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momoliee · 1 year

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Okay! now that I’m done rereading Mo Du by Priest, time for an overall review on the entire series! WARNING: unlike my previous book by book review, this review WILL contain spoilers, even if theyre not major, cause it’s more of an analysis than a review so beware!!

A piece of work about: a team of investigators, from the special crimes department, whose wildest wishes is not to spend the weekend working overtime; a sociopathic young CEO, who cant put the case behind his mother’s death to rest; five elderly policemen from the previous generation, two of whom have died under suspicious circumstances; and a never ending series of crimes varying from kidnappings to trafficking to murder and maybe even serial killings. If this already sounds complicated, then dont worry, cause it gets even more and more complicated to a point where you find yourself juggling two, maybe even three, cases at a time.

I’ll start with the characters:

Luo Wenzhou: a charismatic, quick tempered captain of the investigation team who’s a lil too full of himself but he still has a heart large enough to embrace everyone he comes across. i absolutely adored his character, his dialogue and quips, his fatherly demeanor in which he lectures his subordinates before proceeding to do exactly what they were doing, then buying them all food so they can overlook his shamelessness. Luo Wenzhou is the sort to overcrowd the room with his boisterous, loud personality; the sort elders lectured all the time for getting in countless troubles, but still openly favored anyway. He is bold, capable, kind, creative with his insults, and even though he’s always threatening to give everyone around him a beating, the most he does is smack them on the back of their head. His character is simple and easy to read, but definitely very lovable and warm.

Now meet Fei Du. Our beloved sociopath. Yes he’s an actual sociopath (he is NOT a psychopath, cause psychopaths are born that way, and sociopaths are MADE that way during their childhoods, which leaves room for them to heal and reverse what they were forced to learn and unlearn it all, a very important point. While we certainly meet a lot of psychopaths in the series, the difference between them and Fei Du is that Fei Du, later on, unlearns everything that was forced down his throat and heals, which is one of the themes in the series). Now what I really love about this novel, is that while in every other danmei, there’s always one shy and and quiet character while their love interest is always the loud and extroverted one, in this web novel, they are both equally flirty, equally shameless, equally extroverted, and equally bold in everything they do. While Luo Wenzhou’s charisma expresses itself in a more cocky, big handsome brave man type of way, Fei Du’s charisma is a lot quieter and more…seductive, sensual and silk-draped. His words are always as sweet as honey, he’s the sort to send flowers and wear expensive strong cologne, drive up to your work place in an expensive chic car, and open the door for you. A true Gentleman, the very opposite of the Hero and Savior, Luo Wenzhou, who’s a lot more aggressive and rough and protective.

But Fei Du’s character goes deeper than that. I absolutely loved how intelligent priest made him out to be, and i always looked forward to his explanations and deductions for every case, his chameleon like mindset and mirroring personality that seems to shift and change and adjust according to whom he’s talking to and what he wants from the person he’s around. His childhood is horrific, truly the most frightening backstory in any novel i’ve read, it exceeded my expectations the first time i read the series and completely took me by surprise, nothing i couldve ever expected. He is extremely manipulative, and up until the last few chapters in the last book, you still cant trust him or deduce his motives or know where he stands. And yet, priest somehow manages to make him no less lovable than Wenzhou, cause even if you dont know whether he’s evil or not, you still cant help but be fond of him.

I absolutely LOVE and ADORE fei du and luo wenzhou’s dynamic, with the way they spent the first novel bickering and fighting back and forth, unable to so much as stand being in the same room as each other, to the way they started shamelessly flirting back and forth and one upping each other in the next book, building up so much tension between them. And even when they got together, they still retained a very interesting dynamic, their relationship never mellowed down, it was still very entertaining through and through. A perfect enemies to lovers. (Also side note, i feel like if you were to take priest’s character Gu Yun from Shapo Lan, and split him in two, you’d actually get fei du and luo wenzhou. I feel like they represent the two different sides of Gu Yun, the flirty and seductive young master everyone wants to sleep with, and the capable and bold leader everyone would follow loyally to any battle.)

The rest of the characters, aka Tao Ran and Lang Qaoi and Xaoi Haiying and Zhou Huajin and basically everyone, are my CHILDREN i will protect them with my BLOOD.

Now for the plot, well, i’ve always been a mystery and thriller girl, so need i say more? All priest had to say was CRIME, and i came running. From the moment the first case presented itself, i knew this series was gonna become one of my all time favorites. I’m talking yellow “KEEP OUT” tapes, i’m talking forensics complications and bloody crime scenes, I’m talking clues and hints and evidence and suspects and a classic ‘who done it’. Every case was different from the last, so the series never felt repetitive or boring. Each time it was a different issue, a different pattern, a different plot twist. Priest definitely kept my nerves wrapped up in a twist throughout all five books, always on a look out for different clues and hints, always trying to put two and two together and figure things out along with the characters. She touched on topics from mass homicide to rape and pedophilia to prostitution and drug addiction to a wealthy family strife over inheritance to cults and the abyss behind victimhood and grief. I absolutely loved the range, how you could go from reading about the silly banter between the characters over what they should eat while they work overtime, to serious and deep discussions over trauma and justice, and what was the correct way to process grief and get over an event that ruined your life and the lives of everyone around you. Another thing that i loved, was how interactive the cases where. It felt like everything clicked, everything made sense, and nothing was overlooked. Every question i asked myself, a character in the book would ask and an answer would be presented, and every minor detail that was mentioned in the very beginning that i quickly forgot, was brought back later on and expanded on in more detail and care. It was an extremely fun read.

Finally, the overarching theme of the story, discussing the processing of trauma, grief, abuse and victimhood, as well as criminal psychology and the line between justice and self righteousness. I love how for every case presented, Priest always showed you the two sides to the same coin, the two paths anyone is presented with in the face of life altering events. Priest gives you the answer to questions like, why did Fei Du choose not to become like his father, an actual psychopath, why was he capable of undoing all the things his father taught him and why did he consciously CHOOSE that path, over simply following his father’s path of psychopathy and greed and apathy and murder. Priest presents you with characters that are born into circumstances similar to Fei Du’s, but with just the tiniest differences and alterations, they ended up on a complete different path, being on the opposite end of the interrogation room table, bearing handcuffs. But priest doesn’t give you all the answers right away cause where’s the fun in that? She leaves you wondering why fei du turned out different, or did he actually turn out different? Why didn’t he end up like all those other psychopaths who followed the lead of their parents? Till at last, she explains everything in the last book, and you put together a similar conclusion yourself just before everything is unraveled (if you guys want, i can do a whole meta analysis on fei du’s character, cause he is one of the most interesting characters that i’ve read about). Another example on the same circumstances but two paths concepts would be, without any major spoilers, the families of the deceased and the victims. Now i wont divulge into details not to insert any major spoilers, but whoever reads book 5, then reads the extras after the epilogue, will definitely understand what i mean. That was a brilliant stroke on Priest’s part, definitely genius.

This whole installment was intriguing, intricately woven, complex and simply mind blowing. You’ll laugh, cry, get anxious, feel relief only to end up anxious again, attempt to solve the cases along with the characters, stay up late while going over the INTENSE interrogation scenes, and meet all sorts of criminals and personas as you dive deep into their psychological thought process and motives. This series is a DEFINITE 1000000/10 to me, my third favorite danmei (right after the dumb husky and his white cat shizun by meatbun and heaven’s official blessing by mxtx). Also, there’s a pet cat :D

#long post but i couldn’t help myself #mo du #mo du zhe #silent reading #priest #danmei #danmei priest #danmei recs

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mythpregftm · 1 month

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thinking a lot about pregnant Anders and I think being pregnant would honestly ground him a little bit, and it’d be a healing thing for him since he’s surprised he can even have a child with the grey warden taint + the trauma of circle mage family separation.

Anyways, he’s taking loads in his cunt from anyone in dark town/his companions thinking nothing will come of it because nothing does. until his mind is quieter than it has been in years and justice is urging him to eat more and more when before he only ate the food necessary for survival and anything else had to go to his cause. and overtime the pudge around his hips won’t go away. Pregnancy is the physically healthiest he’s been in years.

I love this sooo much... Anders is my babygirl and he deserves the absolute world. And a baby!!

Imagine. He lands in Kirkwall thin as a twig, dirty, and sallow. He works himself to the bone in Darktown witnessing injustices and horrors every day, offering what help he can at his clinic but it's never, ever enough. His hands shake, his back aches, and Justice won't keep quiet. He works til his mana is exhausted and he doesn't even recognize the pangs of his hunger. But it's Anders, and he's always been a flirt, so he still manages to find a little fun with thankful patrons from his clinic and his newfound companions through Hawke. Using sex as a stress relief, fucking his companions after stressful missions, letting them cum in his pussy because he loves getting his tight cunt stuffed. And hey, he's a Warden, it was drilled into him that he's basically infertile.

Except things start feeling strange. Justice rears its ugly head less and starts encouraging Anders to care for himself more. He must be ill, because his days are dotted with intermittent nausea, but even when he improves his food intake and his sleep schedule, Anders still feels nauseous and tender and sore...

It's Merrill that tells him how good he's looked recently. His face is fuller, there's more energy in his step, and he must be doing something right, because she says he's practically glowing... not with Justice, she clarifies. It confuses Anders more than anything, who doesn't often look in the mirror. But she's right... at home, Anders strips down, looks at himself, and sees the weight he's accumulated. The tiny bump in his belly doesn't even register at first, too surprised that he almost looks normal again. He's so much less bony and has a healthy flush to him, even if there's a bit more fat settling around his hips than he's used to. Soreness be damned, he feels great.

It still takes a little bit for him to notice changes, though. There's a heaviness in his hips and he keeps gaining weight... looking in the mirror again, the distention of his belly doesn't remind him of fat, it reminds him of...

Oh. Pregnancy.

Anders realizes he's pregnant with an actual child and he's a mess of emotion but his heart swells. He never thought he'd be able to have a baby, between the cruelty of the Circles and his tainted blood. But he's pregnant and he's healthy and Justice is ringing in his head- this is exactly what he wants. This is what he needs, and this is what he's fighting for. He looks and feels the best he has in years, and he's determined to stay that way for his precious gift.

...his companions are surprised but take it quite well. Anders looks good with a belly and pair of growing tits. They're especially for it when Anders' libido picks up and he begging to take their cocks in his soaking, pregnant cunt. Maybe that's when Hawke invites him to the mansion, where Anders can have his fertile body worshipped every night and not worry about the dangers of Darktown. He may not know whose babe he's carrying, but he gets all the love and sex he could ever want, and Hawke is acting like a proud father already. Anders' pregnancy works out for everyone involved <3

#mine #asks #dragon age

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smolwritingchick · 19 days

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After Jennie and Jungkook get married, how would they describe their marriage relationship when they’re asked about it in interviews? How would they describe the difference being married vs. being boyfriend/girlfriend?

I rambled! I hope it makes sense! Brainstorming!

I'd say they'd describe their marriage as adventurous and fun. There are times it will get hard but they'll work as a team to get through any obstacles. They're both still as silly and playful as they were when they were dating. And it's more on a serious level as they plan for the future, especially regarding children and living in South Korea and so on.

Like as they get older and also be in the engagement/married period of their relationship, I see them more open and flirty on social media. Yeah, I will have them do that from time to time as boyfriend and girlfriend but it goes to a new level when they're married/engaged.

Being less busy when Bangtan is on hiatus and the military services are being done with the members, their passion for each other will increase a lot as well and they will get tested a lot regarding the distance and time apart when Jungkook is enlisted. Also they'll learn to compromise better when they are married which will be something they'd have some issues with while dating sometimes.

For instance, spending time with each other during busy schedules. These two young adults started off their relationship privately and spent a lot of time together. That free time is going to decrease as Bangtan gets bigger and bigger globally with the years going by in the story. Of course I will still be writing lots of JenKook fluff but realistically that is going to take a toll on their relationship and test them.

I'm thinking of their first fight to be due to lack of time spent with each other because BTS is getting more popular, the schedules are getting packed, one is free while the other is not, and due to being tired and missing dates unintentionally when work goes overtime.

And another argument I had in mind is her getting mad at him for not respecting her wishes on being quieter when gaming with his friends online while she's trying to concentrate and work on a song.

They'll compromise in marriage like Jennie taking a little hiatus from Bangtan for pregnancy while still occasionally working behind the scenes, where to live and raise their family, they'll settle for South Korea while still having a place in America to be able to be near Jen's family and ect. Marriage will be hard work for them but they will be a good team.

When talking about the difference being married vs being boyfriend/girlfriend:

Yeah they're gonna be open and proud to be dating but I also still see them as lowkey when they are boyfriend and girlfriend. Yes, we got that big social media reveal as I'm working on that chapter but supporters will be enjoying any crumbs on JenKook when they decide to post each other or watch anything filmed of them. And the media would always try to push this agenda that they broke up since they don't see too many posts about them from time to time. Sometimes JenKook would post something together and it would speak volumes that nothing was wrong with their relationship.

Being married is a more stronger commitment for them as they take their relationship to new heights and build a future together. Their emotional connection is deeper than it was dating and they'll begin to seriously use the word "We" and "Us" in conversations.

Overall, dating and married, the two will always be excited to talk about each other when asked in interviews. People will notice how they glow and smile when thinking of each other.

There will be times they will both be like, "I cannot stand him/her," and then later on they'll be like, "I really love him/her"

"The Black Girlfriend Effect" already hit Jungkook but when "The Black Wife Effect" hits, it'll hit him tenfold. I see ARMY making a huge trend of videos about JenKook with that.

#answered #anon #smol ideas

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boneyfaun · 2 years

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Hi! I saw your Thoma matchup and I was wondering if I could get a matchup also? (Preferably romantic and with a Male character!)

Appearance!

I have light brown skinned but sometimes they can get pale during the winter, I have very dark brown hair / eyes (and in my hair there are a few pieces of bleached parts), I have a few moles (one on my upper lip, two tiny ones on near my right bottom lip and one on my neck), and I have thin almond eyes!.

Personality!

I am very supportive and friendly with close ones, usually I can be stubborn with things most of the time, I wouldn’t say at first when meeting new people I’m shy but just more observing and quiet but overtime I’ll start voicing my opinions a lot more (and sometimes I can be talkative BUT not all the time!), and I have a Divine feminine energy (And I can have somewhat an attitude).

Likes!

I usually like to bake sweets, maybe go shopping here and there, love spending quality time with close ones (we don’t even have to talk and I’ll enjoy the time), My love language is Quality time and gift giving! and reading books and listing to music (and I absolutely love hearing jokes).

Dislikes!

I’m not really fond of loud noises, people with no manners, rude people in general, overly touchy people, Spiders, and FREEZING cold weather!

And a few fun facts!

I can be a bit clumsy, can’t really see far from a long distance, I have a naturally loud voice (so sometimes it startled people when I speak suddenly) and my Favorite color is purple!

ANND that’s about it! Have a lovely day / afternoon / night and a splendid year!!

I know you said you dislike cold weather but I really think a certain cryo user would be fond of that divine energy you mentioned having, so I match you with Kaeya!!

For starters, I do think he would be the first person to understand that quiet does not always equate to being shy. The man has a clear talent for observation and collecting intel in his own ways, so he would easily pick you out for just being attentive instead of socially introverted. I feel that would actually draw him to you too. Kaeya seems like someone to enjoy a good mystery, so he would love to solve the mystery of the pretty stranger he noticed watching him.

Kaeya might not be as outwardly comedic as the other characters, but he would probably think him teasing you counts. He thinks he's funny at least when he gets to see your shocked expression when he throws a particularly open flirt your way. He just really likes to get under your skin in a good way especially if you react in a way that challenges or surprises him. I do not think Kaeya likes submissive and obedient types and much prefers someone who can stand equal to or challenge him. Your attitude would be something he finds very attractive in that regard.

On a less "Kaeya is a flirtatious jerk" note and more of a "Kaeya is an affectionate jerk" one, I do think he would love to spend quieter moments with you. Being cavalry captain is hard work y'know? So little moments just spending time together at home or coming back home and having a surprise of one of your cooked meals? He's simply delighted, even if he shows it in a more easy going fashion. Never expect to much praise from him, but he knows his manners and thanks you for the time you spend with him even on days when he might not be acting exactly himself for one reason or the other.

As a little bonus note, I think Kaeya would very much be the type of person to kiss little beauty marks, he thinks any little feature like that might be his favorite parts on you. Plus it gives him more room to tease you, getting to kiss close to your lips but not quite, and of course playful little neck kisses just for you.

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miscellaneous-bnha · 4 years

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Brought Back to Me (FULL)

(I meant to release it yesterday, but with burnout coming at me from all angles, I needed to take an extra day to breathe)

Tomura Shigaraki x Fem! Childhood Friend Reader

(Warm Bodies AU where they're less like zombies, but they're more mindless breeding machines and the only way to bring them back is by giving them intensely positive emotions.)

It's been months since the outbreak started.

One little quirk is all it took for all of Japan to fall into shambles. Curiously enough, only the men were affected by it, turning into insatiable beasts, searching endlessly for someone to breed mindlessly. Not really the undead, but not entirely human either.

Somehow, those who were able to escape from the clutches of such a dangerous quirk were only the men who already had partners, lovers. In some cases, those who were not sexually attracted to anyone-- and/or those who had impossibly strong bonds to their friends-- could also scrape by unaffected.

Unfortunately, the Safe Zone only allowed people in if they contributed to the saving of another.

—————————

He wanders about aimlessly, not remembering a single thing. Where he came from, who he was. His head felt like it was in a cloud, body heavy.

Though he doesn’t think much of it. This is all he’s known, after all. ‘Breed, breed, breed.’ echoes inside his head, eyes scanning the baren wasteland. The sound of quick shambling and panicked breaths hit his ears; ‘a chase’, he thinks, ‘follow.’

He finds his way towards the sound of aggravated groaning and hissing, careless fists slamming against doors. Locked in, it seems. Something tells him to put his hand on it, but nothing happens. He doesn’t know why he expected anything to happen.

The door flexes when a loud thud rams against it, and a tiny yelp behind the flipped dumpsters. The groans grow more aggressive, more hungry. ‘Breed breed breed breed breed breed breed—‘ bounces around more fiercely in his skull; he shuffles quietly over to the dumpster.

He can feel himself starting to salivate, the idea of finally being able to achieve his purpose growing more and more prominent. Peeking over the bags of trash, everything in him halts; big doe eyes stare up at him, afraid. Trembling, eyes leaking... water? ‘Tears,’ his brain supplies. Tears.

He doesn’t like them.

He watches for a moment; eyes scanning her trembling form. Another loud bang and the shriek of metal starting to give snaps him out of it. He takes her arm and yanks, dragging her out of the alley, sprinting passed the door just as the hinges burst.

He doesn’t need to breathe, heart doesn’t pump, yet his chest grows tight from the sound of her struggling to keep up. ‘Go slow. Slower.’ he complies, falling into stride. He feels something starting at him, so he turns back to look at her, grumbling, glaring.

Suddenly, he’s running into a building. She titters excitedly, too frantic to understand before she’s pulling away. Slamming the door shut and locking it. He’s a little confused; surely, she hasn’t forgotten what he is.

For a moment, she does. Her chest heaves with relief, sliding down before plopping in front of the door. He carries himself into the corner of the room, gurgling to himself.

She tenses, eyes darting to him; he squints back. ‘Now she remembers.’ he grunts.

He doesn’t know why the echo in his head went silent. The usual monotony of ‘breed’ long gone, ever since he laid eyes on her; replaced by ‘protect’ and it baffles him. Though, at the same time, it feels right.

She snivels, and his eyes latch back onto her. Still sitting by the cold door, staying away from him. He rolls his eyes and turns away, stuffing himself into the corner.

Some time goes by, how long he doesn’t know. Though he doesn’t need to know such irrelevant things. He gurgles in surprise when he feels something warm fall over him. He turns slowly, eyes meeting her curious ones.

“You’re strange, you know that?” She whispers; her eyes more curious than afraid. He only gurgles, letting the warmth of the blanket encompass him.

‘Warm is nice,’ he decides.

She rambles on about ‘no circulation’, or something like that. He doesn’t quite get it, but he doesn’t fight her when she insists he stand out in the sun, absorbing more of this ‘warmth’ thing he’s gotten addicted to.

He follows her around as she needs supplies, gurgling along quietly to her aimless conversations. He knows she’s only talking to fill the silence void (‘maybe she’s gone crazy,’ he thinks, ‘talking to someone who might not even understand.’) but somehow he appreciates it. Gives him something to think about.

Overtime, he finds himself enjoying her company. Mindless babble filling the everyday droning of grumbling footsteps passing by.

One day, she yelps in excitement over a can, startling him and every other mindless dolt in the area. He hisses in irritation, dragging her back to the safe house as quickly as he can. Despite the harrowing situation, she smiles, giggling with childlike glee.

He glares at her once they make it to safety, yet she hardly notices when she’s shoving the can into his face.

“Peaches! It’s canned peaches!” she cheers, prying the lid off with a can opener. The smell is sweet, unlike the usual foods she would find. He’s surprised when he feels his stomach growl instead of twist.

“Did.... did your stomach just growl?” she whispers, baffled. He shrugs, opting to pretend it never happened when it growls again. Her eyes light up.

“It did! It growled!” she laughs, then hands him a peach. He twists his face up, remembering the first time she had him try food. “C’mon, try! Maybe it’ll be different.”

He takes the peach from her hand, eyeing it distastefully before licking it. To his surprise, he didn’t feel sick. He stares at it for a moment before dropping it in his mouth. He feels satisfied rather than sick when he swallows.

“Fascinating...” she whispers, slowly approaching when he doesn’t immediately retch it back up. He eyes the can without realizing it, pouting when she offers him another peach with a coy smile. “See? Good thing I had you try.”

He takes it with a huff, grinning wryly.

That night, he dreams for the first time.

“Tenko...!” Echoes inside his ears. He feels his heart beat, and it nearly sends him stumbling from the shock.

“Tenko..!” Closer this time, but even as he spins endlessly to look, he doesn’t see anything.

“Tenko! Wake up, Tenko!” Its right next to him now, and it has him jolting awake

He sits up, but it’s still dark when he opens his eyes. He looks around frantically for her, finally calming when he sees her curled up on the sleeping mat. He scoots closer, putting a hand on her back, just enough to feel it rise and fall with each breath.

He settles.

He starts to realize he’s capable of doing more with each new event, and with each new event, he dreams.

The worst nights are when he can hear the voice screaming in agony:

“Tenko!! No!! TENKO!! STOP IT!” “GET AWAY! TENKO!”

The eventual sobbing that grows quieter and quieter, leaving him feeling colder and colder. He hates those nights.

Even when his heart isn’t beating, it still feels painful. His mind races with questions and anxiety (a feeling he wish he didn’t know).

He wonders if his name is— was— Tenko, or maybe someone he used to know? He’s not sure, but he’s afraid to find out.

Afraid.

Another emotion he was starting to know well. He finds himself afraid a lot more often too.

He’s afraid of waking up one night to find her gone. He’s afraid of losing her to some other mindless victim (if he could call them that. Men fallen to the quirk; victims). He’s afraid of watching her find companionship with another human.

He knows it’s selfish, but a part of him wants to stay just like this, with her.

Without knowing who he is.

Life is the sweetest when she’s sharing her canned peaches (the only thing his body cares to let him eat). Two unlikely friends, making the best of what they got, but then she starts telling him about her past.

“There used to be someone very important to me.” She said one restless night,

“He and I only ever had each other. Two peas in our own little pod.”

“We didn’t get along at first, but only because we were scared. Just the two of us, living on the street. He had the strangest way of holding things too, but I guess that was just because of his quirk.” Her eyes seemed so glassy, yet so clear. So far away, yet here all the same.

“We uh... used to huddle under the same blankets, just like this.” she slides next to him; she’s warm, yet somehow still so cold, “we even shared peaches too. He never admitted it, but they were his favorite. It’s a shame we couldn’t get them often.”

“Just us against the world...” he doesn’t like the sound her voice makes when it cracks, words turning into a strained whimper. He nudges himself closer to her hoping it’s of some comfort.

“Then some weird man came and took him away, and I never saw him since.” she sniffles and rubs at her eyes, “My Tenko.”

He goes completely stiff. He can tell she’s talking to him, but it’s drowned out by the sound of something rushing through his ears.

‘Tenko! Over here! Hurry!’ his body is so much smaller than he’s used to. He feels the pounding of his heart. It hurts. It hurts.

‘Tenko! No!! TENKO!!’ the agonized screams, and a little girl who looks a lot like her is reaching out through the fog towards him, eyes shining with desperate tears.

There’s the feeling of something grabbing him by the shirt, dragging him away. He knows he’s screaming, his throat burns with the force of his cry, but he can’t hear.

As quickly as it begins, it ends.

“Hey, are you ok?” She’s peering into his face, concern written all over hers. He gurgles, fighting with his own vocal chords.

“I-I-I’mmmm ssso-o-orrrry...” it’s gravelly and slurred, almost incomprehensible, yet she seems to know what he’d been trying to say, seeing as her eyebrows shot up in surprise.

“You... you talked. You actually talked!” She seems so excited for him, but then she frowns, worried.

“‘Sorry’? What for?? There’s no need to be sorry!” she rubs his back. Warm. He feels his chest squeeze.

He wants to try to talk again, even if to just make her smile, but his throat aches far too much, so he just gurgles softly, nudging his head onto her shoulder.

He practices his speech at night when she’s asleep. Quietly, of course, as to not disturb her, but it’s frustrating. Trying to sound out words messily.

“Mmmm-my nnnnnname....” his voice gives away to a wet growl, and he wheezes out a cough, “my nnname issss... Tennnko. Ten...ko. Tenko.”

He’s remembered a lot more after the first memory.

Rainy nights under the bridge, hushed giggles over a can of peaches.

Hard winters when all they had were a pile of blankets and each other.

The... THING that stole him away, abandoning her.

Quiet fury burns in him, but it fizzles out soon after when he hears her mumble in her sleep. It’s inaudible, and probably complete nonsense, but he likes to think that maybe she was dreaming of the good ol’ days too.

But only the good days, he hopes. Before ‘THAT’ day.

He whispers her name, stroking her back gently when she starts to fuss. ‘A nightmare,’ he muses, watching as she quickly settles back into a peaceful dream. She has them a lot, but he likes to think that they end as soon as he soothes her.

‘You’ve suffered enough.’

Thoughts come easier now as his memories come. Things that he isn’t proud of, things that makes him wonder if she’d hate him.

He remembers becoming ‘Shigaraki Tomura’, a name he thinks of in disdain.

He much prefers Tenko now.

“You know, you’ve been pretty warm lately. I guess sunning yourself every day does help.” She muses out loud, and he grumbles, pleased.

“Mmmaybe.”

“Hey! No stuttering this time! You’re getting better!” She smiles at him. He grunts, leaning against her.

“Oof— hey, easy there champ. You may not eat much, but you’re still heavy compared to me.” He hears her, smirking, but opts to lay more of his weight onto her.

“Hey! Come on!” She laughs, his gurgled wheeze of a laugh only making her laugh that much harder,

He thinks he feels his chest growing lighter in moments like these, wishing desperately that he could have been left unaffected.

He knows there’s no reason to worry about the past in his current state, but he still finds himself wishing.

“Hey, that’s weird,” She says to him one morning, ruffling his hair, “your hair is getting darker somehow.”

She shows him in the mirror what she’s talking about, and sure enough, there it is.

A tuft of black hair poking through the sea of pastel blue.

“How funny is that.” she grins. It’s lopsided and curious, but she just muses his hair one more time before going back to her morning routine.

Overtime, he notices more and more sprout in, and she always laughs at the bewildered look he always seems to have.

The first time he felt his heart beat was during one of those nights when you couldn’t sleep, so you would tell him about Tenko.

“I thought it could just be the two of us forever... In the same way kids feel when they ask each other to get married when they’re older.” Her words are melancholy, but her smile is peaceful, happy.

“I wanted it to just be the two of us against the world. All we needed was each other, maybe we could have been adopted by a nice couple or something, but still inseparable.”

He doesn’t say anything or make any sounds, so she continues.

“Sometimes I wonder if maybe we could have fallen in love.” He sputters then, heart thudding once, twice, then falling still. His hand smacks over his chest in shock, and for a moment, he wondered if that’s what it felt like to be alive.

“Is that really so ridiculous??” she snorts, not really offended, but not really as happy as he would like.

He shakes his head aggressively, and she laughs. Her smile is so genuine he almost misses out on the sweet kiss on the cheek she gives him.

“Thanks for always listening to me ramble. Actually—“ she sits up, and he watches her from his spot on the floor, “thanks for staying, even though you didn’t have to.”

He puts his hand over hers wordlessly, patting it gently.

“Always.”

He wonders if it’s possible to die without being alive.

He hopes it is.

When he wakes up, she’s gone. Nothing more than a note left behind.

‘Need food. Be back soon.’

A simple food run shouldn’t be such a big deal, but it’s climbed to be the most dangerous thing to do over the last 10 months (Has it really been that long?) and losing her so soon after getting her back is the last thing he wants.

He goes barreling out the door just in time to hear her scream.

His heart leaps into his throat. He feels sick, but the adrenaline pumps into his veins, and suddenly he’s running.

Heart racing, sweat dripping, lungs aching. His ears ring with the sound of her scream.

He stops, stomach acid rising into his throat. He feels far too sick. He runs his hands through his hair, he doesn’t even notice the light blue strands that fall away.

He hears her scream again, closer this time. He starts running again despite his shaking legs.

He barely makes it in time to see her get surrounded. The roar he lets out is nothing less than ground shaking, and it’s certainly enough to catch the attention of everyone in the vicinity.

He doesn’t remember what happened next. Colors and sound blend together to make a symphony of tragedy.

Memories and reality all blend until they start and end with her. Her.

“Tenko, my Tenko... you’re okay.” Sound re-emerges from the depths.

Warm. Warm. Warm.

She’s in his arms; so small in comparison to him. He remembers when she was the same size as him.

And, god, she’s so warm.

“Tenko.” His eyes open to meet hers. They’re glassy, but relieved. He whispers her name like it’s a prayer.

“Who would have thought this is how we meet after all these years, huh?” Her voice is soft. He finally realizes her hair is covered in dust. Dust. His dust.

He jumps back in a panic, afraid. He hadn’t been careful with his hands, hands.

“Tenko. It’s okay! It’s okay!” she soothes and grabs his hands freely, pressing his palms to her face.

She doesn’t decay like she should.

“Remember, Tenko? We practiced.”

Yes. Practiced. You helped stabilize his quirk long before he came. Promised to keep it between the two of them.

“Yes... yes... I remember...” he mumbles, and she places her hand over his chest.

“Your heart!” He nods,

“Yeah...”

“Does that mean—“

“Yeah...” he nuzzles his face against her shoulder.

“Warm...” she laughs gently,

“Yeah... you’ve always liked warm things.”

“Mm...” he stands, picking her up in the process, walking back in the direction of the safe house.

“We’ll head to the city zone tomorrow.”

“Okay... Tenko?”

“Mmh?”

“I’m glad you’re back.”

He smiles; he’s glad he’s back too.

#Crow Patreon #BNHA #BNHA Shigaraki #BNHA Shigaraki Tomura #Full Release #Female Reader #SFW #Shigaraki x reader #Warm Bodies AU

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psychdelia · 4 years

Text

season 3 but instead of billy, neil was flayed.

he had been acting... off the last couple of weeks. distant and withdrawn, completely the opposite of how he usually is with billy.

he first notices the difference in behavior when the abuse stops. maybe he gets home late for dinner and instead of the usual stern look he gets before a smack when max and susan go to bed, neil just smiles all big and wide, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes, before he welcomes his son home.

then neil starts coming home later and later, giving susan some bullshit excuse about work and overtime and she eats it right up. chooses to believe that he’s somehow morphed into the perfect husband and father overnight. on top of that, he smells like bleach and chemicals and his eyes seem so dead. billy can tell what the guy is thinking or feeling through one look at his expression, but now he’s just eerily blank.

so billy follows him on 4th of july, surprised to find himself in the starcourt parking lot for the second time that day - he dropped max off earlier to hang out with her shithead friends, but it’s past closing hours so she shouldn’t still be inside unless she’s at the movies, the only part of the mall that remains open late. he watches as neil marches into the mall, fists clenched at his side. billy has no idea why neil is even at the mall so late when he should be at work or wherever he’s been going and lying to susan about. so, he follows him in.

he doesn’t know what to expect, but seeing his little sister and her gaggle of friends screaming as neil gets closer and closer to them. squinting, billy can see black veins crawling their way up neil’s neck, discoloring his face and eyes. he jumps when he hears the first bang, the sound of a firework exploding way too close for comfort.

then he spots it. the huge slimey alien being that screeches when the first firework hits it, then second, third, and so on.

and like. what the fuck.

his eyes must be as wide as saucers as he stares at the thing, gangly and screeching with every hit, trying to swing at anyone it can reach. he doesn’t have time to process what the actual fuck he’s looking at when he hears someone yell his name. max.

“billy! BILLY!” she screams, absolutely terrified. “DO SOMETHING!” she demands.

immediately, his eyes search for fireworks. looking up, he finds harrington on the second floor in matching work uniforms with a girl - buckley, his brain distantly provides. they had the same ap literature class. the fireworks get louder and louder along with the monster. he eventually finds a small kiosk set up for the 4th, so he follows suit and grabs his lighter, blindly throwing at the monster as he watches the scene unfold in front of him. his father approaching a girl around max’s age with a maniacal expression on his face, eyes about to burst out of his goddamn head. he hears the kids screaming in protest to no avail. pretty soon, they run out of fireworks and his dad’s got this girl beneath him on the floor.

he’s about to intervene when the girl lets out this piercing scream, almost louder than the shadow, and suddenly his father is thrown up in the air then launched right at the monster. he’s caught mid-air by a tentacle - wait a goddamn second are those human body parts??? and teeth????? - right in the center of his chest. billy flinches, watching in horror as his father screams in pain before he’s dropped onto the floor, head smacking the tile before he goes limp.

it feels like the world goes still for a second, everyone standing still, eyes wide and mouths open in shock at the scene before them. distantly, he hears the monster screeching, but his eyes are locked on his father’s body - torn open and bleeding out. what eventually brings them all out of their stupor and back to the real world is the same girl standing and screaming at the monster, merely feet away from the thing. her hand is shaking in the air, nose dripping with blood as the monster’s screeches grow quieter, its body shrinking. soon enough, it hits the ground just like his father. limp and silent.

billy just watches the scene unfold, his mind racing yet completely blank. he knows he should move, grab as many little shits as he can and run, but he’s stock still, unable to process what he just witnessed. ironically, it ends up being the kids who run to him first.

“billy,” max calls as she reaches him. “billy!” she grabs his shoulders, shaking him until he acknowledges her. “billy we have to go. now! come on billy let’s go!” her hands are shaking as she grips his shoulders.

he blinks a couple of times before he nods once, then again.

“shit!” he hears harrington yell, footsteps approaching them as the two teenagers run down from the top floor right before it comes crashing to the ground. soon enough, the mall is falling apart, the ceiling caving in.

billy finally kicks into action, wild eyes and expressions matching everyone else’s as the teens drag the kids out of there, the group sprinting outside in time to watch the mall crumble to the ground with his dad’s body trapped in it.

he doesn’t know how much time has gone by when ambulances, fire trucks and police cars appear. he’s stuck in place as parents reunite with their children while paramedics check on everyone, wrapping heavy blankets around them. billy manages to sneak off to the side, hiding behind an ambulance. he spots max with sinclair and susan, harrington with buckley, girl and boy wheeler close to the three byers, accompanied by the police chief.

billy’s alone, he realizes. he looks back at the mall, now in flames and taking his father down with it. his hands and legs begin to tremble and he’s sliding down the side of the ambulance, unable to breathe as he hits the floor. hugging his knees to his chest and holding his head low, he takes in short breaths and ends up wheezing, unable to get enough air into his lungs. he doesn’t realize he’s crying until his vision is blurred and cheeks are wet. he’s hyperventilating and is pretty sure he’s about to black out.

billy’s alone.

everyone here has someone and he doesn’t.

his mother left and now his father is gone and he doesn’t, can’t understand why. yeah, neil was abusive and cruel but he was all billy had left. he lost his friends, the ocean, his life the second neil ripped him away from california and dragged him to a state where he knew he’d get hurt if neil caught him with a boy again like in cali, except this time he knew it wouldn’t be just neil pounding on him for his “sickness.”

billy misses his mom. wants nothing more than to be held and comforted by her. to hear her soft voice as she sings or hums or shushes him as she rubs his back and plays with his hair and kisses his head and tells him everything’s going to be alright.

except everything’s not going to be alright and now he’s sobbing silently, soft whimpers and harsh wheezing being the only noise leaving his body.

with the rest of the world tuned out and only hearing his own choked sobs and sharp breaths, he flinches when he feels the hand on his shoulder, trying to scramble away from it.

“hey,” the soft voice says. “its okay. hey, kid, it’s okay. it’s just me.” she immediately pulls her hand away, holding both up to prove herself as unthreatening. “just me.” she repeats gently.

billy slowly raises his head, eyes and cheeks red and blotchy and puffy and wet. he finds exhausted, sad brown eyes looking over him.

“oh, kiddo, you look like you’ve seen hell.” she sounds motherly. “c’mon, breathe with me. take deep breaths, okay? count with me.” she encourages as she kneels down to his level. “deep breaths. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, breathe. in and out, just like that. you’re doing good.”

pretty soon, his wheezes and rushed breaths even out. he takes his first deep breath of fresh air, releasing a shaky relieved sigh.

“you must be billy, max’s brother. i’m joyce, jonathan’s mom.” she introduces, except neither of them are in the mood for small talk. “i, uh,” she sighs. “there’s a lot we all have to talk to you about,” she sits down beside him. “but that can wait,” she assures. “until you’re ready.” she adds on quietly.

he stares at her a couple seconds before he breaks again, a strangled loud sob ripping its way through his chest and out of his mouth. he doesn’t even think about it before he launches himself at her, fully prepared to cry to this woman he’s barely met yet spent hours knocked out cold on her ground only after breaking one of her nice plates.

she - joyce - seems to have the same idea because as soon as he starts crying again she’s opening her arms and reaching for him. they meet halfway in the middle.

“it’s not fair.” billy chokes out, trembling in joyce’s surprisingly strong arms as she holds him upright. “it’s not fair.” he repeats, louder yet more broken.

“i know, sweetheart.” she nods, rubbing circles on his back with one hand, the other gently running through his hair. “god i know.” she sighs and, poor woman, it sounds like she’s been through it. he vaguely remembers hearing about her sons - zombie boy and creepy byers. his brain isn’t processing enough to connect any dots just yet.

“she-she just left,” he holds onto joyce tightly. “she left and now he’s gone.” he cries. “he’s gone.” he repeats, again and again. “they all leave. why do they all leave?” he asks weakly.

joyce’s heart breaks for the boy shaking apart in her arms, using her last remaining strength to hold him upright and provide any comfort she can. she can’t help but look around, searching the crowd for anyone who might be there for him. she frowns when she finds everyone’s eyes on them yet no one making any moves to approach. she wishes she could hate them all a little bit for it, for leaving him alone. letting him feel alone and unwanted. unlovable. she knows the feeling and it’s the worst.

“well, blondie, looks like you’re stuck with me now.” her attempt to make him feel less lonesome seems to work, just a little, if the way he squeezes her for a second is anything to go by. “i don’t give up. i don’t leave. i promise.” she kisses the top of his head, gets the scent of hairspray, cigarettes and ash.

over the top of his head she finds steve harrington still watching them, a distant look in his eyes. he seems conflicted, staring at billy with wariness as he bounces nervously from foot to foot, holding the blanket hanging loosely around his torso.

he seems to make a decision when billy releases another sob at her promise, striding over and draping his blanket over billy’s shoulders. he goes out of his way to tighten it around him, making sure it’s comforting and cozy around his trembling figure. he hesitates once again as he goes to walk away, fist clenching and unclenching at his side before he looks back to billy with sad, tired eyes and rests his hand on the blonde’s shoulder, squeezing just once before he walks away. the same hand is nervously flexing at his side once again.

#harringrove #billy hargrove #steve harrington #this is not good nor accurate by any means do not expect much pls #crybaby billiam rights #i love love love joyce and billy #and i hate neil hargrove so this works out lol #fuck u neil #rip neil but i’m built different #anyways i had a bad day and cried so i projected and made billy cry 😌☺️#this hc has also been in my mind for a while and i knew i wouldn’t write it for ao3 so here it is hdjsjsj #joyce byers #my writing

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mssuccbuss · 3 years

Text

The “Question” Nanami Kento

JJK Nanami x my black OC Ryan (y/n if you want to put yourself in her shoes, be my guest)

warnings: none

Word Count: 807

Self Headcanon : Boyfriend Kento with a biracial black woman

Casual Dates

Nanami and Yaga casual dates would include walks in the parks, coffee time at their locate spot, and idly letting little miss Ryan run up a check at the boutiques.

The days, evening and nights spent walking throughout the park was peaceful. Though verses their moments shopping and Nanami blowing his extra income on Yaga was a bit hectic. The middle ground was catching a quick bite to eat and a cup of coffee, it could a busy day for the shop, but the time was well spent. Nanami would usually arrange their time together before or after he finished work for that day. Yet, Nanami had no idea Yaga was sneaking out all this time. Yes, she lived by herself and not with her family, but she was still not allowed to just go out and about without a word to her father.

Nanami thought he was making her anxious as she had totally zoned. “Yaga? No honey for your tea this time?” Nanami asked, trying to snap her out of it.

Yaga shook her head rather fast as she caught herself and then realized she was at the coffee shop with Nanami. “Oh...I’m sorry, yes please.”

Nanami requested honey along with their orders as he then leaned forward to brush Yaga’s right side of her hair behind her ear. “You’re a lot quieter today, did I do something? Was it last night? I’m sorry I left unexpected.”

“It's fine its fine, I know. But hey at least you went into overtime.” Yaga laughed softly as she rubbed little fingers together, signing money.

Nanami let out a soft sigh as in yeah, the money was good, but he didn’t want it to interfere with making this woman his. He knew falling for someone was never the plan, especially being a sorcerer. Nanami would eventually have to make a rather tough decision.

The Date Night

Nanami made sure he had tonight completely off, hell the man even made his phone DND after 5:00pm so work could definitely not bother him. Tonight, was the night he had to ask the question. Just like their first date, Nanami spared no expenses. He wanted to of course see her all dressed up, but when he offered a nice restaurant, Yaga said no. She settled for a pub instead and said she just wanted a relaxing night this time around, not super expensive. Ryan’s outfit: https://i.pinimg.com/originals/ad/9a/f5/ad9af5b7cf4c9f46dcd536d96d2080c3.jpg Kento’s outfit: https://i.pinimg.com/originals/e5/62/66/e5626632eb9c53c69a82c0e14518a7d4.jpg

Ryan decided to meet him at the bar for a change. Once she saw Nanami enter at the front, she waved at him. “Nanami!” She said loud enough to grasp his attention

“You know I could pick you up like the usual.” Nanami stated, taking his seat at the little booth she managed to get.

“Yeah, I know, but it's okay.” Yaga shrugged her shoulders.

Nanami could tell there was something on her mind, but he wasn’t the type to press on it. He knew she’ll manage to say something sooner or later.

They placed their orders and not long their meals arrived. As the pair ate, drank and talked their way through dinner. “I have something to ask you.” They both literally said at the same time, gaining a chuckle from both of them.

“You first.” Ryan insisted, taking a sip from her cocktail

“No, ladies first.” Kento flashed a smile, finishing his vegetables.

“Okay, how about we both go?” Ryan suggested.

One. Two...Three!

“Are you okay with me telling my father about us?”

“Will you be my girlfriend?”

Both questions were in the same playing field, but at the same time different.

“Girlfriend?” Ryan blushed deeply, placing her hands over her cheeks. “I’m honored, Nanami. Yes, I will be your girlfriend.”

“Wait...your father has no idea we been seeing each other?” Nanami asked but then realized she basically agreed to become his girlfriend. “Really? You will be my girlfriend?!”

Ryan avoided his question prior to being asked her father situation. “Of course, I’ll be your girlfriend. Why wouldn’t I?”

Being overjoyed with her agreeing to become officially his partner, Nanami totally forgot his second question. He reached over the table to take hold of her one of hands, holding it tightly within his callous hands. “Thank you, Ryan.” His soft smile was charming, matching his warm lips as he placed a gentle kiss against the back of her hand.

“Thank you as well, Kento.” Ryan’s smile was even bigger then Nanami’s.

It was official, the duo that was Nanami Kento and Yaga Ryan was a couple. A couple that would have to overcome certain trials, but none the less a happy couple.

(If you want a mini series or nsfw, likes/reblogs are apperciated and requests are okay for JJK for Suguru, Toji, Sukana, and Kento)

#nanami kento #nanami x reader #jjk nanami #jujutsu kaisen nanami #jjk kento #nanami kento x you #jjk #jjk headcanons #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen headcanons #nanami #kento #jujustu kaisen #black reader #black oc

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half-bakedboy · 3 years

Photo

Evan “Buck” Buckley/Eddie Diaz | Rated T | Chapters 1/11 | Posting Every Other Day

When Maddie showed up at the one-eighteen covered in bruises and needing a place to stay, Buck didn't hesitate to let her into his home and the new life he had created in L.A. While he was happy to have his sister back, he was tired of insisting to her that he wasn't as lonely as she accused him of being. So when she assumes he's in some secret relationship with his coworker and best friend, Eddie, Buck decides it couldn't hurt to tell a little white lie, especially when it meant his sister could focus on something that wasn't her own past.

Now Buck is stuck trying to navigate through a ruse of his own creation while dealing with newfound feelings for his best friend that seemed to sneak up on him.

Oh, and did he mention the mysterious accelerant that kept finding itself in his path, putting everyone he loves in danger?

read chapter one on ao3

“I’m just worried about you, Evan,” Maddie sighed into the phone. Buck’s heart did that stupid little stutter directly correlated with disappointing his sister and he held the phone away from his face as if that would lessen the guilt he felt.

“Mads, I’m—”

“You’re not fine.”

Buck sighed. “I wasn’t going to say fine. I was going to say—” Buck thought for a second, but his sister was right—as she usually was—and who was he to argue with her? “Alright, I was going to say fine, but it’s because it’s true!” Buck urged, hoping that the more times he said it, the more likely she’d be to believe it. (Maybe he could convince himself of the fact along the way.)

“It’s been almost two months since Abby—”

“Really, big sis? You just gotta bring that up?” He complained, groaning more than audibly as he stared up at the firehouse ceiling. He had found in the last few weeks of overtime shifts that counting the tiles and slabs that made up the structure was a great way to pass the time.

“Yes, little bro, I have to bring it up because I’m—”

“—Worried about you.” Buck finished the sentence with her and prepared for annoyance or, at the very least, another deep sigh, but instead, she stayed quiet as if giving him the chance to speak up.

Another sigh resonated before Maddie said, “You’re all alone in this big city with no family. You have to understand my worry.”

“I do, I really do, but I’m finally finding myself here. The 118 has really taken me in as their own; they’re friends who almost qualify as family at this point!” Buck argued, running a hand through his hair. Maddie couldn’t possibly understand what his fellow firefighters had meant to him.

“Have you at least started dating yet?” Maddie asked. Buck resisted the urge to hang up on her and took a deep breath as he considered her question. He could tell the truth, which was that he hadn’t so much as touched a woman since Abby tore his heart out of his chest and stomped it into the ground.

Or…

“I’m dabbling,” he decided to say instead.

It wasn’t completely a lie. He had decided a few days ago with a lot of pressure from Hen and Karen that he needed to at least attempt to get back out there and downloaded one of the most popular dating apps he could find. He set up his profile—albeit very scarcely—and had been waiting for those likes to come in. What he wasn’t expecting was almost complete radio silence and for his ego to take a direct hit when Chim got a date within the first hour of downloading it.

“Anyone I should know about?” For some reason, Buck wasn’t expecting the question. He thought that Maddie would shy away from asking or just be happy that Buck had divulged even just that little bit of information, but no. She just had to put her brother on the spot and have him panicking about what to say.

“Soon?” He sputtered, immediately regretting his words the moment Maddie’s small squeal echoed through the speaker.

“Evan Buckley, I knew you were keeping something from me the second you said you were fine! You knew that I wouldn’t just take that laying down, right? You must’ve!” The happiness in her voice broke Buck’s heart a little further and he couldn’t back down; not when her joy was so obvious in her rambling and the way she giggled into the phone.

“I— It’s really new, Mads,” Buck muttered as he tilted his head to the side and let his phone rest against his cheek.

“New is good and you deserve good, Buck,” Maddie said, the words like a gentle caress to his cheek that he would have leaned into if she was there. As if an idea had just occurred to her, Maddie gasped and said excitedly, “I’m gonna come visit. I’ve gotta meet this family of yours and you can’t avoid introducing me to whoever is making your life a little less lonely if I show up at your door.” Buck was annoyed that she had a point, but the prospect of having his sister around after a few years of space had his heart warming in his chest.

“You’re welcome here any time, Mads. I’ve really missed—”

“I’ve gotta go,” Maddie said, her voice quieter and a bit more panicked than Buck would ever have wanted to hear. “Doug needs me to— Well, he just needs me. Will you please stop being such a stranger and let me in on your life from now on, little brother?” Buck rolled his eyes at the term of endearment but agreed easily anyway.

“You know everything there is to know, sis.”

He wished he could be surprised when he got the text a few hours later that a trip to L.A. just wasn’t in the cards for her.

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

The one-eighteen was quiet—though Buck wouldn’t dare say the word—for the majority of his shift a few days after his call with Maddie, which he was grateful for because Bobby was tabling his famous pasta bar as Buck skipped up the firehouse steps. The rest of the team was already seated in their usual spots and Buck took his next to the newest recruit, Eddie, elbowing his side as he leaned to scoop up the first piece of lasagna.

“Ay, the rest of us eat first, unless you’re planning on serving me, Diaz,” Buck teased with an over-exaggerated wink.

“You know I just live to serve you, Buckley,” Eddie shot back easily and Buck couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled up inside of him. It had been their thing since the new guy started. Buck would flirt with him until the rest of the team groaned or stopped it and apparently, Hen was at her wits end already if the piece of bread that slammed into Buck’s head was any indication.

“ Jeez , Hen, we’re just having some fun,” Buck pouted, taking a large bite out of the piece of food that landed on his plate.

“Do you always have to flirt with the newbie? It’s honestly sickening,” Hen complained with a roll of her eyes but Buck knew there was no heat in her words. He realized that look was all too similar to the one his sister would have given him. Buck laughed and tossed a grape tomato in her direction in retaliation.

“There’s no stopping us now,” Buck assured her with a wink.

And there really wasn’t. Buck and Eddie had been like that since the very beginning, and they only grew more comfortable and in sync in the few months they had spent working together. Eddie had joined the team as an openly gay single dad with no hesitation and Buck had respected that immediately. He was not one to hide his interest in any and all genders, but he wasn’t exactly waving a flag when he started at the one-eighteen.

There was about a minute of silence when Eddie introduced himself before Buck decided that the best way to smooth him onto the team dynamic was to hit on him. Buck made a ridiculous come-on about a firehose that was brushed aside by the rest of the team, but Eddie laughed and gave it right back. The two had been fast friends ever since, much to the dismay of the rest of their team.

“What’s everyone’s plans for the next three days off?” Buck asked as he stacked both his and Eddie’s plates full of food, tossing an untouched piece of bread behind his back that Eddie caught seamlessly just before it landed in his salad dressing.

“Christopher and I have a Marvel marathon planned that I couldn’t even try to get out of,” Eddie offered, slurping up a spaghetti noodle as Buck sat back down. “Which reminds me that he wanted me to ask you if you could come?” Eddie asked, peering at Buck out of the corner of his eye. Buck wasn’t sure where the sudden shyness had come from, but before he could ask or answer, Bobby was chiming in.

“May and Harry are with Michael so I will be finally showing Athena that my cooking skills are not just for show,” Bobby said with a large smile on his face. Buck liked seeing him like that, unapologetically happy for the new life he was starting.

“I’m planning on sleeping until my alarm goes off in three days,” Chim laughed from where he leaned back in his chair. “What about you, Buckaroo?”

“Well, I was going to try and find a date because my sister won’t stop bugging me about being single, but…” He trailed off, cupping Eddie’s shoulder tightly in his hand, “I just got an offer I’d be a fool to refuse.”

Eddie smiled and shrugged off Buck’s touch with a fond roll of his eyes before they focused on his plate. Buck glanced around at his team with an uncontrollable smile on his face as they bantered and laughed and listened intently to whatever story Hen was telling about her son, Denny. He thought back to his conversation with Maddie and how worried she had sounded for him, as if he was alone without Abby.

He wasn’t. His team—their laughter and camaraderie, their friendship and love, their shared stories and experience—was everything he needed.

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

Buck was stuck with the dishes once the table was cleared, but he didn’t mind. He liked to get lost in the mundane task of scrubbing and cleaning, the clanging of the dishes a friendly reminder that he had spent much-needed bonding time with his team. Plus, doing the dishes meant he got to decide where they would go out after their shift and he had the best places in mind.

“Ma’am, are you okay?” Buck heard Chim’s voice softer than he expected from the second-floor terrace.

“I’m— That’s just the question of the day, isn’t it?” Buck’s heart dropped as he recognized the all too familiar voice and before he could think twice, his legs were bringing him down the stairs in a sprint. “I’m looking for—”

“Maddie?” Buck asked. When she turned, he caught sight of the bruises littering her face and peaking out from underneath the collar of her shirt. The long sleeves did nothing to hide the darkness around her wrists and she didn’t even try to cover up the gashes on her cheek and lip.

“Hey, Evan,” she said weakly, a forced smile tugging at her lips. Buck had her in his arms before her legs could fully give out and he held her tightly to his chest, careful of the soreness he knew was probably hidden underneath her clothes.

“Hey, hey, I got you. I got you, you’re okay,” Buck whispered into her hair as she sobbed, nails clawing at his back that probably would have hurt if he wasn’t so focused on providing his sister comfort. He caught Chim’s eyes over her shoulder, EMT bag in hand, and shook his head, searching the room for Hen. Chim seemed to understand exactly what he was doing and ran to the back where Buck was pretty sure Hen was resting.

“I didn’t know where else to go,” Maddie choked out as she tried to pull away. Buck wouldn’t let her, though, as he threaded his fingers through her hair and kissed her temple softly.

“Here is perfect, okay? Don’t worry about it,” Buck reassured. He wasn’t sure exactly what to say to her. He had known her relationship with Doug wasn’t the best and there was no doubt in his mind that that monster had hurt her. The way her body trembled and her voice shook had Buck feeling uneasy himself as he led her to one of the more comfortable couches in the station.

“Hey, sweetie, I’m Hen. You’re Buck’s sister? Maddie?” Hen said as she approached, carefully as if walking up to an easily spooked animal. Buck appreciated it as much as it hurt him to see.

“That’s me, the overbearing big sister,” Maddie attempted to joke, but it fell flat to everyone that had gathered around except for Buck.

“I don’t think I ever used the word ‘overbearing’ specifically. Maybe persistent, annoying was probably dropped in there a time or two,” Buck teased. He was too grateful when Maddie’s hand came up to swat his shoulder to focus on the wince on her face at the movement.

“She can’t be worse than you, Buckaroo,” Chim chimed in from where he stood a few feet away, flanked by Bobby and Eddie, who Buck noted was paying closer attention to where he kneeled beside his sister than he was at Maddie like everyone else.

“I promise I’m not,” Maddie said weakly. Buck held onto her hand delicately as Hen settled beside her, the EMT bag on her lap.

“Any family of Buck’s is family of ours,” Bobby stated, nodding at Hen as if giving her the okay to fully check up on her.

“He’s told me a lot about you guys, his family away from family. I—” Maddie’s breath hitched as Hen pressed her thumbs over the bruises along her collarbones and she pressed her lips together to compose herself before she continued. “I’m sorry for barging in this way, looking like—”

“—Like a Buckley?” Eddie offered, easing the bit of tension of what wasn’t being said in the room. Buck sent him a thankful nod as he squeezed his sister’s hand. “We’ve heard y’all are prone to accidents. The number of times I’ve had to patch up this one on company time is too many and counting.” Buck laughed and tossed a friendly finger in Eddie’s direction, smiling when Maddie seemed to relax at the banter.

“This one is always tossing himself into the fire quite literally, huh?” Maddie asked. Buck could tell she was relieved to have the conversation moved away from her and he didn’t mind being the target for her benefit.

“I’ve only been here for a few months, but I’m pretty sure Buck would put anyone before himself.” Eddie’s voice was a lot closer than Buck had expected and he didn’t realize how much tension was building up inside of him until Eddie’s hand landed in between his shoulder blades. He glanced up to catch his friend’s eye, smiling softly at the steady and comforting press on his back.

“Yeah, that’s exactly who he is,” Maddie muttered. When Buck glanced up at her, her eyes were narrowed and darted back and forth between him and Eddie accusatorily. That was not good . Buck cleared his throat.

“Can you guys give us a minute?” Buck asked.

Eddie ran his hand up to Buck’s shoulder, squeezing gently and Buck couldn’t resist reaching up to let his palm brush over the back of Eddie’s hand, letting him know how much the gesture was appreciated. Bobby and Chim hesitantly nodded in response before they all disappeared, leaving an even more tense Maddie and nerve-filled Buck alone with Hen who was treating the cut on Maddie’s cheek.

As if scared for Buck to ask, Maddie offered, “It had been a few months, Buck. I thought— I really thought he had changed.” Buck sighed and rested his forehead on Maddie’s knee, relaxing only marginally when Maddie’s hand patted the back of his head.

“What was it this time? Did you argue with him a little too hard? Maybe you didn’t reach the level of perfection he always required of you?”

“Buck—” Hen warned, shooting a look that could kill in Buck’s direction.

“No, it’s— It’s okay. He’s right either way,” Maddie relented with a deep sigh. “It had been building since I said I wanted to visit you in L.A. I told him that you had alluded to seeing someone and that I wanted to see if it was true. He said I couldn’t go, that he was the only family I needed, and when I argued against that…” Maddie trailed off, gesturing to her face and that was enough for Buck to put together what happened next.

“He did this because of me?” Buck’s voice shook as he glanced back at his sister, reaching a hand up to stroke a finger over the dark bruise on her jaw. Maddie grabbed it and turned toward her brother, leveling their eyes together with a protectiveness in them that provided him the calm he needed.

“This was not your fault, Evan,” Maddie said sternly.

“It’s neither of your faults,” Hen added, resting her palm on Maddie’s arm softly. Maddie nodded and smiled at Hen as brightly as she could given the circumstances.

“She’s right and I came here because I can’t have this happen anymore,” Maddie stated, holding onto Buck’s hand a little tighter. “You mentioned your captain’s girlfriend was a cop?”

Buck nodded and wrapped his arms around his sister, wishing he had never let go in the first place.

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

Athena had arrived at the station quicker than Buck had expected her to. Upon seeing him, she pulled him into a tight hug that he didn’t realize he had needed so much before disappearing into Bobby’s empty office with Maddie. He didn’t trust just anyone with his sister, but the second the door shut, he felt like he could finally take a breath.

He was flanked by both Hen and Eddie in a flash while Chim paced in front of them, chewing on a piece of beef jerky to stay occupied. Bobby watched from above, silently observing his team, and looking ready to step in if Buck needed it. They were all there for him and when the door finally opened after what felt like hours later, the smile that tugged at the corner of Maddie’s lips told Buck she had seen just that.

“Again, I’m really sorry for—” Athena shook her head and pointed a finger at Maddie, effectively stopping her unneeded apology.

“You’ll only have to be sorry if you don’t let this one take care of you the way you deserve,” she said, raising her eyebrows like a challenge. Maddie pressed her lips together and nodded bashfully as she leaned into the arm Buck had thrown around her neck.

“Buck, shift’s just about over. Why don’t you show your sister where she’ll be staying?” Bobby said. It was an order as much as a suggestion but Buck was going to take him up on it either way.

“Yeah, that sounds great. Let me know if you need me to come back in.” Bobby silenced him with one look.

“We can survive the next hour without you, man,” Eddie chimed in. He walked over and pulled Buck into a one-armed hug as if he knew nothing could pry him away from his sister. Buck was grateful for the extra warmth Eddie provided him, either way.

“If you guys need anything, you know where we’ll be,” Hen assured, rubbing a gentle palm down Maddie’s arm until their hands were connected. Maddie squeezed it tightly and mouthed her thanks at Hen who brushed it off with a wave of her hand.

“I can’t thank you guys enough,” Buck began, but he stopped himself from saying any more before any of his team could argue. “I’ll see you in a few days?” He asked, directing his attention to Bobby so he could let his captain know that his sister arriving wouldn’t impact his work. As if he already knew, Bobby nodded and wrapped an arm around Athena’s waist.

“We’ll probably see you before then,” Bobby offered with a slight wink and Buck laughed.

“You guys sure I can steal my little brother away early?” Maddie asked nervously.

“Now that you’ve teased us with him leaving, you can’t take it back,” Eddie said from beside Buck. They both had to laugh and Buck punched Eddie’s arm in retaliation only for Eddie to grab onto his hand tightly, not letting him pull away yet. His voice was low as he muttered, “You’ll let me know if you need anything?”

It was meant to be a question, but Buck knew it wasn’t. Everyone around them was so focused on Maddie and her injuries—which Buck couldn’t blame them for—that none of them really stopped to think how tough the next few days may be for the Buckley’s as a whole. But not Eddie. Just one glance from his friend told Buck that Eddie was well aware of the toll this might take on Buck’s good-natured mind and that Eddie was going to be there through it all.

“Yeah,” Buck confirmed, resting a hand on Eddie’s neck in a friendly gesture of comfort, “I’ll call you.”

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

“I’m not going back there,” Maddie said the minute the door to Buck’s apartment shut.

“I know you’re not,” Buck agreed because even if she hadn’t made the choice herself, he wasn’t going to see his big sister hurt like that again.

“I grabbed what I could before I left and it’s going to take me a little while to get back on my feet, but—”

“Hey,” Buck said gently, wrapping his arms around his sister once more, “we’re gonna figure this out. It’s always been just the two of us, right? Sure, a few years have gone by, but you’re still the most important person in the world to me and we’re going to figure this out.” He repeated, believing the words so fully that Maddie must have, too. Her shoulders slumped in either relaxation or defeat, Buck couldn’t be sure which, and she pulled away enough for Buck to press a soft kiss to her forehead.

“Can I stay here for a little? Just until—”

“Maddie, stop. You’re staying here whether you like it or not,” Buck said with a laugh, ruffling her hair in his hand before she could swat him away.

“I just don’t want to impose on any guests you might have around,” Maddie said, crossing her arms over her chest and glancing around his apartment as if looking for signs of additional life.

Buck sighed, “Go take a shower while I make up some dinner.” Maddie’s laugh was so refreshing, the tension of the last few hours seemed to fall right off of his shoulders.

When he heard the water turn on, he busied himself with finding dinner even though he was still full from the large lunch at the station. He wasn’t sure when the last time Maddie had eaten was but her skin was too pale even through the bruises for him not to offer her something good. He rummaged through his cabinets for way too long, losing track of time as he listened to Maddie’s voice stop and start in the shower.

He used to love listening to her sing. She had always been carefree and beautiful and that was always something he admired. He could hear the hesitance in her voice as she weakly sang through the chorus of one of her favorite country songs and wished he could heal whatever it was inside that had her balking. Buck loved her more than anything in the world.

With a deep breath, he reminded himself that she had made that first step, the one he had wanted her to so many years before. He smiled to himself, grateful that she made it back to him mostly in one piece. Even though she didn’t have that fire in her eyes that he remembered, he knew that her deciding to come home to him was the spark she needed to light it back up.

A knock at the door had him cursing because the water had shut off and he still didn’t have dinner on the table. When he opened the door and saw Eddie, two pizza boxes in hand, he thought he might cry.

“I figured you usually go grocery shopping with Chris and I and we’re running low on food for two so—” Buck interrupted him by wrapping him another suffocatingly tight hug.

“Man, you could not have arrived at a better fucking time,” Buck sighed with relief. “I can’t believe you did this for her,” he muttered mostly to himself. Eddie opened his mouth, but before he could respond, Maddie trotted down the stairs, patting her hair down with a towel.

“Eddie, right?” She asked, a twinkle in her eye that Buck wasn’t too fond of given the situation. “Did you bring us dinner?”

Eddie nodded and mumbled, “Yeah, for, uh, you actually.” Buck took the pizza boxes from his hands and Eddie immediately ran his fingers through the hair on the back of his neck as if suddenly bashful. Buck thought he looked more adorable than usual but brushed it aside.

“That is so sweet of you,” Maddie said, knocking her hip against Buck’s. “Isn’t that so sweet of him, Evan?” Eddie snickered and Buck knew it was because of the use of his first name. He shot an unimpressed glance at Eddie who pressed his lips together in return as if holding back more laughter.

“Eddie’s just a regular old saint if you ask anyone,” Buck explained with much more sarcasm in his voice than he really intended. Maddie didn’t seem to notice as she smiled up at Eddie.

“Are you staying for dinner? I’m sure Buck would appreciate the company,” Maddie said happily, side-eyeing Buck as if he’d even thought to go against her words.

“Oh, no, I gotta get back to my kid,” Eddie said, gesturing with his thumb over his shoulder. Buck knew Christopher wasn’t with him or else he would have asked them both to come inside.

“You have a kid?” Maddie asked, mouth agape for reasons Buck didn’t know but would definitely ask her about later.

“Yeah, Christopher. He’s—”

“—The best kid in the entire world,” Buck interrupted, turning to his sister. “Maddie, this kid is a spitfire and he’s got jokes and comebacks for everything, I swear! And he’s like the smartest 8-year-old I’ve ever met, not that I’ve hung out with many 8-year-olds, but still. You’re gonna love him!” Buck decided. He must have been rambling as both his sister and Eddie were staring over at him with amused looks on their faces. “…What?”

“I mean, I was just gonna tell her his age, but I guess all that stuff is true, too,” Eddie teased. He flinched when Buck swatted at him with the hand that wasn’t holding the pizza.

“He sounds incredible. I hope I get to meet him?” Maddie asked. Buck nodded quickly and a smile Buck wasn’t sure he had ever seen before tugged at the corner of Eddie’s lips. Buck was just about to offer for them to come over the following night when he remembered what he had already agreed to.

“Oh, crap. The Marvel movie night!” Buck exclaimed as he finally set the pizzas down on the side table. “Did you already tell Chris I was gonna join?”

“Yeah, but it’s totally fine. I’m sure he’ll understand that your sister is here and—”

“Nonsense! You promised that kid a movie night, he’s gonna get a movie night!” Maddie shouted as she opened up the pizza box and helped herself to a slice. Buck was glad she seemed to still have the appetite he remembered. “I don’t mind having a night to myself. It’s been too long since I’ve been able to just cry over a sad Hallmark movie with a glass of wine, you know?” Buck didn’t, but he also really wanted to hang out with the Diazes.

“We can always reschedule. Marvel isn’t going anywhere,” Eddie offered, but Maddie just shook her head and slapped Buck’s arm like it was his job to convince Eddie he would be a fool to do that.

“I’ll be over tomorrow at five with sandwiches to pay you back for tonight, okay?” Buck said softly, holding Eddie’s bicep in his palm. A blush covered his face and Buck wasn’t sure why he was being so nervous all of a sudden; they bantered and touched like that all the time.

“Yeah, okay. Maddie, thank you for letting me steal him and enjoy the pizza. Buck, I’ll, uh, see you tomorrow.” He waved as he backed away and Buck watched as he jumped into his car and drove off.

Once the door was shut, Maddie smacked him on the arm and Buck recoiled, sending a confused glance at his sister.

“What the hell was that for?” Buck asked, rubbing his skin even though it really didn’t hurt that bad.

“I can’t believe you didn’t tell me you were dating a coworker !” Maddie shouted, gaping at Buck with joy in her eyes that he had missed more than he realized. He was so focused on her happiness, it took him more than a few reasonable moments to realize what she had said.

“I’m— Wait, what?” Buck asked, pausing mid-bite on the piece of the pepper and sausage pizza he made a mental reminder to thank Eddie for tomorrow.

“Eddie?!” Maddie repeated in a squeal. “I knew after our conversation that whoever you were dating wasn’t just any old person, but another firefighter? A male firefighter at that? No wonder you didn’t want to tell me yet!” Buck blanched and finished chewing his pizza carefully so as to not choke.

“Maddie, I mean this with no malice and all confusion; what the absolute fuck are you talking about?” Maddie scoffed and grabbed the pizza boxes, wandering to the living room and placing them on the coffee table. She made her way into the kitchen to grab two beers from the fridge before settling down next to Buck who had to sit on the couch and think before he fell over.

“Oh, you cannot even pretend that you guys aren’t head over heels for each other. The hand on your back at the station? The side hug? Bringing you pizza after a rough day? The blushing?!” Maddie raised her eyebrows at Buck and he honestly didn’t know how to respond.

He should have said it was nothing. He should have said they were the only two openly not-straight men that he knew of who worked at the LAFD and were closer because of that. He should have said that they were just friends who put their lives at risk for each other every day so their relationship was bound to be special. He should have said all of that.

But Maddie looked so happy and carefree so instead, he lied.

“It’s… really new,” he said, echoing the words he had told her before she came to L.A. Her squeal of delight was enough for any regret he might have had to wash away and for his heart to soar that he could put that bright smile back on his sister’s face.

“Evan Buckley, you have to tell me everything !” Maddie crossed her legs on the couch and settled back against the cushions, making herself comfortable in the place Buck had started to call home. Even with the bruises and cuts littering her face, she looked at ease, and Buck smiled over at her widely.

“There’s nothing to tell, Mads. He started at the station a few months ago and we just… hit it off. Like I said, it’s new and he’s… good.” He wasn’t sure why he had hesitated but he hoped she didn’t read too much into it. When she rested a gentle hand on his bicep and squeezed, he knew she had believed every word of what he had said. The fact it wasn’t a total lie was the only reason he didn’t let his guilt build up too much just yet.

“I’m really proud of you, you know?” Maddie said softly, moving her hand up to cup the side of his face and brush her thumb along his cheekbone. He melted into the touch and closed his eyes, the words resonating through him as the ones he always longed to hear.

“What for?” Buck asked.

Maddie sighed and said, “For being you.” She tapped his nose with the tip of her finger before she added, “Now tell me all about him!”

#buddie #buddie fic #911 on fox #911 fic #buck x eddie #eddie x buck #my writing #tiwistb fic #chapter one yall omfg #i cant beleive it!!#aklsjdfkl;ajsdl;f #evan buckley #eddie diaz

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fullmtal · 3 years

Text

continued from here (x) . / @farginen

somehow it slips through his mouth like sandpaper burning his throat. embers of self-loathing sparking to flame. he hates it. the vulnerability he suddenly displayed. he hates it. no one is supposed to know about that ; and he didn’t know when exactly lieutenant hawkeye had become , against both their reputations of either being aloof or incapable of manners , so approachable.

they were wrong about her. ( any crap about him he could take. dish it out just the same. but lieutenant hawkeye was kind. ) so what if she was strict and had to work overtime ? it wasn’t like edward didn’t see it. sometimes she had circles under her eyes working for that mess of a colonel .

he saw that kindness. as highly observant as he was it was impossible not to notice when her steps were a bit slower; her gaze a bit more heady with lack of sleep. when the sharpness of her eyes dwindled into something tender and fond as she looked at himself and his little brother.

sometimes her kindness felt like a wound. one of myriad being opened that shouldn’t , but edward instinctively like most adults, most people, hasn’t shut her down yet like he usually would. it frustrates him how he doesn’t understand why, but he still remembers the warmth of her outer uniform on burdened shoulders; the other torn to pieces in metal; and a small voice whispers in the core of a heart refusing to stop that maybe it’s okay.

maybe. the debating of deserving is always in question.

“ ..... yeah. you’re right. i’m not exactly looking to be in their good books anyway. besides gods or no gods i don’t have time to think about’em. i have things to do. “ it’s softer than usual; the distant look glazing eyes like golden fires softening just a bit. a rueful smile on a face too young to wear it.

it’s too much to keep looking like this so he has to retain that usual ‘cheer’ that masks the hurt, the guilt, the grief, the self-hatred . but oh, when he was cheered it was infectious.

besides , edward elric always did perk up at food.

( but she could cook. she has that focus. hell, i doubt anyone is as focused as her. ) but the way she worded it made it seem like it could be a hobby. even if she clearly said she hadn’t made it.

he’s intrigued; seating himself in the private stillness of a moment that’s just them to glance at the table with gaze turned owlish; boyish, an imitation of innocence that wasn’t there. but he’s smiling against his judgment; a smile that spreads like that dual natured sun; and he offers it to her. that warmth that leaks into his voice along with a natural excitement.

“ you sure ? “ it isn’t meant as a tease but his smile is gentled as he picks up the fork with his right hand. “ y’know , i bet if you cooked lieutenant , you’d be really good at it. i dunno, somethin’ about you and your focus tells me you could do lots of things like that. steps and all y’know? “

before he takes a forkful into his mouth, a rather generous forkful, as ed really did lose all sense of decorum he did have when it came to food, the alchemist meets her gaze slowly but with that heartfelt sincerity burning bright.

“ .... thanks lieutenant. “ quieter than usual, but no less resolved. “ pitying myself isn’t gonna get me anywhere and i don’t plan on doing it. so i’m gonna dig in and give this a review ! just sit back and listen to an expert on tasting the good stuff! “ his bright tone fills the air with that boyishness once more.

edward places it into his mouth; but not before flashing her a grin all white teeth and crinkled gold eyes. he begins chewing slowly and thoughtfully. then comes the expected widening of the eyes as the flavor seeps into his palate.

“ hey! this...this is really good! “ spoken happily and with a bit of shock between a few lingering mouthfuls; as undainty with food as ever; the oldest elric flashes another grin up at the sharpshooter; sincere and warm.

“ if you didn’t make it who did? “

#𝐕; 𝐌𝐀𝐈𝐍 * ── a blank page: now i’m writing out my own fate.#farginen #𝐈𝐂 * ── i’ll walk over a bed of thorns to reach the other side.

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guileheroine · 4 years

Text

when the clock strikes midnight

It’s almost fascinating, the way she only becomes more real under hands, more solid and more fervid, not a dream or just some brief flight of fancy. At least she hopes this isn’t that. A long overdue coda to Blessings in Disguise 🤍🌇 / Korrasami / 4.6k / ao3

If she were on earth it might have felt like the longest drive of Asami’s life.

Instead it flew in a fuzzy rush, after Korra leaned over to give her a kiss and practically fell into her seat, giggling; and Asami spent the duration of the drive feeling its ghost on her skin, tamping it down just enough to guide her hands on the wheel and keep her eyes on the road. In the passenger seat, Korra sat with her head back and eyes closed, but her left hand lay in her lap, curled like it was just about to reach for Asami’s again.

Now, inside, it’s still only Korra’s hand on Asami’s shoulder blade, warm through her dress as she urges her through the door, that binds Asami to her body. The rest of her is itching to float. Once they’re inside, Asami pushes the door shut behind her and turns to face her.

She doesn’t get a second to breathe. Korra goes straight for her mouth. It’s a little clumsy but she finds the rhythm she’s perfected in barely an hour. Locked in, Asami hesitates momentarily, before slipping her keys in the seamless pocket of her dress instead of their usual hook. Then she can’t help the laugh that bubbles in her throat, and she pulls back, holding Korra’s face.

She doesn’t bother resisting the impulse to just—squeeze it.

Asami should feel a lot less collected than she does; she’s vaguely aware of that, it’s probably just that she’s dumbstruck into serenity. When her mind feels out for an anchor, all she finds is an intoxicating rush of new memory, the evening that preceded all this as hazy as a past life, like she was embodied anew the moment Korra put her hands on her.

“What?” Korra mumbles, muffled from her squeezed cheeks.

Nothing, Asami thinks, but forgets to say. For once, for the only moment in a good while, her hands are perfectly still. But as she stands with Korra in them, she worries they’re starting to tremble, to betray her, because the night— thrilling, surreal—crashes into her so suddenly. The impact makes her inhale, low but sharp, and it’s plain for Korra to see.

All of tonight is teeming in the space between them.

All of every other day, that Asami has spent with Korra in the most secret corner of her heart, is on the cusp of spilling out.

Korra’s eyes shift from still and serious to playfully questioning, two blinking spots of light in the dark room. Asami isn’t lost enough to miss that she’s becoming impatient, with this distance that’s closer almost than they’ve ever been until today. Yet she keeps… absorbing.

Eventually, Korra’s itch seems to pass. “Hey, I wanna take my shoes off. Will you let me go?”

“No,” Asami says finally. She pulls Korra into her arms and turns her as she does, so she’s no longer pressed against the cold door; curving around her until her chin is in Korra’s shoulder and her arms wrapped around her from behind. “Sorry, um, you forfeited that right when you agreed to be my girlfriend for the night? Do I need to remind you of our terms...? Did you write them down like I told you—”

There’s such glee in Korra’s laugh. It makes every stupid riff worthwhile.

She kisses her again. Asami’s hand brushes her hair along the way to bare more of her skin, the low light of the landing catching the little studs she jabbed in earlier, a different day or year or universe it feels like. Even when Korra’s out of breath she doesn’t relent, showering Asami with little pecks, automatic but never perfunctory.

Asami needs to sit down, not for the first time tonight. The part of her that wants to run away for a moment is only outmatched by the one that can hardly keep her hands from Korra, guided by irresistible impulse. It’s almost fascinating, the way she only becomes more real under hands, more solid and more fervid, not a dream or just some brief flight of fancy. At least she hopes this isn’t that.

“Okay, uh, I need some water. You?” Asami pulls away. She stops Korra with a thumb against the corner of her mouth.

That’s where Korra’s final peck lands. She takes a long moment to absorb the question. “Hum. I’m kinda hungry.”

Asami has to roll her eyes. She kneads Korra’s shoulder in her hand. “Wait a sec, didn’t you have like three desserts?” Korra’s face is blank, and Asami feels a smile twitch her own mouth. “I saw you.”

Korra shoves not too gently at her. “I had a long night, hey. Go get your drink!”

Asami almost stumbles over the edge of the sofa as she dashes away. She bites her lips to see if her giddy smile is as permanent as it’s starting to feel. Her heart remains in her throat all the way, no longer amenable to being swallowed back the way she has been doing since they first met each other in the bathroom today. She turns to catch Korra’s gleaming eyes, and they’re both covering their giggling mouths; the shyness beneath the slyness somehow betraying an open desire that has Asami inhaling the deepest breath once she’s in the kitchen. Korra’s… hungry, alright. And Asami’s on a cliff edge she doesn’t remember climbing to.

The moonlight from the window above the sink guides her to the faucet, and she finds the nearest cup to take several gulps of cold water. From longtime instinct she senses lipstick on a corner of her mouth where it shouldn’t be, and the scent of Korra is there when she lifts her arm to drink. These little pieces of evidence without which it might be easy, now that she’s finally alone, to believe nothing at all had happened and Korra was upstairs in her room after this stunt gone okay, or maybe she’d been there all evening while Asami went to her gala. They keep Asami in a liminal state of mind as she pushes her body through the most mundane actions. There’s so much to feel, to think—to do, maybe. She can start at the beginning, start small. She fills another glass of water for her tired roommate; and she stoops to putter through the contents of the fridge.

“Korra!” She calls. “Cheese? Strawberries?”

“Strawberries,” comes the attempt at a hushed yell.

“Dumbass, you’re not hungry.”

Korra gives her an unabashed laugh she’s heard a thousand times. Each time it strikes deeper, and tonight Asami once again feels bowled over.

When she returns from the kitchen, Korra has kicked off her shoes. She leans back on the sofa, her phone clasped lightly over her chest. She tucks her chin to gesture it when Asami comes in.

Her brow arches. “It’s tomorrow, by the way. Am I relieved of my duties?” She runs a hand over her mouth, pensive. “What are you thinking? Overtime?”

Asami giggles, gathering her skirt out of the way to sit. “You’re being such a tease today.” She expects to perch on the corner, but Korra immediately sits up to make space when Asami approaches.

“Me?” She says, taking the strawberries. She looks almost jittery the moment she replies, and Asami is reminded of all her quiet lulls through the evening. Korra has been… thinking about her. That much is out of the way.

Korra eats in a comfortable silence, with her free hand periodically rising to give Asami’s hair an absent stroke. She pushes one of the strawberries into Asami’s mouth, while Asami continues to catch up to the sensation of being under her full, eager attention. Once Korra has had her fill she slumps back into the sofa, resting her cheek against her palm so she can face her.

“Would you believe I kind of had fun today?”

Asami scoffs gently. “I mean, I did hope it would at least be kind of fun. It was for the last half hour.”

That earns her another kiss, full-bodied. There’s enough nervous energy in it—the first kiss in fifteen minutes, after all—that Asami feels both emboldened, and a dizzying lurch in her own stomach. She rides the exhilarating sensation out with her mouth on Korra’s. It lasts a pleasant forever.

It’s quieter here than the hotel; the road, too. The droning heater is off and Naga must be asleep in the other room. When they kiss again, never really having pulled apart, slower and softer than ever, all Asami hears is the joint rise and fall of their breath. The smell of Korra, mixed in with the party wine and now the strawberries, is heady. Before she knows how, Asami’s hands are deep in Korra’s hair, tugging at the roots—Korra’s clutching at Asami’s neckline with a sweaty palm and, unmistakably, moaning.

Korra swallows and huffs when they pull away, smiling. “Girl, wow.”

Giddy, and not a little self-conscious, Asami lets her arms fall and tighten around her. Her eyes trail with leisure over Korra’s face, the bare shapes under the little light: the eyes a little drawn from the long night, yet lit deep by an unnameable spark. Then Korra’s head dips from her view and into her shoulder. Like her eyes, all Korra’s movements are somewhat dreamy. She did have several drinks… But this is palpably different, there’s a verve beneath it, an absence of actual dullness that’s too new and arresting to do anything but feel out, relish. Asami cups the back of her head. When she held her at the dinner table today, it didn’t feel so different. It was like Korra had come there to roost.

Asami’s breath skims between her teeth when she feels Korra’s lips against her cheek and jaw, lingering, deliberate. It’s apparent now that Korra isn’t dazed in any way she doesn’t want to be— but she’s utterly dazed by Asami. All of a sudden, Asami’s unsure what to do with the immensity of this knowledge. It would threaten her stance if she was standing. Never had she let herself imagine this might happen, and it’s left her pretty unprepared for the situation.

When Korra’s mouth plants on her neck, there’s nothing to do but swallow a moan, and then several more. Asami holds her waist tightly, almost stiffly. Her other hand grasps for purchase and finds the hem of Korra’s dress, threatening to ride up as Korra leans further into her. She’s warm there, like everywhere; the backs of her thighs are silky, just as much as the weight of her arms is delightfully solid. The way Korra smiles against her skin when Asami does emit a little sigh tells Asami she has no idea how monumentally serious all this really is.

Eventually, it’s Korra that pulls back. Her mouth is wet and her eyes are dark. Asami doesn’t move her hands, but looks at her with reverent attention, feeling almost polite about it.

“Wait, Asami. Can—do you want to…?”

Asami squeezes gently with both her hands. “I—” She wraps one of the hands over Korra’s shoulder, the thumb stroking her neck. “Korra, seriously, you had a lot of wine tonight. I noticed.”

Korra wipes her mouth discreetly with an aborted sound in her throat. “Only because you sent me into crisis mode,” she says laughingly, but she does sit back a little.

Fuller now, her voice has that lovely late night edge, rougher round the edges—from the sleepiness, the drink, the drunken fumbling. Asami feels the loss, when her tone shifts from the hushed almost-pleas of just a moment ago. It stokes something like regret.

“Crisis-?! Drama queen. I told you, you were amazing with everything. Felix—”

“Oh, no, you’re really gonna bring that up with your hand up my skirt?”

They both laugh long. Asami makes a circle with the hand around Korra’s waist, and discreetly pulls the one arguably on her ass down to the back of her knee. It helps her pull Korra in. “I just mean you don’t have anything to be worried about. Not a thing.” She says it with meaning, and Korra understands immediately.

Indeed, Korra takes the invitation to kiss her again, on the cheek this time. “Serious question, did you really have faith in me? My stupid idea—at the beginning…”

A dangerously stupid idea, maybe, but only because Asami couldn’t maintain a facade so heart-achingly close. It was sheer luck that Korra had… embraced the task the way she had. Maybe that made it a brilliant idea, whether either of them knew it. “It worked out, didn’t it?

“—Because I was hanging off you from the word go. I was, like... spiraling. Oh my god, Asami.” Korra’s so matter of fact about it, burrowing for a kiss again. “But not like—it was like, wow, this is nice. This is us! Did you know that might happen, or just hope I’d keep my shit together…” She’s blabbering between her kisses. Asami leaves her mouth free to do it, smiling, playing with her hair. “Maybe you figured it might end like this...” Korra nuzzles below her ear again, her breath warm as spring, her voice molten and tender. “Huh? Is this what you wanted?”

It would be silly to deny something like that right now, but Asami can’t help anticipate how bare she would be, if she did admit to it. The door that admission would unlock, and the next one.

Korra locks her fingers around her waist and puts her cheek to hers, suddenly chaste. Her voice is different.

“It’s okay if you did, you know.”

read the rest on ao3

#korrasami #korrasami fic #**#the everthere

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weakzen · 4 years

Note

Left on the detective’s desk, a single red rose and a note written in precise handwriting:

Alex,

What happened to you - you didn’t deserve it. You can be loved, if you let yourself.

Happy Valentine’s Day

(yolo experimental style; alex/mason, early established relationship, angst and fluff; no direct mention of abuse, just oblique circling and fatalistic thoughts; rated m for mason; also on AO3~)

Even though I didn't finish reading it, even though I hid it from sight, imprisoned it in darkness, cast it to the depths of the bottom drawer until the end of shift, when it would be possible to smuggle the thing into the break room recycle bin without risking Tina's eyes or interrogation, that stupid fucking note has somehow still managed to reach up through all those heavy files and twist my stomach into knots.

For hours.

Plucking my nerves hard enough to make my hands fucking shake too. Typos in every report, backspace key pulling overtime without pay. Not helped by eyes that won't stop stinging. Armpits that haven't fully dried either, along with a weird chill, shivers that persist despite the sweater and the cranked-up thermostat.

At least the rose is gone. Snuck it into the arrangement on Tina's desk, the one I get her every year.

It looks better surrounded by friends.

It was nice to see it on the desk this morning

(Can still smell it perfuming the air.)

And if I could get rid of my thoughts as easily, I would. Because after half a day of chasing them in circles, I still can't figure out who the fuck sent that goddamn note, who the fuck would write something like that—say shit like that, to me—who could possibly fucking think or know or say anything about that, or that I-I, that I—

Fuck. Fuckfuckfuckingfuck.

That sickly feeling wrenches again, hard enough to jerk me forward over the desk, face buried in my hands while my breathing shudders into something unsteady and vaguely gasping.

Fuck.

It can't be Tina.

It can't.

It should be, but it can't.

The writing's not loopy enough to be hers, and it's not slanted enough to be Verda's, and the damn thing isn't covered in nearly enough heart stickers to be from Felix. We all should know. Nate's been sighing nonstop for the past week, scraping them off every available surface in the Warehouse—except for the lacy pink one Felix managed to sneak right between Adam's shoulders.

And the glittery red one I pressed covertly to Mason's ass.

(Maybe not so covertly. Found a few hearts stuck to my underwear later when I slipped outta my jeans, and the secrets of how the fuck he pulled that off are still locked behind his smirk.)

A smile tries to pull at my lips, but the tightness in my gut warps it crooked.

Another shuddery breath.

It can't be from Adam either. If he had something to say to me, he'd just say it, preferably after he finished laying me out on the mats, all sweaty and sucking down air from another session of his gentle ass-kicking. Nate, however, would write a note to me. Has written a note to me. Has written many notes to me and still not made a dent in that stack of expensive stationary, and although the card stock was silk cream, the pigment obsidian night, and the calligraphy swooping in almost a dead ringer, I know it can't be from Nate because he would never leave a rose with his words, not the ones meant for me.

But there isn't anyone else.

There's Mason

And it can't be from him.

It's not his handwriting, to start. I think. I'm pretty sure. I've never actually seen his writing, but I can't imagine it would be anything resembling neat or careful. It's gotta be complete chicken scratch. All cramped and illegible. He's left handed too, barely patient enough to sit through a stoplight, much less give ink the time to dry, so there'd be definitely be smears, and there weren't any smears. At all. Can't be him.

Not to mention he'd never do anything like this.

Don't know why he keeps coming to mind anyway. Just because we're…

Together

—for now.

Doesn't mean he'd ever say anything like that—

He already has

(He did. He said I deserved better and I believe him, but I don't, I can't.)

—only because he'd say differently if he knew.

If he really knew.

He'd say different and I'm not gonna fucking tell him and it doesn't fucking matter anyway, it doesn't. Shine's gonna wear off soon enough. Novelty, satisfied. Boredom, returning. And at least the conversation won't be awkward, just… blunt. To the point. A first for us both, in topic, if not style.

I've never been dumped before, at least not in a romantic sense.

Another breath. Another shuddery breath.

Wonder how it's gonna feel.

(It's gonna suck.)

No fucking shit.

If it can't last, why agree to it at all?

I rub hard at my eyes, grinding palms into sockets.

If it can't last, why not tell him anyway?

Because I already fucking know! Don't need to hear it from him, don't wanna hear it from—

If it can't last, why does it matter what he thinks?

“…Stupid fucking note.”

It was nice to see it on the desk this morning

(Someone took the time, wrote it, left it in here. Someone cares.)

Someone's playing a sick fucking joke, more like.

What if it's genuine?

I scoff ragged, squeezing fingers around the back of my neck.

(Tina cares. So does Verda. The whole team, so many others, I know, and I believe them all but I don't. I can't.)

What if you didn't deserve it?

I did. I stayed and I did. My fault. Fucking stupid, like he always said.

(All Mason ever speaks is care. In a thousand different ways of touch, in silence, in lingering looks, he cares.)

What if you can be loved?

What if you can?

A brittle laugh wheezes past my lips and shoots toward something hysterical, boosted by acid burn and cloying petals and that churning, churning tightness. My shoulders hunch high around my ears while the sound pitches even higher, lungs immolated and screaming along, nails digging, cutting crescents as I shake and curl tighter, smaller, compacting into stiffness hard enough to rival diamonds, every muscle verging on a cramp and my throat is stinging and my eyes are on fire, hot, wet, and the door is closed, the blinds shut, and maybe I could just— this time— if I stayed quiet, I could—

I could—

But I don't.

I swallow once, twice, suck down, blink it away, then snap upright and get back to work. There's too much shit, not enough time.

Never enough time, not for that.

For you

(Remember to eat lunch.)

I don't.

I don't really remember talking to anyone either. Or finishing paperwork. Answering email. Clearing the inbox backlog, digital and otherwise, but the stack depletes, the numbers go down, Tina gives me shit from the doorway, and soon the peripheral lights tick off overhead in the foyer, a mop bucket rattles its rounds, darkness crept into my office at some point for a visit and now it's here to stay, just its quiet company along with the monitor blasting eye strain, clacking keys, tight shoulders, a headache, and then—

A familiar ass plops down on my desk and scares the shit out of me.

I jerk back in the chair, wheels rolling, hand over heart to keep it from pounding free and Mason looms above it all, bathed in harsh blues, deep shadows, a deeper frown, and eyes that refuse to obey the rules of any ambient illumination.

Right now? They're crinkled soft, even as they scrutinize.

He looks… worried.

When did he even open my door?

“You okay, sweetheart?”

“…Yeah,” I mutter. A lie, an obvious one, but I fight the urge to glance away and dare him to call me out anyway. “You need something, sunshine?”

A muscle in his jaw twitches. “You're late.”

“For what?”

We didn't make plans.

“Getting home.”

Fuck.

I sigh, slumping in the seat, and now I'm looking away, now I'm backing down, running a hand through my hair, mussing and tangling, just like he always does when he's uncertain.

And when the hell did I start doing that?

“Yeah, I'm still behind on shit from my vacation. I was gonna stay late tonight, try and catch up…” I explain, because Tina and I also didn't make plans this year.

(Because she's been marinating in smugness ever since I sighed and told her about the relationship. Because she dropped that shit-eating smirk earlier—that I remember, at least—dripping suggestion all over my office as she waggled her brows and winked and made obnoxious kissy faces until I shoved her out the door, but not before she told me to 'have lots of fun tonight, Alexandra.')

Sure.

“Sorry I didn't text. I… forgot.”

That tightness in my stomach does another loop, and I huff a quiet breath.

Stupid fucking note.

Mason folds his arms. “…The fuck is going on with you?”

Concern blunts the teeth of his words, not that there's any real bite. There never is, not with him, but I tense up anyway, expecting it, expecting to be ripped open.

Blood and pain.

I'd tense up no matter how he asked.

It's okay

(He's not Bobby.)

“Nothing,” I reply, folding my arms, eyes down, “just…”

It's okay

(He's not looking to hurt.)

Probably will anyway, but fuck it. I already know his answer.

Let's just get it over with.

“You didn't leave me a valentine earlier, did you?” My gaze snaps to his. “On my desk?”

Mason scoffs. “Why the hell would I do that?”

This time, it stabs instead of twists, higher up, somewhere in my chest. Something sharp instead of dull.

Disappointment? …Relief? I'm not sure.

Just that it stings.

And it's nighttime, so maybe he feels it too, and maybe that's why he unfolds his arms and shifts toward me, boot heel dangling by the bottom drawer while his voice drops to a softness that matches his accent. “What it say?”

“Nothing,” I repeat, even quieter than him. “Just someone fucking with me. It doesn't matter.”

It does

(Shouldn't lie, not to him. Don't need to. Don't want to, don't like it.)

Mason doesn't like it either, but he doesn't push it. Neither do I.

We look away from each other.

The office swelters around us, too stuffy, too small. Too silent and uncomfortable now to stay. I roll forward to save my work, then turn the computer off and Mason's already waiting for me by the door, a dark silhouette framed by distant fluorescent, my coat and bag hanging off his arms. He pulls me in while I put it all on, yanking me by lapels before abandoning them for the sweater on my lower back, the loose hair at my nape. His lips brush against mine in slow movements, soft nibbling, and he's whispering something to me with it all, with the strokes of his fingers and the circle of our chins, but I can't quite hear.

So ask

(He'll answer—and he won't lie.)

I swallow, then I do.

“…What kind of kiss was that?”

“Dunno.” He shrugs beneath my hands, breath tickling my face. “I want you to feel better.”

“Oh.”

A shadow flits behind his eyes.

“…And if he's still bothering you, I'm gonna break his fucking jaw again.”

I chuckle softly. “Pretty sure it wasn't him this time.”

“Good.” Mason nibbles another kiss, then smirks. “Might still do it anyway.”

That gets a laugh from both of us, one that sprawls into a pause, grey eyes locked to mine while our grins fade out and our breath catches on everything unspoken and nameless rushing in to take the space.

Honesty. It's what I try to speak. Trailing up from the emotional ooze, raw and sticky.

I hope he can fucking see it, hear it cry, but I wipe it off and whisper the words into shape anyway, cheeks flaming, just to be sure—

“I'm sorry, I just… I don't wanna talk about it now.”

—and he answers me with a brush of his mouth, with his tongue parting my lips, with the way he teases into me before licking deeper, the way he jerks our hips together then shoves, a knee between my thighs, my back into a wall, a door frame, a sharp corner, a low groan rumbling up his chest directly into mine and I hear it all this time, in his breathy panting at the edge of our kiss, the firmness in his fingers angling my face to his, the solid heat of his cock pressed hard against me, grinding slow while I cling tight and moan, I hear it all, but he sucks my lip in with a sharp inhale, rolls me around his mouth before releasing with a drag of teeth, and he murmurs it aloud anyway, just to be sure—

“I know, sweetheart. It's fine.”

—then he nips down hard, and it's hard not to smile, hard not to laugh, harder still not to nip that asshole right back, so I don't.

Hold back, that is.

Our lips are swollen and sore by the time the station door swings shut behind us.

#the wayhaven chronicles #twc #twc m #twc mason #mason x detective #mason #the detective #zfic #alex/mason #alexandra black

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geeks-universe · 4 years

Text

Until Dawn Breaks II

Darkness Shall Reign.

Previous Part

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Tag List: @coltonparayyko

Dean insisted on driving through the night.

Not that you were against it, but you found yourself a bit put out when he didn’t let you drive his (very nice) ride. Bobby had helped you fix, and drive, many cars that he’d repaired. It was one of your favorite past times, besides hunting of course.

“If you’re getting tired…” You singsonged, watching the man in the driver’s seat closely.

“Not going to happen, princess,” he shot down, looking oddly agitated.

You chewed your lip thoughtfully.

Despite the easy atmosphere between the two of you, and the steady conversation, you could tell Dean was worried about something. He’d mentioned heading to California to make a stop before beginning the search, and from what Bobby told you of the younger Winchester brother, you knew why.

Clearly, he was apprehensive about seeing his brother. Not that you blame him, it had been quite a while.

You cleared your throat.

“So, tell me about him,” you decided, leaning against the passenger side window.

You hoped by keeping your gaze on your surroundings rather than on him you might relieve some pressure.

“Who?” Dean asked.

Even though you’d only known him for a day and some change, you knew he was perceptive enough to know just who you were talking about.

“Your brother,” you replied. “Sam.”

“He’s a pain in my ass,” Dean grumbled, though you could detect the hint of a smile in his words. After a thoughtful pause, he continued. “Real smart, you know. And he’s… I don’t know, he’s got a way with people. Nice, really.”

You chanced a look at Dean, not surprised to see pride in his eyes. You could tell how much he loved his brother. It helped you to understand why he’d be so hesitant to see him now.

“Are we going to stop somewhere and visit in the morning?” You inquired, furrowing your brow at the very large sign that read ‘Stanford University’.

“No,” Dean answered, “We’re going to break in.”

You didn’t miss a beat, expecting something like that from the hunter beside you.

“Picking locks and going through the front door or slipping in through the window?”

Dean chuckled.

“I like you.”

You shrugged and shot him a playful wink.

“I’ve done my fair share of sneaking around,” you offered as you pulled into a parking spot.

Dean let his car run a moment longer as he met your gaze.

“Oh yeah? And what’s Bobby think of that?”

You both share a laugh, mostly because Dean is more than well aware of how Bobby views you, and he would not take too kindly to the thought of you sneaking around.

“Let’s see what you got, old man,” you teased as the two of you crept up to a fire escape.

He pulled his brows up in mock offense.

“I’ve got plenty,” he assured you, hoisting himself up onto the ladder.

You followed his steps, albeit far quieter. What was that saying about strict parents and sneaky kids? At this point, you were the poster child for that.

Not a word was exchanged between the two of you as Dean eased open the window. He gestured for you to enter, which you did gracefully, only for him to knock over a lamp as he jumped inside.

You stifled a laugh, leaving him on his own as you kept to the shadows. A very large man, who you could only guess was Sam, engaged Dean. There was a short altercation, which you’re sure Dean would’ve won had it prolonged, before he muttered, “Woah, easy tiger.”

Sam pulled back.

“Dean?”

The shithead on the ground had the audacity to laugh. You bit your lip to not give yourself away.

“You scared the crap out of me!” Sam proclaimed.

“That’s cause you’re out of practice.”

You watched with an amused smirk as Dean was thrown to the ground by Sam.

“Or not.” He murmured, a quick look in your direction.

You were smirking victoriously, having still not been spotted.

“Get off of me.”

Sam obliged, helping Dean to his feet. Deciding you’d soaked in your victory long enough, you cleared your throat.

Sam jumped, his head whipping towards where you were standing. Clearly, he had no idea you were there before then.

Dean frowned at that.

“Who’s this? And why are you here?”

You opened your mouth to reply, but Dean beat you to it.

“That’s (Y/N),” he said, brushing invisible dirt off himself. “Bobby’s uh… yeah.”

You didn’t even bother hiding your laugh at that one.

“Nice to meet you,” you smiled. “I’ve heard a lot about you. Good to put a face to a name.”

He shook himself from his stupor. “Likewise.”

Your conversation was interrupted by the sudden appearance of overly bright lights. You blinked a few times to regain your sight.

“Sam?” A softer, distinctly feminine voice called out.

The voice in question belonged to a woman who looked about the same age as Sam. Her eyes were bleary, a sure sign she’d been sleeping only moments ago.

“Jess. Hey. Dean, (Y/N), this is my girlfriend, Jessica.”

You gave her a polite smile. Truth was, you didn’t know if she knew anything about hunting or not, and you were not going to be the one that opened that can of worms if she didn’t.

“Hello,” you greeted, hoping you sounded friendly enough. Exhaustion was starting to creep up on you, and you found yourself wishing that you’d stopped by after a night of rest.

“Wait, your brother Dean?” She asked after answering you with a smile of her own.

Sam nodded, looking distinctly uncomfortable as Dean took a step closer to her. His lips were pulled up, and you could already guess what he was about to say.

“Oh, I love the Smurfs.” He nodded, eying her shirt a bit too closely. “You know, I gotta tell you. You are completely out of my brothers league.”

You groaned.

“I am so sorry,” you apologized on the older Winchester’s behalf, knowing she probably didn’t care to hear what he had to say.

“Jealous?” Dean teased, a twinkle in his eyes.

“Only of the girls who don’t have to talk to you,” you shot back, focusing back on Sam. “We have something to talk about.”

“Right,” Dean agreed, turning towards his brother. “Gotta borrow your boyfriend here, some private family business to discuss.”

Dean turned to go, expecting Sam to follow, but he shook his head instead.

“No,” he argued, wrapping an arm around Jess.

You bit your lip out of habit, knowing that things were probably going to get very awkward very quickly if she wasn’t accustomed to Sam’s hunter life.

“Whatever you want to say, you can say it in front of her.”

You cough.

“Um, maybe it’s best if-”

“Fine.” Dean relented, and you shut your mouth with a click. You weren’t about to broach this topic with a fifty foot pole, but if he wanted to you wouldn’t stop him. “Dad hasn’t been home in a few days.”

Sam blew out a breath, obviously expecting something worse.

“So he’s working overtime on a Miller Time shift. He’ll stumble back in sooner or later.”

Dean straightened himself up a bit, willing his brother to understand without saying it in so many words.

“Dad’s on a hunting trip. And he hasn’t been home in a few days.”

Though he stood stock still, you could see the moment it registered in his eyes.

“Jess, excuse us. We have to go outside.”

You didn’t need to be told twice. You were already out of the door by the time the two Winchester brothers followed.

Deciding the conversation was best left to family, you made your way back to the Impala. If you were being honest, you were very jealous. Bobby hadn’t really let you keep any of the cars you’d worked on, and hunting didn’t exactly leave you with a full bank account. So, you were stuck driving some less than stellar cars whenever you could.

The Impala though, that was a nice car. And cars were something of a passion for you. You ran a hand down her sleek, black frame longingly.

Maybe when you and Dean became better friends he’d let you actually drive her. Though, you had a feeling that was just a pipe dream. He seemed very resolute on who drove her. That brought a frown to your face.

Briefly, you wondered what she looked like under the hood.

Clearly Dean had worked on her more than a few times, and she sounded like heaven when she drove. A girl could dream, and boy did you.

Your thoughts must’ve shown on your face, because Dean laughed when he and Sam approached you.

“The answer is still no.”

“Don’t listen to him,” you whispered conspiratory with the fine machinery near you. “One day.”

Sam had an amused look on his face, which was a stark difference between the expression he’d held only seconds ago. Dean cast one more glance to his brother before he moved to the trunk of his car, propping it open with a shotgun.

There was a stockpile of weapons in the trunk of the Impala, filled with all of the basics and some of the more difficult to find tools for hunting. You’d perused through the selection once already when you placed your own weapons back there.

“Where the hell did I put that thing?” Dean asked himself, sorting through the clutter.

Sam looked up to you, obviously a little unsure. You gave him a reassuring smile, knowing just how rough it was to leave hunting behind. Bobby had tried to get you away from it a few years ago after a particularly bad hunt, but you hadn’t been able to make it more than a couple of weeks before you were pulled back in.

“So, when dad left why didn’t you go with him? And when did you come along?” The second question was directed at you.

“I was working my own gig. This, uh, voodoo thing, down in New Orleans.” Dean answered his portion of the question, only really half paying attention.

“Dad let you go on a hunting trip alone?” Sam blurted before you had a chance to reply.

“I’m twenty-six, dude.”

“Old man,” you muttered with a wink. Dean frowned. “Anyways, Dean picked me up a little over a day ago.”

“And Bobby is fine with you hunting with just him?” Sam nodded to his brother, a curious brow quirked.

You shrugged.

“I’m twenty, and more than capable,” you assured him.

They, of course, didn’t have to know about all the times you’d had to beg Bobby in the past to let you go hunting on your own. He was very firm on making sure you were safe, and having a seasoned veteran was safe in his book. Sam and Dean Winchester were not considered veterans to him.

“All right, enough chit-chat. Here we go. So Dad was checking out this two-lane blacktop just outside of Jericho, California. About a month ago, this guy.”

Dean handed Sam a paper. He’d already briefed you on the case during the drive. To be honest, it seemed a bit… lackluster. You’d seen John Winchester in action, and he was a powerhouse. There was no way in hell this case took him down. It really just seemed like a salt and burn.

“They found his car but he vanished. Completely MIA.”

“So maybe he was kidnapped,” Sam suggested, and you could see his hesitance in his words.

He didn’t believe it, not really, but he didn’t want to get involved.

“Yeah, well here’s another one in April.” Dean tossed another paper his way. “Another one in December 04, 03, 98, 92, ten of them over the past twenty years. All men, all the same five-mile stretch of road.”

As Dean fiddled with a tape recorder, you piped up.

“My guess is some man did a woman dirty and she’s taking it out on these unlucky bastards.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time,” Dean agreed, finally able to get the recorder working. “It started happening more and more so Dad went to dig around. That was about three weeks ago. I hadn’t heard from him since, which is bad enough. Then I get this voicemail yesterday.”

You remembered very clearly the change in Dean’s demeanor before and after hearing what he had on the recorder. He had been worried, but he was able to talk and act like nothing was wrong at all. Then, the minute he’d heard it, he’d sped up and refused to stop for anything. His apprehension was visible, and you found yourself carrying the conversations.

“Dean…” The garbled voice of the Winchester patriarch spoke. “Something big is starting to happen… I need to try and figure out what’s going on. It may… Be very careful, Dean. We’re all in danger.”

“Now play the rest of it,” you reminded him.

Sam didn’t look particularly phased, and you knew he must’ve realized there was EVP on it.

“I can never go home,” a soft, particularly feminine voice spoke. She sounded sad.

Sam echoed the words as Dean put everything back in the trunk and closed it up. He looked so casual standing there like that, and briefly you thought he might even look better than his car.

“You know, in almost two years I’ve never bothered you, never asked you for a thing.”

You’d known that, of course, but it still surprised you. When Dean talked about Sam it was very obvious how much he cared for his brother. To think he had gone two years without talking to him was crazy.

“I’ll go.” Sam confirmed. “But I have to get back first thing Monday. Just stay here.”

“What’s first thing Monday?” Dean asked, mirroring your own thoughts.

“I have an interview.”

Dean, ever the insensitive one, said, “What, a job interview? Skip it.”

“That’s not how job interviews work,” you laughed.

“No, it’s a law school interview, and it’s my whole future on a plate.”

“Oh damn,” you commented. “Good luck with that.”

“Law school?” Dean questioned aloud, a smirk on his face.

“We got a deal or not?”

Dean let the offer simmer in the air, looking for all the world like he wasn’t going to answer. You rolled your eyes.

“First thing Monday, you got it,” you assured the younger Winchester. He gave you a smile and a nod before he turned on his heel to walk back to his apartment.

“So, you’re calling the shots now?”

You shrugged.

“If he wants to be a lawyer, good on him.”

Dean scoffed. Clearly, he didn’t agree with your mentality, but he left it at that. He slid into the driver’s seat, and you got into the back. Sam was far too large to be trying to fit into the backseat.

There was a tense silence while you waited for Sam, and an even more awkward one when the younger brother entered.

The rest of the night and into the next day continued in the same way.

You were getting a few scattered hours of sleep when you could, but your dreams made it difficult to actually rest.

#dean winchester x reader #dean winchester imagine #supernatural x reader #supernatural imagine #udb

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rokutouxei · 4 years

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the wonder that’s keeping the stars apart

ikemen vampire: temptation through the dark theo van gogh / mc | T | [ ao3 link in bio ]

The challenge seemed pretty simple: to try to befriend the university bookshop’s most sour employee, Theo van Gogh. As a literature major with a boatload of book recommendations on her back, it ought to be a simple task indeed. But as she uncovers what lies between Theo’s pages, the more she finds it harder to become closer to him without having to put the feeling directly into words. What can she learn from Theo about what it means to stay—and how can she teach Theo about what it means to let go? | written for ikevamp big bang 2020!

[ masterpost for all chapters ]

CHAPTER 8 OF 22

And how impossible it still is: to train the heart to sit. - "The Kindest Thing She Almost Did", Blythe Baird

The College of Arts’ student council has rotating schedules on who gets to organize the university-famous Halloween party. This year, it was the Literature Department and the Film Department that paired up to choose a theme, decorate, and make sure the party is getting smoothly—and the very specific, not-required but entirely funny, theme this year was “Film or Book that you’d love to be turned spooky, but isn’t exactly spooky.”

This is why she thought of coming in as characters from the Night Circus. The black and white stripes matched with red really gives off a very Halloween vibe to begin with, but all the circus-y magic that goes on in the book itself also makes it very viable for the spooky vibes.

She’s now standing in front of the College of Arts’ event hall, where the event is set to happen. She tugs at the locks of hair dangling at the side of her face, the ones she couldn't get to obey her planned updo, even with all the bobby pins.

There's something about scavenging a costume on your own that is so nerve-wracking. There's something more when you're portraying a character from a book someone introduced to you. It feels like it's a duty to get it right. She couldn’t find any entirely matching dresses in the thrift stores she went to, so this was the best she could do: some sort of modern but 1890s-inspired fortune teller mash-up of a costume. The dress was fashioned out of this dizzying deep blue-black velvet fabric, with little speckles of silver glitter like stars across it; she wore a striped black and white petticoat underneath it to give it some volume since the dress ended around the knees. She’d re-sewn the sleeves and the neckline to be similar to that of the era, revealing a nice V along her back and a nice, wide boat collar. Then, she’s put on a small, decorative hat with some red flowers on the corner of her head, and then draped a sheer black scarf with little rosy red designs on the ends over her shoulders. Then she put on some knee-high lace-up boots to add a little grunge to the entire attire. Lastly, she had a few Rider-Waite tarot cards in her pocket (The Chariot and Temperance) just for the vibe of it.

(All this costume preparation was really to wind herself down after submitting her initial requirements to the scholarship selection committee earlier that week.)

Just as she begins to spiral in her thoughts, “Sorry I’m late,” she hears Theo’s familiar voice call out, and she looks up from staring at her shoes and gasps out loud.

Theo’s wearing his hair a little curlier than usual, a lightly-tinted pair of green contacts on his eyes and—as he’s promised—a well-tailored suit, in black and white and red, to suit the general aesthetic of the circus itself. She figured he would come in a suit, but—she wasn’t expecting him to take the extra effort with the hair and the eyes, either. She could even see the little silhouette of a journal peeking from underneath his jacket—he’s obviously prepared even to the smallest details! Maybe, maybe he does look like the Marco in her head. Just a little. Maybe if his hair was darker. She finds herself staring at him for a ridiculous amount of time, so much so that he has to cough to get her attention again.

"The green eyes look lovely on you," she comments softly, hand curling up to gently press his finger at his cheekbone near instinctively, allowing her to observe his eyes better. Theo feels himself flinch in surprise, but he does not pull back.

"Thank you, grey-green was a very specific color."

She nods. "I do prefer your usual blue though." Her hand falls back to her side. "Too bad I can't magic it back?"

"You see it blue all the time. Stop complaining when this was your idea," Theo says, but he offers his arm anyway.

"So sour," she pouts. "How unbecoming of you, Mister Alisdair," she says, as she slides her arm into his.

Theo only snorts; he does not hide the half-smirk. "Only to match you, Miss Martin."

The event hall is lavishly decorated in some sort of spooky, old vampire mansion vibes, with all the matching spiders and fake candles. It is a little silly to see the DJ on the far end of the hall, with his set-up on top of what seemed like a desk older from three centuries ago. The caterers set up the food on a buffet table—also beautifully decorated, how many fine arts majors did the production team get to bully into helping them out?—to get it ready before dinner at six.

But the bar—the bar is open.

“Do you drink?” she asks casually, already one foot towards the bar.

He takes a nervous gulp she pretends not to notice. “Not a lot,” he answers.

“Then a glass will be alright. I told Arthur we’d meet at the bar. Come on!”

Because her college stupidly attempts to seem puritan, official drink menus are not allowed to actually say out loud that they contain hard liquor, so instead have really creative names. This time, they are references to different, random books and films, with fine-print descriptions of what it is. She orders a glass of Pride and Prejudice and Theo gets a serving of Kafka on the Shore. Both of them had just received their drinks when her phone begins to ring, and with a short excuse me she heads to a quieter part of the room and answers the call.

“Dazai?”

“Hello, Toshiko-san. I’m waiting outside the hall, but you’ve entirely forgotten that I haven’t actually met who I’m bringing in.”

Oh! “Well, I told him to wait on a stone bench there… Dark blue-ish hair, blue eyes, a mole on the side of his lip? He responds to ‘Arthur’.”

“‘Responds?’ Are your bookstore friends all a bunch of dogs?”

“Well, this drools at the sight of meat,” you say, unapologetically. “I didn’t see him there yet when I was still out, but—”

She hears a shuffle from the other side of the line, and Arthur’s familiar voice through the phone, a small “Hello, could you be Dazai?” and her friend’s very, very meaningful pause—she can almost see Dazai looking Arthur up and down—before he answers, “Yes, and you must be Arthur.”

The phone call ends and she grins for only a half a moment before realizing what she’d done.

She walks ever so slowly back to the bar, letting it sink in. But once she’s got her glass in her hand, she downs it in one go, surprising both the bartender and Theo. She shakes her head and then sits back down on the stool, half-laughing.

“Something happen?” Theo asks.

She groans. “I may have made a mistake with Arthur.”

Theo takes a sip of his drink, just the littlest bit smug. “Everything is a mistake if Arthur is involved.”

“I didn’t think he’d—”

“Hello, lovebirds,” says the devil, Arthur coming up behind them with—

With Dazai glued to his hip.

She’s known Dazai for a few years at this point, and because they’ve known each other for so long, there are little things she knows Dazai does that may not seem obvious to the onlooker.

First: Dazai is not fond of touching, but he is rather great at tolerating it. It usually takes a few months before Dazai is fine with being touched by someone. Even she took around half a year before Dazai would allow her to hug him freely. When he’s being touched by someone he does not particularly like, he clenches his hands and fits them into his pockets, so it’s not as noticeable.

Observer’s note: Arthur’s got his hand around Dazai’s waist. Dazai’s hands are wide open, resting at his hip.

Second: Dazai is also good at having his practiced smile. He says he practices it in the mirror, did it every day for a year until it became natural to him; it looks genuine and otherwise believable, that is, if you haven’t seen his actual smile. And even if you have, sometimes it’s still hard to tell. His actual, genuine smile, that goes up to his eyes, crinkling the sides of it, and he flushes sometimes too; it’s so wide it reveals the little dimple on his cheek.

Observer’s note: Dazai’s dimple is very, very visible right now.

Third: Dazai has this thing where the longer he considers a person, the less he becomes attracted to them, for some reason, even if the extended thinking time only makes him feel like they’re a better match by the second. Dazai is only genuinely, passionately, instantly attracted to people he knows will pose him some sort of danger and excitement.

Observer’s note: Dazai met Arthur today.

She bites back the groan that’s bubbling out her throat and grins. “Hello, Arthur, Dazai. Having fun?”

“Where’d you been hiding this cutie all this time?” Arthur teases, squeezing Dazai closer to him. “Much fun now that he’s here. I see you’ve started drinking ahead of us.”

“Just a little,” she says. “Shall we find a table?”

The four of them choose a table in the middle of the chaos—Arthur’s suggestion—somewhere midway the bar and buffet. The tables are for six, and the number makes her remember.

“I couldn’t get Isaac to come.”

Dazai shakes his head. “I told you he said he wasn’t interested. Must be working overtime like he usually does.” He nods towards her direction. “Good attempt, though.”

She frowns. “He should really let loose sometimes… I know he’s good at what he does, but a little, one-night-a-year party isn’t going to hurt him is it?”

“Ohoho, what’s this, have another cute friend I have to know?” Arthur interrupts.

Dazai taps Arthur’s nose gently and she wants to vomit. What has she done. “Isaac Newton, a Ph.D. student from the physics department. Too serious for his own good.”

Surprise fills Arthur’s face. “My, isn’t that Newt? Teaches classes sometimes?” She and Dazai nod. “Small world!”

“Next year we’re really finding a way to drag him in,” she says.

To which Dazai laughs, “you won’t be here next year, Toshiko-san.”

There’s a small sliver of silence that settles in between them, just long enough to be felt but not for the conversation to come to an abrupt halt. It makes Theo flinch a little.

“Then it’s up to you guys, isn’t it?” she takes her second glass of literary cocktail—she doesn’t even know what’s in this one, just pointed at the menu, it was titled Wolf Totem—and downs half of it in one go.

“Maybe if a girl came around to bring him, he’d be more persuadable,” Arthur teases, “Look at my chap Theo over here.”

“So you’re Theo, huh?” Dazai purrs. She throws a glare at him that goes ignored. “Nice to finally meet you, I’ve heard a lot about you.”

Theo only nods as a response and she takes the chance to get the conversation back in a direction that makes her a little safer from their teasing. “But no, really, Isaac? Coming for a girl? You don’t know him at all, Arthur.”

“Oh, even the toughest guys fall back to romance, don’t they, Theo?”

Theo throws a glare towards Arthur; it is shrugged off as the newly-formed suddenly-a-couple laughs in unison.

Despite the ruckus, the four of them still have some good fun at the party. Arthur Arthur’s non-stop insisting that they play the party games has them rewarded with many things: a stupid award here or there, minuscule amounts of cash that could be used in the future for dine-outs, and even a nice bottle of high-end “water”—it was definitely vodka, the organizers just couldn’t announce it out loud. She and Dazai had to stand up a couple of times to go meet their college-mates in their department, but the four of them stayed mostly together until past dinner—that is until the dance music started to rev up, getting ready for the long night ahead.

“Excuse the two of us, we’re going to do some actual dancing, like people do at parties to have fun,” Arthur says, but his face is already littered in glitter from the poppers and his face is dusted pink from all the alcohol. Obviously, dancing isn’t required to have fun at all. Taking Dazai’s hand like a gentleman, sliding his arm around the other man’s waist, Arthur makes a comical bow to which she makes a face. The two disappear into the crowd of people dancing on the dance floor, and the sight of them so obsessed with each other makes her lean back on her chair to take a sip on her—fifth? Sixth? Ah, who is counting?—nth glass of alcohol.

Wary of being the killjoy, Theo gently asks, “Don’t you want to dance?”

“I mean… you don’t want to, do you?” she asks, facing him properly, glass still in hand. “I just felt like it’d be great to hang out with you here and if you’re not up for dancing…”

“If you want to we should go.”

“I’m not going if you’re forcing yourself to.”

“No, I’m not, so—”

“Theo, sit down!” she says, laughing. The alcohol’s given her skin a beautiful pink flush, and her smiles have turned wider, more relaxed. “It’s okay, I promise. Just sit here and drink your—drink. It’s just nice to have company.”

He nods as she turns back to watching the crowd. A smile still settles on her face as she watches the mass of people dancing and shouting to the music. Theo asks, “Do you always go here with someone?”

She shrugs, taking another sip from her glass. “I came alone the first time, and then the next I went with Dazai. He’s pretty popular—when he’s alone, without anyone slung on him, you know? Lots of people dance with him.”

“And you?”

“Me?” she asks, forehead wrinkling. “I’m normal. I sit and drink until my liver begs me to stop. And then dance until my legs beg me to stop when I’m drunk enough.”

He scoffs, but only in that friendly way of defeated acceptance. “Sounds like fun.”

“So much more fun with you around though,” she asserts, tilting her glass to him. “Cheers?”

“For what?”

And she’s quiet for a moment, before she raises her glass again, saying, “To friendship and literature, of course.”

Theo thinks that’s good enough. They clink their glasses gently and then drink.

For the slightest of moments, Theo considers asking the one question that had been on his mind since she invited him to the party. Preparing the clothes to wear to the event only made his curiosity even stronger, but at the same time, he didn’t feel like he had the right to ask. Theo feels content sitting in his uncertainty, the mystery of it hanging in the air.

But the alcohol has made him a little more courageous.

“Can I ask you a question?”

“Shoot!”

“Why didn’t you go as Celia?”

It’s common for a pair of people to attend a costume party in matching outfits with characters that are paired as well. Celia is Marco’s natural pair in the book. Isobel is not. Why didn’t she go as Celia? Theo would not have minded if she did. Celia was fiery and romantic and could see through Marco’s every disguise.

And Isobel longed and longed and never got what she wanted.

“I kind of felt for Isobel, you know?” she answers, in that hesitant way that makes the asker wonder if it’s because of the embarrassment or because of the half-lie. “She was running away, after all. Didn’t you say that was what I was so fixated on?”

And Isobel is only the circus because she was the way for Marco to get to who he loved. Even before he knew who he loved.

“Wouldn’t have expected that from you,” Theo remarks, taking out his little Marco-journal to dust it away idly. “You seem like the type who always feels extensively for the protagonists.”

It takes a moment for the words to sink in, but then, suddenly, her eyes widen brightly. She puts down her glass and quickly swipes the journal Theo kept with him before pulling him up by the wrist. “C’mon, let’s do the photo booth?”

“What?” Theo staggers up. Why so suddenly? “Who’ll watch over the table?”

She places her little hat on the table. “That’ll save it, let’s go.”

Theo can feel his pulse thrumming under his wrist where she’s holding on to him. Theo does not have the will to argue as she drags him to the makeshift studio on the far end of the hall. Instead, he focuses on her—the way her hair’s held up in an intricate braided bun on her head, the fall of her dress over her shoulders, the feeling of his hand around his arm.

She’s such a weird girl, he thinks.

When they get to the end of the line—a short one, bless the universe—she takes out the two tarot cards in her pocket and hands them to him.

“Switch props for the photo,” she explains.

When they get to the photo booth, they opt for two photos; one for her to keep, and another for Theo. They don't even bother with the poses, both half-drunk, holding up their character props as the cameraman fixes the shot. She settles, standing by his side, arms twined, head leaning toward him as the camera flashes once. And Theo can’t help himself when he turns to face her because of that, and before he knows it—the camera flashes once more.

She’s too far into her drinks to have time to think why Theo’s so concerned about seeing the photos first and choosing which one he wants to keep for himself.

It is just a little past midnight when she, Theo, Arthur, and Dazai hop out of the hall. She insisted that it would be better to wait until the end of the night before leaving—making most of the ticket, or something—and the most that they had gotten out of that was a free coupon to a fast-food chain.

That, and this:

She’s half-slung over Theo when she yells at Arthur and Dazai, who are very obviously becoming a little too comfortable with each other, handsy as they huddle together. She shouts: “Jesus, guys, get off each other!”

“Hmm? Right now? Sure, we’d love to, if you don’t mind—”

“NO! NO NOT LIKE THAT!” she yells, pushing away from Theo to nudge Arthur away from Dazai. The new lovebirds just laugh mildly at each other as she huffs and frowns, falling back into step next to Theo. “Oh god, I’ve made the worst mistake of my life.”

“Best mistake of my life,” Dazai says with a slurred laugh, leaning against Arthur. She makes a gagging motion, to which Theo snorts.

Relative to everyone else’s lodging in the university, the van Goghs’ apartment is the one closest to the hall, so the four of them make their way to it, drunk feet stumbling on uneven pavements all the way there. Arthur and Dazai are walking ahead of them—Theo doesn’t know how Arthur knows where he lives, not when he’s never brought him there; that’s a question for a more sober time—and she and Theo walk side-by-side a few feet behind.

She’s not entirely drunk, no, but she’s a little closer to drunk than tipsy, and it shows when she speaks. “Did you have fun today, Theo?” she asks, ignoring the little misstep her conversation has cost her.

Theo has his hands in his pockets, but they’re only seconds away from grabbing her by the arm to steady her. Any minute now. “It was okay.”

She grins. “Great! That’s all I want.” She looks back up in front of them, and Arthur throws one glance upon hearing their conversation, but then quickly looks away. “It’s kinda, uuuuh,” she squints, the words lost. “Different, to hang out with you with ‘thur and ‘zai around.”

See, this is exactly why Theo capped himself off at three drinks. Look—he’s long accepted his less than average tolerance, but to have to babysit a group of drunk college kids… “Bad different?”

“Nuh-uh,” she says. “Jus’ different. Used to only us. ‘t’s nice being alone with ya.”

I don’t want to take care of a drunk you on my own, she hears in her head, and she isn’t quite sure if Theo had actually said it or if it was just a figment of her imagination.

Soon enough, the four of them stumble onto the van Gogh’s front porch, Theo just not-drunk enough to get the key in through the hole. With a click, the four of them are greeted by the bright light of the living room. Arthur must have been the one that hissed. They stagger in, Dazai slamming onto the sofa, Arthur right after him, and she, heading to the refrigerator for some water.

Theo disappears for a moment to check on Vincent in the studio and to tell him that he’s brought his unfortunate group of friends to sober up, and it’s a good thing the drunkards aren’t around with him because the brightness of Vincent’s smile would have knocked them right out.

“I’ll go take a shower,” Theo announces to no one in particular, shouting down the hall as he disappears into his shared bedroom with Vincent. She tries not to think of what that would look like, blaming her wandering thoughts on the alcohol. She’s about on her second glass of water when she spots Vincent headed to the kitchen.

She beams. “Vin-ny~” she reaches out to him and Vincent catches her before she falls.

“Did you have fun at the party?” Vincent asks, half-laughing, as he helps her to sit on the counter—which was what she was trying to do. “How much did you drink?”

She raises her hands up to her face and tries to count, fully knowing she stopped counting after the second glass. “Enough to make me happy,” she answers instead, smiling dumbly at the older van Gogh. “Theo was so grumpy.”

“He was so excited to go, though,” Vincent says, standing next to her. Of course he has no qualms ratting on his younger brother like that. “You should have seen him, preparing for his costume. Did he look just as you imagined?”

“…And better,” she admits, before taking a sip of the water again to sober up a little more. The ice in the glass is helping her brain to chill. “I’m not sure if he had fun, though. I feel kind of bad.”

Vincent hums. “He looks like he had fun. He wouldn’t have brought you guys here otherwise.”

“You think so?” she asks, eyes wide. The blond man laughs.

“I know so.”

By the time Theo comes out of the shower, he’s a little more dressed down, in jeans and a button-up shirt. He looks at Arthur and Dazai, both already long out like a light on the couch, and sighs.

“I suppose you’re sleeping here too,” he asks, looking toward her. She shoots him an awkward grin.

“She can sleep on my bed,” Vincent offers, but Theo shakes his head.

“She can sleep on mine. You sleep on your bed tonight, Vincent. I can sleep in the studio. I’ll just pass by the drugstore a few blocks down for some…” he frowns at Arthur and Dazai, “…Ibuprofen, for tomorrow.”

“Take care on your way out,” Vincent answers, taking a scan at Theo up and down to see if he’s sober enough to go out. Theo really didn’t drink a lot—purposefully, he knew this was going to happen—so he’s standing pretty straight. He nods and makes his way out, the door closing with a gentle click.

After that, she slouches next to Vincent, like she was just holding herself up to seem a little put together for Theo. Vincent pats her on the head gently, like a little child.

“Is something wrong?” he asks.

She sniffles a little, looking down at her shoes. “I was just thinking h’much I’ll miss this.”

“Are you going away?”

“Maybe,” she says, idly. “I want to. Don’t want to. Want to.”

Vincent smiles, the kind of disappointed-but-not-surprised, non-judgmental, gentle smile of an older brother one would give to a younger sibling. Carefully, he hooks her arm around his shoulders, saying, “C’mon, let’s get you to bed,” as he leads her to his shared room with Theo. She is pliant in his arms, legs wobbling but still planted with a balance onto the floor.

The costume she’s in doesn’t look entirely too comfortable to sleep in, so he offers her a loose shirt and some sweatpants to change into. It takes her two minutes too long to fumble into them, but right before he begins to get worried that she’s gotten stuck in the fabric, she knocks at the door to tell Vincent she’s done. He walks in with a glass of water.

“One last before you sleep,” he says, assisting her in drinking. “I hope you don’t have a headache tomorrow.”

But she’s intoxicated, and her brain doesn’t follow along with Vincent, so as she’s drinking the water her eyes are wandering the walls, where various canvases are hung. All of them are Vincent’s, and most of them are unframed, and perhaps have never been seen by anyone besides Vincent and Theo. Once the glass is empty, she turns to Vincent with a glazed look in her eye.

“Do you think there’s going to be something greater for us outside of this place?”

He blinks, taken off guard. She has officially transitioned from clingy, whiny drunk, to having an existential crisis, philosophical drunk. He only laughs lightly, placing the glass on the bedside table as he coaxes her into bed, tucking her under the blanket.

“I sure do hope so.”

#the wonder that’s keeping the stars apart #ikemen vampire #ikevamp theo

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