#This arises because I spent all fucking day trying to find his stupid ass and all he did was send me on a date like a BITCH /lh

[scribe-cas]

i need to explode. Vent post

RAAAAAAAAAAAGGGGHHHHHHH. FUCK. I MISS HIM SO MUCH.

I know and I fucking knew I wasn't going to find him, but my fucking God

How the fuck am I supposed to live like this

"Oh so I have a book character based off of an actual entity who haunted my brain for a little while in the form of alter possession because I had splits at one point and at any mention of him I go literally fucking shitballs insane and will do anything to see him again" like what the fuck is wrong with me /lh

I know I sound insane but that's. Insaner than shit.

Like wow I feel actually awful and freakish some days. I sometimes wonder if this is actually here or if it's just all in my head and some huge fucking coincidence. It seems like every time I get closer to figuring something out about him or anyone and anything associated with him, it's like I take 4 steps back.

And it's. Heartbreaking. I don't know how else certain things could even have possibly happened without his existence, but also am I somehow just making up all of this shit. Am I going to spend the rest of my life chasing after every redheaded transgender man I see only for my brain and my heart to be left. Empty. Because it's not him.

nobody's ever going to be him, and I doubt anyone would ever want to.

There's just a level of feeling abandoned that's never going to heal.

The only thing that helps is writing my books.

Seeing people connect to them. Seeing people connect to, and emulate, him.

That makes me feel less crazy. It makes me feel like maybe if it is all in my head and if nothing is actually real at least it was kind of worth it.

To quote bojack horseman, which i probably should not have watched:

"That means that all the damage I got isn't 'good damage'. It's just damage. I have gotten nothing out of it and all those years I was miserable was for nothing."

This is what's. Just circling my brain. If he's not real then yeah I kept myself alive but why did I love. What was the point of it all. There are other people who love me and it's wonderful but sometimes I miss his smile and as fucked as it is I wish that I'd run into someone who's even slightly like him.

Just so that i can stare at them and. Like. Remember.

Redheaded long haired trans men it's your time to shine im summoning you from across tumblr, come tell me you love me

Bonus points if you're folklore obsessed, dress like a flamboyant dance student, like heels and bartend /j obviously

But like. I can't explain it. It's devastating i miss my brother man 👍

Thanks tumblr for listening to my tedtalk

[burnedbyshoto]

sleeping beauty

— You struggle to find a time to have sex with your beloved Aizawa. Unfortunately or fortunately, the only time you can fuck him is when he’s deep asleep.

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pairing: aizawa shouta x yandere fem!reader

warnings: 18+, smut, pwp, yandere!reader, non-con somnophilia, hairy aizawa rights, recording

word count: 4,201

a/n: mark ur calendar, im getting my nipples pierced nov 8. you bet ur ass imma write a bunch of nipple pierced readers from there on out. pray that my family never finds out about my nipples tho LMAO if they do,,, it;ll be ripped out of my boobies without a seconds hesitation

kinktober day 19 main kink: somnophilia | kinktober masterlist

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Aizawa was always busy.

Over the past ten years of knowing him, the two of you had been close. You were a good friend to him, someone he wouldn’t absolutely avoid at all costs when you walked through the hallways of UA, someone he wouldn’t mind rambling to him about their long day. Of course, you knew that you weren’t his closest friend, and to a certain degree, that upset you.

You had met Aizawa when you had first been a high school student; at the time, you were merely fifteen years old. He was twenty, only five years older than you, but he took your breath away from the first team-up. He had been tall, dark, and brooding, and your little coming out of an emo phase heart stood no chance. But, due to the age discrepancy, he was never anything more than a team member. Still, you held on.

You graduated from high school, made your impact as a sidekick, graduated to a Pro Hero, and offered a job at UA by the time you were twenty! So, for the past five years, you and Aizawa had been actual co-workers, and better yet, friends.

Aizawa indeed was one of a kind.

He still held the key to your emo school girl fantasy daydream, but you also discovered new sides and angles of him. You learned he was incredibly kind, thoughtful, and looked out for everyone, even if his gruff and sometimes rude mannerisms spoke otherwise. Although he tried to avoid any type of nonsensical drama like the plague, he was always caught up in it, which often amused you.

There was so much about Aizawa that you loved, so much that you adored and looked up to that it was no surprise that you figured your feelings of respect and admiration became love. 

True, deep love.

As a third-year teacher at UA, you found that your interactions with Aizawa were quite limited. Not only because he was always being placed with a first-year class and said class moving on without him — something that only happened because he kept expelling the damn students — but because he was incredibly close with the first-year teachers.

You loved Present Mic and Midnight and All Might, don’t get it wrong! Your admiration, love, and respect for them were unprecedented, but you hated how much of Aizawa’s time they took.

“Sorry, Mic needs help with lesson plans for my class,” Aizawa apologized for postponing your lunch date, not a date.

“Sorry, Midnight needs help separating the problem children. Apparently, they’re growing an immunity to her quirk,” Aizawa grumbled, shoving his phone into his pocket before leaving your office where you both had been talking and drinking tea.

“Sorry, All Might—”

“It the class, your problem children, I get it,” you force a smile onto your face, trying not to show just how irritated and disappointed you were on how these days were going. Aizawa pauses for a second, his tired, dried out eyes trying to read and uncover the depths of emotions swimming in your eyes before he sighs and runs off. 

But it went without saying that the people you hated most were Class 1-A.

The damn stupid, fucking, ungrateful class had already caused your beloved Aizawa to be hospitalized. The scar under his eye, a numbing reminder that you had nearly lost him, almost had to cry at his coffin with your feelings never once being uttered. They, without a doubt, took up his time the most.

He saw potential in all of them, none of them being failed or expelled by him thus far.

He spent countless hours up in the dead of night tracking each and every one of his student’s potential. Slaving away at his tablets to make sure that they all were feeling safe, heroic, and above all, they were headed to their individual greatness. So, although it would be two more years before you would have the opportunity to teach this class, you already had a vendetta against Midoriya Izuku and Bakugou Katsuki. Those little shits always taking up your precious Aizawa’s time! He had never been this tired prior to them showing up!

But you never tried to think about it when you were with him.

You tried to openly accept your Aizawa’s new, incredibly busy schedule, and the moment the dorms appeared within UA, you found yourself more at ease.

To be frank, since you acknowledged your love for Aizawa at the mere age of twenty, and now at twenty-five, you had never taken on a lover or a one night stand. For years you had not allowed a person to grace you in bed or in their arms. It felt like you were betraying your love, and you would rather die than let that happen. 

But the thing is, you are human, entirely susceptible to waves of uncontrolled horniness and lust.

In the beginning, sex toys worked.

You would press a vibrator to your clit, your toes digging into the mattress as your other hand shoved a silicone dildo into your aching, needy cunt. At first, it worked! You would cum with the thoughts of Aizawa being the dildo buried deep within you. 

But eventually, you would find yourself at the peak of that orgasm, you knew the orgasm was right beyond the bend, just a step more, but you couldn’t get there. For weeks you realized that the vibrator, the dildo, and your fantasy thoughts weren’t enough. So, in your frustration, you began to search up audio plays of his narration at UA Sports Festival. Listening to his voice, ignoring Mics’ voice, to help coax you over that bend.

For a while, you were back to normal. Your highs and juices splattering all over your bed, a symbol of your lust and love for Aizawa as you gasped his name, wishing that the audio was real. But eventually, even the audios weren’t enough.

You craved Aizawa’s warmth, the feeling of his rough stubble against your sensitive skin, the throbbing of his cock buried deep within your womb, undoubtedly kissing your cervix. You wanted him; you needed your beloved.

As if by the grace of God, the moment you could no longer bring yourself to cum through that alone, the dorm system was put into place. And you, a teacher, were required to live on campus too. You tried not to think of Aizawa being a dorm away, tried not to feel the warmth fluttering under your skin when the two of you bid goodnight for the day.

You definitely tried to stay out of his room in the middle of the night.

God, you wish you could say that you stayed out of his room, but that would be a lie.

A big fat fucking lie.

It had started out innocently enough, you will claim.

You would see the exhausted man wave goodnight, grumbling that he needed to sleep now or else he would not wake up on time for homeroom tomorrow morning. You waved goodnight to him, trying to stay engrossed in a conversation you were having with Hound Dog. But an hour after Aizawa had gone to bed, you found yourself rushing away from the common room, explaining you had something to grade as you bid everyone goodnight.

Without a doubt, you ended up in Aizawa’s room that night.

In the darkness of the night, you watched the moonlight barely breach the thickness of his curtains to fall onto his face. You felt so warm as you stared at his slumbered face, your cheeks flushed as you watched his parted, chapped lips. You felt so light watching his chest rise and fall in a hypnotizing rhythm, reminding you that he is real, so very, very real. A part of you aching, knowing that he was entirely real and yet not yours. But still, you admired the way he looked so young, so intense, so ethereal as he dreamed.

You loved him.

Eventually, when you decided to leave, you pressed a kiss to his lips, smiling at the way his lips were exactly as you had imagined:

Supple, warm, and tasting of his mint toothpaste.

But the nightly visits didn’t stop there.

Most nights, you found yourself in his room, laying by his side, merely watching as he slept. No orgasm in the world felt quite as fulfilling as the quiet that came with just watching the over-exhausted Aizawa sleep. 

But this is not a story of simple love, no, not at all.

Eventually, you began to grow bold. Your fingers sinking into your wet cunt, playing with your sensitive clit as you watched him sleep. You bit your lip to keep yourself from moaning as a rasped breath expelled from his mouth. You nuzzled into the warmth of his body heat through at you and only prayed he would one day acknowledge and return your affections.

To be quite honest, you’re not sure when you began to suck him off too.

Maybe it was the first time his cock grew long and hard in the middle of the night, his mind undoubtedly having a wet dream. So, as his beloved, you only thought it was appropriate to give his body what he wanted. With the skills and intentions that could only arise from being a gifted Pro Hero, you pulled the blankets from his body and pushed his cock through the slit in his boxers, and took him all in your mouth.

His cock was absolutely mouthwatering too.

So big, so thick, so incredibly veiny that you nearly lost all control the first time you saw it in all its glory. He was better than any dildo you owned, his scent alone driving you crazy. And so, as you should, you began to fuck him, completely addicted to his aroma, taste, and touch.

After the first night, you continued to blow him. Continued to suck him off as Aizawa let out sleepy moans, grunts that were strained, his body shifting unknowingly as you continued to go up and down his length, continuing to relieve him of his stress. 

But you were human.

A human with needs and desires, and eventually, his cum coating your throat and filling your stomach wasn’t enough anymore. Which is where we find ourselves now, unashamedly fucking Aizawa each and every night, your cunt swallowing him whole, without a single shred of doubt of what was wrong with this.

There wasn’t anything wrong with this, and you knew that even if he was asleep the entire time you fucked him, it was for the better.

“Wow, Eraser!” Mic yelled from your side as you sat on the couch next to your beloved best friend. “You look like you’re glowing!”

Looking up from your phone, attempting to portray yourself as curious and unknowing, you found your gaze falling onto Aizawa, who had returned from an early evening training session with his class. As a matter of fact, Aizawa’s face was glowing; he looked incredibly much more relaxed, much more than he has been since the beginning of this semester.

“What do you mean?” Aizawa asked, evidently unimpressed as a lone eyebrow raised.

You watched on quietly, lips pressing to your cup as you took a drink of your tea as he sank onto a seat in front of you. 

“Wait, don’t tell me, listeners!” Mic gasped dramatically, his hands pressing to his cheeks as he stood up. His expression of shock and disbelief curling and becoming one of knowing and understanding. “Does our grouchy, one and only, Aizawa Shouta, a.k.a. Eraserhead, have a special someone?!”

“Mic—” Aizawa snapped, his eyebrows furrowing.

“There definitely has been an after-sex glow that Eraser has had for the past few weeks. He did say that he’s been feeling more… ahem, relaxed,” Midnight gasped, seemingly appearing from nowhere, incredibly interested in the rumor of Aizawa having sex. 

“Just because I’ve been feeling less tense doesn’t mean that I’m having sex.”

You giggled into your cup as the three of them began arguing, Mic and Midnights naturally loud noise quickly drowning out Aizawa’s fruitless attempts to shut down any sexscapades they were coming up with. 

“Y/h/n, what do you think?!” Mic yelled, his hand pointed at you as if holding a microphone as Aizawa had him pressed and tangled within his capturing weapon. “Is Shouta-chan having sex?!”

Yes, your mind begs to say, but your mouth curls into a teasing smile, eyes locking onto Aizawa’s annoyed golden ones. 

“I don’t think there’s anyone on this earth that Aizawa currently wants to fuck six feet into the mattress when he’s so busy,” you chide, your smile never entirely disappearing. At the same time, you take a long slow drink from your cup while everyone else (Mic only, really) continued to scream.

But you stayed there for the rest of the evening, working in silence with the rest of the group as next week’s lessons were laid out. Through a persistent, entirely stubborn will, Mic managed to get Aizawa to admit that he hasn’t had sex since the time he lost his virginity, to which Mic admitted to having had sex via orgies only. Midnight proudly announcing that she had a side piece at her disposal. 

So as you checked through your lesson plans for the ethics book your students would be reading next week, you shouldn’t have been surprised to see their expectant gazes on you.

“I had sex last night,” you admit, unable to lie under their amused gazes.

“WITH WHO?! ARE YOU SNEAKING SOMEONE ON CAMPUS?!”

For the rest of the night, you smiled brightly, laughing with the rest of them all as talks and stories revolving around sex filled the air. It lasted until past midnight, and with a heavy sigh, Aizawa excused himself first. You waved goodnight, and soon Midnight left, followed by Mic.

You stayed on the couch, your own attention focused heavily on the time and not what you were supposed to be doing. It didn’t take much before the time faded from 00:00 to 01:45, and with a brush of your skirt, you headed precisely where you wanted and needed to be.

The walk to his second-floor room filled you with lust. Your body, like some Pavlovian dog, trained and knowing that you were about to fuck the love of your life while he slept. He was so beautiful while he slept, a true sleeping beauty. You especially thought he was stunning when he bit his lower lip, stifling a moan despite his heavy slumber.

Without so much as a second thought, you apparated into his room, your feet cushioned by the soft carpet of his room. And with a smile that was dripping with your love, you stared at Aizawa’s sleeping form. He was already deep in sleep, his body positioned on his back as if he knew what you were doing, accepting the inevitable actions you would take tonight as you did every night. He just looked so calm, so beautiful, so youthful when asleep. The scar under his eye almost invisible 

But unlike most nights where he slept in a soft cotton long-sleeved shirt and sweats, you froze at the sight of the tight black t-shirt on his sleeping form, the shorts that were riding just the slightest bit too low on his sturdy, muscled hips. Your bit your fist, a bubbling heat of lust, and a whine tickling the back of your throat as you take in his sleeping form.

He was doing this on purpose.

Teasing you with this outfit on his sleeping body.

You huffed, inexplicably turned on as the small puffs of air past his lips seemed to thunder around the room.

You were wet already, so very wet.

“You’re so mean, Shouta-kun,” you whimper softly, your voice silent and unheard by his sleeping form. You walk closer to the bed, lips pulled into a pout as you sit on the soft mattress.  “Dressing up like that, I know you did that to tease me!”

Aizawa doesn’t respond because, of course, he’s asleep. But you smile regardless, imagining a million and three things he would say in response, each leading to what you wanted to do so desperately.

“I hope you know you were lying when you said you haven’t had sex since you were twenty,” you sigh, your fingers expertly removing his shorts and boxers from around his waist, using your quirk to make them reappear to the side of him. “We have sex practically every night; you’re so horny, my angel.”

You watch with a curling smile as his cock immediately begins to stiffen against your warm breaths, his face scrunching in his slight discomfort as his cock grows and grows. His cock is undeniably one of your favorite parts of his body. It’s pale in color, paler than the rest of his body, but as it extended to the swollen thickness of his head, it grew darker, the flushed brown pinkness of his head making you salivate at the memory of the first time you ever saw it. His cock, unlike the rest of his scarred body, was unharmed, unmarred by the horrors of the job the two of you held. The thick, beautiful smoothness of his skin, making your eyes flutter in unadulterated lust, his cock a symbol of your pure, unmarked love for him. You hum, hand grasping his length and lazily stroking him as your head tilts, reading his sleeping features for any sign of him enjoying this as much as you do.

“Aww, Shouta-kun, I wish you knew I fuck you. I bet you would turn bright red, knowing that I ride you every night. Maybe you’d use that weapon of yours to teach me a lesson or two,” you mumble, your hand gripping his cock harder as you stroke him.

A small glistening drop appears at the slit of his dick, and you shiver in excitement; he was already leaking pre-cum. 

“Look at you, already ready to have my cunt wrapped around that big cock of yours,” you mewl, absolutely ready to mount him, prepared to have his sleeping form cum deep within you. You stand up, removing your shorts and panties, and climbing onto the bed.

With the balance of a pro, you get yourself hovering over him, your already wet cunt shivering with the expectance of having him deep within you. Your hand on his cock never once stopping as you tease yourself against his swollen head, your voice a pathetic whimper as your slick mixes with his clear pre-cum.

“S-See how embarrassing you are!” you huff, rutting his length between his folds, lubing him up for the initial entrance because, by god, it still hurt. “Making my pussy so wet! I’m practically dripping all over you!”

There’s only a soft breath from his lips, but you grin as if he was speaking to you.

“You want me too, huh?” you giggle, and without further adieu, you sink against him.

His cock entering your tight cunt was still as mind-numbing as the first time. His cock easily buries into the small, thin wall of your cervix, and you tremble as his length stretches and pulls at your throbbing core. You can feel every curve in his cock, every vein, every gentle throb.

“Glad t-to know you find me… nnghh… find me i-irresistible,” you pant, face flushed with your desire to adjust quickly around him.

The conversation from tonight had made you entirely weak in the knees and hot at your core, knowing that you were the only one to really have claimed Aizawa, the only one who would ever know how his sleeping body craved you as much as you desired him.

You give a tentative swirl of your hips, your eyes trained on Aizawa’s relaxed ones, testing to see how tired and sleepy he was. There was no reaction, no movement outside of the typical grunt at the back of his throat. It was a noise he always made when you first moved with him, a noise that quickly seared in the back of your memory forever.

Shifting your weight to be more comfortable on your knees, your hot hands fall onto his tight chest, and with a sigh of pure relief, you begin to fuck him.

Your straddling aided the deep penetration, allowing for the gentle kiss of the tip of his leaking cock to your thin cervix wall. You clenched tightly around him, unable to keep yourself from doing so as you rode him, the feeling of his throbbing member within you absolutely breathing taking as you placed your claim on him again, again, and again.

Aizawa was fully sheathed within you, and your fingers twisted and pulled at the tight fabric of his shirt, raising it up so that you could admire his taut, tense abdomen, mewling at the way he’s happy trail was thick and bushy. You wondered how he would react to your fingers threading through his body hair, if he would love it; if he would hate it. 

“I want you to know how much I love you, how much I would give everything to you!” you whimper, your head fighting the instinct to throw itself back as you begin to drop onto his still cock faster and faster. “I wish you knew that you fuck me so good, Shouta-kun; I need you to know that! But you won’t even look at me! You won’t spare me a single second of your busy day, so that’s why I have to fuck you at night!”

Tears of both pleasure and hurt well into your eyes; you sniffle as you fuck him faster, dropping onto his awaiting cock with more significant, more aggressive slaps. The sounds echo throughout the room, the musky, sweet smell of your sexes is the only thing keeping you sane — that and the grunting noises that Aizawa keeps emitting, it makes your toes curl and belly flutter in a funny way.

“I bet you’ll fuck me so good once I get you to love me! You’ll never stop fucking me, you’ll never want to leave me because only I know how to fuck you correctly!” you snap, anger and lust licking through your tone, making your eyebrows furrow and your walls to clench even tighter around him. The building tension in your stomach is like a fire, and you can feel your high coming. “But you fuck me so good, baby, so good and you’re not even awake!”

And for the first time, you watch in electrifying pleasure as a low, husky, raspy moan leaves his throat as you fucked him. The sound alone was something downright pornographic to you, and the whine that spills from your mouth is nearly inaudible with the pitch it vibrates at. So without so much as a second thought, a bubbling smile spreads on your face, and you continue on, energy and excitement doubled in your joy.

Your hips roll, rise, and fall against his with growing force and speed. The small creaks of the mattress completely ignored by you as the throbbing and twitching of his cock buried deep within you keeps you pushing for more. The heat and pressure in your belly grow exponentially, festering and burning until you can feel yourself at the tipping point until you can’t do anything but focus on Aizawa and only Aizawa, or else you would scream his name in your euphoria.

The veins on his cock and the overall girth of his length send your mind spinning, not at all helping your predicament, and in a last-ditch effort to keep yourself from crying so loudly you would wake up even the dead, you lean forward. Your sweaty body leaning down to his parted chapped lips as you kiss him to keep yourself silent as your orgasm crashes through you in a blissful wave. Your body spasms almost uncontrollably, the nerves and firing axons through your body uncontrollable as you lay there, allowing for Aizawa to cum before you leave. You shudder at the feeling of his cum emptying out within you, his cock immediately softening as you lay there on top of him. His heart racing with his orgasm, and you sigh contentedly.

“God, I love you so much, Aizawa Shouta; I’ll make you mine one day,” you swear, your nose nuzzling his stubbled cheek.

You lay there for some time, enjoying the way he feels in you, content with the pooling cum from your still spasming cunt. But eventually, you pull away. You pull on your panties and shorts quickly, not wanting a single drop more of his cum to seep out of you. Unable to help yourself, you lick the leftover cum on his cock clean with your tongue before wiping him down with a towel to prevent the smell from clinging.

Your eyes study Aizawa’s face just before you leave, and your smile.

He really does look less tired after orgasming.

But the entire time you were there — the whole night you fucked him and spoke to him — you missed the red blinking light of the camera recording in the corner of the room.

[jschllatt]

𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐘𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆’𝐒 𝐆𝐎𝐍𝐍𝐀 𝐁𝐄 𝐎𝐊𝐀𝐘 | 𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦

Prompt: After a difficult breakup, you seek your (ex) best friend for comfort. 

Warnings: Angst, breakup, swearing

Pairing: Dream x GN!Reader (Platonic)

Words: 2.2k

Masterlist

I wrote this for the amazing, talented Dreamie! Go follow @dreamiewrites or else >:( /lh

Love hurts. 

Months ago, if someone were to ask you to describe love, you probably would’ve said something along the lines of ‘passionate’ or ‘fulfilling,’ having been unfamiliar with its heart wrenching effects. Now, as you sat in your car, breathing erratically as you tried to process the words that echoed perpetually in your scattered brain, the only thing you felt was utter misery. The last seven months you had spent with him were pure bliss—at least, they were in your eyes. After years of searching for someone to make you feel whole, you had finally found that person. And for some time, it was perfect. Your relationship was void of any complications; the two of you hardly ever fought, and when you did, it was over something minor that was forgotten about after a few hours. 

But then, things went downhill. 

As time passed, it became glaringly obvious that the two of you didn’t feel the same anymore. Days that were once spent in each other's company were endured alone, the two of you busying yourselves in a futile attempt to ignore your dwindling relationship. Every passing hour was a constant reminder of the ache in your chest, the void that was slowly but surely swallowing your heart whole as you felt your world crashing down.

 Then, he broke you. He uttered those dreaded words that tore at your heart in such a way that it became hard to breathe. And then, he made you leave, suffocating you entirely. 

The sun had begun to set by the time you found the courage to start your car, heart pounding rapidly in your constricted chest. Your watery eyes flickered toward his house, taking in every possible detail your obscured vision could manage before you pulled out of his driveway for the last time. Sorrow crept up your throat in the form of an unwanted lump and you couldn’t help but let out a prolonged sob, feeling your body tremble as an onslaught of tears poured down your face. You weren’t sure where to go. Having been accustomed to living with your boyfriend—ex-boyfriend—for the past few months, you hadn’t planned on moving out; at least not for a while. Feeling foolish of your naivety, another sob escaped your lips, any remaining sliver of hope you had vanishing quickly along with the final bits of your composure. Your cries made it difficult to drive, vision clouded by a thick sheen of tears as you hiccupped pitifully. Sucking in a deep breath in a failed attempt to steady yourself, you continued to drive aimlessly into the night, unsure of where to go. A few silent minutes had passed and you found it increasingly difficult to see the road, your teary, bloodshot eyes obscuring your vision, and pulled over onto the side of the street. Despite the hollowness you felt in your chest, the initial wave of shock had subsided, leaving you numb. The unbearable silence that hung heavily in your parked car allowed for your thoughts to run freely and that was when you finally processed your situation. Not only were you alone, but you were also incredibly exhausted and helpless. Your hands sported a slight tremor as you reached for your phone, your bleary, red eyes finding difficulty making out any of the contacts you scrolled through. You felt your breath hitch as soon as you saw Clay’s name and for a brief moment, a shaky finger hovered over his contact, contemplating the outcome. Then, without a second thought, you pressed call. In any other circumstance, you would’ve avoided contacting him, especially considering the recent distance that had grown between the two of you, but you were too desperate to care. 

It had been a few months since you’d last talked to Clay. At one point, the two of you were inseparable. You met in high school and became friends, eventually growing significantly closer. You spent most of your free time with the boy, finding comfort in his congenial presence and found yourself beside him more often than not. Even after you graduated, the two of you remained strong. That was, until, he introduced you to his friend—his stupid fucking friend—and unknowingly destroyed you. 

Clay answered after the fourth ring, his voice soft yet tinged with a subtle hesitancy as he uttered, “Hello?” Feeling guilt creep up in your chest, you couldn’t help but feel selfish, suddenly regretful of your decision. It had been months since you last talked to him and you had only considered reaching out to him simply because you had no one else to call. “Hey.” You replied before you could stop yourself, cringing at the waver of your tone. There was a slight shuffling before Clay answered again, “What’s up? We haven’t talked in a while.” A fresh set of tears flooded your eyes at his innocent words, followed by a sob you didn’t mean to let out. Clay immediately frowned, furrowing his brows in confusion. “Are you okay? Talk to me.” Shaking your head, you sniffled sadly before whimpering, “We broke up.”

That was all Clay needed to hear in order to understand why you had called him. He felt his body tense as you continued to cry, finding difficulty keeping his voice level as he asked, “What happened? Do you wanna talk about it?” You shut your eyes, leaning back in your seat with tear-stained cheeks. Lifting up your sleeve-covered hand to wipe at your dripping nose, you sniffled once again, weakly replying, “N-no, I just…” Clay waited patiently for you to continue, “can I just come over for a little while? I feel horrible asking, especially because we haven’t talked in so long, but I just...I have nowhere else to go.” Clay felt his heart shatter at your broken words, a deep ache arising in his chest. “Of course, you can stay as long as you want. Do you need me to come get you?” Mumbling a shaky ‘no,’ you tried to regain your composure, wiping away the remainder of tears that dampened the surface of your skin. “Alright. Just drive safe, okay? Call me back if you need me to come get you.” 

“Okay. Thank you so much, Clay, I don’t know how to thank you, I-”

“There’s no need to thank me. I told you I’d always be here for you, didn’t I?”

He did. Even though it was years ago, you’d never forget the night he told you that—the night in which you’d gotten your heart broken for the first time. Bodies were swarming around you as you swayed subtly to the music, eyes scanning over the crowd of drunken teenagers in hopes that you would find your boyfriend. Following your gaze, Clay yelled over the music, “Can’t find him?” Shaking your head in disappointment, you stood on your tip-toes, giving the room a final once-over before giving up. Your boyfriend had practically begged you to go to some random party with him, but conveniently ignored the countless texts you had sent him, thus leading to Clay accompanying you instead.  “I’m sure you’ll find him soon.” Your best friend reasoned, noticing your dismay. With a tight smile, you nodded weakly, feeling disheartened and slightly embarrassed of your boyfriend’s absence. You tried to sound nonchalant as you replied, “Yeah, I’m gonna go to the bathroom really quick. Watch my drink?” Clay nodded in response, shooting you a reassuring grin before you headed upstairs. When you finally reached the top of the stairs, you were met with a confusing hallway. It revealed four doors, all in which were shut, paint chipping at the edges of each in a rather noticeable manner. Unsure of which led to the bathroom, you tried the first door on the left. No luck. Huffing, you tried the door on the right. Still nothing. Trying a third door, you cringed as it’s hinges squeaked noisily. If the grimy, faded paint wasn’t a dead giveaway of the house’s outdatedness, then the unpleasant groans of its features certainly were. You grimaced at the deafening screech, and then your heart dropped into your stomach. From inside the bathroom stood your boyfriend, lips locked with someone whose face was obscured from your view. Upon noticing your presence, your boyfriend nearly jumped in surprise, his expression one of regret as he watched your face fall. Feeling your stomach grow sick at the sight, you slammed the door shut before either of you could say a word, hurrying down the stairs to find Clay. 

“That was quick,” he observed with an amused smile once you neared him, his pleased countenance fading once he noticed your crestfallen expression. “I have to go.” Your voice was quiet, nearly inaudible over the yelling of the rowdy crowd around you, and your fingers wrapped around Clay’s arm, your grip a silent indication of your distress. “What happened?” He asked, eyeing the hold you had on his arm as you tried desperately to pull him away from the crowd. “I found him, h-he…” You trailed off, still appalled by your discovery, and felt your eyes begin to well up with tears. Clay frowned, using the grip you had on his arm to weave you around the jumbled mass of drunken teenagers around you. You didn’t let go of him until the two of you made it to his car, silent as Clay waited for you to tell him what you’d seen. Staring down into your lap, your expression was one of sorrow as a few tears slipped down your cheeks, dripping onto your thighs silently. “I found him,” You started, chuckling dryly as the recent memory replayed in your head, “he was cheating on me.” Clay stared at you intently, his expression stoic though he felt himself grow furious. The thought of someone breaking your heart made him furious, and the sight of you crying made him want to pummel your stupid boyfriend into the ground until he was a bloody pulp. “I’m so sorry, I can’t believe he would do that to you. You don’t deserve that.” He reached out to grab your hand, his touch soothing as he continued, “I’ll beat his ass if you want.” Clay’s offer elicited a broken laugh from your trembling lips. The sound made him smile, but he found himself growing solemn once again as he reassured you. “I mean it. No one hurts my best friend without getting their ass kicked. Now c’mere.” He opened his arms so he could embrace you, to which you gladly accepted. A few quiet moments passed and you mumbled into his shoulder, “Thank you, Clay. I don’t know what I’d do without you.” The boy smiled to himself, rubbing a comforting hand up and down your back before promising, “Of course. I’ll always be here for you no matter what.” 

Chuckling sadly, you couldn’t help but smile at his words, “Yeah, you did.” The memory flooded your heart with a deeper wave of sadness, a sudden longing filling up your chest as you recounted that night with a sad smile. Clay had always been there for you, and at times, you were too blind to see it. The thought brought more tears to your eyes and you tried to push away your sadness with a slight clear of your throat. “I meant it then, I mean it now. I’ll always be here for you no matter what.” He repeated. There was a brief silence before he spoke again, his voice steady, “I’ll see you when you get here, okay?” You nodded in a hopeless attempt to compose yourself, feeling some of the hollowness in your heart disappear as a result of Clay’s support. You sniffled one last time before replying, “Okay.” The silence that ensued the end of the call left you feeling even emptier than before, the sudden solitude becoming unbearable as you drove wordlessly to Clay’s. The sky had changed significantly since you’d last noticed it, its once cerulean hue now a stormy grey as dusk began to roll in.  

Twenty minutes later, you arrived at Clay’s. You felt oddly nervous as you parked in his driveway, anxiety building up in your stomach though you’d been here countless times before. Everything appeared to be relatively the same, but you felt different, unsure, out of place. Your mind was running a million miles a minute, but you ignored your rampant thoughts and approached the front door, knocking hesitantly. A few seconds passed before Clay swung the door open, his expression softening once he met your eyes. He noticed every little detail that tugged at his heart pitifully, from your tear-stained cheeks to your puffy eyes, and opened his arms immediately. Grateful for the gesture, you nearly collapsed into Clay’s embrace, feeling a lump form in your throat at the simple affection. You couldn’t help but sob into his chest, overcome by a sense of relief as you engulfed yourself in his arms. Clay’s touch was soothing, and you slowly felt your pain dissipate, replaced by the familiarity of his embrace. “It’s okay, you’re gonna be okay. I’ve got you.” Clay assured gently, squeezing you briefly as he continued to murmur into your ear, “Everything’s gonna be okay.” You recognized the truth behind his words, realizing that you were here, safe in Clay’s arms, being comforted by your best friend who’d you missed so much. 

You were gonna be okay.

[hxwks-gf]

» 𝐢𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐞 

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: dabi x fem!reader 

𝐰/𝐜: 1.8k 

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: swearing, sexual themes, smoking, angst without a happy ending (i’m sorry ;-;)

𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭: so read something on kisses and what they mean like forehead kisses mean protection. A kiss on the hand means adoration. Stuff like that. One that intrigued me the most was shoulder kisses which means you're willing to share someone's burden with them. So I was wondering how Dabi would react to things like that considering all that he's been through it's obvious he doesn't trust anyone. So what if he one day stumbles upon someone who kisses him in weird places. He thinks she just wants to get into his pants but then he finds out what those kisses mean and then I guess I'll leave the ending to you.

beta’d by the lovely and talented @a-monsters-love xoxo

Dabi cradled his phone between his shoulder and ear and leaned against the kitchen counter. “You want to come over tonight?” he asked into it, glancing around the state of his current living situation and making a face. “I don’t know, doll. I got some business to take care of.” 

“Take me with you, then.” 

He chuckled, taking the phone in his hand and facing the sink. “You know what kind of business I do, baby. Not a good influence on an angel like you.” 

“Don’t try to sweet talk me, Dabi. I miss you.” 

Dabi tipped his head back and sighed in defeat. “Fine. Only because you sound so desperate.” 

“Asshole.” 

“Heh, that’s my girl. I’ll pick you up in twenty.” Dabi ended the call and shoved the phone into the pocket of his trousers, running a hand through his dark hair and sighing again. He knew he shouldn’t be doing this, taking you on his little business dealings so late at night. Despite you not being a stranger to the shittier side of town, he still had some strange urge to...look out for you? Dabi grimaced and shook his head. “Damn it.” 

“Are you going out with that shifty dude again?” asked your roommate and friend, Isaki. She watched you from the ratty armchair in the corner, her various piercings reflecting the lights from the kitchen. “The one with all the scars?” 

“His name is Dabi,” you reminded her while pulling on your leather jacket with a grin. “And watch who you call ‘shifty’, Miss Sticky Fingers.” 

Isaki rolled her eyes and went back to flipping through the book in her lap. “If you end up on a missing persons poster, I won’t feel sorry for you.” 

You chuckled as you opened the front door. “Yes, you will, because I’m the one who pays the rent, freeloader.” 

“I don’t freeload, I pay for Netflix!” she shouted after you, but you closed the door before she could say anything else and skipped past the broken elevator and down the stairwell.

Dabi was waiting for you outside, leaning against the side of the building with a cigarette hanging from his scarred lips. Once he saw you, he stood up straight and grinned. 

“Hey, beautiful,” he said as you neared him. 

“Hi,” you said, pulling the cigarette from his lips and taking a long drag. “Miss me?” 

“Not at all,” he replied, grabbing you by the waist and yanking you against his torso. He bent his neck and kissed you deeply, tasting of cigarettes and midnight air. 

You slid a hand up to wrap around his neck, mindful of his scars, and buried it in the softness of his dark hair. He chuckled against your mouth and pulled away. 

“You’re dangerous,” he murmured, looking down at you in his arms.  

“You like me because I’m dangerous,” you shot back, taking another puff from the cigarette and blowing the smoke to the side. “Isn’t that right?” 

“Something like that.” Dabi watched you through half-lidded eyes as you took one last drag and dropped it to put it out with the toe of your boot. “Ready to go?”

“One more,” you said, standing up on your tip-toes and placing another kiss on his parted lips. As you pulled away, you gently took his bottom lip in between your teeth and dragged them across the soft flesh. He groaned into your mouth and his grip tightened on your waist.

“Don’t do that, doll. You know how much I like that.” 

“Why do you think I did it?” you teased, stepping out of his embrace and dancing away. You glanced over your shoulder at him.

His eyes were focused on your ass, but flicked up to your face a moment later with a roguish grin. 

“Are we going to take care of business, or not?” you asked, arching an eyebrow.

Dabi pushed himself off the side of the building and joined you, draping an arm around your shoulders and guiding you down the street, his other hand tucked in his pocket. As the two of you strolled along the dimly lit sidewalks, you couldn’t have felt more safe by his side.

“Are you ever going to tell me who you work for?” you asked him, pulling your post-sex-mussed shirt over your head and picking up your discarded pants. 

He chuckled as he lit another cigarette, watching you with lazy, lustful eyes. “I’m sworn to secrecy, doll. Besides, for all I know you could be a spy.” 

“I’d make a lousy spy,” you said, buttoning your pants. “I can’t ever keep a secret.” 

Dabi took a drag and placed an arm behind his head. “Why do you want to know who I work for, then?” 

You shrugged and sat on the edge of the bed to put your boots back on. “Curiosity.” 

“Curiosity killed the cat, you know.” 

“That’s true,” you said with a smirk, forgetting your boots and climbing back onto the bed. He looked up at you as you straddled him, placing your hand on his bare, scarred chest. You leaned down and pressed tantalizing kisses along his jaw, down his neck, and back to his lips. “But satisfaction brought it back,” you murmured against his mouth. 

“Jesus,” Dabi groaned, his free hand traveling along your thigh and under your shirt. “Keep talking like that and I’m not letting you leave this apartment.” 

You laughed and slid off of him. “Isaki’ll kill you.” 

“Not the first time someone’s tried.” He dropped his cigarette into the nearby ashtray and leaned in for another kiss. 

“Funny,” you said, reaching out and cradling his scarred cheek. “I don’t want to overstay my welcome.” 

Dabi sighed and leaned back. “Alright.” He turned around and swung his legs over the side of the bed, his back facing you. 

You bit your lip and looked away. You wanted to stay, sure. You loved being around him. The sex was always amazing. But you also knew that he wasn’t the relationship type; you were afraid that if you got too comfortable, you would wake up one day and he would be gone. That, and the fact that it didn’t take a PhD to figure out that his line of work was dangerous, even for you.

The only thing you could do was lean forward and press a gentle kiss to his exposed shoulder, as a means to express that he meant more to you than just some hook-up. Dabi tensed beneath your lips, but said nothing. After a quiet moment passed, you pulled away to retrieved your forgotten boots.

Dabi leaned against the railing on your patio and exhaled the cigarette smoke into the cold night air, scrolling through his text messages on his phone with his other hand. The moonlight illuminated his scarred face and dark hair as he took another drag. 

Laughter from within your apartment pulled his attention away from his phone and he looked up through the glass sliding door. Immediately, he felt that strange feeling in the pit of his stomach that always seemed to arise every time he saw you, and this time was no different. You were laughing at some stupid joke your roommate said, head thrown back to expose that beautiful neck he loved to sink his teeth into while he fucked you. But...he also noticed your smile, your sparkling eyes, and the way your shirt had slipped off your shoulder in the midst of your laughter. This wasn’t happening.

Dabi took another drag and irritably tapped a finger along the side of his phone as he exhaled. He tore his gaze away from your smiling face and stared down at the screen, eyes scanning the text he had gotten from Shigaraki, something about another dumbass mission he needed to go on with Twice, of all people. He’d rather get stuck with Toga. 

“Christ,” he muttered, putting the cigarette out in the ashtray and tucking his phone into his pocket. He glanced up at you again, only to find that you were now gazing back at him with such a lovely, oblivious expression on your beautiful face. Dabi had known how you felt about him for a while now, you were always so painfully obvious. And maybe in another life he would feel the same way. 

But this was his life, and the text on his phone felt like it weighed a hundred pounds in his pocket. His mind wandered to the last few nights you had spent together, all shared breaths and moans and tangled legs. He remembered the way you had placed those tender kisses along his shoulder. Out of sheer curiosity, he had looked up what they meant, and it only made what he was about to do that much harder. 

Dabi slid open the glass door and slipped inside the apartment again, rubbing his hands together to get rid of the cold. You looked up from whatever you were cooking in your small kitchen, a grin splitting across your face. 

“There you are,” you said cheerfully, wiping your hands on a towel as he approached you. 

“Hey doll,” he said, instinctively reaching out and tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. He pulled his hand away like it had burned him. “Something came up and I have to head out.” 

“Oh,” you said, crestfallen. “Alright. I’ll walk you out.” 

Dabi gave a goodbye gesture to Isaki, who said nothing. He shrugged and followed you out into the hallway. 

“Duty calls,” he tried to joke through the awkward silence, but joking never really suited him. 

You gave a half-hearted chuckle. “Right.” 

Dabi tucked his hands into his pockets and stared at you. “Look...there’s something we gotta talk about, doll.” 

“You don’t have to say anything else, Dabi,” you said, turning your face away from him. No, he wanted to cry out. Please don’t look away from me. 

But, “It’s for the best,” was all he could say. 

“Of course it is.” 

He chewed on the inside of his cheek and looked down at your bare feet, knowing that he would never again get the chance to run his thumb along the inside of the arch while the two of you laid together in whatever bed he had for the night. He brought his eyes back up to your face, noticing the way your jaw was clenched and your eyebrows were pulled together. 

Maybe in another life. 

“Take care of yourself,” Dabi finally said, turning to walk away. 

“You should learn to take your own advice,” you softly replied. 

He looked at you over his shoulder and smiled. “Yeah, maybe I should.” And with that, he disappeared around the corner and left behind the one thing that had brought him happiness in all his tortured years of living. 

[thegoldendice]

Love Is A Battlefield

Fandom - American Horror Story 1984

Pairing - Xavier Plympton/Reader

Rating - Explicit

Warnings - Suicide, Violence, Mental Heath Issues, Sexual Content, Language, Religious Content

Chapter - 9/12

Read on - ao3, ff.net

Fic Summary - The year is 1984. You're a poor student living alone in L.A., plagued by your problematic relationships with a false friend and a disturbed ex. You meet Xavier Plympton, an aerobics instructor with a dark past, at the gym where you’ve taken a reception job. You quickly develop feelings for him, and you learn to your relief that he likes you too. Soon a deadly series of events befall you and the people in your life. Overwhelmed by tragedy and with your blossoming romance cut short, you are left a wreck. Six years later you discover that while Xavier is dead, he hasn’t quite departed. You soon realise that if you are to be with him and finally achieve true peace and happiness, you must take your own life and become a Camp Redwood ghost.

Chapter Summary -  Ray hears of your decision to stay at Redwood and feels compelled to change your mind on spiritual grounds. 

You watch as specs of dust dance and swirl around each other within the slice of afternoon sunlight that enters through the cabin window. You feel at peace now that Xavier has come to accept your decision. He lies beside you, eyes closed but not asleep. He can't sleep in fact, however, he has been able to learn how to shut everything out, to gain an emptiness of mind that imitates slumber. It's the closest thing you will have to actual unconsciousness after your change. That is, once you have learned the technique as well. There will of course be other things to get used to, such as the loss of time. According to Xavier minutes, hours, and days will continue to pass in the outside world, but you will cease to be aware of their passing. The only change you will be aware of day-to-day is the weather, but temperature won't affect you. Should you wish to, you will be able to run around naked on a wet winter day. You will no longer feel hungry or crave nourishment of the edible kind.

You feel a little sad at the thought of the simple, human things you will lose. You try to remind yourself that you will have all the time in the world to grieve those losses, and Xavier will help you. As for personal relationships – you have none to mourn. You have a mother, but no father to speak of. Memories of a series of substitute dads ranging from lacklustre to downright maniacal arise. You will be glad to never think of any of them ever again. Your mom won't miss you. She spent the majority of the last six years attempting to have you institutionalised. You plan to write her a letter and post it when you leave the camp to get the supplies you will need to end your life. You will tell her you've gone travelling. She'll never find out what happened to you. Your brother, a self confessed waste of space, has been absent for years.

Xavier stirs at your side. You turn to look at him, taking in his dishevelled appearance. You spent the last few hours exploring each other's bodies, revelling in mutual joy and passion. You are continuing to realise how lucky you are, not only to have met someone you are so emotionally and physically compatible with but to have been given the chance to remain with them even in death. Darkness has tarnished both of your lives, casting an ever-present shadow over your existences, but because of this, you have a deep understanding of each other's personal trauma. You lean in to kiss his forehead and are rewarded with a soft, sweet smile. He keeps his eyes closed, but breathes a deep sigh of satisfaction. Breathing is the one thing Xavier hasn't been able to let go of yet. You suspect you will try to hold on to it as well, a small reminder that you were once a living thing.

You are about to close your eyes to try and drift off when a knock comes at the front door, shattering your peaceful bubble. You see and feel Xavier’s muscles tense.

“Who's there?” he calls out.

“It's Ray. I need to talk to Y/n.”

You look at Xavier, feeling suddenly confused. “Why the hell would Ray want to talk to me? I don't think he ever said a single word to me back in L.A.”

“I think I might know. Ray hates it here, he always has. He has it in his head that we're all damned. The idiot probably wants to try to convince you to leave.”

“Montana couldn't.” You shrug, highly doubting Ray's ability to change your mind.

“Sure, but she's super laid back these days. Ray probably thinks he can nag you all the way to the fucking entrance sign. Honestly, Y/n, he will try.”

With that, Xavier hauls himself out of bed. He gets dressed and tosses your clothes towards you. You loathe the thought of having to see another person in your current state. Your hair is all over the place and you seriously need a shower. You kick yourself for leaving your car parked halfway up the road to the camp, thinking about the wet wipes you keep in the glovebox. For some reason, rather than drive all the way here, you had the urge to ditch the car just off the dirt track and walk the remaining twenty minutes to that mouldering wooden sign. It had seemed like a good idea at the time - a chance to breathe some fresh air.

You hear Ray knock again, harder this time.

“We heard you, just wait!” Xavier snaps in the direction of the door, his good mood completely gone. You wonder if he's worried that Ray will actually have some kind of effect on you.

“There's nothing he could say that would convince me to change my mind.” You try your best to sound reassuring. “I know everything now, right? There are no more secrets?”

Xavier frowns as you pull your shirt over your head.

Fuck. Why is he frowning?

“There's one more thing. It's not a big deal, that's why I didn't tell you earlier.”

You breathe evenly, trying to remain calm.

“What is it?”

“Remember I told you that Ramirez is here?”

You nod warily.

“Well, he has some kind of satanic deal going on that allows him to leave. So... we all take it in turns to make sure he stays. We kill him again and again, every time he revives. That's the only thing I haven't told you.”

You sit down on the bed just as Ray bursts through the door. Xavier swings around swiftly, but you are able to catch the furious look on his face first.

“What the fuck, man!? You can't just barge in here!” He yells.

Ray takes a step back, throwing up his arms defensively. “You were taking forever!”

“I was getting dressed.” Your voice comes out expressionless. Your disappointment that Xavier has, once again, kept something important from you leaves you feeling numb.

“I'm sorry. Really sorry.” Ray looks past Xavier to find your eyes.

“It's fine. You wanted to speak to me?”

Ray casts a sheepish glance in Xavier's direction. “Uh, yeah. Alone, if possible?”

Xavier looks at you. You nod, but make sure to smile at him. Despite the fact that he has made another mistake, you don't want him to worry.

“Fine.” He sighs, his gaze boring into yours. “I won't be far away.”

With that he leaves, but you notice him make sure that the cabin door is slightly ajar. You remain seated, looking towards Ray expectantly.

“I uh, I just felt I had to come. Montana told me about your plan. I think it's a really bad idea.” Ray shifts from foot to foot, unable, now, to meet your eyes.

“Why?” You ask.

Ray hesitates, then comes to sit beside you. You cringe a little internally, you are not at all comfortable having another man so close to you in the space that you have come to associate with Xavier and sex. Especially a man you really don't know. You hope that whatever Ray has to say, it will be quick.

“Look, Y/n, this might sound stupid but I need to say it. If you kill yourself and sentence your soul to an eternity here, you'll never be able to... move on.”

You try to remain patient. “I know that Ray.”

“But you'll never get to Heaven.” Ray says, the volume of his voice rising as he grows desperate.

You are surprised. You didn't realise that Ray was the religious type. You glance at him to see him twisting the edge of the blanket around his fingers. You feel a little sorry for him. He really is trying to help you.

“Ray, I don't want this to sound harsh because I actually appreciate what you're trying to do but, I'm not religious.” You strive to sound calm but firm. ”I don't believe in an afterlife, or Heaven and Hell. I'm sorry. I know that you probably see suicide as a sin, but I just don't. Why would I chose to die years down the line and cease to exist when I could stay here? This is better than a complete void.”

Ray remains silent for several seconds, staring at the floor. You brace yourself for an outpouring of overzealous rhetoric, but it doesn't come. Instead, Ray stands, turning to face you.

“I can't make you leave, and there's nothing I can really do to stop you. I know your type.” He blurts out angrily. “I've done my part. Just know this, I won't help to bury you.”

With that Ray leaves, stony-faced. All you feel is shock as a wave of sadness builds within you. You hate confrontation, especially when you are feeling so vulnerable. Xavier re-enters the cabin seconds later to find you crying silently. You feel him sink into the mattress and wrap you in his arms, rocking you gently and making shushing sounds.

“I'm gonna kill him.” Xavier growls.

You look into his blue eyes, sniffling. “No, you're not. He just wants to save my soul.”

“I know. I was listening at the door. Self-righteous ass. Him, not you.”

You let out a choked laugh, eyes still watery. You don’t even care that Xavier fucked up again. It’s not his fault. You really can’t expect him to be as aware as a human when he’s been stuck here for so long. He must see Ramirez as completely insignificant.

“I'd really rather you just left Ray alone. This must be hard for him.” You sigh. You had no idea that your decision to end your life would cause such an issue for someone you barely even know. “He will just have to learn to live with me.”

“Okay.” Xavier wipes a final tear from your cheek with his thumb, happy to adhere to your wishes. “I suppose we have some plans to make then?”

“We do.” You smile at him. “But first you need to explain this Ramirez situation to me properly. Am I going to have to join in the killing?”

Xavier shakes his head firmly. “No, absolutely not. I want you to know that you never have to do a single thing you don't want to here.”

Your smile grows bigger as you collapse into Xavier’s hug, relieved that he is beginning to learn what your needs are.

Notes:  So I imagine that Ray wasn’t overly fussed with his religion in life which is why it’s not a thing in the show, however since his death he’s become quite preoccupied with it. Hope this fits for everyone. Also I have nothing against Ray but he just seemed to me from what we learned in the show like the type who would be most unhappy with Y/n’s plan.

[soldieronbarnes]

Hi, I... don't know if you or someone else has already write about it, but... It would be okay to have a prompt about Magnus and temporarily warlock!Alec? If they have stayed a bit longer in Edon with the alliance rune, and then Alec showing Magnus that he also has magic now (and maybe Magnus a bit uncomfortable because it was Lorenzo's magic, not his). Is it possible? (I love everything you write)

You know, this one is the reason I didn’t manage to fill many prompts during my holiday, because I thought “hey, I’ll write, like, a couple hundred words for each prompt and that will be it”. And then I spent two evening trying to get this one right aaaaand it got quite a bit longer than expected. I hope you like it.

___

“Darling, could you hand me the - “

Magnus doesn’t even get to finish the sentence before the salt shaker shoots towards him and comes to a screeching halt a few centimetres away from his face where it hovers in the air, wobbling back and forth like an overexcited dog wagging its tail so hard it makes its entire body move. Magnus blinks at it, perplexed, before his expression morphs into something carefully neutral that still manages to look somewhat pinched.

“Sorry,” Alec says sheepishly. 

“No need to apologise.” Magnus’ tone is deceptively breezy, which is how Alec knows just how bothered his husband truly is. “I don’t think I’ve ever been passed the salt this quickly, unless, of course, I summoned it myself.”

Yikes. Alec flinches a little. “You know I can’t control it.” It comes out more defensive than he intended, and much more defeated as well.

Since their return from Edom, his - Lorenzo’s - magic has popped up during unexpected moments, without rhyme or reason. No one can really explain why it keeps happening; Magnus suspects it’s a certain overreaching magical residue that their stint with the alliance rune left behind, and by all reason, it should have been used up by now. None of the others seem to have had problems with their partners’ powers manifesting after they left the collapsing dimension of hell. Alec wishes that Clary’s connection to Simon could lead her back to the Shadow World, or that Jace still had moments in which he couldn’t lie – that, at least, would simply make for funny moments instead of occasionally embarrassing or even dangerous ones. 

The problem, Alec thinks dourly, is less the spontaneous bouts of magic he can now perform but rather his lack of control. There’s a certain manic energy to it when it bubbles up under his skin, announcing itself in a hot rush rising to the surface, but always far too late for him to try and center himself and keep his emotions in check, pushing it down.

The first time it happened is actually quite funny, in retrospect. They’d left for their honeymoon, portalled from the Institute to the loft to grab their bags, and when Magnus had bent over to pick up the suitcases, all Alec could do was stare at the delicious swell of his ass in his expertly tailored trousers and think: God, I can’t wait to get him naked. A second later, Magnus had been, and Alec had honestly thought Magnus was a mind-reader - or maybe just as desperately horny as Alec was after being subjected to the glorious sight of his husband in a tux for hours without being able to do anything about it - and told Magnus as much, until he saw the panicked look in his eyes when he said “I didn’t do this.”

That thoroughly ruined the mood for a while, until Magnus had checked him over three times and established that it wasn’t hurting Alec and also very likely not permanent. 

Two weeks later, and the magic still hasn’t subsided much. It’s not a constant presence, so Alec can’t claim to be a warlock, or even warlock-adjacent, really, but at this point, the only good thing about it is knowing how fucking eager it is to please Magnus, like it’s a manifestation of Alec’s soul, his innermost wishes. So far, he’s accidentally dyed some of Magnus’ shirts when he complained about the colour being just a little bit off to match his waistcoats, nearly slammed a book Magnus had considered reading into his face, dumped a rather sizeable number of drinks in front of Magnus (or on him - it’s not like he can aim) and made an entire orchard worth of almond trees bloom when Magnus lamented that he hadn’t been able to bring Alec for their season. On one particularly memorable occasion, he had made the bed float two feet above the ground as Magnus fucked all conscious thought out of him. Thankfully, Magnus had ignored it while it was happening, and only teased him about it a little afterwards. It also marks the only time Magnus had reacted with something other than a startled expression that soon turned a little sour, and probably only because he had been particularly smug about the demonstration of his sexual prowess. 

Alec hates the strange tension that arises whenever the magic decides to show its face. They’re supposed to be in the honeymoon phase of their marriage, goddamnit, not dealing with – whatever this is. 

“I know, darling. It’s fine,” Magnus assures him, plucking the salt shaker out of the air and seasoning his eggs. He studiously avoids Alec gaze as he’s doing it.

“Okay, what?” Alec asks, more brusquely than Magnus deserves. 

Magnus blinks at him. “Pardon?”

“Look, I get that this - “ he wiggles his fingers around like Magnus usually does when he’s performing magic and ignores the slightly alarmed look on his husband’s face, “- is super annoying, because I can’t seem to get a grip on it, but you have to stop looking at me like that when it happens.”

“Like what?”

“Like…” Alec bites his lips, searching for the right word. “Disapproving.”

“I don’t look at you like that,” Magnus protests.

“Yes, you do, Magnus. So what is really bothering you? What’s so bad about me having magic?”

Magnus hesitates.

“You promised not to lie to me,” Alec reminds him, and it’s pettier than it should be, to throw their weddings vows back in Magnus’ face like that. They aren’t even fighting, really, and God, Alec is an asshole. 

Magnus just sighs. “You’re right,” he concedes, before Alec can start to apologise. “It’s just…it’s kind of stupid.”

He looks kind of shifty. Alec has seen that expression on his face only once before, when they were sitting in Alec’s office after Magnus had moved into the Institute.

Oh. Oh. 

The penny drops.

“Are you jealous?” Alec asks, somewhat flabbergasted, because it makes even less sense this time around than when Magnus thought Underhill was any sort of competition. 

Magnus makes a wounded noise. “I wouldn’t quite call it that this time.”

“This time?” Alec repeats a teasing smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “So we’re finally admitting that it was jealousy last time?”

Magnus throws him a half-hearted glare but doesn’t otherwise react. So it’s serious, then. Alec reaches out, tangled their fingers together and squeezes gently. “Explain it to me,” he says. “Please.”

“It doesn’t bother me that you have magic,” Magnus says after a long moment. “But it bothers me that the magic you are wielding is Lorenzo’s magic.”

“Why?” Alec asks. For the most part, Lorenzo and Magnus seem to have buried their hatched and jumped straight into an odd friendship that will certainly consist of still constantly trying to annoy and one-up each other, just, well, fondly instead of angrily. 

“I just -” Magnus stops, sighs. “I know it’s – childish, and sort of selfish, but I had thought, with how close we are, that if you ever got a taste of magic, if you ever got to wield some yourself…I wanted it to be mine.”

Alec stills. “Oh.”

 “I never believed it would be possible, of course, and when it turned out that it was, I wanted so badly to share this part of me with you. Because I want you to see, to –”

“Understand,” Alec finishes. “I get it.”

He does. All his desperate attempts aside, he never truly could understand what it means for Magnus to lose his powers. He probably would never have understood Magnus completely, but to wield his powers, to get to experience the very essence of him so intimately – he knows he would have cherished it immeasurably, and mourned its loss once it was gone. 

Magnus smiles, a little brittle. “And now it will never happen.”

“You don’t know that,” Alec argues. “We still have the alliance rune, and we might still need it one day. I mean, I hope not, but…”

“Clary lost her runes over this,” Magnus reminds him quietly. “I don’t think I should like to risk it.”

He’s right, of course. The angels had made it very clear that they hadn’t approved of the new runes Clary had created, and her last, most powerful ones especially. Her punishment was a clear warning not to meddle with the status quo again or suffer the consequences. 

Alec grips Magnus’ hand a little tighter. The loss of possibility stings, now that he has been made aware of it. “I’m sorry,” he says. “For what it’s worth, I really wanted it to be you.”

“There’s no use crying over spilt milk,” Magnus says, shrugging. “And I do mean it, you don’t have anything to apologise for. I shouldn’t have taken it out on you.”

“Yeah, maybe. But it hurt you every time you had to see it, and I didn’t realise.” He hesitates. “Could you…take it away?”

“Why would you want that?” Magnus asks, surprised. “It’ll go away on its own.”

“It may go away on its own,” Alec corrects. “We don’t know for sure. And I could handle it, but if I end up hurting you - even accidentally - all the time, then I don’t want to.”

Magnus sits back, looking a little overwhelmed, like it still astonishes him, the length to which Alec will go to try and make him happy. “I - I could try. If you’re sure.”

“I’m sure,” Alec says firmly. 

“I - alright.” Magnus grabs both of his hands gently, turns them around. “Close your eyes, darling, and try to concentrate on finding the source of the magic in you. Push it to the surface, if you can, it should make this much quicker and easier.”

Alec tries. He’s never been good at meditating or quieting his mind, but as he probes around, thinking where are you, please, please, he suddenly feels a spark of it, perking up at his call. I’m sorry, he thinks, feeling vaguely remorseful as he gathers it up and tries to nudge it outward, I have to let you go now.

It pulses once, warming him from inside out, as if to say goodbye, and then it’s gone. Magnus gasps a little, and when Alec opens his eyes, he sees the tendrils float up towards the ceiling and dissolve into sparkling flower petals that sink to the floor slowly before disappearing entirely, much like the ones Magnus threw into the air at their wedding.

“That was very pretty,” Magnus says. “If a tad overdramatic.”

“Made you smile,” Alec shrugs, and pulls him in for a kiss.

[hellas-himself]

Where There Are Shadows Pt 29

My wifi has been absolute shit. So I have been writing tons just in case I can’t get online through the laptop. 

If you haven’t read ACOFAS. This is spoilery. I know I say that every time but in the event someone new sees this in passing, I don’t wanna ruin it for you. 

Happy Friday yall. 

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-Feyre-

 Azriel, Cassian and Rhys stood over a table, looking at a map. Cassian, of the three, seemed the most upset. But I didn’t blame him. I couldn’t. Rhys and Az had failed to mention the problems arising in the Illyrian camps. I understood why they’d done it. Especially since they were mere rumors, mostly, but rumors had caused my family so much pain… 

I cleared my throat as I stepped into the room. The three of them looked up, immediately their features softened. It made me blush.

“We got a letter.” I held up the envelope in my hand. Rhysand’s eyes widened before he broke into a grin. Azriel offered me a small smile before he pulled Cas away.

“Let’s go see what the fox had sent to our doors,” he said and Cas was all too glad to go.

I went right up to Rhys and sat down on his lap. I was as giddy as a child on Solstice, carefully opening the envelope. It had gold wax with the Day Court seal.

“He’s learning,” Rhys said with a smile. Lucien had been using his emissary’s seal- a dark green wax stam

ped with his initials.

Rhys and Feyre, I miss you both terribly.

I know that it has only been three weeks, but it feels like an eternity.

Feyre- I’ve been wearing the nightclothes you sent every night since. Beware, Helion wants the same pair but in white. Everyone has sung praises of your art, love. Helion has had your painting of his palace hung up in his office.

Grandmother reminds me of Amren, I suppose, for her appreciation of fine jewelry. You did very well, Rhysand. My aunt is just dying to meet you both. She reminds me of Morrigan, which is a welcoming comfort- seeing her in Night Court fashion was… well, let us say that she made quite the impression on some lords last night. I hear talk of marriage proposals. She would eviscerate them all.

Rhys, you absolute prick- my grandmother was there when I received your gifts. Thank the gods that the others were so enthralled with theirs they did not ask what else was in the box. And I am sure you are laughing as you read this. Tell Feyre to kick your ass for me. I’d winnow over to do it myself but then I know I’d never leave.  

I’ve held court with Helion a few times now. It reminds me of home in a way. He treats everyone as if they were his family. Everyone says we look alike, especially now that I dress the way he does- sometimes. It is strange, but perhaps the closest thing to comfort than being completely bare. And do not ask me to wear it at home. I won’t have Rhys pouncing on me every second, although Feyre- you are no better. Gods, I miss you both.

We’ve gone hiking together, even my mother joined us. I’ve never seen her in pants before. Do not be surprised if she asks to go on a “hunt” with you, Feyre. She’s taken up archery. I don’t know where she finds the time. When you’re here, we’ll go together- to the mountains. There are things I can’t even begin to describe without butchering them. I am fairly certain Feyre, my love, that you will find countless things to sketch and paint here. If Helion asks for a portrait, please deny him. He is as preposterous as Rhys.

But I miss you. I still find it hard to sleep alone without you both. However, I will not have either of you sad nor considering leaving behind your duties. The formal court nonsense will be in Azriel’s hands shortly, news of the Mortal Lands- which is nothing new. Jurian is cross with me, but that is not important. Vassa is happy for me -us- surprised, but happy.

Helion and I are going to the villa in a few days. It will be raining in the mountains and he plans on witnessing it firsthand. My mother is excited. She believes he and I will get a chance to get to know one another better.

There will be guards there. Some wild beast he apparently raised since birth. We’ll be safe. I will not be able to write until I return. The rains will make the way dangerous. Please try to write before I go.

I miss you.

Lucien

I read it again, practically hearing his voice as I did. I knew when he was laughing. When he was rolling his eyes. And the paper, it smelled like him, a detail that Rhys did not miss. He smiled, taking the letter from me and reading it quietly to himself once more.

“I never thought I’d miss that bastard as much as I do,” Rhys said as he folded the letter and neatly returned it to the envelope. We’d add it to the other two letters we kept at home.

I smiled, wrapping my arms around his neck.

“I never thought that I would see you missing him as much as you do. I’m usually the one pining over him.”

“I do not pine.”

“You wrote him a poem, Rhysand.”

He feigned insult. “What of it? He liked it.”

“I know. It’s utterly romantic.”

Rhys sighed, leaning into me.

“Can we just go? Right now?”

“Did you finish whatever it was you three were discussing?”

He groaned. “No.”

“Then no, we can’t. Lucien would feel horrible about it. Besides, I promised Elain I’d help her with the garden at the townhouse.”

“You? Gardening?”

It was my turn to be insulted.

“I can garden!”

“My love, you let the flowers wilt. Lucien sent us beautiful flowers and they died under your care.”

“I didn’t know I wasn’t supposed to water them every day.”

“He put it in a note.”

“That I found after they died… at least you revived them. If you told him, Rhys, I swear I won’t kiss you for a week.”

“A week?”

Cassian and Az walked into the room just as Rhys had begun to pepper kisses across my neck. They were going to leave but I stopped them.

“I was just going.”

Rhys was whining as I left his side. I ignored him, going to greet my two favorite Illyrians before leaving.

“He’ll be useless now,” Az teased, giving me a hug.

“With enough talk about the camps, he’ll simmer down,” Cas added before he pressed a kiss to my cheek.

“You both can fuck off,” Rhys said, slouching in his chair.

“Little Rhysie misses his foxy boy,” Cas said in a terribly teasing tone, and I saw Rhys cross his arms. That was my cue to leave.

I had just closed the door when I heard Cassian groan, cursing Rhys and his ‘stupid high lord powers’.

*

It was surprising to see Elain in a dress as thin and revealing as the one she wore now. It was blush pink, the sleeves shorter than anything she’d ever worn before. The fabric was long enough to hide the fact that she was bare foot, but it was so thin that her curves were visible. And the neckline… Mor would steal it from her.

“It’s so hot today,” she said as I approached, wiping a hand across her brow. I sat beside her and noticed how she tried to pull the dress up a bit more.

I was dressed in the usual Night Court fashion, except my top had no sleeves. She eyed my outfit with a bit of… regret?

“Mor loaned me this. All of my gowns are too… They’re meant for colder weather.”

I giggled, that explained it. “It looks lovely on you.”

She blushed. “It’s so comfortable. But this neckline…”

“Is just fine.”

She gave me a grateful smile and in a very conspiratorial voice she said, “I might keep it.”

“You should.”

We shared a laugh, Elain pulling me towards her. Beneath the shade of the tree she and I lay back onto the grass.

“You aren’t offended that I didn’t really mean for you to help with the garden?”

“Not at all. I’d just ruin all the work you and Az have done.”

She let out a sigh.

“May I ask you something personal?”

“Sure.”

“After… Tamlin, how did you know you were ready to move on?”

She said his name carefully, as if it were a curse she was afraid to speak. But it didn’t make me feel anything. No knife to the heart. Only a curiosity as to why my sister was asking.

“I felt guilty at first. As if by flirting with Rhys I was betraying what we’d had. Except that it was Tamlin who betrayed that. And Rhys… he was always too good to me. Even when I was horrible. I hurt him so many times in the beginning… But he never let that stop him from being my friend.”

Elain considered my words for a time.

“When did you know that you cared for him?”

“I think Under the Mountain. I didn’t want to believe it. But I cared for this stranger who told me secrets and helped me when no one else did.”

“I mean, when you realized it was more?”

I sat up then, bringing my knees to my chest. Elain followed suit, and began to twirl blades of grass between her fingers.

“Starfall. The first time we spent it together. I knew I had been attracted to him. I knew that I wanted him… you know.”

Elain blushed but nodded.

“I had my doubts… But Rhys loved me, even as broken as I was… Still am. How could I not fall in love with him? Even if he had not been my mate, Rhys is just-” I found myself blushing.

Thinking about me, darling?

Fuck off.

His laughter made me smile.

“Can I tell you something?”

“Of course.”

“You and Nesta, you are my sisters. I’ve come to love Cassian and the twins, even Amren. Even Rhys. But it’s… different with Azriel. He’s the first real friend I’ve ever had. He sees me, Feyre.”

“I know,” I said softly.

“Grayson…” She paused. “I was no better than a porcelain doll. Like the ones mother kept in her tea room. I was everything a lady should be. But that person died inside the cauldron. I was someone else when I came out of it. And when Grayson finally saw me without the pretty lady’s mask… He hated me.”

“That’s how it was with Tamlin.”

There was a look of relief on her face. Because I understood.

“Azriel understands me. Even the parts of me I still don’t really understand. But our shadows know each other. And it makes sense.”

I raised a brow at that.

“He could probably explain it better… But you know how he can just step out of a shadow?”

I nodded.

“Well. It’s happened. Accidently. Except once, that was on purpose but it was only because he was being so stubborn-”

She stopped, as if remembering herself. I tried not to laugh.

“He and I have many wounds that need to heal… But sometimes… I catch myself staring too long. Or when he walks me to my room, our hugs are a little too long. And on Starfall… Being so close to him the whole night was better than anything.”

I reached out to hold her hand.

“Nothing could make me happier.”

She lowered her voice. “You don’t think it’s wrong?”

“No. You deserve happiness. If it’s Azriel that is helping you find it, I know you both are in good hands.”

She smiled. But then Elain looked up and I turned to find Nuala at the door. She held a stack of envelopes in her hands.

“My Lady, forgive me for interrupting.”

“It’s alright,” I said, giving Elain’s hand a squeeze before I stood up.

Nuala let me take them from her and I felt everything spin.

“Feyre, what’s wrong?” Elain asked. She had come to stand beside me.

“Nesta.”

I sat at my desk, staring at the stack of envelopes in front of me. And at their side, Nesta’s bills, rather- the debt she’d accumulated in my name. I let out a long sigh, reaching for the iced tea that had long since become lukewarm. I drank some of it with a grimace, setting the cup aside. I brought my fingers to my temples and groaned. Why was this happening?

Every letter Elain had sent Nesta had been unopened and returned. Letters written before Solstice. How could Nesta do this to Elain? Our sister was more herself than ever before, without the mating bond, without Graysen’s shadow lingering over her every thought- Elain was happy.

And then her bills. The rent on that poor excuse of a home never changed. But what concerned me the most was the final bill for the food delivered to her home every week. Dated from a month ago. I had almost asked what the hell she was eating but then I saw my name on several tabs from restaurants and bars all over Velaris. Some I had never even been to. But now I knew why there had been such discretion in bringing these to me. I would send each of these patrons a gift in thanks, and in apology, in addition to what they were owed.

Elain was leaning against the wall, drying her eyes with one of Rhysand’s handkerchiefs.

“What did I do?” Elain asked.

“You didn’t do anything, Elain. Nesta is… I don’t really know what is wrong with her. She won’t let us in. And this,” I said, motioning to the letters, “This is just cruel.”

“Do you think I’ve offended her?”

“Offended who?”

I tensed as Cassian walked into my room. Elain looked at him and without a word, he quickly went to her side and held her in his arms. He looked at me, wanting answers. I raised a hand, asking for a moment.

My love, do you know where Az is?

Why? Feeling lonely? I could hear the smile in his voice.

I sighed. Elain is very upset and I need to talk to Cassian. Alone.

Soon enough, I turned in my chair to find the Shadowsinger casually waltzing into the room and Elain did her best to perk up, making Cassian feign insult.

“I was wondering where everyone was,” Azriel said. Cassian and I noticed the way his eyes widened slightly at the sight of Elain in that dress.  

“How nice of you to join us,” Cas replied.

Azriel’s hand brushed my shoulder as he went to greet Cassian and Elain.

“Actually, I’m only here for Elain.”

She blushed. Cassian looked even more offended, especially when Elain handed him the handkerchief. He tossed it on my desk and I tried not to laugh.

“The builders at the new house are working on the greenhouse for Lucien’s Day Court flowers and wanted her input on some of the details.”

She cleared her throat. “Of course.”

After giving Cassian a hug, she came to me and kissed my cheek.

“I know you’re behind this,” she whispered, “But thank you.”

Az gave me a wink before he followed Elain out.

“So what’s going on?”

Cassian crossed his arms.

“Where do I start?”

He eyed my severely cluttered desk. “Start with the envelopes. What’s all this mess?”

“Nesta had every letter Elain’s written to her returned. Unopened. Since before Solstice.”

He said nothing but I saw the look in his eyes. I noticed how his jaw clenched.

“Elain had hoped they were replies… But once she realized what it was… Well, she’d only just calmed down when you showed up.”

I reached for the bills.

“She’s canceled the food deliveries. Putting shit on our tab, in my name. And I can afford it. I don’t mind paying for anything she needs or wants but fuck, Cassian. Why does it have to be like this? We have all tried to give her work. Give her our time and attention… Every time we try to figure a way to be there for her, she shuts us out.”

Maybe venting to Cassian was unwise, considering what he felt for her. What they’d been through together. But maybe he needed to know this. He got to her in ways none of us ever could.

“I’m sorry, Cas. I shouldn’t have-”

“It’s fine, Feyre.”

He held out a hand and I handed the bills over to him. I watched as he looked through them, but there was no surprise there. If anything, those pages seemed to confirm something he had suspected or already known. He rolled his eyes at one point but continued. I knew he followed her home most nights, making sure she was alright. Cassian asked for a pen and I handed it over. He set them down on the desk and leaned over, placing a small mark near some things. He set the pen aside and looked over what he’d done.

“I’m going up to the camps.”

“Is everything okay?”

He sighed. “Just those fucking rumors. Hoping to squash them before it becomes something bigger.”

“Should I be worried?”

“No. We have it under control.”

I raised a brow.

“If it becomes something worth worrying over, I will tell you myself.”

“Okay.” I got to my feet and went to hug him, longer than usual. “I love you, Cas.”

He kissed the top of my head.

“If I’m late, save me dessert.”

I rolled my eyes as he kissed my nose. When he was out the door, I went to put the bills away. Curiosity got the best of me, so I looked at what Cassian had marked. It took me a moment to understand what he had seen so quickly, but when I did, my heart sank.

Every night that he had been with us, that he had not followed her home, Nesta had gone to the shittiest tavern in Velaris and put nothing but liquor on the tab.

*

I found Cassian on the roof, and with a curse, I pulled myself over. He eyed me as I made my way to sit beside him. His wing came to wrap around me, making me sit that much closer.

“You’re an asshole,” I said.

“You’re out of shape.”

I glared at him and he laughed.

“I saved you dessert.”

He shrugged. “I just needed air.”

I took his hand in mine and began to trace over the scars and callouses. He had been quiet- well, quiet for him, during dinner. He hadn’t even teased Azriel for how he tried not looking at Elain when she leaned over to talk to him. He had excused himself before dessert had even been served. And I had specifically asked for those cherry tarts he loved so much and he hadn’t even waited.

“I have a question,” I said, turning his hand palm up.

“Are you a witch now?”

“Shut up.” I smiled, tracing over the lines and noticed more scars, as if he’d held a blade with his bare hands. And knowing him, he probably had.

“Alright. Ask away.”

“She’s my sister… But you’re my friend. My family, too.”

“That’s not exactly a question. I believe it requires a little bit of doubt.”

I rolled my eyes, making him smirk.

“I need you to know that you tried more than any of us. More than I did.”

He tensed. But his voice was soft.

“You owe her nothing, Feyre. She already knows how I feel about the way she’s treated you.”

“And what about how she treats you, Cas?”

“I can handle it.” His voice was a little stronger now, as if nothing else would sway him.

“You shouldn’t have to handle it. I love her, I want to help her. But dammit, Cas. Nothing about the way she treats you is right.”

“I don’t deserve more than that.”

There were a million things I wanted to say. I wanted to shake him. I wanted to scream at him that he did deserve more. That I loved him, that Rhys and Az and Mor loved him. Even Amren, though she’d deny it. Cassian was one of the most selfless people I’d ever known. I wanted him to be happy. I wanted him to see what we saw when we looked at him. But I knew that words could only do so much, especially if my sister had used her words like a knife.

“Can I ask you something?”

“You did.”

I quickly passed two fingers over the membrane of his wing and he flinched. I couldn’t even describe the sound that he made, but it made me laugh.  

“You can’t do shit like that! Rhys will kill me!”

“Don’t be a smart ass then.”

“Ask,” he said, avoiding my eyes. I wouldn’t tell him that I saw him blush.

“Is it true that you’d have married me if Rhys hadn’t?”

“Now where did you hear such a thing?” I heard the playful tone in his voice.

“Oddly enough, from Rhys.”

Cassian chuckled. “I may or may not have said that, after several drinks.”

“I may or may not have considered the idea, after several drinks.”

He looked at me then, surprised. Confused.

“Remember what you said to me? You and I have the same soul.”

“I know.”

I smirked. “So would you tell me that I didn’t deserve better? Even if better did not mean your brother?”

He smiled because I’d gotten him.

“You’re a piece of work.”

“I’m living with a bunch of assholes. It rubs off on you.”

Cassian started tickling me until I was laughing so hard I was almost crying.

“What the hell are you two doing up there?”

Cas and I looked down to see Mor standing with her hands on her hips.

“Feyre was trying to get in my pants!”

“Feyre what?”

Now Rhys was outside and I laughed so hard I nearly slipped from the roof. Cassian gripped me by the waist, keeping me steady.

“I said Feyre was going to help me pick out a pair of pants.”

Rhys rolled his eyes and went to sit with Mor on the bench, the two of them chatting as if Cas and I weren’t on the roof, watching them.

“Bastard,” Cassian muttered.

“Want to go get dessert?”

He nodded, but before I could move, he held me there against him.

“Feyre… I would never tell you that. I would beat Rhys’ ass if he ever talked down to you.”

“I know.”

“But… I didn’t try hard enough for her. I should have. And I didn’t.”

His hazel eyes searched mine and I reached out to touch his face.

“We’ll figure it out. Together.”

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Holy shit I did not realize that this was as long as it was until now. I am sorry. Sort of. 

@readingismycopingmechanism @fuzdog @gently-say-aha @highladyofherondale @alxanxah @nuggets-and-mouthwash @city-of-fae @myfeyrelady @rhysandshighlady @feysanddotacotar

If you’d like to be tagged, let me know!

[blackshowtime]

Dreams Made of Milkshakes (18/?)

Words: 4,342

Summary: Turning point.

As Kuroko continues to study for the rest of the day, his mind keeps on straying back towards the message Akashi had sent him. Every fiber of Kuroko’s being wants to deny any truth in that message. Akashi’s claim has to be false, because it’s too ridiculous.

He knows better, though. He should trust Akashi’s words, since he’s not the type to be pulling Kuroko’s leg like this. Although, he does wish that Akashi were just joking. Even now, hours after reading that message, he has a hard time wrapping his head around it.

From the most enjoyable moments to the most nerve-wracking, Mayuzumi has been with him through every dream. And because Mayuzumi had kept it from him, it might mean that Mayuzumi had intentionally trapped him in these dreams. It might mean that Mayuzumi had wanted to put him through dangerous situations. It might mean that Mayuzumi had wanted to keep him asleep for a week, maybe even longer.

He doesn’t want to believe any of those reasons, but he can’t help it. He can hardly even say he knows Mayuzumi.

He focuses on the words in his textbook, getting more distracted the more he thinks about any ill will behind Mayuzumi’s actions. He somewhat convinces himself that none of the reasons could possibly be true. He flips the textbook closed.

After studying his morning and afternoon away, Kuroko finds himself losing steam. He’s memorized too much about science and math and now he’s itching for a break.

Stretching in his seat, he contemplates falling asleep now and confronting Mayuzumi as soon as he can. He’s both somewhat fearful and somewhat determined to hear the truth from the other, to confirm everything once and for all. Still, falling asleep now would do him no good. Not only would he not meet Mayuzumi, but he’d ruin his sleep schedule.

He squeezes his eyes shut as he yawns. No good, he’ll fall asleep at this rate. He’s got to get his blood flowing.

Exiting his room, he tells his parents he’ll be back soon as he grabs his jacket and basketball before heading out the door.

--

Akashi was already gone when Mayuzumi managed to wake up at some ungodly hour in the morning. His head is throbbing, and he can feel a huge bruise on his forehead forming. There’s no trace of other, and neither his stuff.

He’s half convinced that Akashi had only carried that suitcase for show, and hadn’t actually filled it with any of his belongings. It takes him a moment to reorient himself and ignore the pounding in his head.

The spare key has been left on the coffee table, and the slippers placed back into their proper spot.

Mayuzumi takes a deep breath, placating himself after how angry last night made him.

Let me keep an eye on you, my ass, he thinks. Akashi fucking tricked him. He had planned this sequence of events from the beginning. And now that Mayuzumi thinks about it, Kuroko was probably also planted in his dream last night. After all, Akashi disappeared with Kuroko in hand, so it’s highly unlikely that Kuroko was the real Kuroko.

He stares down the spare key on his coffee table, feeling his temper rise by the second. Fuck Akashi. He snatches the key up, gripping it in his fist tightly while suppressing the urge to chuck it across his entire apartment in anger. Instead, he returns the key back into the drawer of his bedroom, staring at the imprints left from the key on his hand.

He wonders if Akashi will tell Kuroko, and if the brat will do something about it.

He shakes his head, nearly scoffing at himself before immediately regretting it with how dizzy the movement makes him.

Of course Akashi will tell. He’s seen how shitty Mayuzumi treats Kuroko, so why wouldn’t he? It’d be too stupid of a move not to tell.

Of fucking course Akashi had to be meddlesome. Just right when Mayuzumi thought that he could ignore the brat and let the dreams die, Akashi had to shove his nose right into it, throwing everything into disarray. Now the brat is going to want answers, one way or another. He’s persistent enough normally; Mayuzumi doesn’t need him hounding his ass in real life too.

Akashi had better keep his goddamn word, otherwise Mayuzumi will need to deal with two nuisances rather than none.

Mayuzumi had better not see Kuroko tonight.

He collapses onto his bed, holding his head in pain while trying to remember if he has any pain medication stashed somewhere in his apartment.

--

It’s right around Kuroko’s bedtime, and he’s got school to attend tomorrow. Despite his earlier determination, he’s not so adamant now about confronting Mayuzumi tonight. After turning it over in his head while shooting some hoops, he’s nearly become sick with apprehension. He’s staring at the bottle of sleeping pills, ready to uncap it and pop one into his mouth. One more night of avoiding dreams wouldn’t hurt, right? It’s clear to him that he’s emotionally unstable right now, and for good reason. He hasn’t felt unnerved like this for a long time, where he needs to reassure himself just to move forward and resolve problems.

He breathes in deeply, putting the bottle back into the cabinet and shutting the door so that he can’t chicken out.

Getting ready for bed, he attempts to quell his nerves by focusing on his breathing. He won’t be able to even fall asleep if he can’t calm down, but his hands won’t stop trembling.

It’s no big deal. He has pretty much done this every day for the past few weeks. It’s just Mayuzumi.

He lies down in bed, clenching his hands over the blanket as he tries to breathe evenly.

It takes him awhile to completely calm down, but eventually he finds himself opening his eyes to a clear view of the blue sky atop what appears to be a school rooftop.

His eyes land on the familiar figure of Mayuzumi in the distance towards the railings of the rooftop, facing away from him. He is sure that this is meant to be Rakuzan’s rooftop.

Putting one foot forward, Kuroko halts in place upon seeing that Mayuzumi hasn’t noticed him. He finds himself getting cold feet before he even begins, eyes straying down towards the ground. He spends too long stuck in place like that, doubting his will and decision. He can feel his earlier anxiety arise, locking him in place. Why is he so nervous about clearing this up? It’s not like he’s under the real threat of injury here. Forcing himself out of his wavering confidence, he swallows thickly and directs his gaze towards the other. It takes much too long to tell himself that he can do this, as told by the sweat he feels on his hands when he unclenches them.

He approaches calmly, gathering up courage with each step. Beginning to feel more confident, he calls out the other’s name.

“Mayuzumi-san.”

It comes out weaker than intended, but he doesn’t back down.

Mayuzumi turns to face him, using his back to lean against the railing while regarding Kuroko with an indecipherable look.

Looking at Mayuzumi with a renewed sense of the situation seems to be backfiring for Kuroko right now. He feels like he’s reading too much into Mayuzumi’s expression, and yet at the same time he feels like he can’t discern anything.

Kuroko gulps, finding himself at a loss for words. Everything up until now, every last event, every moment they’ve spent…

Sweat accumulates on Kuroko’s temple. He does not like the way that Mayuzumi stares him down. Or maybe he’s so nervous that he’s misinterpreting the other’s expression.

Mayuzumi regards Kuroko carefully, scrutinizing his every move while trying to school his expression into something lackadaisical.

Kuroko’s usually blank demeanor exudes nervousness now. And that says all that Mayuzumi needs to know.

He’ll start it off by playing it safe.

“I thought you weren’t coming back here.”

It takes Kuroko a moment amidst his agitated state to even begin to comprehend the other, and yet he only feels more lost with the question. Somehow, he manages to not stumble over his words. “What do you mean?”

“Akashi had told me you weren’t, and he usually keeps his word.” Mayuzumi shakes his head, already finding this situation cumbersome and unnecessary. Akashi was supposed to prevent the brat from coming back. He was looking forward to finally never seeing Kuroko again, but apparently Akashi can’t do his job right.

Kuroko just stares, completely bewildered. “I have no idea what you mean.” He thinks about what Mayuzumi revealed, and all Kuroko can pull out from it is that Akashi confronted Mayuzumi, thus leading to Akashi uncovering the truth.

Mayuzumi lets some of the anger from being deceived trickle into his voice, “You know what you’re here for. Get to the point.”

Kuroko nearly flinches, but his rigid form keeps him locked still. Akashi may have uncovered the truth, but it seems that Mayuzumi also knows that he did so.

Kuroko reminds himself that all he seeks are answers. He needs to do this. It’s now or never.

“You know that I know now...about all those dreams that I had—we had,” he trails off after correcting himself, having not prepared his words too well, “did we really experience the same dreams?” He needs to hear it from Mayuzumi himself.

Mayuzumi stares, looking like he couldn't be more bored out of his mind. After a few moments of just staring straight at Kuroko, he settles with, “Yeah.”

The moment he says that, his temple throbs painfully. His jaw tightens in a vain attempt to ease it. He had thought the medication was working, but apparently his dreams just won’t give him a break.

“How—how long exactly have you known?” There has to be a mistake, because Kuroko shouldn’t feel this double-crossed. He’s already had time to digest it. He doesn’t know why he can’t accept it. He had thought that hearing it from Mayuzumi himself would have left him with some finality, but his gut only wrenches more. Mayuzumi can’t possibly—can’t be—the real thing. It’s unthinkable. It’s beyond impossible. Kuroko knows that this has to just be a nightmare, and nothing more.

Mayuzumi continues to look uncaring. He stares at Kuroko, but almost appears to be staring straight through him. He stands there like that for another solid minute, setting Kuroko on edge.

“Why did you keep this from me?” Kuroko prompts further. Normally he can be patient enough and wait as he receives an answer, but it’s almost tortuous for him now.

Mayuzumi’s poker face betrays nothing, and it seems that he can keep this up as long as Kuroko persists.

Kuroko’s confidence falters as the silence continues, suffocating the both of them. Mayuzumi continues to refuse to say anything. Both stand motionless, one waiting for something to occur, the other waiting it out. Kuroko just wants Mayuzumi to make a move, and yet the other continues to endure the heavy silence. An unstoppable force versus an immovable object, caught in a stalemate.

Kuroko can’t recall the last time he’s been this anxious for a reply.

Finally, the other speaks.

“None of that matters,” Mayuzumi dodges the issue, the throbbing in his head now dull and only uncomfortable at most. He turns his head away, seemingly to show how uncaring he is.

Kuroko’s mouth presses into a thin line, trying to stifle the turmoil of feelings that threaten to leak out. His earlier pessimism about Mayuzumi’s behavior resurfaces for the briefest of moments.

This is far from okay. The way Mayuzumi replied to him, it confirms everything. Kuroko feels an indescribable amount of betrayal, anguish, and bitterness all jumbled together, but all he can manage is a weak glare. He wants to say more, no—demand more. Why doesn’t the other answer? How had this happen? Did Mayuzumi plan this all along? Why didn’t Kuroko realize this sooner? Why did everything end up like this? Why, why, why—

He feels trapped, despite being the one trying to trap Mayuzumi.

Kuroko trembles. He inhales, trying to regain his lost ambition. He’d call it a success, but not with the way he grows aggravated.

“What does matter,” Mayuzumi pushes himself off the railing to stand straighter, “is that I would’ve gotten away with lying, had Akashi not revealed it.” His temper rises upon thinking back to Akashi, but he continues to reassure himself that he has this under control. “You weren’t supposed to find out, but it’s whatever.”

So Mayuzumi had never planned to reveal it to Kuroko. And what? Would he have just continued with the lie for forever? “Why then, why didn’t you want me to find out? Was it just so—” he cuts himself off, knowing that he’s getting too swept up in his emotions. Was it so that you could continue laughing at my ignorance?

“Because it would’ve resulted in this.” Mayuzumi gestures with his chin towards Kuroko.

Kuroko doesn’t appear to understand, his confused expression edging more towards a fierce glare each passing second. It’s getting harder to be patient. “What?”

“You. Demanding answers. You. Bothering me and being a persistent little shit. It’s more trouble than it’s worth,” Mayuzumi just about hisses out that last part, his bitter resentment for both the situation and Kuroko rising sharply like a rubber band snapping into place. “You’re more trouble than it’s worth.”

There’s nothing new about Mayuzumi’s opinion about Kuroko, but his words still feel too much like getting splashed with ice water. For as long as Kuroko can remember, he’s always been able to brush off insults directed towards himself like nothing. He can’t remember the last time he’s taken personal offense to being insulted this easily, and if he weren’t so already fed up with the other, he might’ve been able to step away and tell himself that he could be the better person; that he’s just a sleeping pill away from never having to see Mayuzumi again.

But he doesn’t, and he exemplifies exactly what Mayuzumi wanted to avoid. “I just want answers, Mayuzumi-san,” he struggles to keep his voice even, “I won’t leave until you shed some light on this situation between us.”

How presumptuous. “You think I care?” Mayuzumi snaps. “You think I’d be willing enough to answer your stupid questions? Oh, of course. I’d be honored to,” he rolls his eyes. “Even if you had all the patience in the world, you would never get an answer from me. You’re fucking lucky that I even spared some time to talk you like this.” His expression has twisted into a nasty scowl. “I could choose to rain hell down upon you, or I could completely ignore you. But either way, you get nothing from me.”

Kuroko grimaces, having expected an answer like that. Still, it doesn’t make him any less infuriated. Ignoring the tight, nauseating feeling in his chest and anger pooling within his gut, he takes a steady breath to quell the nervousness that builds too quickly for his liking. “Don’t you think,” he nervously wets his lips, and finds that he can’t keep his gaze trained on the other, “don’t you think that you’re being unfair?”

“What, you thought that I was fair from the get-go?” Mayuzumi sneers. At Kuroko’s indignant glare up at him, he continues. “You say that like I owe you something.”

You do, Kuroko wants to scream, until his voice is raw and hurting. “It’s not my fault that I didn’t know better, Mayuzumi-san,” is what he grits out instead. Maybe if the other had fessed up sooner, they wouldn’t have to be in this argument. Maybe they both wouldn’t have had to been in a coma for a week. Maybe they could have even worked together to fix the problem.

“So what? You’re saying it’s my fault?”

“I never said that—”

“You know what? It doesn’t fucking matter,” Mayuzumi interrupts, his headache now more intense than before, “whether it was intentional or not doesn’t change the fact that you’re a pesky little brat who’s been an annoying thorn in my side since day one.” Mayuzumi huffs a sharp laugh, and he steps closer to the other. “You’re the one who came here after me,” he stabs his pointer finger at the other with each emphasized word. “You’re the intruder. You’re the one who encroached on my fucking privacy. I had already been dreaming for a while before you showed your sorry ass here, which means it’s your fault,” his anger rises, and his scowl deepens.

Kuroko looks appalled, so enraged that he’s trembling and fumbling with his words. “How—What—This is not my fault, Mayuzumi-san,” he stops to gather his disorganized thoughts, “you left me in the dark this whole time, and you still don’t care to clue me in, so how could it be my fault? Why are you blaming me for something that you should have told me earlier about?”

“Didn’t you hear me?” Mayuzumi clenches his fists and digs his nails into his palm, “I don’t owe you anything,” he presses on, his anger continuing to flare. “You coming here is the last thing I could ever want, and I’ve been trying to drive you out of here since ever since you showed up.” Mayuzumi faintly registers that he’s only spilling half lies through his tirade. Not all of what he’s saying does he fully agree with, but he’s letting his rage do all the work now. The fury is bubbling over, and he can’t find it in himself to stop.

“Sure, I hadn’t known at the start that you happened to be dreaming the same dream as me, but it was easy enough to find out,” he shrugs offhandedly. “I had known that you were always an idiot, but never to this extent of stupidity, where it took Akashi’s guidance in order to make you realize anything. You’re a dumbass. It was so easy playing you for a fool this whole fucking time. And after everything? I now know that all because of a fucking head injury that wasn’t even my fault caused this whole tiresome ordeal. I now know that I went comatose for a whole goddamn week because of you, and I still know you’re an insufferable little piece of shit that I hate,” he bites out, finally finishing his rant. He heaves after exhausting all of his pent up fury that has been building up since the day they met.

Mayuzumi doesn’t know what he expected as a reaction, but he certainly doesn’t expect for Kuroko to punch him across the face.

It’s jarring, to say the least.

Kuroko waits briefly until Mayuzumi shakes off the pain and affixes him with a menacing glare until he speaks, “I only came to get some questions answers, and I thought that you could have been reasonable, but I guess I thought wrong.” His voice wobbles and it frustrates him. He can’t help it. Kuroko is furious, but he can’t help the way that most of that fury has already turned into misery. The beginnings of tears prick at his eyes. He presses his lips into a line, and finally the betrayal and hurt settle in his gut like sediment. “Maybe if you had been a better person, we both could’ve walked away from this,” he gestures with his hands, “we could’ve both been happy if you hadn’t been—”

A jerk. A prick. An asshole. Awful. Despicable. The lowest of the low. The absolute worst.

Mayuzumi knows he’s all of these things, and Kuroko should hate him for everything he’s said and done. But strangely, he doesn’t want to bear the weight of those words coming from Kuroko himself. So he doesn’t let Kuroko finish his sentence, already reaching his hands forward and shoving Kuroko towards the wall, but doesn’t move to pin him in place.

“You just don’t quit, do you?” he snarls. “What does it take for you to give up and leave?”

“I won’t leave,” Kuroko snaps back at him. “Why are you avoiding all my questions? Why is it so hard for you to just answer me?”

Mayuzumi glares unblinkingly at Kuroko, who glares back with a fury that parallels his own.

He hadn’t realized it through his rage, but the stabbing of pain in his head is impossible to ignore now. The migraine is worsening, and Mayuzumi doesn’t know how long he has till his head splits itself apart.

Something clicks in Kuroko’s expression, like he’s finally connected all the dots. “You...are you scared of telling me? Scared of what I might think and ruining this—”

“Shut up.”

There’s no hesitation in the way Mayuzumi brings his leg up, and before Kuroko can move to escape, he crushes his heel into Kuroko’s abdomen, ripping a choked sound of surprise out of the other.

“Mayuzumi-s—?” Kuroko’s wheezes, but is then sharply cut off when Mayuzumi delivers a punch across his face.

Mayuzumi is not a violent person by any means. In fact, he’d even say that he doesn’t even get angry often. Irritated, yes—rather often, but not full blown rage.

He hates anger. Anger is loud and anger attracts attention. Anger comes from being around others.

Mayuzumi almost isn’t able to believe what he’s doing himself. There’s a part of him that is shouting at himself to stop, but that teensy tiny doubt is stamped out by his outrage.

He digs his foot further into Kuroko, hearing the choked sounds of pain, watching Kuroko seize his ankle and try to remove his foot.

Maybe letting go of his rationality might even turn out better for him. After all, Kuroko had it coming. No matter how much Mayuzumi tried to push him away, to distance himself, Kuroko would find a way to close in on him again. Always testing him. Always so annoying. Always so persistent. Always wanting to get closer.

He had it coming.

It’s high time that Kuroko learned his lesson.

“P-please…” Kuroko struggles to speak, fighting just to form one word, “stop it…you—“ He claws at Mayuzumi with shaky hands, Mayuzumi’s foot like the edge of a blade piercing through his stomach.

“Shut. Up,” Mayuzumi hisses.

He lets the cruel words slip out and lets all sympathy drain out of his heart.

Kuroko thrashes, pushing and striking against Mayuzumi’s leg.

“You—” Kuroko gasps sharply upon Mayuzumi adding more pressure.

“I’m not scared of anything when it comes to you.” Mayuzumi’s expression twists in fury, deranged like a monster. “You’re the last person I want to hear that from!”

Kuroko doesn't know Mayuzumi in the slightest. And he's arrogant for believing so.

Kuroko yelps, the pain nearly unbearable at this point. His fingers tremble against Mayuzumi’s ankle.

Mayuzumi never asked for this. Never asked for the stupid brat to interfere.

Kuroko summons up all his energy and elbows the other’s ankle as hard as he can, successfully breaking away from the hold. He collapses onto his knees onto the concrete. He has no time to even nurse his abdomen before Mayuzumi is forcefully pulling him up by his collar to meet gazes.

Kuroko rasps, finding it a bit difficult to catch his breath and look the other in the eye. Still, he’s not going to let himself be manhandled any further, and promptly knees Mayuzumi in the abdomen. Upon being dropped, Kuroko then throws an uppercut, hitting Mayuzumi squarely in the nose. In a matter of seconds, it starts oozing blood.

Kuroko kneels in pain, one hand on his abdomen. “We’re not getting...anywhere with this,” he wheezes out behind clenched teeth.

Mayuzumi just scowls at the ground, a hand pinching his bleeding nose and migraine causing excruciating pain. He doesn’t have the fucking patience for this. As much as he wants to crush Kuroko’s resolve and finally cut ties one and for all, Mayuzumi knows that it’s a futile effort. All he needs to do to remind himself of Kuroko’s perseverance is to replay their basketball match together, where Kuroko defied all odds and overwrote him. He has been nothing but a nuisance to Mayuzumi. He’s supposed to be a stain upon the floor, a shadow that’s eliminated in the obscurity.

There’s no room here for someone like Kuroko in his mind space, but Kuroko won’t have any of it. Kuroko has never been the type to bend to other people’s wills, and especially not to Mayuzumi. He has always stayed right here, right by Mayuzumi’s side. He has always rejected being silenced, and would only continue to do so. A shadow like Kuroko does not fade away into nothingness.

And Mayuzumi is fucking sick and tired of it.

If he cannot get the other to listen to him, then he’ll approach the problem differently. It was never a necessity for Mayuzumi to put forth the effort to make the other obey, but his blind rage drove him to do something that he wouldn’t have done in normal circumstances.

His eyes slide towards the edge of the rooftop.

Everything can be resolved if he just avoids it. He’s never needed to play the main character, because others seek out the trouble when he can watch from afar, away from conflict.

It’s always been that way. There’s no reason why the same method wouldn’t work.

He’s never needed to take needless initiatives. So why start now?

He can continue dreaming in peace. He wants to keep dreaming in peace. He will keep dreaming in peace—

Sleep. He just wants sleep. He just wants a dreamless sleep without the brat there to always bother him. He couldn’t care less about what Kuroko feels, and he thinks that if Kuroko rots away while waiting for him, then so be it.

“I better not see you again,” he bites out, sending one last glare.

He runs.

He jumps off.

--

 A/N: So the thing is that I rewrote this chapter like four times and I’m so done I don’t wanna look at this anymore ugh  

Thanks for reading and sticking with me _(:’3

[remainingso]

Dead To Me

Ship: mostly one-sided Percy/Nico (there is no kissing but there is Tension and also there will be kissing in the next part 

Premise: An AU where Nico can see numbers that tell him when people will die! Also a continuation from this fic here (link opens to AO3) but you don’t have to read that one to understand this. Also Percabeth broke up sometime in here 

Summary: Nico’s been avoiding Percy for months since they both clawed their way back out of Tartarus. Jason decides to stage an intervention. 

[Read on AO3] 

Nico barely talks to Percy for a month after the whole mess with Gaea. He tells himself it’s because there’s no time, because Percy is busy doing who knows what to help Chiron out around camp and Nico himself mostly drifts from New Rome and back these days anyways, so there’s—there’s really not enough time to sit down and talk through any of this shit anyways.

Not that Nico wants to do much talking.

He wants to—well, jury’s still out on what exactly it is he wants, but it sure as hell isn’t talking.

If he’s honest with himself (and he is, sometimes, late at night when there’s no one else around to witness it), Nico has to admit that mostly he’s just mad.

It’s a familiar enough feeling, this strange, tired rage that sinks his stomach whenever the subject of Percy Jackson arises, but Nico has spent months trying to untangle his life from Percy’s and he doesn’t appreciate all that complication reaching out to ensnare him all over again.

So it’s easier to veer away from the campfire, now, quickly sidestep the training grounds, and settle up against a tree somewhere where there’s no chance of ever running into Percy Jackson.  

It’s something of a shock when Jason steps out of the trees instead.

Nico narrows his eyes. “If you’re here to drag me back to singing kumbaya with the other campers, you’re wasting your time.”

“Good thing I’m not here for that, then,” Jason says.

“Right. So you’re just here to admire the shrubbery then?”

Jason takes a step forward. The shadows fall over his face, making it look more sombre than Nico suspects he’d like it to be, but the next words that fall out of Jason’s mouth proves him wrong. “I wanted to talk to you,” Jason says. “It’s kind of important, so if you wouldn’t mind…”

The instinct to snap out something caustic and get the hell out of there claws its way up Nico’s throat, but he swallows hard. He’s been working on that, lately.

“Mind what?” he asks faintly instead.

Jason gestures behind him. “It might be easier if you come to my cabin.”

At that, Nico bursts out laughing. “Aren’t you afraid your girlfriend’s gonna find me lurking around your room at night?” 

“Ha, very funny,” Jason says, then rubs awkwardly at the back of his neck. “I just thought it might be easier without the threat of someone walking in, you know. Not that this—not that it’s serious or anything, but you work so hard to keep up your mysterious son of Hades, Ghost King thing, so I figured…” He gestures behind him again, a little helplessly, and dammit Jason is one of the only people earnest enough to make Nico’s prickly shield retreat, just a little.

“Shut up, Grace,” he says, but then he pushes off the tree. “Let’s go.”

Jason beams. Nico tries not to smile in return as they make their way towards the Zeus cabin.

Of course, all bets are off when the door swings open and there, standing right in the middle of Jason’s room, is Percy fucking Jackson 

If it weren’t so pathetic, Nico would’ve lunged for the door. Instead, he tenses and turns slowly to glare at Jason. “What’s going on?” he asks, almost wishing he was fighting literal monsters instead of just figurative ones.

“You two need to talk,” Jason says. “I’ll be waiting outside.”

Then the door is clicking shut, and Nico makes another slow turn, not sure where he can go. Dammit Grace, he thinks, you could at least put up some decorations in here.  

At last, when there’s nowhere else to turn, Nico looks Percy dead on.

The son of Poseidon looks pretty gobsmacked, himself. There’s a small pleasure in how hesitant Percy looks, his hands curling and uncurling at his sides, lips pursed in a strained frown. Nico stays silent, wanting to make him squirm.

Slowly, the strange shifting numbers that Nico always looks for when he sees Percy appear. They shuffle, rearrange themselves like floating dust, and Nico breathes a small sigh of relief when they stay. He hasn’t had a chance to get enough of a good look at Percy since… well since everything, but the time is still the same. It’s the same time it’s always been. It hasn’t changed, even if everything else has.

Percy Jackson still dies somewhere in his 80s (Nico has never bothered to count the years to any sort of exactness). The numbers remain pretty steadfast on that one 

The silence stretches between them, taut and tight. Nico doesn’t want to be the one to break it 

As it happens, Percy snaps first. 

“Am I… did I… do something wrong?” he asks, faltering. He starts to pace around the room, his footsteps landing heavily as his hands fidget uselessly at his sides. “Are you mad at me for something? Because I swear, whatever it is, I didn’t mean it and I’m really really sorry, but you’ve been just… weird ever since… since…” 

“Since you came back from hell?”

Percy’s mouth snaps shut.

The laugh rips out of Nico’s throat too loudly, but once that’s out, everything else tumblrs along with it. “I don’t know how you can be so peachy keen and ready to get back to your normal life or whatever it is you’re doing now, but I’m not so ready to forgive you just yet, Jackson,” he snaps.

“What was I supposed to do, Nico?” It’s the pure simplicity of that that makes Nico want to never ever talk to Percy ever again. It’s like there was never any option. As soon as he was teetering over that cliffside with Annabeth on one side and everyone else on the other, Percy’s mind was made. Breaking up hasn’t changed the conviction in Percy’s voice.

Nico drags a hand through his hair. “I don’t know,” he says, because there’s no arguing with that kind of logic.

“Then why…” Percy trails off, probably because then why are you still mad at me? is a question too stupid even for him.

“I wish I wasn’t,” Nico says through gritted teeth. “But I also wish you’d taken a moment to use your goddamn brain, Percy. Maybe thought of the rest of us instead of going ahead and doing your patented stupid self sacrificing bullshit.”

At that, Percy’s temper ignites. Some part of Nico thinks, finally. He takes three steps forward, until he’s leaning over Nico, eyes raging like the sea. “I had no choice,” he growls.

“You did,” Nico counters. “You always have a choice.”

“Well maybe I did!” Percy explodes, stalking closer and closer. “But I couldn’t—I never would’ve let Annabeth fall, and just because you can just write people off as dead doesn’t mean that I can!” He slams a hand down on the doorframe, and Nico wonders if he knows how predatory he comes off, now, how dangerous, how easy it all seems.

Perhaps this is what Tartarus does to you, too. Nico feels his own simmering anger, beating like a pulse under his skin. He tilts his chin up and refuses to cringe back. “Is that what you think I wanted?”

“It sure sounds like it is,” Percy snaps.

“Well, it’s not.”

“Then what do you want? What did I mess up this time? You might as well yell at me so we can both get it over with.”

“Your numbers disappeared,” Nico finally says. He closes his eyes, pushing away the frenzy he remembers from that terrifying moment where he look at Percy and saw nothing. Nothing but the blank darkness of Tartarus. “I couldn’t see them anymore. I knew you were going to let go before you actually did, you asshole.”

Suddenly, Percy looks very tired. He doesn’t back off, but he does sag a little, and Nico is suddenly aware of how that brings his face just that much closer.

“I… I didn’t know that,” Percy says, his breath blowing across Nico’s cheek. He looks fucking shattered.

“Yeah,” Nico bites out. “Of course you didn’t.”

“So you didn’t know?”

Nico laughs again, a little breathlessly. “No,” he says. “I had no goddamn clue if you’d ever manage to drag your ass back out when I let you go.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

Percy furrows his brow, and, well, this close, Nico can see the sweep of his eyelashes when he blinks in confusion and it makes him want to die a little, right now, numbers be screwed.

“I just thought…,” Percy trails off, frowning harder. “Why didn’t you tell me earlier?”

“Mostly so this didn’t happen,” Nico says, but it’s missing most of his usual barb. He wants to shrug and lean away, but Percy’s arm is still on the doorframe and there’s not much room to lean into.

Then, they’re both all too aware of how close Percy is, how edged in Nico is. It’s all a mess, really, and Nico wants nothing more than to melt into the shadows, if there were any lurking around.

Percy swallows, hard, the line of his throat tight as his Adam’s apple bobs. He works his jaw as if he wants to say something, and Nico is desperately certain that he doesn’t want to hear it. It would be easy enough for Nico to tilt his face up, now, grab Percy and—and what?

(And, see, Nico doesn’t really know what went down with him and Annabeth, and he doesn’t really want to know in particular, but it’s impossible not to think about that now.)

So he blurts, “They’re back now, though. I can see your numbers again,” and winces because that was absolutely not the right thing to say.

Instantly, Percy jerks back, the numbers flickering by his face following. “Don’t tell me!” he shouts. 

“What?”

“I mean. That’s good. I’m glad. I don’t want to, er, worry you,” Percy says awkwardly, back peddling so back Nico’s head spins. “Just—don’t tell me what they say?”

Nico snorts. “You die tomorrow, Jackson. Better go get your will straightened out.”

“Just for that, I’m not leaving you anything,” Percy says, finally not panicking anymore. He settles, standing a comfortable distance away from Nico, and Nico hates himself a little bit for wanting him to come back a little closer.

“Like I ever wanted anything of yours, Jackson,” Nico says, then has to laugh at himself.

Percy looks at him with this funny little tilt to his head, as if he’s trying to figure Nico out. There’s nothing hostile about him anymore, a far cry from the instant stormy rage earlier, but the thread of tension is still taut between them. Nico wonders if it’ll ever go away.

“I am sorry,” Percy finally says.

“For what?” Nico asks, not wanting to let him off the hook this easy.

“For everything, I guess,” Percy mutters. “For not really getting it. I gotta be honest, I don’t think I ever will get what it’s like to be you.”

“Well, halle-fucking-lujah for that.”

“I still am sorry, though,” Percy says, and it’s so damn sincere that Nico feels the tension bunching up his shoulders ease up a little. “You were right. I wasn’t thinking of much then, and I guess… it’s something I have to work on, okay?”

“I guess I could’ve told you about the numbers earlier.”

Percy grins again, wide and relieved. “Damn right you could’ve, di Angelo.”

“Just don’t—don’t do that again,” Nico manages. “I don’t like. Not knowing.”

“Oh gods forbid the terrifying son of Hades deal with death like a normal person.”

Nico snorts and doesn’t dignify that with a response. Instead, he eases himself off the door and grabs the handle.

“Are you going to stop ignoring me now?” Percy calls when he’s halfway out the door.

A smile works its way onto Nico’s face before he can help it. The last thread of tension loosens, uncurls, and Nico feels like he can finally breathe after months of suffocating. “Maybe if you’re lucky,” he calls back, then he slams the door behind him and walks away in the shadows. Before he leaves, he makes sure to flip Jason off.