#a stupid kid you haven’t even stepped foot outside to finally be yourself and find people you like

[us-the-voices-and-more-voices-2]

me: wow, I uh actually am an okay person whoa.

also me: how is this possible it shouldn’t be why how why how why how why how why how why how.

[cherienymphe]

Joke’s On You (Joker x Reader)

WARNINGS: DUB-CON, NON-CON, ABUSIVE RELATIONSHIP, knife play, blood play, murder, violence, 

IF ANY OF THIS OFFENDS YOU, PLEASE DNI

➥ {page breaks done by @whimsicalrogers​}

summary: you’re a part time thief who keeps getting in the Joker’s way. What starts out as rivals quickly turns into something hot and heavy, and before you know it, you’re J’s girl. Whether you want to be or not {based off of this headcanon}

~

The first time you ever come face to face with the Joker, the clown king himself, is during one of the first night’s you first started to execute your grand idea. You went through a klepto phase when you were a kid, but you never expected you’d return to it, and definitely not on a bigger scale like this.

It wasn’t like you were homeless or right on the poverty line. You had money, quite a bit in fact. One of the perks of being a stripper in the most popular club in Gotham, but there came a certain thrill from stealing from the rich in this city. Sure, you took their money on the stage, did everything you could to make them empty their pockets, but taking their money right out from under their nose was different.

You’re not sure when you came up with the bright idea, but you knew that if you wanted to keep this up and stay out of prison, you had to get smart about this. That was where the Joker came in. That clown ran this city, and you knew that with him around, no one would dare to even notice you. If you made your hits the same time as him, you could get in and out to no one’s knowledge.

It was a solid plan.

Until it wasn’t.

You almost ruin his plans to send a bank up into flames, and your eyes briefly meet his cold green ones before you’re taking off. You half expected to hear the sound of gunshots, even expected to get hurt or worse, but you can hear him telling his thugs to stand down. He doesn’t seem the least bit bothered by your presence, no real threat, and you’re unsure if you should be offended or not.

You had never seen the man himself up close before, and you’re shocked to realize that he’s taller than you imagined. More intimidating than you imagined. Despite the fact that he barely paid you any mind, you can’t help feeling like he’s going to break into your apartment and slit your throat. You’re a petty thief, nothing like the big criminals in this city, and your run in with him spooks you. It takes a long time for you to fall asleep that night.

You quickly put it behind you though and tell yourself that you just have to be more careful from here on out. It soon becomes obvious that that’s easier said than done. You hadn’t meant to get in his way when he was taking the mayor hostage. It was an honest mistake when you almost kept him from breaking some other danger to society out of Arkham, but the nail in your coffin finally comes when you do prevent him from robbing a bank truck.

You barely ducked in time as a bullet came flying past your head. You’re shaken up, but you manage to force yourself to get the hell out of there before the cops showed up and before the Joker took another shot. You should have known that he was going to be expecting you. The Joker was a lot of things, but stupid was not one of them.

You walk right into a trap, and you’re in the bank vault, hands full of money when you feel a sharp tug on your hair. You swallow down a yelp as you’re yanked back into a bare chest, and your eyes widen when a hand curls around your throat. You may not be the best villain in the world, but you’re one that can defend yourself, and the walls of the vault shake as you fight back.

He’s stronger than he looks, but you’re stronger than you look, and you both realize this when he has a gun pressed to your forehead while you have a knife at his throat. Your heart is hammering inside of your chest because not only are you once again face to face with the Joker himself, but he’s seconds away from killing you. You feel like you’re about to throw up, and he’s clearly amused.

He tilts his head at you, red lips parting to reveal a shiny grin, a laugh bubbling in his throat as he presses the barrel of the gun even further into your skin. His purple coat hangs off of him, pale chest heaving and that’s how you know that despite his grin, he’s irritated. Maybe even mad.

“…and what do they call you?”

His voice is deep, and that takes you by surprise. A lot of things about the infamous criminal are taking you by surprise.

“What does it matter? You’re going to kill me anyway, right?”

He hums, stepping closer with a sneer.

“I haven’t quite figured that one out yet…maybe I will when you tell me your name…”

“Well, I haven’t quite figured out what I want to be called,” you honestly told him.

No one but him and his goons knew about you, so you had never counted on anyone else knowing about you either. The thought of an alias never crossed your mind.

“Trying to steal my shine or something? You want to be the big dog around here?”

“Oh, please,” you scoff, and if he had eyebrows, you were sure he’d be raising one at you right now with the look he gave you.

He narrowed his eyes, and in one movement, he ripped your mask from your eyes, making them widen. He looked down his nose at you, taking in your all black attire before finally resting his eyes on your face.

“…or don’t tell me…you’re one of those girlies who thinks she can run around with me?”

You frowned at him, and he continued.

“I take it you’re a big fan.”

His tone was mocking, and you had the urge to spit in his face, but you knew that would surely put a bullet in your head, so you simply rolled your eyes.

“Hardly. With you around, no one will even look my way. Your taste for the dramatics allows me to stay below the radar,” you told him.

He hummed at that, tilting his head from side to side as he weighed your explanation in his mind.

“That’s smart, and I gotta hand it to ya, I didn’t think you were smart.”

Your frown deepened at his backhanded compliment, but it was quickly wiped from your face when he tightened his hold on his gun, and your eyes widened.

“Smart, but not smart enough to stay out of my way-.”

He was interrupted as the building shook, and you both turned as gunshots reached your ears. While he was distracted, you slipped out of his grip, ducking in time to miss a bullet before turning the corner. A recognizable shadow passed over the walls, and you ducked into a nearby hallway just as the winged vigilante himself met the Joker as he stepped into the hall.

The air hitting your face reminded you that your mask was gone, and you quietly made your way to the back exit as the sound of fighting and gunshots grew fainter. You released a sigh of relief when you made it outside, and although you didn’t have anything to show for your excursion, at least you had your life.

A thin layer of sweat clings to your skin as you step down off of the stage, feet aching in your heels. A coworker of yours winks at you as she takes your place on the stage, and you wish her luck. Customers were being a bit stingy today, and considering your last heist granted you with nothing, your lack of cashflow today had you more annoyed than usual.

Sure, it was a Tuesday afternoon, but it was still the hottest club in Gotham. Customers of all types of backgrounds frequented the place, and although the old money crowd practically lived here, you had a love hate relationship with their kind. They tended to be the stingiest with their money despite having more than you could ever dream of.

“What time are you off?”

You turned to another girl who worked at the place, Mandy, and threw her a grim look.

“12.”

She grimaced, blue eyes filled with pity as she shook her head.

“Sheesh. Well, that’s what happens when you’re the best dancer in this place,” she said with a shrug. “Your demand is high.”

“High demand and low pay. What a treat,” you sarcastically replied.

She chuckled, but she quickly swallowed it down, eyes glancing past you. The club was already loud, but there seemed to be an uptake in noise, and you turned to find the cause. You froze where you stood, eyes wide and lips parting at the group of people who just stepped into the place.

All of the men varied in size and shape, all dressed in black as they made their way inside like they owned the place. You supposed that in a way they did. Anyone following the footsteps of the Joker probably felt like he could get away with anything. The man in question led the bunch, strutting past patrons with a dark look in his eye, green hair contrasting against his dark red shirt.

You quickly turned back around, squeezing your eyes shut as Mandy let out a low whistle.

“I haven’t seen him step foot in here in forever,” she commented.

You looked to her with a confused frown.

“What?”

“Oh, yeah. You’ve only been here for what, half a year? The Joker used to come in here all the time. They’d get a bit rowdy but what is that when he’s the highest paying customer?”

She shrugged, reaching for a tray of drinks, completely unaware of your internal dilemma. It was almost time to get back on stage.

“Have fun,” she purred, walking past you.

You took a deep breath, forcing yourself to calm down as you stewed over what you should do. Sure, you were a thief in your spare time, but you couldn’t lose this job. As much as you wanted to, you couldn’t walk out of here, so you straightened your shoulders and made your way back to your stage.

You kept an eye out for pale skin and green hair, and you were thankful to find him far on the other side of the room. He and his crew were occupied by another dancer, Mandy serving them drinks. You were thankful and carefully stepped onto the stage.

As usual, you attracted a nice sized crowd, and you made sure to keep your face turned away as you moved around the pole. You were pleased to find that this crowd was more generous with their money, but your satisfaction was short lived when your turned to find your boss gesturing for you to come off the stage. You were confused but did so anyway. He nervously scratched his dark beard as you approached, and you had a sinking feeling in your gut for some reason.

“What is it?”

He grumbled and jerked his head towards the other side of the building, and you hesitantly looked over his shoulder. The Joker’s goons were having a good time tossing money at the dancer on stage, a few of them clearly drunk. The green-haired man, however, wasn’t partaking in the festivities. His unreadable gaze was focused on you, and your heart sank when he didn’t break the stare. You were forced to when your boss spoke.

“He wants a private session with you,” the older man mumbled, and you’d be dumb to miss the fear and concern in his voice.

You internally cursed.

“You’re kidding…”

“…’fraid not. He was very clear in his…request,” he responded.

You both knew that it wasn’t a request. The Joker never requested anything, and you briefly closed your eyes, positive that this was going to be your last night on earth. Your boss placed his hand on your shoulder, gaze sympathetic…and pitying.

“Just do what he says, alright?”

He wasn’t just telling you that to make more money, but to keep you from becoming the clown’s next victim. You didn’t have the heart to tell him that your fate was already sealed. With a nod, you strutted past him and made your way to the other side of the room. The Joker’s expression didn’t change as you approached him, and you nervously swallowed. His cold green eyes seemed to follow the gesture, and you took a deep breath.

“Someone request a private room?”

Again, he said nothing, simply tilting his head to the side as his trailed his eyes over your scantily clad form. Some of his posse was still enamored with the dancer before them, but the rest had turned to not so discreetly eye you. They all looked away when the green-haired man stood, and your eyes fell to the sliver of skin that peeked through the top of his shirt, unable to hold his gaze.

“Right this way…”

You didn’t hear his footsteps, but you could feel his presence behind you as you led the way to the back where the private rooms were located. The walk was quiet, thick with tension, and you wondered if it was too late for you to start saying your prayers.

You went in first, blinking at the red glow of the room that came from the neon lights. You were shaking, stomach churning as the door clicked shut behind him. You turned to tell him to get it over with when his hand wrapped around your throat, forcing you to swallow your words. You let out a pained squeak, eyes watering, but his lips swallowed any other noise you threatened to make.

Your eyes were wide as he roughly kissed you, shock coursing through you while his mouth moved against yours. You stumbled back in your heels, but he quickly followed, teeth nipping at you so violently that you tasted blood. You wanted to tell him that this wasn’t that kind of club. This was not in your job description and was not allowed, but you remembered your boss’ words and wondered if he knew that this was what the man wanted?

Even still, you couldn’t go through with this, but his tattooed hands were ripping at your attire before you had the chance to voice what you wanted to say. Your lips were finally free to tell him off, but the only thing that came out was a yelp when his teeth sank into your shoulder. The pain you felt was quickly overshadowed by the pleasure that warmed your stomach when his fingers brushed over you.

You pushed against his chest, but his other hand grabbed your wrist, spinning you around so that your back was pressed to his chest. It happened so quickly that you didn’t have time to ponder what was happening until he was already inside of you. One hand was tangled in your hair, face pressed into the seat of the sofa as broken moans escaped your trembling lips.

His free hand was pressed into the skin between your shoulder blades, holding you down while his hips snapped into you over and over again. He was far from gentle, but every harsh stroke only seemed to stroke that fire inside of you. Your lashes were fluttering as he thrust into you, eyes rolling while you tried to make sense of everything.

You could feel his nails pressing into your back as he pinned you down, and your own scraped against the fabric of the couch while choked moans climbed out of your throat. This was far from how you expected your day to go. After all, it wasn’t that long ago that this man was trying to kill you. You fluttered around his unrelenting cock and tried to remember why that was a bad thing.

He let out what sounded like a growl above you, the fabric of his pants pressing into your skin as he ground against you, and his hand in your hair moved to the back of your neck just as the tightening in your stomach snapped. You came around him with an embarrassing scream, going limp beneath him as he fucked you through your climax, diving headfirst into his own.

You collapsed the minute he let you go, vision blurry and throat sore as you heard him zip his pants. You were still shaking, and he was already gathering himself together like nothing had happened. Like he hadn’t just fucked you delirious. You moved to stand, ready to give him a piece of your mind, but you collapsed back onto the couch.

If you didn’t know any better, you’d say you heard a low chuckle in his throat. Either way, you didn’t get to ask him because the sound of the door slamming shut reached your ears seconds later.

The next time you ran into that stupid clown, you took great satisfaction in striking him square in the face. You didn’t care that he was surrounded by his band of hired muscle nor that you were currently standing in the middle of a jewelry store, alarm blaring in your ears almost painfully.

He gestured for the men around him to continue looting the place, seeing as they had paused to take in the scene. You knew they would have killed you without hesitation had he told them to. You glared at him as he grinned at you, bat perched on his shoulder.

“We’ve gotta stop running into each other like this,” he lowly said.

“That was for the last time we ‘ran into each other’,” you sneered. “I don’t care who you are, you don’t get to-.”

“Consider it my way of letting you get off easy.”

He chuckled at his play on words, but you weren’t amused in the slightest.

“Get off easy? Are you even crazier than everyone thinks?”

His grin was gone in a flash, and he stepped towards you, tapping his bat against his shoulder as he leaned in. His lips were parted as his eyes bore into your own, and you forced yourself to stand your ground as the scent of him invaded your nose.

“If you recall,” he slowly began. “You’re supposed to be dead.”

You swallowed, jaw clenching as he tapped his finger against your nose.

“The plan was to put a bullet in that pretty little mouth of yours. Does that…ring any bells?”

You pressed your lips together, glancing away as he let out a breathy chuckle.

“Fucking you brought me more satisfaction than killing you ever could,” he deeply said.

You felt heat rise to your face, and he tilted his head, lips brushing against your own as he spoke.

“So…I suggest you keep me satisfied…”

His coat flew behind him as he spun away, stomping towards one of his men to bark orders at them. Anger and humiliation coursed through you as you stomped outside, and you narrowed your eyes as the sound of police sirens drew nearer. With a sneer, you grabbed the knife in your holster before slashing the tires on his van.

That kept you satisfied throughout the rest of the night, but you paid for it dearly the next day at the club. This time, he hadn’t even waited until you were in the room. His hand had curled around the back of your neck as soon as you got to the door, forcing you inside as soon as he opened it.

You had stumbled in your heels, falling to your knees, and he was there before you could even rise. His hand was on your neck the entire time he slammed into you, the carpet scraping against your back. You could hardly breathe, let alone moan as he had his way with you, and you knew that he was genuinely angry this time, and you wondered how he managed to escape the police.

He was punishing you for your little stunt, but God did you love it. Your hands fisted into his bright red button down as he slid into your soaked walls, trying to pull him closer. You heard him hum every time you clenched around his throbbing member, the sound of your arousal reaching your ears. You should have been embarrassed at how wet you were, but the Joker seemed to enjoy it just fine, and besides. You saw no reason to pretend.

Like the last time, he was righting himself as soon as he was done while you lay on the floor, still trying to catch your breath. You let out a soft chuckle as he slammed the door behind him, and you wouldn’t be surprised if you weren’t even able to talk in the morning.

This little game between the two of you became something of a regular occurrence. You’d make your hits when and where he did his to avoid exposure, and sometimes things would go wrong on his end. Some mishaps were genuine accidents, but you’d be lying if you said you didn’t enjoy the way he’d take out his frustration on you.

He fucked you like an animal, and you loved it because sometimes you couldn’t even form words afterwards. And best of all, he wasn’t trying to kill you anymore…just your vagina.

One day, he didn’t leave as soon as he was done. He stood over you, watching as you fought to control your breathing. When you realized that he wasn’t making any moves to leave, you peeled your eyes open to look up at him from your place on the couch.

“…what?”

You nervously sat up as he dug into his pocket, eyes widening when he pulled out the shiniest bracelet you’d ever seen. He dangled it in front of your face, a low hum escaping him as you admired it.

“Saw this shiny little number in the display. It had my little thief written all over it…”

He jerked it away when you reached for it, so you reached higher, gasping when he closed his free hand around your wrist. You watched as he snapped the expensive piece of jewelry around your arm, and you brushed your fingers over it the minute he let you go.

You were forced to pull your eyes away from it though when he harshly gripped your chin, pulling your head up so that you were looking at him. His green eyes bore into your own, face unreadable as he pressed his red lips together.

“You like it, doll face?”

You couldn’t hold back your grin, and you nodded.

“I love it,” you told him, unaware of the implications behind the gesture.

You started showing up to work with all kinds of new things. A new pair of earrings, a necklace that wasn’t that before, even some new heels that didn’t hurt your feet as much. You figured it was just a perk of fucking the king of Gotham, of keeping him satisfied.

You didn’t know that it went beyond mere satisfaction and thankful gestures.

It was a late night, or early morning depending on how you looked at it. The club was almost at its peak, the early hours of the morning being your busiest. You hadn’t seen J in a few days, but it wasn’t unusual. The man was basically running an empire.

You were servicing a client, a regular who could never stick to one dancer. He had a habit of hopping between the ladies at the club, and it looked like this week, he’d chosen you. The loud music filled your ears as you slid your hands over his shoulder, thighs brushing his as you danced on him. The bass from the music made your body vibrate, and your eyes fell closed as you fisted one of your hands into your hair, chest pushed forwards.

The man had already given you a handsome sum of money, and you knew that if you put on your best show, there was plenty more where that came from. The loud music prevented you from hearing the rise in voices as a new patron entered the club. It also prevented you from taking note of the worried chatter that had only just started to emerge, but it didn’t drown out the sound of a gunshot that you flinching.

However, you didn’t open your eyes because of the gunshot. You opened your eyes at the feel of droplets landing all over your face, hair, and clothes. You faintly registered the sound of screams surrounding you as people fled from the club, tripping over one another. You stumbled back, frozen in place as you stood up straight, hands raised in front of you as you stared at your dead customer in shock.

He was dead.

That much was more than clear, but you were having a hard time wrapping your head around it. Heavy footsteps slowly made their way over to you, and you hesitantly looked over, terrified eyes connecting with familiar green ones. His eyes were wild and crazed, green hair pushed back away from his face, gun swinging back and forth on his finger. He looked good in his all white suit, not a spot of blood on him.

You wished you could say the same.

“Are you insane?” you screamed, legs trembling.

“Well, that’s what they tell me.”

You frowned at him as he threw his head back and cackled, and you shook your head, fighting to clear it.

“Why did you do that? What’s wrong with you?”

He abruptly stopped laughing, slowly lowering his head to gaze at you. His lips parted into a mocking grin.

“What’s wrong with me? What’s wrong with you? I leave town on business for a few days, and I come back to find my girl practically screwing some punk for the whole club to see,” he slowly said, voice low and threatening.

Your anger kicked you into gear, and you stomped towards him, a frown on your face.

“I am not your girl, and even if I was…this is my job! You know this is my job-!”

Your words were cut off, and you winced as he tightened his hold on your neck. Your feet were barely grazing the floor as he walked forwards, forcing you back. You dug your fingers into his arm, hitting at him with your free hand, but he acted as if you weren’t even fighting back.

“Those nice earrings you’re wearing says you’re my girl…”

Your stomach churned as you began to realize the serious meaning behind his gifts.

“…that pretty little bracelet on your arm says you’re my girl…”

You looked around in fear, realizing that the club was completely empty save for you, the Joker, and his thugs. You kicked at him as he forced your back onto the stage, his firm body pressing down on yours. His hold was still tight, and you felt tears spring forth as you fought to breathe.

“…and I say you’re my girl. Understand?”

You gave a shaky nod, but it wasn’t enough for him. He lifted you by the neck before slamming you back down, making you wince, and a slow grin spread along his face, revealing his shiny teeth.

“I’ve got a whole lotta toys, sweetheart. I earned those toys. I took those toys. Those toys are mine…”

You watched as he pointed his gun at the dead man still slumped in the chair.

“…and I don’t like people touching my toys.”

You didn’t get a chance to ponder on this turn of events before his lips were harshly pressing against yours. He slammed the gun down next to your head, hands pulling at your attire, and the tears finally spilled over as you fought against him. You weren’t alone, and this was a new level of humiliation that you weren’t okay with.

A man was dead. In fact, you were still covered in his blood, and the Joker’s men were just behind him, intently listening to everything, no doubt. His grip was harsh as he took hold of your wrists, slamming them down beside you. He let one go to grab his gun, pressing it into your lips as you shook.

“You gonna be a good girl? Or do I have to use this again?”

His voice was calm despite the violent implications behind his words, and you shakily shook your head.

He was rougher with you than he had ever been before. Biting you, choking you, and holding you far too tight. Part of you felt like it was done on purpose, not only so you’d get the idea, but so that the rest of his crew would get that you were his too. You cried as he pressed your cheek down onto the stage floor, hips snapping against your backside while harsh grunts left his lips.

You couldn’t handle staring at the Joker’s latest victim while he forced himself into you, so you squeezed your eyes shut. His other hand dug into your hip so harshly, you knew it was going to leave a bruise. As the minutes drew on, it seemed like his ministrations were becoming rougher, and if you didn’t know any better, you’d say the sound of your sobs were egging him on.

His grip on your hair when he came had more tears springing to your eyes, and you flinched when his lips brushed your ear.

“Clean yourself up…”

Having only been half on the stage, you collapsed to the floor when he let you go. Your hair and makeup were a mess, and you miserably stared up at him through tear-filled eyes as he tucked his shirt back into his pants, swiftly pulling on his white suit jacket.

“…the cops will be here soon, and you gotta pull yourself together. Huh, doll face?”

He forced your head back as he gripped your chin, and you reluctantly nodded. He roughly dragged his thumb over your lips, smearing what was left of your lipstick before taking his leave, leaving you alone with one dead body, and one bruised one.

You shuffled upstairs, arms aching and eyes tight as you made your way to your apartment. It had been weeks since you’d been back to the club. Your boss, someone you were ever grateful for, told you to come back when you were ready. After all, you’d had someone’s brains blown out right in front of you…on you.

You were fortunate that no one stuck around to see J’s possessive display of ownership, so no one knew what his impromptu murder was really about. Everyone speculated that the customer had crossed the Joker in some way, a business deal gone wrong, but only you knew the truth. Only you knew that the man’s only crime had been paying for your time.

You took a break from stealing from the wealthy too. Not only did you lack the energy, but you couldn’t chance running into the Joker. Had you known what all of those gifts had meant, you never would have accepted them. You didn’t want to be the Joker’s. The last girl who got seriously tangled up with him had ended up almost crazier than he was.

Granted, you heard Harley Quinn was doing better these days, but God. Look how long it took her to get there? The thought of telling him to his face that it was over was a scary one, so you settled for just hiding away in your apartment. He was the Joker, a man who had a lot on his plate, and like he’d said, you were a toy to him. There were plenty of toys out there, and he could easily find another.

You dropped the groceries to the floor as soon as you made it inside, and you groaned as you straightened. Your shoes clicked along the floor as you made your way through your dark apartment. You turned on the kitchen light so that it would be on when you returned, and you made your way through your living room, looking forward to getting out of these clothes.

However, when you turned on the light in the living room, you were startled by the sight of a familiar green-haired villain standing in the corner like some statue. You barely swallowed down the scream that bubbled in your throat, and your eyes were wide as you took him in.

He was wearing a tux, a nice one with a white bowtie and a matching boutonniere. His hair was slicked back, and you weren’t sure where he came from, but you wanted him to go right back.

“I was enjoying a night out on the town…taunting Batsy as I like to do…”

He walked away from the wall as he slowly begun, cold eyes roaming over your apartment.

“…when I realized that I hadn’t seen my little thief for days. Weeks even.”

“What are you doing here?”

He didn’t respond, instead opting to make his way around the living room, running his gloved hands over your furniture. You didn’t realize that he was gradually closing the circle, nearing you.

“You haven’t been at work. You haven’t been in my face while you ruin my plans. You’re not hiding from me…are ya, doll face?”

You clenched your jaw, swallowing down your fear as you crossed your arms over your chest.

“I’m not hiding from you. We’re just through,” you told him.

He froze, glancing over his shoulder at you before continuing to look around.

“Did you hear me? You and I are done. Take your jewelry back, take everything you gave me and leave,” you continued.

He continued on as if he hadn’t heard you, and you stomped towards him.

“I’m serious, J! Do I need to call the police?”

That made him turn, and he wagged his finger at you like you were a misbehaving child.

“Careful,” he purred. “…because I personally know a certain thief they’d love to be informed about.”

You frowned, swallowing before pushing past him.

“I don’t care. At least in jail, I’ll be away from you-.”

You were cut off by your own scream, reaching for his hand as he pulled on your hair, forcing you away from the phone. He pulled you against him, and your eyes widened when he pressed a knife against your cheek, a hair’s width away from your lips.

“You have no agency in this arrangement.”

He threw you to the floor, and you scrambled away from him, nails scraping along the wood as he pulled you back. He cut your clothes away with ease, the torn shreds falling to the floor to leave you bear before him. The knife that grazed along your skin kept you from screaming as he undressed, but you did wince when he pressed it into your thigh, like a warning of what could come.

He took you behind the couch first, holding your thighs so tightly that the skin burned when he finally let go. Your table was next, but unfortunately, it didn’t withstand his rough treatment. The wall shook as he fucked you against it, every thrust rattling the pictures you had hung up to make this place a tad cozier.

Broken glass and broken pieces of wood littered the floor by the time he forced you into your bedroom. His knife remained in between his fingers the whole time he fucked you against your sheets. Your scalp burned from his harsh hold, and your throat hurt every time you swallowed, and you just knew that you’d wake up with finger shaped bruises in the morning. His deep voice was a constant in your ear, calling you ‘his little thief’, tsking at you like you were a confused child, telling you how much he was going to straighten you out.

When you clenched around him for a final time, your legs were thrown over his shoulder while your hands were pinned above your head by one of his. His free hand had fun cutting little nicks into your skin, greedily licking up the blood as tears continued to dampen your cheeks. He continued to push himself into you even after he came, and when he finally pulled out, your legs fell to the bed, chest heaving with shallow sobs.

“Now, wasn’t that a whole lotta fun?”

You glared at him as he sat up, a thin layer of sweat clinging to his fair skin, and your eyes traced the ink that decorated him. His green hair was in disarray, a smug grin on his lips as he pushed the strange colored locks away from his face. You could hardly even move, and you feared that attempting to would hurt worse.

You watched as he leaned over to his discarded pants, pulling out some sparkly piece of jewelry that you couldn’t care less about. You swallowed as he held it up, nearing you.

“…and here I was out shopping for something to compliment those new earrings, and you’re talking about leaving me. That’s a bit rude, but I’m willing to look past it.”

More tears spill over as he slides it around your neck, and it feels more like a noose than a necklace.

“You look like a work of art,” he says, lips brushing your cheek. “…all pretty and marked up by yours truly.”

His hair tickles your face, and he slowly leans away, dragging his fingers over your lips. You wince when he roughly grabs your jaw, pressing his fingers into a tender spot that you know is already forming a bruise.

“Now, I’ll be back in a couple of hours, so don’t do anything stupid.”

He tightened his grip at the end of his sentence, and you flinched. He grinned at you as he lightly patted his other hand against your cheek, grin widening when you recoiled.

“Let’s not do anything like that again, alright, sweetheart?” he purrs. “I’d hate to have to really hurt ya.”

~

tags: @harryspet @sherrybaby14 @darkficreposter @xoxabs88xox  @opheliadawnwalker3 @honeychicanawrites @honeychicana @nickyl316h @captainchrisstan @sebabestianstan101 @readermia @villanellevi @lokislastlove @notyourtypicalrose @coconutqueen21 @hurricanerin @buckybarnesplumwhore @quaksonhehe @nerdygirl8203 @mandiiblanche @cocoamoonmalfoy​

[honeymoonjin]

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: ot7 x reader || ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 5.9k || ɢᴇɴʀᴇ: smut - rated 18+

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ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢs: cursing, panic attack

A/N: apologies for my tgm crimes here but i gotta keep you on your toes since you have the old plan. also i'm not going to spoil anything but day 25 has one of my fav scenes in the show so far ;;-; so please enjoy this chapter and i will continue to work hard to finish the following one and get back into the posting routine!

DAY TWENTY-FOUR

You’re roused from sleep by the feathered sensation of fingertips on your jaw. Twitching slightly, you try and move away from it, burrowing deeper into the warm, gently rocking pillow your head is propped up on.

Before you can slip back under, however, the fingers give one last attack: a sudden flick to your cheek that echoes with a thwack. You flinch and furrow your brows, grumbling your displeasure since your words haven’t quite found you yet.

“Get up, sleepyhead, unless you’d rather I just piss in the bed.”

That’ll do it. You shoot up so quickly your vision swims, one side of your face feeling cold without the comfort of Yoongi’s chest. “Fuck you, go pee,” you slur, eyes still half-closed, the morning glare peeking through a gap in his curtains.

Yoongi happily but hurriedly trots off to the bathroom, giving you a moment of respite to collect yourself. It takes a few moments to recall the previous night, not just the way Yoongi’s voice had made you cum in your room, but also the way it later lulled you to sleep as he told you hushed stories of his childhood or anecdotes from his days as a sex education teacher.

You can even hear his voice now, just barely slipping under the crack of the door, humming and singing under his breath as he washes his hands.

When he finally exits, you’re propped up by pillows, duvet tucked over your knees and eyes crinkled fondly at his bedhead.

“Oh, no,” he starts with a frown, “you better get that look off of your face.”

Your smile drops. “What?”

Taming his hair with a few flat strokes, he shakes his head. “I need somebody sane in this house to talk to. You aren’t allowed to fall in love with me, it’s conflict of interest.”

Mouth dropping open, it takes you a few minutes to note the subtle curl to his lips. “You dick! I’m certainly not planning on it, don’t flatter yourself.”

“Hey,” he defends in a drawl, no attempt at modesty as he shucks his pyjamas before browsing his chest of drawers, “it’s been done before. You come for the massive dick and stay for the massive heart.” He pauses, shoulder muscles flexing as he reaches in to a drawer, pulling out a pair of dark wash jeans. “Stop looking at my ass, I’m trying to lecture you.”

On the contrary, you lower your gaze and narrow in on it. “You’re starting to develop a little bubble butt, Yoongi. It’s very cute.” Not leaving him time to protest, you barrel on. “Besides, your dick isn’t that big.”

“That’s only because you’re comparing mine to hyung’s. And Namjoon’s. And… And Jungkook’s, I guess. And-” Suddenly he cuts himself off, throwing himself back on the bed with his back hunched in despair. “Fuck, do I have a small dick?”

“Mm, not really,” you dismiss easily, deciding to finally get out of bed and pick out your own clothes - selecting them from Yoongi’s drawers, of course. He makes no protest, still staring blankly at the jeans in his hands. “You just have steep competition here. There’s nothing wrong with small dicks, either. They’re cute.”

Now visible from your angle, Yoongi’s face twists in a grimace. “But my dick isn’t small, right?”

You shrug, slipping on one of his FG shirts and a pair of sweatpants loose enough that you have to knot the drawstrings. “If it helps you sleep at night.”

He spares one somber glance down between his legs before he slips on a pair of underwear, finally stepping into the jeans. There’s a brief period of comfortable silence, before he lets out a small sigh. “Can I… Can I confess something to you?”

Although a quip would be easy enough to say, you sense the joking is over. “Of course, Yoongi,” you assure instead, sitting cross-legged on the unmade bed beside him. He doesn’t meet your eye, busying himself with slipping a shirt over his head. “What’s up?”

Once he’s fully dressed, he still keeps his eyes low. “When you- On Monday, when you voted out Jin-hyung. I was so glad.”

You pause for a moment. “Because you wanted him out of the competition?” you venture, but he shakes his head dully.

“Because I thought he might look at me again if he didn’t have you.”

Something sinks in your stomach, cold enough to make you shiver. The guilt in Yoongi’s voice doesn’t conceal the open vulnerability of his expression as he fiddles with his bitten fingernails. “What do you mean, Yoongi?”

“What him and I had earlier wasn’t healthy, I know that,” he defends to himself, “but… I still miss it. I miss him. But even when I spoke to him after the elimination, all he would talk about was you. And I can’t even be mad, because I get it. And I- If I’m honest,” he murmurs, feet scuffing restlessly on the carpet, “I don’t even know what I’m wanting to achieve by telling you this, but I couldn’t stand not having anybody know about it. I never wanted it to get this messy. I told myself I wouldn’t let my feelings get caught up. But I think a little heartbreak would be worth it, for him. Is that stupid?”

You feel so unanchored, like there’s nothing for you to grab onto to steady yourself. More so, you feel entirely incapable of helping your friend like you so desperately want to. “It’s not stupid,” you begin, reaching out to cup one of his hands snugly between the two of yours, head resting on his shoulder in solidarity, “and I’m so sorry. Does he- does he know you feel this way?”

“I don’t think so,” Yoongi admits in a low voice, leaning into your touch. “If he does, then he must not like me since he’s not acknowledging it. And if he doesn’t, then he must have never even considered me like that. I know I was a distraction at best.”

You knit your brows together, deep in thought to try and find the right words to say. “Or perhaps he knows and he’s respecting your boundaries by letting you initiate, especially since he was the one who took advantage of you last time. And perhaps he doesn’t know, and it’s only because he’s so caught up in his own feelings that he hasn’t considered that you may feel the same. You just don’t know these things, Yoongi. I didn’t know how you felt either until you told me.”

He nods slowly, jerkily. “Yeah,” he says weakly. “Jungkook said almost the exact same thing, actually.”

You pull back slowly, curiosity colouring your tone. “Jungkook?”

Yoongi manages a shy smile, cheeks colouring slightly. “He approached me. We- we talk a lot, way more than hyung and I ever did. I know Kookie has a crush on me, and we said we’d take things slow, but dammit, I can’t help but like the kid.”

You let a surprised laugh bubble up your throat. “That- I was not expecting that, but I’m so glad, Yoongi. Even if you don’t have Jin, I’m glad you’re letting yourself be happy with others.”

His smile falters. “Is it greedy that liking Jungkook doesn’t make me want Jin-hyung any less?”

You go still, thinking of your own blooming feelings for... Well, for most of the people in this house, if not - at least a little bit - all of them. “I don’t know,” you answer honestly. “I’d like to think not.”

Yoongi lifts his gaze to you, carefully studying your face. “Do you ever worry,” he begins, so softly that you have to strain to make the words out, “that our feelings have been set up. By the show, I mean.” His brows furrow deeper. “We’re living in a practical paradise - luxurious house with no real jobs, our food is paid for, we’re literally getting rewarded to have sex. It’s so artificial, you know? So who’s to say that our feelings are artificial, too? I- I’ve been thinking about that a lot,” he admits with a pensive stare.

You can’t lie. You nod. “I’d like to think not,” you repeat hollowly, “but… I mean, yeah, this feels like some alternate reality, and thinking of any of you in normal, mundane, real-life scenarios seems so strange. Like, can you picture Hoseok sitting down and doing his taxes?”

Yoongi snorts, shaking his head in bemusement as a line of tension eases from his shoulders. “I hope he hires an accountant. I certainly wouldn’t trust him with my money.”

You let out a deep sigh and fall backwards onto the duvet, air punched out of you on impact. “The thing is, Yoongi,” you declare in a matter-of-fact tone, “we have no way of knowing what life will be like once all this is wrapped up so why even bother worrying?”

He turns slightly, just enough to watch you warily over his shoulder. “Maybe because I could get my heart broken?”

You pout at him. “Tell me how that’s any different from developing a crush in real life?”

He opens his mouth, furrows his brows, and closes it again. “I- Ugh. Fuck you for being correct.”

Pleased with yourself, you hide your grin as you playfully knock his side with your foot, making him recoil with a groan. “Be as cautious or as impulsive as you want, but even if all this is fake, you could’ve just as easily developed those feelings outside of the show. Like come on, if you saw Jin in the grocery store don’t tell me you wouldn’t fall in love on sight!”

Yoongi shakes his head again, a wry smile playing at his lips. “I see your point… and now I’m picturing Jin getting groceries and looking hot doing it...wow.”

You cackle at the dazed look on Yoongi’s face, using his arm to pull yourself up off the bed, patting him on the shoulder. “Good talk, champ. I’m off to chow down on the leftover pork from last night. Care to join me?”

His eyes glitter, but the doctor declines. “Yoonji said she blackmailed one of the production team to bring her fried chicken from her favourite place. She’s hiding it in the bunk room, but you didn’t hear that from me. She’s selling some to me for a small fortune, the little devil.”

“Less than half a week here and she’s already set up a black market,” you muse, “I think I may be in love with her, Yoongi.”

“Don’t you dare.”

--

While the kitchen is empty when you first arrive, it only takes the sizzle of pork belly in a saucepan to draw your roommates down.

Jin is first, silently rummaging in the pantry and fridge for some side dishes to add to the mix. In return, you begin boiling some hot water, adding instant coffee mix to two mugs.

As the others join, the line of mugs and glasses on the kitchen island grows, until even the two Min twins are hovering in the kitchen, looking suspicously still hungry after their illicit breakfast.

There aren’t enough chairs at the table to seat you all, but luckily Taehyung and Jungkook are happy hunched over the bench in the kitchen, sharing a set of Airpods and snickering at a seemingly endless stream of TikToks.

At the table, Namjoon, Hoseok and Yoongi chow down on their meals, the latter with a considerably smaller portion made up mostly of meat. Yoonji and Jimin are on either side of you, with Jin on one end, chewing slow to savour each bite.

It’s the first time in a while that you’ve all shared breakfast at the same time, and you’re struck with a deep feeling of fondness at this little family-like group you’re living with.  Jimin sneaks extra strips of meat or spoonfuls of rice into your bowl when he thinks you’re not looking; Hoseok listens enthusiastically to Namjoon’s explanation of a summer school course he’s taking, even as he has to ask for clarification just about every second sentence; Yoongi splits his time between checking up on the two maknaes with a soft look, and scowling at his sister’s teasing comments.

“Any plans for the day?” Yoonji asks suddenly, tugging you out of your musings. She’s dressed sleekly in a black velvet mock neck shirt and high waisted denim shorts, her face as stark a resemblance to her brother as ever, with two sharp lines of black on her lids being the only visible makeup. “Except, I suppose, the mandatory fucking.”

You huff with pink cheeks, never growing used to hearing it so openly. “The days kinda blur together a little when you have no real responsibilities,” you admit, “I should probably find a hobby or something.”

Yoonji’s eyes crinkle in faux empathy. “Oh, honey, you’re gonna be so out of it when you return to the real world. You all will,” she adds, before shrugging, “except maybe Namjoon. Seems like academia doesn’t stop for anyone.”

You can’t help but agree. “He has more brain cells in his pinky finger than I do in my own body,” you swear, “he could break an arm and still type a thesis one-handed.”

Halfway through a mouthful of food, you’re rewarded to the ungraceful yet endlessly endearing sound of her snorting, a hand cupped over her mouth. After swallowing, she turns towards you to respond. “I haven’t known him for long, but that seems to check out. He’s quite the character, huh?”

You don’t miss the meaningful lilt to her voice, nor the quirk of a sharp brow. “He’s a good guy,” you reply under your breath, gaze darting down the table to where the man himself is engaged in an intensely enthusiastic discussion (okay, closer to a TedTalk) with Hoseok, now using pieces of meat to create an abstract diagram in his otherwise empty bowl. The latter looks bewildered, but is nonetheless paying deep attention to every word.

It’s impossible not to feel soft inside as you look at the pair of them, all complementary contrast. Hoseok with his slender nose and harsh facial structure and Namjoon with a round, gentle face. One of them dressed in sleek black and the other in oversized earth tones, the typically reserved one animated and the bubbly one focused in. It had taken you barely a month of shared living to become completely fond of these men, not just Namjoon and Hoseok but all of them, and as much as it was nice to have someone new in the Villa for a while, Yoonji’s presence makes you more aware of the fact that you and the seven guys had developed a certain equilibrium that seemed slightly off-balance with the change.

It makes you worry about what other disturbances this delicate system could hold, and if returning to the real world would be a shift large enough to permanently upend it.

Wishing to dispel the pessimistic narrative beginning to form, you focus in on Yoonji again. “Anyways,” you start, “how are you finding the Villa so far?”

“Certainly an interesting look behind the veil, though it’s really not ideal having to-” Yoonji’s cut off by the chirp of an incoming message on her phone. “Sorry, one sec,” she mumbles absentmindedly, but you don’t miss the way her face falls when she reads the message, immediately glancing directly across the table to where her brother sits.

To your growing concern, Yoongi is also reading a message on his phone, and he quietly excuses himself from the table, leaving his bowl half-eaten. He jerks his head towards the front door, and Yoonji manages a quick apology before they’re leaving the room.

All startled out of their separate conversations, the remaining members of the household sit in confused silence, enough that even Taehyung and Jungkook turn around from their phones.

“What’s going on?” Jungkook asks in a worried voice. “Where’s Yoongi-hyung?”

Nobody replies, Jin just shaking his head with a grim frown and leaving the table himself, going after them.

“Guys,” Taehyung says more insistently, eyes not leaving the empty seats at the table.

“They both got a text,” you say with furrowed brows, “Yoongi and Yoonji. Must’ve been bad news, judging by their faces.”

“Jin-hyung’ll find out what’s going on,” Namjoon assures, though it sounds more like he’s trying to convince himself, “let’s just clean up for them and wait for an update. Yeah?”

The two youngest nod solemnly, still with a single Airpod each bobbing in their opposite ears.

For a while, the group of you remaining sit in silence, as if caught up in some spell that would only be broken once Jin returned with some answers. The absence of Yoongi at the table is so much more pronounced, and you can’t help but feel the sickening worry swirl inside you when you look at his bowl, chopsticks strewn carelessly beside it.

Everyone is just waiting for bad news. You’ve felt this looming dread before, and it either came with a swoop of relief or a blow of despair. Your teeth find your thumbnail as you wait helplessly to see which one it’ll be.

It feels like an eternity before the door finally opens, making everyone jump, but only a few minutes have really passed. Jin is panting slightly, like he ran back from wherever Yoongi disappeared to.

“He’s-” he starts quickly, before a tremor passes over his face and he grimaces, jogging over and falling heavily into his chair at the table, face in his hands. “Their dad is in hospital. Heart attack.”

“Oh my god,” Namjoon breathes, brows knit together in sympathy. “Is he okay? Was it serious?”

Jin shrugs, looking up enough to run his hand over his face and take a shaky breath. “He’s alright for now, but apparently they need to make sure it doesn’t repeat anytime soon. If he settles, he’ll be fine, but there’s a chance that he might suffer another attack. Yoongi and Yoonji are going to the hospital now to stay with him until they’re more certain he’s stable. Just in case.”

“When is he coming back? Yoongi-hyung?” Jungkook’s eyes are wide, shiny. He can’t stop fiddling with his fingers, self-soothing.

“Not for a while, I don’t think,” Jin divulges with a pained expression. “He needs to be there for his family right now. That’s all I know, I’m sorry.”

The front door creaks, and all of you instinctively whip your heads towards it, as if Yoongi himself might be returning already, but you’re greeted with the weary face of Producer Sejin, joining you at the table, taking Yoongi’s old spot. Taehyung frowns deeply at the choice, turning his face away.

“What’s going on?” you ask quickly. “What happens to Yoongi? And us?”

“Yoongi is… He was in a rush to get going, understandably, so we didn’t speak in great depth. But he in short stated that he’d return when his father was in better health if the place was still open for him. I’ve got in contact with the higher-ups, and we’ve agreed to put the show on a temporary hold.”

“On hold?” Jungkook asks in a nervous voice. “What does that even mean?”

Sejin clears his throat stiffly and clicks his tongue. “Well. It means we’re putting a stop to the game for now, in short. If Yoongi is able to return by the end of the week, we’ll resume as usual. Otherwise, we’ll consider him to have permanently left the competition, and we’ll be forced to continue the game without him.”

You frown, fighting the urge to cry. This all feels so wrong, like he’s been taken from you with little hope of reunion, and discussing it like administration feels so clinical. “So we’re just sitting here, not knowing if he’s going to come back home, waiting around in limbo?” As soon as you finish, it feels like the word home lingers in the air longer than the rest of them. And perhaps this house doesn’t feel like home to you, but it certainly seems like six of the seven pieces of home are around you right now, and it’s not the same without him away. By the way the others are solemn and red-eyed, you probably aren’t the only one that’s begun feeling that way.

Sejin just shakes his head slowly, as subdued as you all are. “Listen, I know this isn’t ideal. The boss wanted to film it, make a big drama out of it, and then kick him off the show for views. I’m doing the best I can here to compromise and give him some dignity.”

Eyes widening, you stare at the round eyes of the cameras in the living room. “Are you- are you even allowed to say that?”

“I cut the camera feeds,” Sejin says in a defeated tone, “the show is officially off-air for technical difficulties. You can do what you want here while you wait - hell, you can leave if you want, just please be prepared to come back on the Sunday. We’ll have a discussion about whether Yoongi can return, and what we’ll do if he doesn’t. Understood?”

“Understood,” Namjoon offers up for the group, and the producer leaves with another sigh and an attempt at a comforting smile. You can’t help but feel bad for him, working such an emotionally draining job, especially when you’ve heard nothing but bad things about his employer.

Once the room falls into quiet again, Jin stands up, chair legs scraping against the floor. “Okay, I think we should decide as a group what we’re wanting to do. Stay or go?”

You open your mouth to give your two cents, but before you can, Jungkook suddenly chokes on a sob and covers his face with his hands, Jimin immediately scooting his chair closer to wrap an arm around his shaking shoulders.

“Hey, what is it?” Jimin asks quietly, but the room is so silent that you all catch it. “Talk to me, bun. What is it?”

Jungkook takes a few stuttering breaths to compose himself, sniffling. “I don’t want you all to leave too,” he confesses, Jimin’s thumb catching a tear dangling on the tip of his nose, “isn’t Yoongi-hyung enough?”

“I’m not going anywhere,” the elder promises, pressing a kiss into his hairline before looking up at the rest of you, eyes widening intentionally. “We’ll stick together through this until he comes back, yeah? It’s not all bad. The cameras are off, remember? We can have a break now, we don’t need to worry about the show. Isn’t that nice?”

After a moment’s considering, Jungkook nods slowly. “‘t is nice,” he admits begrudgingly. “But only if everyone stays.”

You can’t help but smile fondly, getting up yourself to come behind him, stroking his hair back. “We’ll stay, of course we’ll stay. Let’s spend some time together tonight, we can put on a movie and snuggle, how about that?”

He perks up at the thought of this, glancing around the table as the others nod in affirmation. “I’ll bring down the blankets,” he bargains, cracking a small smile, and the rest of the room relaxes, immediately bursting into sound as everyone arranges the necessary supplies for a good quality movie night, almost back to normal.

Jungkook, as the member of the Villa in most urgent need of a pick-me-up, is given movie choosing privileges, so the seven of you tuck in for a rewatch of his favourite Spiderman movies, perhaps the only thing that can keep him glued to the screen.

At first, the absence feels overwhelming to you. Try as you might through the opening sequence, you can’t shake it. Your mind counts heads without thinking, keeps looking at the space on the couch where Yoongi liked to put his feet up. Even though you know it’s his father who is unwell, not him, there’s the sick swelling in your stomach that makes you feel like his departure is final, and shortly after the title card plays out, you’re quietly excusing yourself and stumbling to the back door, in desperate need of fresh air.

It’s cold outside, a brisk wind cutting through you. You barely make it around the corner out of sight before your legs buckle, and you let yourself fall into a pathetic crouch, your weight propped up against the side of the house as you try to suck the chilled air into your lungs.

The panic creeps up on you in swells, the irrational fear that Yoongi would leave the show and you’d never see him again and everything would fall apart suddenly feeling like a whole tsunami crashing against you. Your fingers claw at the exterior wall as you fall back onto your behind, unable to even keep yourself in a crouch.

More so than the intrusive thoughts, it’s the image of Yoongi’s face falling, of him rushing out of the house in frantic distress that replays in your mind and leaves you suffocating. He looked so scared, your calm, reliable Yoongi. He was like a pillar, but that news was a fell swoop he couldn’t stay strong against. Your heart burns for him, cramping and aching in your chest.

For a moment, you picture yourself staying out here, gasping for breath until the sun goes down. You feel alone, more than ever since coming here, and even as the thought spooks you, there’s no energy in your body to do anything about it.

Just as your breaths start to sound more like death rattles and you curl your face towards the ground, a warmth envelopes your back, arms circling your middle and lifting you up.

“Hey, breathe, breathe with me, Y/n. I’m here.”

You recognise the voice. You recognise the built torso holding you steady, but your mind isn’t putting the pieces together, and so you simply squeeze your eyes shut and allow yourself to be maneuvered around there are hands on your face and a deep voice instructing you to look at me. I’m here; look at me.

You crack your eyes open, body heaving with the effort it takes to get any oxygen in your lungs, but you’re met with the soulful brown eyes of Kim Namjoon, narrowed in concern.

His hands are warm despite the frigid air outside, and you let yourself melt into him, eyes sinking to watch his lips mouth instructions, demonstrating exaggerated breathing for you to follow.

You feel distinctly like you might vomit, but you force yourself to match his breaths. The shuddering in and stilted out aren’t as fluid as his, but slowly your heart doesn’t thud in your ears and your body doesn’t shake as violently.

You feel damp, sweating all over, and your whole body aches, but your hearing begins to properly tune in again, coherence creeping back. “Na-Namjoon,” you gasp, wishing you had the energy to grab his arms or hug him or something other than lying limp against the wall of the house.

“Shh, hey, don’t strain yourself. Take it easy. I’m here.” He’s crouching in front of you, eyes locked onto you as he continues to hold you steady, jaw kept aloft by his hands. “Keep breathing, and it’ll go away. It’s a panic attack, I’ve had my fair share. You’ll come right.”

Trusting him despite the persisting burn in your chest, you let him coach your breathing for several more minutes, the heightened air influx making your head go light and floaty.

Once a counted breath turns into a yawn of exhaustion, you know the worst has passed. It leaves you boneless, not a single ounce of power left in your muscles, but you can breathe again, and it’s all thanks to the man across from you.

“I’ve never had one before,” you manage, voice cracking, “not like that.”

Namjoon’s lips press together in sympathy, and he turns to prop himself against the side of the house beside you, letting you continue breathing independently. “Is it Yoongi-hyung?”

You nod weakly, and the academic hums in confirmation. “I used to get panic attacks a lot in university. I used to hate them, thought they meant I was weak. Like I couldn’t handle the pressure as much as I thought I could. But, you know, these days I just figure I’m only panicking because it means so much to me. And I don’t think that makes me weak at all. It just means I care. Don’t feel ashamed about this, Y/n. All it means is that you care about hyung a lot.”

All the breath in your lungs leaves you in one rush as you prop your head in your hands, knees tucked towards your chest. “Yeah.” You wish you had something more appreciative to say, but your mind is waterlogged, weighed down and not functioning.

Namjoon doesn’t seem to mind the curt response. “I care about him a lot too. He’s like the glue for us, isn’t he? I’m worried to fall apart without him here keeping us in line. But we survived before we knew him and we’ll survive now. What’s better is supporting each other and waiting to see how we can support Yoongi-hyung, too.”

“You’re right,” you admit with a heavy breath, wiggling your toes to will energy back into them. “We’ll be okay.”

Namjoon bends sideways to bump your shoulder warmly. “That’s the spirit. Now; I’m happy to stay out here as long as you need, but Jungkook was the first one to notice you had been gone for a while, and I think he’s probably getting concerned by now. If you’re up to it, I can give you a hand to get inside and join the others again. What do you reckon?”

You lean your head back against the wall, taking a moment to consider. “What movie is he putting on next?”

“He mentioned wanting to check out Paw Patrol on Netflix.”

“Let me die out here,” you plead weakly.

Namjoon laughs, the sound like comfort itself, and stands up, offering you a hand. “Come on, kitten, up we get.”

In the end, the Netflix viewings manage to distract you for the rest of the night. When your limbs are tangled together and snacks are flowing, it’s easy to tune out of reality a bit and focus on the television screen in the comfort of shared company. Jungkook clears space on the couch for you the second you return, and clings to you for hours, his chin on your shoulder. You don’t complain, feeling soothed by the physical closeness. But the hours pass, and when the majority of you can no longer hold in your yawns, Seokjin gets up to turn the lights back on and clean up.

“Let’s get some rest,” he decides, and it’s that return to the real world that immediately dampens the atmosphere again, the group of you turning solemn. You pause to pull out your phone, sending Yoongi a quick message of support, and that you all missed him already, but no reply comes.

Without words being spoken, the seven of you remaining find yourselves flocking together as you make your way up to bed. Jin flanks the maknae as Namjoon and Hoseok lean heavily into each other, the four of them disappearing into Jin’s room. You naturally fall into step with the remaining two men, Taehyung linking his arm into yours and holding you close all the way to Jimin’s room.

Somehow, the house is too quiet. Even though Yoongi wasn’t a particularly noisy housemate, his absence cloaks the air.

You have no energy to shower. Washing your face is as much as you can manage, and Taehyung is even more despairing than you are, slumped on the toilet seat as Jimin cleans his face for him.

The uncertainty is what makes your heart flutter on edge, unable to wind down, and you know from the restrained looks of fear and distress in the guys’ eyes that they feel the same. The show would be undoubtably ruined if Yoongi couldn’t return. But more important than that, Yoongi would be ruined if he lost his father so suddenly.

Knowing Yoongi is hurting makes you ache, and you cling to your lovers like they’re your anchors in a churning sea, tucking your face firmly into Taehyung’s shoulder. It soothes you a little to be pinned between them, but the three of you still lie awake as the minutes blink by agonisingly slow.

At some point, you must fall into a fitful sleep, because when a sudden noise fills the room, it rouses you aggressively, and you almost kick Jimin’s shin in the process. Grunting, the half-asleep man rubs his face and twists around, fumbling on the nightstand for the offending noise.

It’s Taehyung’s phone, vibrating against the wooden table, and once Jimin blinks twice at the glaring screen he gasps and yanks the charger out, sitting up in bed. “It’s hyung,” he declares in a voice more vulnerable than you’d ever heard from him before. “Wake Tae.”

You force yourself to dispel those last few wisps of sleep from your brain, and gently shake Taehyung awake. According to the clock on the nightstand, it’s almost two in the morning, but your heart leaps as Yoongi’s face fills the phone screen, looking right at the three of you.

“I thought you would be together,” he states with a rueful smile, though you can see that it doesn’t quite reach his reddened eyes. “Sorry for calling so late.”

“Don’t apologise, hyung,” Taehyung whines, half of his weight on you as he leans in close, “we were so worried about you. How’s your dad?”

Yoongi’s brows furrow beneath mussed hair. “Not great,” he admits. “A little more stable, at least, but he’s pretty confused right now. Nurses worry that it might have affected his brain.”

Your heart sinks, both at the thought of a relatively young man suffering such awful health complications, but also at how Yoongi was trying to hide his exhaustion and distress. “Oh my god.”

“Mm, we should know soon what the damage is,” Yoongi explains further, rubbing his eyes with the hand not holding his phone aloft, “and if he’s alright I can head back h- head back to the Villa. He’s just been sleeping a lot today so… We don’t really know how he’ll be until he’s conscious for enough time. Yoonji’s with him at the moment, I just wanted to duck out and give you guys an update. Where are the others?”

“Jin-hyung’s room,” Jimin answers, even as he’s throwing back the covers. “They’ll want to hear from you themselves, just hold on a minute.”

You hear Yoongi’s voice echoing from the phone and strain to make out his words as Jimin heads to the door. “No, no, don’t wake them. I actually wanted to ask if you’d like to come visit? Of course none of you know my dad, and he doesn’t know you, but- Well, Yoonji and I could do with some company.”

You jump up, rushing to Jimin’s side. As he naturally accommodates your presence and pulls you flush against him, you lift your face up to the phone. “We’ll be there,” you assure Yoongi, “just please get some rest tonight. It’s been a rough day.”

Yoongi’s pained smile breaks your heart, and Jimin leads the phone back to the bed so that Taehyung can say a final goodbye before the three of you hang up and crawl, exhausted but somewhat relieved, back into bed.

[maybe-theres-hope]

Those Four Words

So yeah I JUST finished Desperate Measures and I literally had to get this out before I could sleep. 

5.03 Coda | 1.6k | Summary: How I would love to see them get their shit together. Title from the episode, referring to Eddie saying “We need to talk” because YES YOU FUCKING DO. *puts on clown nose*

Buck finds Eddie sulking on the bench in the locker room. Because this was becoming a pretty common occurrence as of late, he takes it on himself to do the best friend thing he always does, and walks in to sit beside him. 

The fact that Eddie doesn’t automatically look up at him with annoyance--like he has most of the time Buck has done this in the past few weeks, when they both know what the conversation is going to sound like--is unsettling but not off-putting.

“Hey,” is his opener. Quiet and courteous of Eddie’s obvious pain. Buck’s good at this best friend thing. Had a lot of practice lately.

He gets nothing in reply for long, long moments. He waits it out. Eddie’s a closed-off guy at the best of times, but when he’s hurting, it’s like a steel wall is up between him and the world. Buck’s taken a sledgehammer to that wall a few times and it hasn’t ended pretty. Lately he’s been just simply knocking at it, hoping the man on the other side can hear that he’s not alone. That’s all he can do. 

Then, “I broke up with Ana. Like. Officially.”

Buck is quiet for a moment. “Was there an...unofficial breakup before that?”

“I don’t know. Probably when I panicked twice in front of her at the mere mention of us as a family. Think that set off a few warning bells in her.”

Buck very carefully remains silent. 

“Well, actually. I don’t know if it did because...she was pretty devastated when I told her it wasn’t going to work. Like she didn’t see it coming after all.”

“What did you tell her? At the official breakup, I mean.” Buck doesn’t move, doesn’t speak above a low tone that barely breaches the two-foot divide between them. 

“Not the truth, that’s for damn sure. But. Something maybe close to it.” Eddie still hasn’t looked at him. His hand is half-over his eyes, fingers pressing at his temples like he’s trying to stave off a migraine. Buck’s presence is sometimes migraine inducing, he knows, but he doesn’t think he’s ever done it to Eddie.

...Maybe?

Nah. 

Hopefully not.

“What’s...something like the truth?” he asks.

“Basically that I thought I could grow to love her eventually. I tried hard to do that, but...it’s never going to happen. I know it’s not.”

Buck remains silent, waiting.

“She...she’s not stupid. She figured out that what was sending me into...whatever was happening to me--”

Buck very pointedly does not point out that what was happening were full blown panic attacks, Eddie--

“--was triggered by the thought of a future with her. It’s not even that she’s a bad prospect. She’s perfect, actually. In every way except that she’s not... Nevermind.”

“So, she was good with Christopher, right? I mean, you said she was--” Buck’s concern is hard to hide. If she did anything to hurt Christopher or make him feel...any type of way, Buck will be livid. But he doesn't think that’s the case. He even likes Ana. She’s nice, friendly, caring. She’s just...

“She’s just not for me.”

Buck can clearly see this is distressing Eddie to the nth degree, but he doesn’t know how to fix it. He’s never had to save a relationship before. And is that what he should be doing? Sure, he’s great at this best friend thing and he wants his friend to be happy--more than anything in the world--but he’s at a loss as to what the actual problem is here.

“But Eddie, you said yourself she’d make a great mother for Chr--”

“He doesn’t need another mother! He had one, and she’s gone. He doesn’t need another.” The raised voice makes Buck pause for a moment. It’s the loudest either of them have spoken the entire time, and he’s sure it has a lot to do with the Shannon of it all, but...it doesn’t seem like that’s the whole thing. 

“I don’t know why I tried to force it. I knew it wasn’t going to work from day one. But she’s just...she was the best alternative.”

“Alternative to what? Eddie, what--”

“I’m in love with someone else! Okay? And I know I should have told her that, but I couldn’t. I can’t even...” he cuts himself off with a huff, but for the first time, he looks up to meet Buck’s gaze. His eyes are shining, but he’s not sad. He’s frustrated. Buck’s learned to tell the difference over the years. 

Best friend and all.

He weighs his options, because this is brand new information to him, which is saying something, and he’s not quite sure where to go from here.

Sure, he absolutely knows where he wants this to go, but. He’s also learned over the years that that’s just...not in the cards. Not for Buck, anyway.

Finally, he opens his mouth again. “I...didn’t know you were seeing anyone else besides Ana. Thought you two were, like, a serious thing.” Understatement of the year. How on earth was Eddie seeing someone that Buck didn’t know about? They practically lived out of each other’s pockets half the time. 

Eddie huffs out a small, horrible laugh. “I’m not. Seeing anyone. In that sense, anyway. Though we do see a lot of each other. A disgusting amount, if I’m being honest.” The laugh he lets out here is not horrible. It’s almost...fond. 

“O...kay.” Somewhere inside, Buck’s heart falters. “So, what’s the problem? Do they...not feel the same way?”

Another huff of a laugh. “Dunno. I never asked.” Eddie’s back to rubbing his temples again, almost hiding his face on purpose. 

“Alright, well, that should probably be step one.” Buck can’t keep the hint of scolding out of his tone, but he can see that it makes Eddie smile. “I can help you, if you want?”

This makes Eddie smile even wider, but it turns sad in an instant. “I know you would. But you can’t.”

Buck takes a moment--or several--to consider himself. To weigh all his options and arrive at a logical and sensible conclusion.

Who is he kidding? Buck opens his mouth on impulse, praying to every deity he’s ever heard of that he’s not wrong and he’s not about to ruin everything.

“I can try.” Another small laugh from Eddie in response, a hopeless, resigned one. “Eddie.” When he gets no reaction, he tries again. He really needs eye contact for this, no matter how much he knows Eddie hates it during emotional conversations. “Eddie.”

Slowly, Eddie’s eyes meet his. Buck goes for broke. 

“Step one. Ask.”

Eddie stares at him for a moment, no discernible change in his features. Buck’s eyes plead with him. And then, it’s like Buck can watch the switch flip behind his eyes. When he catches up to what’s being said here. 

Buck holds his breath for what feels like ages and feels his skin grow cold with shame because he was wrong, he was wrong, he was so so wrong--

“Are--” Eddie begins, strained. Buck’s heart stops. “Are we--” Buck’s sure his heart can’t actually stop twice, but it definitely does at this addition. 

His eyes are glued to Eddie’s, though. Like magnets. Pulling in the only direction they can ever go. The way the universe wills them. 

Eddie seems to come back to himself for a moment, flicking his eyes to the glass. Buck’s eyes tear themselves away to look at what’s caught his attention. The entire B shift and some of the A are still milling around outside. 

“Are we really going to do this here?” is the question Eddie actually poses to him. But, when Buck’s eyes snap back to their target, he sees something that kickstarts his heart again, and he lets out the breath he’d been deliberately holding for the last 45 seconds, give or take. Eddie’s tiny, timid smile seals the deal. 

“We could go to my place?” Buck offers. Tries desperately not to think about what could happen. What he wants to happen. 

“I need to get home to Christopher.” Eddie’s standing, grabbing his duffel. Buck’s nodding, because yeah, that’s true. He scrubs his mind of the...thoughts that were just playing through it.

“And so do you,” is what’s tacked onto the end, just thrown out there, like it’s the most normal, logical thing in the world. Eddie’s face is still a little timid when Buck looks up, but his own face must give away his heart because Eddie’s smile after that is radiant. He hands Buck his own bag, also giving him a hand up off the bench.

Yeah, his legs are a little wobbly. Good best friend actions, Eddie. Thanks. 

Though. Buck doesn’t know if that term still applies. Are they friends? Are they more now? But they haven’t talked about anything so, like, they’re not anything yet, right? But Eddie said he was in love with--

His thoughts halt when Eddie lands a small kiss to his lips, there and gone again in a nanosecond and wow, that had no right to be as earth-shattering as it was, it was just a peck, for Christ’s sake, and--

“Buck. Get your shit and lets go, yeah?”

“Yeah. Yeah, yeah. Yeah.” Smooth. 

But Eddie’s smiling. For real this time. Buck will take that.

lbr, the show wouldn’t acknowledge Taylor during this conversation. It’d be wrapped up the next episode and she would storm out and never be heard from again. Definitely NOT how I’d want that to go, but. We all know it would. *honks clown nose*

[theres-an-impulstor-among-us]

Hi there!

I finally have an idea for the sequel to the angst! By the way, it really did help. Less strong emotions :D

Anyways, idea. Woot woot-

Wels, as a kind of revenge for the death of Hels, wants to save some other helsmits from the world that is Hels. Because it sucks there. He ends up secluding himself from the server to try this. When somebody goes to check on him, they find an obsidian portal frame with a firey red portal contained within. Queue Wels and another Helsmit conveniently coming through, and Wels having to quickly explain before the Hermit tells X-

this is a long boi!!! lol

first part here

...

This is it. This is the moment Wels has been waiting for. After weeks of hiding out in his house, doing experiment after experiment, he’s finally managed to create a portal directly to Helscraft. Now he can finally start on his mission.

He steps through the portal and finds himself facing a bridge across a gigantic ravine with lava at the bottom. On the other side is a mountain made of netherrack and magma blocks, some of which are on fire.

Shivering, he crosses the bridge slowly, one step at a time, keeping a wary eye out for any helsmits around. There doesn’t seem to be any.

Until he steps off the bridge, glances up, and happens to spot a familiar person sitting in a “tree” made of soul sand and bone blocks. Familiar except red eyes, red streaks in his hair, a much shorter stature, and black-and-magenta dragon-like wings.

“Hi,” he says cautiously.

“Helsknight…?” The person narrows their eyes. “Why do you look different?”

“I’m not Helsknight, I’m his hermit counterpart.”

The helsmit blinks in surprise. “Welsknight? What are you doing here in Helscraft?”

“Are you Grian’s helsmit?” asks Wels, avoiding the question.

“...surely you can tell,” the helsmit scoffs. “Yeah, I’m Xelqua, Grian’s helsmit. Why’re you here? Where’s Helsknight?”

Again, Wels tries to avoid the question. “Were you… close to Helsknight?”

“Not really.” Xelqua again narrows his eyes. “What do you mean by that? Where IS he?”

“He’s…” Wels hesitates and bows his head. “I’m really sorry, but he… he passed away.”

He hears a sharp intake of breath from Xelqua.

“I’m sorry,” he says uselessly.

“Why are you here?”

Wels looks back up at Xelqua. “What?”

“WHY ARE YOU HERE?” demands Xelqua loudly. “What, is it not enough that we exist here in this HELLISH place?! You wanna come here and take it over too?! Drive us out AGAIN?!”

“I- No!” Wels hurriedly shakes his head. “No no no! I came here to invite you back to Hermitcraft.”

A flash of shock flickers over Xelqua’s face. “Why the hell would you do that?”

“Because Helsknight wanted all of you to be free. He sacrificed himself for me, so I’m carrying on his dream.” Wels offers his hand to the helsmit. “Xelqua, come with me to Hermitcraft. I can get you a better life there.”

“Wow.” Xelqua appears not to know how to react to this unexpected offer. “What do you get in return?”

“Nothing.”

Xelqua rolls his eyes. “SURE.”

“No, really,” Wels insists. “I want to help you, all of you. I’m not asking for anything in return. I just want you guys to have a better life.”

Xelqua regards Wels with a half-suspicious look. “Why me, of all the helsmits?”

“I want to save all of you at some point. You seem like a good place to start.”

The helsmit doesn’t appear to have a response to this.

“Please, Xelqua,” says Wels softly. “Give me a chance.”

Xelqua is silent for a while as he processes this in his head. Finally, he says, “Okay. I won’t turn down a chance to go to Hermitcraft.”

Wels can’t help an excited smile. “Great! You won’t regret it.”

When Xelqua hops down from the “tree”, Wels is surprised to discover that the helsmit is only just half his height. The height of a child, despite looking almost exactly like Grian.

“Okay, come this way,” he says.

He leads Xelqua back down the bridge and over to the portal. “Will you be able to come through?” he asks.

“I dunno, you’re the brainiac hermit,” Xelqua responds. “Will I die if I go through?”

“Not inherently, but…”

Xelqua shrugs. “Whatever. Death is better than another day in Helscraft anyway. YOLO.”

Wels blinks as Xelqua steps through the portal. Did he just say… YOLO?!

He hurriedly follows Xelqua. As soon as he steps foot in his house on the other side, however, he sees Xelqua frozen on the platform. When he steps forward, he sees why.

One of his friends is standing at the bottom of the staircase, staring at him in shock and horror.

Wels blinks, his heart starting to pound. “...J-Jevin. Hi. You’re in my house.”

“Of course I’m in your dang house, Wels!” snaps Jevin. “You haven’t been seen on the server for WEEKS! And now you come out of a demonic nether portal with a DEMON?!”

Wels quickly pushes Xelqua behind him. “He’s not a demon, Jev. His name is Xelqua. He’s Grian’s helsmit.”

Jevin’s eyes widen and he steps back.

Wels sees his friend’s muscles bunching. “Jev, no…!”

Jevin takes another step back.

“JEV.”

“Somehow a demon would have been BETTER!” yells Jevin, before taking off running.

Wels sprints after him. He’s a lot faster than Jevin so he’s able to tackle his friend to the ground at the top of the stairs.

“Jev, wait!” Wels grunts, trying to hold his squirming friend down. “Hear me out!”

“Are you INSANE?!” Jevin shrieks back. “WHY would you bring a helsmit here?!”

As Wels is about to respond, a dry voice comes from behind them. “Now I know why you said you wanted to avoid this guy, Wels.”

Wels twists his head upwards to find Xelqua standing over them, arms folded. “I didn’t say-.”

“The hell’s that supposed to mean?” demands Jevin, disentangling himself from Wels.

The hint of a smirk is visible on Xelqua’s face. “He said you were pretty close-minded and quick to jump to conclusions.”

“I never said-!”

Wels is cut off as Jevin jumps to his feet and jabs his finger at Xelqua. “You shut your mouth. You’re not even supposed to be here!”

“I’m not the one judging someone I just met based on their nature of birth, Slime Face,” retorts Xelqua.

“If you call me that again, I’m gonna ram my fist in your eye,” Jevin growls.

Xelqua lifts his chin challengingly. “Go for it. I’m not afraid to fight an old man.”

As Jevin moves suddenly, Wels gets between them and holds his friend back. “Okay, STOP it! Both of you! Jev, be the bigger person here.”

“I AM the bigger person!” Jevin snaps back. “Literally!”

“Wow, a short joke,” Xelqua says expressionlessly. “Original. You proud of that one, Slime Face? You feel funny? Clever?”

Jevin’s hands curl into fists. “Wels, you better explain yourself before I punt this obnoxious kid straight into the goddamn sun.”

“Your stupid slimey foot would go right through me,” Xelqua responds immediately.

“Right, that’s it.”

Wels has to strain against Jevin to stop his friend from physically attacking Xelqua. “JEVIN. STOP.”

“Explain yourself, then!”

Wels quickly draws Jevin aside into the next room. “Look.” He takes a deep breath. “I spent months befriending my helsmit, learning about how he dreamt of freeing his siblings from their torturous existence, only for him to die before even being able to start on his dream. Helsmits aren’t inherently evil, Jev. Helsknight grew as a person right in front of me. With the right environment and people surrounding them, they can become good.”

He pauses, his gaze dropping to the floor. “Even if I can only change one helsmit’s life for the better then maybe Helsknight’s death didn’t have to be meaningless.”

Jevin gazes back at him, an odd expression on his face.

“Just…” Wels sighs quietly. “Please don’t tell Xisuma until I’m ready. If he finds out about this before Xelqua makes any noticeable improvements, he’ll have him thrown back to Helscraft and all this will be for nothing. Helsknight’s dream can’t die like that. I can’t… I can’t lose him all over again.”

A short pause follows his words.

Finally, Jevin unfolds his arms and says, “Okay. How can I help?”

“By not treating me like a stupid kid,” comes Xelqua’s voice.

Jevin turns to find the helsmit poking his head through the doorway. “Wasn’t talking to you, Parrot Boy.”

“I’m not a parrot,” Xelqua says. “I’m a dragon.”

“Sure.”

Scowling, Xelqua extends his jet black and magenta wings. “My wings are dragon wings.”

“Whatever you say, Parrot Boy.”

Xelqua glares at him and doesn’t respond.

Jevin raises an eyebrow. “Nicknames hurt, huh?”

“Jev,” sighs Wels. “You’re the adult here.”

“Why AM I the adult here?” Jevin demands. “If he’s Grian’s helsmit, why is he still a kid?”

Xelqua stomps his foot. “I’m not a kid!”

Ignoring him, Wels replies, “Helsmits are only born once a person becomes a hermit. Grian’s only been a hermit for a few years, so Xelqua hasn’t had a chance to grow up yet.”

“Hey, I’m PERFECTLY grown up!” snaps Xelqua. “I already know how to kill things without spilling much blood and how to steal stuff from a chest from right under someone’s nose.”

Wels and Jevin exchange a slightly concerned look.

“But you never had a normal childhood?” asks Jevin.

“I’M NOT A CHILD!” yells Xelqua angrily.

Jevin persists: “Have you ever even seen grass?”

Xelqua scowls. “...what’s grass?”

“Okay…” Jevin pauses for a moment. “Come up this way.”

As he goes to the door, Wels starts to speak: “Jev-.”

“I’ll be careful,” says Jevin reassuringly. “Come on, kid.”

Clearly deciding not to argue anymore, Xelqua follows Jevin out of the house. As soon as he gets outside, he glances up and immediately jumps almost a foot in the air. “What is that?!”

Jevin quickly identifies where he’s looking. “The sun.”

“That’s not the sun,” scoffs Xelqua.

“It is.”

Xelqua shields his eyes from the sunlight and squints up at the sky. “But it’s not hurting my skin.”

“It will if you stay out in it too long.” Jevin pauses. “Why, what’s your sun like?”

“Volatile,” Xelqua responds. “If it’s in a bad mood, it’ll set you on fire as soon as you step out in it. Which is almost every day.”

Jevin blinks. “Your sun is sentient?”

“Trust me, that’s not the weirdest thing that’s sentient in Helscraft.”

“Do I wanna ask?”

“Nope.” Xelqua lowers his hand. “So what’s this grass thing you mentioned?”

Jevin gestures at the ground. “What you’re standing on.”

“Really? This is grass?” Xelqua hops up and down on it a few times. “I thought it’d be a bit more interesting.”

“Lie down on it.”

Xelqua shoots him a suspicious look. “Why?”

“Just do it.”

After a moment, Xelqua lies down flat on the grass. “Okay, now what?”

“Look up at the sky,” Jevin responds. “See those clouds?”

Xelqua frowns up at the sky. “The grey things?”

“Yeah. Do you have clouds?”

“Not like those. Ours are spikey and red and rain lava.”

“Oh jeez…” Jevin shivers. “Well, these ones won’t hurt you. Just watch them for a while.”

“Okay…”

The two fall silent. Jevin watches the clouds himself for a while, before turning back to Xelqua, whose expression is almost completely blank. “So?”

“Weirdly, this is nice,” admits Xelqua. “It’s a bizarre concept to not be afraid of every single thing around me.” As if on cue, a few raindrops start to fall from the sky. Xelqua hops up as the rain gets heavier and dives between Jevin’s feet, clutching Jevin’s leg tightly. “WHAT IS THIS?!” he shrieks.

“It’s just rain!” Jevin reassures him, gently stroking his wings. “Don’t worry, it’s just rain. Just water. It won’t hurt you.”

After a moment, Xelqua sticks out his hand and lets some raindrops fall on it. When it doesn’t hurt him, he carefully emerges from his shelter and hovers just above the ground, closing his eyes against the rain falling on his face. A smile appears on his face and he shoots upwards, his beating wings scattering raindrops everywhere.

Shielding his eyes from the rain, Jevin laughs as he watches Xelqua shoot up through the clouds and dive back down several times. It’s like watching a foal discover how to run for the first time.

“How’s it going out here?” asks Wels, emerging from the building. Immediately, he lifts his arms to shield his head from the rain. “Oh! It doesn’t rain often on this server.”

Jevin continues to gaze up at Xelqua far above him. “...Wels?”

“Yeah?”

“This kid really needs a better life.”

Wels nods. “He does. They all do. This is what Helsknight wanted: for the helsmits to have the same opportunities as us. The same expansive resource-rich world to explore, not the barren hellscape they’re forced to live in year after year. To be able to live and grow without worrying about being robbed or hurt or attacked or murdered by the world and people around them. They have so much potential that’s not being realised because they’re stuck in literal hell. I won’t rest until they’re all as free as Helsknight almost was.”

After a brief pause, he glances over at Jevin and finds his friend smiling at him. He chuckles. “What’s that look for?”

“I’ve never seen you this passionate before,” says Jevin softly. “It’s nice.”

“It IS nice,” Wels agrees. “I haven’t had a cause like this to fight for in a long time.”

Jevin pats his friend on the shoulder. “If you ever need help with Xelqua, lemme know.”

Wels glances at him in surprise. “You want to help with Xelqua?”

“Yeah, I really do.”

“Why?”

As Jevin starts to respond, Xelqua suddenly lands on the ground in front of them, soaking wet. “What are you two nattering about?” he demands. “Come fly up here with me!”

“We can’t fly when it’s raining this heavily, Xelqua,” responds Wels. “It’s too wet for our elytras to work properly.”

“Oh.” Xelqua rolls his eyes. “You guys are lame.”

Wels raises an eyebrow back. “Mhm.”

As Xelqua takes off again, Jevin says, “To answer your question Wels, I want to help because I can tell Xelqua has the potential to be a good kid. He’s got some problems I wanna help iron out.”

“Wow, I…” Wels smiles gratefully. “I’d love the help. Thank you.”

At that moment, Xelqua reappears through the rain and holds out a shovel to the two. “I stole this from a chest in that guy’s house over there,” he says proudly. “He didn’t see me.”

“That’d be Beef’s house,” Wels sighs.

As Wels reaches for the shovel, Xelqua sharply steps back, hugging the shovel protectively.

Wels shakes his head. “You don’t have to steal things here, Xelqua. We’ll help you get your own stuff.”

“Oh…” Xelqua reluctantly relinquishes his prize to Wels.

“Thank you,” says Wels gently. “Do you want your own shovel?”

After a moment, Xelqua nods.

Wels smiles, feeling strong paternal instincts towards the kid.

“Okay, let’s get you a shovel.”

[solcheeky]

our secret

summary: fratboy!donghyuck turns paperboy! when he needs some extra money for college stuff like textbooks. he thinks delivering way outside of campus will save face from being a measly paperboy, but little does he know, the front yard light he hits (and breaks) belongs to his significantly well off classmate... (3k)

warnings: strong language here and there genre: enemies to ..friends? a/n: I’ve merged these two requests together! meaning I have and haven’t included aspects of each, hope that’s okay! (2021 edit: hi I found this in my drafts from last year and idk why I never posted it so yeah, here we go)

“You’re late.” Your professor calls out as Donghyuck fails to sneak into lecture hall unnoticed

You sigh, you’d think he’d at least look ashamed to step foot into class at such a late time

You suppose with Lee Donghyuck, things were always different

The boy winces comically, inhaling between his teeth brazenly, and students stifle their laughter

Then with a simple raise of his hand, he gestures a flimsy ‘my bad’ and a ‘continue, continue’ before charmingly wiping the sweat off his brow and sitting in the empty seat saved by his friends

The professor frowns, “you’re late.” He repeats as if to encourage the young rebel to at least say something

“I’m Haechan,” the rebel says under his breath, flopping his backpack onto the desk, “not ‘late’” a sarcastic smile stretching his lips as his friends snicker at his dumb joke

You roll your eyes, he was unbelievable.

“Alright, alright, that’s enough.” The professor claps his hands. “And Mr. Late,” he emphasizes, “don’t think you’re getting away with anything.”

So he drops it on him like a bomb: “For the rest of this week, meet me in the office an hour before classes start.”

The grin on Donghyuck’s face immediately wipes off his face and his heart drops to his stomach

“Prof!” He whines back

Karma, you think. That’s what he gets for being so up his own ass

It wouldn’t kill him to wake up a little bit earlier. He relied so much on his ‘so loveable’ personality and popularity, you couldn’t stand it

If you even attempted to do half the things he got away with, you’d be expelled by now

You drop your pen and lean back into your seat with a sigh, you had no choice but to sit back and watch him waste valuable lesson time over this insolence

“You can’t do that!” Seriously, Donghyuck would do anything else other than doing extra hours in the morning

“And you can’t be late to my lectures all the time. What are you not getting here Mr. Late?”

“But I can’t.” Donghyuck immediately regrets saying that out loud like that; the vulnerability in his voice a little too close to home

“And, why not?” Your professor bounces back thankfully brushing past the genuine desperation in his students voice

The reason why not was something ‘Lee Haechan’ couldn’t say out loud. If he did, he’d lose everything

So instead, he sticks with his usual tongue-in-cheek mannerism, “because I don’t want to.”—A sneaky beat around the bush on his part because, little did everyone know, Lee Haechan, the star player and everyone’s favorite goofball, was a measly paperboy

Why?

Because he was dumb broke.

It was a job that required him waking up extra early to race around neighborhoods on his bike, something he had to do regardless rain or sun just tossing as many papers onto people's front porches,

Something he already was finding so much of a difficulty doing: racing to class and acting as if his muscles weren’t burning or the fabric under is backpack wasn’t drenched in sweat

But now this ‘meet me in the office an hour earlier than classes start’ bullshit

That would mean he’d have to wake up even earlier than he already did!

“Doesn’t matter if you don’t want to, you’re going to.” Is the last thing your professor says on that topic before swiftly moving on.

Oh to be born with a silver spoon in his mouth, is what he always thinks as he cycles his rounds in the wealthy neighborhood

If there was one thing he didn’t have, it was this. 

He looks at the blaringly affluent homes that surrounded him and heaves another sigh, the same road he rides every morning (and now this extra early morning) effortlessly reminding him of how absolutely poor his ass was

Grumbling under his breath in a tantrum about his professor in his head, he angrily hurls newspapers onto doorsteps

It was the fact that he had to deal with this at ungodly hours in the morning—as if this job wasn’t already enough

Donghyuck frustratedly hurls another newspaper, but this time around, it shoots straight into someone's front garden post light, knocking it over and completely disrupting the perfect order in which the other trail of foot lights were set in

What the heck?

Immediately, he hits the breaks, his tires screeching loudly in the quietness of the early morning

Profanities frantically leave his lips as he hurriedly drops his bike onto the sidewalk in a clatter, and runs ahead to see the damage he’s made

The lamp was perfectly struck to its side.

Well, that’s just great—he can’t afford college textbooks let alone the broken path lamp on some rich persons lawn

So, his first thoughts are to pull it back into the place, completely irrational, but it’s the only thing that runs through his mind when he’s on a time crunch to get off private property

Except, the damn thing is stuck; literally cemented into this lopsided tilt

Man, Donghyuck swears he could tug all day and it wouldn’t get back into place

It was like the universe was having fun being against him

You, on the other hand, were watching this boy struggle to fix your light back into place from the comfort of your window.

He looked ridiculously cute trying to tug that lamp back into place, curled almost into a ball in the middle of your lawn, his eyebrows sewn into a line of frustration and lips pursed

You knew he was your paperboy from the start of his laborious cycling trips, but did Donghyuck know he was delivering papers to his very own classmate every morning?

You guess not.

...Until now

You knock three times from behind the glass, successfully capturing the boy's attention before mouthing, “what are you doing?”

The agitation on his features drops and immediately his eyes widen at your familiar face

Except, he isn’t given much time to reply before the lamp between his fingers gives in to his weight and recoils back smacking him right in the nose

“Holy shit!” You forget you’re only in socks when you open your front door and race towards him

Donghyuck automatically drops the (now broken) piece of your lawn to cup his bruising face

“Ah- Fucking shit- Ow!” He bends forwards on his knees into the grass, forehead pressing into your lawn before he rocks back up again to scrunch a deep frown up towards the sky. “Jesus-”

“Are you okay?!” Dropping to your knees, you place a cautious hand to his back

“Yes.” He groans into his palms, rocking back down towards the grass again

He definitely wasn’t.

But he needed to get out of there quick; there’s no way he’d let you recognize him

Yeah, you weren’t that stupid.

“Let me see,” you carefully bring him up by his shoulders, your head leaning down towards his to see the damage

“No- Ow! Crap-”

“You’re bleeding!” You try to pry at his wrists but he rips away from your hands

That’s when Donghyuck finally looks up to scowl at you; a frown stitched hard into into his forehead, eyes watering, hair all ruffled, but most alarmingly—a scarlet ribbon of blood running down his wrists

“I’m okay.” He muffles into his hands.

And wow did he look like an idiot.

“Sorry about your-” 

“Jesus Hyuck, you’re not fooling anyone.”

The boy visibly stiffens at your choice of his name

“Haechan.” You quickly correct yourself

He gulps

You glance away

“Let’s just put an ice-pack on that.” Then you’re dragging him into your house

“Quit moving!” You dab a wet cloth across the cut above Donghyuck’s lip

“Well, it hurts.” He tries to complain without moving his mouth too much

You purse your lips and Donghyuck attempts to adjust the ice pack on his nose despite your warning

With a sigh, you take his wrist and bring his arm down to his lap, “Hyuck, if you keep-” you feel him stiffen under your touch. “Haechan.” You keep doing that. “Sorry.”

He just diverts his eyes elsewhere and mumbles, “It’s whatever.” under his breath

So, you bring your attention back to cleaning his cut, your cheeks heating up at the thought of how much of a creep you probably were by calling him by his old name

“I’m-”

“Y/n.” His voice was a little clearer this time, a soft frown on his face, “I remember.”

He kind of wished you didn’t though. This was so embarrassing.

You pull the cloth away from his reddening cheeks, that annoyed flustered look on his face pulling at the nostalgia in you

It was only natural to call him ‘Hyuck’ because you had been going to the same school as him for years

Ever since you were kids, through highschool and now somehow, still impossibly in college, you’ve been with him

You almost had every class with the loud idiot back when he was still ‘Donghyuck’

For as long as you could remember, he had always been the center of gravity in every class, his punchy personality and almost too friendly way of speaking easily giving him the ‘popular’ tag 

It made you have a bit of a crush on him when you were younger, but who didn’t? 

Now, you found him irritating. 

The only thought you had about him consisted of wishing he’d stop using his status to his advantage and just come to class right instead of wasting your lesson time

“Can I ask you something?” He dodges your hand for a second, eyes looking down as if to hide away his embarrassment 

“Sure,” you naturally reach forward again to dab his cut, but he stops you at the wrist

“Can you,” you lift your focus away from his lip to the slight grimace on his face, “not tell anyone about this?”

You blink at him, and a muscle works in his jaw

“Seriously, people can’t know about this.” 

But you simply pull your wrist out of his grip and go back to tending to his wound

You hadn’t told anyone since you’d found he was your paperboy, and that was weeks ago. So why was he so worked up?

Hadn’t the situation already called for it anyway? Who in their right mind would tell anyone after this? For you, it was obviously common courtesy

But before you can reply, he tilts his face into your line of vision. “Are you listening to me?” The frown on his face deepens and he instantly brings the ice pack in this hand over his face at the sudden pain through his nose

That attitude of his easily drove you crazy.

“That was a stupid question.” You give up on cleaning the blood on his lip and push the ice-pack deeper into his face, “if you used that stupid, egotistical brain of yours-”

“Ah! Ow- Ooow-”

“Maybe you’d realize I’ve never told anyone about your paper rounds before.”

“Ow!” He wrenches away from your frustrated grip, the look on his face just as annoyed as you. “You’re going to break my nose!” 

“You broke my yard lamp!”

He looks at you with a huff; a slight puff to his reddened cheeks, furrowed brows and tears ever so slightly brimming his eyes

If that lamp didn’t cost about five times the price of his bike he’d say something back.

You easily read that off his expression

“You don’t have to pay for it.” You start to pack up the first-aid kit you’d opened up on your coffee table just to not look at him in the eyes when you say that

As much as he irritated you, you weren’t that petty

“Really?” The genuine doubt in his face relaxing the annoyance in you a little

“Yeah.” Money wasn’t a problem for you, it was his attitude

But the casualness Donghyuck catches in your tone reminds him of the starkly different worlds you live in

So he musters it up within himself to at least show some kind of gratitude, “...Thanks.” 

And it’s almost inaudible when he says it under his breath like that

But you catch it as you pull a bandaid out of the box before you close it

“On one condition.” You turn to look at him dead in the eyes.

One of his brows slightly quirk up in interest

“Hand.”

He opens his palm to you and you purposely slap the bandaid into it.

“Stop coming late to class, you’re wasting everyone's time.”

Instantly, his jaw goes slack. 

Unable to say anything he stares as you rise from your seat in content, first aid kit in hand, before walking behind the sofa towards the kitchen

You didn’t have to say it like that.

He swings an elbow over the back of the couch, “Sorry for bringing you the paper every morning!” Maybe he was a little offended

You turn on your heels to face him, noticing the bandaid now crushed in the fist of the hand he had over the couch and ice-pack abandoned on the coffee table (the full glory of his bruising nose and cut lip on show)

“I said ‘don’t be late’ not ‘don’t bring me the paper’.” Then you disappear into the kitchen.

Donghyuck has to close his eyes for a second, exhaling a frustrated sigh before standing up in a huff and following your footsteps.

How could you say something so insensitive? Yeah, maybe he broke your lamp or whatever, but he tried to fix it!

And sure, he was sort of bleeding over your couch and used your ice pack, but he totally said thanks

“That’s just- You’re so,” He’s standing at the doorway by the time you’re done, bandaid still stuck in the frustrated grip of his hand

“So what, Hyuck?”

Seeing the all star, team favorite class clown crumble at the simple play of his old nickname made something in your stirr

“Insufferable.” 

You? Your lips turn up in amusement. He was the insufferable one, you almost scoff

“You and your big house, fancy first aid kit, stupid lamps on your lawn,” he takes a bold step forward at every reason until he’s one step to being chest to chest, “I’m just trying to do my job, and go to class.”

You look at him straight in the eyes. “Well, you’re hardly succeeding at either of those.”  

You...

Donghyuck runs his tongue across his inner cheek before biting down on his bottom lip in a brazen attempt to act unfazed by that fatal side comment

A coppery, metal taste pricks his tongue, and he realizes he’s reopened up the cut on his lip again

But that was the least of his worries. You had no idea what it was like being broke. If there was anything he didn’t have, it was everything you did. You probably couldn’t even fathom the type of shit he’s had to go through and even more so: hide.

The way you acted as if his biggest problem in life was as easy as brushing the dust of his shoulder just pissed him off.

“Have you ever thought of waking up earlier?” 

Ah, there it was again, Donghyuck wants to roll his eyes

“I sleep late.” He says dryly.

“Then sleep earlier.”

“I have other shit to do, like study.” 

“Then, manage your time better.” If he really wanted to ‘do his job’ and ‘get to class’, he could’ve done it by now.

He was always messing about with friends and organizing parties, stories spread around like wildfire on campus about the things he occupied himself with other than ‘having shit to do like studying’, you weren’t stupid

It was by the end of high school, when you began to see him as a person who valued himself with the amount of friends knew or the amount of partying he did

And at first you were mad that he had the things you never did, but seeing him easily get washed up by it all made you think maybe you didn’t need what he had

Now you figure his ego was so far up his ass he couldn’t even sit right—that’s probably why he couldn’t cycle to class on time

“And don’t use your bike, you’re clearly slow on it.” You tack on.

“I don’t even have a car!” He snaps back

He made you want to pull out your own hair. “Jeez, first this, then that, god Hyuck, you keep-”

“You say that as if it were so easy,” his words overlapping yours as you continue

“-making up so much bullshit because the only thing you really put effort into is your image,” Your words running over his too.

“-if I could get a car, don’t you think I’d have one already?”

“Then I’ll just take you!” That puts both of you to a stop.

“So, quit giving me stupid excuses to ruin my lectures every day.” If the things money could buy were what he needed, you had it

You snatch the bandaid out of his fist, rip it open and harshly stick it across his bottom lip. It was annoying to see him ignore it like that.

“You usually finish an hour before class right?” You frown up at him

Donghyuck opens his mouth then closes it again.

“Because if you reroute and make me the last house, I’ll take you with me by car.”

“What?” He manages to say. What the hell just happened?

a/n: okay so there was a lot more to the story and character development but it ran too long I had to cut it off bc I cba to edit lmao 

also I seemed to have gone way out of the request lines near the end my bad my bad, but I at least hope you’ve enjoyed it! thoughts???? a part 2?

[bl00dgutsgl0ry]

A Childhood Promise

Pairing - Childe/Tartaglia/Ajax x Reader

Warnings - None I don’t think

Word Count - 2.5k

Other Comments - I hate posting on Tumblr I’m not gonna lie to you guys. Trying to get this shit to post has been so hard. Please I just want a crumb of recognition tumblr. Let people see my posts.

      Life used to be so simple when you were younger. You had a lovely close knit family, you went to a great school, you had great friends. All around you were a happy little kid. The best thing you will ever remember from your childhood was your best friend Ajax. Everything was so simple.

Ajax was the poster child of a “perfect kid”. He was well liked by his teachers and peers, he had superb grades, he was becoming a young prodigy in his combat class, and above all, he was your all time best friend. You two were inseparable ever since you had met when your parents had all gotten to know each other once at an event.

     No one ever really saw one of you without the other, and if they ever did come across such a sight, it would never last long. You two also almost went through the entirety of school being in the same class, and if you weren’t, Ajax would always find a way to catch you right as you were being dismissed. You two had the most innocent yet cliché childhood friendship, as you two played with each other or hung out day after day.

     “One day (y/n) I’m going to marry you! I promise!” Ajax enveloped you in a hug as the two of you giggled.

     This lasted for quite some time, that was until Ajax had turned eighteen. His combat skills had skyrocketed since his adolescent classes and competitive matches. Combat came like second nature to him, and that didn’t go by unnoticed. Very quickly Ajax got an offer for a job, one that he would never tell you details about. You remember the shock that enveloped you when Ajax excitedly spouted the good news to you.

     You didn’t know whether to be happy or sad. You wanted to be happy for your childhood friend because this was an amazing offer for him, and an incredible opportunity to keep growing. But on the other hand you wanted to be sad because you knew you would see him less and less as time went on, not only that but you were still just so uncertain about this job. Ajax never withheld information about what was going on in his life until now; what if he got himself into something awful? Nonetheless you quickly plastered a shocked and excited expression on your face, as you rambled different forms of congrats and praise for being so good. Before Ajax left to go back to his home you gave him the tightest hugged and made him promise to stay close. Ajax was floored that you valued your friendship with him so much you would make him promise something he would never give up.

     Time had passed and you noticed yourselves slowly drifting apart. It went from calling each other less, to only texting, then to texting less until you guys barely talked. You understood Ajax was busy, but it still stung seeing you what you thought would’ve been your life long friend slowly forget about you. That was until you had received something in the mail with a very familiar name on it. Ajax.

     A small black box containing what looked to be a hand made scrappily hammered ring along with a letter at the bottom landed on your desk in your bedroom, assuming one of your parents must’ve dropped it off in there. All doubts about Ajax in your mind had been eased as you delicately slid the heavy polished ring on your finger. After you did you giggled in excitement as a delicate pink blush found its way to the tops of your cheeks and ears. You had almost forgotten about the note neatly folded, awaiting to be opened and it’s contents to be discovered.

      You gently unfolded the letter, almost scared that you’d rip it. Inside was the most beautifully written borderline love letter you had ever read, it was almost like romantic poetry, and at the very end was a sentence you wanted to burn into your memory ‘remember that promise?’. Your mind was immediately flooded with all the fond memories you had with Ajax, blushing more and more as you uncovered them. By the end of your daydream session butterflies were fluttering around excitedly in your stomach. You didn’t want to be friends with Ajax anymore. You wanted to love him.

     It had been years since you last heard from him. Not a day has gone by that you haven’t worn the ring Ajax had given you so long ago. You moved away from Snezhnaya after you turned eighteen, now residing in Mondstadt whilst you were going to college; you planned to move back after getting your degree but you made some great friends and the carefree culture of the windy city really called to you. Though after one of your parents' health took a turn for the worst you had made quick plans to go visit with your family.

     It had felt like ages since you last stepped foot out into the familiar icy air, looking around to see the sheets of snow and ice covering the ground. Luckily the streets were plowed, which allowed you to maneuver through the city. Your visit has been great since setting foot in your childhood home. You were happy to be home for the time being, happy to relive the nostalgic moments of your younger days. Everything had changed so much since then. You had barely even thought about Snezhnaya or even Ajax for that matter despite wearing his ring every day, wanting to start fresh when you left for college.

      You suddenly realized you had let your head drop accidentally dozing off, jerking yourself out of melancholy memories. You decided it was probably jet lag, but it was far too early to go to sleep so coffee sounded like a good solution. You remembered an old coffee shop you used to study at whilst you were in high school, that was conveniently within walking distance to your house. With a quick five minute walk to the outdoor shops that littered the local streets you lived by, you located the coffee shop taking a minute to stare at the outside. It hadn’t changed at all.

     Smiling to yourself you walked in and politely ordered a coffee before sitting down at a high table by the window. The stand for the table had a heater built in, keeping you warm as you looked out the thin glass shielding you from the icy winds. You took in the old streets, smiling as you once again lost yourself in the nostalgia of everything. You hadn’t noticed a strikingly tall ginger walk into the shop, and you also hadn’t noticed the considerably loud gasp and call of your name. You only noticed the man's presence when he tapped on your table, causing you to jolt and promptly turn in his directly. It took you a minute to realize who you were staring at.

     “(Y/n)? What the hell are you doing here?” Ajax. There he stood, at the side of you bent over at the hips slightly so he wasn’t completely towering over you. Ajax didn’t want to see you here. He didn’t want to see you at all. You were still fresh in his mind just like you were the last day he had seen you. He missed you. His eyes fell to your hand where he saw the ring he had made and sent to you still on your finger after all these years.

     Your face was almost unrecognizable after all the time that passed, you had grown so much since then. Something unsettled Ajax about your demeanor, you were like an open book to him when you guys were younger as you wore your heart on your sleeve. Looking at you now though, there was no glimpse at the emotions you were feeling in this moment. Were you happy to see him again, since you wore his ring? Were you upset with him breaking his promise? Ajax couldn’t tell as you stared blankly at him for what seemed like ages, giving it enough time to make the air solidify and turn stale and uncomfortable. You finally shook yourself out of this trance you were in, as you suddenly stood up.

     “Wha- Hey, wait a minute (y/n)! What are you doing here?” You didn’t acknowledge Ajax’s voice, subliminally yearning to fall into his strong arms. You were upset. How dare he ask you what you’re doing here. You weren’t the one who had completely abandoned everyone in your life for some sketchy job. You grabbed your coffee before swiftly beginning to exit. Something in Ajax was different. He didn’t really take kindly to you ignoring him, as you felt a vice like grip grab onto your wrist, causing you to flinch and whip around to angrily rip your arm out of his grasp.

     “Don’t touch me Ajax! How dare you have the audacity to ask me what I’m doing here! This was my home! I didn’t abandon everyone I knew and loved on some sketchy ass whim!” Ajax stared at you. Were you joking?! Some ‘sketchy ass whim’?! You supported him when he first told you!

     “What the hell is wrong with you (y/n)?!” Your eyes narrowed as you grit your teeth, you grip on your coffee tightening. Without even thinking you threw it in his face.

     “What’s wrong with me?! You’re so fucked up Ajax! We were best friends and then you completely vanish from reality! You promised me we would stay close!” Now it was time for Ajax to grit his teeth. So you were upset with him about that.

     “(Y/n) that was years ago!! We grew up! That was just a stupid childish promise!” As soon as those words left Ajax’s mouth, he went silent as his eyes widened in horror at his on voice. The entire coffee shop was silent as they all watched your argument break out. Ajax didn’t mean to say that, he knew he had fucked up his promise with you and he hated himself for it; he just didn’t know how to explain what he was doing without scaring you off or pushing you away. Turns out he was already doing that by vanishing. He wanted you to forget about him, he knew that when he took the job to join the Fatui and serve the Tsaritsa he would never be able to give you what you deserved. A normal and happy relationship. Ajax was pulled out of his thoughts when he heard a sniff and realized you were beginning to cry.

     “Ah… So that’s what it was. Just a way to get me to get off your back. I suppose the ring served the same purpose? Whatever Ajax, you’ve changed and I don’t ever wanna see you again.” You quickly ripped the ring off before throwing it in the trash as you stormed out, trying not to audibly cry, as you had already embarrassed yourself enough in that shop. Ajax stood statuesque still. Holy shit he had made everything so much worse. He sighed before snapping out of his position to grab some napkins, to hopefully dry himself off before venturing back outside. He had to fix this.

     It had been a couple days since your argument with Ajax and you were in shambles. This could not have come at a worse time. You were just happy that this Gods awful trip was coming to an end soon. You sighed as you flipped onto your back in your childhood bedroom, trying to reminisce on the old memories you had here, but all of them had gotten tainted by Ajax. He had ruined everything for you. You regretted everything with him, with getting so close to him. Tears had started to well up in your eyes but you quickly blinked them away before they had gotten the chance to fall. You hadn’t noticed before, but there was this weird tapping sound coming from your window; which caused you to anxiously investigate. You pulled your curtains back to be greeted with Ajax, who looked at you sheepishly. You blankly stared at him for a moment before closing the curtains and going back to lay on your bed, trying your hardest to ignore Ajax’s protests and calls of your name. After a while everything had gone silent, until your door opened and Ajax emerged one again.

     “Uh… I’m sorry about coming into your room uninvited but one of your parents called me inside and said I could just come in. In hindsight I probably should’ve knocked before coming in and-”

     “What the hell do you want Ajax.” You cut off the young man's babbling without looking at him, you were on your side laying down on your bed with your back facing him.

     “I wanted to make everything up to you. I want to explain everything and I want to tell you about my job finally.” Ajax was hopeful that you would allow him the opportunity to explain himself.

     “No. Now get out of my house.” Ajax’s heart sunk. No… No no no you had to let him explain himself, he needed to explain. He needed you.

     “Please (y/n) I know you don’t owe me anything, not even your time, but please I owe you this.” You sighed, before slowly sitting up and facing him finally. You stared at him for a moment before speaking.

     “Fine. But you have two minutes, so you better speak quickly.” Ajax’s heart fluttered. He spent those two minutes exactly, explaining everything that happened. You were silent for the most part, staring at your hand and you fiddled with your fingers. Ajax waited anxiously for your response. When you didn’t give him anything he took this as a sign to move onto faze two of his apology. For the last couple of days he had been running all over Snezhnaya spending preposterous amounts of mora. He had presented you with flowers and food; but above all he presented you with a ring.

     “That is one promise that I am going to keep true. Please (y/n) forgive me and make me the happiest man in the world and marry me.” You stared at him with large eyes and Ajax took a hold of one of your hands and gently slid the beautiful ring onto your ring finger. Tears once again began to well up in your eyes, and suddenly your arms were wrapped around his torso as you cried into his chest. You missed this. He still felt the same way he did when you hugged him last, he even smelled the same.

     “Is that… A yes?” You nodded furiously, face still buried deep in his chest. You were willing to forgive him, but above all, you were willing to love him again.

[coexiising]

Good Neighbors - Chapter One

SUMMARY ✦ You were excited to learn that someone was finally moving into that old house next to your own. The Skywalker-Amidala family seemed like a great addition to your friendly neighborhood, with their two twin kids and happy personalities. Though, the more you get to know your neighbors, the closer you get to the husband of the family: Anakin Skywalker.

WARNING(S) ✦ Modern! Anakin Skywalker, Alternate Universe, Infidelity, Eventual Smut, not so slow burn, Eventual Romance, Neighbors, and they were neighbors, anakin looks so good in a suit, sneaking around, forbidden love

NOTE ✦ I’ve been wanting to write a Modern! Anakin fanfic for a while now, so here we go! This will be a multi chapter fic, I don’t know how many yet but expect a lot because I’ve got some ideas to play out! This chapter is more of an introductory, but expect some more spicy drama in the next coming chapters. 

»»————-　✼　————-««

As tradition goes every year, you could smell the smoke coming from the middle of your neighborhood's culdesac while you made your way outside your garage with your mother, who held a large tray of potato salad in her hands that she insisted she carried herself over to the white tables in the distance. It was hot outside, early July was coming strong this year with the heat, reaching a staggering eighty nine degrees outside and it was already well past noon. Though, you should’ve been expecting the heat, since it seemed to creep up on you every time this yearly cookout happened.

It had been a little tradition, jokingly deemed a ‘holiday’ by your younger brother, that had been going on for as long as you could think back to. You could remember being five years old and running around with the neighborhood kids and jumping into your pool after eating the bountiful amount of food that was supplied for the families that participated. It used to be a handful of them, three or four families that came and had a small little barbeque together. But over time that changed, and now it became a whole neighborhood thing.  

The dads of the block always started earlier to get everything set up, which was really the long white tables where food could be set and setting up the large grill on the pavement. And the moms always slaved away in their kitchens making some type of side dish, whether it be fruit cups, potato salads, or whatever. You were twenty two now, almost done with your undergraduate degree, and you wondered if you would ever find this sense of friendliness anywhere else when you eventually moved from your home. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to leave, it was just more convenient for you to stay and you didn’t mind your family that much. They were supportive, there for you no matter what, and your home was close to your University anyways.

“I wonder if Lisa is going to wear that ugly dress she bought the other day,” Your mother stated, making short, languid strides next to you. “She brought it to the house a few days ago when we were having a little wine date and I didn’t have the heart to tell her that she was definitely not twenty five anymore and that dress did not hug her in the right places.”

You laughed, jokingly hitting your mom on the shoulder. “Mom, come on, it can’t be that bad.” She didn’t respond, only grinning towards you with a hint of playfulness filling her eyes behind her thick, black sunglasses. Your eyes scanned the crowd already forming, kids on the outside running around with a ball. You knew a lot of them, even held some of them as babies after they were born. But when you took another glance at the group, you saw that there were two you didn’t recognize. A boy and a girl, both looking similar to one another and the only difference being the slightly different shades of their hair. “Mom, who are they?” You asked, pointing to the girl and boy who were now fighting each other for control over the soccer ball.

“Oh, they’re the kids of the new neighbors,” Your mom answered, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. You looked over at the house next to your own, a two story one with white coloring and many windows. It had been for sale forever and it became quite the local news when someone actually bought it. You guess you hadn’t realized that the people who bought it were now occupying it. “They’re twins, I think. The mom and dad are on the younger side too. Courtney says that the husband is working at that law firm down on first street and apparently the wife wants to run for senator in a year.” How the hell did she know this much about everyone? You shouldn’t even question it at this point, since she was friends with all the neighborhood moms who loved to gossip.

Looking around for any unfamiliar faces, you were surprised to see none. Were they not coming out for the cookout? It seemed like the perfect place for them to meet everybody. “Oh!” Your mom exclaimed. “I forgot the tongs on the kitchen counter, could you go get them for me, please?” Without a second thought you nodded, turning on your heel and making your way back towards your house. As much as you loved your mom, you were sometimes annoyed with her forgetfulness, especially because you asked her if she had everything three times before you left just a few moments ago. Oh well, it wasn’t that big of a deal, you would be in and out in no time.

You walked up the well cut grass of your lawn to your front door, sandaled foot almost hitting the concrete when you heard the creak of another door. It belonged to the door of the house beside you, the light tapping of shoes making their way onto the patio filled your ears, feeling somewhat foreign since you weren’t used to hearing anything from that house. You wondered what it looked like inside, if everything was rusted and worn. It had to have been almost ten years since someone lived there.

But when you turned to finally get a look at your neighbor, your thoughts were completely halted.

Your mom was right, he, most likely being the husband, was on the younger side. He had to be in his early thirties, still a lot of youth painting his broadened features. His skin was lightly tanned, it was hard not to notice the way that the sun seemed to do a good job in painting his long, muscular arms that reached to close the door behind him. He was wearing a short sleeved shirt and black pants, though it wasn’t like something that you had seen other dads wear before, it was more formal, more pristine like he was trying to make an appearance. But if the story checked out, he was supposed to be a lawyer, it was his job to look professional. You continued to look at him, almost shamefully so as your eyes trailed from his clothing to his face, taking in the sharpness of his jaw and the blues of his eyes that very much reminded you of the light blue sky above you now. And then to his hair, which was cut short and had a golden glow to it.

Right as you were about to turn and get into your house, the ball that had been with the group of kids came flying your way, hitting against the door next to you and making you jump at the loud noise. It was lucky that it didn’t fly through a window, or your parents would’ve gone ballistic. You could hear some of the parents start to shout at the kids, telling them to stay away from the houses if they were planning on kicking that thing off of the ground. The same kids you were questioning earlier ran up your lawn, most definitely to retrieve the ball that would’ve hit you dead on if you hadn’t been gawking at their father.

“Luke, I told you to not kick it that way!” The girl, Leia, yelled towards her brother, a little stomp in her step as they made their way towards you. You picked up the ball and held it in your hands, kneeling down and waiting for the kids to approach you. Luke shook his head, shaggy hair falling into his eyes and saying, “It wasn’t me! It was that other guy over there. Why do you always blame me!” You laughed, the dynamic almost reminding you of you and your brother when you were younger.

Handing them the red rubber ball, they both gave you a small ‘thank you’ and Leia muttered a tiny ‘sorry’ and they went on their way. Watching as they went, you didn’t even realize that someone else was walking up to you. Still kneeling, you looked up and saw that it was your neighbor, looking down at you with a tiny, pleasant smile on his face. You blushed, realizing the awkward position and stood up, ignoring the heat coming to your cheeks and offering a smile to him as well. Being this close to him, you could see that he was tall as well, standing a good couple inches over you. Usually this would’ve made you feel intimidated, but for some reason it made you want to draw closer to him. You mentally scolded yourself for thinking this way, knowing that he was your new neighbor, and not to mention he had two very cute twins and a wife who was probably beautiful.

“Sorry about that, I hope they didn’t scare you that bad,” He said, taking a glance at his kids who were already starting another round of whatever game they were playing with the others. His voice was low, but there was a sense of calm to it. It wasn’t rough or gravelly, almost like honey as he spoke to you. “I haven’t seen you here before, do you live here? I think I’ve seen your mom and dad around but we were waiting until the cookout to introduce ourselves.” Kind of a stupid question to ask since you were standing on your porch with your keys in your hand, though you gave him the benefit of the doubt.

“Yeah, um,” You thought back to the day you saw your neighbors two cars parked in the driveway, was that a Sunday? No, it was a Monday. “I’m usually around here more but last week I had to pick up a couple shifts at work to help my friend.” Your coworker and friend came down with the flu and had to find someone to cover her ships ASAP, and you weren’t doing anything important and stepped in to help.

He nodded. “Makes sense. I’m Anakin Skywalker, you already met my kids but they’re Luke and Leia.” Skywalker. A strange last name that confused you for a moment, realizing that you’ve never heard of anything like that before. Then again, you hadn’t heard of the name Anakin either, but somehow the unique name fit him.

“Y/N,” You responded, giving him a nod.

“Y/N,” He said, like he was testing the name out on his tongue. You tried to ignore the feeling you got when you heard it come out of his lips, which were very nice by the way when you took a second to glance at them. It sounded good in Anakin’s voice, and you found yourself wanting him to say it over and over again if he would. There was a moment of awkward silence between the both of you, a random amount of tension that you didn’t know if you were imagining or not. Then Anakin opened his mouth again to say, “My kids were looking at the pool in your yard the other day when they were exploring our backyard.”

“Oh, yeah,” You said. “They’re welcome to come over any time and use it if they want.”

“Are you sure?”

It was normal for the people in the neighborhood to use it if they wanted to. It was a big underground pool that had been built when you were a little kid. “Yeah, everyone does. Just make sure to ask someone before and they’ll most likely say yes. We like to get the most out of it every summer.” You realized that you were supposed to be back with your mother, she was most likely getting antsy as to what was taking so long. So you took the opportunity to leave, even though you wouldn’t mind staying and talking to your new neighbor for as long as he wanted to. He wasn’t just attractive, you thought that he was nice too.

“Well, I need to get something from the house and get back to my mom. See you later, Mr. Skywalker.”

“Y/N?”

“Yeah?”

“Just Anakin is fine.”

You felt your cheeks heat up. “Right, see you later, Anakin.” He gave you one last smile and right as you turned around, you could’ve sworn you saw a wink. You turned on your heel, ignoring the eyes he clearly had on you and making your way into your house. The moment the door was closed, you leaned against the wood and closed your eyes, replaying that last moment over and over again in your head. Had he really winked at you? Or was that just your mind spinning some kind of fantasy?

Oh, Christ.

It was hard to ignore the butterflies swarming in your stomach.

[creativeashproductions]

Drowning in the Past // Luke Patterson

Summary: Julie’s estranged older sister returns home after a shameful night from New York City. Band on hiatus reader is forced to come home to face the consequences her actions had, including her hurt younger sister. In finding herself she happens to discover friends on her journey.

Warning: Swearing, talk of alcohol and drugs, underage drinking, grief, sex, angst and some fluff.

Words: 2.4k

A/N What if Julie had a sister in a successful signed band named Graveyard Petals. Part Two - Healed by the Music (Coming soon!)

Masterlist

Blowing a raspberry with pursed lips, you prepared yourself for the lecture that would happen the minute your foot crossed the front door. The last year had been one of the hardest dealing with the sudden death of your mother and dealing it with as best as you could. Everything was going moderately okay with the band, but you fucked up three days ago. Typically you knew the limits with alcohol but with the anniversary of losing your mom and attending an after-party was a massive mistake.

Especially when the tabloid released unflattering photos of you needed help from your bandmates getting to the car. Unaware until the next morning when the phone rang.

The shrill round of a ringtone blasted into your sleep pulling you into a blistering hangover and groans. The night before was a blur. Hand tapping the table you grasped the phone blinding pressing the screen until you lucked out on the green circle.

“What the hell were you thinking?” The shout flung you upright, “You got drunk? You’re eighteen! We had a deal.”

“Dad.” You groaned rubbing your head. Going entirely still when you felt the covers shift, terrified, you glanced over to see a body in the bed.

Oh my god. Your eyes widened clueing into the stranger in the bed just as naked, and you were on the phone with Dad. You scrambled into the adjoining bathroom to the hotel room.

“Y/N, you said you stopped. Why did you lie?” Ray Molina asked his daughter clenching the bridge of his nose, “Your Tía called me this morning and send a link to a lovely article. My eldest daughter, my responsible daughter, intoxicated, being held up by her friends.”

“I know. It’s just it was Mom-“

“I know what yesterday was. You should have known it was a bad idea to drink. I called Lucy. You’re coming home. That’s final.”

Ray’s voice was solemn as he spoke utterly disappointed in you before it went to shit further. The safety of the bathroom shattering when the door opened and the acoustics of the room amplifying the voice.

“Hey, last night was amazing. If you’re ever in town again, just call me.”

“Y/N Molina.” The words were tense, “You better be home immediately. We will be talking about this.”

The phone hung up, and your head fell to your knees, sinking into the shame brought by your actions. You had naively overlooked the negatives of the lifestyle 

The SUV came to a stop outside the home who hadn’t been in for the past year. You typically avoided it by living in the house with your band.

“I want you to take the break to find yourself again. Heal.” Lucy spoke, turning to stare at you, “I took a chance on your band, I went against Andi Parker. Please don’t make me regret doing it. You’ll be staying here and reconnecting with your family.”

You wordlessly nodded to her words before climbing out of the SUV where the driver had put the suitcase. Most of your things were still in your childhood bedroom. You wandered up to the front door at a glacial pace, hoping to avoid what would happen in the house.

“Y/N.” The door was open with your dad standing there with his arms crossed over his chest and an expression he didn’t often have. A look of pure disappointment, “Go to the kitchen.”

A sigh fell from your lips as you nodded your head as you wandered into the homey place your mother had adored cooking in. She loved music and cooking almost as much as she loved her family. In the kitchen, your sister was doing homework. Julie avoided music because of the death of your mother and you fleeing.

“Julie,” Ray spoke, getting the sixteen-year old’s attention, her eyes shuttering as you met her gaze. Julie’s eyebrows came together with a look of heartbreak and left her homework to flee up to her room.

“I’m sorry.” You spoke, looking at the table as Ray sat across from you. You stared at the chip on the edge from when you cut your scalp running after Julie as a kid.

“Lucy agreed that you need to be home. You kept it hidden very well, but until you can get yourself together, you will not be touring. Until I deem it okay, you will fix your relationship with Carlos and Julie. You will volunteer for Julie’s school program, and you will not be allowed at any party.” Ray spoke, “I could make your punishment worse. I also want you to get yourself checked.”

You winced remembering he was well aware of your one night stand after hearing the person’s voice.

“I don’t have any-“

“I don’t care. I don’t know if you’ve been with one person or more, but you need to be checked out.”

Ray left the girl, “Remember why you love music so much. Your mom wouldn’t like who her daughter turned out to be.”

That broke your heart more because he was right. You were exactly how your mother raised you not to be.

Your eyes stayed locked on the black nail polish that matched the nose ring you had gotten a few months back. Hair dyed with streaks was another rebellious choice. You had changed so much from the girl that had gotten a record deal with her band.

Without even realizing your feet left the house to stand in front of the studio, you avoided. What was once a place of love and happiness was tarnished by the loss of the woman who introduced you to music. A place where you learned how to play the piano when your feet couldn’t touch the pedal. Where you had caused callously painstakingly learning guitar.

“Why are you here?” Your back stiffened at Julie’s hostile tone, “Don’t you have some country to be in.”

“No. I messed up.” You spoke roughly playing with the ring on your finger. The necklace in your pocket felt like it was burning.

“Whatever.” Julie scoffed brushing passed to open the doors to the studio. Her hands slammed the doors closed in your own hurt face.

Julie stomped to the piano, ignoring the other people in the room as she slammed the piano open. Her fingers shaking as they came to rest on the white keys, but the tears flowed down her cheeks. It was bittersweet to see you back in the house after months of dodging her calls, and finally, when you come home, it’s because you got into trouble.

“Are you okay?” Reggie asked the Molina girl. Her red eyes meeting the three ghosts in the room, “You were kinda yelling out there.”

Luke was uncomfortable at the tears he saw running down Julie’s cheeks glancing at the closed garage doors. It terrified him when girls cried. He never knew exactly how to comfort them.

“Yeah. Someone I thought I knew is out there.” Julie scoffed, “I don’t think I’m the best to be rehearsing with.”

“Come on, Julie! I’m sorry! You deserve an explanation. I’m a terrible sister.” You called from outside. The band shared a look of surprise as they had absolutely no clue Julie had another sibling.

Julie grunted stomping to the doors with a furious expression, the aggressiveness of opening them startling you. Standing across from Julie was a girl that the three didn’t know and so unlike Julie. You had a ripped band shirt tied in the back to make a form-fitting crop top, high waisted jeans. Hair dyed and a piercing set you so far from Julie.

“You’re playing again?” You smiled, looking at the piano ready to be played, but Julie didn’t react, “Mom would be proud of you.”

 “One of us shouldn’t be a disappointment.” Julie snapped.

“Oh, damn!” Reggie exclaimed to the guys, “Julie really went for the throat.”

His words took your full attention to see three guys in very ’90s like clothing intently watching your interaction with your sister. Julie was surprised you could see them but her anger and hurt overpowered that part.

“Look I’m really sorry for how I’ve been acting.” You sighed stepping closer only to stop when Julie stepped back, “I never wanted to hurt you but Jules you shouldn’t have to see how I was acting. I haven’t been a good role model.”

“You still hurt me. I needed you.” Julie’s voice cracked as she wrapped her arms around her, “If they hadn’t come into my life, I wouldn’t have played again.”

“You needed someone who wasn’t doing what I was doing.”

“What were you doing?” Julie softly asked. You hesitated on telling her the truth, but she needed to know why it was best she hadn’t been exposed to your behaviour.

“Will you listen?” You asked the younger girl. She nodded, so you led her to the couch that had come with the place. Julie sat on one end of the sofa while curled your legs under you.

The guys followed right after and honestly, you didn’t care if they heard.

“Last year, when Mom was sick, I wasn’t there. I was there the day she passed, but I was selfish. It was stupid, but I honestly thought she would be okay.” You softly began reopening a wound that hadn’t healed, “I know she was proud and pushed me to continue, but I shouldn’t have. The more time passed, the harder it was to see me.”

“You guys were getting more popular.” Julie shrugged, “I’ve always been proud that you chased your dream.”

“I know. That dream came with negative parts though Jules. To cope, I started drinking, I changed my hair, got a piercing, experimented with some illicit things and I…uh…slept with a few people. I was never meant to sleep around, I commend people that do and love that but it’s not for me.  I tried to change myself because I thought I could change how I felt.”

Julie was silent, scanning your features and the changes she had been blinded from with rage and pain. It felt like part of you was missing, there was an emptiness in your eyes and your shoulders were drooped, and you didn’t have that smile.

“Things really went to shit, pardon my language. It’s another change.” You winced at the word choice, “Mom’s anniversary was on the same night we went to an awards show. I had gotten drunk, but I performed at the show still good.”

“GP won two awards.” Julie grinned, “You were wearing the ring.”

You raised your index finger where a simple ring had sat for years, one that matched the one on Julie’s finger. You may have taken the Virgin Mary necklace off, but you could never take the ring you had with Julie off.

“My faith took a nosedive.” You admitted reaching into your pocket for the Virgin Mary necklace, “I didn’t feel like it was right to wear this and live how I was. Anyway at the after party I got extremely drunk, James and Iris had to help me to the car. Tabloids came out the next morning, and Dad called.”

You winced remembering the nasty hangover and the rather shameful lapse of memory. You still have no clue the exact details with the one nightstand.

“Ooh. Tía sent him a link? She was looking after Carlos. It was a lot of Spanish.” Julie winced remembering the shocking words leaving the older woman’s mouth.

“Oh, it gets worse. Just as the call was about to end…my hookup made their appearance.”

Julie choked, “You slept with someone?!”

“Hollywood life.” You weakly replied, making jazz hands, “So for the next few months I’ll be here.”

Julie was quiet, “Well if it makes you feel better. These guys are Luke, Reggie, and Alex. They’re ghosts.”

 You were silent, staring at the younger Molina taking in the news better than she had expected, “I can’t judge after the past year.”

Helping Julie with her band and spending time with your family was more healing than finding the bottom of a bottle was. You attended a few sessions with Dr Turner and finally rediscovered the love of music. You often fielded questions from the guys too.

“What’s your band’s name?” Luke asked, placing his chin in his hands, listening intently to hearing your stories.

“Graveyard Petals.” You chuckled with a wide grin, “My mom had a band with petals in the title, so I wanted to honour her. Our band was driving to a gig still trying to figure out a name when we went past a cemetery and the name kinda just clicked.”

“That’s so cool!” Reggie spoke with a wide grin, “God, I wish we got the chance.”

“It has its moments.” You shrugged, “I’m actually meeting up with them in a few hours if you wanted to come?”

The guys nodded their heads each sporting a broad grin at the suggestion.

“We’ve all been finding ourselves again. My mom was our mentor, so it hit all of us hard, but I acted out worse.”

Luke’s eyes couldn’t help but notice that your necklace was resting on the hollow your neck just like Julie. A lightness came over him seeing that you had been finding yourselves once more.

“You seem happier,” Alex noted, leaning his elbows on his knees because he was right. In the time you had been home, you had changed your hair back to its natural colour, and your skin wasn’t as sickly pale as before.

“I am.” You smiled glancing at Luke, “I’m thrilled I got to meet you guys. I feel like if that tabloid hasn’t come out, I would have overdosed or drank myself to death.”

You hadn’t touched a drop of alcohol in months now. Music poured out of yourself with such a healing aspect you couldn’t believe it. You dad was ecstatic his little girl had found her way back to her true self.

Reggie and Alex glanced at each other before poofing out to leave Luke there with you. There was something between Luke and you that made the two boys happy. You each deserved happiness.

“So can I see some of your songs?” Luke asked with a soft smile that tugged at your heartstrings. You grabbed the notebook from your guitar case covered in doodles before opening it to a half-written song.

“So this is very raw and special to me.” You spoke glancing up at the teenage boy with a sparkle that hasn’t been seen in over a year, “It’s called Sober.”

Part Two - Healed by the Music

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[bellygunnr]

Blown Lightbulb

A commission piece for @poisonheadcrabsalesman featuring Thomas Lasky/Sarah Palmer. 

---

The house is cold. It hasn’t changed at all since you’ve last been here, some twenty odd years ago. You hadn’t been a kid then-- just a pilot, home on leave despite not really wanting to be. It had been tense then. It was the same now, even if your mother wasn’t even here, and you were laying bare the contents of your past to the two people you loved the most and considered the most important in your life. You hesitate to look at them, not quite fearful of what they’re thinking but definitely reluctant, like any of this is your fault and something to be ashamed of.

You know no one can really blame you for wanting some modicum of closure, but you’ve always been conscious of starting losing battles. Your mother isn’t even here, for one. A toneless holo-message is all she’s left you, detailing that an emergency at work brought her in and she’ll be back sometime in the evening. Maybe you and your colleagues could meet her at this location, even, and upon further investigation, that location is a startling high-profile restaurant of considerable Martian renown.

So much for flying close to the surface. You’d be in the air for all to see, just for a chance to reconcile with what little remains of your family. But that wasn’t for several hours yet, so you content yourself with poking around the giant empty house and listening to Sarah and Roland banter between each other.

“No offense, but this feels kind of like a museum exhibit,” Sarah says. “It’s not even dusty. I’d prefer it if it was.”

“You’d prefer it? There are stock photos of kids up here-- unless the Lasky family is way bigger than records suggest,” Roland answers.

You look at the picture frames Roland is pointing out. Amid the pictures of your brother Cadmon, there are photos of a foreign family, conspicuously only featuring a father figure. You run your fingers through your hair, nostrils flaring with a barely-restrained sigh.

“We didn’t take many family pictures,” you say, as if that explains anything. “I’m going to check out the upstairs.”

You tug on the back of your head, pulling at the recently shaved strands in a fit of anxiety. You don’t want to go upstairs. You’re afraid of what you’ll find there. Cadmon’s room was practically a shrine twenty years ago. The stairs don’t even creak as you step up them and you’re not sure why you expect them to. They look and feel and sound like wood, but you know them to be special composites that just didn’t degrade.

Your grip lingers on the railing as you take the final step. The door you know that leads to your mother’s room is closed. The keypad lock to it is bright red. You wonder if the keycode has changed at all, but testing it probably isn’t worth the risk. Across from her room is Cadmon’s, but that door is also, as you expected, closed.

And the one you recognize as your own is ajar. You let your hand find Sarah’s, squeezing it so tightly that she squeezes back, thumb rolling over your knuckles in a decidingly tender way.

“You know you don’t have to do this, Tom,” she says gently.

“But I want to,” you say. “I know I don’t need to.”

“Well, that’s something.”

It is. You offer her a braver smile than you feel and let her follow you to your room. There are more picture frames up here, covering the walls in even intervals. You can only ignore them because you know Roland is looking at them. You nudge open the door with your foot and, again, hesitate at the threshold.

Was everything in this house going to be difficult?

You shut your eyes and take in a shuddering breath. You can feel Sarah at your back, her presence radiating warmth. If you wobble, you feel her sturdy body against yours, so you let yourself lean into the partial embrace of her arms. She squeezes your shoulders, just as ice trickles down your spine.

Roland’s presence bleeds into your mind like condensation forming on the outside of a glass. It’s not enough for his thoughts or feelings to be tangible, but it’s so distinctly him that you smile and relax, easing the tension in your balled-up fists and opening your eyes. The room ahead is dark, but all you need to do is step inside for the lights to wake up and--

It’s not exactly the same as you left it, but it’s close. Your eyes roam the room, picking out all the various effects of teenaged you. There are posters on the wall, though some of the pixels have gone dark in their paper-thin construction, and models on the shelves, thick with dust. Your bed is perfectly made, the pillows hidden beneath a dark red blanket. Inevitably, your eyes roam over to a box bolted seamlessly into the wall, just above your nightstand. 

“Ah,” you breathe, staring at the box. “I see.”

“Is that…?” Sarah starts, but trails off, uncertain.

You can feel Roland’s curiosity curling up in the back of your mind. If you strain, you can even see his glittery-gold essence creeping out toward the box, but that gives you a migraine the harder you try.

You open your mouth to try and explain what it is, despite what it is being obvious. It’s a physical control panel for a domestic-grade Dumb AI. His name is still plainly depicted in the form of colorful stickers-- Admiral Hart. He hadn’t been active last time, but he hadn’t been gone either, so at least the sick hope flickering in your belly isn’t fully misplaced.

Still, is it worth trying to activate him?

“Roland,” you say, feeling quite outside yourself. “You can investigate it, if you want. Um, if he’s in there, could you…?”

“Of course, Captain,” Roland says.

Roland’s projection hovers in mid-air, thrown there by the custom commpad he was currently residing in. He smiles brilliantly at you and Sarah before bringing up what must be the digital counterpart of the control panel, his gestures as grandiose as ever, his expression just visible behind the transparent boxes. You hate it, but you distract yourself by leaning into Sarah’s space and kissing the bottom of her chin, staying there until Roland pipes up again.

“He’s in there, Captain. Says here he hasn’t been activated since… 2549. Very long service life, this one.”

Oh, that wasn’t too bad. Still, nearly ten years, completely shut down.

“...I don’t know if I’m ready to see him yet,” you say in one long rush of breath, the realization making you feel ill. “I do miss him, though.”

“There are also several other AI matrices in here,” Roland adds. “Why so many, if I may ask?”

“They were my teachers, when I was doing homeschooling. I’m surprised they’re still here.”

Dumb AI were very limited in their fixed personalities, but you swear they’re more sentient than they let on. One didn’t befriend several all at once and not experience some inexplicable variances, but dwelling on it was starting to make you feel hot behind the eyes. You shake your head, exasperated.

“Sorry, this is-- a lot more than I thought it’d be.”

“Don’t sweat it,” Sarah says lightly. “Want to go back downstairs?”

“Mind if I hang out in your house’s network for a little while?” Roland asks. “I won’t touch anything.”

“Go for it,” you say with a smile.

Roland winks and smiles before gathering up the tendrils of himself, more visible now that he was letting his essence ooze out between commpad, neural interfaces, and nearby network ports. Smart AI were remarkably fluid, or even gaseous, automatically filling in the void spaces around them, not because they wanted to be big as possible-- they were just that big. Still, you rub the back of your neck the same time as Sarah does, acutely conscious of the absence.

“Downstairs, then,” Sarah says. “Think there’s anything in the fridge?”

“I have no idea. Are you hungry?”

“I haven’t eaten since yesterday. To keep the motion sickness down, you know.”

You hum in acknowledgement. Her moving ahead of you prevents you from lingering too long upstairs, anxious as you are to keep up with her long strides. You have no idea where either of you are going to get clothes nice enough to go to a restaurant. Neither of you are dressed for it, let alone packed. Roland had suggested dressing as casually as possible to take the edge off, and well, maybe that was going to backfire. 

“I can feel you thinking too hard,” Sarah says.

She’s in your space the second you leave the stairs. But it’s gentle and unintrusive despite her taking up your whole line of sight. She’s teasing you, even as her brow is bent in concern.

“What am I thinking too hard about?” you ask.

“Hmmm. Something about your mom, like that stupid message she left us. Seriously, talk about a neutral location.” 

You laugh before you can stop yourself. 

“Got it in one,” you say. “I don’t know what she’s thinking.”

“Guess poor mother Lasky is going to have to come home after all,” Sarah says. “Isn’t that sad?”

She bumps your hip with the back of her fist, a playful nudge that, surprisingly, doesn’t send you stumbling. You punch her shoulder in return, silently following her into the next room, where the kitchen is. You watch Sarah go for the fridge and open it, head disappearing inside to scope out the contents. She retreats a moment later to throw something green and limp into your arms.

You catch it more out of surprise than anything, but you feel nauseous just holding it.

“What the hell is this?”

“Nutritional smoothie paste!” Sarah says, like she’s struck gold. “Used to eat this shit when I was a baby Spartan. They put it in Mjolnir on long-haul ops.”

“And that’s…. Is it good?” You ask, instantly skeptical.

“Hell, no. But I’m too polite to eat the meal plan stuff she has in there. So, drink up.”

Well, you couldn’t fault her there. You set the plastic tube of paste down on the faux-granite countertop, deciding that you’d rather let Sarah just drink both of them. You can’t stifle a smile as she immediately scoops it up, tearing open both of them at once and drinking them down in a truly disgusting fashion. But she doesn’t spill a drop, so... 

“I see you’ve gotten better at that,” you say.

“Roland made me promise not to make a mess if I’m going to be carrying the commpad,” she admits, looking exasperated for all of a split-second. “So.”

She tosses the spent bags onto the countertop, despite the trash can being directly underhand. You shrug that off in favor of grabbing her by the collar of her tank top and pulling her down, kissing her flat on the mouth. Her answering hum is felt in your bones and you both relax into each other, your anxious tension sapped by her solid core. She curls an arm around your waist and holds you in place, like she’s been waiting to do that.

“Relax a little,” she murmurs. “We can worry about her when she gets here.”

Not you, we. You feel a little weak in the knees at the distinction and let yourself hang onto her arms, certain that you’re looking at her with a dopey smile.

“But we probably shouldn’t do this in the kitchen,” she adds.

Before you can pull away, Sarah effortlessly hauls you into her arms, supporting you by grabbing a fistful of your ass and waiting until you wrap your arms around her neck. She squeezes your rear a couple times before moving, gait so smooth that you don’t even feel it when she turns on her heel to dump you on the couch with a flourish. 

You sink into the couch cushions, but wrap your arms around hers so that you don’t disappear completely. Her face is so close to yours that you count each individual scar and freckles, including the faint lines of surgical augmentations that only show up in the right light. You snake your hand up to the back of her neck, mindful not to grab ahold of the enlarged neural implant.

“Anyone ever told you you’re handsome, Tom?” Sarah murmurs.

“Mmm, I can think of a few…”

Her laughter is felt on your skin as warm puffs. She kisses you, her lips rough with bitten and half-healed skin that you nip at, chasing them when she tries to pull away. The plasticine fabric squeaks as she carefully, carefully lowers her weight over yours and straddles you, her thighs big enough to keep you in place. 

“Let me know if I’m hurting you.”

“I will,” you promise.

You want to say that you know she won’t, but she always looks so earnest when she asks that this time, you don’t. Because she has before-- there’s a biological differential between the two of you that you never stop thinking about. You work your hand further up to pull her hair out of its ponytail, working your fingers into the coarse locks and kissing her more intently, eyes fluttering shut. I love you, you want to say. I trust you, which is just as hard.

Her hands roam across your shirt and pluck open several buttons so that she can follow the edge of your collarbone and the slope of your shoulders. Her warm, slightly sweaty palms are a sharp contrast to the cool air, and the shock of physical contact has goosebumps lifting on your arms. You lick at her lips and fist some of her hair, mumbling indistinctly as you pull her down closer.

There’s no smart quip or knowing look to make light of your neediness. She finally lets her weight drop onto your lap completely and the kiss moves on, her teeth and lips tracking across the edge of your jaw to just underneath your ear. Instead of letting your hands hover, you start to follow the hard curves of her body, groping at the bunching muscles and admiring the power coiled there. 

Then she snaps into rigid attention, face turned toward the front door, her lips drawn back in a snarl. You vaguely notice that she has a chipped tooth before you hear the door opening and Sarah is still poised over you and she’s kissing you again, hard, and you kind of moan into it--

“Well, then,” an all-too-familiar voice says. “Thomas, care to… introduce me?”

Finally, Sarah climbs off of you, but not before buttoning your shirt and kissing your forehead. Your brain already hurts from the mental whiplash of the situation.

“Um, mother,” you start. “This is Sarah Palmer. My partner.”

Your mother is shorter than you remember. Her hair, once a brownish-black, is in faded tones and grey at the roots. A scar that wasn’t there twenty years ago lurks just by her eye and she looks exhausted. Stress and worry lines make canyons of her face, ones that twist your heart to look at.

“A pleasure to meet you,” Sarah says stiffly.

She does not look amused. She doesn’t look much of anything except terribly stern and suspicious of the scene before her. You almost can’t blame her. Almost.

“You know, I was hoping you’d be here when we got here,” you say. “But it seems you’re still working.”

“Of course. Duty still calls, you know.”

You watch her as she shrugs off her jacket and hangs it up on the coat rack in the anteroom. Both nothing and everything has changed about her and it makes something in your throat tighten.

“Oh, I know that more than anybody,” you breathe. “Yeah.”

“I do appreciate you coming home, Tom,” Audrey says, not looking at you. “It means a lot. I thought I’d have to see you when the Infinity opened her doors to the public. That is still happening-- right?”

“Sure, it’s happening,” Sarah says. “Look, Tom, do you want me to…?”

You shake your head.

“Yes, but I won’t be back on Mars until then. Working nonstop has its benefits-- like a lot of vacation time.”

“That sounds like a dream, to be able to use it,” Audrey replies calmly. “I need to know if we’re having dinner tonight.”

You and Sarah share a look.

“I was thinking we could share a bottle of wine and shoot the shit instead,” Sarah says. “Or some scotch, if you have it.”

At that, Audrey looks amused.

“I never took you for a scotch man, Tom,” Audrey chuckles.

You don’t say anything as she leaves the room, no doubt seeking out the desired glasses and alcohol. The sun is going down outside, plunging the room in a deep red. This was going better than expected. You want to break open the window and run. You want to do anything but sit back down and draw out the table and sit in a semi-circle and “shoot the shit.” But you’re already sitting down and the bottle is open and you haven’t ate anything-- neither has Sarah, even, but with her augmentations drinking on an empty stomach is probably beneficial and--

“Good news, everybody! I took the liberty of ordering us some, what do you humans call it? Party food? You know, for all the drinking we’re about to do. You’re welcome!”

You choke on your own spit and your mother nearly drops the glass she’s pouring. Sarah, for her part, is taking the bottle and stealing a sip directly, if only to conceal a smug smile.

Roland is hovering inches above the faux-wooden table, drawn up to his full height with chest puffed out and expression gleeful. He flicks one hand out in a casual salute toward Audrey before trotting aside and sitting down, legs crossed.

“Cheers,” he says.

“Hi, Roland,” Sarah greets.

You had completely forgotten about Roland. Oops.

“Thomas, I do hate to ask,” Audrey says, peering down at Roland with a pinched expression, “but why is there an AI?”

“Oh, you know,” you say vaguely, waving a hand. “It’s classified.”

“I’m Captain Lasky’s boss,” Roland says, grinning. “So I’m allowed to be here, you see.”

“Are you my boss, Roland?” Sarah asks.

“No, ma’am.”

Audrey’s eyebrows shoot up. She takes a sip from her glass, shifting in her seat uncomfortably.

“Well, I’m Audrey Lasky,” she says finally. “Pleasure to meet you.”

The rest of the night goes painfully.

[fotiathymos]

Idk if I'll ever draw the Gueira and Meis prequel story comic I have in my head but here have snippets I wrote of it and tell me if it's any good lol

uh warning its kinda long, three separate moments and not written like a book as I am more so plotting out how I’d draw it or envision things. Also has a lot of Gueira crying. Like he’s always crying. I’m sorry Gueira.

Meis grumbles and ups the volume on their music. Staring into their mirror, make up dark and black and bad. Angry singing along with a brush comb and then using the same comb to tease at their hair violently. Hair visibly comes out. Their bedroom window bursts open due to the wind. Meis jumps, startled.

The dust storm is rolling by hard and Meis notices the stable door open in the backyard. Their eyes go wide and quickly climb out their bedroom window running towards it.

(Continue in color)

Meis runs inside the stable closing the doors behind them and the storm gets worse. They glance around and count three horses, Ophelia is outside of her stall yet everything else seems fine. They sigh with relief. Meis walk over to Ophelia. "Did you open the doors again cause you were nervous?" Meis pats the horse's nose. Their hand leaves a dust print on the horse. Meis crouches down to look at themselves in a mirror nearby thats leaning on the floor.

Meis is covered in dust and their hair and make up all messed up. They grumble a bit and smudge their eyeliner down their cheek.

Through the mirror Meis sees a foot from behind them poking out of a hay stack.

Meis bolts up. Their first instinct is to kick the hay, hard.

Gueira screams. Followed by Meis screaming. Every single horse starts acting up.

They both are screaming at eachother at the same time.

Meis, "Who are you?! How'd you get here? Get ya fuck out of here!!"

Gueira, "Wait! Wait! Please don't kill me! I can't stand up! They kidnapped me! I had no where to go!"

Ophelia is pushing herself to get in front of Meis. Meis steps aside and the horse goes right for Gueira. Gueira lights his hands on fire and reaches out, "Please no!" Ophelia panics backwards. Meis gets in front of her this time. Gueira's still lying on the floor with his hands aflame, he doesn't attack.

"You’re fuckin’ Burnish! You stupid Burnish! Everything here is flammable don't even fuckin’ dare!" Meis screams and suddenly Gueira has a bucket of liquid tossed on him. His flames don't go out but are duller. He hugs his legs to himself and the light glow of flames surround his body. "I'm.. I'm not in control of this. But I.. won't.. I won't burn the place down.." he stumbles over his words as his body shakes.

Meis stops and takes a better look at Gueira and sees how distressed he is. They calm down Ophelia then look back towards Gueira.

"You're just a kid."

Gueira sniffles, “I’m not a kid!” The flames brighten.

“How old are you?”

“Just turned 16.″

“Thats a toddler. How’d a toddler get into my backyard?”

“I don’t need this from someone looking like that!” Gueira motions to Meis, still covered in dust, half teased hair, shirt torn and barely on and smeared make up. “How old are you?!”

“Gonna be 17 in two weeks.”

“Also toddler!” Gueira points and grins at Meis, his flames disappear for a moment.

“I’m pretty much an adult!” Meis waves their hands in the air. Then stomps a foot towards Gueira. “And you still haven’t answered me!” Ophelia acts up again as Meis is yelling again. Gueira recedes back, nervous.

“Please don’t call Freeze Force on me..” Gueira hugs his legs and hides his face.

“You’re in the wrong place then kid. My pa is training in Freeze Force.”

Gueira’s head shoots up, eyes wide.

Meis plops a seat down next to him. “I’ll hide you for the night though.” Meis leans their arm on their knee and rests their head on their arm. Eyeing Gueira carefully.

Gueira stares at Meis, tears forming but trying not to cry again. “Seriously?”

“I’m not gonna call the feds on a kid.” Meis pulls the nearby mirror close and starts fixing themselves up. “You're lucky my pa didn't catch ya, you'dve been swiss cheese.”

Gueira hides his face into his legs and arms again. “Can you just help me get home.. I don’t recognize any of this place.”

“Sure. Probably for the best you head out after the storm. It gets extra hot after a sandstorm passes ‘round here, even at night. Where you live?”

“Uh, near the Liberty apartments.. maybe you could just point me to a bus or I could hitch hike.. somehow.” Gueira is talking into his arms.

“...I don’t know of that apartment building. Most places near here are just horse people’s homes.”

“...horses?” Gueira’s head peeks out.

Meis points at Ophelia. “That?”

“I know what a horse is!” He glares at Meis. His expression softens as he looks down towards the foor. “Am I not in Miami?”

“Miami?” Meis stops what theyre doing and whip their head towards Gueira.

“Yeah!” Gueira looks happy.

“You mean like Florida?” Meis’ expression is really confused.

“Yeah?” Gueira looks concerned.

“You’re in Texas, kid.” Meis finishes fixes themselves up and pushed the mirror away. Gueira is silent for a moment.

“...how?” Gueira looks back at the ground again.

“I should be asking you that.” Meis pulls out a cigarette and lights it. “You ran from the Foundation real far you got lost, huh?” Meis takes a drag and doesn’t look too concerned till suddenly Gueira’s shaking again. Meis lowers his cigarette. “What.. happened to you, kid?”

Gueira squeezes hard on his own legs. “They...they just bagged my head and threw me in a van. I didn’t know where they were taking me. They talked about the other city states but.. but how'd I get into the middle of the Burnish desert lands..”

Meis frowns. “We’re not in the middle of the Burnish desert lands. we’re in  human civilization.”

Gueira starts crying again and leans back towards the hay. His flames grow. Meis panics and grabs Gueira away from the haystack. 

“Can you stop that!” Meis grips onto Gueira’s shoulders. “You are surrounded by tinder!”

“I won’t burn things! I swear!” Gueira yells back at Meis through his tears.

“You’re currently on fire!”

“And you’re not burnt are you!?” Gueira screams it this time. Flames spark off him. Yet Meis is still unharmed. Meis finally notices how they’re grabbing Gueira and the flames are on their arms as well. 

“See!” Gueira grabs Meis’ hands. “I’m not some monster, please. I’m just... just a kid.. like you said.” Gueira stutters through tears more. Lets go of Meis’ hand and falls backwards into the hay. The hay is unaffected as the flames around Gueira’s body persist. Gueira goes back to hugging his knees and crying. “Please don’t turn me in.. I just.. I didn’t want this.. I..”

“Okay, Okay hey!”, Meis moves towards Gueira. They hesitate reaching out towards him. Then Meis touches Gueira’s shoulder again. They take a moment to register how the flames aren’t hurting. Gueira’s still crying and hiding his face. Meis then grabs Gueira’s other shoulder and pulls him into a hug. Gueira’s surprised. 

“I’m not turning you in. I promise, okay. You can stay here as long as you need.” the focus is on Gueira’s face as his scared eyes soften and he hugs Meis back, tightening his grip and starts sobbing into Meis’ arms.

---------

Both of them are laying on the stable floor, smoking lazily. Meis is letting Ophelia nibble at their hair.

Gueira takes a drag on his cigarette and coughs it up violently. Meis laughs a little. Gueira huffs, "You know,” cough “I always thought it funny how my parents can.." .....he sighs....  "..could look at me and not see I'm gay."

Meis ignores the hidden implications in Gueira's words. "Heh. My family sees me all the time looking like this and still thinks I'm a cis male."

Gueira shifts to face Meis and takes another drag of his cigarette, blows out smoke properly. Meis looks a little proud. "Yeah but you don't know what you are anyway." Gueira picks Meis' hair out of Ophelia's mouth.

Meis ponders a moment.

"I'm.. I'm an unlit match in a haystack. Full of potential to destroy it all but stifled and buried alive."

Gueira raises an eyebrow "Poetic. Is that a song lyrics of yours?"

Meis laughs, "Hoho-noooo. You think I'm that kind of song writer?"

"It's just... if you keep talking like that you'll catch the Burnish from me." Gueira snickers and puts out his cigarette on the barn floor.

Meis smiles falters, "I always thought those things weren't human. I mean.. not that you're a thing. Or not human.." Meis turns to Gueira now. "You can't catch the Burnish.. right??"

Gueira smirks "Come closer and find out for yourself."

Meis flicks Gueira's nose.

"Oooowwwwwwyyeeeee"

Meis puts out their cigarette and stands up, dusting off themselves. "I better get back before Pa comes pounding on the barn door looking for me." Meis kisses Ophelia on the nose and pats Guiera's head, ruffling his hair. Gueira doesn't bother to fix his hair and mutters under his breathe "fuck that guy"

Meis pulls a match out of their pocket and flicks it into a nearby haystack. Gueira rolls his eyes at the gesture, unamused.

---------

Gueira's talking fast and stifling sobs. "It's so lonely and so crowded. It's feels like my head is inside a fire. Numbing and loud. These voices just talk constantly, scream at me to burn. Burn. Burn. Burn. They’re real. They’re my thoughts. But I don’t like them. And I don’t want them to be real.. I.. I understand why the Foundation wants me. But what do they want with me.. why did they choose me. They make me want to burn you alive, Meis." He sniffs and Meis seems unfazed at the concept.

" ..just consume you.. in all of this fire.. all the flames in me."

Meis reaches out to grab Gueira's hand. They're both still not looking at each other. Just staring at the barn on the floor.

"I'm an unlit match in a haystack, Guiera. Maybe I just need to be set aflame."

Gueira starts crying harder. "You don't want this.. you really fucking don't."

Meis drops Gueira's hand and grabs his face to look at him sternly. They’re both facing each other now. "You don't speak for me. I could be a Burnish!"

Between sobs "You don't need this."

"Burn."

"Stop it"

"Burn for me Guiera."

"Shut up"

"Burn me alive"

Gueira pushes away and stands up. "Stop it! Stop it! You don't want this! You don't need this burden! It's useless! It's just trouble! It's just crying and running away and ..and.. I could get you snatched up and killed! Why do you even care about me!!"

Meis slowly stands up. "So we're not talking about the fire anymore, huh?"

Gueira's tears are little fires. He's shaking and trying to hold himself by wrapping his arms around his body in a grip. Legs wobbly and feet shifting to try and stay standing up. Meis doesn't approach him. A gentle smile appears on their face and they reach out a hand.

"Burn."

Gueira closes his eyes tight and suddenly bursts into flames. The flames stay around Gueira’s body and don’t spread.

“Breathe in the fire for me, Gueira!” Meis holds out their arms. “Burn properly!”

“It burns my throat!”

“Scream!”

“I can’t! I’ll really explode!” Gueira opens his eyes to look at Meis. Meis looks excited.

"Burn this whole barn down!" Meis’ eyes are wide and is grinning big. 

"You're losing it too now. You're not even Burnish and you're a pyromaniac." Gueira looks concerned for Meis.

"You think I care about this place?" Meis’ laugh is almost evil.

"You care about Ophelia! I'm not gonna burn her house down just cause I'm being whiney and having a break down! You sound like them. Don’t make the voices in my head external! You shouldn’t encourage this!” Gueira’s yelling and the flames aren’t stopping. His hands are in fists and close to his chest, holding back.

Meis walks up to Gueira and puts a hand on his cheek. Their voice is calmer now. “You need to actually let it all out. You need to burn or it’s all going to eat you up inside. Just scream and burn all your fears away.”

Gueira’s eyes shut tight. His hands open up and to his sides as flames burst around him. Two flame like horns are above his head. He screams. His eyes are enflamed and he glares at Meis, smacking Meis’ hand off his face. 

“You want fire?!” Gueira practically growls and smoke comes out his mouth. Meis is smiling big. “I hate you Meis. I can’t stand this fucking barn. I smell of horse shit.” He’s throwing flames with every sentence. Meis doesn’t move away still. Gueira’s anger starts leaning into his sadness. “I can't just be lazy around here forever on you. Just because I'm scared. Just because I’m so fucking scared!” Gueira roars flames. “I always felt so fucking useless and lazy. I was always a burden on somebody. And I ruined everything for my family, their hopes, their dreams, all their money went to their goddamn useless hospital child. I ruined everything for them! I ruined my own dreams! I can’t even kick a fucking football!” Gueira’s sobbing. “I already lost everything. I can't.. I can't even have you, Meis. When I know this will all be lost too."

------

ono/

[libraryofloveletters]

Amnesia

Spencer Reid x Reader 

Warnings: Fem!reader, cheesy love letters, crying, break ups, mentions of blood and injuries 

Category: Angst 

Word Count: 3.3k

Author’s Note: mkay, I didn't use the whole song. It flips back and forth between the reader and Spencer’s pov, flashbacks of their relationship are in italics!

Song: Amnesia 

----

I drove by all the places we used to hang out getting wasted

I thought about our last kiss, how it felt the way you tasted

Aaron placed a paper on your desk. You glanced up at him as he gave your shoulder a small squeeze. Spencer’s eyes were on you and you could feel it. You weren't ready to tell them that you were transferring. 

Working with Spencer after the breakup was hard. 

You did what you believed was best for the team. You stood up and walked out to take a phone call, leaving everything where it was, figuring that you’ll pack up after everyone leaves. 

Spencer watches Penelope walk to your desk, her eyes scanning the paper on your desk. “It’s.. oh my god” she says, Derek looks over at her “what is it mama?” 

“Transfer papers. Y/n’s leaving the BAU”

Everyone’s eyes were on you as you walked back into the bullpen, everyone but Spencer. Penelope sat at your desk, the paper in her hand. “You’re really leaving ?” she had a small pout on her face, you nodded. “Oh baby” she pulled you into a hug, soon enough everyone came over.  

Everyone knew why you were transferring, it didn't need to be said. Spencer was on the team first, it was only fair that if one of you were going to leave then it would be you. 

“Come and visit all the time” JJ said as she and Emily hugged you, Emily nodding in agreement. 

“I’m gonna miss you mama” Derek gave you a good solid squeeze, “gonna miss you too, D” 

In typical Rossi fashion, you were greeted by two kisses on the cheek. “Don’t be a stranger kid” you smiled at him. 

Penelope hugged you once more, “promise you’ll come and see me all the time. Oh! and we’ll still have our weekly lunch and gossip” you laughed, “of course Penny, I wouldn't miss it for the world” 

Even Aaron seemed sad by your departure, “take care of yourself y/n” “you too Aaron” he gave you a small hug. 

Finally, Spencer stood up and made his way over. He gave you a quick and semi awkward hug before wishing you good luck. 

JJ, Penelope and Emily helped you pack up your desk and made you promise once more that you’ll come visit them. You glanced over at Spencer on your way to the elevator, his head was down in his book, his finger trailed across the page as he read. Once again, JJ, Emily and Penelope pulled you into a group hug before letting you get in the elevator. You smiled at them as the doors shut. 

The thought of your hug with Spencer replayed in your head. 

And even though your friends tell me you're doing fine

Are you somewhere feeling lonely even though he's right beside you?

When he says those words that hurt you, do you read the ones I wrote you?

7 months have passed since you last set foot in the BAU. You had been keeping up with the team outside of work. You had seen the girls for drinks one night, popped into Rossi’s for dinner, went over to help Derek with his latest house project and visited Aaron at one of Jack’s games. Only person you hadn’t seen was Spencer. 

At one of your girl’s nights, you met a guy named Jacob. The two of you hit it off and exchanged phone numbers, which led to a date which ended in you and Jacob starting a relationship. 

You had kept the girls in the loop about your budding romance with Jacob, but only the good parts. They didn't know about the fights and the sleepless nights. 

You were currently have one of those sleepless nights. Tumbling through your boxes of stuff from your apartment with Spencer, you came across a stack of letters. 

You opened one of them and began reading,

“To my darling y/n, 

This week has been tough. I wasn’t sure how to help you physically but I decided to help you the way I know how too, through words. Just a little reminder to make you feel better, hopefully. It was 2 years ago tonight that I asked you to be mine and you told me you loved me. You changed my life that evening, leading us on a journey that would bring us so much joy. 

Every time I look at you, my love for you grows deeper, a degree of love I didn't know I possessed. Whenever something good happens, you’re the first person I want to tell and when something bad happens, I know I can count on you to take me in your arms and tell me that everything will be okay. I can only hope that I'm that person for you because I want to be, because I'm here for you and I always will be. 

I’m the luckiest man in the world because I can say with all of my heart, that I'm in love with my best friend. I know that I can't give you the world, but I promise to hold on to you forever, there is nothing that would give me greater joy than seeing you happy. 

Your love is everything to me.

There’s not another in the world that can hold a candle to you, my love, as you are my one and only. I love you more than even the most heartfelt words can express. 

Yours always, 

Spencer. R” 

The tears rolled off your face and onto the paper. Spencer had always had a way of telling you exactly what you needed to hear, even if you weren't with him. 

Sometimes I start to wonder, was it just a lie?

If what we had was real, how could you be fine?

'Cause I'm not fine at all

Y/n and her boyfriend sat at Rossi’s dinner table with the rest of the team. He had invited her to the team dinner because they all missed her, even Spencer, although he would never admit that. 

Spencer knew she was coming, he just didn’t expect her to bring her new boyfriend. It felt wrong for her to do that because he would never bring another girl to a team dinner. 

There would never be another girl for him. 

They sat there laughing along with everyone as Derek told his story. His hand was on her shoulder and her smile was still as beautiful as it had always been. Spencer couldn’t keep his eyes off of her, she had captured his attention once again. 

“Pretty boy” Derek called out to him, breaking Spencer’s gaze away from her. 

“What is it ?” 

“Did you hear what I said ?” 

“Fran took your sister to the doctors only to find out that it was a hickey and not a burn mark. I heard you Derek” 

Y/n’s eyes were on Spencer as he spoke. Spencer glanced over at her, their eyes meeting. It felt like forever before either of them looked away. She gave him a small smile before shifting slightly which caused her boyfriend’s hand to fall off her shoulder. 

A glimmer of hope flashed through Spencer’s body. Her boyfriend’s hand falling off your shoulder, maybe it was intentional, maybe she was trying to tell him that she wanted Spencer and not him. 

Or maybe it was all in his head, he was reading too much into it. 

I remember the day you told me you were leaving

I remember the make-up running down your face

And the dreams you left behind you didn't need them

Like every single wish we ever made

I wish that I could wake up with amnesia

And forget about the stupid little things

Like the way it felt to fall asleep next to you

And the memories I never can escape

The two of you stood in your bedroom screaming at each other. 

“How am I supposed to know what you’re thinking Spencer ? I can't read your friggin’ mind!” 

“Maybe if you paid attention to someone other than yourself, you’d know how I felt!” 

You scoffed and shook your head, you could not believe him right now. “What? you know it’s true y/n” he uttered, taking a seat on the bed

“I can’t believe you. Out of all the people in the world, you call me self centred ?” 

“I didn’t say tha-” 

“No, but you did. If only I paid attention to someone other than myself right ?”  

He rolled his eyes, he was acting like a child and he knew that. The last few weeks you’ve been wrapped up in work and honestly, yes, you had been a little distant but you were going to tell him why tonight. Since he wanted to act like a child and argue with you, why not give him what he wants? Since you never pay attention right? 

“I try my best to be there for you Spencer, I always do and you know that. You told me I coddle you too much, so I gave you your space. When you were worried about your mom, I sat up with you all night and helped you come up with ways to help her. When you were in the hospital, I sat by your bed day and night. Whenever you needed me, I was there for you. I dropped everything for you. So don’t you even dare to pull that I only focus on myself shit with me.” 

He was quiet, you stood in front of him. His arms reached out for you but you stepped away. 

“I don’t think you love me anymore y/n” Spencer whispered. 

“What?” you were in shock. 

“We haven't been okay for the last few weeks. This isn’t working, we barely talk and we see each other everyday, all day.” 

“Spence, I know I've been busy with work but I-” he cut you off 

“y/n, please. don’t.” He looked up at you with a sadness in his eyes. The tears threatened to fall but you held your ground. You couldn't let him see you fall apart, you wouldn't. 

“That’s it then ?” you looked at him, your face expressionless. “3 years for nothing?” 

“I’m sorry” 

“You’re not.” You picked up your go bag from the corner of the closet. “I’ll be back for my stuff another day” 

The pictures that you sent me they're still living in my phone

I'll admit I like to see them, I'll admit I feel alone

And all my friends keep asking why I'm not around

It hurts to know you're happy, yeah, it hurts that you've moved on

Spencer was moving out today. He couldn’t stay in a house full of memories.

Memories of her.

Derek had come over to help him pack up the last of his stuff. Spencer emptied his clothing into a suitcase, just throwing everything from the drawers into the suitcase. 

A picture had fallen onto the pile of clothes, it laid face down. It must have been buried between the clothes. Spencer picked it up, flipping it over. A smile creeped onto his face, it was one of those 4 frame pictures from a photo booth. You had managed to convince him to take one with you on your first official date as a couple. 

He sat on the bed, his finger brushing over the picture. The memories of that day coming back to him like it was yesterday. 

“Spence pleaseee” you begged him. 

“Y/n, do you know how many germs those photo booths have?” He gave her a stern look. 

“I promise to let you shower with bleach or lysol. Whatever will get the germs off” you laughed, he shook his head with a smile on his face. 

“Just this once” you grabbed his hand. He nodded, “just this once” 

The first picture was of the two of you laughing, your hand rested on his cheek. The second picture, you were in the same position, the two of you were smiling at each other and his hand rested on yours. The third picture, your foreheads were against each others and the final picture was of the 2 of you kissing. A tear rolled down his face, how could he have let you go like that? It hurt him just to think of you, let alone of how he let you go. 

“Pretty bo- what’s wrong?” Derek walked into the room, taking a seat beside him on the bed. Derek looks down at his hand to see the picture. Spencer looks at him, face covered in tears. Spencer opens his mouth to speak but nothing comes out, instead he falls into Derek’s arms. 

“Shh, it’s okay. let it out man, you’ll be okay”

“Why did I let her go?” Spencer mumbled into his shoulder 

“What do you mean ?” 

“I just let her leave. I should have tried harder” 

“Spencer, she’s happy. Don’t beat yourself up okay ? You’ll be happy again too. I know you will” 

It's hard to hear your name when I haven't seen you in so long

It's like we never happened, was it just a lie?

If what we had was real, how could you be fine?

'Cause I'm not fine at all

“Oh my sweet Derek!” Penelope’s heels clicked as she made her way into the bullpen. 

Derek spun his chair around at the sound of her voice, “hey mama. What’s going on?” he got up and gave her his chair. She sat down and Derek leaned against the edge of his desk, she grabbed his hand. 

“You’ll never guess who came to visit me today!”

“Who was it babygirl?” 

“y/n! and she bought my favourite cold brew for me, oh man I miss her” Penelope let out a big breath between leaning back in Derek’s chair. Derek chuckled, “how is she?” 

Spencer’s head perked up when Penelope said your name. He couldn’t help but wander over to Derek’s desk. “She’s good, her and Jacob ended things but she’s happy.” Penelope smiled at Derek. 

“Hey Spence” Penelope smiled at him, he gave her a tight lipped smile. “Just needed to borrow this stapler” he picked up the first thing he saw which was the stapler. 

“You have one on your desk pretty boy” Derek chuckled, “yeah. mines broken” 

The truth was that Spencer just wanted to know how she was. He was glad to hear that she ended things with her boyfriend, maybe he could talk to her and fix things. There was that glimmer of hope again. 

He knew it was foolish to think that they could go back to what they had, or to even be friends but he truly hoped that she would come back to him. 

I remember the day you told me you were leaving

I remember the make-up running down your face

And the dreams you left behind you didn't need them

Like every single wish we ever made

Spencer sat at his desk when the door unlocked. You stepped in and sighed, “hey” Spencer looked up at you from his book. 

“Oh sorry, I didn't realize you’d be home. I figured you were still at the office” you mumbled, shutting the door. 

“It’s fine. You're here for your stuff?” he asked, watching as you place your keys beside his. You nodded, “everything is still where it’s always been” he said before turning his attention to his book. You headed into the bedroom to pack up the rest of the clothes you had left. 

You bumped into the bedside table knocking over the picture frame that was on it. “Shit” you bent down to pick up the pieces but you cut your finger on a piece of glass. Spencer walked into the bedroom after he heard the frame fall. 

“Y/n, are you okay ?” he helped you up, leading you to the bathroom. 

“I’m fine, I just cut my finger in the frame” you ran some water over your hand. You watched as the blood washed down the drain, not waiting to make eye contact with Spencer. “Let me get you a bandaid” he bent down to get one from the drawer, his head brushing against your leg. 

“I’m fine” you walked out of the bathroom, his hand grabbed yours. He wrapped the bandage around your finger and you let him. “Thanks” you mumbled before stuffing the rest of your clothes into the suitcase. He walked with you to the front door. 

“Thanks for letting me come get my stuff” 

“You don’t need to thank me y/n” 

You went to unlock the door when you felt Spencer’s hand on yours. “Are you sure you want to do this?” Spencer asked you quietly, you shook your head and let out a shaky breath. “Spencer... don’t do this. please” 

“I can't let you go” 

“it’s over, okay? you can't stop me from leaving” 

“y/n I love you” he whispered, looking at you. 

“I love you too Spencer, but what’s done is done” 

Spencer stood there, the two of you looking at each other. His back against the door and your hand on the knob. You felt the tear roll down your cheek, you watched his hand reach up to wipe it away. Spencer’s hand rested on your cheek, his thumb rubbing softly against your face. 

Right then and there, you wanted nothing more than to be in his arms again but you know you had to hold yourself together. 

“Move, please” you looked at him, pushing his hand away from your face. 

A small okay left his lips before he stepped away from the door. 

I wish that I could wake up with amnesia

And forget about the stupid little things

Like the way it felt to fall asleep next to you

And the memories I never can escape

If today I woke up with you right beside me

Like all of this was just some twisted dream

I'd hold you closer than I ever did before

And you'd never slip away

“Good morning sleepy head” you smiled at him from the door. 

Spencer sat up and smiled at you. “Morning” you made your way over the bed with a cup of coffee for him. You set the mug on the bedside table before hopping back into bed with him. 

Spencer lays back down making himself comfortable against your chest. “How’d you sleep sweets?” you asked him as you ran your fingers through his curls. 

“I slept okay” he flipped over and onto his stomach. He rested his cheek on your stomach while looking up at you. 

The sun shined through the cracks in the curtains. The light glistened across your bare skin, accentuating your beauty. 

“Angel” Spencer mumbled smiling up at you. 

Your thumb rubbed softly against his cheek, “hm?” you smiled at him. 

“You look like an angel” his words causing you to blush. 

Tell me this is just a dream

'Cause I'm really not fine at all

Spencer's alarm goes off. 

6am. 

He rolled over to find an empty bed. Being back in your arms, you looking like an angel from the heavens was all a dream. 

You were actually gone. 

[simplybakugou]

Quirkless

↝ An appointment to the doctor’s goes south once finding out Bakugou’s son is quirkless.

⋆ PAIRING: dad!bakugou x female!reader ⋆ WARNINGS/TAGS: swearing; angst ⋆ WORD COUNT: 3279

A/N: So I started rewatching bnha from the beginning and after watching baby Izuku cry when he found out he’s quirkless for the hundredth time, I decided to do a scenario of Bakugou’s reaction to his child being quirkless. This is also literally took two hours to write for some reason so enjoy lol. NOTE: I made a part 2 to this where Deku gives One For All to Bakugou’s son so here’s the link to that too :)

✐posted 04.07.2020✐

“Katsuo, you’re going to hurt yourself!” You called out to your four-year-old son as he ran through the streets. You could barely keep up with him in such a big crowd, only seeing his blonde head pop up every now and then.

Katsuo giggled, finally stopping and letting his mother catch up with him. Once you did catch up, Katsuo latched onto your arm. “Don’t worry, Momma, I’m fine.”

You sighed. “You know, most kids aren’t this excited to go to the doctor’s.”

“Well, I’m not like most kids because my Daddy’s the best hero in the whole world.” Katsuo puffed out his chest proudly. You chuckled, ruffling his head.

Being married to one of the top heroes wasn’t easy. You had met Bakugou at the hospital as your healing type quirk was used to help aid patients. After Bakugou had gotten reckless once, it seemed that no one around him at the time gave him a proper talk to make sure he wouldn’t get hurt that severely again. Back then, everyone was always kissing up to him, wanting to be affiliated with such a high profile hero.

Nevertheless, you didn’t hesitate to rip him a new one, infuriated that such an important hero would be so reckless and gotten so hurt. Bakugou was taken aback, not expecting a mere hospital worker to be the one to tell him off. However, since that incident he respected you for being the only one to be honest with him.

Since then, Bakugou found himself visiting your office even for the smallest of injuries. After the tenth visit, you finally caught the hint and decided to ask him out yourself. And now, you’re both happily married and have a four-year-old son.

You walked into the pediatrician’s office, signing in at the front receptionist before taking a seat, waiting for the doctor to call your name.

“Do you think the doctor will give me a quirk?” Katsuo asked, looking up at you with his eyes almost beaming and shining.

“No, the doctor can’t give you a quirk but we can find out when your quirk will come,” you said, pinching his cheek.

Katsuo sighed, leaning into you. “Okay… I just want to be strong like Daddy.”

You feigned a gasp. “You don’t want to be strong like Mommy?”

Katsuo’s eyes went wide, immediately regretting his words once believing his mother was genuinely upset. “No! Mommy you’re strong, too! I just think it’s a little itty bit cooler to have explosions than heal people.”

You laughed. “It’s okay, sweetie. I know Daddy’s quirk is cooler.” Katsuo smiled at you, latching onto your arm.

“Bakugou Katsuo?” A voice called out.

Katsuo jumped down from his chair, raising his hand. “That’s me!”

The doctor nodded. “Come with me.”

You and Katsuo followed the doctor into a separate room. You shook the doctor’s hand. “I understand that you’re here for the regular screening, Bakugou-san?”

You nodded. “Yes.”

The doctor nodded once more, instructing Katsuo to complete the regular eye exam, weight and height check, hearing exam, and any vaccinations that are needed.

“Are there any problems or any other concerns that you want addressed?” The doctor asked, writing down on his clipboard.

“Actually I have one concern,” you said. “Katsuo’s four now, almost five and he still hasn’t developed his quirk yet. Most of his classmates have already shown signs of developing a quirk. I was hoping you would be able to determine exactly when his quirk would come.”

“Hm, that is a concern especially for the son of one of the biggest heroes and the most notorious doctor in the area. Let me conduct a few x-rays and we’ll have a look,” the doctor said.

***

“Are we almost done?” Katsuo whined, wiggling his feet from his chair.

“We’re almost done. The doctor’s just looking at the x-rays he took.”

Katsuo sighed, crossing his arms over his chest. “Fine, Nagisa and Ichigo wanted to play with me soon.”

You smiled. “You can play with your friends soon, don’t worry.” The door to the room opened, the doctor stepping in. He had a blank expression on his face. “Were you able to find anything out?”

“There’s no easy way to break this to you.” The doctor took off his glasses, wiping the sweat from his forehead. He pulled a chart, an x-ray of Katsuo’s foot specifically. “Everyone with a quirk has one joint in their pinky toe. Those who are deemed quirkless have two joints.”

You looked at the x-ray, your eyes widening. “So that means…”

“You’re son is quirkless, Bakugou-san. There’s no easy way to say it.” The doctor put away the chart. “Hopefully this won’t upset your husband too bad.” He walked out of the room and the sound of the door closing echoed throughout the room.

You looked down next to you, your heart aching at the sight of Katsuo sitting in shock and staring at the space in front of him. You got up, crouching down in front of him. “Let’s go home, Suo.”

Katsuo nodded but his body still didn’t move. You pursed your lips together, deciding to hold him in your arms instead. The car ride home was outstandingly quiet.

***

“Great work today everyone!” The manager of Bakugou’s agency announced. Everyone in the office begun packing their things up, including Bakugou as he shoved his hero costume into his bag.

Kaminari threw his arm around Bakugou’s shoulder. “Hey, Kacchan!”

“I’ve told you numerous times that if you call me that I’ll fucking kill you,” Bakugou grunted, zipping the bag up.

“Oh, come on, this is like the twentieth time and you still haven’t done anything!” Kaminari waved him off. Bakugou rolled his eyes at him, slinging his bag over his shoulder. “I came here to ask if you wanted to get dinner. Kirishima and Sero might swing by, too.”

“I’d rather go to my house and see my wife and kid than hang with you dumbasses,” Bakugou said, proceeding to walk outside.

Kaminari’s jaw dropped, genuinely offended. “Well, you still hang out with us, you jerk!”

Bakugou’s phone buzzed in his pocket as he threw his bag in the trun of his cark. He answered the call. “What is it?”

“Have you seen the news?” Kirishima asked.

“No, I just finished my patrol.”

“Well, apparently a bunch of news outlets are saying that Katsuo’s quirkless,” Kirishima said.

Bakugou scoffed. “When the fuck did I ever listen to those bullshit reporters. It’s probably another stupid fucking magazine wanting their two seconds of fame.”

“I know it’s probably nothing, but I thought I’d let you know.”

“Thanks anyways.” And like that, Bakugou made his way home.

***

You were pacing back and forth in the kitchen. You didn’t know what to do. Bakugou had mentioned numerous times how he couldn’t wait to find out his son’s quirk, saying how badass it’d be if he had a combination of your quirks. And even though he had obviously changed so much since he was a child, there was still a time in his life where he viewed those who were quirkless as inferior and weak. Not to mention that bastard of a doctor had released information to numerous news outlets about Katsuo’s quirklessness. You had already contacted your lawyer when Jirou had told you about it, furious that a doctor would break confidentiality just to get some money.

Letting out a big breath, you made your way upstairs, stopping in front of Katsuo’s room. You inhaled and exhaled once, knocking on his door. You weren’t surprised when you didn’t receive an answer, pushing the door open. The room was empty, but you could hear the TV from your bedroom. You opened the door slowly to find your son on the foot of your bed. “Katsuo? Are you okay, sweetie?”

Katsuo’s eyes were ingrained on the TV screen, barely even blinking. You looked at the screen which showed your local news station covering a story of Bakugou stopping a villain during his patrol.

The reporters were praising him. “You know, Ground Zero is probably, dare I say, one of the best heroes to have existed.”

The other reporter nodded. “You’re right. That’s why it’s interesting with all the rumors of his only son being quirkless—“

You turned the TV off, placing the remote onto your nightstand. Crouching in front of Katsuo, you placed a hand on his cheek.

“Mommy?” Katsuo asked in the smallest voice.

“Yes, sweetie?”

“Why couldn’t I be strong like Daddy?”

You felt your heart shatter into pieces. You mustered up at smile, caressing his cheek. “You are strong. Katsuo, you’re--”

“But I don’t have a quirk.” Katsuo looked down at his hands. “Everyone keeps saying how strong I’ll be because of Daddy’s quirk but… but I don’t have one.”

You felt a tear drop onto your hand. “Suo…”

“I just… I just wanted to make Daddy proud! I want to be the best and be the strongest but now I’m the weakest!” Katsuo sobbed, rubbing his eyes. “And now, everyone will make fun of Daddy for having a weak kid like me!”

You felt tears streaming down your own face, hugging your son the tightest you have ever held him. “No one will think that, Katsuo! You’re not weak just because you’re quirkless!”

Katsuo stayed quiet, silently sobbing into your shoulder. You caressed his head. “Why don’t you play with Ichigo and Nagisa to make you feel better?”

Before Katsuo could say anything, you both heard the front door open and close, indicating that Bakugou had come home. “No… I wanna go to my room.”

“Okay,” you muttered, setting him down. You watched as he quietly went to his room, closing the door.

“Y/N?” Bakugou called out from downstairs.

“Coming!” You called out, quickly wiping away your tears and rubbing your eyes.

Bakugou set his bag on the sofa, taking his shoes off as well. He turned around, going towards you as you made your way down the stairs. He wrapped his arms around your waist, bringing you closer to him. “I missed you,” he murmured.

You smiled against him. “I missed you, too.”

He pulled away from you, looking behind you and frowning. “Where’s Suo?” On any other given day, Katsuo would come running down and tackle his father. But that’s on any other day.

“He’s… not feeling well,” you lied.

“Not feeling well?” Bakugou asked. He sat down on the sofa, stretching his legs out on the coffee table. His arms were aching from overworking his quirk, not to mention his gauntlets still hurt every time he used them.

“I told the doctor, he just needs some rest,” you continued to lie, noticing his discomfort in the process. “Do you want me to get you some ice?”

Bakugou shook his head, leaning forward and grabbing your hand. He led you to his lap, his arm around your hips. “It’s fine, I’ll live.” He turned the TV on, the same news channel on the screen as before.

The same news reporters continued to show footage of Bakugou. Bakugou smirked. “Look at your husband kick ass out there. Do you realize how lucky you are?”

You let out a small laugh, kissing him on the cheek. “I know. I have the best husband in the world.”

Bakugou narrowed his brows together in confusion. “The hell? You usually give me shit whenever I’m cocky.”

You nuzzled your head into the curve of his neck. “It’s nothing. I just realized how lucky I am.” Bakugou sighed, leaning his head on yours as he continued watching.

“So as we had mentioned before, today’s top story is one that was discovered just earlier this evening,” the reporter said to the camera. “Ground Zero is now as everyone knows as being one of the strongest but also a powerhouse of a hero. After his marriage to Y/N, notorious for saving countless people with her quirk, they had a son. There have been speculations from a pediatrician that Ground Zero’s son, despite having parents with strong quirks, is quirkless.”

“Tch, this fucking bullshit again,” Bakugou groaned. “These fuckers need to learn to stop spewing such bullshit. And on a fucking news channel, too.”

You felt your hands ball up into fists, feeling guilty for not just keeping the news of Katsuo being quirkless from your husband, but you also somehow felt responsible for his quirklessness. “Katsuki…”

“Hm?” He looked down at you, noticing how rigid you were. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s not bullshit…” you trailed off. “The news reporters. It’s not bullshit.”

Bakugou let you finish your sentence. There’s no way…

“Katsuo… he’s quirkless…” You didn’t realize you were crying again, trying hard not to, but you kept hearing how broken your son was earlier replay in your head.

“Why’re you crying?” Bakugou asked in the softest tone you’ve ever heard him speak in. He turned your body so that you were facing him. “Were you scared to tell me?”

You sniffled. “It’s just that Suo was so upset about it an-and I don’t know how to make him feel better, Katsuki.”

Bakugou brought his thumbs up to your face, wiping away the tears. “I’ll talk to him. Just wait here.”

You nodded as Bakugou gently moved you beside him. He made his way upstairs, stopping at Katsuo’s door. He opened it, squinting at how dark it was. He reached over, flipping the light switch on. Katsuo was curled up under his covers, the sound of little sniffles coming through. Bakugou sat down at the foot of his bed, lightly pulling at the covers to see his son. “Leave me alone, Mommy!”

“Suo, it’s me.” Katsuo’s eyes widened, looking up at his father.

“Daddy…” he whispered. “I wanna be alone.”

“Well I wanna be here and ‘cause I’m older I’m in charge.” Bakugou lifted him up, setting him down beside him. “Mommy told me you went to the doctor and they told you that you’re quirkless.” Katsuo flinched at how straightforward his father was but it wasn’t surprising at the same time. Bakugou knew it wouldn’t help anyone if he had beat around the bush.

“Yeah, I’m quirkless and I’m useless.”

“Who said being quirkless means you’re useless?” Bakugou asked.

Katsuo’s lip quivered. He was trying to keeps his tears inside, not wanting to cry in front of his father who was known for being stone cold. In fact, he only shows emotion, except for rage, in front of Katsuo and you. Regardless, Katsuo had this image that his father wouldn’t want to see him cry.

And yet, Bakugou recognized this. He maneuvered Katsuo up onto his lap and Katsuo still hung his head low to avoid eye contact. “You can cry, Katsuo, there’s nothing wrong with that.”

“I can’t cry!” Katsuo exclaimed, surprising Bakugou. “I’m already weak because of not having a stupid quirk but I can’t be even weaker by crying like a baby!”

Bakugou sighed. He wasn’t completely surprised by his behavior. It was ingrained into Bakugou since he was a kid from his own mother to not let others take care of him, it being a sign of his weakness. He had to deal with his own problems alone, blaming other people for being nosy or worthless for not being able to catch up with him. But the minute he became a father, he refused to let his child endure the mental battles he had to face everyday.

Bakugou brought his son into his arms, hugging him. Katsuo was taken aback, not because his father never hugs him, but because he was always told by his friends how hardcore and badass his father was. His friends would make fun of any boy who would cry, even as young children. This made Katsuo refrain from doing so as well.

“You’re not weak, Katsuo. And whatever little shit friend told you so is just a little shit,” Bakugou said, remembering the shitty kids who followed him around when he was a kid. “There’s nothing wrong with crying and there’s nothing wrong with being quirkless.”

Katsuo gasped, his lip quivering intensifying. “But I don’t have a quirk, Daddy! You’re so strong and so cool and you can make all these explosions! And Mommy, too! She’s… Everyone knows her for saving people with her quirk! But I have nothing; I’m useless!”

“You’re not useless.” Bakugou didn’t hesitate to say this. “Having a quirk doesn’t determine your strength. You can still be strong without a quirk.”

“But I can’t be a hero like you!”

Bakugou pulled away, looking down at his son. From looks alone, he was a carbon copy of Bakugou from the ash blonde hair to the crimson eyes. But he was different at the same time. He had your gentleness, your ability to care for others without even thinking anything of it.

“Being a hero isn’t having a flashy quirk. A hero is someone who helps others without asking for anything in return. All it takes is will and wanting to help others. A quirk just makes that easier.” Katsuo looked up at his dad in awe. Bakugou smiled, putting a hand on his head. “If anything, we heroes are cheating by using our quirks to make life easier for us. I can’t even fucking remember the last time I got fixed up regularly by a normal doctor when I have Mommy around.”

Bakugou was able to get a laugh out of Katsuo. “You’re gonna be way better than us heroes. You’re gonna have to learn how to live in this shitty world without any shortcuts. But you know what?”

“What, Daddy?” Katsuo asked quietly.

“You’re also gonna be stronger, ‘cause you don’t need a quirk to help you around.”

Katsuo smiled, wiping his tears away. “Can I still be a hero? Can I really?”

“Of course, who the fuck is gonna say no?” Bakugou asked jokingly. “You know, I went to school with a shithead and he was quirkless, too. And he told everyone how he was gonna be a great hero. It seemed crazy at first but now he’s probably even stronger than I am.”

Katsuo’s widened. “No way! Really?!”

Bakugou nodded. “Mhm. I still can’t stand him to this day, but I’m not stupid enough to still believe he isn’t a hero.”

Katsuo grinned, tackling his dad for a hug. “Thank you, Daddy. This is why you’re the best hero in the whole universe!”

“Universe? That’s a little much, kid, even for me,” Bakugou joked, earning a giggle from Katsuo. “Before you go to bed, go say good night to Mommy.”

“Okay!” Katsuo jumped down, running down the stairs so fast the sudden noise scared you.

You were agonizing over the outcome of all of this, having no idea how to make your son feel better. “Suo?”

Katsuo walked up to you, hugging you. “Don’t be sad, Mommy. Mommy was sad ‘cause I was sad. But now I’m happy so Mommy has to be happy, too!”

You were confused at how quickly Katsuo was able to act so differently once Bakugou spoke with him. Katsuo pulled away, kissing your cheek. “I’m going to sleep!”

“Okay…” You were still so confused.

Bakugou made his way downstairs, ruffling Katsuo’s hair as he ran back upstairs. He sat down next to you, putting his arm around you. You looked at him with disbelief. “What did you say?”

“The truth.” Bakugou turned the TV back on. “He doesn’t need the help of our quirks to be whatever the fuck he wants to be.”

You smiled, hugging your husband. “You really are a hero, Katsuki.”

Bakugou smirked. “Damn right. And that kid’s gonna be an even better hero than me.”

[sondepoch]

Chapter 1

Hearts on Three (Satan x Reader)

The athlete and the nerd. The rich kid and the scholarship student. The girl who will constantly joke about breaking your knee caps and the boy who will actually do it. There are so many ways to describe your relationship with Satan. Too many, if you’re being honest. He’s your best friend. The smartest tutor you’ve ever had. He also spends thousands of dollars for you at the drop of a hat and holds your hand when you’re feeling down. And in the beginning, that's okay. Neither of you let yourselves get bogged down by labels, both of you content to just savor this newfound friendship. But deeper feelings always have a way of complicating things. And for better or for worse, you and Satan are no exception.

01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | ✎

MASTERLIST

Volleyball is far from a quiet sport.

No matter what's happening, there's always noise: the sound of a hand colliding with a ball during a serve, the sound of shoes squeaking against the floor in preparation for a receive, the sound of hoarse shouts and strained calls whenever someone is open, ready to take the next touch.

The sport is built out of the fabric of communication, players constantly shouting to claim balls, ask for a toss, ready the team for defense.

Add in the cheers of the audience, and then it's as if the noise never stops.

"Game point, girls!" Your coach's words are almost inaudible, hovering under the roars of the audience who are still cheering for the last point. "Keep it up and we end this here!"

You echo similar words of encouragement to your team before finding your position, staring straight ahead as someone serves the ball over.

Your feet move the moment you hear the slap of the serve, darting to your defense position as you bend your knees and crouch low. You can tell that the ball is going to soar back onto your side of the court as soon as you see the way the opposing team's libero has positioned her arms—the limbs perfectly parallel but far too deep for the ball to go anywhere but back to you after one touch.

"Freeball!" You shout, stepping away from defense to back into your approach line, but by the time you're ready to call for the ball, your setter has already tossed to the right-side hitter.

Inwardly, you can't help but feel a pang of jealousy at that. You know it's stupid, that you're the one person on the team who's probably touched the ball more than anyone else, but your fingers ache for more. Adrenaline runs through your veins thicker than blood at this point, and all you know is that you want it to be you who ends this match.

"Back, back!" The team's libero calls the ball as she positions herself under it. This time, it bounces off her arms and sails straight into the hands of the setter, who tosses it to the outside hitter.

But then, the team sends the ball flying straight toward your defense specialist.

It's the worst mistake they can make, with match point weighing against them.

You lock eyes with your team's setter the second you sense the trajectory of the ball, mirth coloring both your expressions as you collectively realize that the match is as good as won. As expected, the ball arches into the setter's hands within seconds, and then you've begun your approach, your feet tracing the familiar left-right-left pattern before you jump up, flying high.

You don't bother calling for the ball, seeing no need to alert the setter of your readiness. You already expect her to toss to you—the look in her eyes earlier was practically screaming it.

What you don't expect is for your silence to reward you with an empty defense, the entire court diving to block the other hitter as the girl on the other side of the court calls for the ball at the top of her lungs, none of them realizing that the ball is being delivered to you until it's too late.

Another mistake.

The last one they'll make in this game.

The ball connects with your hand at the peak of your jump, when you're so impossibly high above the net that you can see the disbelief on your opponents' faces even as you jerk your arm down and slam the ball into the ground, letting it fall with enough force to make every one of them flinch.

The cheers begin before your feet have even landed on the ground.

You don't hear the referee when he blows the whistle, the sound of it drowned out by the whooping and hollering of your school in the bleachers, all of them screaming in support for what was definitely one of the most intense matches you've had thus far.

A grin spreads across your face, proud and confident.

Your team lines up behind you within seconds, all of them eager to shake hands with the team and then break off to continue celebrating. It's all over so fast, and you don't even have time to begin shifting impatiently from foot to foot before the girls are done, arms thrown up in celebration as they dive into a celebratory huddle in the center of the court.

You waste no time in running to join them, literally throwing yourself at the heap of girls and landing with your weight balanced on a poor sophomore as you high five everyone on the team.

"That was amazing, guys!" You don't bother jumping off the sophomore's back, making yourself comfortable as you begin going over everything you guys did right, and how proud you are of the team.

At least, that's what you would do.

A cough from behind you stops you in the middle of a sentence, and you turn around, already knowing who to expect.

"Hi, Headmaster Barbie!" You give an enthusiastic wave to the man in front of you.

"Please," He begins, his expression mortified as usual when you address him so casually. "Do not call me that. We have had this conversation before."

"Yeah, yeah," You mumble, hopping off the girl you'd been piggybacking on. "What can I do for you, Big B?"

The man sighs. He should have known better than to expect you to call him by his proper name. You've called him 'Headmaster Barbatos' precisely once in your life, back when you first met him. Never again.

"We discussed over the summer that you would be needing a tutor should your grades fall to a certain point—"

A small part of you cringes, having taken that memory and burnt it to a crisp. But now you remember that Barbatos did tell you that if you wanted to stay on the volleyball team, you couldn't fail any classes.

And you're currently failing all of them but one.

"Gosh, Big B, I'd love to stay and chat, but I actually think I should go talk with my team for now. We just won, you know? I should be with them. Plus, I can't let them get too cocky. It's captain's responsibility to go over the things that went wrong, and I should head over—"

"Your co-captain appears to be fulfilling those duties just fine for you."

You can already hear your team's setter chastising one of the girls for calling a few balls at the beginning of the game that she should have left to the libero, and you bite your lip. As usual, Barbatos is one step ahead of you.

"Okay, but there are more than a few recruiters here today. I'm sure they want to speak with me. That last hit of mine was really flashy, y'know? Anyways, I should probably go. If you think about it, it's technically my future at stake. Wouldn't want to compromise that, so I'll just—"

Barbatos steps in front of you before you can slide out of the situation, sealing off your escape route.

"You spoke to four recruiters before the match began."

You want to correct him, want to tell him that you were actually approached by five, but you feel like that won't help your situation.

"Moving on, you have either ignored all the letters sent to your mailbox telling you to improve your grades, or you have attempted to fix them and have still failed. In light of this, the school has decided to assign you a tutor."

"You mean you decided to assign me a tutor." You throw a pout at Barbatos, making it obvious that you hate the idea of spending any more time with studies than you have to.

"Yes, I made the decision to assign you a tutor. The alternative was allowing you to fail all your finals this trimester, whereupon you would be kicked from the volleyball team, lose your scholarship, be removed from the school, and be forced to repeat your senior year elsewhere."

You say nothing, merely opting to frown at Barbatos's shoes. Stupid leather loafers. What business do they have looking so pristine?

"Anyway, I managed to find a suitable student willing to be your tutor, and—"

"A student?"

Your ears perk up at that. You were expecting that you'd have to sit for three hours a day with some old fart who doesn't know the first thing about volleyball. But if it's a kid your age, then…

"Yes." Barbatos gestures to the student next to him, whom you only now realize has been standing here the whole time. "This is Satan. He's going to be responsible for making sure you pass your midterm and final exams."

"A pleasure to meet you." The boy forces a curt smile to his face, nodding at you.

You stare at him.

Tall. Blonde. Green eyes. Attractive in the stereotypical sense, the kind of prettyboy one of your teammates might date. Looks like he might be athletically inclined, but his manicured nails make you doubt he's played any intense sports within the past three weeks.

"Hi!" You blurt, extending a hand out for Satan to shake. You internally cringe, wishing that Barbatos hadn't chosen to introduce you to your tutor immediately after a match. There's sweat dripping down the back of your neck, and you haven't even had time to drop your knee pads to your ankles. You can feel hair sticking to your forehead.

I look like a mess.

Satan is enough of a gentleman not to comment on it, shaking your hand politely.

"Have we…" You study Satan's face, wondering if it's just your imagination. "Have we met? I feel like I've seen you before."

Satan arches an eyebrow, glancing at Barbatos. You might be reading their expressions wrong, but you swear they seem to be asking each other a silent question: Is she serious?

"You…" Barbatos shakes his head, sighing. "Satan is your student president. Your class elected him."

"Hm," You mumble, skeptical. "I don't think that's how I know him. I had a tournament during elections and all, so I didn't see any of this year's candidates."

The edge of Satan's lips quirks up in amusement.

"Satan has been your student president," Barbatos informs you. He's practically hissing, his voice taking on the tone of a parent embarrassed over their child. "He's one of our best and most prolific students. Your class has elected him all four years. How have you not noticed?"

You frown, tapping your chin.

Now that Barbatos mentions it, you are pretty sure you've heard of Satan before. But that doesn't explain why you recognize his face. Your life has been centered around athletics from the day you found volleyball—and Satan might judge you for it, but you've never paid attention to the school executive board. Anyone who isn't an athlete gets lost in the sea of faces, and...oh!

"Freshman year!" You exclaim, eyes lighting up. "I saw you when we were in our freshman year! You were on the Varsity winter track team—and—and—and your mile time was 5:11.02! I remember because it was even faster than mine!"

You can see Satan's eyes widen the second you rattle that number off, definitely having forgotten it but recognizing it as correct the moment you mention it to him.

"How do you remember that?" He asks incredulously, looking almost mortified that you know him not for any of his academic achievements but for something he clearly attaches no significance to.

"How could I have forgotten?!" You ask in response, eyes wide in wonder at the realization that this absolute legend is going to be your tutor.

"See?" Barbatos smiles. "She has a good memory for things that she cares about. Your work is already cut out for you, Satan."

The man flashes you his usual cryptic smile, though you swear you detect a hint of pride in his gaze.

"Regardless, I'll leave you two to acquaint yourselves. Satan, I trust you'll be able to find your dorm. And you," Barbatos's expression morphs into one of warning, though the amusement beneath the mask is easy to find in his eyes. "Stay out of trouble."

"Thank you, Barbatos."

"Later, Big B!"

"That's Headmaster Barbatos to you both," He mumbles under his breath, shaking his head as he leaves you and Satan to go speak with your coach, likely to inform the man of your poor academic state.

Next to you, Satan laughs.

"I've never seen someone actually make that man express emotion." Satan flashes you an approving glance, impressed. "You really must be something special."

"I totally am!" You don't bother pretending to be humble. "Did you see my hit at the end of the game? It was perfect! I can't remember the last time I got to spike down on empty defense!"

You continue to chatter animatedly, waving your hands around wildly as you describe all your favorite plays from the game.

"Oh, oh, and did you see that feint my co-captain did in the first set? The other team was so confident when they went to block me—even I was surprised when she just set it over! She's such a great girl, you know? You should come to more of our matches! Maybe we could even set up a day where I go to one of your track meets and you come to one of my matches, and—"

For the first time since you began rambling, Satan interrupts you.

"I don't do track anymore."

You blink.

"Wait, really?" A momentary stupor washes over your senses as you try to recall everyone on the Varsity track team. Sure enough, Satan's face doesn't come to mind—probably the reason why it took you so long to remember him in the first place. "Why'd you quit?"

Satan grins at you.

"I'll tell you when you get your first A."

Satan is utterly unsurprised to learn that his dorm is in the same building as yours. It's exactly the type of thing Barbatos would do—that slimy bastard—force the two of you together so that Satan has no choice but to tutor you, bringing your grades up so that the school doesn't have to lose its oh so precious star athlete.

Yeah, Satan isn't too excited at the prospect of having to tutor you.

And in truth, who would be?

An athlete like you screams trouble. Sure, you seem like the nicest person Satan has ever met and yeah, there's a certain quality about you that makes you impossible to dislike. But the blonde is too familiar with the world of jocks to fall for appearances.

He eyes the corner of your hand, studying the various envelopes that you balance between your fingers.

Some of them are letters from recruiters, he knows, and others are random brochures. He sees a sheet of notes your coach had handed to you, telling you to go over it so that you could run it by the girls tomorrow at practice, but most prominent is the variety of colorful envelopes that are wedged between your index and middle fingers.

Confession letters.

Three of them, to be precise.

And this wasn't even one of your biggest games.

Those letters are probably the single biggest reason why Satan is eyeing you so warily. He doesn't know a single person in the world who can accept love letters on a regular basis and not let it get to their head. Hell, Satan used to receive love letters on a regular basis, and he let it get to his head.

It was almost strange, Satan remembers, watching you accept all three confession letters with such a sweet smile—your bright eyes never once taking on a tint of condescension even as suitors readily set you up for it.

The boy frowns to himself, shaking his head.

Satan knows what people are like. He knows what you're going to be like. Too much of the spotlight will burn anyone in the long run, and Satan's been hearing about your volleyball skills from his friends long enough to know that you've been under the spotlight longer than anyone should be. That kindness you wear so naturally has to be nothing more than a facade, a mask of lies to make people like you. You look sincere enough, but you're obviously just a brilliant actress. A wizard at hiding your true expressions. Dumb when it comes to school, but secretly a mastermind of manipulation.

"Wait!" You blurt, eyes wide. "We have to go back!"

"Oh?" Satan arches an eyebrow, not particularly bothered by the idea. "Why?"

"I left my kneepads in the gym!"

Satan blinks.

Okay, he takes all of that back.

There's no way you're a mastermind of anything. Except volleyball, maybe. And if your head is this empty, it's a wonder you're even able to be that good at that.

"The kneepads," Satan begins, impossibly slow, hoping that you'll come to the realization on your own. "That you left in the gym," He continues, eyes round in disbelief as you nod your head ardently. "That are currently on your knees?"

You blink. Once, then twice. And then you slowly drop your head to your knees, eyes widening as an impossibly quiet "oh" escapes your lips.

Satan snorts.

"I thought you had a good memory for the things you cared about," The blonde says, arching an amused eyebrow your way. It's probably the first time tonight where he's seeing you genuinely embarrassed and not just recklessly optimistic.

"I—I do!" You defend indignantly, hiking your duffel bag higher around your shoulder as you awkwardly try to find your balance under the weight of it. "It's just that I normally put my knee pads around my ankles after a game, and so I assumed that I left them behind when I couldn't feel them there!"

A pretty decent excuse, the blonde knows. Heck, even he was a bit thrown off today when Barbatos approached him and told him that this was the day he would get to meet his tutoring student. But Satan finds mirth in your momentary fluster, so he doesn't let you know any of this, his grin only widening as he nods disbelievingly.

"I'm sure," He says with enough dismissal in his voice for you to know he doesn't believe you.

"Hey!" You protest. "I'm being serious! I'm not stupid!"

"A debatable subject, based on recent evidence."

Satan can't even get another step in before you've slung your duffel bag off of your shoulder, whacking Satan straight in the chest with it. The blonde stumbles at the force of it, abruptly realizing that the muscles on your arms are no joke, but he regains his balance soon enough.

"Is that seriously any way to be treating your new tutor?" His words are serious but his voice betrays him, amusement sliding in when he was hoping to tease you some more.

"If anything, you should be treating me better," You argue back. "Aren't you, like, supposed to be getting me hyped about learning or something?"

"All in due time," He responds with a sigh, heart deflating at the prospect. Again, you seem like a nice enough person. But Satan's intuition is screaming at him that you're going to be a nightmare of a student—no matter how fun you seem to be.

"Is this our building?" He asks, trying to read the sign in front of the dorm in the darkness, to no avail.

"Yup. Haven't you been here before?

"Only once," Satan mumbles as he holds the door open for you. "Barbatos had me move in today. He probably wanted me here to keep you in line."

You roll your eyes at that, not dignifying Satan with a response as you pass the sign-in log to him, waiting so that the two of you can walk to the elevator together.

"What's your room number?" He asks, only when he's trying to figure out which button to press.

"665. Top floor."

Ah, Satan thinks, amusement flooding his veins as he presses the neon six. So not only are the two of you in the same building, but your rooms are literally across from each other.

Definitely something Barbatos would do.

Satan feels like he should be annoyed at that, because it certainly wasn't a part of the bargain he struck with Lucifer and it should have been mentioned to him at the start, back when he first agreed to become a tutor.

And yet, he can't bring himself to give in to the familiar simmer of wrath, not with you standing so close next to him, wiggling your eyebrows and making silly expressions in the mirror that Satan can only pretend he isn't enjoying.

MASTERLIST

01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | ✎

Word count: 3.7k

Notes: okay what up so this series is going to be different from everything i’ve done before because (1) there won’t be an update schedule, ima try my best to update at least weekly (maybe even twice per week :3) but college will definitely be taking priority (2) i usually try to avoid referring to gender, even in my fics where mc isn’t gender neutral, but because this is an mc on a girl’s vball team, her gender will be referenced a lot (3) this isn’t going to be plot driven like most of my works, it’s honestly just an indulgent slow burn fic and that is the driver (4) yeah you might have already figured this one out but the mc in this fic has personality. she is confident, spirited, and full of life in every way - and although most of my reader inserts normally have some semblance of a personality, i’m rlly not holding back with this one. i totally totally understand if any of these reasons make you not want to read this story. if that’s the case, i thank you for even giving it a chance - but if you’re down to stick around, buckle up bc this series is going to be a LONG ride and i can’t wait to go on it with you all <3

Comment & Like

Thank you for reading <3

I do not own the rights to Obey Me! or any of the characters within it.

[skellebonez]

Smoke, Flasks, and Unfinished Tasks: Chapter 4

AO3 Link!

Chapter 1 Link!

Chapter 2 Link!

Chapter 3 Link!

Summary: No one is happy with Wukong’s suggestions, not even Wukong himself. But they only have so many options and depending on what they learn from certain demons they have fewer options going forward.

Warnings: Discussion of past canon violence in Journey To The West

Chapter 4: Oh I can back them up and than some, show me what you got

"Have you lost your fucking MIND!?” Pigsy snapped, getting up and grabbing the tails of Wukong’s cape to drag him down to eye height. “DBK? The Demon Bull King? You want us to team up with HIM!? You buried him under a mountain for centuries, what makes you think he’d agree to that!?”

“Red Son.”

Pigsy froze for a moment, grimacing as he began taking the time to think this response over. The Demon Bull family had a... difficult relationship with Red Son, one that was undeniably unhealthy (and now that he had seen how much Red had mellowed out and blossomed since defecting to their side it was one the pig was glad he was out of). But the two demons were clearly protective of him in their own twistedly weird way.

He remembered how much they fought during their attempts to gain Princess Iron Fan's fan, fueled by anger at Wukong defeating their son and sending him off as Guanyin's disciple. MK had told him how PIF herself had defended Red from DBK when he was possessed by the White Bone Spirit, Red explaining that they had never stood for anyone physically hurting him outside of a proper battle when the topic eventually came up again, so there was some level of... care there somewhere. Bizarre and messed up care. Even if he didn't think it was anywhere near enough to make up for whatever had happened to undo Guanyin's teachings, it was something...

Something that they could use to their advantage to get them on their side temporarily.

"I hate it to admit it," Pigsy conceded with a gruff sigh as he let go of the monkey's cape tassels. "But you might be right. If they know he's missing they'll come runnin to look for him, and I’d rather them learn from us and work with us than fight against them if they find out themselves.”

He looked back at his phone, setting up the map on his phone to the nearest docks. “I don't like it, and if we DO ask for their help there ain't no way we're letting them get close to being alone with Red! I really don’t like that we even have to consider it, but if that’s what it takes I’ll do it.”

To say everyone looked surprised by his quick concession was an understatement, even Wukong himself raised an eyebrow at the shorter man. But no one knew what to really say to argue against it.

“So...” Wukong finally said as he stood with a smirk, dried and looking as regal as he ever did. “What’s the official plan, brother?”

“Sandy, head straight for the docks,” Pigsy said with a smirk back, pointing to each of them in turn. “You’re gonna talk to the dock masters and get all the info you can out of them. Tang, you and I are going together and I want you to call all the food stalls and shops in the area to see if they’re still open and if anyone is still workin who remembers seeing them. If anyone finds something we call the other and keep them updated.”

He turned to Wukong, eyes blazing in that same determination he had during their old journey. “First off, get an umbrella from my lost and found so you don’t drench yourself again. Then I want you to head to the weather station. Human disguise, no disguise, I don’t care how much you gotta show off just get them to stop the storm. You’re the only one of us with a lawyer on speed-dial, get them to bail you out if you gotta.”

Had it been 500 years ago Wukong probably would have teased the pig demon for taking charge like this. But now, all Pigsy could see in his face was the same determination he felt and some odd aura of pride coming from him. “Whatever it takes.”

“Whatever it takes.”

----------

The plan was working surprisingly well, all things considered. Over the course of the last hour Sandy had managed to find his boat (it had indeed been confiscated for illegally parking and the dock-master was more than willing to let it slide with a warning) so they knew where they were supposed to go. Wukong himself had made quick work of the weather station, apparently just showing up as The Monkey King was enough to get the station head to approve a change of weather for the rest of the day (once the poor guy on duty managed to get him to look at the screen to prove he was really there). At the very least Wukong’s lawyer would have a much easier week.

Because of this, Wukong (now in human disguise again) and Sandy were able to meet back up with Pigsy and Tang, the later after taking the most obvious route to get to the food stalls the trio was last seen at. If he had found any evidence of them taking that route it would have made everything so much easier, but he hadn’t even found a scrap of cloth. But progress was progress.

“And you’re sure you never saw them?”

“Sorry, man, I’ve been here all day and I’d remember seein the guy who brings my lunch twice a week and saves the city twice as much,” the cashier said with an apologetic shrug. “Wish I could help ya more... when ya see the guy, tell him I’ll hold his game for him, it’s the least I could do.”

“I will, and you’ve helped us a lot more than you think,” Tang said, turning to leave the shop. “Thank you for your time!” He rushed out, grouping back up with the other three adults (and one cat).

“OK, apparently MK was supposed to pick up another game from this used game store before heading to training and they never came to pick it up!” He announced, accepting the offered coffee from Sandy and taking a gulp of it and wincing at the bitterness. But he needed the fuel. “Oh, that is disgusting... But back to the search, we know a rough area where they had to disappear from now!”

“Hmn...” Wukong wasn’t looking at Tang, instead watching the high space between two buildings to the side of them. “And I bet a certain someone we talked about earlier knows about that area too...”

The rest of the group looked down the alley and finally put two and two together about where exactly they were and realized it lead into the part of the shopping district where Pigsy always went to get fresh ingredients. The exact same part where a certain eight legged demon happened to make her home underground. When they followed Wukong’s gaze upward they could see the tiny spiderweb that had caught his attention.

“Oh God damn it,” Tang groaned.

----------

No one was happy about this, least of all Pigsy and Tang. But small bits of luck, they weren’t entering the lair of the Spider Queen by falling down a scary nightmare hole this time. Instead they drove to that nearest dock for Sandy to take the confiscated boat so the three non-flying men could enter from the escape route they had made the last time they had been down there (with some assistance getting through the still broken sewer drain). Once they were under the still wide open hole Wukong had flown them all up on his cloud one by one.

And it was still as musty and spider webby as it had been before. They knew it was pointless to try sneaking around, instead just keeping their guard up as they made their way toward the main lair.

“Maybe she’s out,” Sandy offered when they saw no sign of her, scratching his head.

“Or maybe she’s been watching you the whole time~.” The three non-monkey team members jumped at the voice of the Spider Queen, moving closer to Sun Wukong as she slowly descended from the ceiling. “Monkey King! To what do I own the prestigious displeasure of seeing you again?” Her voice held the same playful tone as before, but there was an edge of tenseness and anger under it. “I certainly hope you haven’t harmed any more of my family on your way in, ape.”

From their vantage point his teammates could see Wukong’s fur bristle in annoyance at the slight. “I think you of all people would know not to call me that.”

“Ah, yes, I remember our last meeting,” The Spider Queen bit back as she made herself comfortable on the other side of the room, as comfortable as she could get in a stance clearly ready to run off at any moment. “The one where you squashed all of my sisters alive and I barely managed to escape. My apologies. It’s good to know you haven’t forgotten about me entirely.”

“If you play nice I can promise this meeting will have much fewer spider guts decorating your walls,” Wukong hissed out, crossing his arms as he took a step forward. “It will be much shorter too. We just want some information.”

The Spider Queen hissed right back, crawling back a foot up the wall. “I’m not stupid enough to want to fight you again, not now. Go on, ask so we can get this little reunion over and done with.”

Tang watched as the spiders that surrounded them all seemed to move back in tandem with their queen, following suit for their own safety most likely. She was much more subdued this time around, and there was no playful tone in her voice anymore. Something told him the stories he pictured, where Monkey King squashed the six other spider sisters in tiny spider forms, were much less accurate than he originally imagined. He shuddered at the thought.

“Did you have any spiders out near the shopping district before the storm today?”

Raising an eyebrow, the Spider Queen waved her hand and called over a small handful of her normal sized spider minions. She held them up to her ear, listening to them without taking her gaze off the Monkey King. “Ah I see... so the little Monkie Kid and his friends are missing.” She allowed herself a smirk for half a second before frowning again. “Didn’t know going missing was contagious.”

“What does that mean?” Tang asked without thinking, flinching back when her gaze fell on him for a moment.

“That little trio isn’t the first group my spiders have overheard people looking for,” The Spider Queen elaborated, gently putting the spiders on her nearest web. “And unfortunately for me, that means it’s probably good you came here. Fantastic.” She crawled down off the wall, moving sideways and over to little cauldron pot thing she had planned on stewing Pigsy and Tang in, picking up... a business card? “Catch.”

She tossed the card to Wukong who caught it effortlessly, looking a the slightly haphazardly drawn but surprisingly professionally printed card with surprise. “’Jin and Yin, Gold and Silver Demon Tech Services. For whatever anti-Monkie Kid and non-anti-Monkie Kid tech you may need...’? Those two are still around?”

“And they owe me a replacement for something of theirs your Kid broke the last time he was here, probably would have gotten it sooner if I had noticed faster,” she scoffed, shaking her head. “They were supposed to meet me here a week ago and they’ve vanished to who knows where. No one who has any orders from them can find them. It’s like they were sucked into one of their calabashes.”

“Their WHAT?” Wukong snapped, his voice echoing in the cave and making his companions flinch at the volume.

“Did... did that Kid not tell you?” The Spider Queen asked in genuine surprise. “Those two wouldn’t shut up about it after it happened, they’ve been making calabashes with some kind of VR tech and somehow managed to catch the Monkie Kid on their own! It didn’t work for long, obviously, but the fact they had him went to their heads for like a month. Pretty obnoxious, actually.”

There was a growl heard from the back of Wukong’s throat. “Well... this isn’t exactly what I expected to hear from you.”

The Spider Queen hummed, looking thoughtful for a moment. “You know, I have no love lost for your kids or those two and quite frankly I don’t care what happens to them.” She smirked a bit at Pigsy’s snapped “HEY!” before frowning again. “But them going missing together? That just feels like an even worse storm is coming down and I don’t like the feeling of how that bodes for me. Maybe nothing will come of it. Maybe it’ll help me. But I don’t want to take that chance.”

Suddenly she jumped backward, situating herself on a large web far out of their reach high in her cave. “Your kids vanished after they got to the food market. They went into a tea shop and never came out. That’s all my babies saw. Now take your leave.”

----------

“Yin, this is a terrible idea!”

“Well we can’t exactly get out of ‘ere while she’s gone, now can we?” Yin snapped, bandaging a small cut on his elder brother’s head from when he hit the floor. “Do you have a better idea?”

The Gold Horned Demon sighed, shaking his head once the bandage was on. “No... no I don’t. I should though, I’m the one that got us into this bloody mess.”

“And now you can be the one to get us out of it. Hopefully.” Yin bit his lip, listening carefully as he picked something up. “Right, she’ll think you’re still in here restin’ after she hit you with too much of that smoke stuff. I’ll cover you as long as I can. Ready?”

“Ready.”

“Is your name Jin?”

“... Yes.”

[bl00dgutsgl0ry]

prompt 16 from the angst list w/ childe (“you’ve changed”) but is it possible to have a happy ending 🥺👉🏻👈🏻

Pairing - Childe/Tartaglia/Ajax x Reader

Warnings - None I don’t think?

Word Count - 2.5k

Other Comments - I’ve tried to write this like five times now oh my god, also yes I know the header looks dumb I slept on it and now I hate it but I didn’t wanna make you wait any long I’m so sorry! ANYWAY I love this prompt and I love writing angst with all my heart hehe. ENJOY! No I did not proof read this I am currently late for work LOL

       Life used to be so simple when you were younger. You had a lovely close knit family, you went to a great school, you had great friends. All around you were a happy little kid. The best thing you will ever remember from your childhood was your best friend Ajax. Everything was so simple.

 Ajax was the poster child of a “perfect kid”. He was well liked by his teachers and peers, he had superb grades, he was becoming a young prodigy in his combat class, and above all, he was your all time best friend. You two were inseparable ever since you had met when your parents had all gotten to know each other once at an event. 

      No one ever really saw one of you without the other, and if they ever did come across such a sight, it would never last long. You two also almost went through the entirety of school being in the same class, and if you weren’t, Ajax would always find a way to catch you right as you were being dismissed. You two had the most innocent yet cliché childhood friendship, as you two played with each other or hung out day after day. 

      “One day (y/n) I’m going to marry you! I promise!” Ajax enveloped you in a hug as the two of you giggled.

      This lasted for quite some time, that was until Ajax had turned eighteen. His combat skills had skyrocketed since his adolescent classes and competitive matches. Combat came like second nature to him, and that didn’t go by unnoticed. Very quickly Ajax got an offer for a job, one that he would never tell you details about. You remember the shock that enveloped you when Ajax excitedly spouted the good news to you.

      You didn’t know whether to be happy or sad. You wanted to be happy for your childhood friend because this was an amazing offer for him, and an incredible opportunity to keep growing. But on the other hand you wanted to be sad because you knew you would see him less and less as time went on, not only that but you were still just so uncertain about this job. Ajax never withheld information about what was going on in his life until now; what if he got himself into something awful? Nonetheless you quickly plastered a shocked and excited expression on your face, as you rambled different forms of congrats and praise for being so good. Before Ajax left to go back to his home you gave him the tightest hugged and made him promise to stay close. Ajax was floored that you valued your friendship with him so much you would make him promise something he would never give up. 

      Time had passed and you noticed yourselves slowly drifting apart. It went from calling each other less, to only texting, then to texting less until you guys barely talked. You understood Ajax was busy, but it still stung seeing you what you thought would’ve been your life long friend slowly forget about you. That was until you had received something in the mail with a very familiar name on it. Ajax.

      A small black box containing what looked to be a hand made scrappily hammered ring along with a letter at the bottom landed on your desk in your bedroom, assuming one of your parents must’ve dropped it off in there. All doubts about Ajax in your mind had been eased as you delicately slid the heavy polished ring on your finger. After you did you giggled in excitement as a delicate pink blush found its way to the tops of your cheeks and ears. You had almost forgotten about the note neatly folded, awaiting to be opened and it’s contents to be discovered.

       You gently unfolded the letter, almost scared that you’d rip it. Inside was the most beautifully written borderline love letter you had ever read, it was almost like romantic poetry, and at the very end was a sentence you wanted to burn into your memory ‘remember that promise?’. Your mind was immediately flooded with all the fond memories you had with Ajax, blushing more and more as you uncovered them. By the end of your daydream session butterflies were fluttering around excitedly in your stomach. You didn’t want to be friends with Ajax anymore. You wanted to love him.

      It had been years since you last heard from him. Not a day has gone by that you haven’t worn the ring Ajax had given you so long ago. You moved away from Snezhnaya after you turned eighteen, now residing in Mondstadt whilst you were going to college; you planned to move back after getting your degree but you made some great friends and the carefree culture of the windy city really called to you. Though after one of your parents' health took a turn for the worst you had made quick plans to go visit with your family.

      It had felt like ages since you last stepped foot out into the familiar icy air, looking around to see the sheets of snow and ice covering the ground. Luckily the streets were plowed, which allowed you to maneuver through the city. Your visit has been great since setting foot in your childhood home. You were happy to be home for the time being, happy to relive the nostalgic moments of your younger days. Everything had changed so much since then. You had barely even thought about Snezhnaya or even Ajax for that matter despite wearing his ring every day, wanting to start fresh when you left for college.

       You suddenly realized you had let your head drop accidentally dozing off, jerking yourself out of melancholy memories. You decided it was probably jet lag, but it was far too early to go to sleep so coffee sounded like a good solution. You remembered an old coffee shop you used to study at whilst you were in high school, that was conveniently within walking distance to your house. With a quick five minute walk to the outdoor shops that littered the local streets you lived by, you located the coffee shop taking a minute to stare at the outside. It hadn’t changed at all.

      Smiling to yourself you walked in and politely ordered a coffee before sitting down at a high table by the window. The stand for the table had a heater built in, keeping you warm as you looked out the thin glass shielding you from the icy winds. You took in the old streets, smiling as you once again lost yourself in the nostalgia of everything. You hadn’t noticed a strikingly tall ginger walk into the shop, and you also hadn’t noticed the considerably loud gasp and call of your name. You only noticed the man's presence when he tapped on your table, causing you to jolt and promptly turn in his directly. It took you a minute to realize who you were staring at. 

      “(Y/n)? What the hell are you doing here?” Ajax. There he stood, at the side of you bent over at the hips slightly so he wasn’t completely towering over you. Ajax didn’t want to see you here. He didn’t want to see you at all. You were still fresh in his mind just like you were the last day he had seen you. He missed you. His eyes fell to your hand where he saw the ring he had made and sent to you still on your finger after all these years.

      Your face was almost unrecognizable after all the time that passed, you had grown so much since then. Something unsettled Ajax about your demeanor, you were like an open book to him when you guys were younger as you wore your heart on your sleeve. Looking at you now though, there was no glimpse at the emotions you were feeling in this moment. Were you happy to see him again, since you wore his ring? Were you upset with him breaking his promise? Ajax couldn’t tell as you stared blankly at him for what seemed like ages, giving it enough time to make the air solidify and turn stale and uncomfortable. You finally shook yourself out of this trance you were in, as you suddenly stood up.

      “Wha- Hey, wait a minute (y/n)! What are you doing here?” You didn’t acknowledge Ajax’s voice, subliminally yearning to fall into his strong arms. You were upset. How dare he ask you what you’re doing here. You weren’t the one who had completely abandoned everyone in your life for some sketchy job. You grabbed your coffee before swiftly beginning to exit. Something in Ajax was different. He didn’t really take kindly to you ignoring him, as you felt a vice like grip grab onto your wrist, causing you to flinch and whip around to angrily rip your arm out of his grasp.

      “Don’t touch me Ajax! How dare you have the audacity to ask me what I’m doing here! This was my home! I didn’t abandon everyone I knew and loved on some sketchy ass whim!” Ajax stared at you. Were you joking?! Some ‘sketchy ass whim’?! You supported him when he first told you!

      “What the hell is wrong with you (y/n)?!” Your eyes narrowed as you grit your teeth, you grip on your coffee tightening. Without even thinking you threw it in his face.

      “What’s wrong with me?! You’re so fucked up Ajax! We were best friends and then you completely vanish from reality! You promised me we would stay close!” Now it was time for Ajax to grit his teeth. So you were upset with him about that.

      “(Y/n) that was years ago!! We grew up! That was just a stupid childish promise!” As soon as those words left Ajax’s mouth, he went silent as his eyes widened in horror at his on voice. The entire coffee shop was silent as they all watched your argument break out. Ajax didn’t mean to say that, he knew he had fucked up his promise with you and he hated himself for it; he just didn’t know how to explain what he was doing without scaring you off or pushing you away. Turns out he was already doing that by vanishing. He wanted you to forget about him, he knew that when he took the job to join the Fatui and serve the Tsaritsa he would never be able to give you what you deserved. A normal and happy relationship. Ajax was pulled out of his thoughts when he heard a sniff and realized you were beginning to cry.

      “Ah… So that’s what it was. Just a way to get me to get off your back. I suppose the ring served the same purpose? Whatever Ajax, you’ve changed and I don’t ever wanna see you again.” You quickly ripped the ring off before throwing it in the trash as you stormed out, trying not to audibly cry, as you had already embarrassed yourself enough in that shop. Ajax stood statuesque still. Holy shit he had made everything so much worse. He sighed before snapping out of his position to grab some napkins, to hopefully dry himself off before venturing back outside. He had to fix this.

      It had been a couple days since your argument with Ajax and you were in shambles. This could not have come at a worse time. You were just happy that this Gods awful trip was coming to an end soon. You sighed as you flipped onto your back in your childhood bedroom, trying to reminisce on the old memories you had here, but all of them had gotten tainted by Ajax. He had ruined everything for you. You regretted everything with him, with getting so close to him. Tears had started to well up in your eyes but you quickly blinked them away before they had gotten the chance to fall. You hadn’t noticed before, but there was this weird tapping sound coming from your window; which caused you to anxiously investigate. You pulled your curtains back to be greeted with Ajax, who looked at you sheepishly. You blankly stared at him for a moment before closing the curtains and going back to lay on your bed, trying your hardest to ignore Ajax’s protests and calls of your name. After a while everything had gone silent, until your door opened and Ajax emerged one again.

      “Uh… I’m sorry about coming into your room uninvited but one of your parents called me inside and said I could just come in. In hindsight I probably should’ve knocked before coming in and-”

      “What the hell do you want Ajax.” You cut off the young man's babbling without looking at him, you were on your side laying down on your bed with your back facing him.

      “I wanted to make everything up to you. I want to explain everything and I want to tell you about my job finally.” Ajax was hopeful that you would allow him the opportunity to explain himself.

      “No. Now get out of my house.” Ajax’s heart sunk. No… No no no you had to let him explain himself, he needed to explain. He needed you.

      “Please (y/n) I know you don’t owe me anything, not even your time, but please I owe you this.” You sighed, before slowly sitting up and facing him finally. You stared at him for a moment before speaking.

      “Fine. But you have two minutes, so you better speak quickly.” Ajax’s heart fluttered. He spent those two minutes exactly, explaining everything that happened. You were silent for the most part, staring at your hand and you fiddled with your fingers. Ajax waited anxiously for your response. When you didn’t give him anything he took this as a sign to move onto faze two of his apology. For the last couple of days he had been running all over Snezhnaya spending preposterous amounts of mora. He had presented you with flowers and food; but above all he presented you with a ring.

      “That is one promise that I am going to keep true. Please (y/n) forgive me and make me the happiest man in the world and marry me.” You stared at him with large eyes and Ajax took a hold of one of your hands and gently slid the beautiful ring onto your ring finger. Tears once again began to well up in your eyes, and suddenly your arms were wrapped around his torso as you cried into his chest. You missed this. He still felt the same way he did when you hugged him last, he even smelled the same. 

      “Is that… A yes?” You nodded furiously, face still buried deep in his chest. You were willing to forgive him, but above all, you were willing to love him again.