with you and he wanted you to be more understanding. It was the same old argument you two had, rehashed into a different day. 

“Well you’re still being an asshole,” you start, rolling your eyes, “so I don’t want to fucking talk to you until you apologize.”

Yoongi clicks his tongue to the roof of his mouth. It always seemed to be his fault in situations like this and you always had to pout like a child to make him feel bad. He was getting sick of this- of trying to constantly figure out what you wanted from him. It’s like you two would try to communicate like all those other stable couples, but the wrong words would spill from your mouths each time. 

“We didn’t even get to eat,” he mutters under his breath, slightly hoping that you would hear him just to piss you off even more. If you wanted to be grumpy the whole way through then he too could play that game.

“You’re such a dick you know that?” you sigh, shaking your head at his words.

“How could I not when that was all you were screaming about,” Yoongi replies as he rolls his eyes. He yielded at a stop sign, making sure to still abide by the law even though he was fuming with frustration. “You made a fucking scene and embarrassed the hell out of us.”

You scoffed. From what you remember, he was the one trying to escalate the argument when you calmly tried to convince him of getting a dog. It was a rescue- a St. Bernard that would make a mess from time to time, but you were fine with taking care of it by yourself. He had said no so quickly and a little too disdained that you switched the conversation to something more light-hearted. You asked him a day when he wouldn’t be too busy to go on a date and somehow that had pissed him off even more. To you, it felt like he hated the sight of you lately.

“I ask you for something simple. ‘Hey Yoongi, we haven’t seen each other in a while. Maybe we should go out more?’ But, no! You say the same fucking thing about focusing on your music like you haven’t been doing that for almost a decade. You’d think after three years of dating I’d be more of a priority by now...”

Yoongi grits his teeth. That’s not what he said back there and that’s clearly not what he meant either. He was frustrated that you changed the topic when clearly you two weren’t done discussing about the dog yet. He didn’t want to suddenly walk home one day and find some mutt lying on the apartment floor without his permission. You guilt-tripping him to go on a date with you so quickly after you demanded for a dog didn’t sit well with him either.

“It’s my job, you can’t ask me to just forget about my job just so we can go on dates with each other,” he sighs, attempting to calm his nerves by squeezing the steering wheel a bit tighter. “You know how sensitive I am about my work.”

You scoff in response.

“Yeah, yeah,” you roll your eyes. “I’ll always be the second choice. I know that by now Yoongi.”

Yoongi bit his lip and shook his head.

“You’re putting words in my mouth,” he says, exasperated. “I would never pin you and my work against each other-”

“And if you had to?” you ask menacingly. “If I fucking asked you right now if you would choose me over your music, what would you say?”

Yoongi sighs deeply. This was not the direction he wanted this conversation to go in and this was not the direction he was supposed to be taking the car either. He glares at the GPS as it reroutes, avoiding eye contact with you simultaneously. 

“You know how fucking self-centered that question is,” he replies, venom laced in his voice. It felt like this conversation always comes back every few months, your words grating in the back of his mind until the next outburst would pop up. “I’m not gonna fucking answer. You know I’d actually really appreciate it if you would just get to the point and stop being a bitch.��

You scoff at him. There he goes again. When he was left speechless, he’d resort to calling you names and giving excuses. It didn't matter to you what the outcome would be, but you wanted to see this argument until the end.

“Yoongi, what is the point really?” you snide, crossing your arms over your chest as if forming a shield around you. “Is it how I said I wanted a dog because I was getting lonely at the apartment?”

Yoongi rolls his eyes.

“You can get the fucking dog, I don’t care about the fucking dog [Y/N]-”

“Or is it how you ignored my calls when I had the flu so you can go drinking with your friends?”

“[Y/N] I literally apologized for that months ago, why the fuck-”

“Oh my god and how dare I ask for time with my boyfriend when I haven’t seen him properly in months, especially on our anniversary day!”

“You’re really pissing me off-”

“Or,” you raise your voice slightly, shifting in your seat as Yoongi slowed the pace of the car. “Was it when you accidentally called me while you were talking to Hoseok?”

Bingo.

Yoongi screeched the car to a stop. Your shared apartment was still miles away but he had stopped at a suburban block of townhouses to face you. His hands were shaking and he glared into the side of your head, beckoning for you to return his gaze. You refused, keeping the seat belt tightly against your chest as you stared at the night sky ahead of you.

“I said that when I was drunk,” he said slowly, intimidating you just a tad bit. “I thought we already went over this.”

You pursed your lips and shook your head, tears threatening to spill over your already puffy eyes.

“You can’t keep fucking saying ‘I apologized’ or ‘we went over this’ and expect me not to still feel hurt,” you say through trembling lips. “It doesn’t make me feel any better.”

Yoongi adjusted himself on the driver’s seat so that he was facing you.

“Is that why you’ve been mad at me?” he asked seriously. “It’s not because of the dog?”

You sighed out of frustration, throwing your hands in the air.

“It was never about me wanting a fucking dog, Yoongi!” you scream. 

—

“Hoseok, can I tell you something?” you hear through a call from Yoongi that seemed more like a butt-dial the more you listened to his drunken voice. You kept trying to get a response from him, but it seemed like he was talking to someone else.

“Dude, you're fucking wasted,” you could hear the sound of his group-mate’s chuckle on the other side.

“No, like seriously,” Yoongi whined. “It’s about [Y/N].”

“Girl troubles?”

“Nah, she’s just being dumb lately,” you heard him mutter. A tiny part of you had felt hurt, but then again you two had argued a bit before he drank. You would complain about him similarly to your own friends, so you couldn’t really judge him for talking shit about you.

“What did you do this time?”

“It’s not me this time, bro,” he said through his laughter.

“Really? Then what the hell did she do?”

“That’s the thing,” Yoongi said, slurring his speech to the point that you could barely understand him. “She hasn’t done anything and I still fucking find her annoying.”

Now that one hurt. It was no secret that Yoongi and you were going through a rough patch in your relationship, but to hear him talk about it in so much detail with his friend made you nauseated. It was an extremely uncalled-for insult and you weren’t sure if the tears that streamed down your face fully conveyed the ache in your chest.

“Relax, bro,” Hoseok says reassuringly. “Don’t say anything you’re gonna end up regretting later.”

“No, but seriously,” Yoongi protested. “Her voice is so fucking irritating lately and, like, I’m not even sure if I really like her anymore, you know?”

You could feel your heart crumble at the spot. No matter how bad an argument got, statements like that always went too far. How was Yoongi able to spit it out so easily?

“Okay man, we need you to sober up,” Hoseok sighed. “You sound dumb as hell right now.”

“Hoseok, I want to break up with her so fucking bad,” Yoongi sighed through the phone. “But like it’s been so long I feel like I should just wait it out and see if she wants to end things first.”

You could hear something drop from the other line.

“And now you’re on the fucking floor,” you hear Hoseok mutter. “Dude I think you butt-dialed someone. Oh shit-”

You took the phone away from your ear, not wanting to hear Hoseok apologize for stuff your stupid boyfriend said. You hung up the phone and wiped away your tears. Yoongi didn’t love you and you didn’t know what hurt more- the fact that he could say it while intoxicated or that he didn’t have the guts to tell you sober.

—

“Whatever I said that night wasn't me,” he said, trying to get you to face him. “You know that. I said it when I was mad at you and mad at myself and I will never say it again. I swear.”

You refused to even take a glimpse at him, grabbing your purse from the car floor and clutching it to your torso.

“I love you [Y/N],” he pleads. “I said that shit because I needed to get it out of my system. Please, at least... just look at me.”

You shake your head as you wipe away a tear from your eye.

“I don’t want to look at you,” you whisper solemnly. “All I fucking asked for was some time together and you think I’m ruining your career.”

He closes his eyes out of frustration. By now he thought you’d know the consequences of dating an idol.

“Because our relationship will ruin my career [Y/N], what aren’t you getting?” he replies. “The more dates I go out with you, the more people that watch us- the more people that criticize what we have.”

“Would that be so bad?” you say, finally staring up at him, but avoiding eye-contact. His heart clenched at the sight of you in pain. “Would it hurt you so much that we’re seen together?”

He shook his head.

“You’re twisting my words, I never said that,” he sighs.

“If you want to say you’re ashamed of me then-”

“That’s not what I’m fucking saying!” Yoongi screams, grabbing onto your shoulders to face him fully. “This isn’t just about us. I’ll be affecting the lives of so many people in my company, but I choose to still be with you despite the consequences because I love you-”

You detach yourself from his reach as your cries get louder. It hurt to hear him speak.

“This isn’t love anymore Yoongi,” you whimper, your purse falling onto the floor as you tried to breathe through the sobs. “You said it yourself, you’re annoyed with my fucking voice.”

“I didn’t mean it,” he says softly, stroking your cheek as you looked down at your lap. “You know I love you. I tell you all the time.”

You pushed his hand away from your face and looked up at him in anger.

“Do you, Yoongi? When was the last time you showed that to me?”

He ran his fingers through his hair. Why do you keep asking these questions.

“I’m making enough money to support us. I buy you gifts all the time,” he replies. Yoongi feels that he must’ve said something wrong as you verbally cringed at his words. “I’m literally paying for the fucking apartment we live in right now. If I didn’t love you, I wouldn’t be doing all this for you to live a comfortable life!”

You scoff at his words. Clearly he thinks money solved all the issues in your relationship and that you should feel thankful for him being so “considerate”. You were sick with his reasoning, not really convinced that he even knew what you two were fighting about.

“Well how about this: I can’t fucking get a pet without asking for your permission; I can’t go out with you unless I wear something that conceals my identity; I can’t even fucking tell my friends or family that I’m in a relationship!” you scream as your sobs get louder and louder. “And I can’t even get you to spend some time with me without begging for your attention.”

His own tears had started to fall, staining the velvet seats of his car. You had looked so furious at the restaurant, but before him you were so very vulnerable. He can’t help but feel like he had broken you somehow. He realized then that he went too far- that maybe he should’ve kept his mouth shut and let you air out your grievances.

“I’ll do better, I promise I will,” he says softly in an attempt to comfort you, patting your hair gently. “It’ll be okay. We’ll be okay.”

You bring your hands to your eyes, crying into them as Yoongi tried to console you. It wasn’t working and you weren’t even sure if anything he could say would cheer you up at this point. 

“I don’t even know you anymore, Yoongi,” you say between sobs.

“Yes you do,” he replies, albeit a bit aggressively. “Stop saying shit like that. You know me better than I know myself.”

You shake your head as you clicked out of the confines of the seat belt which suffocated you, but not as much as his touch was.

“We should have never gotten together,” you say harshly. “If dating you was just gonna end in me hating myself I would have much rather not known you existed.”

He blinked back from the harshness of your words. Where was this coming from?

“You don’t mean that,” he says softly. “I know you don’t mean that.”

You pursed your lips. He was making it so hard for you to leave and like always, he found a way to get you back into his arms with little difficulty. You always listened to him, always at his beck and call. It was tiring being in a relationship with you being the one at his mercy.

“I can’t do this anymore, Yoongi,” you say, pushing him away as you reach your hand out to open the door to the passenger car. “I can’t spend the rest of my life feeling like I’m not good enough to be with you.”

He holds onto your wrist before you do so. 

“Just calm down,” he croaks. “Please.”

You shrug his arm off.

“I don’t want to,” you sob. “Just let me end this. Isn’t that what you wanted? For me to leave first so that you wouldn't have to feel like the shitty one in the end?”

An uncomfortable silence formed between you as your words echoed in his ear. No matter how many times he apologizes, it seems like you weren’t willing to forgive him.

“If you leave, I’m not coming to get you,” he seethes. “If you leave, that’s you telling me you’re giving up on us.”

The first time that night, you looked directly into his chocolate eyes and with a new sense of determination, you opened the door.

“Goodbye, Yoongi,” you say, exiting the car finally and walking away from his sight. 

He didn’t even notice how you had hesitated, how you secretly wished for him to beg for you to stay- that he would finally learn his lesson and apologize the right way. Without excuses and without pinning the blame on you.

Instead, Yoongi opted to punch his steering wheel and let out a groan as the pain in his fist formed. Were relationships supposed to be this hard? Was he supposed to fight for you every time you tried to walk out of his life? He didn't know anymore. If you wanted to come back then you would, it shouldn’t always be up to him.

—

Yoongi made it home safely, parking in front of your shared apartment, looking from his car window to see if the lights were on. 

They weren’t. 

Yoongi heaved out a deep sigh and rubbed his forehead. You weren't home yet and it was the dead of the night. ‘You know what, whatever,’ he thought to himself, ‘it’s none of my business anymore.’

He had assumed you got a taxi ride back home, but obviously he was proven wrong when he walked into the dark apartment, cool from the lack of heating. He went through each room and you weren’t anywhere in sight. He sighed. Was this really it? Did your relationship just end because he wouldn't let you get that stupid dog?

He could hear you crying out to him that it wasn’t about the dog- that it was him who ruined the relationship. Yoongi ignored that voice in his head, in fear of guilt taking over his body.

Yoongi tried to quell his solemn thoughts with a few cans of beer on the lonely living room couch, but nothing really numbed the pain enough for him to stop visualizing your tear stained face. It was the way you looked at him so sadly, so full of disappointment. He used to be able to tell why you were sad, pinpoint the exact reasons, but now he wasn’t sure anymore. He opened the fridge, greeted by the anniversary cake you had baked for him just the night before. He cringed at the sight of it as it made him feel even more regretful with how the night’s events unfolded. 

Yoongi didn’t take the cake out and closed the fridge door. He didn’t know why it took a well made cake for him to realize that it was fucking stupid to let you walk out by yourself all alone. He moved to grab his cellphone to hopefully apologize and end the argument, but alas no answer. He tried several times again and nothing. He grabbed the car keys from the kitchen counter and raced downstairs to his parked car. As he was about to start the engine, Yoongi saw from the corner of his eye that your phone was on the passenger seat. 

It was fully drained of battery and the purse you were clutching so tightly just earlier was on the car floor. Immediately, panic had overcome his body and he banged his head on the steering wheel for how careless he had acted. You were missing and in a part of town that neither of you were familiar with. He groaned out of frustration, no longer angry at you but with himself.

“Why the fuck did I let her go?”

—

A/N: Finally getting around to finishing my commissions. Sorry for the delay @queenoftheuniverseandmyroom​ , but hopefully you like this first part! Thank you so much for your patience and for requesting something that I was really interested writing about. You are a *star*. I hate writing about arguments because they make me sad but I love the angst that comes with the aftermath LOL. Who do you side with more? Was Y/N too stubborn or was Yoongi too insensitive? Let me know!

PS. Currently working on it’s you part 2. I’m really busy with personal life stuff so please be patient with me. I love y'all <3

[deepseavibez]

Fall Pronto_1 || JHS

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-> Picture Source - Pinterest

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Fall Pronto [Hoseok x Reader]

Part 1 || Part 2

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Genre - Smut; 21+; Best Friends Brother

Summary - Hoseok was quiet. He focused on work and stayed out of the way. He was calm and collected. He was patient. He didn't even dispute your food choices. What a man. It made sense that he stayed over while he visited the city for business;you had the space and it would only be a few days. There was nothing complicated about a short visit, of course not, after all, he was only your best friend's brother. Right?

🎶 - Waves - KANG DANIEL (feat. Simon Dominic & Jamie

Warning - 21+!Only; Smut; Vulgarity;

Word Count - 2.1k

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It was late, a bit after two in the morning according to your bedside clock as you squinted to look at it properly. Your throat dry and skin itchy from the humid weather, you threw the covers off and stepped onto the wooden floors.

As you walked down the hall, a glance at the room next to you, the door wide open and bed untouched confirmed your roommate hadn't returned for the night.

Shaking your head absently, you decided to call her when you got back in your room. She worked too hard, too late, and she was too in love with her job.

But then, Seri was one of the lucky ones that way. Her family was well off, her job was perfect for her and she was beautiful.

You would be salty about it, but Seri was wonderful. A kind heart, caring and she was one of your best friends.

You sighed, a smile crossing your face at the thought of one of the most important people in your life.

Barefoot, in purple cotton shorts and a shirt, you walked to the kitchen. Delirious and tired, you navigated yourself through the dimly lit house, purely by muscle memory.

Yawning, you reflexively covered your mouth with your hand as you passed through the lounge and into the kitchen, illuminated by the moonlight shining through the window above the sink.

Opening the fridge, you scrunched your nose as you found nothing to your liking, so you grabbed a cup from the overhead drawer, and filled it in the ice water dispenser.

Humming at the coolness of it against your hand, and placing it against your lips, you were just about to drink as you turned around, only to let out a ear piercing shriek.

Cup forgotten, you clutched at your heart as you identified the familiar face and struggled to compose yourself.

The cup of water and its contents on the floor in pieces, you stared up at the face of the man that plagued your mind and caused you sleepless nights.

Jung Hoseok was absolutely handsome. A diamond shaped face, brown eyes and a jawline created to stand out he haunted your every sane thought. And considering the circumstances his presence did nothing to calm your fast beating heart.

Now dressed in nothing but a pair of shorts, his clear smooth skin, lean tummy and muscles drew your attention. You gulped audibly, trying to be as discreet as possible about his affect on you.

Would it be too much to hope my reaction could be passed as being chicken shit for the dark.

You thought it would be okay to have Hobi over, after all his sister was your roommate and he was only crashing for a week or two. But the days proved to already be too much.

You were antsy and you weren't used to being so flustered. Being single and having no sex for almost a year now, didn't help. You didn't want to feel so drawn to him, but it happened gradually and yet, all at once. Like a fine wine aging to potency.

His presence, was a stark thing. Within the hour of meeting him, your body hummed in awareness of the man, butterflies fluttered through you when you made eye contact with him and if it was even possible, the heat always kicked up a notch when he was around.

Hoseok saved his smile. For his sister. For a good plate of food. For his best friend, Yoongi. Other than that he made head nods a common acknowledgement for you.

Initially you just had an uncomfortable vibe with Hoseok around, which was fair. He was a stranger in your home and in your personal space, of course you felt uncomfortable. But you knew yourself, it was not just about leaning away when he leaned forward, or not making any skin contact with him through effort, you noticed that once it did happen, you wanted it way too much.

You can remember all too well, as you walked out of your room less than a day ago, and straight into something solid and warm. His hands caught at your arms as he looked you over and steadied you. The slight touch sent tingles across you, wanting to lean into his scent, his cologne, the expanse of him already too large in front of your 5'2 frame. You jumped back as if burned and mumbled an apology as you scurried away.

He said nothing to you. Didn't push you or anyone else, you had probably never met someone so set in their standard way of life and yet meeting middle ground with others.

As far as you knew the work habits ran in the family, because he always had his laptop open, one hand on it while he spoke on his Bluetooth and texted with the other. Direct and blunt, his voice carried over commands as if disobedience was never invited to the party.

His rolled up shirt sleeves and the Audemars Piguet watch on his hand, as you walked in on the scene almost had you closing your eyes asking for help from the universe. Because those forearms, curled around you, near you, those hands on you, those fingers in you... the cold shower you had did nothing for you that evening.

Now as he stared at the broken pieces on the floor and your clearly shaken form, you cursed yourself for actually forgetting he was under the same roof as you.

Blinking rapidly, you hissed at him. 'You freaking scared me!'

This man, he didn't deserve your tone, or the disrespect, but he triggered ferity in you on a level so intense you stayed as far away from your apartment as possible while he was around. It was all you could do to protect yourself.

'I happen to live here too,' he looked at you with irritation.

At least that reaction helped; irritation deserved irritation.

Deciding you shouldn't make a snide remark about how long he would be staying, you turned your attention away from him to the floor. Moving your hair aside, you looked down at your bare feet, hunting a way out of the sea of glass that could much likely hurt like a bitch if you stepped on it.

A short look, confirmed that Hoseok wasn't fine either, his feet were bare too.

So engrossed, with your dilemma you didn't notice, Hoseok huff in impatience and reach for you.

You yelped as a pair of strong arms, grabbed you under your thighs, hands flailing as you caught at his shoulders. Even in your shocked state you reveled at the feel of his muscles under your palm, and it took a portion of self control you didn't think you had not to grip into them with your nails and run your hands across the smooth expanse of his skin.

Your legs instinctively wrapped themselves around his waist, the action putting your center's together, the ravaging demand to rock your hips into his was leashed in before you could carry it through.

'What the hell are you doing!' The panic in you could be heard through your cold voice.

'Are you fucking kidding me? You're barefoot! Do you want to get cut?' You brushed aside his concern. You had to. The odds already too stacked against you.

'You're also barefoot,' pointing it out by looking down.

He ignored you. You stared at him waiting for some sort of explanation. He averted your eyes and didn't give one, so you took it upon yourself to try and get out of his grip.

'Can you stop? I'm trying to help you!' he said gruffly as you wiggled.

You huffed, and pushed harder at him, but he had a strong grip. 'I can take care of myself.'

You needed space. You needed to be away from him.

Something wild in you reared it's head but you pushed it aside. Baring it's teeth, you knew all too well you wanted this man and you hated it.

He moved his hands from your waist, and tightened it on your ass, adding more pressure to your center. You only now noticed he was hard. Very hard.

You held back a moan at the realization, but couldn't stop the breath leaving your body as you made eye contact with him.

Stilling yourself, hunting for a thread of calm, you cleared your throat and swallowed through the harsh lump formed in it.

Looking away you frantically searched for the next logical step in the situation. You felt your demeanor tearing itself apart, ice cracking into pieces.

Close to tears at wanting something you shouldn't and the frustration of the situation adding onto it, you whispered softly, 'Please put me down... away from the glass.' You sounded breathless, and you hated it, but assertive all the same.

Surprisingly, he listened. He managed to evade the glass as he walked you over to the island across the kitchen and placed you on it. Letting go off him you looked down, if he'd stepped wrong his expression didn't indicate it. So you swallowed your concern.

'Thank you.' You dragged it through clenched teeth. You evaded eye contact as you said it. Your blood was raging. Your skin too sensitive, too soft.

His hands finally leaving you made you feel empty, but at least you were safer, more from yourself than him.

You waited.

He just needed to move away from you and get out from the space between your legs, then you could get your shoes and clean up this mess.

He didn't.

You looked up at him again, an annoyed, questioning expression on your face.

'I want to know what's your problem with me.' Slightly taken aback at the direct question, you managed to keep yourself composed. Hobi never smiled around you, you didn't even think you were allowed to think of him as Hobi either. He reserved that right for his friends. But that was fine, you never intended to be his friend. He needed to leave as soon as possible. Sunday couldn't come fast enough.

'Move,' you bit out, wanting to crawl out of your skin with the need to sink your teeth on the firm muscle of the man in front of you. 'I need to clean up.'

He leaned in closer, hands on either side of you, caging you in. 'You're pissy with me. You have been since I got here.' His breath fanned your face, you tried evening yours. 'And you don't get out of this position until I know why.' His tone was quiet, but molded in steel, that of a man who had clearly reached his limit.

And so had you.

'Fawning over you is not a requirement Hoseok,' you managed with a smile and a tone so sweet, it drew blood.

'Someone should bite you... hard.' he responded gruffly. 'Then maybe you'd loosen up a little bit.'

You clenched at the near snarl, his tone doing all sorts of things to your body. Especially making the pooling between your thighs more noticeable.

Your nails dug into your skin, as you felt his breathe on your lips. 'It's not like you've been very forthcoming since you've got here.' Nerves far too close to the surface, you needed out or you really wouldn't be able to keep that part of you under wraps.

'Oh hell no!' His eyes slammed into yours. It was the first time you'd heard him come remotely close to raising his voice. 'Don't you dare pin this on me.'

'You took one look at me and decided you couldn't stand me, and I want to know why.'

You breathed in, an attempt to calm your beating heart.

'Look,' you started, 'I'm an asshole generally.'

'That's bullshit and you know it! I've seen you with others. Especially my sister.' His anger was a palpable thing. A blade with a serrated edge would have been less dangerous.

Patience wearing thin, you snapped, 'Get out of my face Hoseok!' You pushed at his chest.

'Are you sure I should?' He leaned in further, restraint evident he continued, 'You probably swipe at me because you can't have me close enough!'

You inhaled sharply.

His eyes widened in shock, as he pulled back. His mouth fell open at your reaction, a resounding, 'Fuck,' leaving his lips.

Part 1 || Part 2

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[dopescotlandwarrior]

Sinners & Saints - Chapter One

                     Special thanks to @statell​ for all your help.

Find on AO3

Chapter One

Galerie Charpentier is home to Sotheby’s Auction house in the center of the Parisian art world and host to almost eighty auctions per year. Art buyers worldwide watch for pieces to add to their collection and millions of dollars change hands as the gavel comes down on the final bids. A rare Rembrandt was up for sale today. One of three self-portraits done by the artist and the only one still in a private collection. The estimated price at auction is twenty-eight to thirty-five million dollars for the eight by twelve-inch painting. It will elevate any collection to new boasting heights and there is a lot of interest.

Jamie Fraser walked the halls of the auction house and checked in on his team trying to stay clear of buyers flocking into the building. He could care less about the art bought and sold today. He was here to catch a master art thief, his nemesis, who bested him at every turn. Jamie was number one in the world for profiling and catching the most accomplished thieves until he signed on to find Casper, the most prolific art thief in Europe. He was dubbed Casper because he came in and went out like a ghost, leaving nothing behind.

Jamie’s jaw clenched thinking of the many times he was closing in on his prey only to have him vanish with the prized art. This time was different, he could feel it. He was tipped off by a black-market snitch that told him the Rembrandt would be in play soon and that painting was being sold today. Casper had to be here, and Jamie would leave him crippled when he took him down. Payback for leading a merry chase for the past two years.

Jamie walked quickly toward the back entrance to verify the doors were locked. He was surprised to pass a large group of people in one of the auditoriums and glanced at the signboard, Doctor Claire Beauchamp, professor of fine arts, University of Chicago. By the size of the audience, she was quite popular. Jamie caught a glimpse of the striking professor in a body-hugging dress that she wore like a fashion model. Black rimmed glasses were perched on her nose above red lipstick and a pile of hair on top of her head that looked exquisitely messy. She pushed a coil of hair off her face and looked up at a huge screen, flipping slides with a remote control. One word came to Jamie’s mind; fascinating. His earpiece crackled and he spun around to head back to the front of the building.

Claire Beauchamp clicked for the next slide, clicked again, and again to no avail. She apologized to the audience and ripped her headset off to find some assistance. Five minutes later she was back to wrap up the lecture with the slides moving perfectly.

Jamie walked by the auditorium three more times as the professor worked her way through the questions, signed copies of her new book, and accepted the thanks of the Parisian art world. Jamie watched her, knowing the auction was underway and the clock was ticking on Casper’s entrance.

“Doctor Beauchamp, there’s a rumor you’re joining the team to catch Casper. Any truth to that?”

“Well, no. He has stolen pieces that I have a particular fondness for, and I would love to help catch him, but I have not been asked. It’s just a rumor.”

Claire shrugged her shoulders and smiled at the last of the people leaving. She stuffed her materials into her briefcase and took a deep cleansing breath. She had one more meeting and a plane to catch back to Chicago. She would give anything for a day to herself in Paris to wander around the Louvre and spend as much time as she wanted with the Masters. Maybe next time, she thought.

Claire emerged from the auditorium and made her way to the back entrance where she was allowed to park. She stopped abruptly and opened her case, smiling when she saw her headset tucked safely inside. She pulled the case up to secure the retaining strap and lowered her arm as the explosion blew her sideways, off her feet, and into a wall that was coming down. She could hear herself screaming until something heavy hit her on the head. Her screaming stopped.

Claire was vaguely aware she was laying in rubble from an explosion. The rubble was warm and had hands that held her upper arms, and a voice that kept asking if she was alright. She tried to lift her head and bumped it on something above her.

“What the bloody hell?”

Her hands were splayed on someone’s chest and she felt around deciding it was a male with a body like Arnold Schwarzenegger! Claire looked to her right and left seeing the tiny space they were pinned into and her heart pounded in her chest, feeling the claustrophobic fear that made elevators impossible.

“Jesus Christ, I have to get out of here, right now! Help me get out of here Mister, please!”

She felt the beefy arms wrap around her and hold her down making the panic even worse. Her wiggling made it hard to hear the man saying her name, getting more stern by the second. He finally held her tightly to him and warned her not to move.

“Doctor Beauchamp, Doctor Beauchamp, Claire! Stop moving! Something is holding the tonnage of walls, ceiling, and live wires above us. If you knock it loose it will kill us. Do you understand?”

Claire gripped his arms and panted from her attempt to escape. She listened to his voice calming her down and telling her to breathe with him. He was very encouraging and kept telling her they would be all right. He talked her down from a panic attack but kept his hands on her to be sure.

“May I call you Claire?”

“Yes,” she whispered.

“Alright, thank you. I need your help lass. Look around for something strong, like metal, a strong metal box, or something like that not connected to anything, free moving and about a foot tall. Do you see anything like that?”

“Why, for what?” Claire finally lifted her head a few inches and looked up at the man’s head, but it wasn’t there. A very large piece of the wall was suspended right above his throat and his head was on the other side of it.

“Oh my God, oh my God! Sweet Jesus, what are we going to do?” Her panic was rising again, and the arms came around her while the disembodied voice told her to breathe and keep her wits about her. It took several minutes but she finally gained control again and looked around for something strong with the limited space she had to lift her head.

“There are cinder blocks in the rubble, two of them are not touching anything. Will those work Mister?”

“Sorry lass, my name is Jamie, and those might hold this wall up long enough for me to scoot free of it. Can you move one, can you reach it?”

Claire could move the block slowly by stretching her arm until it hurt. Little by little she scooted the cinder block closer to the wall, muttering about a decapitated Arnold and she didn’t want to be alone. Jamie patiently calmed her reminding her to breathe deeply. He helped her push the block under the section of wall and patted her shoulder, thanking her for being so brave. Claire felt the man’s body scooting slowly, taking her with him an inch at a time until he was free of the would-be guillotine.

Jamie laid very still, trying to calm his racing heart. He could see what Claire could not and knew they were buried by at least twenty or thirty feet of debris. It would take hours for rescuers to find them if they ever did. Shafts of light were coming through, but those would disappear when the sun went down leaving them in complete darkness. Jamie felt a murderous rage boiling in his stomach.

“You fucking bastard,” was whispered through clenched teeth. “I will hunt you right into hell before I give up.”

“Who’s a bastard, who will you hunt, who’s going to hell?”

Claire was patting his arm trying to comfort the rage she felt in his tensed muscles. It scared her because she didn’t know this man. Jamie’s arms encircled her lightly for a few seconds.

“He’s called Casper and he’s a dead man walking because I’m gonna finish him when I find him.”

“Casper? The art thief did this?”

Claire got very quiet for a few minutes before asking, “who are you?”

“Jamie Fraser. I head up the task force trying to catch that piece of shit. Just so you know, we are getting out of here, one way or another, because I won’t let him win.”

He felt Claire shaking and heard her sniffling. He held her, feeling bad because he scared her. He lifted his head to look at her.

“I’m sorry lass, I didn’t mean to scare you. Look at me, Claire.”

Jamie wasn’t expecting the large whisky colored eyes and long black lashes wet from her tears. Her face stole his words for a moment, so he just looked at her. He wanted to touch her porcelain skin and feel the coils of curls that had fallen around her face and shoulders.

“I’m sorry Sassenach, rest now. It won’t be long.”

“Sassenach means crazy bitch, doesn’t it?”

Jamie laughed and Claire bounced on his stomach until she smiled too. “No. It means outsider. You’re a Brit, living in America, trapped in Paris, with a Scott,” he said laughing. He laid his head back down, “tell me about yourself, are you married? Any kids?”

“There is an offer on the table, but I haven’t decided yet. I like him fine but he’s a politician and I’m …not.”

“Tell me more. Why hesitate?”

Claire talked about the senator from Illinois who said he loved her and promised a life of excitement and purpose. Jamie listened to the story of two mismatched people and hoped she would choose herself over a man with plans to change everything about her. She couldn’t see that yet but to him, it was very clear.

“What about you when you’re not chasing a master criminal around the world?”

“I cannot say, it’s been too long. I asked a beautiful girl to marry me once and she said yes but she died in an automobile wreck before the wedding. I haven’t dated since then, about two years now.”

“I’m sorry for your loss Jamie, and if it hurts you, I’m sorry to bring it up.”

“I have never been to Chicago, what is it like?”

The conversation was interesting as they took turns asking questions about the other. Jamie was waiting for some sign, pounding, or yelling, that would indicate workers were close. He heard nothing so far and the light was fading in their rubble pocket. He prayed the night would not be terrifying to the woman on top of him.

“Can you sleep, Claire? I think you should try, it will make the time pass faster. Close your eyes and think about something you do at home for fun, breathe deep, that’s a good lass.”

Jamie could hear Claire’s breathing deepen into her slumber and he closed his eyes hoping to join her. He had a feeling it would be a long night.

Senator Randall was startled by a tap on his shoulder and a note passed to him by his aide. It said Doctor Beauchamp had not gotten off her plane from Paris and was not answering her phone. Frank nodded to the aide and gathered his papers into a case leaving the meeting as quietly as possible. He was calling Claire when the door closed behind him. No answer. Claire was reliable, punctual, predictable, and always called when her plans changed. He felt a nervous twitch in his stomach as his phone vibrated continuously with messages delayed while his phone was turned off. He read through the text messages quickly and was jogging to find his driver and get back to his office.

Claire’s secretary and friend had bombed his phone about an explosion at Sotheby’s, part of the building collapsed, and Claire had not boarded her plane. Frank was feeling a surge of anxiety that was quite unfamiliar and unwanted. He kept his life sterile and empty of drama so he could pursue what made him happy, successful, and energized. He barked at the driver to find a way out of the traffic and back to his office. He couldn’t wait. The laptop lid flipped open and Frank searched for news of the Sotheby bombing. It was all over the internet and the pictures of the damage almost stopped his heart. He started dialing for his aides, giving orders to find her, book a flight to Paris tonight, and get him an emergency number for who was in charge at the auction house. He walked briskly to his office followed by jogging aides handing him notes with flight times, and phone numbers.

“Hello”

“Thank God! Jesus yer hard to find Frank. Ye know whats happened at Sotheby’s. Claire didn’t check-in at the airport, she didn’t return her rental or check out of the hotel. I’m sorry Frank, she is unaccounted for and …”

Frank clicked off of the call when Geillis was mid-sentence. He couldn’t deal with her at the moment, and punched in the numbers to Sotheby’s but couldn’t get through. He assigned two aids to keep calling the emergency number until one of them got a person on the phone.

The sixty-inch television in his office was streaming news of the explosion and the missing Rembrandt painting that was discovered. The explosion was reported as a possible diversion so the thief could get away. One of the aides held her phone out.

“Senator Bradley, sir. He says you won’t answer your own phone and he needs to speak with you.”

“Hello, yes, no I can’t meet tonight, I’m flying to Paris, my girl…” Pausing to listen, “sorry Gary, I can’t, it’s an emergency. No, I won’t be voting tomorrow, I have an emergency, I have to …”

Senator Bradley could be heard from across the room making the aides press into the farthest point in the office to complete their tasks. Frank drew his arm back to throw the phone into the wall and someone shrieked and grabbed her phone away from him. It might cost her job, but this was her brand-new iPhone and no cranky senator was going to smash it to pieces. She headed for the door and disappeared.

“It’s the manager at Sotheby’s, sir. Please don’t break my phone.”

Frank dropped into his chair and reported the news of his missing fiancé, Doctor Claire Beauchamp from the University of Chicago. The manager wanted the name of her rental car company, hotel, and time of day she was last heard from. Frank gave him Geillis’s cell phone number adding she would be the point of contact. Tomorrow would be a ball-breaker and he needed someone attached to their phone in case any news came in.

Hours later, Frank laid in bed in the dark and thought about Claire. So many hours after the explosion and no word from her. He didn’t want to believe it but found little hope she was alive. He closed his eyes.

Claire was shifting her weight trying to get comfortable on the lumpiest mattress ever made. When she moved to her side Jamie’s eyes slammed opened and he groaned loudly from her hip crushing his balls. He lifted her hip and moved her over three inches letting his hands rest on her hip and leg. The dress she wore was knit and very soft. It had pulled up above her knee so Jamie pulled it back down.

He didn’t know Claire, and would never see her again once they were free, but he did not like hearing about her fiancé and that made him feel weird. He closed his eyes again.

“Jesus Christ! What is that?”

Jamie was yanked to the surface of consciousness by a loud and panicked voice coming from a wiggling woman trying to move up his body. His arms came around her and he shushed her, asking what was wrong.

“Something crawled up my leg and it had sharp claws, small sharp claws. I need to sit on your chest.”

Jamie grunted and held her still while he talked her down from another panic. He had worried about rats in the building being attracted to their smell. He told Claire to breathe with him while he stroked her hair in the pitch darkness. She had wiggled up toward his head and now her cheek was pressed against his, her mouth only inches from his. He could feel her relaxing and truly hoped for no more surprises tonight. He fell asleep with his arms around Claire.

Jamie opened his eyes when the noise of pounding pulled him back to consciousness. He felt Claire pressed against him, their faces touching, and the morning erection that threatened what little dignity he had left. He willed it away, quite unsuccessfully. The banging started again and he smiled to himself, it won’t be long before they are back on their feet, he thought. The pounding gave way to ripping metal and the distinct sound of a backhoe.

Claire moaned and moved to her stomach, rolling her face so her mouth was smashed against Jamie’s. He didn’t want to breathe for fear she would wake up and take her lips away. The noise from moving heavy debris got louder and the light from the new day flooded their pocket. Claire opened her eyes and screamed, pushing away from Jamie and hitting her head hard.

“What the bloody hell!”

“I’ll have you know madam that you accosted me just now, taking advantage of my inability to move and get away. This assault comes after you nearly strangled me getting away from a mouse.”

Claire rubbed her head and looked at the most beautiful face she had ever seen on a man. He could be a movie star with looks like that, she thought. Jamie was trying to look indignant but started to chuckle when her mouth turned into a smile. She looked adorable with a mass of curls pouring over her face as she felt for a bump on her head.

“Do you need me to rub it for you?”

The laugh that followed was genuine, feminine, and he loved hearing it.

“I’ll let you know if I want you to rub it.”

She laid her head on his chest and listened to the cavalry above them. “Sounds like they are making progress Jamie. I think you will soon be free of me.”

“Let’s hope it’s before I die of dehydration. I have never felt thirst like this in my life.”

With nothing to do but wait for the rescuers, they dozed and tried not to move too much. Through the early morning, the efforts above them intensified. The crew boss called a halt to the noise so they could get a radar fix on the heartbeats again. The radar technician moved his finger in a circle above their location and the infrared tech nodded his agreement. The noise continued.

“Jamie?”

“Yes, Sassenach.”

“What is the first thing you want to do when we’re rescued?”

“Drink like an elephant.”

“How is that?”

“Someone hands them a hose and they use their trunk to place it in their mouth. An hour or so later, the elephant pulls it out.”

“I’m quite sure you made that up but it’s still funny.”

“It’s God’s truth, I swear. Next, I will jump into the hotel pool until my body temperature comes back to normal. You laying on me is like a giant quilt heating me through for the last twenty hours or so. What about you Sassenach?”

“I’m down for the elephant thing, and a bubble bath, while I pray there are no flights to Chicago today. I want to lose myself in the Louvre.”

“Your list is impressive but surely a phone call to the senator will be done first, even before you put the hose in your mouth?”

Claire was giggling at Jamie’s charm, “of course, the senator, and then the hose.”

“Your dress is so soft, I woke up petting it like a rabbit in the middle of the night.” Jamie ran his hands down her back for effect and then instantly dropped them to his sides while Claire laughed. He just wanted to make her laugh until they took her away from him forever.

“Don’t move Sassenach!”

“Why? Is something crawling on me?”

Jamie grunted when her knee made contact with his balls as she twisted to look for a bug, or worse.

“No, it’s a phone call is all.”

Jamie reached up and pulled a phone to his ear. He spoke to the rescue worker and described how they were trapped. The phone was then pulled upward through the remaining debris until it was out of sight.

“Wow, how do they know exactly where we are?”

Jamie watched her childlike wonder and smiled at her until the dangling section of wall that had been directly above his throat dropped onto the cinder block making a deafening noise. Claire screamed and held onto Jamie tightly. She buried her face in his chest and cried until he could calm her down again. Claire felt his hand stroking her hair, and his arm around her waist. It was so foreign to be held this way and she didn’t want it to stop but could not force more tears, so he let her go. Jamie smiled encouragingly at her and pointed to the crushed cinder block.

“You see, you saved my life. That means you’re responsible for me forever.”

“Wait. If I saved you, that means you owe me a life, I think.”

“Anybody’s life?”

“I’m not quite sure about that. Maybe it’s like a debt that is paid by saving my life.”

Jamie took a chance and twisted his body and hers until they were lying side by side looking at the other.

“I don’t imagine a professor of fine arts and future first lady of the United States finds her life in peril much. But if you did, I will be the first one there Claire.”

She looked so innocent and beautiful looking at him. He seized her mouth and gorged himself on the beautiful professor. She turned her head for better access to his lips and he felt the exhilaration of her interest, however brief it would be. Aside from inhalation, the kiss continued until a large section that had them pinned was ripped away.

Claire sat up smiling at the men that surrounded them about ten feet up. She waved and stretched her back. A harness was lowered, held still by the men until she was safely in it. She pulled her briefcase strap over her head and was lifted through the debris to safety. Jamie watched her legs until she was pulled from his view.

Jamie looked up at the men, “any of the art stolen yesterday?”

“One small painting is all,” said with a heavy accent.

His stomach suddenly felt like a rock grinder. He asked the man, “quelle peinture?” The man shrugged his shoulders and looked around at the other workers until someone yelled “Rembrandt”. The sling was lowered again and Jamie was tempted to wrap it around his neck, but then Casper would win. He buckled himself into the harness.

Claire was loaded into an ambulance and whisked off to the nearest hospital. She gripped her briefcase and tried to calm her sense of shock at being thrust back into normality and away from Jamie. The EMT bent the straw top of a bottle of water and placed it in her mouth. She pulled the cool water into her mouth and thought about the elephants.

Claire was released by nine in the morning and now sat on her hotel bed with the phone in her hand.

“Sweet heavens, I am glad to talk to ye Claire, I haven’t slept a wink!”

“You are such a good friend Geillis. I tried to call Frank but his phone is off. Is he on his way to Paris?”

“No, he tried to leave last night but there’s an important vote today, it couldn’t be missed. What do ye need me to do? I already checked flights and they are booked today and tomorrow, even first class. I booked ye on United, leaving Paris at ten in the morning on Friday. All your appointments are canceled because ye were missin from a building that was bombed and I dinna ken if you were dead or alive.”

Geillis sobbed through the last part of the sentence and continued to cry until Claire calmed her down.

“I have quite the war story from the experience. I spent almost twenty-four hours laying on top of a giant Scot with a gorgeous face and bulging muscles.”

Claire giggled at Geillis’s reaction, knowing her friend would find that part of the tragedy delicious. After the call, Claire pulled her filthy clothes off and dropped them in the wastebasket. Flipping the security bar on the door meant she would be undisturbed while she scrubbed the dirt away. Sinking into the hot fragrant bubbles, she exhaled and thought about the rest of her day. She would meet with her client later and conclude their business and then tomorrow was all for her. The silver-lining as it were.

The exquisite bed in Claire’s room was so expansive one might miss the 8x12 inch Rembrandt in the center. Soon it would be handed over to the client in exchange for a deed to an Italian property valued at three million dollars. All in a day’s work.

[that-good-trash]

I’m Not Okay- Chapter Two Midoriya x Reader/Bakugou x Reader

Izuku Midoriya x reader/ Katsuki Bakugou x reader

Summary: You have struggled with mental health your whole life so why can’t you seem to get it under control. Will you be able to keep the same mask even though two of your classmates have seen under it?

Warnings: Depression, Angst, Anxiety.

Word Count: 4,247

Comment: Thank you all for reading the first chapter! I tried to get the second chapter written as fast as possible. I’m so happy that the first chapter was well liked. Enjoy part two, I’ll try to get part three done as soon as possible. 

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Morning wasn’t the worst part of the day it just was never better than okay. You didn’t experience the same euphoria as some of your morning classmates like Tenya Iida, Yuga Aoyama, and Koji Koda. Iida gets up early to set an example, to make sure everyone gets to class, and to better sell himself as the proper class representative he is. Aoyama needs time to get ready for the day since he had a routine to look as gorgeous as he does. You remember one time that you had gotten up early to turn in an assignment that was late before class and Aoyama was doing his lashes in the large mirror in the living area. There was a silent understanding before you had left the flamboyant male alone. Koda got up with the birds speaking gently with them, saying little good mornings to them as the sun rose. You almost wish that you had the same kind of drive they had. Maybe if you got up early you could face your problems then and feel better later. It seemed like it would work but you knew all to well that you couldn’t sleep your problems away and you couldn’t wake up before them.

“Maybe if I just didn’t wake up.” You spoke to the girl in the mirror. She stared back with dark circles that would need to be hidden before going to class. She was losing color to her cheeks and her hair was unruly. The worst part about this girl wasn’t her physical appearance. It was the raw emotion in her eyes, the exhaustion that urged some other worldly being to come end all this suffering. The girl in the mirror was crying causing your hand to reach up and catch the tears off your cheeks before they could fall. You and the girl in the mirror had everything in common except when she wasn’t visible, when you weren’t in your room or near a reflective surface she didn’t exist, she didn’t feel pain or sadness, yet you did. You felt every painful breath, every break in your facade.

You had wondered before had it always been this hard to breathe, to exist, to wake up. You were finding that the answer was inconclusive. It was hard before; it’s just getting worse.

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“Y/N!” Mina’s voice loudly cut through any thoughts swarming you as you pushed your breakfast around on your plate. You weren’t going to make yourself food but when you came downstairs there was a plate already waiting for you and you knew exactly who made it, Midoriya.

“What’s up?” You could never fake a smile at the alien featured girl. She was all the pep and excitement that you wish you could show, that you wish you had in you. Instead you relish in her cheerful disposition happy that you are able to at least do that. Your smile makes her own stretch wider and shine brighter. A squeal leaves her before you are enveloped into a hug. Shock isn’t exactly how you feel. More like slightly puzzled at the abruptness of her physical contact. You lean into the hug cherishing the skin to skin contact and you are almost disappointed when she pulls away. You hear Kaminari wolf whistle at the two of you causing you both to roll your eyes.

“I missed you girl! I barely survived yesterday with you gone. I tried asking what happened but just got told that you weren’t feeling good and then you didn’t even come down for dinner last night. You didn’t answer my texts either. I was so worried but you just smiled at me and.” A squeal leaves her lips again before she’s squishing your face between her hands.

“And your just so cute and it made everything better. You are okay right.” She’s still got your face between her hands when she asks the taboo question. The one that seems to always get the same response from you. How easy would it be to just say you weren’t okay? She would understand, right? But what if she didn’t. what if she found you gross or hated you for being broken? Children don’t like broken toys so you weren’t very liked as a kid but does that same feeling extend into teenagers. Would she still hug you and love you as a sobbing mess? The answer was simple and obvious but you couldn’t risk the minuscule chance of losing your best friend so you lied.

“I’m good.” I’m okay, I’m fine, I’m alright. It was all the same thing just a different word each time. A smile helped serve the words with false honesty.

“Well if you say so. If you need me, I am here for you.” Your teeth bite down on the inside of your cheek to prevent yourself from crying. You searched her expression but found nothing but love and admiration for you. She kissed your cheek before running off to bother Kaminari and Sero as they left on their journey to class. Your fingers brushed across the warm spot she kissed and a genuine smile appeared. Your heart felt like it was pumping normal and you could breathe. It was a temporary state but you’d take anything at this point.

“Time to get to class everyone.” The class rep’s voice cut through the remaining chatter and like a sheep dog started herding them all out. You stood up sliding the cold food into the trash. You felt bad for wasting it but you had never asked for it to begin with. As you moved to join the stragglers a hand grabbed your wrist pulling you back into the seat you had previously been occupying. You could feel the heat from his skin before you saw his face. Bakugou was squatting in front of you with your leg in his hands.

“Um, Bakugou. What are you do-?”

“Shut up. You never came by my room so I assumed you got raccoon eyes to bandage your leg. You tried to do it yourself and it looks like shit.” You would have been sarcastic but you once again lacked your usual spirit. Bakugou looked up waiting for the old you to resurface. He sighed while unwrapping the bandaging. You went to say something, anything at this point to break the weird tension and silence but instead a hiss escaped at his rough pull of the bandage as he finished wrapping your knee. You couldn’t help smacking him.

“The hell Bakugou, that hurt!” Bakugou rubbed the spot you had just hit him snarling before looking at you with intense yet playful eyes.

“You gonna whine like a bitch or you gonna go to class.” He was fast to dodge your second attack and you huffed before grabbing your bag and storming off ahead of him. He followed you with a smirk on his face. It wasn’t much but he got you to react. To show some kind of emotion that wasn’t sorrow or emptiness.  

“What the hell were you eating this morning. I was going to tell you to stop playing with it but I got closer and thought something died on your plate.” You had to cover you face when you snorted at the sheer abruptness of his comedic insult to Midoriya’s cooking. You knew that he had to know that Midoriya had made it since Bakugou was the king of waking up early. You had reached over to shove him but never made contact, he moved away from you. “Tomorrow you will eat breakfast. I always have extra so you can have it.”

“Bakugou. I can’t just take your food.” Your voice is small. One minute you had been stifling laughter and now you felt ashamed that he even felt obligated to feed you. You were starting to feel like a charity case. A gasp erupted when Bakugou blasted part of a metal beam you passed. He didn’t face you but you could tell he was irritated.

“Listen up extra, I don’t do hand outs or fucking charity. I offered you the damn food and your gonna take it. You insult me taking that shitty nerd’s food but turning your nose before you even get to try mine. I’ll force the damn crap down your throat.” You couldn’t figure him out, he was mean one second then trying to be considerate? Nice? He was trying to be something other than his over the top aggressive self even if his kindness still was yelled with profanities.

“So. You admit your food is crap.” Of all the things you could have responded with. You could have cried because he was trying to care or cried because he was overbearing. You could have not responded. Yet you felt the flicker, the embers of your former attitude were still burning just low. They needed fuel and fanning and Bakugou was giving you kerosene. His red eyes were wide at the smirk across your still dry lips. The way that he could slightly see your teeth as if you were ready to cackle like an idiot at your own retort. He raised his hand to spark another blast but both of you were stopped by a too familiar voice.

“Both of you are late to class.” The words were laced with exhaustion and you could see the dark bags under his eyes before you even looked at him, Mr. Aizawa. You nodded and Bakugou scoffed before the two of you followed the hero into the classroom.

You hated being the center of attention, which is why you typically walk into places under the cover of your friends. Right now, everyone was staring at you, there eyes shifting between you and the class asshole. Bakugou paid them no attention and sat down. You felt like you couldn’t move. There were questions and speculations about why you were late, why you came in late with Bakugou. Midoriya made concerned eye contact with you before you shifted your gaze back to the floor and sat at your desk. Your hands fumbled with taking out the necessary supplies and a slight yelp accidently escaped when a hand placed itself on your shoulder.

“Um, you dropped this.” Todoroki handed you back your eraser that had escaped your bag without your knowledge. Your cheeks flushed at the state you were in. The frantic and anxious behavior you showed him made you feel like a maniac.

“Thank you.” His fingers were cold against yours as he pushed the eraser into your hand. You pulled your hand back and hoped he didn’t think rude of you for doing so. He just blinked before turning his attention back to the board. To anyone watching they’d have thought you had a crush on him with how your cheeks were pink and how fast you were to avoid contact. You didn’t though. Your avoidance was a precaution. You already had two students that were getting close to your issues. You didn’t need Todoroki involved as well. Your pencil moves across the paper in front of you while two pair of eyes watch you with different emotions. Red eyes with a glint of anger at Todoroki touching your hand. He was already irritated that Midoriya was getting close to you, there was no way in hell he wanted ‘icy hot’ involved with you. Green eyes watched you waiting for another sign of pain. He was waiting for even the slightest glossiness and he would be there at your side offering you a handkerchief and his shoulder. After you ran away, he wanted so badly to show you that he was sorry and that he cared.

 ----------------------------------

If there was a class you could skip today it would be lunch. While every other student seemed to be enjoying this breaktime between learning and training, you felt that pressure again. Your legs had stopped moving and this time you had to grab the wall for support. There were so many people going in and out of the cafeteria. A few of them gave you strange looks but you didn’t care. You closed your eyes trying to figure out how to stop the rush of dizziness that came over you. You wanted to be able to breathe but found yourself holding back doing so. You were literally causing yourself pain and were beginning to feel faint. Mina was already inside the cafeteria sitting with a group of classmates. You didn’t know who it was today but probably Kaminari and Sero, or maybe it was Jirou and Yaoyorozu. Regardless of who she was sitting with today you couldn’t be one of them. You couldn’t sit there and listen absentmindedly to conversations you had no interest in. It wasn’t that you were a bitch who didn’t care, even though it sometimes came off like that. You just couldn’t fake it today. You wanted to go to Mr. Aizawa and be dismissed for the day but he would just send you to Recovery Girl and you didn’t want to do that all over again.  

“You don’t have to go inside if you don’t want to.” You hadn’t even noticed Midoriya walk up to you until his voice drown out the ones inside you head.

“I was gonna go in. I was just waiting and.” You couldn’t figure out a good enough lie but realized you didn’t need to lie. Midoriya was staring at you with his big kind eyes that spoke. His eyes told you that it was okay to be upset. “I actually don’t want to eat in the cafeteria. I really don’t feel like eating at all.”

You rubbed your arm the same way you had when he had first caught you the day prior. No eye contact because you knew that the second sentence you had said was concerning, especially since he was assigned to be your personal nutritionist. You waited for him to speak or attempt to comfort you but no words were spoken. Instead your wrist was gripped and your legs were once again moving along with his. Panic began to settle into your chest and head. Was he going to take you to Recovery Girl? Was he going to take you to Mr. Aizawa? Neither of those options came true. Instead you found yourself outside a staff room that, once the door was open, you found was empty.

“Um Midoriya. I don’t think we are allowed in here.” You cautiously followed him into the room waiting for a teacher to catch you both. Though you’d be lying if you said this wasn’t cool to be in a room that students couldn’t just barge into.

“I have permission from All Might to eat lunch in here. Usually I eat with him but he has a meeting and I’d rather eat with you.” To anyone the words I’d rather eat with you would be some lame pick up line, however with Midoriya they meant something different. The romantic/deep part of his sentence was that he chose you over his idol. Your chest tightened in a way that you were unfamiliar with. There was no pain or feeling of panic. Just a sense of mattering. You had felt something almost similar when you were bickering playfully with Bakugou that morning.

“Also, um you can call me Izuku or deku.” You look up and realize you are standing awkwardly in the doorway still. You move allowing the door to close before sitting on the couch across from Midoriya.

“Okay, Izuku.” Even though he had told you to call him by his first name it didn’t prepare him for how it would sound coming from your mouth. He covered his face trying to hide the flushing of his cheeks. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, just wasn’t expecting you to use it so soon.” A smile spread across your face at his shy behavior. “Are you really not gonna eat?”

“I don’t feel like eating.” You sounded like you had some kind of eating disorder but you didn’t. You just felt like you wasted energy that you already lacked on something minor. Your stomach did groan against your hand that you had placed against it in order to muffle the sound. After your failed attempt at silencing your hunger the sound of something being pushed across the table toward you caught your attention. It was a prepackaged sandwich, simple and plain yet so enticing.

“I’m not going to pry but I think you should eat. We have training later and I don’t want you getting hurt. You don’t have to worry about the taste either. I didn’t make it.” Midoriya laughed after mentioning his inability to cook. You almost felt bad since you had thrown away the breakfast he made.

“I’ll eat it, but because you asked me too and I can’t say no to my personal nurse.” The first part of your sentence got him blushing again but by the end he was flushed from embarrassment. Midoriya eats his lunch while you unwrap the sandwich and take a bite. It is dry and doesn’t have much flavor and yet you have to hold back not devouring it. You hadn’t realized how hungry you were till now. A few crumbs fall onto your lap so you brush them off as you push the last bite into your mouth. You look up while chewing and see Midoriya staring at you. He doesn’t look away and you both make silent eye contact.

“Why do you look so sad?” His voice is barely above a whisper and you almost didn’t hear him, almost.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Yes, you do. Yesterday you were crying, you looked so tired, you still look tired and like you’re ready to cry. You seemed scared when Recovery Girl questioned you. I don’t know what you are going through but you don’t have to do it al-”

“Don’t. Please don’t say it. I’ve heard it so many times that I just might lose it if I have to hear it from you.” You don’t mean to sound rude and you probably don’t. You just didn’t need this right now. Lunch was finally going well, you had eaten and got to enjoy the silence. Midoriya meant well but you couldn’t let him in now. He was already in deeper than he should be. However, despite wanting him to stop you were once again contemplating what could happen if you told him. Just like you had wondered about Mina you wondered what he would do. He wasn’t judging you and yet you couldn’t help feeling like he was. The demons whispered their tormenting words invoking your insecurities. This was no longer a lunch between friends. You felt trapped, a cornered animal afraid of capture even if it meant a better life.

“Y/n. I’m sorry if I’ve upset you again. That isn’t my intention. I want you to trust and rely on me. I want you to be able to tell me what’s wrong. It might help.” The way your head swung upward made him regret pushing you. You stood up on shaking legs and slammed your hands down on the table.

“I DIDN’T ASK FOR YOUR HELP! YOU DON’T KNOW WHAT I’M GOING THROUGH SO STOP TRYING TO ‘FIX ME’!” The words aren’t necessarily yelled but are spoken in a harsh booming voice that has cracks in it. The words lash against Midoriya as if you had physically hit him. He doesn’t flinch but does back into the couch to avoid some saliva that flies out with your words. He knows that once again he has messed up but he also knows that you didn’t want to push him away. In spite of all that was yelled he could see in your eyes, the regret and agony you felt. He didn’t pursue you as you fled the room knowing that you needed time. He would see you in class later hopefully.

Running away has become a regular occurrence. If only you got graded on running away, then you wouldn’t have to worry about grades ever again. The weird thing about this new hobby of yours was that you didn’t do it before. It was new and strange. You never liked facing issues before but you never really had to. Before you just lived in harmony with your anxiety and depression. You could cry and then go and hang out with classmates like it was a casual routine. Now you were afraid to be around people with how unstable you had become. You knew you could only run for so long before you had to return and play hero with the rest of the class.

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

“Where were you during lunch?” Mina had asked seeing as no one else seemed comfortable with asking. You were MIA during lunch and completely checked out during the last few classes. Now you were changing into your gym uniform with the rest of the girls.

“I was with Midoriya.” It was a mistake to mention Midoriya because the girls weren’t actually listening to you and Mina before and yet now all eyes and ears were on you. Jirou lifted an ear jack in your direction while Yaoyorozu stared at you with a curious smirk. You could have sworn Uraraka looked at you with slight pain, or maybe jealousy?

“OoOoooOh, what were you doing with Midoriya?” Mina meant well with her waggling eyebrows and kissy faces. You push her face away. Even though you had a mental breakdown earlier Mina still found a way to make you smile.

“I was eating lunch. He thought I could use some alone time since I’ve been kind of tired and being around you guys is draining.” Mina gasps at your comment about her being draining and feigns offence. “I am not draining.”

“So, you were alone with Midoriya during lunch?” You don’t catch who asks the question jut that it was asked. You sigh wishing that humans weren’t naturally curious and that teens weren’t always looking for gossip. You don’t reply, which looks even more suspicious, as you leave the locker room.

Everyone is paired up with someone to spar with. You see Mina wave from her spot across from Tokoyami beyond her you can see Midoriya with Kirishima across from him. He doesn’t look this way and you wonder if what you said hurt him. You wonder if he will begin to hate you. You look around to see of you can spot Bakugou, your hand reaching down and rubbing your bandage through your pants. You turn when your name leaves your sparing partners lips.

“Sorry Todoroki. I’m ready whenever you are.” You get into a fighting stance and wave him forward beckoning him to attack. His expression never changes as ice dances across his skin and slowly spreads around him. You shouldn’t have underestimated his abilities nor should you have let yourself fight while dehydrated.

You wouldn’t say that you were hurt enough to go to Recovery Girls office however you did find yourself stumbling into the locker room shower. Once you shed your uniform the bruises on your body become visible to you. You whimper as your fingers press into the tender wounds. You let the shame and sweat rinse off you before you slowly sink.  Sob escapes as you curl up on the floor. The locker room is empty and has been for a while. You had laid on the floor of the gym defeated for longer than you had meant to. Todoroki had originally tried to help you up but you wouldn’t move. Just lying there pathetically wallowing in your own failures. It was a simple match and yet you never landed a single hit and your dodging was useless. Your failure to match Todoroki’s strength lead to you sobbing on the dirty shower floor naked and bruised not just physically but your ego as well. You had assumed everyone had left back to the dorms or to go about their day like normal but you were wrong. Someone had noticed your absence, actually that person had witnessed your distracted fight and wanted to beat the living hell out of Todoroki for going so hard on you and not noticing you weren’t in a good state to fight. This person also watched you drag yourself to the locker room. He waited to make sure no one else was around before following the sounds of your sobbing. The steam covered every mirror blurring his image as he passed them to get to the stall you were breaking down in. He leaned against the wet tile wall. He let himself slide down until he was squatting, his knees jutted outward and his arms laying inward against his thighs between his legs. He moves his left hand toward the curtain making himself known.

“You’re not alone dumbass… It’s okay to not win every battle. It’s okay to not be okay.” These words coming from the most prideful guy you’ve met made your chest tighten. He was the last person you’d expect to be outside your shower while you broke down. He was the last person you’d expect to tell you that you didn’t need to win. Yet here he was saying this and being here for you. You try to hold back another sob but fail. Your hand reaches under the curtain and your fingers entangle themselves with his as you continue to weep against the cold tile.

[xxisxxisxxis]

Gateway Drug | Part Seventy-Eight

Words: 3k

Warning(s): explicit language, violence, substance abuse

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"H-Hi." Deana tries to keep her composure upon the sight of Nikki freshly off-stage. 

He looks more pale than he was before heading to play, his sweat cloaked body shaking slightly. 

His mother, her dark hair curled and bright red lips tugging into a sappy smile as tears bubble in her eyes.

Even without probably knowing the whole story, Axl and the guys know Nikki doesn't have a relationship with his mom, and the nightmare about to take place has them slowly leaning against the wall of the hallway, quietly looking down, uncomfortable with getting caught in the middle of this. 

"What are you doing here?" Nikki asks, confused, more than likely questioning if its a hallucination from mixing too many drugs or not. 

"I made the arrangement." Doc states chipperly, stupidly thinking Nikki would be happy. "An early Christmas present." He adds. 

"I wanted to see you," She tells her son, taking a few steps closer, "I wanted to see both of you...I've already missed out on so much." She explains, looking at me. "I-I know the timing is off, but I really wanted to talk to you." 

"No, the timing isn't off--" I try to assure her. 

"--Don't waste your breath, Viv, she's just gonna ask for money and then disappear for another ten years." Nikki scoffs, brushing past her. 

"Frank--"

"--That's not my name." He snaps to her. 

"It's the name on your birth certificate, Frankie. Frank Ferana. It might not be as glamorous as 'Nikki Sixx' but--" 

"--It's Nikki. Legally. It's Sixx. Legally. It's her last name. Legally." He refers to me and she clenches her jaw. "And any kids I have are gonna have that last name. Legally. I'm not 'Frank', or 'Frankie', and I'm certainly not a fucking 'Ferana' so don't even start that shit."

"You're still my baby." She tells him, trying not to cry. "I came all this way to see you." She adds, wrapping her arms around him. 

I see the glimmer of a little boy in his eyes, for a split second, then it's quickly pushed aside and replaced with that of an angry, abused, hurt, scorned, abandoned dog. 

And he's going for the throat in a moment the second she says:

"Oh, my Frankie." 

He's shoving her off of him so hard she nearly goes to the floor. 

"That's not my fucking name!" He screams at her, throwing his bottle of Jack at the ground at her heeled-boot covered feet. 

He's storming off, Doc following after him, and Fred takes a breath and goes to Deana, to politely usher her out. 

"That's fucked." Izzy mumbles, shaking his head slightly, going to their dressing room and I walk behind them. 

"Nikki--"

"--Who the fuck do you think you are?! Huh?! Who the hell are you to bring my personal life front and center for every God damn body to see?!" 

"I didn't realize you and your mother weren't on good terms." Doc tells him, honestly. 

"You think I'm this fucked up for the hell of it?! You think I'm this way after growing up with parents who gave a shit?! Really?!" Nikki laughs humorlessly.

"Nikki, I'm sorry, alright?" 

"No, you're not, you don't give a shit and you never have, you're just another greedy fuck getting his rocks off from the money in my pocket but I'm done!" He yells, turning to walk away. "You don't know what's fucking best for me, you don't care about me, you don't care about the band, you're not my fucking father and you sure as shit aren't my manager anymore so just go get fucked, Doc, you're fucking fired!" He calls. 

"You're not fired." I assure Doc, wanting to go after him, but not able to bring myself to. 

He doesn't want to talk to me about it. 

I am surprised to see Axl rub his forehead and roll his jaw before stalking past me, Nikki's way. 

"Where you going?" I ask him. 

"I fucking hate my mom." Is all he says as he goes by. 

I didn't know what exact issue Axl had with his own mother, but I'd later find out it was because her horrible judgment in men and what abuse she'd allow him and his siblings to endure from those men, along with her forceful hand in religion that she and Axl's stepfather enforced brutally on their kids.

"Did Doc really not mean to set that up?" Steven asks me when I get into their dressing room. 

"No, he didn't." I reply. 

"Is Nikki gonna be okay?" Tansy asks quietly. 

"I don't know, Tansy." I roll my eyes and she furrows her brows, slightly. 

"Do you even care?" She asks me and I look at her. 

"Tans--" Duff starts. 

"--No, I mean, really, Vivian. Do you even care?" She cuts him off. 

"Excuse me?" I ask, practically seeing the dullness in her eyes of a mixed-drug high.

Without a doubt coke and smack.

"Of course I care, Tansy. Just because he and I are separated doesn't mean I want him to suffer."

"Way to take one for the team by sleeping with Duff, then, because surely that is the one thing that has to be done to prevent Nikki's suffering." She states. 

"What I do and who I do it with is my business, Tansy." I tell her, crossing my arms. 

"Sure doesn't sound that way when everybody on the same floor as you can hear nothing but, 'ahh, ahh, Duff, ahh!'" She mimics moaning. 

"Maybe I'm staying under Duff so much because if I don't, you'll take it as an open invitation, and there really are some people you don't have to try to sleep with mandatorily based on their wallet size, Tansy." 

"Just like there are some people you don't have to sleep with based on whether or not they're gonna be big rockstars or not." She shoots back. 

"Wanna be the pot or the kettle?" I ask. 

"I want you to stop adding fuel to the fire and then acting like your hands are clean while smiting all of us." She outbursts. 

"Smite you for adding to his problems? Offering him drugs when he's already going down hill? Letting him think screwing another woman is okay--not even screwing her, having an entire relationship with her." I correct myself. 

"Given the circumstances of your marriage, he needed an escape." She says next. 

"Given the circumstances of your new-found smack-induced courage, you act like you need my fist to knock your teeth out." 

"Viv--"

"--Then you'll really be laying on your back to get work." 

"But at least I do work. What do you do? Aside from spend Nikki's money and sleep with his friends?" 

"I'm not killing him like you and Sparkie have been with your junkie bullshit." I manage to keep myself from having an outburst, more concerned with Nikki's crisis with his mom. 

"Not yet, at least." She mumbles as I'm walking out. 

"Where you guys going?" Tommy asks as we head to leave for the bus. 

"Um… about to pack our stuff up and head out?" Izzy replies.

"No, no, no, just because Nikki's parade's been pissed on doesn't mean ours has to be." Tommy suggests to them. 

"Yeah, c'mon it's our last night hangin' out for a while." Vince points out, two groupies already under each arm. 

"I was gonna check on Sixx." Slash explains. 

"I'm fine." Nikki shows up, his hands on Slash's shoulders, tightly in an aggravating manner, making Slash chuckle as he twists away from him. 

Axl isn't far behind, he and Izzy looking at the invitation to hangout with the guys one last time on this tour, hesitantly. 

"What the hell," Izzy shrugs. 

"So glad you said that, man, because we have a special surprise." Nikki grins, beckoning them with his finger. 

"Stevie, c'mon!" Duff exclaims from behind me, Steven exiting their dressing room with Tansy behind him. 

"You good?" He asks Nikki. 

"Yeah." Nikki assures him. "I have a present." He adds, leading the guys to the double doors of what I assume is a bigger room. 

Sure enough, he opens the door, and at least ten girls are lined up, naked, asses up, thick lines of coke down their spines. 

Nausea nestles it's way into my stomach, but Tommy, Vince and Nikki look as if this is their promised land. 

Even Steven looks slightly off-put by the brazen display. 

Complete disinterest cascades off of Duff, a heavy puff of cigarette smoke leaving his nostrils with the huff of his unamused breath. 

"Who's first?" Nikki asks. 

Naturally, the guys look to their "leader," and Axl reluctantly rolls his eyes and walks over to the first girl. 

It's like he refuses to acknowledge she's naked, his main focus is the line of coke on her back. 

He snorts one-eighth of the line before deciding that's enough. 

I don't blame him--the way his fingers hold at the bridge of his nose makes me wince because I know it probably burns like a bitch. 

"Boo!" Tommy disappointedly calls to Axl as he walks out. 

He's had his party. 

Izzy follows. 

"More for us." Nikki shrugs, smirking. 

He looks at me directly in the eyes, heavy black liner sharpening the contrast of his hazel eyes as he keeps my gaze, spitefully unbuckling his belt and he starts unlacing his pants, making his way to the girl Axl was at earlier. 

He is not…

Duff's snatching me out of the room only milliseconds before Nikki enters the girl in sync with snorting the line up her skin.

That was that.

It's a bittersweet draw to an end, "thank you" and "damn, I'm gonna miss you" seeming to be on everyone's lips as hugs and high-fives go around between all the boys once we get back to L.A.

I rub my lips together and smile softly as I hand Fred my purse to put in the car, sighing softly, smiling when he looks down at me. 

"See ya later, kid." He tells me and tears swell in my eyes as I wrap hug him tightly, taking him off guard a little. "Don't kill each other...not even over that dumb shit he pulled tonight." He says, referring to the groupie cocaine platter. 

"I'll try." I mumble, wiping my eyes quickly before stepping up to say bye to the guys. 

Steven and Slash are pretty easy, but Axl just stares at me for a moment before reluctantly wrapping his arms around me and hugging me tightly. 

"I'm sorry I was an asshole this entire trip." He mumbles lowly in my ear. 

"I'm sorry I almost got you kicked off." I reply in the same low tone. 

"You're one of the reasons they took us in the first place." He states, pulling away to look at me, cupping my face in his hands, grinning. "You're gonna keep up my lie that we're siblings, right?" He asks and I chuckle. 

"You guys are gonna make it big and I need a meal ticket so of course." I shrug and his smile grows wider. "I love you." I tell him. 

"I love you, too." He assures me, kissing me on the cheek, giving me one last squeezing hug before heading to their bus. 

Izzy looks at me for a moment. 

"Izzy." I say to him. 

"Viv." He acknowledges me and steps to the bus. 

Just before Duff can tell me 'bye', arms are locking around my waist, and pulling me against the person they belong to. 

"Izzy?" I ask after a moment. 

"We're not friends." He says, pulling away to leave, leaving me and Duff. 

"Um, I'll see you later?" I offer and he rubs his lips together, his eyes over my shoulder, and I look to see Nikki and a woman that we'd picked up from the airport, getting into the car. 

I turn back to face Duff, biting my tongue to keep my tears back. 

"You can stay with me tonight." Duff offers. 

"Really?" 

He just smiles down at me. 

I inhale the familiarly comforting scent of cigarette smoke as we walk into Duff's apartment, dropping my bags and running to the bedroom, face planting into the mattress, exhausted. 

The weight of Duff's body laying on top of me making me laugh, his own chuckle further making me grin. 

"I'm so tired." I tell him.

"Me too." He replies, and I turn over underneath him, wrinkling my nose.

"You stink." I say. 

"I think I smell pretty sexy." He grins, teasingly. 

"No." I shake my head a little, scrunching my face to my shoulder when he tries to kiss my neck. "Go shower." I giggle when he tries again. 

"Come shower with me." He counters. 

"I don't feel like it and I don't stink, so--ew, Duff!" I squeal as he takes his shirt off that reeks of sweat and rubs it all over my face and hair. 

"What about now?" He asks and I pick up the pillow above my head and start hitting at him with it.

After a few hits are gotten in, he's getting off the bed, stretching. 

"You coming?" He asks when he walks to the bathroom. 

"I guess." I reply, following after him. 

Once I get out and have one of Duff's shirts on, I go to the kitchen to grab some water before bed, the quietness of the apartment allowing different thoughts to invade my mind. 

I can't help but wonder what Nikki's doing. Is he high? Is he drunk? Is he even still alive? They leave in a few days for Japan but I honestly don't believe they should go. They need help. 

I think at this moment everyone's just trying to see if they can get away with pressing at them a little more without anybody snapping. 

But by the looks of it, Nikki is pretty damn close to snapping, and Tommy anf Vince and Mick aren't far behind at all. 

Nikki. 

My heart tightens in my chest, remembering last Christmas, how he sat curled under our tree, shooting up. 

He'd get strung out, then lay underneath the tree and stare up at the lights for hours. 

"Are we gonna buy a Christmas  tree?" I ask, looking at the empty living area. 

"If you want to." He calls to me from the bedroom.

"I want to." I reply, going into the room and getting in bed while he follows. 

"Yeah?" 

"Yeah. You know, homey-ness and stuff." I add. "Especially if I'm gonna be here longer." I add and he falls beside me. 

"I'll get a tree tomorrow." He assures me, kissing me chastely before yawning and getting comfortable, and I turn off the lamp and lay down, too. 

He goes to sleep in no time, but two hours later, in the early hours of morning, I smile to myself in the dark room, Christmas lights from the street shining into the window, lighting up the room and cascading a comforting dim light over Duff's sleeping body next to me. 

Reaching over, I run my fingertips softly against his cheek, pushing blonde strands of his hair out of the way, his eyes slowly blinking open slightly before a small tug of a smile pulls his lips slightly. 

"Sorry." I whisper, not meaning to have woken him up. 

"It's okay." He says quietly, closing his eyes again. "I love you, Vivian." He adds, his eyes staying closed, but he grabs my hand that's on his cheek, and presses a kiss to my palm, holding my hand when he's done. 

I snuggle closer to him, laying still and closing my eyes, too, while I reply, "I love you, too," the way I wish I would have done to Nikki all these years. 

Years later, while on what I presumed to be his deathbed, he told me that simple moment was what made him feel sure that I was the one. I took everything he had done up to that point with stride. But thinking he was going to die, reflecting on everything that could have been between us but never got to be, and hearing him tell me, "there's a ring I got you years ago when we thought we were gonna be together, but I never gave it to you. Mandy never knew about it. Linda doesn't know about it, but it's on my closet shelf and I don't want to go without giving it to you," broke my heart more than anything he could've done up to that point.

NIKKI

I turn over, seeing the silhouette of the brunette I picked up at the airport, her sheet-covered chest rising and falling with each breath. 

A part of me feels irritated because her perfume is contaminating Vivian's side of the bed that still smells like her. 

I've been reduced to plucking Viv's clothing from drawers or from in the closet and smelling it. That makes me sound like a fucking stalking creep, but it's the truth. 

How the fuck did we get here, again? 

Oh, right, me not able to keep my dick in my pants, and the woman I didn't keep my dick in my pants for, didn't keep her mouth shut.

I sit up, walking to the bathroom to piss. When I'm done I look at myself in the mirror and feel a little impressed. 

I don't look as bad as I thought. 

Well, kinda. 

I splash water on my face, wincing at the dark circles under my eyes. 

I end up staring at myself for God knows how long, remembering how Vivian would wake up and come in here to get me back in bed if I left her for too long because she didn't like sleeping by herself. 

I smile a little, slowly closing my eyes, feeling her touch across my back, the softness of her lips pressing to the skin of my spine before her cheek presses to the same place before she sleepily mumbles out, "come back to bed." 

Opening my eyes, for a split second, I see her. Standing behind me, green eyes peering at me over my shoulder, the feeling of her holding me...it's gone in a flash. She's gone in a flash. 

My nose burns with the oncoming tears cooking up in my eyes, and I erase them quickly with another splash of water to thr face. 

[ilguna]

Metanoia - Prevaricate (f.o)

Summary: you will be crowned victor of the 75th hunger games.

Word Count; 7.5k

Warnings; swearing

NOTES: i give reader a last name to fit the world.

a big thanks to the anon that gave me this idea!

–

“I wouldn’t if I were you.” one of the mentors warns Finnick, even going as far to try and grab him. 

Finnick brushes them off without a second blink. He gives his mentors a certain look to shut them up, and then he turns towards your direction. You stand next to the chariot, arms crossed with a mean scowl on your face. Your back is turned towards your friends, so it makes him curious about what had happened between the four of you.

Finnick heads in your direction, digging his index nail into his thumb. He stops beside you, a foot or two away as he waits for you to realize that he’s there. Only, you don’t see him, and it raises a little bit of irritation in his own mind. 

He went from such a good mood to sour in no time…

His eyes wander over your floral tattoos, resisting the urge to reach out and touch them. That won’t raise a good reaction from you, “So, was the outfit purposely designed to show off your tattoos, or was it all a coincidence?”

Once he sees your head turning, he tries to offer a nice smile, to try and be welcoming. Only to be met with those same glaring eyes that you were giving the horses. It’s not really a surprise, he shouldn’t expect your mood to lift just because you’re talking to someone.

He continues to dig his fingernail into his thumb.

You readjust your crossed arms, your hands forming into fists. Finnick resists the urge to make some sort of comment about it. About his presence being somewhat irritating for you or whatever.

“I can’t wait to add you to my graveyard, Odair.” you snap at him.

His eyes have wandered to your right arm--his left--to see the skulls. Black and white, and they’ve got a first and last name to each of them. He leans a little to get a better look, wondering if he’ll recognize any of them, “Is that so?” his eyes meet yours, “You’ll have to catch me first.”

“It’ll be easy, since you’ll be caring for grandma over there.” you say, you jerk your head, his eyes move right back to your arm.

How can you be so hostile all the time? It’s like someone has always pissed in your coffee, you’re hardly pleasant to anyone, especially those you’re making a first impression on. As far as Finnick remembers, he’s never actually met you before, never had the chance to. You got your girl and boy victors, and then handed off the job of mentoring to them like you didn’t care for the job at all.

Hell, Finnick’s found it hard to let go of it.

“Oh really?” Finnick asks, paying attention but trying not to let his irritation shine through.

You’d be such a useful ally to have. With your history of the games, anyone would be sorry not to have you in their alliance. And you volunteered--there’s a plan going on in that head of yours, and he’s got to know.

“What do you want from me?” you ask.

Finnick has gone back to your left arm--his right. This arm isn’t as painful to look at, it’s almost lovely. A very different feel than you give off. If someone had told him that you had such a work on your arm, he wouldn’t believe it. Not with how bitter you are. Bitter and mean.

“Hmm?” he hums, his eyes are stuck on one particular name, it seems a lot more special than the others. Bolded, calligraphy writing. The tattoo artist who wrote this did a phenomenal job, “Who’s Paesyn?”

Finnick sees one large, blur of moment coming from you. His eyes widen for a second, trying to access the situation in what little time he has. Your arm is drawn back, heading straight for his cheek. Finnick catches your wrist in record time, mere inches from his skin. Had you done it, his face would be stinging and he’d have to go out there with a hand mark on his face.

Finnick looks over you measuredly, tilting his head a tad to the right, looking over your face, “You’re hot headed.”

It’s all it takes before you’re screaming in his face.

“You’re a nosy, self-centered, Capitol-raised bitch!” The first sentence leaves your mouth, and it’s enough to turn the heads of your fellow careers friends. Finnick doesn’t mind this, he’s more worried about what’s stirring in his heart, anger, “You’re so cynical that you can’t read a fucking room! You think everyone likes you. You think you can do whatever you want!” you suck in a lung-full of air, “News flash, Finnick Odair, you’re nothing but another pretty face in the sea of victors that are here. No one likes you, as they should.”

Strong opinions, he has to admit it. You yank your wrist free, and Finnick’s eyes widen a little, fearing that you’ll try and hit him again, but you continue shouting, “You’re a filthy human being. I’ll be praying that your death is the first on my hands. I can’t wait until that pathetic girlfriend of yours gets to watch as your body is lowered into a six-foot-deep ditch.”

Suddenly his face is dropping all together, all kindness that he was bothering to have for a decent conversation is gone. That anger only builds when he sees the smug look on your face, as if you think you’ve done something, mentioning Annie like this. Talking about her like she doesn’t have a mind of her own.

She’s human, just like the rest of you.

“You say nothing about Annie.” Finnick can hardly recognize his own voice.

“I can saying whatever the fuck I want about her.” when you stand taller, Finnick clenches his fist, gritting his teeth, your next words should be careful, but they aren’t, “You just don’t like to hear it, because it’s all true.”

Finnick starts forward, full intent of knocking your front teeth out, but there’s peacekeepers appearing between the two of you. One stands in front of Finnick, urging him to go to his own chariot. Finnick grinds his teeth.

Then he catches that fucking look you’re giving him over the peacekeeper’s shoulder, and then he’s resiting a whole new level of anger.

A murderous rage.

--

Finnick loops the rope, pulling the side through to make a second loop. Then, he prepares the end. At the sound of the automatic door whizzing shut, he looks up from his project. Mostly hoping for Katniss and Peeta, but getting you instead.

He’s a lot calmer today, the irritation yesterday definitely wasn’t his fault. He realized that after the tribute parade, when you had come over to apologize. You were much calmer then, and even though the apology of what you said was reluctant, he accepted it anyway.

Having you as an ally wouldn’t hurt. Especially now, with a plan being worked on in the background. Hell, he even asked his mentors to request you as an ally. He didn’t go for Brutus, or the siblings. It was you specifically, because there’s some sort of feeling in his stomach that’s telling him it’s right.

Finnick doesn’t pay too much attention to what you’re doing. One moment you’re talking to the other three careers, and the next you’re working on hand-to-hand combat with one of the Capitol soldiers. He tries not to stare too much, but watching the way you move around the blocks, always knowing where to step, how to move.

It’s entrancing, he can’t help but barely hold onto the mess of rope in his hands, twitching in the directions he would have gone with the moves that the soldier is pulling. It would have gotten Finnick down, but you knew that the soldier wanted you to move that way, so you went the other.

One surge of satisfaction goes through him when you kick the man down. You seem pretty happy yourself, blowing the hair out of your face and going to make conversation with the man. Finnick decides that it’s now or never, tossing the rope onto the cold, cement bench as he heads your way.

You help the man back onto his feet, he sits at one of the lower blocks, and you head upwards, swinging the staff in your hand. Finnick stops a couple of feet away from you, like he did the day before. But now he has to be even more wary; you’ve got a weapon in your hands.

And even though fighting before the hunger games isn’t allowed, it hasn’t stopped either of you yet. You’ve already tried to slap him, and Finnick had the full intent of knocking your teeth out yesterday. Needless to say, the two of you shouldn’t be anywhere near each other, but Finnick has to.

“So what did you tell your mentor?” Finnick asks politely.

You roll your eyes, letting them land on him, “You’re impossible to get rid of.”

Finnick watches as you gracefully take a seat on the block, letting one of your legs dangle, while the other is crossed beneath the thigh. You set the staff next to you, rolling it with your palm.

He can see just how close he’s stopped to you, and so he takes a step or two back. It doesn’t bother him that he has to look up, it’s rather the angle he’s getting. He wants to see you fully, access your body language. Yesterday it had saved him, and today it’ll help him choose his words more carefully.

“What have I ever done to you?” Finnick asks.

“Nothing, thank god.” you nearly laugh, eyes looking him over like you’re sizing him up, Finnick isn’t bothered, “Your existence is enough to set me off.”

Finnick can’t help but to frown a bit, “That’s unfair.”

“Life is unfair. Not everyone has to be pleased with your presence.” you squint, but there’s no sense of hostility just yet.

It’s clear that your speaking patterns are always meant to be mean, hit home close to the person. It’s undoubtedly what happened with your career friends yesterday, with him, and then today with those same careers. You’re always saying something that might be seen as insensitive.

Finnick smiles now, “Oh, I know.”

“I don’t know why you’re so insistent with me in particular. There’s other girls for you to try and swoon.” you motion with the hand that’s still rolling the staff, “Johanna, Cecelia, Wiress, Katniss.”

“Katniss is seventeen.”

“Has that ever stopped you before?” One of your eyebrows raise, it’s a challenge.

She’s clearly referring to his unfortunate time in the Capitol during his youth. Leave it to her to bring up a topic like that, but it’s really like the pot calling the kettle black. He’s not the only one, you’ve been there and done that too. 

“I don’t associate with minors, (Y/n).” Finnick says, making sure that it sticks. He wants you to catch the hint that you’re not like those… people...

It seems to fly right over your head, “That’s right, because you have a girlfriend.”

Finnick presses his lips together, eyes squinting. You’re not really going to wander down this path again, are you? This time he might pull you right down from the blocks and give you a taste of your own medicine right before the peacekeepers come over. And what are the gamemakers going to do about it? Nothing.

“Back to your original question, no, I’m not going to be your ally.” you say, letting go of the staff that you had gripped for a moment.

Finnick raises his head again, he hadn’t realized he lowered it. Either way, it seems like he’s out of a valuable ally. Even if neither of you get along… he’s gotta have you. This won’t be the end, you have to join him and the others. It’s not really a choice anymore.

“Is it because of your distaste for me?” Finnick wonders, eyebrows drawing together. 

“You really could have anyone in this room be your ally, and yet you choose me. Why is that?” you ask, “Is it because I’m mean or difficult?”

He wants to tell you that it isn’t either of them. It’s because you’re dangerous, prepared. That when you volunteered, you had that same dark look on your face that your tributes showed year after year. A certain determination and goal, and they’d do anything to get to it.

He has to lie, he doesn’t have a choice. He can’t risk you knowing, not now. No doubt you’d run off and tell every ear that’s open to listen, “I’m just curious on how well the alliance would be able to hold up in the arena.” Finnick tilts his head, following what you’ve done, “How fast you would try to kill me.”

“Immediately.” you say without missing a beat.

Finnick can’t say he’s surprised, “You’re telling me that I haven’t grown on you at least a little, now? After all the conversations we’ve had.”

You hold up your hand, pressing on your fingers. Finnick knows this ought to be good, if you’re naming points now, “The first one, I called you a cynical prick, the second I was forced to apologize for being too mean and hurting your crybaby feelings, and you’re telling me that this one isn’t any better?”

“Crybaby feelings?” Finnick wants to laugh. Him having crybaby feelings? All he did was mention a name on your arm and suddenly you were on your way to slap him. There was a big difference between your guys’ reactions. He was defending Annie, and you were just being a bitch.

The urge to laugh is gone once he sees the look on your face, “So you didn’t run off to cry to your mentors?”

“You did try to hit me, after all.” Finnick reasons, he also wants to tell you that everyone has their own two eyes, so they were bound to see for themselves, but he tries a nicer approach “They wanted to know what happened.”

“Right, sure.” you roll your eyes.

Finnick smiles, “You’re cute, you know that?”

There’s a change of expression immediately. Your whole face deadpans, eyes narrowing, mouth curling into a snarl. You turn a little red, and if this were a cartoon, there’d be steam coming out of your ears.

It was a harmless statement to him, but clearly you don’t like it. With your jaw all wound up, hand gripping the staff like you’re going to swing it towards him. He guesses that you don’t like the word labeled on you. If he were to take another guess, it’d likely be because you’re never been cute, you’ve always been fire or ice.

Being seen as cute is being seen as vulnerable.

An innocent mistake to him is a grave mistake to you.

Finnick can’t help but to notice a fire crackling in his own chest. He reaches up, rubbing the area because he doesn’t understand it for a moment. He doesn’t feel the need to be defensive, it’s not him that was offended. So, there’s no reason to get mad, not even for you not taking his statement the right way.

It can’t be his own emotion, then. It must be someone else’s.

Finnick looks back up to you, fixing the frown that was beginning to creep onto his face, “Listen, I didn’t mean it like that.”

He watches as you take a deep breath, calming yourself. It seems to work remarkably well, your face begins to return back to its natural color and your face smoothes cooly. No longer gripping the staff--but not rolling it either--your voice is measured, “I am not cute. No matter the way you mean it, I’m not a cute person, and I never will be.”

The fire in his own chest seems to cease, Finnick stops rubbing his hand against his chest in that moment. And his mind takes off with one peculiar thought. 

It’s a little weird that he had begun to feel defensive the same moment that your face turned that red color. Then you calmed down, and that burning feeling in his chest also calmed down.

It all has to be a coincidence, right? It’s a coincidence.

Anyway, it was just as he guessed, you don’t like the gentle things that would change your label from hard to soft. So, instead he takes a different approach. Nodding, he says; “I guess what I should have said is that you’re funny.”

“Funny how?” you’re defensive again, “Funny because I get mad so easily?”

“That and the fact that you also think you’re unlikable. Here’s a newsflash for you: you’re not.” Finnick smiles a little.

“People pretend to like me because they know what happens when they don’t.” you lean towards him, and he knows it’s for an intimidation factor, “I’m sure you can take a solid guess on what I mean.”

Finnick lets out a small laugh, “What, you threaten to kill everyone you don’t like?”

“You’ve been on my list for a pretty long time now.” you say, there’s a head tilt that goes along with it, “I’m lucky that I finally get to fall through on that.”

A list, huh? He’s not bothered by the fact that you don’t like him, you’ve made that clear plenty of times now. But who else could you possibly want to take down with you? Not the careers, he doesn’t think, you’ll want them for your alliance, “Who else is on your list?” Finnick finally asks, hoping that you don’t catch on, “Genuine question.”

If he can find out anyone else that you don’t like and plan on killing, then it’ll be a lot easier to steer them out of your path. Especially if it’s Katniss or Peeta. If you don’t like them, then you’re bound to go after them no matter what it takes. 

“Everyone who has ever done me wrong.” You say simply, there’s a smile on your face.

“Give me an example,” he urges, and then adds, “Besides myself.”

You don’t catch on, “For starters--” you turn your body when you speak. He thinks it’s because you’re searching for the person you’re speaking of, but your finger lands on her easily. You had to have been keeping track of where she’s been moving around. Finnick takes note of that--you’re observant. You continue speaking, “--her.”

Katniss is sitting with Wiress and Betee at the fire starting station. They pay little to no attention to the Capitol person working there. They observe, though, happily. As if they don’t care that they don’t actually get to start, but instead that the tributes already know what they’re doing, well.

Katniss is most definitely making friends like Haymitch had said she would. She was reluctant at the start, but Haymitch said she’d come around. And here she is, choosing two of the most useless tributes to want. Nuts and Volts--as Johanna calls them.

“What has she done?” Finnick’s on the verge of a laugh, he can likely guess why you don’t like her either, but keeps it to himself.

There’s a smile on your face already, when he looks at you, “I’m not one to fight for spotlight, but this year is different.”

Spotlight? You’re here because you want to gain more attention?

He can’t say that he isn’t surprised. He was expecting something else from you. He’s not sure what of, but it wouldn’t be some dumb glory of a two-timing winner. With what you said, there’s no doubt in Finnick’s mind that it’s also what the other careers--Cashmere, Gloss, Brutus--also volunteered for.

Finnick can’t place his finger on it. He just didn’t think you’d want to go back in. Especially since you were so quick to give away your mentor position to your two tributes, as if the job didn’t matter at all. Most career mentors like to live the games through their tributes after they win. It’s the bloodlust that makes them want to go back in for more.

And now he knows that you really are after Katniss, and with that would probably be Peeta too. Which means that the others are likely to follow your lead when it comes to hunting them down…

Makes the situation a whole lot more complicated. Trying to convince you to join his alliance is nearly out the window. There’s no way you’ll be down for what’s being planned if your whole goal is to kill Katniss, Peeta, himself and whoever else. You’ll likely fake your way through the alliance and then try to kill the twelve tributes when you get the chance.

What doesn’t help is that you want the glory. The whole idea is one half of a step from being out the window at this point. Finnick wonders if it’ll be possible to change your mind on it. But with that, he’d have to tell you about the plan, and since you’re District Two--you’re a Capitol Pet…

Finnick can’t leave you hanging, “Because you think you’re going to win?”

“I know I am. And it’ll all work out once I get rid of the only threats. You can identify those on your own, right?” you ask, picking up the staff and deciding to roll it back and forth on your thighs instead. The conversation is nearly over, he knows it, “I didn’t volunteer because I thought I could win. I volunteered because I know I can.”

A certain pride fills his body, it’s in his chest area again. There’s no need to be prideful, especially right now. It’s not his emotion--his emotion would be… oh, he doesn’t know anymore. There’s so much to consider now.

“So, you, Cashmere, Gloss and Brutus in an alliance?” Finnick finally asks, trying to change the topic. Even though he knows he should continue asking questions. But then he’ll risk the chance of being seen as suspicious.

You glance over your shoulder the same moment Finnick’s eyes shift over. He can barely see around the blocks that you’re sitting on to see them. All he can really see is Brutus, and he’s got a certain smug smile on his face. It’s definitely directed towards you and not him.

You look back at Finnick, “What do you think?”

“I wonder where my invitation is at.” Finnick looks at you too.

“You think we’re going to invite you, when you’re clearly going to drag in Mags? Yeah, you’d be just as bad as Peeta.” you roll your eyes.

Mags is no surprise, but Peeta? That’s new information. He thought you’d see Peeta as another threat, considering he was in the career pack last year. 

His eyebrows raise, “What?”

“Peeta is practically dead already, look at how useless he is.” you jut your chin, and Finnick turns halfway to see Peeta.

Peeta’s with Johanna now. Johanna is swinging around her axe, practicing her skills and probably showing off to the gamemakers to get a higher score. He doesn’t know because he only had a brief conversation with her. Peeta’s standing off to the side, out of reach of Johanna. The two of them seem to be talking.

“Does he even know how to fight?” you laugh, it’s a mean laugh.

“Big talk.” Finnick gives you a glance.

“No, just common sense.” you say, moving on, “What about you, Mister Cynical, any alliances?”

What a stupid nickname. The definition of cynical is to think only for yourself. It’s a way to call someone selfish, but the word cynical seems a lot more harsh. It’s a word that no one uses very often.

Finnick turns back to you. He’s going to lie through his teeth, “No, not yet. I was hoping you’d accept my offer to kickstart it.” Why would he bother to offer you into an alliance that you’d likely ditch and ruin? He’d rather you think it was just him and you, and have it be a ‘coincidence’ inside of the arena when the other two join.

“I doubt that you don’t have any alliances by now. No Johanna or Blight? Or are you teamed up with Katniss and Peeta?” Finnick can feel his blood run cold, you’re better at this than he thought. With the way your eyes are running up and down over his face, you’re definitely scanning for something. And then the word that he labeled you with comes to mind; observant, “Or perhaps, both?”

“Stop that.” Finnick snaps before he can catch it.

A teasing smile hints at your face as you suck in your bottom lip. You lean back on your hands, cheerful that you were able to decipher it, “Both it is. It’s nice to know who to look out for and avoid. Now I’ll know that where one goes–the others will follow. I need to know one more thing though, before I end this conversation.”

Finnick’s eyes have drifted, because now he’s mad at himself. He’s blown this entire thing. He looks at you.

“Were you inviting me into the alliance because you want me to fight alongside you guys, or because you wanted to trap me and be able to take me out first?”

At this point, he doesn’t know anymore. Having you fight with them would be fantastic, but with your mindset on the other tributes, he’d have to kill you first. Forget the others--they might have the same goals, but they won’t go to the extent you will.

It’s a long moment of you and Finnick staring at each other. Then, you place the staff on the block, using it to help get to your feet, “Hey, you don’t have to answer, I’ll be finding out soon enough, eh?” you’re spinning the staff between your fingers, “I will be keeping this convo to myself, though. So don’t worry about it.”

No, he will worry. Because this is all it takes. You having a vague idea of the alliance will be enough to make it crumble.

You slam the staff into the block, giving Finnick one last grin before you’re turning around and leaving. Finnick doesn’t stick around too long after, heading towards Mags, hoping that she’ll have some idea of what to do now that he’s screwed it all up.

--

Finnick readjusts the sleeve against his left arm, playing with the fabric at the end of the sleeve. There’s a string that he’s tried to rip off several times now, and it just won’t break off. Even Mags couldn’t get it to part. So now, he’ll just have to deal with it. It’s too late to go back to the apartment.

Especially now since he’s made it to the waiting room. The doors open for him and Mags, the two of them move into the room calmly. Inside, he can see that there are a few districts already inside, with all the careers being there first, respectively. He wouldn’t doubt if you all were the first to sit down, even.

Just as he walks in, you’re pulling off the jacket that you’re wearing, which unintentionally makes it look like you’re showing off your tattoos. In reality, you’re probably warm.

Doesn’t stop him from commenting, “Welcome to the gun show.”

“I really can’t wait until I can knock your fucking teeth out.” you seethe.

“I’m not that bad.” Finnick laughs.

“You are that bad.” you say, not turning to look at him, “I still don’t know what your goal is.”

“I thought we could be friends.” The right word is allies, as it’s been the entire time. But you won’t bite. You didn’t even bite when you thought that he would be teamed up with Johanna, Blight, Katniss or Peeta. Which he thought was a little odd when he finally had time to think it over, later on with Mags.

“You thought wrong, my friends are sitting right here.” You say, and Finnick doesn’t miss the snicker that comes out of Brutus.

Huh. Looks like your mouth really isn’t growing on them. He’s not surprised.

“Who says you have to stop there?” Finnick asks, it’s a genuine question.

You don’t see it that way, “For fuck’s sake, just leave me alone.”

He does leave you alone, and instead starts a conversation with Mags. Even if it is relatively one-sided, she seems to be engrossed in it all the same. Before he knows it, the room has filled with all the tributes, and Gloss is being called in for his individual assessment. 

After Gloss comes Cashmere, and after Cashmere comes Brutus. Brutus and you share an exchange of words, and it really just leaves you there. After you go in, there’s two tributes before he goes in It makes him a little sick to his stomach to know that it’s so close. He’s not normally such a nervous guy, but these games have got him all sorts of tangled up in anxiety.

Finnick looks over to see that he’s not the only one. You’re also looking a tad pale, yourself. The leg bouncing gives it all away, “Is The (Y/n) Rosecelli nervous?” Finnick’s amused, it’s nice to know that you’re not all high and mighty as you like to make everyone think.

“I’m not.” you say in a relatively innocent tone.

“You’re bouncing your leg like you’re trying to get it to fall off.” Finnick points out.

Your leg stops then, and you take a deep breath, leaning into your hands as you rub your face, “I’m not nervous, someone else is.”

“Someone else?” Finnick asks, he’s confused.

You look over your shoulder at him, “As much as playing stupid looks on you, don’t start now.”

Finnick is quiet, and then he sputters out a laugh, “You have a soulmate?” 

“Everyone does. Mine just happens to be emotional, which is a total drag.” you hiss, Finnick’s eyebrows draw in together, “I don’t need to be feeling like this right now.”

“I heard taking deep breaths are a fantastic way to calm yourself down.” He suggests, it’s once again, genuine. But you must not see it that way again, because you ignore him.

You sit up taller, he can’t see your face at all, but he can imagine you’ve got your eyes closed. While you’re doing this, his own stomach churning comes to a slow, and even a stop. The stomach ache that was brewing is now replaced with something much more powerful; confidence.

You take in a deep breath, probably open your eyes, cross your legs, and you continue to sit tall.

The confidence has something underlying beneath it, maybe his own queasiness, because he’s got a disgusting thought that’s running wild in his mind, and it hasn’t died just yet, “Wow--”

“Zip it.” You snap.

Right after, “District Two, (Y/n) Rosecelli. Report for individual assessment.” the voice over the intercom says.

You stand from where you sat, tossing the jacket over your arm and waiting patiently for Brutus to come out. The two of you exchange words again, and then you’re going inside. Leaving him once again.

But this time it’s much more dangerous, because he’s got this fear that’s only blossoming the more he sits here, staring at the door. It’s just a coincidence. It has to be a coincidence, right?

However, it’s all lined up so far. The tribute parade, with how the interaction went. How he felt so fine just before he went up to you--no, not fine. He felt irritated, it’s why he was digging his nail into his finger, to try and cease it. And it wasn’t until the parade was over, did he feel back to normal.

Then the tribute center, during those three days. The first day when you went from your normal, mean self to pissy in half a second after he called you cute, and how he felt that in his chest. Then later that day, when Katniss was shooting arrows and everyone had gathered to watch, he felt something else. Something much scarier than everything else he felt so far--jealousy. It was pure envy.

And it continued throughout those other two days. Whenever you were angry, there was something boiling inside of him too. Finally, today. Today just now before you had gone inside. You went from being ‘nervous’ to being confident, and he felt the change too. 

He’s been trying to tell himself that it’s all coincidence, but it has to be a hell of a coincidence in that case. There’s something inside of him telling him that it’s not, and he’s finally found the one. But there really is no way to tell until the words are said.

He pulls up the left sleeve, staring down at the words, “I should kill you right here.”

--

Finnick leans against the wall, hands in his pants pockets. He watches as his fellow competitors all come out of their rooms, one by one, wearing their outfits. Some are gorgeous, others are plain ugly and he finds himself lucky that he has such a laid-back stylist. What he’s wearing is comfortable, what they’re wearing is the opposite.

Cashmere and Gloss group up with Brutus pretty early on. The siblings have gone on some silver sequin outfits that are definitely going to catch every single light that lands on them. Right now they look ridiculous, but not nearly as ridiculous as Brutus--who looks like he belongs in a roman coliseum.

Ten more minutes pass, and another door is open. Finnick raises his head from where he’s staring at his black boots. And his eyes land right on you, wearing a dress that blows everyone else out of the water. Not even Katniss will be able to compare, he thinks.

You head straight for your ‘friends’ first, talking to them for a moment. Then, you turn your head in his direction, quite possibly by accident. Either way, Finnick takes his left hand out of his pocket, beckoning you towards him with his index finger. After that, he takes a step back, and then another, and disappears around the corner.

He stops pretty far into the empty hallway, mostly because he doesn’t want anyone who’s walking through the hall to hear the conversation that’s about to happen between the two of you. 

Finnick crosses his arms, smiling at the corner. There’s a hundred things that he wants to say, and he’s going to say most of them. Because he’s so entirely amused that you went from not wanting an alliance to wanting one.

But as usual, he can take a solid guess as to why you’d want an alliance now. And it starts with Katniss and Peeta both receiving twelves on their training scores. You would have been a fool not to request him as an ally then. Unfortunately, he’s a lot smarter than you give him credit for, so his answer is going to be no.

You make a wide turn around the corner, in your hands are fistfuls of the dress that you’re wearing, likely so you won’t step on the fabric. When you’re close enough, he begins talking, “What happened to being too good for an alliance with me?”

“I came to my senses,” you flash him a very white smile, “I realized that it might be good to have you around, after all.”

“It has nothing to do with the fact that Katniss and Peeta got twelve’s?” Finnick tilts his head.

You both know he’s got you caught, “Partially. Forget hanging around with Cashmere, Gloss and Brutus. I want a place in whatever you have.”

“Fat chance.” he says, and he watches your smile fade.

“Why not?” your eyebrows are drawn together.

Finnick resists the urge to roll his eyes. The statement you made yesterday about ‘playing stupid’ comes to mind, and he also resists the urge to say that to you, “You know why. I don’t want you killing my allies.”

“Want them all to yourself?” He watches your right eyebrow raise, “Tell me Finnick, are you going to be able to protect them when they rush towards the cornucopia tomorrow?”

Finnick opens his mouth for a moment like he has nothing to say, “They can take care of themselves.”

“Let’s see, you’ll be taking care of Mags, and Katniss will be taking care of Peeta because he’s nothing but a sack of flour–how ironic. If you have me there, I can basically be a bodyguard.”

“Until you kill one of us in our sleep, right?” Finnick scans your face the same way you were scanning his just days ago, “You’re mistaking me for something that I’m not.”

“Everyone is going to kill each other one way or another.” you say, “I won’t have to do it early on, that’s the whole point of alliances. I keep you guys around until we start to turn on each other.”

“What if we don’t have those intentions?” Finnick asks, he’s hinting at the plan. You’re observant, you have to know that there’s more. If you can read into an alliance, you can read into something that would be seen as innocent in anyone else’s eyes.

It worked. You open your mouth, close it. And then you try again with speaking; “What are you planning?”

This is really the only chance he’s gotten in the last couple of days. He’s been wanting a moment like this, despite the fact that it might blow the cover entirely--but that’s happened once already. And if he doesn’t give you an answer, then you’ll just find one of your own, “Tell me, (Y/n), are you a loyalist?”

He watches you go stiff, staring and waiting for an answer. He can feel some feeling that he’s never felt before, stirring in his stomach. He can’t place his finger on it. 

Suddenly, you’re closing your mouth, eyes blank and distant. Slowly, you begin to press your lips together. To him, it looks like you’re not entirely in your own body, rather you’re just a passenger.

You’re dead for another moment, until you take your time with coming back to life, “You are bold.” your stare is still very blank, and you don’t answer his question either, “And careless for asking me a question like that outright.”

Finnick’s face twists now, “Are you, though?” he’s hoping that he didn’t just blow this.

You’re still silent.

“Yes or no.” Finnick urges.

“I’m not going to answer that question.” you say, you’re back now, “Because I don’t know what you’re up to, and I don’t want to. Forget the alliance thing, I change my mind.”

Finnick watches you turn to walk away, and he catches your arm before you go. Maybe you’re not answering because you’re scared that this is a plan to get you in trouble, “I could tell you.” he offers.

“Why would you want to?” you squint.

Finnick lets go of your arm, “Because having you on our side could be useful.”

“Useful for what?” you’re quiet now, “Getting everyone else in District Two to follow behind all the other rioting districts?”

It’s Finnick’s turn to freeze and stare. It looks like he was right about the observant thing, except your whole mind must have run with that idea in the minutes you thought about it. Letting it sizzle, and then turning it over to get a whole new perspective.

His eyes widen, and he swallows.

“We have nothing to complain about, Finnick. We’ve got the good life.”

“And everyone else? What about the people who don’t have the good life? The ones that fight to live everyday? What about them?” he asks, you’ve got to have some compassion.

You nod slowly, thinking, “Well, I’m not a loyalist and I’m not too fond of being considered a traitor either.”

He’s gotten through to you somewhat. You’re right there.

“You’re after the glory of being a legend, right?” Finnick asks, he watches as you take a step back. Clearly you weren’t expecting him to realize what you were after, either, “This is better than that. People will know that you were the first person from District Two to hop on and lead. You want people to look up to you, here it is.”

Someone appears at the corner that the two of you had passed. Finnick looks over, and soon you are too. Haymitch is standing there, “Interviews have started.” his eyebrows are together. Haymitch is going to ask a lot of questions later about this interaction. 

“Thanks.” Finnick says, Haymitch goes back to where he came from, “Don’t make the decision now, but if you do want to join us, come and find me inside of the arena.”

You look at him, “You’re going to run to the cornucopia, I’m not stupid.”

“I know you’re not. Which is why I think you’ll make the right decision.” Finnick tells you.

You scoff, “Right decision? You know what you’re asking, right?” and then you laugh, shaking your head as you pull up your dress so you can walk away, “How do I know if any of this is even true?” he doesn’t say anything, “Exactly, this could be some sort of sick ruse just to draw me in to kill me and get me out of the way. I didn’t come here to be killed, I came here to win. And you’re going to have to fight me for it.”

You shake your head a final time, before you’re turning and leaving.

Finnick looks up at the ceiling, trying to get his heart to stop beating so much. That was such a risk to take, and he’s not even sure if it was worth it to do. Just getting the thought in your mind was…

He shakes his own head.

It was worth it. At least now you’ll be thinking about it. Maybe even make you hesitate inside the arena.

--

The arena is hot. Finnick’s been above the pedestal for only a couple of seconds now, and he can feel himself begin to sweat. Not only is the sun beating down on his shoulders, but the arena is so damn humid too. The combination of the two things is a very clear indicator that he’s going to be dehydrated soon, so the first thing he needs to do is find water.

The whole landscape seems to be in layers. In the middle is the cornucopia, which is stationed atop black rock, with twelve even spokes that go out from it. The second layer is water, which is where the tributes lie. Two tributes to each pie slice, to Finnick’s right is the lady from nine. She’s not part of the alliance.

Beyond the water, is the beach--which the spokes touch. It’s a thin beach, and beyond it is a very healthy, green and thick jungle that looks like absolute terror to deal with. 

Finnick prepares himself to angle to the left, for his black rock spoke. On the other side, the other tribute seems to have the same idea. Or rather, they don’t have much of a choice. Either way, Finnick isn’t worried because he knows that he’s going to make it there first.

The gong sounds, and Finnick launches himself into the water, diving right in. Arm over head, legs kicking hard, he finds himself being comfortable. Water is easy to deal with, it’s how he won his games. He’ll be lucky if he can win the same way.

He reaches the black rock easily, placing his two hands on it. Without trouble, he hoists himself up, noticing that the other tribute hasn’t even gotten close yet. Smugly, Finnick whips his hair out of his eyes before making a bolt for the cornucopia. The trident that the gamemakers have put out, glints in the bright sun.

Finnick makes it to the box, thinking he’s made it there first. He grabs a hold of his trident, and he’s prepared to turn and take a look around, until he hears a certain plucking sound. He takes a step forward, trying to see into the cornucopia room, since that’s where the sound is coming from.

And you turn, face hard with an arrow pulled and pointed straight at his chest.

Finnick’s face twists, “You can’t actually–”

Just to prove him wrong, you let the arrow whizz right over his shoulder. He can feel the air shift--swears that you had even clipped him. Then, you speak, “I should kill you right here.”

Finnick’s mouth falls open involuntarily. It’s the words. You’ve said the words.

“I wouldn’t if I were you.”

You seem to realize too, and then Finnick and you stare at each other, not knowing what to say.

[japiform]

Helmsman: Wake up somewhere new

Grand: You are doing more paperwork, fuckin kill you with a culling fork. More and more and more and you satisfy yourself by reading one, telling the sleeping psion the joke that is these assholes requesting aid, and write 'Fuck Off' in big spiky letters across the whole thing. That goes in the Done pile. Next paper, type a moment to research what the fuck they're even talking about, because you stopped hiring motherfuckers to know more details than you when they kept fucking dying or leaving. Getting exiled. Whatever.

Your typing hand leaves the husktop to run over the fuzz of the psion's warm fragile skull while you read some more shit, strike out some more shit, and sigh. "Motherfuck, I need a vacation," you mutter, and it's a joke because this is about as close as you GET to a damn vacation, but not a joke funny enough for you to laugh. You look up round the room, all the medicullers absent save the one you successfully disarmed (okay, that one you'll laugh at), and he's dead the fuck asleep. Everything's in white, save the floor which is a multihued stain down to the drain in the center of the room, though it is mostly subtle variations of purple. Not a lot of offcolor fucks that you consider WORTHY of gettin tended to, after all.

This helm don't know how lucky he has it.

Helmsman: Stirring, your hornbeds crackle with power as the sedatives start wearing off. The dull, fullbody pain makes you groan under your breath and squinch your eyes tight, before it fades and you can settle again. 

It occurs to you that you're being touched, but you don't sense any animosity from it, which is strange and new. Along with this feeling of not-bad is the voice you recognize. The one that makes you feel. Not-bad. 

Your blue eye creaks open to survey your surroundings, and you grimace at the white, zapping the troll next to you to get their attention. 

"Hey. Can'ya turn off th'lights? Ssbright." Grumble.

Grand: The crackling of his horns takes a moment to register, the groan less so. You finish writing Fuck Off on this next illustrious waste of tree pulp, running your off hand down his nug til you get to the base of it before you withdraw--Just in time to get zapped. You let out a curse that's actually just a verse of your most holy of texts (elixirs 5:18; pour one out for you, your blood is paint yet to be spilled), and bare your teeth at him, eyes flashing with menace. 

Oh. He's just waking up. 

“Poor motherfucker," you croon, and it's a mocking tone that you speak in. But what the fuck ever, you can stand for a break. You turn off the lamp closest to him, shut your husktop with a finite click, and captchalogue the stack of important papers that you've filled out. ... Oh, and the not done ones too, if for no other reason than state secrets or whatever the fuck.

Helmsman: "Thenks." Your voice is rough from both overuse and underuse, and you clear your throat a few times before swallowing a little bit of blood. Gross.

Blinking your eyes open, you take a better look at the room around you, and then up at the troll looming over you.

"Oh sshit." Oh shit is right, because if you aren't mistaken, that's the fucking Grand Highblood. In the flesh.

"Sso. Are you the personification of the Angel of Death, or am I hallucinating?"

Grand: "You fuckin flatter me," you say, batting your lashes a bit. "Either that, or you're hallucinatin, cuz I ain't been called angelic in a while." Your hands are to yourself, but you know the sound of a fucked up voice when you hear one. You wonder if you'll have to shove a tube in his mouth to get him to take somethin from you, or if he'll take it just to make you stop botherin him.

... But you also take the chance to look him over. Mostly just his face, which has the capacity for expression now, and is therefore finally actually interesting. "So surprised to see me? I told you I'd help."

Helmsman: You look confused, and a bit upset, like you'd had a present ripped away from you. "Then... I'm not dead." Thin eyebrows furrow and you attempt to sit up, which is hard when your arms feel invisible. After a bit of struggle, you flop back down heavily, hissing at the pain. The light in your eyes seems to pulse, like you're trying to focus. "The- the data..?"

Grand: "Not a fuckin clue." This is definitely about to get spicy, and you don't grin. But you want to. You want to rub your 'i told you so' in his moronic fucking face. "You ain't dead. You're limbless and on my ship, after you tried to fire up a single fuckin cannon and immediately fainted. Whether you managed ta finish transmittin your entire self into the space between helms, i ain't got an iota of an idea. But I told you that you didn't have to shoot me, that i would wait for you to get your business done. So I don't know that I feel like that's my problem."

Helmsman: "Limbless." Yeah, that explains why your arms feel invisible. You failed. After everything you did.

After all that pain and hard work just for it to fail. You're silent as you process this, before your eyes grow damp. You can't even wipe the frustrated tears away, so you curl away from the clown so you can cry with a little bit of fucking dignity.

God your life goddamn SUCKS. The sobs hurt as they rip out of you but you can't make them stop, thin frame heaving. He should have let you die. You shouldn't have told him anything. God you're so stupid!

Grand: ... Oh.

You expected this motherfucker to fight. To flare up bright, like you saw he could do in the ship, like you know he could do as a ship. The fight wouldn't do much good, him limbless and you your powerful, merciless self, but you woulda had fun trying to take him out without takin him all the way out.

You look over him, crying, weeping and just barely able to turn away from you, and you feel

something.

Fuck knows what.

"For fucks sake, we doin this shit?" you snap, and you think it should have come out a little harsher, a little louder. Or maybe you should be laughing, perhaps. No motherfucker would be surprised to hear you laugh.

"Like I ain't the most powerful motherfucker this side of the damned universe. Where the shit are your files or what the fuck ever."

Helmsman: Shaking your head, you laugh through the tears, a mirthless, harsh noise. "Where the fuck do you think they are?"

Crying is such a relief, though. Like you finally can expell all the horrid feelings you've been holding close to your chest for so long. You've been ripped from your ship, sanitized, bundled up all careful in a medical cot, what more do you need to hide? What would it possibly change?

"I was always doomed. What difference does it make now."

Grand: You grit your teeth at that unrighteous sound, but what the fuck is it you can do? Where the fuck indeed. You keep your helms and your files separate, at the rate you burn through them, and why the fuck wouldn't you? But you've never thought about the logistics of how the fuck one would store themselves, never thought about how it wouldn't be in ship storage unless it was some place the fish bitch could see.

For a second, from the way you have trouble breathing, and from the way your pump aches, you think you're finally kicking it. It's only a breath, only a beat, but still enough to get your fronds all wound the fuck up in the soft silk of the hospital bed. Still enough to have you reeling.

"Well. Guess you're gonna have to stay lively long enough ta write your fuckin memoirs, ain't ya?" you say, and it's quiet, and not all that funny, and you don't know what the hell is going on. "So, let's see to that."

Helmsman: You half feel vindicated from seeing that conflicted look on GHB's features, but the other half of you feels really bad. The guy went out of his way to save your useless life, used his resources, time, and energy to pluck you specifically from death's door and sit next to you.

Memoirs he says, like that isn't a ridiculous statement to make this late in the game. How are you gonna write them without arms, you wonder. It makes you laugh again, and this time it feels better to laugh. Once the giggles have settled down, you look at the troll next to you, really look at him, yellow streaks run down your cheeks and staining the white pillow under you.

"You've been here the whole time, right?"

Grand: There you all in all your glory, thousands of sweeps old and not quite so young looking as you were when you first caught this motherfucker, wearing what amounts to your casual clothes and the tie you wear when you're feeling like you should get yourself in the head for business. Your hair has grey, your paint has a fine line or two in it, but you're still an unholy terror when you want to be, which is still fucking most of the time. 

Your hands unfist in the covers, and you roll your eyes at him, recline in the chair you stole from your office because fuck if you're gonna use a visitor's chair, you're the fucking king. "Nah, motherfucker, I got shit to do other than tend to your pathetic ass." Your ankles cross and you look up at the ceiling, casual as you fucking please. "But I been here often enough. When I ain't preachin or doin other holy shit. Medicullers just ain't made like they used to be, and some don't know how to ask first instead of puttin their knives where they ain't wanted. Can't have them makin that mistake when I went through all the trouble to nab your scrawny ass, can I?"

Helmsman: "Well. Thanks, I guess. You've got your reasons I don't doubt, but." You avert your eyes, not that he can tell. "It was better than being alone."

Okay you need to sit up Now. Cracking your neck, you test your reach with your psionics, the energy roving over the whole room as you manually adjust the power. Ugh, that feels weird. It takes a negligible amount of thought to arrange yourself a bit more upright against the pillow, and it does wonders making you feel less like you're at the mercy of circumstance. 

"... You haven't changed a bit, huh you shitty old man."

Grand: You roll that thought around your head, feel it shifting shit behind your eyes. It was better than being alone, he said. Ain't that a terrible weakness of his, that dislike of being alone? Feels like the fucking point of a wriggler's afternoon special, soft and sweet and weak as it is. Pathetic, is what it is. 

You watch him out of the corner of your eye, watch him sit himself up with power that you still don't trust not to be pressed into the flesh of you, though the thrill keeps you from locking it away tight with something or another, and you are a little impressed that he even knows how to use those when he's spent so long being sucked dry of em.

"Course I've changed. I think I've gotten taller. Definitely gotten older. I think I've killed a few more thousands of fuckers, though I might be off by a decimal point or some shit. You gotta be more specific, motherfucker, if you want to get a particular answer."

Helmsman; Scoff. "It was rhetorical, fuckhead." The residual psionics definitely is filling the air with static, and now that you've tapped into them it's increasingly hard to tamp down on them. Guess you're going to be fizzing like a carbonated beverage for the next little while. 

"I do have some questions for you though."

Grand: You bark out a laugh, as your head fills with static and your hair puffs up faintly like an angry cat. You're going to have to rub him down with fuckin drier sheets or some shit, just to get some peace and not have your papers stickin to you. 

"What the fuck else have we got to do, bitch? Go on, ask."

Helmsman: You chew on your lower lip as you think of the right way to word it. "Does Survivor know I'm alive?"

Grand: "Yep," you pop the word sharp, rocking back on your heels and two legs of the chair. More throne than chair, really.

Helmsman: Would be a shame if he were to fall backwards and hurt himself... Someone's gotta teach this guy not to lean on the back feet of chairs. He could hurt himself. What a shame. 

The front two legs slam back onto the floor, and you sneer at him. "The last thing I need is for you to suffer some kind of concussion right now."

Grand: You yelp, an unseemly noise, as your chair is forced groundways, making you a six legged shape once more. "My skull is thicker than that, for messiahs motherfuckin sake, ask your damn questions instead of fussin over my old ass, you motherfuckin limbless horror."

Helmsman: “It'd just be inconvenient, is what I'm saying. Like I'd bother fussing over you, nightmare fuel." 

This fucking guy. You shut your eyes, exhaustion hitting you like a truck all of a sudden. "Will I see her anytime soon or am I just gonna be stuck in this glass bottle forever so you can keep prodding me with sticks?"

Grand: Nightmare fuel. You like that, and it makes you chuckle different, a low bass rumble in your chest. 

"You'll see her when she comes up with a plan that her and blue think will keep me from wreckin their shit, and as soon as you can get jostled without openin up every scab you got from nose to nook, which believe me, are plentiful.. And maybe a little longer than that, dependin on your amusement ta annoyance ratios. Don't go tryinna manipulate em to your wantin, cuz I ain't gonna tell you which keeps you here longer."

Helmsman: "I'm going to be honest with you: I'm a doer not a schemer. I'd pinky promise you, but, well..." 

Shrug. 

"As long as I get to see her again." You forgot what it was like to yearn for someone, but right now it's all you can take to be away from Bastet. You were being honest earlier when you admitted you don't know how to be alone anymore.

Grand: You hear that, and you tip back in your chair again, arms crossed behind your head, and you smile. Fuck yes. "Ain't that sweet," you chirr, and it could be nice if it was anyone other than you. But you are, as he said, nightmare fuel, and you ain't particularly inclined to be anything else. 

"Give it a week or two. A perigee, tops. You'll get where you wanna be. Think you can wait that long, motherfucker?"

Helmsman: "Only been waiting the majority of my life." Sinking back into the thin blanket. "If you're going to stick around, do it goddamn quietly, for fucks' sake." 

You're starting to feel lightheaded, and want to sleep now.

Grand: A snort. "And here I thought you liked my company. You'll tolerate it or you won't, and it ain't my problem either way." 

Still, when he nestles himself down, you draw the blanket up past his damaged shoulders so he don't catch chill and kill himself on something nothin much at all. And you go ahead and take off your business garb (the polkadot tie you wear when you're deep in the shit creek that is your backed up paperwork), twirling it around your finger before you captchalogue it. "Just fuckin sleep, you're gonna need it."

Helmsman: “Don't need your permission." You bite back, already fading off into dreamland. Geez, being a sassy sourpuss takes a lot of energy.

Grand: He falls asleep to the low rumble of your laugh at his expense, amusement in the face of his fucking spite. Once he's out, you realize you forgot to make him drink, and decide you'll get on with it when he's a little more conscious. No point forcing him if he's not around to make you work for it, is there? 

You don't turn on the light for a good hour or so. You just sit back in your throne, the back legs of it worn away from just such play, and you think. And you speak a few more times, half thoughts that you don't bother to explain cuz he ain't around to ask. But mostly, you just think.

[kiribaku-recs]

People suck, but not all of them

Chapter 1, Part 2.

When they are far away so that we can’t hear them bakugou turns to me with a smirk on his face “ you must be Kirishima Eijiro” I nod my head to nervous to do any gestures with my hands he nods his head in approval before bitting his lip looking me up and down. “Your really cute ya know” and my god it I ever thought I would die it’s right now.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

I can’t move, my body is hot all over, I can’t move or blink, but, I can breathe. I know I probably blush like a mad man right now, but I can help it a cute- no HOT guy just called me cute I think I’m gonna die. And the best part is I don’t even now how can he just say something like that! He’s so confident! He’s so manly! So cool! I wish I could be more like him!

Oh hell. Oh damn it. Oh shit. Oh fucking shit. That’s when I realize, my....my....pants have gotten a little tighter. Why did I wear skinny jeans? Why? Of all the times I can get a-...a-....ya know THAT it has to be right now? Why me of all people? And my mom and my teacher are here! And why did I get one? Because a extremely hot guy with nice arm, strong legs, probably a nice toned chest- FUCKING HELL EIJIRO GET YOURSELF!

I can’t even move my legs because I did it would just grow bigger, UGH I hate him. And thank GOD he hasn’t noticed, I would literally die. I move my hands in front of my..umm...problem, and I ball the into fists to try and cover my..um..problem.

He just stands their watching my mom and the teacher talk. It’s a little windy out so his spikey blond hair flows in the wind. I can’t help but look at it. I want to touch it. It looks spike and sharp. But also soft and fluffy? I wonder what it feels like? Is it natural? Does he dye it? Bleach it? What does it smell like? Sweet like a summer day, when it sunny out with clouds, a day that makes you want you to lay out in a Feild of grass away from people, away from the world away from all your problems. Where it’s just you and the flower? You and the clouds? You and the slight smell of rain in the air? Just you and the sun?

I didn’t even notice my mom and the teacher walking towards us, I was to focused on my day dream about bakugous hair, when I hear my mom calling me my name I snap out of my day dream and turn my head to look at her so quick I like I might have gotten wiplash. I blink a couple of time to get my head together, when I can finally focus I can see my mom’s worried face, bakugous proud smirk, and the teachers confused look.

“Are you alright dear?” I nod my head, lying once again because if she knew what happened I think I would have killed bakugou and myself. “Are you sure? You look awfully red” I nod my head frantically, trying to tell her that I’m fine and to drop the subject. A look of doubt lands on her face “You can always start school next week honey if you don’t feel up to it”

I can’t believe this is happening. My mom. My own Mother is BABYING me in front of BAKUGOU, I wish my mom would learn social cues, it would make my life so much easier, so, so, so much easier. ‘No mother I am perfectly fine’ I sign with a very annoyed look on face as I cross my arms and look at the ground.

My mom chuckled and whispered in my ear “sorry honey did mean to embarrass you” and my face heats up so much you could probably cook and egg on it. She just chuckles again. Sorry to tell you mom but it’s a little to late now. I just shake my head and my arms tightened over my chest, trying to make myself look small. Because all I want to do right now is have the earth swallow me whole.

The teacher clears his throat getting everyone’s attention. When everyone is looking at him she says “Bakugou may you take Kirishima and show him to everyone” bakugou nods his head than looks to me “are you ready to go?” I nod my head and begin to walk forward when I feel something tugging be backwards into a hug “ugh I’m going to miss you ya know that? Your my favorite child, I would send the twins here if I could.” She huffs a laugh, than she squeezed me very, VERY tight.

I just silently chuckle turning around so I can hug my mom properly. I’ll miss this. As much as I want to get away from my siblings and embarrassing mom, I’ll miss her, her sense of humor, her voice, the way she always makes sure I remember everything, the way we would all just sit down together and watch a movie all snuggled together under a blanket, they was she would sing to me when I was sad, they way she always made me feel safe and wanted and loved.

I quietly cry into her shoulder “I know honey, I’ll miss you too, if you need anything, and I mean anything I will help you. It doesn’t matter what time it is” I pull away nodding my head and wiping my eyes. “Ok sweetie, I love you and I’ll see you in a week ok?” I nod my head again still a little shaken up. I’m going to be going to UA with a hot blond, and that I won’t be able to see my mom everyday.

My mom looks over to bakugou “Take care of him please” bakugou looks at my mother and then to me with a soft smile “I will ma’am” I blush at that. My mom nods her head and looks at me one last time “ok you better get going before I can my mind about this” I smile and wave as I walk away.

Come one Eijiro you got this to can do this I say to myself as I’m trying hype myself up. I turn to bakugou who looking at me. I give him a big grin, not a big tooth girn that’s I used to give people. A lot of people are scared of my teeth. They are sharp and pointy, like a shark. People used to make fun of me for it. That’s why I usual don’t open my month of smile big tooth smile, I don’t want to be known as the freak.

When we are almost their I glance over to bakugou, who have an unreadable exasperation on his face. His eye brows are scrunched together likes he’s deep in thought. I wonder what he’s thinking about. Is he thinking out me? Is he thinking that I’m weird? I’m a baby who cry’s when his mommy leaves him- all of the sudden bakugou turns to look and me. He now has a face of determination, “I’m sorry” is all he says.

I stop in my track confused on why he’s sorry. He didn’t do anything? Did I make him feel that way? Did I do something that made him uncomfortable? Did I look at him weird? What the hell am I saying I probably did all of those things, I can’t do anything right. Hahha. ‘Hi I’m Eijiro Kirishima and I can do anything right’ that’s how I should start addressing people. The boy who can’t even try and save himself, the boy everyone hates, the boy who always messes up. That sounds like a good way to start addressing people. At least they’ll know the truth.

When bakugou notice I stopped, he stops and turns around and walks towards me. His shoulders are slumped and he giving off the vibe ‘look and me I dare you to’ and it’s really intimidating.

He walks up to me and stops right in front of my feet. He shifts from one foot to another, he looks down at his feet, “I just wanted to apologize” he mumbled barely loud enough for me to here.

I raise my hand to tap him one the shoulder to look at me, after a couple of seconds he looks up from his shoes and down at me ‘why are you sorry? You didn’t do anything’ he huffs a laugh “ I’m sorry if I make you uncomfortable when I called you cute. Don’t get me wrong you are still very cute and really attractive and I would love to get to know you more- fuck-...umm shit I...ummm.uhh.. yea....”

I just silently chuckled ‘I would like to get to o wo you to’ And yes, I am aware that, ME Kirishima Eijiro with anxiety, and no social life, the kid who can’t go to the bathroom in public because it scares him, yes THAT Kirishima Eijiro just basically told a guy that I liked him. And I have no fucking idea how the hell I got so much confidence.

But I don’t really care. Because as soon as I signed it, he got the brightest smile on his face. It looked like it could kill someone. The way his crystal blue eye shimmer, the little dimple he has got on his right cheek but not his left one. The way his eyebrows are smooth. Not pinned together in the center of his head. And the weird thing is? I think I’m falling in love with a guy I didn’t even know. But all I can do is smile back.

“Are you gay? Or something else” I can’t help but freeze, I’ve never been asked that question. I don’t know how to respond. I shakily bring my sweaty hand up and respond with a ‘why?’ He looks confused but doesn’t question. “ so I know who my composition is” he says with a sly smile. I take a deep breath, he wasn’t making fun of you, he’s not going to hurt you. ‘I’m gay’

He looks at me, paused like he wasn’t expecting that , and the with a smirk he breaths “I’m gay to, so don’t get all that scared” I smile and nod. And then we get back on our way to the dorms.

When we get closer to the dorms every step gets heavier, every breath gets harder, like someone adds a new weight to my body every step. When we get to the stairs it doubles, and my mind gets fuzzier every step, I close my eyes and take deep breaths.

Before I was ready I was walking through the doors. When I took a couple steps in I was 18 pairs of eyes on me. I try and take steady breaths, but they come out shakey.

1. In. Out

2. In. Out.

3. In. Out.

4. In. Out-

“KIRI” is all I hear before someone launches them self one me. And now I can’t breathe. I can’t see. I can’t think. I can’t move.

My mind flowed with memories of that day. And what the did to me. How they stomped on my arm until it was shattered, how I screamed for my life. How they all just laughed. How they beat me and almost left me for dead. But the names. They things they said, they repeat I’m my head like someone turned on a speaker and blasted it on high.

Disgusting.

Ungrateful.

Unwanted.

Unworthy.

Trash.

Coward.

Bitch.

Fag-

I can’t feel strong arm’s rapped around me. “Shhh it’s ok, I got you it’s ok, your safe, no ones going to hurt you, shhh”

Bakugou.

Then I remember it’s bakugou. I’m on the dorms. They aren’t here. Bakugou. I start to gain control of my breathing. And that’s when I realized that I was sobbing. “Shh, I know, I know, it’s ok, just breath, just breath, shhh”

Why did I freak out? Why can’t I be normal? Why can’t people touch without me freaking out? Why am I a freak?

“Shhh your not a freak, it’s ok. Being normal wouldn’t make you, you it’s ok.’ Did I speak? That would be the first time in 5 months, right? I can’t really remember. And I couldn’t really bring myself to care.

When I stop crying, I pull away slightly to rub my eyes. While still being in bakugous arms, I can’t bring my self to pull away, I feel so safe in his arms, the only other person that makes me feel this way is my mom, and she’s not here.“I’m going to take you to your room and the make you lunch ok?”

I nod my head, and pull away, he put an arm around my shoulders as if he’s protecting me from them. I hang me head low to embarrasses and scared to look at the class. They probably think I’m weird, or a freak, they probably hate me- “I can hear you thinking. Stop it. They won’t hate you. Your fine. Wanna to know what I did on the first day?” I nod my head, because if bakugou embarrassed him self on the first day of school I’ll loose it!

He huffs a laugh “I walked through the door late as usual, and I got scowled for being late and then I tripped over my own feet in front of everyone and they all just laughed.” I can’t help but laugh out loud doubled over clutching my stomach laughing. It’s the first time I’ve heard my own voice in so long. I miss it. But it’s probably the last time I’ll hear it.

“Yah I know his funny, but you get it? That’s no one’s perfect. But that’s ok” I nod my head and we making my way to my room. There was a comfortable silence between the two of us as if nothing happened. My eyes start to droop, that’s when I realized just how tired I am. I lean more in to bakugou finding his warmth comfortable. The walk to my room was a bit of a blurr. But when I get to my room I flopped on my bed and started dreaming or blond hair and blue eyes. God did I have it bad.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Part one

[komahinasecretexchange]

Title: empty out your heart for me

Author: @karasuprince

For: @midnight-run-amok

Ratings/Warnings: mentions of remnants of despair, self-loathing/hate, language, hurt-to-comfort

Prompt: figuring out how they feel about each other

Author’s Notes: hi hi i hope you enjoy reading this!! i am still not used to writing for others but this was a very nice prompt and i had a lot of fun with it ^^ i am also sorry if there are any uncaught grammar errors/etc., english isn’t my native language. but um yes here it is <3

  the skies above him are a clear, bright blue that set his mind at ease. the ocean surrounds him and makes him and the island feel small, makes him feel as though he’s nothing, and for once in his life it is a very welcome change. it’s a very welcome feeling, compared to being put on a pedestal one too many times on the island, decided upon as a leader without his knowing (or consent, for the matter.) the tide rises and he’s ankle deep in water, though he doesn’t really care, and his feet are bare, anyway. he’s alone, even if just for a few moments, and this silence and tranquility is something he can enjoy. because this past week, and all the days before spent on this island, he’s spent so much time with the others that he’s forgotten how silence sounded like, save for the few peaceful mornings before a day of running around and helping the others with various tasks and favours. hinata’s forgotten how to think in peace, and now, simply being able to walk on a beach by himself, feels like utter bliss. “you’d think i’d be able to swim any time i want on a fucking island.” he grumbles to himself, paying no attention to what’s ahead of him. “not the case, though. not even when there’s a pool.” it isn’t the lack of being able to swim that bothers him, of course, but rather the lack of being able to spend his time on his own will. excluding nanami’s constant snooze fests ­­– which, he thinks gives him much more worry and stress than they should – hinata’s found that there’s only one person on the island that, he can really spend quiet, calming moments with. hinata isn’t helping him, so much as he’s helping hinata, whether it’s talking to him about meaningless things, or listening to hinata until hinata feels like he’s gotten whatever stress he’s gained lately off his chest by talking to him alone. but there’s something about him that hinata can’t really understand, or some part of him that he can’t reach. he’s nice, and he’s a good friend, and hinata cares about him – maybe a bit more than he’d like to admit. he gets along with everyone for the most part (even saionji, who practically has a grudge against everyone but koizumi and himself), but as far as he knows, hinata, and perhaps nanami, are his only friends. and maybe that’s because, he has walls raised high. hinata can tell, by the way he shuts out his own feelings or opinions on anything, or has little regard for his well being and, even happiness. it worries hinata, and it upsets him a little – alright, a lot – especially given the fact that there are moments where he goes to extra lengths to help others, but not himself. hinata trusts him the most, and hinata just wishes he’d trust him back. the water around his feet stills. hinata blinks, glancing down. the water, flat and smooth, and too perfectly still to be part of the ocean, sends ripples towards him, and he moves his eyes, looking up and towards the source. the jagged end of the army green coat meets his eyes first, and then a pale neck, before finally hinata’s eyes meet komaeda’s. komaeda is a distance away from him – not too far, yet not that close, either, and hinata closes in on the distance, each footstep sending ripples into the never-ending water, until he’s only a few feet away from him. hinata’s lips part, but komaeda speaks first, eyes crinkling in that soft smile of his. “i didn’t know you thought so highly of someone such as me, hinata-kun.” his voice is soft, gentle, and it both puts hinata at calm and sends his heart beating a little faster. his words sink in. “w-wait, did i – i didn’t say that out loud, did i–?” hinata’s cheeks feel warm. komaeda’s smile shows amusement. hinata can’t read his eyes just yet. “hinata-kun, i don’t need to hear your thoughts to know. we’re…friends, aren’t we? i can read you very well by now.” bullshit, but hinata doesn’t really push it, moving his hand to the back of his neck. “of course i care about you, komaeda. you matter a lot to me – i’m…fond of you.” at this, komaeda chuckles again, and it sends a shiver down hinata’s spine – the good or bad kind, he can’t tell. “hinata-kun…” he says again, and he walks closer, and closer, the ripples growing smaller towards hinata with each step, until komaeda is so close that he can feel his breath on his cheek. hinata turns pink. “…i didn’t ask whether you cared about me or not, simply that you thought of me that much.” hinata feels embarrassed, then stupid, and then embarrassed again. “i-i mean, i – they’re the same, aren’t they?” he grumbles. komaeda’s hand moves to cup hinata’s right cheek. he feels like he’s going to fucking combust. “you know they’re not.” “hinata-kun,” he whispers. hinata looks straight into his eyes – and he wishes he didn’t. because he doesn’t see the usual calm gray green pair of eyes. stormy, swirling eyes meet his gaze, so chilling he feels the air drop a few degrees. and then he realizes that the sky’s darkened, storm clouds forming, crackling, pent up anger and tension threatening to rain down, winds ice cold that run through his hair and whip komaeda’s around, giving him a more chilling, an even more intimidating look. the hand on his cheek is cold as metal.

“hinata-kun, do you still care about me? even now?” hinata dreads the way he looks at him, dreads how his hand is still on his face, still gentle. hinata wants to say something, but komaeda isn’t done, moving his other hand to grip hinata’s shoulder. “do you accept all of me? can you accept all of me? or am i too…disturbing?” komaeda lets out a small laugh. hinata grits his teeth. he wants words to come out. he tries to get words out. he opens his mouth and he yells and he screams but the winds and crackling thunder silence him – no, deafen him until he can’t hear his own words, and komaeda is at the center of it all, the eye of the storm. pushing hinata farther and farther away no matter how hard he tries to reach out. hinata extends his arm, reaching for him. he opens his mouth. “komaeda, please, of course i do – you’re not – i care about you, i really, really do –” and komaeda looks at him, as the water beneath their feet swirls and swirls and swirls, dragging hinata in, looks at him, complete and utter apathy on his face. his lips part. “then what’s keeping you from saying so?”

–

  his nightmares are always abstract and full of shit, hinata decides, sitting up and rubbing his face. it isn’t the first one he’s had ever since their escape from the simulation, and he’s certain it likely won’t be the last – though, compared to more recent ones, hinata can say this was relatively calm. it definitely lacked the violence and horrors of other ones, from memories of being a remnant, from memories of the island. yet this one, this one was more concerning, and more painful. because this nightmare, unlike the others, was about komaeda, or more specifically, what hinata thought, and feared of him, how he felt around him, about him. he moves a hand over his red eye, sighing. it’s like his brain was trying to fucking call him out, and really? it wasn’t wrong.

hinata never considered himself brave, always thinking of himself a coward, especially when younger, and truthfully, even after pulling everyone out of their despair, he still thinks himself one. because out of all the words he’s said, every word that has ever left his mouth, he still can’t get the most important feelings out…to the person most important to him. to komaeda.

having troubles, are you? the back of his mind no longer feels empty. while they had merged, hinata doesn’t really…feel, or notice kamukura’s input most of the time, whether it’s a choice the latter made, or them being in perfect harmony a majority of the time. he thinks it’s the first option, because the second one sort of sounds like a load of bullshit, but then again, he doesn’t really know, nor is he that intent on finding out for sure.

“noo, i’m having a mini-crisis that’s giving me wonderful nightmares that i can’t get enough of.” hinata’s been told that his smart-assery will get him in trouble one day. so far, it’s gotten him in trouble a total of twenty-seven times, but he isn’t about to stop. deflect all you want, but it says more than a definite answer. he kinda hates how kamukura’s always right. stupid ultimate knowledge and shit. what exactly is your problem? you are able to understand your own dreams better than i would.

hinata lets out another sigh, taking a few moments. “…i’ve been…not avoiding him, no, because if anything he’s been avoiding me, but i…” he trails off. “there are things, i struggle to say. feelings i keep in, that i can’t get out. that i don’t know how to put into words.” those two sentences alone took a fat load of energy out of him to form, when it really shouldn’t have. he’s been avoiding everyone, hasn’t he? “yeah…fuck, yeah. and i don’t know – well. no, i know why. at least i’m pretty sure i have an idea of why. but i don’t know why out of everyone, he’s been avoiding…me, especially.” he hates the hurt evident in his voice, but hinata doesn’t make much effort to hide it, if any effort at all. kamukura is silent, and hinata thinks he’s a bit of a bitch. “i just,” he continues, getting out of bed and pacing around the room.

“i know he hates himself – i know that he thinks he’s unlovable, uncared for, and that fucking hurts to think, let alone know as a fact. but if anything, i thought that – that i was…different? it’s so goddamn selfish of me, but i thought – i hoped – that i…that at least with me, he felt…” safe. happy. comfortable enough to say the truth. he can’t get any of those things out of his mouth. kamukura decides to speak up, and you are upset? “of course i’m fucking upset!” his voice is louder than he means it to be, especially since the person he’s talking to is inside his own fucking head. “of course,” he starts again, more quiet this time, “i’m upset that he doesn’t…talk to me anymore. and i know it’s a joint effort, but i don’t know…how to approach him anymore. or if what i’ll say will even be enough. or what i even want to say exactly, for that matter.”

walking into the bathroom, he splashes water on his face, deciding he isn’t going back to sleep any time soon. your problem is that he is avoiding everyone. and you do not think you will be able to say anything that will change that fact, right? and your other problem is that you want to say something, beyond this…situation. what is that something, hajime? what truth are you afraid of?

hinata is silent this time. he does want to say something to komaeda, something he’s been longing to for a while, and then there is the part of him that does not want to say it out loud. that does not want to even confirm it within himself, because… “i don’t…want to end up being the only one who feels this way. i’m not scared of – of rejection, or some stupid shit like that. i don’t think i’ll make things worse in our friendship if i say, what i want to say.

but i’m scared, that it’s only going to be me who cares this much, who’s this attached, and that he doesn’t – he doesn’t care. or that he doesn’t care anymore, and that nothing i can say will even change that. i know he’s – he’s difficult, he’s definitely different. he’s a good person but he, has a bit more shit to make up for than the rest of us do, in his eyes and some others’, anyway.”

hinata agrees that he has done awful shit like the rest of them, some moments, some bad decisions that would end up irreversible even with the ‘it was a virtual world!’ getaway card.  he thinks back to the first trial on the island, to the second-to-last one, and to nanami, and his chest tightens a little. “yeah, he’s definitely done some things he shouldn’t have, but he fucking acknowledges it. and he’s – he’s avoiding everyone, but he’s – i don’t think komaeda’s doing it because he doesn’t want to apologise, or, or some dumb shit like that.

i think it’s because he…” his voice tightens a little. do not get worked up before even speaking to him. “…he thinks, it’s because he’s unlovable, and that no one, cares about him, like i said before. he thinks no one is going to be willing to even validate his – his trying to redeem himself, even though we’re all working to become better. to earn our forgiveness. and i…i don’t blame him, for thinking that, after so many years of being put down, by so many people.”

you are going all over the place. but i understand. you think your words, will be meaningless to him, and that his decision to remain alone is unchangeable. this is…a predicament. hinata thinks he feels a shred of sympathy somewhere in there, and he’s a little grateful for it, not to lie. “…yeah.” you have still not answered my question, though. what exactly are your feelings? you do not have to tell me, but hajime…you know you have to confront them. if you want to help him, you must.

he shuts his eyes. kamukura was right, that he knew. he’d purposely avoided saying what he felt out loud, even now alone with only the comfort of himself and the smarter half of himself. he’s afraid, for all the reasons he’s said and a million more, so many more that he can’t, he does not know how, to put into words, to explain to someone who doesn’t share the feelings he does, not truly. he can’t even begin to explain to himself. but he knows he can’t hide for any longer.

he cares about komaeda. he always has – even after the first week, he’s found it still, hard to ignore him, or to feel completely angry at him. because he’s always cared, and no action of komaeda could erase that, no matter how hard he tried to push hinata away. at first, maybe, he simply found a friend in him – some peace and quiet that was much appreciated, much needed at moments. his dream reminded him as much. but he also listened, to hinata, and was able to empathise a way others couldn’t have, exactly.

and he helped hinata get a lot of things off his chest, from time to time, whether it was worries about his designated position as leader of the group, or troubles that he’d received from others, or self-doubts he’d been battling for much longer…komaeda listened, and was there for him. and one of hinata’s regrets, till now, is that he wasn’t there for komaeda sooner. and after the first trial, he somehow became closer with komaeda, and there were moments where, even if seldom few, where komaeda would open up to hinata, and hinata felt like he trusted him.

along the way, he supposes, that care for his friend…grew. deeper, and deeper, and deeper, until even the final betrayal of his on the island, still could not change how hurt, how upset he was by his death, not even nanami’s execution – it just added on to the pain. because, because he didn’t consider him a friend, not anymore. the term wasn’t strong enough, didn’t convey…exactly how it felt. and his reaction to komaeda finally waking up, and even the months before the moment, spent simply sitting by komaeda’s side, clutching his hand waiting…he knew what he thought of him.

“i’m afraid,” hinata opens his eyes. “to tell him that i love him.”

–

  his food tastes disgusting, but komaeda doesn’t care much. he shoves the breakfast tray to the opposite end of the table, making use of the fact that he has an entire table to himself – whether this upset him or not. he tells himself, of course, that it does not – because he is used to sitting alone, and it is all he can seem to remember when it comes to scenarios like these. at school, on the island, and even now, a young adult, he is alone at lunch, and it is an embarrassing thing to behold.

embarrassing, if not a little sad. he has himself only to blame, of course, for reasons he cannot exactly begin to explain to another human being, let alone sort out himself, without spending too much energy figuring himself out. an obvious reason would be that he was, of course, not exactly quite popular with people in general because of his…eccentric personality, to put it lightly, which even people such as tanaka and mioda could not quite click with.

the most obvious reason, however, would be that he is responsible for the permanent death of a beloved friend that even he misses now. a little amusing how drastically both reasons varied, not that anyone but himself would focus on such things.

komaeda lets his eyes wander around the canteen, eventually to the table which he dubs the ‘twighlight-syndrome batch’, where an explosion of colours in the form of multiple heads of hair chat (and in mioda’s case, yell) over an assortment of things, none of which komaeda can gather info about, asides from the almost-constant outbursts from the musician. unintentionally, he locks eyes with the now tallest member of the bunch, and almost immediately he looks down, the noise from the table simultaneously dulling for a moment.

strange, how even someone with a personality as dislikeable as the traditional dancer’s could be surrounded by so many others. “but even then, she has her merits, and she is changing…you are a whole other case. you have always been like this.” although his voice is quiet, komaeda still attracts the attention of a passing future-foundation member, who simply stares at him a little strangely before continuing to head wherever they were initially headed to.

and komaeda can’t blame him, really. with a reputation like his own, talking to one’s self was more or less a major “DON’T” in big, bold, pink letters. perhaps if he had a second person within his head, he wouldn’t get stared at in such a way, though then again he isn’t quite sure how people are reacting to hinata’s –

he stops in his line of thought, eyes moving upward towards the ceiling. it has been a while, a long while indeed, that he has spoken to him, or even come near him, none of which has been anyone but komaeda’s own doing. komaeda had decided that he would impose this distance between the both of them – both for hinata’s well being, and a little selfishly, for komaeda’s own.

it was not mainly out of fear of any luck-cycle mishap as some might have speculated – while komaeda was at unease about the whole situation, it wasn’t enough to drive him away from…from dear hinata-kun. the real reason, in fact, is because he is afraid. he is afraid of hurting hinata by his words or actions alone, afraid of upsetting or disappointing him, which in komaeda’s eyes would not be very hard to do, given how much of a let-down komaeda already is.

komaeda is afraid there will come a moment where one thing, maybe even just three words alone could ruin hinata’s whole view of him, or could drive him away forever. after all, he’d tried before, and he was much too cowardly to even finish what he wanted to say. komaeda thinks it’s better if he drives him away from the start, before he has the chance to permanently hurt him.

he’s afraid, too, that even if there isn’t a sudden moment of realization within hinata that would make him leave komaeda, that would even make hinata hate him, that no matter what, komaeda will end up being alone again. that he will eventually drift away, even after all they’ve been through together, and that it was simply fated for komaeda to be all alone. his eyes sting a bit, and he looks back down at his tray, deciding he needed something to busy his hands with, reaching for the now-cold plate of omurice.yes, that outcome, among many others he’s envisioned, would be far more painful than distancing himself from the start.

a small part of him chastises himself, because he should know hinata better than that, that he would never do such a thing. because hinata-kun cared, hinata-kun cared when no one else had for a long time, and he would not stop caring out of the blue. the rest of komaeda, though, simply decides that komaeda has much too hope, and really, this hope of his that he’s clung to his entire life has gotten him nowhere, given him nothing but an even harsher slap from reality each time he clung to it.

he shoves a spoonful of the omurice into his mouth to stop himself from frowning too noticeably, chewing and then swallowing down the food along with the choked up feeling one often felt before crying. he will not cry. there is nothing to cry over, anyhow, and if the people around him haven’t cried since the first few weeks of rehabilitation, then why should he? and over what, crushed dreams?

komaeda’s learned long ago that dreams and hopes are simply that – dreams, and false hopes, and that his hope was something he clung to merely to stop himself from giving into his misery. amazing, how dark his day has gotten already, when it wasn’t even noon yet. komaeda looks around the room again, not too surprised to see some people already beginning to get up from their tables.

some faces are a bit familiar to him, members of the foundation he hasn’t exactly acquainted himself with yet, nor has he completely ignored their existence of, either. others are more familiar to him, like the short stature and pointed hair of naegi makoto, who he’s a little surprised to see in this section, though given his status and how dedicated he is…it does make sense.

and then, there are the faces whom he remembers the most – faces of people he used to be classmates with, he used to solve trials with. faces of people whom komaeda has betrayed, like the imposter, the princess, the yakuza – to name a few. they mostly ignore komaeda, or they do not see him, but komaeda is surprised to be on the receiving end of some waves from a few of the girls – double-checking there wasn’t someone behind him that they’d be pleased to see.

komaeda has distanced himself from them, too. he’s aware of how they feel about him, how they should feel about him after everything, and he’s decided that even though he wasn’t very close with any of them, or close at all, he would much rather not hurt any of them, either, not betray or make them upset once more, not that he felt that any of them cared – even if logic might have said otherwise, komaeda did not want to believe in lies created by his heart that he had friends, people who cared about him, even after everything.

it felt too different than usual. it felt too off, too…good, for the likes of someone such as him. so even if he would apologise for what he’s done, even if he would make up for the pain and trouble and unease he’s caused, komaeda won’t get too close, or close at all. he’ll leave space the same way he does with hinata. for their own good. for his own good.

komaeda huffs, shoving another spoonful in his mouth, which he thinks is about the most he’s eaten in a while. somehow, somehow, his thoughts would always come to hinata, and while he didn’t mind it at first, it was only just manageable now. he understands, of course, why his mind always comes back to one thing, one person – it’s hard to eliminate the thing you care about most, no matter how strong-willed you are.

and komaeda considered himself extremely strong-willed. try as he might, no amount of space he put between himself and hinata could stop him from thinking about the latter – that was one of the awful things about affection. you couldn’t control it – it controlled you.

and hinata had earned so, so much of komaeda’s affection. he had made komaeda feel safe, in those special moments with him, away from everyone else, away from the inevitable arrival of another murder, another trial, another session where he plays the villain. he had made him feel happy, and continued to do so each time he approached komaeda, even after the first week.

hinata was still willing to become close to him after the reveal of true colours, after his first layer had fallen away, when no one else but nanami would – but, nanami was…a whole other story, and very different than hinata. because nanami didn’t, couldn’t have ever made komaeda feel the way that he felt when around hinata.

he’d known early on, because if there is one thing komaeda isn’t, it’s oblivious, much to others’ chagrin and his own, even. komaeda might have preferred it if he wasn’t incredibly aware of how he feels about hinata, just how much he cares for him.

it would have been easier to stop thinking about him, most likely, and even more easy to distance himself from him without any regret. but no, komaeda is entirely aware of how he feels about the stubborn man, and has been from very early on, before he could even understand why he felt that way around hinata.

he loves him – he loves him and he adores and admires him till the point where komaeda’s chest feels like it’ll burst from the amount of affection he carries for hinata. and worst of all, his heart feels like it’ll shatter from the weight, the burden of a fact which is that hinata will likely never feel the same about komaeda, komaeda’s convinced himself of it.

komaeda will carry these feelings until they wither and die, or until he dies, and out of all the things in his life, all the miseries he’s faced, komaeda knows that this burden will be the heaviest, the most painful to bear. and hinata will never know, because it’s for the best, isn’t it?

he feels the tears before they come, and sets the spoon aside, raising both palms to press into his eyes now. it isn’t so much as to stop them from flowing, but rather hide the fact that they’re there – to anyone watching, with the addition of the slight trembling of his shoulders, komaeda would only look like he was battling a painful migraine.

not that anyone would necessarily care or look his way, he reminds himself. of course not. it’s amusing, though, how quick the morning is to become sour, and by his own thinking alone, nonetheless. if there was an award for achieving the worst day possible before morning ended, then he’s most certainly won it (a hundredth time, anyway, given his life.) still, he –

“komaeda?”

he stills, and he does not need to turn around to confirm the owner of the voice, nor does he need to stand up from his place to reach him, because soon enough hinata has his arms wrapped around komaeda, making him feel small, pathetic even, but undeniably safe.

“let’s…” komaeda begins, removing his hands to give a half-hearted smile. “we have a lot of things to discuss, i feel. let’s sort them out, shall we?”

–

  komaeda cannot admit that he’s missed the smell of the ocean too much, though the view before him is certainly something he can appreciate; with the faint sunlight, the sun only peeking out from behind the clouds, and the gentle rise and fall of the waves, his mind is definitely more relaxed, now out of the stuffy canteen. he is still on edge, though, and that is namely to do with hinata sitting right beside him. “…so,” the other man begins. “we…haven’t talked in a while, huh?” komaeda represses the urge to snort. even with kamukura’s help hinata wasn’t the best with words, after all.

“no, we have not,” he answers, voice soft. “you did catch onto the fact that i’ve been avoiding you, have you not?” hinata says nothing, though the look in his eyes tells komaeda enough – that he’s been aware of said fact, and likely more. “i hope you’re not upset, hinata-kun, because there are far more important things and people you should–“ hinata doesn’t let him finish, already starting up. “of course i’m upset, komaeda! why on earth would you think i wouldn’t be?” komaeda is silent. he regains his words after a moment. “…because, perhaps, you never sought me out?”

it is hinata, now, who looks shamed, but not speechless. “i – i know i didn’t. and i really, really should have – there’s no excusing that. i was…a coward. i’m still, a coward.” komaeda nods. “…i see. i don’t think i can agree.” hinata is confused – he expected komaeda to agree with him on this, at least, but of course he’s proven wrong again.“why not? i avoided you because i was scared that i’d somehow make things worse – which was stupid, because i should have asked you–“ komaeda shakes his head. “i won’t lie, hinata-kun, you not seeking me out was cowardly, yes, but you aren’t a coward overall. you’re very brave, confident. i truly admire that about you, being able to lead everyone.”

there’s another spark of fondness in hinata’s chest at komaeda’s words. “thank you, but…” he trails off, words dying on his tongue. “we’re here…now, though, and i’m not going to be cowardly anymore.” he already knows, has an idea of the answer to his next question, but hinata isn’t going to leave this – leave him alone without a definite answer. “why were you avoiding me from the start…? i didn’t hurt you, or anything, did i…?” komaeda shakes his head profusely, white curls going back and forth. “that isn’t it at all, hinata-kun. really, i…” he falters, looking down. “it’s okay, komaeda.” hinata reaches out, and carefully takes his left hand in between both of his. “i’m listening. i’m still here.”

komaeda’s cheeks tint, and he nods, barely noticeable. “hinata-kun, i really…from the bottom of my heart, i care about you. and i cause nothing but misery wherever i go, and the last thing i wished for was…to hurt you.” hinata is silent, but his hands are still holding komaeda’s, and komaeda takes that as a sign to continue. “the last thing i wanted to do, was to hurt you, or disappoint you, let you down in any way or form, and then have you desert me. and forgive me, for not having faith in you, hinata-kun, but..” his voice grows small. “…it was hard for me to believe that anyone, but especially someone as wonderful as you, could care about me.” he cautiously looks back at him, and he’s surprised by the deep frown on hinata’s face. "hinata–”

“sorry, but you’re completely wrong, komaeda.” komaeda blinks, surprised, and hinata carries on, subtly moving a little closer to komaeda. “i mean–“ he turns a little red, embarrassment evident in his tone. “i understand why you’d think that – i definitely do, considering…considering everything you’ve had to put up with. but i promise you – you’re very much wrong. i do care about you, a shit ton more than i’d ever have expected to. and i can’t imagine ever wanting to leave you, much less anything you could even say to me that’d make me be disappointed in you. you mean so much to me.” komaeda is surprised by the sincerity in his voice. so surprised that he almost has trouble believing him.

“hinata-kun…” komaeda’s eyes water a little bit, but hinata is relieved, and endeared, to see a smile on his face, cheeks rosy. “i…i’ve been foolish then, haven’t i?” he chuckles, and hinata can’t help laughing along with him a little. “i mean…you weren’t the only one, really,” he mumbles. he runs his thumb over komaeda’s hand. “i…still don’t entirely understand, though, hinata-kun. why exactly…did you think you would ‘make things worse’?” there is a moment of silence, and then another, and then komaeda starts to worry, before hinata speaks up. “i was afraid…that whatever i would have said would have driven you farther away. i was wrong, though, from the looks of it, and really, i’m wishing i spoke up sooner.” komaeda smiles, moving his other hand to squeeze hinata’s. “there’s something else, too,” hinata speaks up.

“yes, hinata-kun…?” komaeda watches curiously as hinata’s cheeks grow more red. “i – i’m kind of embarrassed at how long it took me to figure things out, to realize what you were trying to say or what you meant those couple of times on the island, but…” hinata moves his hand from komaeda’s hold, and raises it to his cheek instead, a little amused by how quick komaeda’s cheeks are to turn red. “when i said i cared about you…i didn’t mean it just as a friend – and, i think after hearing you, that isn’t what you meant, either.” komaeda’s breath gets caught in his throat. his heart is pounding against his chest. “hinata-kun, what do you…?”

“komaeda, i love you. and i have loved you for a long while…and i really, really want to stay by your side, if you’ll let me.”

a hush falls upon the both of them, and there isn’t anything said or heard for a few moments’ time. komaeda stares at hinata, eyes wide and face red. and hinata stares back, bashful, but evidently honest. and slowly, komaeda lifts his hand to hinata’s shoulder, and his other hand intertwines with hinata’s own, and he does not say anything more, leaning forward the same time that hinata does, a kiss saying a million more things than either could explain. and yet, komaeda finds himself pulling back, to smile at hinata as if he is the most precious thing in the world – which, to komaeda, he is.

“i love you too, hinata-kun.”

[iatasbcl]

House of Horrors

Pairing: RK900 x Reader

Warnings: Angst, Gore, violence, torture, one-sided relationship, verbal and physical abuse, AU, whole lotta things going on here

A/N: So, I played Outlast: Whistleblower and have been in a horror-y mood ever since. Nines’ personality was heavily inspired by Eddie Gluskin so He ain’t nice here and is basically a yandere (?) pos, enjoy!

W.C: 2.8k

Fear used to be something you felt when you saw a small spider crawling in your room. Panic was just that awful sensation that you would feel when you met someone new. Dread was the feeling that consumed you before any meetings you had with your superiors.

Oh, how you wished those simpler things were what caused your heart to pound in your ears. No, things just had to turn so sinister. You were an employee, you hardly felt like you were of any worth in the massive corporation that was CyberLife, but hey, it paid the bills.

You wanted to smack your past self for being so naïve, for not seeing what was right in front of her. A megacorporation that created androids needed technicians for a secluded project, how did you not think it was shady?

It didn’t matter. You were stuck here with countless CyberLife employees’ bodies, many torn apart and twisted in the most gut-churning way. You were alone here with no possible way to protect yourself from them.

Them. The defective androids. This center was made as a ‘replacement’ for the android dumpsters in Detroit as an effort to gain the world’s trust back after the failed revolution led by the RK200 model. It was only the pretty front they put up for the world, androids that came here were ‘fixed’.

They would take the deviants and perform those weird experiments on them ranging from playing with their memories to messing up their entire head and making it into something much more horrifying. You shouldn’t have cared, everyone said those were just machines that didn’t feel pain or anything from the crude treatment.

Then why did they scream? Why did they beg? Why did they break?

Why did CyberLife even fund something like this? Was your race truly so horrible? Inflicting horrors upon horrors on beings that seemed to feel just for the sake of it like they were sadistic hunters.

The androids somehow got out and many did not show mercy to their torturers, killing them and ripping them apart like they were nothing. A part of you did not feel pity for them, they too were monsters.

You only started working here two weeks ago and you never stood for the things they did. But you were a nobody, a nobody who probably wouldn’t find another job in this economy.

And that’s how you ended up here, breaths ragged and heart-pounding as you frantically tried to quiet yourself. You slowly took out your camera and turned it to night vision. It was an older model from the 10s that you found in your coworker’s desk, you silently thanked Maria and hoped she was okay.  No one was here, you let out a sigh.

“You let me violate you.”

You almost shrieked, fuck, fuck. He was here and he was close. His sickening yet beautiful voice would sing that song as he walked around, searching for a lover. Searching for you.

“You let me desecrate you.”

You lower your camera as you peek through the slots of the tight locker, you could see his red LED flashing in the dark. You held your breath again when stood right in front of you and thanks to the light coming from his temple you could see him baring his teeth at you, like a rabid animal.

“Found you, pet.” With that, the locker was flicked open and you inventorially screamed, trying your hardest to push him away but all that got you was a rough shove towards the floor.

“Now, now,” You picked yourself up and tried to back off, but you felt something hit your head and the world around somehow became darker and thus you drifted away.

“I have so much to show you, my little rabbit.” Was the last thing you heard before completely blacking out.

You awoke in a chair, tied and bound in what looked like a hunter’s chamber, your camera was nowhere to be found. Some bodies were lying around, mutilated beyond recognition. It looked like it was the RK900’s work.

You knew of his model, a model designed to kill and hunt, a model created for destruction. You saw him being brought here when you first arrived, chained like he would lash out the moment he was set free. His blue eyes were breath-taking, and you wondered why CyberLife designed someone so visually pleasing for such purposes.

You looked at his file, model RK900, serial #313 248 317 – 87. Previously used in the D.P.D, the reason for the deviation was unknown. You passed by his cell once, out of sheer curiosity, the RK900 model wasn’t available everywhere and he was the first one to be brought here.

He was quiet, very quiet. He just sat on the white chair and stared down. You didn’t try to talk, you just observed. A state-of-the-art model reduced to nothing but a prisoner. “RK900?” You called; this would probably get you in trouble, but you just had to satisfy your curiosity.

“Are you alright?” You asked, hoping for an answer yet doubting the possibility of getting one. And you didn’t, you had sighed and simply left. That was your only interaction with him before the shit hit the fan, it didn’t explain why he locked you up and then chased you all over the place for the past hours when you managed to escape.

“My little rabbit.” God, you hated that voice. You glared at him as he approached you with a soft smile, it threw you off. “I am glad our little game of hide and seek is over,” he got closer and reached out for your face, “You are finally here, right where I want you.”

This was the first time you got to see properly him since the outbreak and he looked terrifying, to say the least. The right side of his face was stuck in different patches of white, his right eye looked damaged as his sclera was dark, almost black. His white shirt and pants were stained with blood, some of it looked fresher than the other.

“And that is?” you spat.

He laughed for the first time. “Oh, you sweet little thing.” His hand tugged your hair behind your ear and the contact alone sent shivers down your spine. You were afraid of being broken like the others; he was a combat android fully capable of twisting you in any way he pleased.

“You are yet to be perfect.” His words were cold. He retreated, going to a small table at the back of the room.

“Are you going to kill me?”

“Don’t be afraid, I’d never do something that terrible to you.” Something was menacing about what he said, probably the fact that he held a combat knife. Panic filled you now, and you desperately tried to break free, it proved to be useless.

“No, please. You don’t have to do this.” You whimpered but he approached you regardless, holding that thing in his hands like it was his little toy. “I do. You see, humans always have this fire in them,”

The knife neared your face and you shut your eyes tight, awaiting the worst. You screamed when it tore your skin, it wasn’t very deep or wide, but it still hurt like a bitch. “And the only way to extinguish that pathetic spark is to break them.”

The knife moved downward and dug deeper into your cheek. You tried to hold back, to not give this piece of shit the satisfaction of seeing his work’s effect on you. But you couldn’t, it hurt, it hurt so much. You wailed and clenched your hands into a tight fist, your eyes flowed with tears and you looked at him.

He didn’t even have that smug expression anymore, there was only emptiness. Unsettling, creepy emptiness. “Please, please, stop!”

He chuckled; a dark awful laugh barely hearable compared to your screams of pain. “I am afraid I can’t do that. This is your punishment for trying to leave me, you have to be a good girl and accept it.”

Your throat was sore and dry by the time he was done marking you. You didn’t cry anymore, only shook with small sobs as he stared at you. This was it; this was the end of you. You were going to die in this mess by the hands of some deranged lunatic. No, no. You were a fighter and this fucker won’t break this easily.

“Why me?” You wanted to lure him in, to make him believe you cared about him.

You saw him hesitate to answer, he was probably scanning you. He stepped back and went back to his table. “You are special.”

“How so, sir?” it was hard, trying to act like an innocent toy but you kept the act up for your sake. “Not many humans care about damaged merchandises.” He said as he wiped his bloody knife.

“You approached me when nobody else did, I wanted to make you mine ever since I saw you walk away.” Right. “Why are you even here?”

He stopped and you gulped, shit. “You weren’t as quiet as I would’ve liked you to be while taking your punishment, pet. You don’t get to ask any more questions.”

He came back to you and his hand brushed against your wound, causing you to flinch. “I didn’t want to do it, my love, but you left me no choice. Now, how about we start making you a beautiful dress?”

You knew it wasn’t a question, you were his toy for now and he will make you do whatever he pleased for. You nodded and he unrestrained you, you tried to get up, but you didn’t have any power left in you after hours of running and getting cut like a fucking piece of meat.

“You must be tired. Let me carry you.” He said and carried you like you were his bride, it made you feel somehow sicker. The light-headedness you experienced only got worse with every step he took, and you felt darkness consume you again.

“You let me penetrate you, you let me complicate you”

You groan when you hear him sing again, you didn’t want to hear his vile voice. “Ah, you are awake.”

You slowly opened your eyes and saw yourself in a mirror, he stood behind you with a menacing smile. You looked different, the wounded side of you face was stitched up with dried blood surrounding it, that did not look good. But most importantly, you wore a dress, a pretty dotted dress.

“di… did you change my clothes?” You whispered, he put his hand on your shoulder and pressed his lips to the top of your head, you almost gagged. “Of course, I made this for my beautiful wife.” His smile grew wider.

His wife?

“Do you like it, my love?” There was this dangerous edge to his voice, you knew what he wanted you to say. “Yes, sir.” He hummed and nudged you to get up. You did ever so slowly, having to rely on him to push yourself up.

Fuck, your plan to manipulate seemed to be a certain suicide, either that or it was going well. “Where are we going?” You asked sweetly, batting your eyes at him. “It’s a surprise.”

You follow him for five minutes between the rooms and halls of the center, there were so many bodies twisted in the most unimaginable ways, some had necks that were turned a 180°, some we decapitated, some were mutilated beyond recognition. You wanted to throw up.

“We are here.” The awful stench of the rest of the building disappeared when you entered the clear, bright room. It was weirdly… calming.

“This will be our home from now own. We will be together forever, you won’t be ungrateful like that bratty detective, right?”

Your heart quickened for the millionth time tonight, what was he even talking about? It didn’t matter. You knew that leaving this room will be impossible the moment that door is locked, you had to make your move, now.

“Thank you.” He looked relieved and relaxed; his eyes still held the same insanity to them. “I knew you would appreciate my love for you.”

He passed you and went on to tidy the bed, you looked around for anything you could use against and then you noticed it, a knife the door. Bingo. You slowly moved back and leaned down, taking the sharp weapon with ease as the android rambled.

“Other people never appreciated my gestures, he never liked how I protected him from this awful world. He just had to lash out, to try to abandon me for someone else. We could’ve been beautiful, but he practically wanted me to snap his pretty neck.”

You approached as your heart kept pounding and your mouth went dry. Was that why he was here? Did he murder his previous lover? You shook those thoughts off and tapped his shoulder. He paused and looked at you in question, you wrapped your arms around him.

“He sounds like an awful man.” You muttered and he returned your hug. “I knew you would understand me, my love.”

That was your moment to strike, you pulled the knife holding hand and struck it into his thiruim pump without giving him a chance to fight back. The knife easily damaged the thing and you heard RK900 curse before shoving you behind.

You fell and you saw him slowly descend to the ground. “You whore, you ungrateful bitch!” He shouted. You watch him for a moment before you realize this is your chance to bail, so you do. You got up quickly and took the knife with you and put it in your pocket. You panted as you ran towards the exit, you were so close, so close to freedom.

“Come back here!” You didn’t stop but did turn around a bit to see him struggling to follow you but being closer than what you thought, shit. You noticed one of the guard’s body and a gun beside it, you reached for it but were pulled back by a strong chokehold.

“Why did you turn out like him? Didn’t you love me?” You choke and gasp for air as his grip tightened, “I would’ve loved for all of eternity, you whore!” You try to push him as your vision darkened, your feet kicked in every direction in panic but then you remembered.

You took out the knife and you plunged it into his left eye, he stumbled back, and you rushed to the gun. You took hold of it and backed towards the wall. He took the knife out and looked at you, “I’m going to-“

You didn’t let him continue as you shot him between his eyes, another near his thiruim pump, and another and another. You stopped when you were sure he shut down and your heaving breathing finally calmed down. The fucker was dead.

“Hands in the air!”

You flinched as you did exactly what the voice said. You turned and saw SWAT members finally enter the building, “I am human.” You said and one of them scanned you, “Did you see anyone alive?” a bigger man asked you, you shook your head.

You assumed he was the leader, “Get her out of here and search the building. Terminate every android on site.” You were still on the ground when he helped you up and another took you out of there.

When you reached the exit, you noticed your camera laying on the ground, you pushed the man away and reached for it. It still worked and it had everything on it, all the pain and misery you went through for this shitty company and all the horrors it created.

They will pay, and you will make sure the world saw what they were.

[ohtheseboysilove]

The wedding bells. [Ben Hardy x F!Reader] III

Words : 3, 600 K +

Warnings : angst, cheating, alcohol, a bit of a fight

Summary :  Reader always been against marriage. Ben know that but ask her anyway. The fight which follow during the next months put their whole relationship between question marks. How two peoples can stay together when they don’t want the same thing for the future ?

☀ Masterlist ☀

More kisses had been exchanged. Sloppy, deep kisses. Your body was pressed against the wall, his throbbing erection poking against your thighs, hands roaming on your body. He had called a taxi and you were heavily making-out as you were waiting for it. You groaned and hissed a bit when he left a purple love bit on your neck, making you pushing away a bit, sending a warning look. He chuckled and pressed back his lips on yours instead, making you silent. Suddenly you jerked back violently when his hand reached yours panties, rubbing two fingers on your clothed center. You loved that normally but with Ben. You felt like a shock of electricity hit you roughly.

What were you doing ?

Nathan furrowed his brows at your reaction but grabbed your hand when he saw the taxi stopping few meters away. You didn’t move, chest heavily panting.

“The taxi is here, honey. Come on” His grip tightened, sending shivers of fear to your body. “(Y/N), fucking hell what are you doing ? The taxi not gonna wait forever !” You shook your head negatively and freed your wrist, taking step back from him.

“I shouldn’t have done that” You murmured, shame drowning you. If there was a little bit of hope to save your couple you just crushed it into ashes. Fucking dumbass you were. “Oh my god, he’s going to hate me so much” You sobbed between your hands, body shaking at the reality of what just happened.

You cheated on Ben. You kissed another man and let him touched you. And accepted to go home with him. You didn’t recognise yourself anymore.

Your head was spinning from all the alcohol you drank earlier, stomach twisting with sickness. You just wanted to go home.

“(Y/N) ? Are you okay ?” Nathan tilted his head on the side, trying to get a glimpse of your face. “Let me take you to your place, you’re clearly not in state to go by yourself”

“Leave me the fuck alone !” You spat, your shaky fingers reaching for you phone in your handbag, quickly unlocking it to call Ben. He only answered after three attempts with a groggy voice.

“Yeah ?” You felt more tears rolling at your boyfriend ‘s voice. You shouldn’t even call him right now. “(Y/N) ?” He sounded a bit more awake, worried by the noises escaping your mouth. Sobs. “Are you okay ?”

“No” You chocked out, feeling your chest compressed at the view of Nathan, waiting next to you, he didn’t want to leave you alone in your state. “I drank too much and I— I did something really stupid” You hiccuped loudly, a sudden urge to throw up churning your stomach.

“Where are you ?” You could hear him getting dressed in the background, the sound of his belt echoing in the quiet room. “Are you safe ? Baby, what’s going on ?”

You put a hand on your lower belly, making sure you wouldn’t vomit if you opened your mouth and croaked out a weak answer, “I’m okay, I am with Nathan outside The Queen crown”

“Nathan ? This asshole from your work ? What the fuck are you doing with him ?” Ben groaned, sliding random shoes and grabbing his keys, practically running to his car.

Ben knew Nathan very well. They had arguments few times, nothing physically but the blond hated the way he looked at you, his eyes screaming of much he wanted you.

“I…we…we kissed and…” Your confession was burning your throat, shame rolling over you. “I’m so sorry Ben ! I shouldn’t have do that, I feel so awful, I—”

“You kissed him ?” The British was driving, knuckles white at how hard he was gripping the steering wheel. He took a deep breath, he needed to stay focus on his driving but the anger was boiling inside him.

“Yes” You murmured guiltily, crying quietly against the phone as Ben stayed silent. “I’m sorry Ben, it meant nothing” It was true, the attention he gave you was the only thing you were craving for, it just happened to be coming from Nathan.

“It mean something to me” The blond replied, in a cold whisper, the hurt barely hid in his tone.

You kept apologised but the blond stayed quiet, saying that he  was shocked was an understatement. He never even crossed his mind that you could be unfaithful to him, never. And here he was now, the perfect fool, going to pick up his cheating girlfriend because he was worried for her safety.

“You can still come at my place, you know” Nathan shrugged, eyes diving in your neckline and couldn’t believe you let this pig touched you. “I can take a good care of you, honey” One of his finger brushed against your bare shoulder and you took a step back, stumbling on your feet.

“You should leave before Ben see you”

The brunette chuckled and came closer to you, smirking.

“I’m not afraid of your boyfriend, he won’t do anything to me. But he will certainly dump you tonight, you should really come home with me” His hand squeezed your forearm and you slapped it. “You’re such a bitch, teasing me all evening to ditch me right before we go to my place…fucking slut you are” He spat, his coated-honey tone changing in an exasperated one, feeling you weren’t going to cave in again.

“Get the fuck away from me, you freak” You grunted. “I said get—”

His fingers harshly grabbed your face, lips pressing roughly on yours before turning your face, side facing the wall and crushing it against the cold briques. His mouth went back on your jaw, attacking your skin with his teeth.

“I know you want that too, I can feel it. You just need a little push, right honey ?” He murmured against your neck, ignoring your fingers pushing away his face from you.

“Don’t fucking touch me !” Your cried, feeling sick at the feeling on his caresse on your hips, praying the gods that Ben was almost there.

The gods answered your pleading for once. You recognised Ben’s car who brutally stopped at your level, not even parking correctly before you saw him get out of the car, looking like an angry bull.

“You’re so fucking dead !” He yelled and Nathan took a step back, raising his hands in surrender but the smirk was still on his features. “Do not bloody touch her, asshole !” He shoved him brutally against the wall, chest panting and fist dangerously twitching.

You wiped away the saliva from your neck and stumbled few meters away, taking deep breaths to calm your heavy crying.

“Trust me mate, she wanted that as much as I do” The brunette replied cockily, not giving a damn about Ben’s red face, a big blue vein throbbing on his neck. “She was ready to go home with me, wrapping her pretty lips around my c—” The blond punched him squared in the jaw and let him fall on the ground, controlling himself to not wrecking him right now.

The brunette chuckled, wiped the stream of blood from his mouth, satisfied to have made him angry. He made out with his girl, the blond could punch him as much as he wanted, it was done.

“She is fucking wasted ! You don’t touch drunk girl, freaking bastard” The British glanced at you, putting his anger against you aside for now, it was only time to go home. “(Y/N), let’s go back home”

He walked to your frame, you were keeping your balance with a shaky hand against the wall, eyelashes blinking furiously at your spinning head. You didn’t say a word, letting Ben pushing you in the car, putting the seatbelt on for you.

The only sounds in the vehicle during the way back home were your quiet sobs and Ben’s heavy puffing, a cigarette sliding between his fingers as he drove. The blond carried you once in the stairs as you couldn’t go far with your weak legs. Still completely silent. You buried your face into his shoulder, soaking his tee-shirt. He didn’t push you away, even if you could feel how tense he was from your proximity. He probably hated you.

The British held you until you fall asleep in your shared bed. As much as he wanted space from you, he couldn’t just leave you alone, not after Nathan’s behaviour toward you, kissing you against your wishes, your fear was pretty obvious.

When you woke up the next morning, hungover and with swollen eyes, Ben wasn’t with you anymore. You didn’t know if you were reassured to hear the blond outside the room, apparently cooking, or if you would rather prefer wake up in an empty flat. You felt so ashamed, you weren’t sure you couldn’t exit the room and faced Ben.

After ten good minutes of self encouragement, you pushed open the door and quietly reached the kitchen where Ben was busy, making eggs and bacon. His back was facing you as you sat timidly on one of the stool, in front of the bar and pinched your bottom lip, not sure what to do next. You moved your gaze from him when he turned around, putting his food in a plate and grabbed a fork from the drawer, in a deadly silence.

That when you eyes noticed one of your and Ben’s little suicase waiting on the dinner table, surely filled with his clothes and personal belongings.

“Are you leaving me ?” You murmured, fighting back a sob.

The blond didn’t say a word before he slowly chewed his food, swallowing then wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. He also took a agonisingly long sip of his tea, you were sweating with fear at his lack of answer. Finally he looked at you and replied with a bitter voice.

“I should, right ? I should fucking leaves your cheating ass. You would be giving me hell right now if the situation was the other way around” Should. At least it seemed like he didn’t take any decision. Not yet. You bowed your head in shame and felt tears filling your eyes. He was hurt because of you.

“I’m sorry Ben” You murmured, a quiet sniffle leaving your nose, gaze still staring blankly at the bar.

“I don’t give a shit that you’re sorry. That doesn’t solve the problem. Sorry doesn’t change the fact that you fucking cheated on me !” He slammed his fist on the kitchen counter, making you jumped. “Why did you do that ? Why did you decide to throw in the thrash six years of relationship for this fucker ?” He never spoke to you this coldly, pure hatred in his words, sinking in your heart painfully. But you deserved all of his anger.

“I don’t know” You replied weakly, your throat tightening with guilt. You ruined everything. First saying no to his proposal and secondly with acting like a cheating bitch. You could have everything and now you ended with probably nothing.

Ben scoffed at your poor answer, throwing furiously his dirty plate in the sink.

“You don’t know why you cheated on me with your work colleague ? You did it just like that for fun ? Or because maybe you were bored ?” He said sarcastically, clearly looking for a fight. But you wouldn’t give one. You couldn’t. The only thing you could do right now was crying, regret eating you alive. “Fucking answer me ! You own me an explanation at least !” He yelled suddenly and you glanced at him, face soaked with tears.

“I…I didn’t want to do that” You stuttered, wiping away a stream of tears rolling down your nose.

“Did he forces you ? The first time ? Or were you consenting ?” Both of you knew the answer, you told him on the phone but he wanted to hear directly from you, face to face. You shook negatively your head, admitting your fault. “Fucking unbelievable” He spat. “What about what he said when I arrived ? She was ready to go home with me...was he lying ?” The tiny hint of hope in his voice crushed you but you couldn’t lie, he deserved the truth, even if it hurt him.

“No” You whispered as more tears rolled on your burning cheeks, watching the love of your life’s face broke down, his heart being tearing out of his chest by you.

He nodded slowly, disgust covering his face.

“I can’t believe I wanted to marry you, fucking fool I am” Wanted. In the past. His words stabbed you right in the chest, a strangle cry leaving your throat. “My mother warned me about you, saying you weren’t good enough for me and I fought her about that, so many times...she is gonna laugh right on my face” He chuckled bitterly.

“Don’t do that Ben, please, don’t break up with me. I love you so much, it was a stupid mistake !” You walked to him, feeling your whole body shaking with fear. “Your mom is right, I don’t deserve you, I’m such a horrible person” He looked at you without any expression on his face, arms crossed on his chest. “I would never forgive myself, never. But please Ben, I would do anything to save our couple, I will marry you !” The second the words left your mouth, you knew it was the most stupid thing you could have said.

“Marrying me ? You would marry me to be forgiven after cheating on me ?” He let out a real laugh, his fingers rubbing his chin as he looked at you, amused. “And when I think it couldn’t be worse, you open your mouth and prove me wrong” The blond shook his head. “Amazing”

“That not what I mean Ben–“

“You really think I want to marry you after that ? You’re the fucking last person I would marry right now” He spat furiously, he wasn’t amused anymore. Hurt. Angry. Disappointed. “And bloody stop crying !” It only made you sobbed harder, you hated when Ben was angry with you and this time was worst than anything else. You couldn’t think about a worst moment of your life than right now. Watching your couple falling apart, totally faulty and useless.

“I’m sorry” You whimpered, rubbing roughly your eyes, trying to stop the tears from escaping but you just couldn’t.

“I swear if you say sorry one more time, I’m really going to lose it” The blond clenched his jaw, hands gripping harshly at the kitchen counter. You bit your bottom lip really roughly, keeping the noise of your cries quiet. “You have no fucking right to cry ! No reason either, you ask for it ! I should be the one crying, not you. I always been here for you, supporting you all this years and then, oh selfish me! I did the mistake to ask you to marry me” He was out of breath, looking at you like you were nothing else than a parasite.

“I know what I did is unforgivable, but– but you aren’t perfect either !” You yelled back, completely breaking down. You didn’t have anything else to lose anyway.

Ben arched his eyebrows and slid his tongue on his lips, his nostrils fully dilated with anger.

“Excuse me ? Are you trying to say it’s my fault if you cheated on me ? You’re fucking unbelievable” He commented, a little chuckle escaping his mouth, gobsmacked by your audacity.

“No ! But Ben, I refused your proposal then what did you do after ? You ignored me for the last three months ! Acting like our couple was already dead and buried !” You cried, pouring your heart out, thing that you contained yourself to do during these past month. “I felt like it was just a matter of time before you dump me ! I never felt so lonely than these last weeks, even more than when you’re away for work, I felt like shit and you didn’t comfort me about it, not once !”

He stayed silent for a whole minute as you were trying to collect yourself, your face soaked with salty tears, your eyes painfully swollen. You thought for a second that maybe his silence wa a good sign, he understood a bit. You were wrong.

“You felt bad ? Can you take a guess of how I felt after being rejected by the woman I love with all my heart ?” His eyes were glassy but he wiped them angrily, his chest puffing up and down quickly. “I knew you were against marriage, I understand that most of the weddings you know ended in total failure but I really, really thought we were different. I thought that maybe you would believe in us !”

You batted your lashes nervously, feeling incredibly small in front of angry and hurt Ben. His points were definitively good. You were even more of a bitch that what you thought.

“You crushed me that day (Y/N), I didn’t know how to act after that. I was ashamed and feeling like I did something wrong, I couldn’t even convince my girlfriend of six-years that our couple could survive marriage” He breathed deeply. “All my mates are getting married after two years of relation or less but us...you didn’t even wanted to give us a chance. How we are supposed to continue after that ? You’re clearly not believing in us on the long-term speaking !”

It took him three months to finally spat how he was feeling about your rejection, he was usually the one who easily talk about his feelings but this time it was too painful. He did it after being pushed over the edge. As just as you.

“But that exactly what you don’t get Ben ! I do believe in us, I believe in us more than anything ! That why marriage seemed useless for me, we were Ben and (Y/N), in love and that what perfectly enough !” He opened his mouth to speak but you shushed him furiously. “We speak about our future all the time ! Our kids, their names, we fight about the place where we would retired or even the fucking breed of our dog !” You throat was hurting you from the crying and yelling but you knew on this point you were right. “You can blame as much as you want for that kiss but you can’t say I don’t believe in us about long-term, I always imagined my future with you and no one else !”

Ben lowered his gaze on the floor, thinking about yours words.

“But suddenly all of this, our future together wasn’t enough for you anymore” He looked back at you as you voice broke, he couldn’t remember see you more hurt than at this exact moment. “I wasn’t enough anymore” You buried your face in your hands, crying loudly and deeply. You couldn’t talk, sobs continually leaving your mouth. “(Y/N), the girlfriend isn’t enough anymore for you, after six years you were done with me. Now you want (Y/N) the wife, but it will still be me, the marriage is a piece of paper and after that nothing gonna change, I won’t change. If I’m not enough now, I won’t be enough after a wedding. You say you don’t see how we can continue together after that ? It’s your choice Ben, I was truly happy with what we had but not you, not anymore. You want more and I can’t give it to you, I...gave to you all my love and energy, everything because I’m madly in love with you and it’s not enough ! I have nothing else Ben”

You were exhausted and totally broken, your heart positively tore in hundred of pieces. The blond was crying too. Quietly. The realisation of how much he hurt the last months drowning him. He made you felt like shit, not enough to be loved. But he couldn’t forget what you did to him in return. You cheated on him. How could he trust you again after that ?

“So this is why you cheated on me ? To make me suffer as much as I did during the last months ?” He asked bitterly and you were positively livid at his remark.

“Of course it’s not ! It was a mistake, I had too much drinks and this asshole was paying attention to me, something that didn’t happen to me for too long, my own boyfriend ignoring me and making me feel guilty for something I shouldn’t feel like that” You replied with exhaustion. You were tired to justify yourself, you couldn’t say much more, everything was out. “I shouldn’t have done that, I know but I’m willing to do anything to get your pardon Ben, if you let me” You said, a hint of hope sparkling in your gaze.

The british swallowed, his Adam's apple bobbing loudly. His fingers drumming nervously on the counter, he was thinking. But your teary eyes on him was too much to handle, making him weak.

“I’m gonna stay at Gwil’ for few days” He walked to the living-room and grabbed the suitcase, sliding his keys in his pockets. “I need to think about it, see if I can trust you again” His eyes fell on your neck, staring at the purple love bite that Nathan gave to you last evening, grimacing slightly. “I don’t know if I can”

You nodded and watched him opened the door.

“I love you” You murmured as he entered the hallway. His gaze met yours but he didn’t answer and instead, closed the door behind him, leaving you alone.

Alone again.

**

Tag list : @mercurycrowley @jennyggggrrr @luvborhap

[astarryon]

Better Off Chapter Two

Pairing: Klaus Hargreeves x Reader

Warnings: language, mention of addiction, gunfire

Word count: 6k

A/N: This one feels sooo long lmfao. A lot of stuff goes down in this one, and you get to see what Diego thinks of all this! Thanks for all the love, and I hope you enjoy! If you have any questions or comments, feel free to send them my way!

Chapter One

It wasn’t something he’d been prepared for.

Seeing you again... it came with a lot of complicated feelings. Anger was first, as well as most prominent, but that could only be expected, all things considered. It would probably be more concerning if he wasn’t at least a little bit pissed. Probably the most fucked up thing was that he felt hurt more than anything else. He didn’t much care that you had done what you had, it just bothered him that he hadn’t been enough of what you wanted for you to not.

Was that pathetic? Maybe. And it certainly didn’t change anything, either.

But then there was the other part of him — bigger than he thought it should be and surprisingly eager given the circumstances — absolutely buzzing with delight at the sight of you, if only because he could see it all. In your eyes, he found the warmth and kindness you used to wrap around him like a blanket. In your smile, there was that mischievous little quirk to your mouth as you told him not to worry so much about things he couldn’t control as he expressed concern over whether his father would catch the two of you together. In the way your hips unintentionally swayed as you walked toward him, he could see the first time you’d ever allowed him to run his hands over your bare skin, sweet and clumsy and shy.

As much as Klaus had tried to forget, it had been in vain. The sheepish beginning, the heartbreaking end, all of it was just... there.

That was why it hurt so bad, he was pretty sure. You’d been his first taste of desire — or, rather, wanting to be desired. Klaus had never known what it was to be wanted before you came along and insisted he allow you to be his best friend. He meant little to his siblings, even less to his father, and he had few delusions about those facts. And then you just appeared one day, far too happy to spend your nights in a mausoleum or use your power to walk up to his bedroom window if it meant you got to claim him. Why you had wanted a silly thing like that, Klaus was never sure, but he’d gotten used to it all too quickly.

“You’re staring.”

The words snapped him out of his reverie, and Klaus blinked hard. As his focus cleared and his sight came back, memories rushing away like some awful breeze, he found that his gaze had been trained on the bare patch of skin at the center of your collarbone. That had certainly thrown him for a loop back at the nightclub; years might have passed, but your image was still so clearly ingrained in his mind. The absence of that familiar silver shimmer had left an odd sort of ache in his chest.

But then, that ache had nothing on what it felt like to finally be able to touch you again.

“You look different,” he muttered by way of explanation. The last word came out wrong — like it was some kind of insult to be thrown at you. Klaus hadn’t meant it that way, but between the adrenaline from seeing you and his ecstasy high beginning to fade, he could hardly be held responsible. “I don’t... I don’t know. You just changed.”

He had to physically stop himself from adding without me to the end of that one. Between making you think he was hallucinating you and tricking you into that kiss, Klaus was pretty sure he’d used up his allotted guilt trips for the evening. Or, morning. Hard to keep track with his head spinning like it was.

Your eyes flicked over to his, momentarily holding his gaze before flashing back to the road. That distraction wouldn’t last long; there were only a few streets left until the two of you hit Diego’s.

“I didn’t change, Klaus,” you sighed. He liked the shape your mouth gave to his name, the slight annoyance overshadowed by hesitant fondness. That, at least, was the same as when you were children — one of the few things he could take comfort in. “I’m still the same, I just... I just grew up.”

And this time, against his better judgement, he didn’t bother to put himself in check.

“Yes, you most certainly did, bird.” Klaus reached over to run the pad of his index finger along the bare strip of your wrist; he didn’t miss the shiver you gave in response, or the little hitch in your breath at his touch. “You grew up and lived your life and you did it all without me. Just like you wanted, right?”

The GPS chimed to alert that the two of you had made it to your destination, but with as much tension as was filling the car, it may as well have stayed silent.

Klaus watched you open your mouth, then close it again. Words were at the tip of your tongue, just begging to tumble out of you like he remembered them doing before you’d gotten so careful, but after a moment you seemed to swallow them and move on. In spite of all that, Klaus noticed the whitening of your knuckles as you gripped the steering wheel tighter. Was it terrible that he could find delight in the fact you still had your temper.

Klaus watched you swing a hard left, neatly parking the car just off the curb. There was something there, in the set of your jaw, something that told him he was lucky you had been driving when he’d chosen to pick this fight. The initial shock of your reunion had gotten him out of the consequences for lying about the hallucination, and it was probably guilt that won him leniency with that earlier kiss. Distantly, he wondered how much more it would take to get you to slap him.

You leaned closer to him, jaw clenched and anger just barely contained. A shadow of your former self — volatile, defensive, and all too certain — was suddenly making an appearance. “Let’s get one thing straight,” you snapped, unflinchingly looking him in the eye. “You know fuck all about what I want.”

And then you were out of the car, slamming the door shut behind you as you stomped your way toward the entrance to the gym, not even giving Klaus so much as a chance to respond before you were gone.

Funny how some things never seemed to change.

—

It took you three tries to pick the lock before you successfully gained access to the boxing gym. Normally you wouldn’t hesitate to own up to that — it wasn’t your best skill, and never had been, but tonight? Oh, no. Tonight you had about as good an excuse as you ever came across.

Christ, Klaus was aggravating. More than, actually; that didn’t quite do it justice. The guy was mind numbingly infuriating. Did you feel bad for what had happened in the past? Obviously. Would you do anything you could to make that up to him? Of course. Did that mean you were willing to just lie down and freely take his abuse?

Fuck. No.

Klaus leaned down, chin just a few centimeters shy of resting on your shoulder. Part of you jumped at the sudden proximity, yearning for the familiar warmth of his skin. The other part was resisting the urge to elbow him in the stomach to get him to back off. Touch was fine, something he had needed since he was young, but he’d been abusing it tonight and had lost his privileges with you. “Want me to do that?” he slurred, hot breath fanning over your ear.

You grit your teeth, working the lock pick harder. “I want you to back up,” you muttered, trying to lean away. It was no use; your options were to press up against the door or lean back into Klaus. Son of a bitch had you trapped. “Do you mind?”

“You’re angling that wrong. It’s never gonna work that way.”

“Klaus,” you warned.

“Well, I’m just saying—“

The lock sprung, and you were on your feet and moving in, not bothering to wait for Klaus as he trailed in behind you. Tears of frustration were threatening to spring to your eyes, but you forced yourself to push them down. There wasn’t any time for weakness, especially not if you were about to throw yourself in front of Diego Hargreeves and simultaneously beg for mercy and assistance.

Besides... did you really have a right to be upset with Klaus? He was only speaking the truth, horrible as it was to hear. 

“Where’s your necklace?”

You kept walking, falling back to let Klaus guide you in the right direction; you could see a lot of well used equipment and a boxing ring, but no sign of the knife wielding terror you were meant to seek out. Briefly, you wondered if Klaus was lying about his brother staying here, but you put that out of your mind quickly. This was Klaus, your Klaus. Even pissed out of his mind and bitter beyond belief, he would never steer you wrong.

“I don’t think now’s the time,” you mumbled, crossing your arms to fight your impulse. All you really wanted to do was hold his face in your hands and cry, but his behavior told you that wasn’t going to happen any time soon. Not that you blamed him. “Why don’t we talk about that later?”

“No offense,” he drawled, pausing to whirl around to you. The sheer weight of his gaze was crushing, and you found yourself unable to step away. “But how can I be sure there’s even going to be a later?”

Fair enough.

“Klaus,” you sighed, staring up at him. It was all you could do not to reach out and grab his face, just to really drive home how serious you were. You would probably get away with it — Klaus himself had done much more than cradle your cheeks in the last hour. But, then, it was better not to tempt yourself. Wouldn’t have been fair to either of you anyway. “I’m not... you’ve gotta know I’m not abandoning you again, right?”

But he was already turning away, averting his gaze and closing himself off again. Jesus; with how quickly Klaus switched between hot and cold, whiplash seemed almost inevitable. “Well, you know what they say,” he called back to you, disappearing down a narrow hallway. “Fool me once and all of that.”

You followed in his direction, clenching your fists down at your sides. Was it wrong of you to be angry right now? It was hard to blame him for being skeptic; you knew that you were being sincere, but Klaus had no reason to think so. What was it, five years of good will that you’d thrown down the drain? Four years of friendship, one of love, and all for what? Because his father—?

A loud banging startled you clear out of your train of thought, causing you to jump three feet in the air; you thrust your arms out in front of you reflexively, choking on the swear caught in your throat. By the time you realized your power had been triggered, Klaus was held down by the force of it, slammed against the door he’d just been knocking on with his arms pinned above his head.

The expression he wore was downright miffed. “Alright, this shit was cool back in the day when we were kinky little shits, but I’m mad at you right now. Let me go.”

“I’m sorry,” you sighed, flipping the mental switch and releasing him. “You scared the shit out of me, okay, I just— just, sorry.” You paused a moment, just now registering what he’d said to you, and retorted, “For the record, you were the kinky one.”

“Oh, please,” Klaus shot back, absentmindedly eyeing you up and down. “I seem to remember someone getting a little too excited about the idea of fooling around in a cemetery.”

Jesus, you could not believe what you were hearing right now. “Okay, first of all, I was sixteen! I’d say that’s some pretty standard shit, wouldn’t you?”

“Uh, not when you can see all the ghosts watching you and your girlfriend try to—“

The end of his sentence was cut off by the sudden twisting of the doorknob. That was probably for the better; you definitely didn’t need a reminder of the stupid shit you and Klaus had gotten up to as teenagers, and especially not when you’d used those memories to torment yourself every night since you’d left. But, now? Now you had a whole other issue from when you were teenagers to deal with.

The wooden door opened, prompting you and Klaus to fall silent. Out popped Diego Hargreeves, half asleep and out of focus, but still just as imposing as he’d always been. Funny; where Klaus looked different from how you remembered him — too skinny for his frame, visibly exhausted beneath the heavy eye makeup, the gleam in his eyes you had always loved to see now missing — Diego looked oddly the same. Still well muscled, though not uncomfortably so, still poised like he was ready to start a fight in an instant, still handsome enough to get whatever he wanted.

It was pretty fucking annoying, truth be told.

He blinked against the harsh light of the hall, shielding his eyes with a hand that — notably — clutched a sleek, silver knife. He hadn’t noticed you yet, tucked behind Klaus as you were, and for that you said a prayer of thanks to whichever higher power had granted this small mercy. You could only imagine what his knee jerk reaction might have been if you’d greeted him instead of Klaus.

“You have any idea what fucking time it is, Klaus?” Diego grumbled, a powerful yawn possessing him suddenly. Distantly, you felt bad for dragging him out of bed at two in the morning; you weren’t sure what Diego had going on, but if he was anything like his brother, he definitely couldn’t have been getting enough rest. On the flip side, you were relieved, albeit for selfish reasons. Diego’s presence meant that you wouldn’t have to remain with Klaus in solitude, ensuring that there would be no more stunts that involved kissing, emotional turmoil, or backhanded guilt. “What are you doing here?”

Before you could even truly process what was happening, Klaus simply stepped back and to the side, wordlessly lifting a finger to point at you. He glanced between you and his brother, an awful smirk adorning his mouth as he watched the shift in Diego’s expression, realization dawning on his face as he worked out just who you were. A moment later, Klaus moved forward to step around his brother, entering the room and leaving you to Diego’s scrutiny.

Fucking traitor.

The flip in Diego’s demeanor was near instant, though you supposed you should expect nothing less from someone who spent their teen years training insistently. It wasn’t like you spent much time around Diego when you were younger — your days had always been explicitly dedicated to your relationship with Klaus — but you remembered enough to know that the way he was looking at you now was especially malicious. It was predatory and dark, fiercely protective and terrifyingly accusatory.

Everything Klaus deserved out of someone who cared about him, and unfortunately nothing you were able to give him yourself.

“You’ve got a lot of nerve,” Diego muttered lowly, crossing his arms over his chest and cocking his head to the side. Jesus; twelve years hadn’t made him any less of a self righteous bastard, apparently. “Where do you get off, showing up here like nothing happened?” You didn’t much care for the way the silver point of the knife was twirling idly between his fingers.

“No offense, D,” you sighed, resisting the urge to pinch the bridge of your nose. Diego immediately bristled at the use of your old nickname for him; it was hard to blame him. Nicknames were familiar, for people who could be trusted, and you had done nothing to be worthy of Diego’s good graces in the last decade. Quite the opposite, actually, considering you’d torn his brother’s heart out of his chest and spat on it. Brushing past him and ducking into the tiny little room, you continued, “But I really don’t think I can do witty rat bastard tonight. There’s too much going on, and the sooner I catch you up, the sooner I can leave.”

“Oh, so you’re leaving again,” Diego spat, following in your steps. There wasn’t much space for that, but then, this was Diego you were dealing with. Dude would take any opportunity to be as dramatic as the situation would allow for. “Okay, well. Good to know you’re consistent, at least.”

You didn’t like what Diego’s tone implied. You understood why he was upset; really, you did. But you’d already gotten a massive load of shit from Klaus — who had taken it upon himself to not only pretend to hallucinate you, but had also kissed you in an effort to make you feel even shittier and insult your integrity further on the car ride here. In perfect honesty, you weren’t sure how much more shit from a Hargreeves sibling you could take; your quota was just about maxed.

You crossed your arms over your chest, biting your tongue. The old you, the one that hadn’t been swimming in guilt for the past twelve years, the one who had been just about to make an appearance while fighting with Klaus over picking the fucking gym lock, would have lit into Diego with little caution or remorse. He had been kind enough when you were younger, and had never said a word to anyone else on the nights he caught you sneaking in through Klaus’ window, but he was also a bit too judgmental for your liking. Would’ve been easy to knock him down a peg, but... well. Your heart just wasn’t in it these days.

“Something you wanna say to me?” you prompted when Diego simply continued staring you down. The words came out defensively, and you hated how guilty you sounded.

“Depends,” he shot back, matching your intensity. “You planning to fuck my brother again?”

“Well, if she is, it’s definitely not in the fun way,” Klaus called from the other side of the room where he was rifling through Diego’s things. It was easy enough to imagine the shit eating grin that would be present in his face.

You immediately winced, the dirty joke catching you by surprise, and you saw Diego grimace as he realized the misstep in his words. The two of you shared a mutual look of discomfort, and then the moment was gone like smoke in the wind.

“You know,” you whispered, glancing back at Klaus and frowning in worry. Not for the first time, you noted how worn out he looked. His words and actions spoke of eccentricity, but his face told another story entirely; that only solidified what you were about to do next. “Maybe we should talk abut this... outside?” Diego opened his mouth to protest, but you stopped him before he could. “Look, Klaus is really high, okay? And he... we had some issues on the way here. I just think we should wait to explain this to him until he’s a little more... you know, sober.”

Diego looked like he wanted to protest, but ultimately thought better of it. “Klaus,” he prompted, turning over his shoulder to eye his brother. You looked over as well, finding him propped against the wall, busting himself by absently and clumsily twirling a slim silver dagger between his fingers.

Oh, for fuck’s sake; with how high he was and whatever he was on, it was only a matter of time before he accidentally cut himself. Part of you instinctively wanted to chastise Diego for leaving the damn thing out, but you resisted. That shit wouldn’t fly, especially not in Diego’s own home.

“Maybe you wanna lay down?” Diego continued. You had to note the shift in tone, how much softer he’d made himself as he turned his attention to Klaus. That had to be new. You didn’t remember Diego being the biggest asshole in your youth, but he’d definitely never bothered to sugarcoat anything.

This, of course, begged the question — what the fuck had happened while you were gone?

“No,” Klaus responded, throwing the dagger up in the air and narrowly avoiding the blade biting into his palm. “No, I think I’m good.”

“Klaus,” you added before you could stop yourself. “I really think you should try and get some sleep.”

The resulting grin that split his face was both disingenuous and without humor. “No offense, sweetness, but I’m sure you’ll understand if I don’t take advice from you.”

Diego shot you a dirty look, one that clearly told you to back off. He took another step toward his brother, hands raised in a placating gesture. “Klaus, really. It’s late, and you should get some sleep. Y/n and I are just gonna step outside and talk about a few things. It really won’t take long.”

Klaus hesitated this time, and for a moment — just one moment, fleeting and breathless and earth shatteringly something — his eyes flicked over to you, and you saw everything. Hints of old affection that still managed to cling to his mind, fondness that was no doubt wilted but was still there. The look present in his eyes that split second, full of fear and wonder and childlike hope, it was... it was the same look in his eyes from the night you’d met. Not even on your worst nights, when all you could do was cradle yourself and sob as you imagined a better outcome for you and Klaus, not even then had you imagined Klaus could still look at you like that.

He didn’t hate you — he just needed time. It was a long shot, but maybe... maybe you could get it all back. Maybe you didn’t have to return to isolation.

Down at his side, Klaus’ fingers stopped fiddling with the dagger. When he looked at you this time, it was full on, and the emotion in his gaze had shifted to something you couldn’t quite name. “If I go to sleep, am I gonna wake up to you being gone again?”

Despite the fact that his question was a fair one, it seemed to cut you deeper than that knife in his hand ever could.

“You don’t have to worry about that,” you murmured. You tried to communicate your sincerity with your gaze, but it was doubtful that held much weight. Hard to imagine that Klaus could out any trust in you at this point. “I’ll be here as long as you want me.”

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep,” Diego shot your way. You opened your mouth to tell him to mind his business, but he was already turning back to Klaus. “Look, I’m not letting her leave without explaining herself, okay? But please, Klaus, you don’t look like you’re doing so great. Please just rest.”

He looked like he wanted to argue, but also understood this wasn’t a fight he was going to win. This was something Diego and you happened to be united on. With as rare as the two of you agreeing on something was, Klaus didn’t have a chance in hell.

Klaus rolled his eyes, letting the dagger in his hand clatter to the floor. “Great, yeah, cool,” he muttered. He didn’t spare either of you a second glance as he moved over to the cot in the corner, flopping down and rolling over. “You two have a nice time fist fighting, or... whatever it is you plan on doing.”

He looked small, curled up as he was now, and you were once again reminded of that night in the mausoleum, as well as the many spent in his bedroom, the two of you twisted together until you couldn’t make out where your limbs ended and his began. Part of you wanted to go to him now and relive those memories, but you fought the urge. Klaus had to set the pace; he’d be nothing but defensive if you got too familiar faster than he was comfortable with.

Diego grabbed your arm, jolting you out of your thoughts with his touch. You tried to protest, batting at his shoulder with what little resistance you could manage, but it was no use. He was too big and well muscled, and before you knew it, he had you shuffling out the door of his room and was leading you over to the boxing ring in the center of the gym — a safe enough distance that Klaus wouldn’t be able to hear your conversation. Once he was satisfied, he released his grip on you and crossed his arms over his chest, staring expectantly.

“Talk,” he said simply.

You opened your mouth to speak, then closed it again. What could you say? How did you justify your showing up unannounced? What would make him believe this was all worth while? You couldn’t beat around the bush, not with something like this. You had to tell the truth — it was what Klaus deserved. No sugarcoating, no bullshit, nothing. That, at least, you owed to him.

Taking a breath, you swallowed once before leveling Diego’s gaze with your own. “Klaus is in danger,” you muttered, pouring as much concern into your words as possible. Absently, you hoped you weren’t coming off as desperate. “There are people out there trying to kill him. I came as soon as I could to warn you.”

For having just told him that his brother was in danger of the lethal variety, Diego appeared to be surprisingly nonplussed. “Okay,” he allowed, narrowing his eyes. “I’ll bite. Who’s trying to kill him?”

“I’m not fucking joking, Diego, this is serious,” you insisted. You should have known he wasn’t going to put much stock into your words. “A few days ago, someone left a note on my front door. Said something called The Commission was after Klaus and that they needed him dead. Something about him being a liability to their plans? I dropped everything to come here and warn you.”

Diego blinked, clearly caught off guard. Yeah; that was what you thought. “Klaus is harmless,” he told you, lowering his voice to a mutter. “They wouldn’t be worried enough to come after him.”

“Don’t talk about him like that,” you snapped, rolling your eyes. “Jesus, Diego, we’re not kids anymore and he’s your brother. Can’t you put away your shitty superiority complex for one second and worry about him?”

“I’m not—“ He cut himself off, clenching his fist and swallowing his words, voice becoming dangerously low. “I’m not doubting you. Not that you’d know, but Klaus... he’s powerful, yeah. Apparently always has been. But he’s no more use to anyone dead than he is alive, because his powers...”

The realization hit you like a sack of bricks.

“The drugs,” you sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose. Of course. He’d said as much in the car, had implied that he’d been using with how often he hallucinated you; he’d even branded himself a junkie, not that you had fully understood at the time. “How long has he...?”

“Since you left,” Diego muttered. There was something in the way he looked at you, the way his lip curled like he was sucking on something bitter. It was the same way you’d looked at yourself in the mirror every day for the last twelve years. Diego was... not angry, no; that wasn’t severe enough a word. Diego was downright livid. “You really did a number on him.”

Like you needed to be reminded of the pain you’d inflicted. Obviously you hadn’t been around to witness the aftermath, but Klaus’ emotional state couldn’t have been too far off from your own. Everything was the same; same pain, same depression, same burning hole in the middle of your chest. But for Diego to accuse you of being the reason that Klaus turned to drugs? That wasn’t a blame you were willing to let him lay on you.

“Okay, I said this to Klaus, and I’ll say it to you. I’m not responsible for anything he’s chosen to do since I left.” Funny; the words had been heavy on your tongue when you’d screamed them at Klaus in the car, but weren’t quite so weighted now. Maybe you were getting used to saying them. Or, maybe it was because you hadn’t actually done anything wrong to Diego. Either way. “There was nothing I could have done.”

“You could have stayed,” Diego shot back. “Honestly, what did you think would happen? Was he supposed to just forget you? You should have known he wasn’t stable enough to handle that kind of loss, especially not after Ben!”

Oh, he was dangerously close to provoking a fight. It wouldn’t do you any good — would probably only make things worse. But Diego had no idea what he was saying, couldn’t have known that he was giving a voice to the darker thoughts living in your head.

“Diego,” you sighed, trying to figure out how to word it all. “Do you honestly think that I wouldn’t have stayed if I was able? If I knew what was going to happen to him? I’m not a psychic, okay? I can’t see the future. He and I liked to get drunk sometimes, and yeah, we smoked pot like three times. There weren’t any signs that he was... I didn’t know he had the addict gene. I did my best to stay, and it wasn’t enough, but I never would’ve abandoned him to become a junkie if I had known.”

The humorless laugh Diego barked out was so similar to Klaus’ that the sound was jarring. They may not have been related by blood, but they were certainly brothers.

“You know something?” he prompted, leveling you with an unforgiving glare. It didn’t match your mental image of him, wasn’t quite on par with how Diego looked in your memories. Between the number that adulthood had clearly done on Diego and Klaus, it was hard not to wonder how the rest of the Hargreeves had turned out. “You were it for my brother. The way he talked about you, the way he started looking forward to spending every night in the mausoleum because you would be there? I used to think he was making you up because there was no way that any of my siblings or I could have something that good. Klaus got dealt a shit hand in life, but you were the thing that made it all just a little more worth it. You wouldn’t know — mostly because I never bothered to say it — but I was grateful to you. You kept him grounded.”

For a moment, Diego’s cold mask cracked, and you saw beyond the tough guy vigilante facade he was always careful to maintain. Beneath that mask was an attentive older brother, one who cared deeply for his troubled sibling and would chase after anything to make that sibling happy. Gone was the illusion of a rough, jagged exterior, of the implication that he wished you harm. He was just a concerned brother, pure and genuine. That was all this was.

“Klaus,” you began, swallowing hard and looking away, “was probably the only thing I ever looked forward to. Mom died when I was seven, so I got chucked into foster care and bounced around a lot. I couldn’t use my powers unless I wanted people to think I was a freak, so I didn’t tell anyone about them. Jesus, I mean, I literally had to trespass in a cemetery and break into a mausoleum just to make a friend. But after that...” You raised your gaze, showing Diego a genuine, wistful smile. “After that he was the entire reason I bothered to do anything. Klaus was the only person who actually cared how I ended up. My foster parents were fucking terrible, and the social workers were shit at their jobs. My teachers never said much to me when I stopped showing up to school half the time. Klaus just kept checking in, and eventually I got so used to it that the idea of him stopping was... fucking terrible.” Your tone became wistful, mind beginning to whirl with memories from your youth. “He was the only good thing I had. I’m not being dramatic when I say that.”

The silence between the two of you was heavy, and you realized you’d led Diego down a path that could only end in him asking one question.

“If that’s true,” he murmured, sympathy seeping into his words, “then why did you leave?”

The words sprang to your lips before dying just as quickly. Twelve years; twelve years you spent training yourself not think about what Diego was asking. Mostly just because living with what you’d lost was easier if you could put the details out of your mind, but also because there was some fear attached to what might happen if you decided to tell anyone the truth. But then, this was Diego, wasn’t it? If there was anyone who could figure out away around the repercussions, it was definitely him.

And, besides; you and Klaus were no longer children. There was no way the consequences could hold the same weight as they would have ten years ago. That, at least, was the one good thing about adulthood.

“I left,” you whispered, squeezing your eyes shut and searching for any spare scrap of courage you could muster. “I left because of your father.”

Diego blinked, stunned to silence. When he finally managed to speak, it was with confusion and disbelief. “My father?” he repeated. “What does my father have to do with—?”

The plaster of the wall you were standing in front of suddenly exploded, bits of paint and wood splintering with a loud crack and covering you in a cloud of debris. It wasn’t until Diego had tackled you to the floor a moment later, seconds before another explosion of plaster, that you realized what was happening — or that, had you been standing an inch closer to him, the first bullet would have struck you directly in the throat.

“You okay?” Diego shouted, shifting to shield you from the barrage of buckets shooting into the wall above your heads. “Are you hit?”

“I’m fine!” you called back, hoping he could hear you. This wasn’t the time for panic, but fighting it off proved difficult. “What do we do?”

Diego opened his mouth, but cut himself off at the telltale sound of a heart stopping click. For a split second, you made eye contact, exchanging unspoken words. Surely this was just some dual hallucination brought on by stress or lack of sleep. Surely you hadn’t actually heard that noise.

But then the sinister sound of metal rolling against the floor followed, and before you could really register what was going on, you and Diego were scrambling to evade the grenade, tripping over each other as you attempted to right yourselves.

He was screaming — you could hardly blame him. It was clear you wouldn’t be getting away in time, and though you’d managed to become tolerable to each other in the last few minutes, there were certainly other people you would prefer to die with. But you couldn’t worry about that right now — you didn’t have the luxury. Your fight or flight response was kicking into high gear, and if you didn’t focus, things would be ending very shortly for you and Diego Hargreeves.

For a moment, you couldn’t feel it, and you were genuinely worried your ability had faded from disuse. Thankfully, though, the familiar tug of your power began cinching your sternum, and you managed to solidify a large patch of air to use as a shield just as the grenade blew.

The force of the explosion added to the effort required to maintain your shield was enough to physically pain you. Preventing your deaths was easy enough, thank god, but the effort was too great and your skill level was lacking; at the tail end of the impact, you lost your hold and the shield dropped. The explosion itself was over and done with, but the stinging fire suddenly shooting through your leg meant you hadn’t managed to avoid the shrapnel.

“Fuck!” you screamed, pained tears springing to your eyes. You could already feel blood beginning to bloom over the fabric of your jeans.

This wasn’t right; this had to be them. Whoever was coming for Klaus, whoever wanted him dead, they’d finally managed to track him down.

They’d come to kill him.

“Diego, we have to—“

“Can you walk?” he demanded, cutting you off. The bullets had stopped for the moment, but that wouldn’t last; you could hear a gun being conspicuously reloaded off in the distance. “You need to find Klaus, you hear me? Both of you get somewhere safe and stay there. Meet me at the academy in the morning — do not try and go until daylight hits.”

You blinked hard, trying to comprehend Diego’s words, shove down your panic, and ignore the searing pain trailing up your leg. “What? What about you?”

“I’m gonna go get the son of a bitch shooting up my fucking gym,” he answered. He grabbed your shoulders and met your gaze. It only lasted a second, but his meaning was clear. “Find my brother. Tell him what our dad did.”

And then Diego was gone, slipping down the hall in the direction the bullets had been shot from. You called out to him, but your voice was again stolen by the pain in your leg as you made to stand.

There was only one thing left to do now.

—

Better Off Tag List:

@pandalandalopalis @healojane @xcrqwley @byya525 @pensysto 

@onetwistedbutterfly @rebeccashideout​ @feelmyroarrrr @fandom-feelss @daddyloonglegss

[artificialqueens]

hunger. (behind closed doors part 1) [branjie] - evan

A/N 1: This is the first part of the Behind Closed Doors series. This time around, we all took a one-word prompt and turned it into a story, put them in chronological order, and posted them up. We’ll be posting one every day for the next 10 days until the series is complete. Enjoy!

A/N 2: Tried to make a vending machine transaction a lil sexy, hope you like it.

Summary:The first time, when it really starts, that’s in that little room in the hotel with the vending machines. (in which Evan tries to write from Vanessa’s perspective for once)

Word Count: 1,954

–

The first time isn’t in the van. It’s not on a smoke break, either. It isn’t at breakfast, it isn’t backstage, and it isn’t stolen in the hotel hallway. It’s definitely not in the Werk Room, not the one they show on TV. 

Nope. The first time, when it really starts, that’s in that little room in the hotel with the vending machines.

Vanessa, predictably, hates being cooped up in his hotel room. He’s got the windows open to hear the traffic outside, the TV always running so it feels like there’s someone to talk to, the curtains drawn so he can see buildings and lights and people even though they’re too far away and the Wendy’s sign across the street seems to be taunting him. It’s not enough. He’s considered taking up smoking just to be able to get some fresh air (ironic, yes) but he ultimately decides against it.

He’s gotta do something, though, can’t just keep sitting here and watching the damn news. It’s late and he’s hungry, so he gently cracks the hotel room door and peeks outside his room. 

“Miss Trisha!” he whispers into the hallway. The tiny PA tasked with keeping an eye on them for the evening comes scurrying around the corner.

“Hey! You know you can just call me Tri-”

“Can I get one of those room service menus? The ones you gave us for dinner yesterday?”

Trisha checks the clock on her phone. “They closed the kitchen at 11, I think. But there are some vending machines on the next floor down.”

Vanessa purses his lips. “Can I…”

“Yeah, sure, just come right back.” Trisha, an actual angel, gives him a small smile. 

Now. Vanessa knows not to take too much freedom for granted. He’s not coming anywhere close to fucking up a second chance. So instead of walking down every hall and stairwell, or running across the street to that Wendy’s to get some fries, he grabs a handful of quarters and heads directly down the stairs.

He searches for the vending machines and thinks about how jealous Silky is gonna be tomorrow, knowing all the fruit cups she started hoarding in her room. Vanessa can’t keep a secret to save his life, so he doesn’t consider that. But maybe he and Silk could buy out all the snacks and use them for trades or some shit.

And so he’s thinking about that and distracted by a sign with directions on the wall when he rounds the corner and almost walks directly into Brooke Lynn. 

He’s dressed from head to toe in grey sweats, and yet he still manages to look– well. Hot. Dangerously hot, distractingly hot, the kind of hot that pulled Vanessa’s attention away from his sewing in the first challenge and he later struggled to rip out the fucked up stitches by hand. Brooke’s eyes flash down a little, so fast Vanessa almost misses it. And he knows that look, fuck , it’s the kind of look he’d give Brooke if he saw him in a club out of drag. He tries to ignore whatever clicks in his chest. But he’s not very good at that. 

“Oh. Hey.” That’s how Vanessa chooses to condense those thoughts.

“Hey.” Maybe Brooke rolls his lower lip between his teeth, narrows his eyes, just for a second. Maybe Vanessa is seeing things.

“They just letting you wander the halls up here?” Vanessa asks.

Brooke rattles the pack of cigarettes in his hand as an answer. “I could ask you the same thing.”

“It’s snack time, bitch.” He smiles, cocky, and Brooke lifts his eyebrows. “You know where the vending machine’s at?”

“Yeah, around here, I think.” Brooke puts a hand on Vanessa’s shoulder and swivels him in the opposite direction. It’s a touch that lingers, and Vanessa notices. 

The vending machines are at the end of the other hallway, tucked in a small alcove. There’s no real door and a glaring fluorescent light. Vanessa knows he probably doesn’t look cute and he’s trying to look like he doesn’t care. Which must be working, because he can see in the reflection of the glass how Brooke props himself up against the back wall, watching him close. 

“You want something?” Vanessa slides quarters into the machine.

“Yeah, sure.” Brooke’s voice is careful, paced, intentional, frustrating . “What are you getting?”

“Sour Patch Children,” Vanessa says confidently, punching the buttons. 

Brooke snorts, actually snorts. It’s ugly, and he brings a hand up to his face as he laughs, and oh fuck he’s cute when he’s happy. “Isn’t it Sour Patch Kids?”

“Okay, kids, children, infants. I’m not a fucking candy scientist. You want some or not?”

Brooke nods, and Vanessa tosses him one of the packages of candy. 

And then it’s quiet. Vanessa doesn’t do quiet. He usually fills silences like they’re blanks in a Mad Libs, because every silence is some kind of opportunity. He’s at a loss for what to do now, because here’s the thing: Brooke oozes confidence. He’s posted against the doorframe, watching, not even pretending to be interested in the unopened candy in his hand. 

Vanessa pops a Sour Patch child in his mouth, digs through the package and picks out the green ones first, then the blue. Brooke doesn’t seem scared of silence, seems to own it instead. Vanessa can practically feel Brooke’s eyes on him and the tension in the air that’s ready to snap.

Vanessa also doesn’t do subtlety. It’s not in his vocabulary, and he wouldn’t know how to pronounce it if he tried. So he gets foolish (typical) and lets some words spill out of his mouth before thinking them all the way through.

“I see you looking at me.”

“Am I? Looking at you?” This coy motherfucker.

“Yes, bitch, all the damn time. About every time I look up from my station.”

“So you’re looking too.”

Vanessa locks eyes with Brooke. He leaves no room for doubts. 

“Might be,” he says all soft.

Brooke bites his lip again, slow this time. He doesn’t say anything, he’s waiting, and it’s absolutely eating Vanessa alive.

Every silence is some kind of opportunity.

“Fuck it,” Vanessa mutters.

He steps into Brooke’s space, wraps a hand in that grey sweatshirt, and pulls Brooke down into a kiss. It’s too abrupt to be graceful, a little too hard, a little off-center. But something kicks on in Vanessa’s stomach when he feels Brooke’s mouth soften, feels him lean in and try and deepen it. And yeah, okay, yes . This is the moment Vanessa realizes that this is going to be a problem, because Brooke is kissing him like they’re stranded on a desert island, like nothing else matters, and Vanessa really wants to believe that. 

There’s a hand holding onto his chin all nice and firm. There’s a strain growing in his neck because Brooke’s so damn tall (and oh ), but Vanessa can’t imagine pulling away. 

They break apart and Vanessa’s just a little bit breathless, just a little bit fluttery. There’s a little bit of panic that flashes behind Brooke’s eyes. Vanessa catches it before Brooke quickly covers back up with all that self-assurance. 

Vanessa notices that Brooke’s not really all that good at hiding what he’s thinking. Good. 

“I should go.” Vanessa smiles. He walks around Brooke through the doorway, brushes close even though he doesn’t have to. His eyes get wide, the exact intended effect. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” Brooke calls after him.

Vanessa’s halfway down the hallway when he turns back around. Brooke’s not so confident now, with his hands hanging awkwardly at his sides (nothing to hold). He can already feel the swarm of worries starting to buzz in his head and he wants to run at full speed down the hallway because oh my god. 

Instead, he winks. “I know you will.”

—–

So then. All the stuff on TV happens. There’s so much they don’t show, things that were never filmed and are lost to both of their memories. But Vanessa can play them back in his mind as clear as any tagged Instagram video, so that doesn’t really matter. 

He thinks of the way Brooke would play with his hair after lunch, when he rested his head in Brooke’s lap. Then the way that Brooke would nod all solid and determined when Vanessa would squeeze his hand tight before they walked in each morning and ask, “you ready?” And the way Vanessa melted into a puddle when Brooke kissed him slow and deep in the back of that damn van, like he was the only person in the whole world.

(Vanessa will watch it back from bars around the country. He’ll see the cracks start to form in Brooke’s armor, and see himself work his way in there. He’ll roll his eyes at all of it. And it’ll hurt. Parts of it will feel good, sure, but most of it will hurt.)

—–

Some editors got footage of this one moment, somewhere. Vanessa remembers the dutiful camera woman across the Werk Room table from them while they talked on the last day of filming. It probably gets cut because they can’t make it make sense, and for that, Vanessa is weirdly grateful.

“They’re gonna make us lip sync against each other,” Vanessa says, because he knows. 

“They wouldn’t do that.” Brooke barely looks up from his mirror.

Vanessa rolls his eyes, bites his lip. Brooke seems convinced, and Vanessa isn’t sure how he doesn’t see it. Maybe he’s in denial; that would be a nice state to be in. He promised Brooke he wouldn’t make this about them, that their relationship didn’t have to have anything to do with the competition, but he can’t help the way his stomach churns at the thought of going up against Brooke. It’s not right.

Vanessa doesn’t say any of that, but Brooke must be able to see it or something or maybe just read his mind. Brooke traces a couple of small-but-strong circles between Vanessa’s shoulders before reaching for his bag. 

“Are you hungry?” he asks, and Vanessa can hear a wrapper crinkle. 

It’s the Sour Patch Kids. The same goddamn Sour Patch Kids that Brooke didn’t eat while he kissed him by the vending machines instead. Brooke sets them down now on the table and Vanessa’s heart gets caught in his throat as it surges up out of his chest. 

He kept it.

And fuck . The cameras are on and there might be tears at the corners of his eyes and Vanessa doesn’t know what to do with this moment other than to hold it. 

Every silence is some kind of opportunity, and sometimes they don’t have to be filled with words. 

He gets close. Brooke wraps Vanessa up into his arms and doesn’t loosen his arms until the camera woman walks away. He can feel Brooke breathing and matches up with the pace of his own breath, just to see how it feels. Soon he won’t have this anymore, two time zones apart, so he really tries to make it count. 

It’s almost time to start getting ready, and Vanessa doesn’t know how he’s going to do that when every ounce of what is about to happen is so terrifying. But Brooke keeps breathing and so does Vanessa, and that’s more than enough. 

He pulls back, dabs a little bit at the corners of his eyes. He takes Brooke’s hand and squeezes it. “All right, boo. What happens, happens. You ready?”

Brooke nods, a little softer, and Vanessa is absolutely fucked. He grabs the Sour Patch Kids and tosses them in his tote bag, where they’ll be safe. 

Ultimately, he never eats them. He keeps them around, just in case.

[jongdality]

me thinkin' about how i've grown up with exo and watched as they lived and learned and developed as professionals and humans, overcoming the struggles of a poor debut concept and scandal after scandal with their tenacity and love for each other

Then thinkin' about how Kyungsoo, a somewhat aloof, awkward and weird boy who decided to be bold and try out for SM after old people at karaoke competitions told him to and he made 8 brothers for life who love him dearly and support him and his antics and his acting career and call him cute no matter how much he says he isn't good at anything and that he's boring and Manly and how he has starred in a full-ass movie and is partially credited as breaking the "idol-actor" stereotype and writes love songs with chanyeol on the DL that chanyeol reveals on his lives and wrote the lyrics to a lovely, comforting song for us before leaving to join the military so he can become an even bigger star in multiple films once he gets out

Then thinkin' about how bbh, an outgoing boy who flicked lights on and off to make his friends giggle, met a friend for life, kjd, on the very same day they both were to audition to get into a group that was about to debut, how he worked hard to break down barriers in the group and became the moodmaker, and how people thought he was bad at dancing because he hadn't had time to train but actually every solo dance he's been given he's slayed to the point that he became the CENTER FOR CBX, how he worked hard to learn piano in a very short amount of time to play The Answer for his EXO-Ls, how even after an early scandal in which is privacy was invaded he still looks at us with such love and protection and is NOW an amazing solo artist who texts the exo group chat saying he misses them so much

Then thinkin' about Suho. Kim frickin' Joonmyeon. The underdog of the entire group. Born rich, charismatic and well-educated, could have been ANYTHING but CHOSE to train for SEVEN YEARS due to his love of music. You guys. When Baek and another member got into trouble for cussing while playing video games sometime in 2012-2013 and a sasaeng threatened to reveal the voice clips of them cussing purportedly to apink members, joonmyeon texted her personally, so cold, so professional, "are you blackmailing us? If you release the clip you won't be forgiven" big fuckin dad energy, worked so hard on his singing and dancing yet still asks not to be given too many lines or placed center too often, gives up his seats for his members ALWAYS, accepted their first awards show win alone stoic and professional as the boys broke down in the back room after the news of kris leaving broke, now has multiple solo songs and acts and is literally set to be higher-level management at SM due to all his hard work, definitely puts out that goofy mom energy but is actually extremely intelligent, protective and the go-to guy for all the members and this para has no point i just think kim joonmyun deserves everything

Remembering that chanyeol has a famous sister and is a multitalented instrumentalist that didn't actually need to become an idol, but he did because he wanted "brothers", how he skyrocketed an entire foot from debut til now, how he's all teeth and ears and big anime eyes and legs and he's confident and happy after years of struggling w his weight and self-image, makin music and writing lyrics and modeling for tommy hilfiger and riding scooters in paris and despite the fact that he can't dance he tries, despite the fact that he didn't audition to be a rapper he became one of korea's best, how he turns into a little kid every time he's around any small animal and just tries to cuddle and feed it as he coos in his Low Man Voice, his tough raps but then his soft exo station song SSFW, and now exo-sc with his bestie and ACTING!!!

Thinkin' about Xiumin. Xiumin who came in as a vocalist and ended up being one of the best dancers in the group (even tho he hits the highest notes!!!). Xiumin who is the oldest and wisest but is still willing to throw that ass back to havana to make cbx laugh. Xiumin who is korea's pick, who kids and ahjummas alike fall for. Xiumin who is beautiful and quiet and humble and supports his brothers from the sidelines, who is so loving and caring, who released an adorable solo that matches him so well and is now winning fckn awards in military training for being so goddamn amazing. Xiumin who attends TVXQ concerts and supports all of his fellow celebrities. Mark's dad. Amazing man. Says he has no friends outside of exo but literally everyone loves him. Dedicated his formative years to the group even when he wasn't spotlighted like he deserves to be and-

Lay. That's it. That's the paragraph. He came in not speaking Korean and is now one of the top-grossing musicians in all of China. Breaking barriers. Learning languages in a matter of months. Solo albums out the wazoo that he composed. Coming back to wish Kyungsoo goodbye even though he hasn't been on a stage with them in years. Didn't leave, although I'm sure he was mistreated just as much as the members who did. All of exo loves him so fucking much.

Kai. Kai who could have been a professional ballet dancer, could have been a full-time model, debuts as the SCREAMO BOY in mama. Gets made fun of for his skin complexion. Is shy and embarrassed for the first 2 or 3 years of exo interviews, and is still pretty shy and introverted. But boy became the fucking IDOL'S IDOL. FANCAMS GOING VIRAL LEFT AND RIGHT. SUSTAINING INJURIES, CRYING WHEN HE MESSES UP AN EXTREMELY DIFFICULT DANCE ROUTINE TO "I SEE YOU". Is such a perfectionist to the point of pushing himself into constant injury, and besides that has had his personal life broadcasted all over the news MULTIPLE times even though he's so shy and withdrawn irl. People cry to meet him, now. Front and center of every exo dance. A dancing god and the reason half of NCT auditioned. I cannot emphasize how proud I am of Kai, who is only a few months older than sehun yet has had to grow up so fast as the face of the group. Solo during the olympics with plantar fasciitis. Model who stuns at every Gucci show in new and experimental designs.

Sehun. Oh fuckin' Sehun. Ran away from recruiters because his mom told him not to talk to strangers, and now he's modelling for every major fashion campaign, is on the cover of vogue, has his dream dog and certifiably has the biggest dick of all exo members. Became a main dancer through hard work and practice even though nobody ever talks about how hard osh works bc he's sort of overshadowed by kai. Insecure about his singing voice but makes crowds go wild every time he even croons out one beautiful, dulcet line. Babied by junmyeon, kissed and coddled by all the exo members, still has Big Baby Energy but is debuting in a group with his fellow chaotic neutral yeol and looking all sexy with his swooped back hair and his 0 follows on insta. Sings in We Young and raps his little heart out. His solo during concerts still shake my very uterus and im pretty sure he's gay. That's how powerful ohs is, and he can only go up from here.

And finally my baby boy kim jongdae. Chanyeol once said Jongdae is so nice that he comes off as stupid and that is absolutely positively true. Boy is the manifestation of the john mulaney quote "you could pour soup on my lap and id apologize to you". Is a ray of fucking sunshine whose only goal as he was singing in that video from high school was to "become a singer". It's his passion. It's the reason he LIVES. He prays to jesus before every concert but worships music. One of THE best vocalists in the game with the cleanest and most controlled voice, sings in the shower, sings in the car, sings while walking to pet some deer, sings because he loves it and now he's a soloist with his own album out and another in the works, and not only that, he dances his feet on fire in CBX and exo routines and remains steady to hit those high notes. Duets abound because everyone loves him. Will tell a bitch to back off when talking about his private life bc he's probably a husband with 6 happy, healthy children at home. Started out as the nervous boy chasing a dream on that fateful day with bbh and became the nation's pick, sings CONSTANTLY, yet is still so humble he opens up a yt channel just to cover other artists' songs. MCs for Baekhyun's solo and shows up to all his performances to monitor. Heart of gold. Smiles when he's hurting. Deserves this solo career and deserves the happiest life this world can provide him.

Words aren't enough to express how grateful I am for these men, how proud I am and how much I just want them to know that we know how hard they've worked to get as far as they have. Compare them to any other group, even other SM groups, and it's clear that their passion, drive, skill and professionalism is unrivaled. They are all born artists and musicians down to their core, and with that, they're all kind, sweet people who are who they are because they debuted as 18, 19, 20, etc year old men 7 years ago and have grown up together, suffered together, celebrated together and loved together. They've switched up sounds, concepts, gone experimental, have created some of the most beautiful ballads and harmonies music has ever seen, and they strive for nothing but the best. ALWAYS. They have never disappointed me, and they never fail to inspire me every time they show the fruits of all their labor (as well as multiple creative people and teams that come together to create EXO) onstage as one.

Exo we are one, saranghaja.

[forever-more-never-again]

Hands (A Natasha Request)

Word Count: 4321

Requested: Anonymous

Pairing: Platonic!Tony X Reader, Natasha X Reader

Warnings: DESCRIPTION OF PANIC ATTACK, VIOLENCE, ABUSE, PAIN, BRUISES, TALK OF PAST ABUSE, LANGUAGE, SELF-ESTEEM ISSUES PLEASE TAKE THE WARNINGS SERIOUSLY AS THIS IS A SENSITIVE TOPIC AND IT DOES GET A BIT DESCRIPTIVE 

Request: Hi, could you please write Natasha x reader or Maggie Sawyer x reader, where reader has been in abusive relationship but hasn't told anyone. Now she's happily with Maggie/Nat, but after she sees her ex again all the bad memories come back. When she gets in argument with Maggie/Nat she flinches or covers her face when they make a gesture and Maggie/Nat is worried and confused why she is scared of them, she then tells about her abusive ex. It's kinda deep so it's fine if you don't want to write it.

Masterlist

A/n: If you are in any trouble, please get help. Know that there are people who care and are willing to help you. So reach out...

Your laughter bubbled over and your hands clutched your stomach. “Nat!” Your voice came out in gasps as you watched your girlfriend strut around in Steve’s uniform.

“It’s time for some star spangled banners and all that is patriotic to rise up!” She puffed her chest and adopted a stern, gruff voice.

“Natasha! Stop, I’m gonna cry!” You gasped, wiping the tears of mirth that threatened to fall down your face.

“What is this?” You and Natasha both froze and slowly turned to the common area doorway where a very confused Steve stood with Tony.

“Run!” Natasha shouted in the sudden silence and jumped towards you grabbing your arm.

“[Y/n]! Natasha! Get back here!” Steve yelled out, his inner Captain America surfacing as he realized what the two of you had been doing.

“Sorry!” You yelled back as you ran with Natasha down the stairs to her room.

Once safely in Natasha’s room, you both let out sighs of relief.

Sharing a look, you both busted out into laughter once more.

Natasha wrapped her arms around you, pulling you in to her. Her green eyes dazzled as she looked down at you.

Heat rose to your face when you realized she was still wearing Steve’s uniform. Natasha in the stealth suit...was something else.

You wet your lips with your tongue, the movement catching the sharp gaze of the assassin.

“Like what you see?” Her voice dropped to the sultry tone that sent a shiver down your spine.

“Always.” Was your immediate response.

“[Y/n]...I love you so much.” She dipped her head to your neck, her lips finding the vein there.

You threw your head back with a gasp and a moan, hands tangling in her red hair and tugging, distracting her from your lack of response.

The next morning, you stretched and rose from the comfort of Natasha’s bed.

“Ngh...it’s too early...stay..” Natasha’s whine was accompanied by her arms reaching out and her hands making grabby motions towards you.

Giggling softly, you leaned over and pressed a kiss to her forehead, “I’m going to return Steve’s suit to him and then I have that tour with Tony, remember?” You reminded your girlfriend.

A gentle sigh and then her eyelids rose slowly and roamed the length of your naked body.

“Hmm...admiring your work?” You smirked as you bent over to pick up a shirt, watching the way Natasha swallowed hard and her eyes darkened.

“I always mark what’s mine.” She said offhandedly, while admiring the various bruises and scratches that covered your body.

Eventually you recovered all your clothes and bundled the stealth suit up in your arms, “Remember Nat! You promised Clint you would train with him this afternoon!” You called back to the bedroom.

The groan that Natasha released followed your laughter to the hallway as you headed back to the common area.

It was fairly early in the morning as you entered the kitchen after dropping the stealth suit on a couch.

“Hey Bruce.” You waved to the scientist who looked a breath away from falling over.

He waved, or rather, attempted to, before giving up and just chugging the cup of coffee he held in his hand.

“Rise and Shine you beautiful Bastard!”

You turned with a wide smile, “Morning Tony. Mind your mouth when we give the tour today.”

Tony merely raised an eyebrow and patted Bruce on the back, nearly making him stumble and fall.

“[Y/n]...I had the idea that you could show off your mutation after we show off the lab.” Tony grabbed a granola bar from the cabinets, throwing one towards you.

Catching it, you grimaced and set it back on the counter, “ You know I don’t like showing it off to people.” You pulled on the sleeves of your shirt, trying to hide your discomfort.

Bruce narrowed his eyes at you, but you avoided his gaze.

Tony shrugged, “Was worth a shot. Not everyone knows that your mutation is even a reality, so it’s pretty awesome to blow their minds.”

Now it was you who shrugged. You didn’t really like thinking of your mutation outside of the missions.

“Alright. Let’s get this going.” Tony cracked his neck, the sound making Bruce flinch. Earning Tony a glare that he laughed off.

Following him down to the public area of the tower, you put on the professional business outfit that Tony had picked out for you.

And then with a sigh, you followed the billionaire to the conference room where the people who had paid to get a tour of the Avenger’s tower were waiting.

You honestly didn’t understand why they had agreed to let civilians and strangers into the base, but Tony and Steve agreed that it would bolster trust within the community and it also raised funds.

“Alright Crew! I’m Tony Stark and with me today is [Y/n] [y/l/n]. We’re all about safety and fun here, so please stay with us at all time as we go through this tour. Remember...you’re in the center of the Avenger compound...surrounded by gods, heroes, and super soldiers.” The sly threat filled the quiet area.

You rose your gaze to take in the small crowd of people, skimming over woman and children..until you saw them.

You immediately took a reflexive step backwards, but you had been standing too close to the wall so you smacked into it, drawing the attention you had been wanting to avoid.

You recognized the look on their face when they saw you.

Tony, not noticing the attention on you, turned to you with concern, “[Y/n]?” He asked softly.

Tearing your eyes off of the person you had hoped to never see again, you managed to stutter out a sentence to Tony. “I-I have to-Have to help Bruce set up!” And with that, you ran out of the room.

Your legs were jelly and breathing became a terrible task. You dimly realized you were experiencing a panic attack, but you only had one main thought. To get away.

Stumbling past concerned secretaries and businessmen, you found the elevator and punched the number for the garage. Your sanctuary.

The cold concrete greeted you when you stumbled out of the elevator, sliding down to sit against the gray walls.

Your legs drawn up to your chest, you put your head between them, finally focusing on getting your breathing under control again.

“You’re okay. You’re okay. That was the past. They can’t hurt you anymore. You’re safe.”

You muttered the words that years of therapy had drilled into you.

“Didn’t realize my presence would cause such a stir. You’re little boyfriend is trying not to show how concerned he is about you taking off like that, [Y/n].”

The voice was like oil, smothering the air that you drew into your lungs.

You quickly stood back up, not wanting them to see you in a weakened state.

“How did you get down here? What do you want?” You tried to make your voice sound tough, but it came out weak and scared.

The person in front of you crossed their arms, the smile on their face one of fake innocence. “You would think security would be a little tighter in the Avengers tower, but hey. Can’t I just see how my Ex is doing?”

A big breath of air, “No. Now leave. You’re not welcome here.” You made to walk past him, just repeating in your head that you had to just reach the elevator and you would be okay.

A grip of steel grabbed your arm above the elbow, halting your retreat. All pretense of pleasantry was gone from the voice that grazed your ear, “Don’t walk away from me, [Y/n]. I own you. You were nothing before me.”

The grip tightened to the point of being really painful. You bit back the whimper, knowing they were waiting for it. You weren’t going to give them the satisfaction.

“Let me go.” For the first time, you actually wished Tony had installed cameras or even FRIDAY in the garage. But the fact that there were none was what initially made this place desirable towards you.

The grip only tightened. You knew you would have a bruise when this was over. One more memory you would rather forget.

“I thought I trained you better than this. You insolent little bitch. You freak.”

You would not meet their eyes. Their stare two burning holes of hate on the back of your head.

“You never ‘trained’ me. You abused me. And It took a long time for me to realize that. I’m happy now. You have no power over me.” Of course, you were bluffing through your teeth. You were practically petrified with terror at the thought of what they could do to you down here where no one could see.

You peaked towards the elevator, heart screaming out for help.

You were forcefully tugged backwards and flung to the ground. You couldn’t hold back the cry of pain as you landed on your arm weird and your leg became twisted.

The grimace and sneer of malice that stood over you was one that haunted your nightmares.

“I OWN YOU! NOBODY WANTED YOU EXCEPT ME YOU FREAK! YOU CAN'T EVEN USE YOUR POWERS YOU’RE SO FUCKING WEAK!”

The scream echoed through the garage, actually setting off the car alarm of one of the secretaries vans.

You hands scrambled for purchase on the smooth concrete as you crawled backwards, away from the advancing person with hate in their eyes.

You had the perfect vantage point to see the hand as it swung down and heard the impact as it connected to your cheek.

The force caused your neck to snap to the side, your head suddenly on fire from the onslaught of pain and the ringing in your ear.

“Stop..” A whispered plea. Your mutation sang in your blood, a reminder that you could use it to get free. But you shoved it back.

“Whore!” This time it was a kick delivered to your stomach, knocking the air from your lungs.

You fell sideways as you gasped, your vision tunneling, trying to focus on the cars alongside you.

“You think you can leave me? Me? You think that just because you whored your way into the Avengers, that you actually belong with them? You don’t belong anywhere. So why don’t you just admit that?”

You shook your head, frantically denying the words they were saying.

“No! No! That’s not true!” Tears ran freely down your face. You looked up and finally caught their gaze, you pleaded through your eyes, and with your words, “What happened to you? I once worshipped you, I thought the world of you..I LOVED YOU!” You shrieked out, narrowly avoiding another kick aimed at your legs. “I thought we were happy...for two years...I thought you loved me to. But then the nights of you stumbling home drunk became more common, the broken beer bottles, the slaps and screams and the trips to the hospital. You’re a monster!”

They merely laughed. Standing over you, they crouched, resting their arms casually on their bent knees, “You are so stupid. You honestly believe anyone could love you? You? You’re a freak. A whore. A whiny, no good bitch whose place is a bed to be fucked on and a cage to sleep in.”

“[Y/n]?”

Another voice broke the tension. You went limp in relief. You were saved from this living nightmare.

“[Y/n], where are you? FRIDAY said she saw you head down to the garage roughly an hour ago.”

Your eyes went wide, it had already been an hour?

You winced and yelped in pain as your were suddenly dragged up by the roots of your hair. “Now, be a good little freak and stay quiet.” A menacing whisper.

“Tony!” You shouted, ignoring the threat. The promise of safety too high to ignore.

“[Y/n]!?”

“Shit.” You were dropped back to the ground.

Groaning as you landed on your bruised arm and stomach.

“Stop!” Tony’s voice became hardened and furious as he rounded the corner and saw them running away from your prone form.

Tony made as if to run after them, but you held up a hand, “No...Tony.” Torn, you could see him look between you and the receding figure.

Finally he sighed and lowered himself next to you, slowly bring and arm around to help you sit up.

“Damn. You okay kid?” He ran a hand over you, checking for major injuries, “Who was that? What happened?”

You waved him off, grimacing in pain as you slowly stood up. Stumbling a little, saved from falling to the hard ground by a hand from Tony.

“It’s fine. Nothing I haven’t handled before.” You brushed him off, hobbling to the elevator. Turning back to look at the confused, concerned man, you hook a thumb, “You coming?”

Once in the elevator, you sagged against a wall.

Tony’s voice was soft, as if you were a skittish colt, “What happened down there, [Y/n]? You ran out of the conference room in a panic before the tour even started and then I find someone standing over you in the garage. You have torn clothes and your face looks like someone took a meat tenderizer to it.”

You caught sight of your reflection in the gilded walls of the elevator. Gingerly, you reached up and touched the nasty black and purple bruise covering the side of your face.

Knowing you wouldn’t get out of explaining, you smiled sadly at Tony, “I guess it’s time to come clean. But..I’d rather only tell the story once..so let’s gather everyone this evening in the common room… And I’ll explain.”

Tony nodded. But still drug you to the medical room to have Dr. Cho look you over.

She put a compression wrap on your arm and gave you some painkillers and instructions for the bruise on your face and abdomen.

For the rest of the day, you avoided everyone. Even Natasha. Which hurt. But she was the one you were most terrified to see.

Would she still want to be with you once she found out how weak you truly were? She was so strong and beautiful and amazing, you always asked why she had chosen you...and now you might lose her.

Eventually the evening came and you couldn’t hide anymore. Especially since Tony used FRIDAY to find you and make sure you came to the common room.

“Why did you call us all here Tony? Did something go wrong during the tour today?” “Does this have to do with my stealth suit? Because it was in some...Let’s just say I took it to the cleaners when I found it on the couch this morning.”

“Are you going to explain where [Y/n] has been all day? They’ve been ignoring all my messages and even FRIDAY wouldn’t tell me where they were.”

“They’re okay, Natasha. Calm down….Please put your knife away!”

The startled tone of Tony had you break into a little giggle, causing silence to descend in the common room.

Silently willing strength, you walked out from where you had been standing hidden into the light.

Gasps were the first sound to break the silence. You kept your gaze on the ground.

“[Y/n]...” Your name, a soft broken sound from the voice of Natasha.

You brought your head up, and caught sight of an arm coming towards you, and without thinking it through, you shrieked and dropped, covering your face with your arms. “No!” Passed through your lips without your consent.

Your whole body shook as the adrenaline worked its way through your bloodstream.

Taking deep breaths, you registered the silence had returned to the room. The room. That’s right. You weren’t in the garage with them anymore.

Embarrassment and shame filled you as you slowly stood up, putting down your defenses. “I’m sorr-”

“No. Don’t apologize.” Natasha’s harsh words cut through the air. It was her arm that stood frozen in front of you. And you realized that she had been meaning to touch the bruise on your face.

“What?” You had to cough and clear your throat to get the one word out. Shock evident. Your eyes flitted over the rest of the team, expecting them to be disgusted or pitying. But instead, you saw concern and empathy.

“[Y/n]...why don’t you tell us what happened.” Steve...keeping a level head like always.

You shot him a grateful smile as you stepped around Natasha and settled in on the couch.

The team shuffled and settled around you, their attention like needles on your skin. You tugged on your sleeves. One hand reaching up to trace the bruise, invoking a dull pain.

“So, most of you know that I came to join the Avengers when Tony heard about my mutation from his friend Charles Xavier...I was living under a bridge in Nevada at the time. Tony respected my privacy and didn’t pry into my personal life. And I’m forever grateful for that.”

You shot a look at the man in question. He nodded his head towards you. You smiled.

“You also know that I don’t like using my mutation and I try to not to be associated with it. It’s a different person. It’s not who I want to be. So I don’t acknowledge it as much as I can.”

A hand gripped yours, stopping the pressure you had been applying to your bruise.

Bringing your hand down to her lips, Natasha kissed the back of your hand, her gaze unwavering as she held your eyes.

“My life before the Avengers...was not happy.” You let out a self-deprecating laugh, “I doubt most people with powers or mutations have happy stories.”

Drawing in a breath, you gained Courage from the looks and energy around you, “My parents died when I was young, and I was easily persuaded due to not understanding what was happening to me while my mutation was growing. So when someone found me and began showing concern and care for me...I fell head over heels.”

A sucked in breath. A wordless slap of warning. You heard it, but didn’t see the actions around you as you were drawn into the past.

“They gave me a home and promised to look out for me. They swore they loved me. That I was special. Not a freak. Not something to be feared. They promised a normal life...a family...And after two years together, I believed them.”

The hand gripping yours tightened but then released the grip. You looked over at Natasha, needing her to understand, more than anyone. Your words growing desperate as you continued your story.

“I thought they loved me. I thought I was worth love. But then they started getting drunk. The bruises became harder to cover up and harder to rationalize that they were only minor incidents. They grew rough with me, forcing me...forcing me….I thought they loved me and I was in a relationship with them, so it wasn’t bad...I know better now.”

The silence in the room was deafening, but you couldn’t stop now.

“The nurses at the local hospital knew me by name after a couple months. And then, one day...Someone finally looked at me. Really looked and they asked if I wanted their help. I broke down… I was taken in by a group and got therapy and a restraining order. But I was too messed up at that point. I had to be locked in my room at night so that I wouldn’t try to run and beg for their forgiveness and to be taken back. Even though I knew it was wrong! It was like my brain and heart and time were all fighting and I was a mess because of it for a long time. Eventually I decided what I needed was space. But I never learned how to survive in the real world. They never let me handle money, or go shopping, or socialize, so I had no skills.”

Tears flowed down your face, blurring your vision. Several soft sniffles and hiccups could be heard as your team cried with you.

“That’s how Tony found me. Then today...Today I walked into the conference room to lead the tour and I saw someone I thought I would never see again. And...I panicked. I ran. And they followed.”

Talking became hard as you struggled to get words out past the lump growing in your throat.

“They brought back all the old memories, all the old hurt. And they gave me a reminder of my time with them.” You gestured to the bruise.

“And they brought up all my insecurities. That I’m not worth loving. That I’m just a freak. A charity case. And even though it’s not true...that the only reason you guys care for me is because I spread my legs for you.”

Anger. Simmering.

“What!?” And exploding.

You flinched at the loud interruption.

“Sorry, [Y/n]..just...How could!? Tell me we have him locked up...Tony?”

Natasha turned to Tony, rage flaring up, her hair almost alive like fire as it surrounded her face.

Tony looked solomon as he shook his head, “They ran off and [Y/n] was too hurt to leave alone. I had to choose. And [Y/n] came first.”

Natasha turned back to you, the rage dying as she took in your tear stained face. Her hands were slow in she kept them in your view at all times as she brought them up and cupped your face with them, “None of that is true, [Y/n]. You’re not weak. And you are worth loving. We all love you. We’re your family.”

A chorus of agreements followed.

You looked out over the faces that you had come to know and love over the past few years. A strange hope growing in your chest.

“Truly?” You didn’t have it in you if they denied it. If they turned out to be just as cruel as them.

Nods and tears and snot all came crashing together as they jumped on you in a group hug.

“We love you [Y/n].”

“They’ll pay for what they did.”

“You’re family.”

“You may be a pain in my ass at times, but I love you kiddo.”

The grin you wore was threatening to crack your face as you leaned back to take in the faces of everyone.

“Thanks guys...I love you too.”

Laughter followed but then a hand found yours and tugged you out of the group.

You found yourself lost in a word of green.

“[Y/n]. You’ve felt so much pain at the expense of hands. And I can’t erase that, or make it better, but I can assure you...hands do much more than cause pain. They can hold you tight for comfort. They can touch your cheek in a caress. They can touch your body in worship. Hands can do so much more than hold each other. And I hope...one day, you will accept my hands again.”

Natasha was shaking as she tried to keep herself composed. But once you reached up and cupped her cheek, she broke.

Sweeping down, she captured your lips with hers and stole the breath from your lungs.

The heat and intensity unlike anything else.

Her hands were frantic as they curled against your back, as if ensuring that you were real. That you were there.

You lips broke with a gasp, allowing her tongue entrance. The familiar scent of Vanilla cherry overpowering your senses, drowning you in it.

“Guys! Get a room!”

Jumping apart at the loud voice. You and Natasha stared at one another, breathless, wide eyed, before dissolving into giggles.

Wrapping an arm around your waist, Natasha flipped off the accompanying laughter from everyone behind you as you walked down to her room.

Once the door shut behind her, she grabbed your hand and placed it on her heart.

“[Y/n]..I want you to know that I will spend the rest of my life proving that you are worth all the love the world has to offer and that my heart belongs to you. I will devote myself to proving that life is worthing living and that you matter. I will slay anyone who denies it and I will track down and gut the person who-”

You placed your hand over her lips, cutting off her monologue. A smile played with the corners of your own lips as you looked at the woman before you.

“You really mean that..Don’t you?” It was meant to be answered, it was more of a inner wonder spoken aloud.

But Natasha slowly removed the hand placed over her mouth and gazed down at you, “Every word. You are you, [Y/n]. Perfectly imperfect. And I love every bit of it. Every fight. Every laugh. Every annoying prank. I love you.”

You sagged against her chest, wrapping your arms around her, breathing in her scent, cementing yourself into reality. That this was real. That this was actually happening. She wasn’t disgusted. She wasn’t pitying. She wasn’t shoving you out without a goodbye.

She was...here.

“I love you too, Natasha.”

FOREVER Taglist:

@sxph-t @mialeelavellan @rainydaysrnevergrey  @platonic-plots @sociallyawkwardcircus-freak-hi @ayyidkeither @mcuimxgine @mythixmagic @chas-z @thefridgeismybestie @strangersstranger

Natasha Taglist:

@ludwigvonbaethoven @hanjiscience-slut @kitten-q-p @morbid-gaymer @honeybadgerwhodoesntcare @sunnyandtwisty @zoeyknight @kurlyafro @thewomanofwonder @5aftermidnight @myfemininelesboworld @rizamendoza808

Avengers Taglist:

@jadepc