#and they literally never cleaned it up. they left broken glass and broken lights outside

[cococowboah]

"apartments are great you don't need to fix anything because the landlord is in charge of it it's great-"

And what if the landlord literally does not give a shit that everything in my apartment is fucking falling apart and I have a broken window from a YEAR ago that they refuse to fix and there's holes in the ceiling and maintenance's idea of fixing literally anything is to come by ONE TIME say "yeah it's broken" then FUCK OFF TO STARE AT THEIR PHONE IN THE FUCKING PARKING GARAGE and I'm sweating my goddamn balls off because the AC is broken for the 69th fucking time this week and I live in fucking FLORIDA BY THE WAY, I LITERALLY LIVE IN THE HELL STATE AND I HATE THIS FUCKIN APARTMENT THEY DO NOT GIVE A SHIT ABOUT FUCKIN ANYTHING FUCK THIS PLACE I'M SO GLAD I'M LEAVING.

$2400 a month for this bullshit when paying off a mortgage would not only be cheaper but when things break AT LEAST I CAN FIX IT BY MY FUCKING SELF AND DON'T HAVE TO RELY ON A FUCKING LANDLORD TO DO LITERALLY NOTHING ABOUT ANYTHING.

[futurefind]

" at least i have you to look after me, eh? " from cyrillo for sa :’ ))

“𝘪𝘯 𝘢𝘯 𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘰𝘧 𝘯𝘦𝘦𝘥” 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘮𝘱𝘵𝘴. / accepting // @tvrningout

She sees red— literally— and her mind goes white. She focuses on what's important— what actually matters— and squashes everything else— the worry, the panic, the terror, the urge to cry and scream and throw up, the ghosts suddenly suffocating her— into a far off corner of her mind so she can get to work.

She doesn't remember much after that, but also remembers every breath with an eye-seering clarity. The reek of blood. How he was colder than he should've been. Crimson embedding itself in the cracks of her skin, under her nails. Every single stitch and plaster and bruise and scrape.

How she can't close her eyes, for even a blink, lest she see the life drain from his. Keeps checking and double checking and triple checking his face to make sure it isn't so, no matter how briefly.

After an eternity, after a blink of an eye, she's done.

She excuses herself to the bathroom (she thinks she says to clean up), and regrets it immediately. It hits her like a horsekick to the chest, she can't breathe she can't breathe she can't breathe— and she barely keeps herself from sending her fist through the mirror (and, changes are, into the wall behind it). She hates looking at herself, on a good day, and now—

Now she'd failed. Again. There's blood on her hands and it's not hers, because it's never hers. It's all for her but it's not hers, and it should be hers, it should've always been hers, the blood on her clothes and the eyes going lifeless. Why isn't it hers?!

Why is she—

She shoves the wind back into her lungs like gathering broken glass with naked hands, and pulls herself back outside. She doesn't think she actually got to cleaning. She just knows seeing Cyrillo again, like this, rips her heart out of her chest. But him still being here, gaze alive, lets it continue to beat — no matter how atrocious and gorey of a thing it is. That she is.

Sasume feels about as old as Cyrillo presumably is, maybe older, but without any immortality or undeath to keep her going. Like a puppet with its strings cut and joints rotted and clogged still trying to drag itself through its cues as if there's any audience left.

She sits at his bedside again, silently. Doesn't remember doing it. Can only stare at the spark in his eyes until she's seeing through them, seeing nothing at all, as if pretending to keep him out of her nightmares could ever keep him from joining the graveyard at her feet, pumping through her veins. Keeping her alive, no matter what she says or wishes or wills otherwise — because she's never had a choice.

" — at least i have you to look after me, eh? "

And she wheezes, chest crushing in on her ribs and heart and soul so suddenly and so fiercely once more that the world starts to spin. Heat floods her skin even as her blood runs ice cold, and acid creeps up her chest. Her vision blurs, and she isn't sure if the world is shaking or if her bones are.

"Don't—" she chokes on a sob, wetness leaking out of her eyes, and presses the hand she'd been gripping tight against her forehead instead of her own. She gasps, a keening, pathetic thing, and sees more than feels the tears pouring out.

It's not fair, she thinks, both distantly and as deafening as a thunderclap. She's not sure if she means this, or all the bodies piled up in her heart. If it's his being hurt, or that she's not hurt, or that taking all the gods damned blades and bites and bruises in the world can't spare those closest to her even a single one— no matter how much she wants otherwise.

"Don't—" she can't get anything else out. Doesn't even think there'd be a point. Even if, already, it feels like she's begging. For him to not play light, maybe, but also for the gods to maybe— maybe— show her even the slightest of favor and make it so this wasn't so. That maybe—

"I should've been there," she chokes out, nonsensically, world blurring again, pressing the back of his hand even harder against her own skin. If she gives even the slightest inch, even now, who's to say he won't slip through her fingers a final time?

"I should've...—" and finally, curled over herself like that, at Cyrillo's bedside as he warms her own damned bed, she weeps.

[shay-krbk]

It wasn't long before you bid your last client goodnight. It had been a long day though you wouldn't trade this job for anything. After traveling over the years, for business and pleasure, you have gained all the skills you have today to be one the best Veterinarians around. It had been your dream job since you were little and now it has become reality.

So yeah, the stiff muscles and aching feet are all worth it at the end of the day. All that was left was a little bit of cleaning and filing your paperwork and you could /finally/ head home.

Though it was Friday and you happened to have this weekend off, you just might have to stop at that new bar your co-worker, Denki, told you about. He's always raving about how good the music is there and the drinks, though pricey, have you relaxing in no time.

You weren't much of a social drinker, only once in a blue moon would you have a glass of wine or two after a long day like today. It wouldn't hurt and you haven't really been out much since moving here almost 8 months ago, too focused on work and making a name for yourself. You wanted to finally settle down for good, so going out was never at the top of your to-do list. 

You rushed about finishing up your duties before deciding that yes, you would go out after a quick trip to the house to shower and change. You were sure other patrons wouldn't want to be around you if you smelled like, well /animals/.

----

An hour and a half later, you were standing outside Riots Bar with your phone in your hand waiting for the blonde to get back with you on meeting up for a few drinks. Not that you couldn't go in alone, but you were comfortable around Denki, and he would make it a little less awkward.

Unfortunately as your phone chimed, you realized you would have no choice but to go in alone. Denki was hanging out with his boyfriend at his job until he got off.

It was fine, no big deal. You could do this.

Going home for the night would have been the better option you soon realized ….

You hadn't made it far into the bar, opting for the closet seat you found and making it your permanent residence for the time being. Denki wasn't wrong, the music that filled the air was a welcomed comfort. Nothing too loud but loud enough to keep you from getting lost in mindless thoughts.

"What can I getcha, beautiful?" You startled not only at the deep voice sounding beside you, but the feather light touch of the person's finger tucking a loose lock of curls behind your ear.

You had been watching people mingle about the dance floor, completely forgetting to order a drink. As your body turned, you instantly felt your heart flip in your chest, eyes blowing wide as they settled on the man before you.

And what a man he was. Draped over the bar, you could tell he would tower over you. You were only 5'3 not like you were taller than most people anyhow, but this guy was a literal giant. 

You didn't know where to even look. You had locked eyes with crimson, but your gaze traveled further and further down, over plump red lips, shark-like teeth flashing you a bright smile. Down to fire-engine red hair hanging loosely over the tie-dyed muscle shirt; ripped to hell and back mind you, showing off firm pecs squished together from his obvious position. The way the neon lights danced across his skin, highlighted his tan complexion. He was built as all get out and you suddenly had the strange urge to reach out and touch him.

"Not that I mind a pretty lady checking me out, but I would /love/ to get you something special and maybe continue afterwards?" Your eyes flicked back up to his, catching the playful glint staring back at you.

Your cheeks flamed as the man continued to compliment you. Not something you should get worked up over, too many issues in the past. That's not here nor there, but this guy...maybe it was his voice or his stupid good looks, that had you wanting just a little bit more. 

"W-what do you suggest?" You said finally, flinching at the broken tone of your voice. Granted the bartender didn't seem to mind as his lips curled up in a playful smirk.

"Don't you go anywhere, pretty lady. I'll fix you right up," the man said before turning around to fix you whatever he had in mind.

He was flirting, right? You thought to yourself. You were kinda hoping he was until you remembered just where you were and caught eyes of that playful smirk being directed to someone else as he fixed your drink.

Right. He's a bartender, most know how to work people and help earn better tips. They were here to make money too. You sighed heavily. It had been, well years, since you have even thought of flirting or seeing anyone. But not even with liquid courage coursing through you, you found yourself wanting to keep that attention on you somehow.

This wasn't like you and you almost convinced yourself to just head home as to not do anything rash, but before you could even drop your foot down to the floor he was back.

"Here you go. It's something new I've been working on and you can be the first to tell me whatcha think," the bartender slid the short stemmed glass across the counter towards you.

You eyed the red concoction with a curious gaze, "What is it?"

"M'hoping it'll be my successful attempt at a Blood Riot. It's a blend of vodka with a little Chambord and fresh blackberries and pomegranate," he explained. "It's a little sweet, but an addictive taste. Just enough to take the edge off."

You hummed softly as you lifted the glass and took a tentative sip. It was sweet but not overwhelmingly so. You enjoyed the flavor of the berries and the edge the vodka offered, enough to have warmth spreading down your throat into your chest. 

"It's actually really good. I think you can consider this a success. Thank you, uh…" you trailed off not knowing his name yet.

"Kirishima, but you can call me Eijiro. And I'm glad you think so. Maybe with a positive review, the boss will let me add it to the menu," his lips curved up in a smile, his body leaned over the counter more, getting closer to you. 

"Yeah, that would be great for you, /Eijiro/," You said, taking another sip. 

"I haven't seen you around before. Are you just visiting?"

You chuckled, "You'll think I'm boring, but I've actually lived here for a while now, but I don't go out much. I work all the time and my friend told me about this place, said I needed to relax a little. So here I am."

"I would never think you were boring. We all have to make a living, right?" You nodded. "Well I'm glad your friend suggested this place. I got to meet you after all and I am all about helping others relax and helping them.../enjoy/ themselves."

"Is that so? Well I'm glad I decided to come out. I'm enjoying myself, thanks to you and this delicious drink. The music helps too," a soft laugh fell from your lips.

"Yeah? I'm sure I could make it even better," Kirishima reached up, letting his fingers trail up and down your arm, sending goosebumps across your flesh. 

Oh wow. This was really happening. He wasn't even trying to hide his intentions. This was all too much, but damn if it didn't have your heart pounding in your chest. Or it could be the bass of the song currently playing vibrating through your body. Maybe. But were you even put off by this? Denki has been adamant about you getting out and enjoying yourself and here was Kirishima giving you that opportunity.

"How about another drink first, hmm?" You said, quickly downing the last bit of the crimson liquid.

"Anything for you," Kirishima brushed over your fingers as he took your glass, pulling away from you once more.

You don't know if it's from the alcohol or what, but it was way too hot and you could most definitely use a breather. He was practically giving you an open invitation to...to /fuck/ if you had to put it bluntly. It's been years. Would you even still be good at it? Would it be worth it? Well, if it was shitty, you could blame your poor decision on the alcohol. 

Once more your attempt to step away was altered, but this time it wasn't the way-to-gorgeous redhead. Instead you were met with ocean blue eyes barely hidden behind the man's white hair. Even in the dim lighting, the neon lights offered enough to notice the dark patches of skin covering both eyes as well as his jaw down his neck. You couldn't be sure, but it looked as if he had tattooed in the shape of staples outlining the darker skin tone.

"Where are you off too sweetheart?" The man asked, not trying to hide the way his body moved closer, close enough his legs brushed against yours. You could smell the alcohol wafting off of him.

"No where, just waiting on my friend to get back," You said, trying to subtly look for Kirishima without the other man noticing.

"You came here alone though. Not interested in my company, hmm?" Your skin crawled as slender fingers reached up to brush across your cheek.

You got a twisted feeling in your gut at his words. He had been watching you? But why? 

"What do you say to joining me for a drink? I'm sure I can make it worth your while."

"S-sorry, I'm not interested."

"Aw come one sweetheart. That big oaf bartender was laying it on pretty thick, you didn't wave him off. Someone as beautiful as you deserves so much more than that," the man reached for you again, his palm coming to rest against your thighs. "Let me show you a good time."

"I said…"

"Touya!" You startled at the deep, very pissed off voice coming from behind the bar. Looking up you see the redhead staring daggers at the man trying to feel you up. "Taishiro has already banned you from here. What the fuck do you want?"

Gone was the sweet voice from earlier and you didn't know whether to be weary or if it excited you more.

"C'mon Kirishima. M'not hurting no one. Just talking to this lady here."

"You need to leave, Touya. I won't say it again. Tetsu handled your ass last time, you don't want /me/ to /make/ you leave."

You watched Touya roll his eyes, sighing dramatically before his gaze flicked down to you, "Maybe next time sweetheart. You think I'm bad...well," blue eyes flicked to Kirishima," You'll see."

You weren't sure what he meant, but was thankful as the guy turned and walked away, his hands finally leaving your body. You let out a deep breath that you didn't even know you had been holding.

"You okay? Don't mind him, he's just a drunk that can't keep himself in check."

"Shit…" you whispered, looking over to Kirishima and down to the drink in his hand. You didn't wait for him to hand it to you instead taking it from his hand and downing it in one go. "Another."

Crimson eyes blew wide before he took your empty glass. "Let's get you taken care of, sweetheart. Maybe something with a little more /kick/."

You nodded, not really caring. That guy had creeped you out but you couldn't help but feel a warmth settling deep in your gut at the way Kirishima handled him, the way he spoke felt /possessive/ and you wanted more of /that/ Kirishima.

-----

"Need your keys baby," came the muffled voice from the lips pressed into the crook of your neck.

Your body was burning up from the inside, wound up tight. He hadn't kept his hands off of you from the moment the both of you left the bar. Having free range in the back of the cab, hands wandered, touching places that haven't felt the touch of another, not even yourself, in years.

You panted heavily against him as your fingers fumbled for the keys buried in your pocket. "H-here," you fished them out, not daring to pull away, reaching out blindly to find his free hand.

Soon the click of the door shutting and the flip of the lock sounded behind you and before you could even move to guide him inside, big arms were curling around you, lifting you from the ground. You scrambled to lock your legs around his waist, moaning loudly as teeth nipped across your collarbone.

"Fuck baby, you sound so pretty. So small in my arms," the bigger moan groaned against your skin. "Gonna pull more of those sweet sounds from you."

"Y-yes," was all you could manage. You didn't know what to expect, but didn't care as long as he kept touching you. That's all that mattered.

Your back soon found the welcoming embrace of your mattress, bouncing slightly as he dropped you onto the bed. Feet kicked frantically to remove your shoes, a thud sounded as they hit the floor. You could barely manage to grip your top to remove it, thankfully Kirishima was there to help and had it pulled over your head in no time and tossed it to the floor. The same with the rest of your clothes. 

Soon you were bare beneath him, you could feel hungry eyes roaming over your body. You instinctively went to cover yourself, suddenly weary of a strangers gaze seeing parts of you no one else has had the privilege of seeing in a long time. But of course the moment your hands moved, Kirishima's own found yours and intertwined his fingers with yours, pulling your arms up above your body.

"Fuck, you are breathtaking, sweetheart," he breathed, leaning down until his lips ghosted over the valley between your breast. The feather light touch sent shivers up your spine, causing you to arch up into him. 

"E-Eijirou...p-please," you didn't know whether you were begging him to stop or keep going. 

"What do you want me to do? Tell me, use your words, sweetheart," Kirishima slowly trailed kisses over your chest, avoiding the plump mounds, waiting for your answer. "Well?"

When would you ever have another chance like this? You can practically hear Denki telling you to go for it, so…"Touch me, whatever you want, just please...don't stop."

You caught the redhead smirking before his mouth darted down to your left breast, instantly sucking your nipple into his mouth. You cried out as teeth scraped against your skin as he suckled against you. It had been so long, just from a simple touch of another had warmth pooling down in your gut. You could feel your core pulse with a need, desperate to be filled.

Kirishima alternated between your breasts, suckling until each bud was kiss swollen and perky. Though his mouth began to travel south, his hands released yours in favor of kneading your tits, his thumb flicking over your nipples, pulling soft whimpers from your lips.

Your eyes flutter closed, enjoying each spark of pleasure coursing through you with every touch of his lips against your skin. It wasn't until you felt heat breath ghosting over your most private parts that your eyes snapped open.

"E-Ei! Wait, wait…" you mumbled, attempting to clench your thighs together, but his shoulders blocked your protest. Crimson eyes flicked up to yours, as if asking for permission to keep going. Taking a steadying breath, you slowly nodded, letting your thighs relax their hold, bending them to spread yourself open for him.

"Hn, fuck, look at you," Kirishima groaned, licking his lips as he stared your cunt. "Bet you taste sweet as fuck here too, sweetheart."

Your cheeks flush, not knowing what exactly to say to that. You've had sex of course, but no one's ever done what Kirishima is about to do. It can't be much different from using your own hands really, right? 

Wrong.

So so wrong. It was nothing like your own fingers felt as a hot mouth latched over your lips and a tongue swirled between your folds, sucking, /drinking/ up your slick. It was better, so much better than you could have ever imagined. 

"O-oh God fuck!" Hands shot down your body to curl in fist of red hair as your hips bucked against him. Your jaw fell slack, hanging open as you moaned from every flick and pull, every drag of that sinfully delicious tongue against you. Your previous nerves were gone, nowhere to be found, too consumed in being lost in the new and welcomed sensation that you never wanted to end. 

The man between your legs seemed to be just as content by the way his arms curled under and over your thighs, pulling you against him. Gurgled moans slip past his lips, causing your toes to curl and your thighs to shake as the sounds vibrate against your clit. It was too much and not enough at the same time, you could feel your insides coiling tight, ready to burst any moment. 

Holding back was something you were never good at, and now was a perfect example as Kirishima gave a sudden harsh suck against your clit, your back arched off the bed. A broken cry left your lips as your velvety insides pulsed, gushing slick from your core to squirt over Kirishima's tongue. 

His tongue slowed to tentative licks as you rode out the last waves of your orgasm, lapping up what he could of your sweet desire. Your thighs trembled and shook from sensitivity, never having felt such an intense orgasm before.

Kirishima lifted his head, pressing a gentle kiss against your quivering flesh before looking up to you. "You good, sweetheart?"

You hummed, not trusting yourself to try and speak at the moment.

Kirishima chuckled softly, "Good, I definitely enjoyed myself. May have to do that again, maybe next time just have you sit on my face."

"Ei, ah, you can't say stuff like that," you whined softly, bringing your hands up to.cover your flushed cheeks.

"Don't be shy, sweetheart. I would enjoy having you ride my tongue, you sound so pretty when you come. Fuck, I can't imagine what you'll sound like once I actually /fuck/ you," he groans, slowly sliding himself up your body, kissing here and there until he reaches your jaw. "What do ya say, sweetheart? Can I hear that pretty voice some more while I'm fucking that tight little pussy?"

A soft whimper leaves you at his words. Why is everything that Kirishima says and does so.../hot/. You had thought it was just a facade to pick people up, but nothing has changed, it's only intensified and it's more than what you're used to. Not that you are complaining, not one bit. If this is a one time thing, you should take what he gives and enjoy every second. Who knows when a moment like this will ever present itself to you again.

Granted, now that you think about it, you wouldn't mind this being more than just a one time thing. Neither of you had talked about it, both fairly intoxicated, but who knows, maybe come morning you can ask him if this could be /something/. Just a casual thing. Maybe. 

It's not like you to /want/ more, work always comes first, but with Kirishima...you could see it. What is it about him that has you wanting to change, after just one night?

---

"Ah- fuck, yeah swertheart. Like that, ride me baby. Come on cock," Kirishima growls into your neck, teeth nipping against your flesh as your hips grind down against him, burying every inch of his cock deep inside your cunt.

You close your eyes to the breathless panting against your ear. You focus on the sounds of skin slapping against skin, the loud squelching of his thick cock slamming inside your tight wet heat as you bounce on top of him.

Grunts and groans vibrate against your ear, sending chills down your spine, causing you to arch up into him. Kirishima takes advantage of the moment and pulls you up against him, maneuvering you both off the bed, all the while his cock still buried deep inside you. 

Before you have the chance to utter a word, the hard press of your bedroom wall pulls a soft gasp from your lips. The cool wood is soothing against your heated flesh, sending chills to break out over your skin.

The two of you have been at this for what feels like hours, you're sure your body can't handle much more. But the new position has his cock rocking right up against your sweet spot. You've lost count how many times your cunts milked his cock, and you were close once more. This would be the last one for the night, you could hold on just a little longer.

"Eiji, m'gonna...p-please, /hnn/, fuck! Harder, y-yes," you babble as his hips thrust up into, rocking your body up and down against the wall.

"Mm, yeah? Feel good sweetheart? Gonna make that pussy come on my cock?"

Your thighs tighten around his waist as he bucks into you, hard, his pace unrelenting, not daring to let up one bit. Over and over. Broken guttural moans roll from your lips, a sound you have noticed Kirishima is growing to enjoy. It's like he craves it, pushing and pushing, making sure he's bringing you the utmost pleasure. Like he thrives off of knowing how good he's making you feel.

"C-close," you manage, your voice barely a whisper. You can hear his breath catch, and his pace only increases. Kirishima rams his cock into you harder and harder. Abusing your sweet spot repeatedly.

"/Ah-nnnhg/, come for me, squeeze my cock so good, sweetheart."

One, two more thrusts has your head thudding back against the wall, eyes rolling back in your head as your cunt clamps down around his cock, slick squirting from your folds once more. 

"Oh, Ei! F-fuuuuck! Hn, y-yes!" 

You barely register Kirishima's hips stuttering before stilling against you as warmth fills your insides. You hum contentedly, holding on to him with what strength you have left as your body is pulled away from the wall. 

The last thing you remember before your eyes finally closing from exhaustion was the warmth of his body curling around you and the coolness of your sheet being draped over your body. Sleep took you away instantly, you couldn't have stayed awake if you wanted to.

-----

A part of you feels like it was all a dream, that that night was all a figment of your imagination. That you had drunk way too much and let your inebriated mind create such images of the attractive bartender. That none of it was /real/.

But the other part...you couldn't let yourself believe it never happened. Your body can still recall the way those strong hands felt against your body, the way those sweet lips kissed praise after praise into your skin. You couldn't just make that up, right?

That's what you tell yourself at least. That it was real and it was exactly what it was. A hook-up, a one-night stand. There was nothing more to it. But even knowing that, it didn't take away the sting you felt when you had woken up that morning to find yourself all alone, no signs that Kirishima was even there. 

That was almost three weeks ago and for some reason it was still lingering around in your brain. You had no reason to be thinking of him or anything of the sort. You didn't know him and he didn't know you, neither of you had even exchanged numbers. 

Denki had even doubted you at first, knowing how seriously you take work, he didn't believe you would actually go through with hooking up with a stranger. But of course once you explained just who it was, Denki had no doubts, he even looked like he felt bad for you. He didn't explain why of course, and you didn't push it.

It only reminded you of the words that white haired man had said that night. Maybe that's just what Kirishima did, found pretty ladies to hook-up with. Not that it was a problem, everyone deserved to enjoy themselves how they wanted. You had just thought he would have at least said something or even a goodbye would have sufficed, but nothing. And you couldn't bring yourself to go back to the bar weary of facing him and having him feel like you were stalking him or something.

Oh well. You finally let loose for the first time and enjoyed yourself, that's all that should matter. Right?

"You're doing it again," you startled at the sound of Denki's voice from beside you.

"Hah? What?"

"You're thinking about him again, aren't you?" 

"Wha? N-no, I'm trying to fill out this paper work-.."

"That's still just as blank as it was half an hour ago. C'mon, you gotta let it go. Not worth it, babe. Next time, you can go with me and I'll set you up right."

"Denks, no. I'm not looking to do that, I wasn't then, it just happened. I had my night out like you wanted, you should be good with that for the next year or so."

"That's how it happens with him. Look, you can spare one more night and have fun with me and 'Toshi. I'll make you forget all about that lover boy Red."

You sigh heavily knowing there's no changing his mind. "One more night, but I don't want you finding someone to take me home. We can go out for drinks together and leave it at that, okay?"

"Fiiiine. Meet us at the same place, say an hour? We can finish up this paper work Monday," Denki says, pulling the stack of papers from in front of you to add to the pile on his desk. "So, go home, get all dolled up and we'll see you in a bit, 'kay?"

No going back now, so you nod and reluctantly grab your stuff and lock up shop.

You really didn't want to go back here and risk seeing him. It shouldn't be a big deal, not after a drunken hook-up. Maybe it's because of your past you can't let it go or the fact that this is so unlike you that it's weighing on your mind. 

In your last relationship, it was great, perfect even. You were happy and in love. The two of you had been together throughout school and even after graduation. But things...changed, and not in a good way. Your boyfriend at the time started going out at night with new friends, staying out all hours. He had changed, and time together started being less and less. The only time he ever touched you was when he would come home in a drunken state and the next day it was back to being distant.

You weren't one to say anything you had trusted him. You didn't want to seem controlling. But you started feeling uneasy and started having doubts.

Doubts you never thought you would have. Thinking things you never thought your boyfriend would ever do. So you decided to follow him out one night, just to see what he was getting into, for your peace of mind.

Every day after that you wish you would have never gone out, wished you would have never seen what you did. All those nights he would come home to lay with you, it was after he had someone else in his arms prior. He would touch you with hands that touched another, kiss you with lips that tasted another. He had been cheating on you for who knows how long and you couldn't handle it. Six years gone just like that. You couldn't stay, you had no reason to. So you waited for him to go out like usual and packed all that was yours and left and never looked back.

And here you are now, five years later. You had done good for yourself, never letting anyone get in the way of what you wanted or risk anyone taking you back down that same road of hurt. So why is it that Kirishima is taking up all the space in your mind? 

"You made it!"

You were pulled from your thoughts as Denki walked up to you, throwing an arm over your shoulders.

"You look good. Let's get inside already," you nodded and let him lead you inside, his boyfriend following close behind. "Toshi, take her to our usual seats and I'll grab us some drinks. What do you want?"

"Blood Riot," you say without thinking.

Denki saunters off and you're left with Hitoshi.

"He's wired, sorry about that."

"It's fine, I'm used to it. How's the Cafe doing?" You ask, following him through the sea of people to the far side of the bar where couches line the back wall for people to relax.

"It's uh good, found a stray this morning, so we have a new kitten mascot you could say," the purple haired man chuckled softly. 

"I'll have to swing by sometime, Denks stays on me about getting out more. Maybe I should finally listen."

"My ears are burning, what did I miss?" Denki asks as he walks back up, drinks in head.

"Nothing, kitten."

He hands you your glass, "Thanks…"

"What is a BR? I never knew it was on the menu."

"It's uh, something...new, I think."

You sat back on the couch, nursing your drink as you watched Denki drag Hitoshi away to go dance. You smiled after them, happy that they could enjoy themselves. Not that you weren't but you couldn't help but feel out of place and the strange feeling of being watched.

As you took a sip you let your gaze drift to the bar. You should have known he would be here but you weren't expecting to see him draped across the bar hovering over some girl's lap. Just like he had done with you. You choked on your drink and quickly looked away.

Maybe this was a bad idea. Obviously you can't handle fucking someone without feelings and seeing him now reminded you that it was a one time thing. You told yourself once you finished your drink, you'd find Denki and give him some excuse to leave and just go home.

That was the plan.

As you downed the last of your drink you stood to leave but was blocked by a hulking figure that moved to stand in front of you.

"How's the drink, sweetheart?"

You looked up slowly, already knowing who it was by his voice. You didn't think he would come seek you out and why he would, confused you.

"K-Kirishima, uh hi. Um, it was good, just like before," you answer quietly, taking a step back to go around him.

"Hey wait…" Kirishima reaches out to take you by the wrist. "I didn't expect to see you here again."

"Um, sorry? I'm actually leaving, so can you let me go, please." You go to pull away, but his grip tightens. "Kirishima, let-..."

"Can we talk?"

"What for? We have nothing to talk about. Besides, don't you have someone at the bar waiting for you?" Not that it was any of your business, but you have eyes and he can't expect you to just let him swoop in and use his obvious charm to woo you.

"She's an old friend. It's not like that," he explains."

"It's none of my business. Now can you please let me go so I can leave?"

Kirishima drops your hand. "Look, I know what happened that night was great and how I left was, well,  not so great. But I've never done that before."

"Never done what before?" 

"Stayed over like that. I uh, kinda bolted and regretted it because I had no idea how to reach you and showing up at your place would've been hella uncool," Kirishima rushed out, rubbing a hand along the back of his neck. "I'm not really used to this."

Who was this guy? Where was the Kirishima from the first night, the one who was so sure of himself? This can't be the same person, he seems so...nervous.

"You wanted to see me? We were both kinda drunk, it's not like you /had/ to stay or anything. It's fine, Kirishima, really," you say, unsure if you were trying to actually reassure him or yourself.

"I haven't been able to stop thinking about you, and when your friend ordered that drink, I knew it was you. I really didn't think you'd come back here. Look, I'm off the clock for the night, do you think we could just...talk?"

You could feel your heart flip in your chest at his admission, you didn't want to look too much into it, but knowing he's been thinking of you just as much as you have of him, you can't find it in yourself to just walk away.

"Come with me," you hold out your hand and Kirishima slowly reaches out to lace your fingers together. This may be a bad idea, but the bar was too loud and you wanted to go home anyway, so this seemed like the only logical option. You pull him through the crowd and out the front doors.

Once out front, you let go of his head and walked ahead, back towards your apartment. The walk was silent between the two of you, neither seeming to know what to say just yet. Denki would scold you come Monday for bailing out on him, but hopefully, depending on how this turns out, maybe he'll understand.

You pull out your keys, unlocking your door to let Kirishima inside, and shut the door behind you. Last time he was here, you were wrapped in his arms, starting one of the best nights you've ever had, but now the two of you aren't even touching, both staring off in any direction to avoid meeting the other's gaze.

"Do you want a drink or anything?" You ask, moving into the open area of your kitchen to pull a beer from the fridge. Unfortunately you didn't have anything stronger, but it would help enough to take the edge off, maybe release some of the tension between the two of you.

"I-I like you."

Beer spewed from your lips as you choked on your first sip. You slam the can down to grab a dish rag to wipe up your mess.

"Sorry, sorry. I didn't mean to just blurt it out. I've never dealt with this before, well not in a long time. I haven't had the need or the want to think about this stuff," Kirishima explains, walking around the counter to help you.

"It's fine, you uh, just caught me off guard."

Kirishima chuckles softly, "I'll try to /ease/ into it, yeah?" A smirk danced across his lips.

"You can't help yourself, can you?" You tease, smacking the towel against his arm. Instead of moving to go to the living room, you hop up on your counter, bringing yourself to eye level with Kirishima. "So you wanna go on?"

Kirishima's smile falters slightly, "I don't do this, /dating/, stuff. I swore it off long ago, but when we were laying in your bed, you were sound asleep and I forgot how much I missed having someone in my arms."

Your heart dropped at his words, but you couldn't blame him for not wanting more. You have your own reasons for not letting people in.

"You were the first person I had stayed with after we had our fun, I'm usually gone before they even get to bed. It sounds like a dick move, I mean it is, but I couldn't risk getting attached. Been there once and I'm not going through it again," Kirishima explains, propping himself against the counter beside you. His eyes everywhere but on you.

"Someone broke your heart, didn't they?"

"Shit, that's one way to put it. People say guys don't get their hearts broken, that it's a chick thing. But their wrong, shit hurts no matter who you are," Kirishima sighs, his voice laced with emotions. "So I blocked it all out, never letting myself get attached. It's shitty, really, but I always aimed for the person to at least enjoy themselves. And they knew it was a one time thing, so it worked."

"Until now?" You ask softly, sipping on your drink.

"Until now."

You watched Kirishima push away from the counter to stand in front of you, your legs part instinctively to let him stand between them.

"I swore I would never let anyone in but you...you, sweetheart have weaseled your way in somehow. And I don't know how to handle it," he reaches up to tuck a loose curl behind your ear. "I don't know how to do /this/, but I'm willing to try. /If/ you would let me."

"You want to...what? Date me?"

Kirishima chuckled, "Would you like to date me? No bullshit, no secrets, just you and me? I can't promise I'll be perfect but I can promise I'll never break your heart."

You wanted to say yes. It was what you had wanted, right? Can you trust him, knowing his reputation? Can you risk it?

"Kirishima, I...I don't-..."

"Hey, it's okay. I kinda dropped all this on you outta nowhere. You don't have to do this, it's fine sweetheart," he says softly.

"It's not that," you say quickly. "I've been hurt too, okay? Just...can I trust you if we do this, that you won't just find someone better?"

"No one could ever compare, sweetheart. Can I trust you to not give up on me?"

"M'not that great, Ei. As long as you can handle my crazy obsession with my job, I think we can give this a shot," you smile up at him, bringing your hand up to fist the front of his shirt, pulling him close until his nose brushes against yours. "Don't hurt me, Ei."

"Wouldn't dream of it," he whispers before pressing his lips to yours.

You sigh softly into the kiss, letting your legs curl around his waist, holding him close. A part of you had wanted more from the start and now you actually have a chance to have more. It's both exciting and terrifying, not knowing what's to happen, but even knowing what Kirishima is like, /was/ like, it's not as unsettling as you thought it would be. He went through something like you did with your ex and you can only hope that makes the both of you better for another, and able to understand each other.

It's only the beginning, but once more, you just can't seem to shake Kirishima and you are more than okay with that. 

~the end♡

[thirstyforcharacters]

Tequila (Bucky Barnes x Reader)

Summary: Every person has a soulmate. When your soulmate experiences pain, so do you, and any bruises, scars, or other markings that they get appear on your skin. Or, the story of how aliens attacking Las Vegas was the best thing to ever happen to you.

Notes: Hello! I already did a very similar soulmate AU for Sam Wilson (which you can read here), but I love soulmate AU’s so much that I decided to do one for Bucky, too! Hopefully, I made them different enough that they don’t seem too repetitive. Did I write this while I was supposed to be watching a documentary on Bach for music history? Maybe. But I think this was a much better use of my time. Hope you enjoy! (no y/n, no pronouns)

Warnings: canon typical violence, alien invasion, blood (not too much tho), car crash

WC: 1.9 k

For all of your life, you couldn’t feel your left arm.

When you started to crawl, your parents noticed you only used your right arm to pull yourself forward while your left would hang limply at your side. Your parents brought you to the doctor, deeply concerned, but when she examined your arm, she found nothing wrong. No x-rays showed broken or deformed bones, and no MRI’s showed any problems in the brain. By all medical standards, you should be able to move your left arm. You just couldn’t. Everyone hoped that it would go away, but to their chagrin, it remained unmoving throughout your childhood. You obviously knew your arm was there since you could clearly see it, but you couldn’t feel the nerve endings inside it. When you poked your arm with your other finger, you felt absolutely nothing. And weirdly enough, your family said it was always cold to the touch, no matter how warm the rest of your body was.

You had a feeling that it had something to do with your soulmate, and when you reached adulthood (specifically around 24), you were almost positive that was the reason. You often woke up with random injuries that you knew you didn’t give yourself. Gunshot wounds, deep slashes, broken bones, and large bruises were commonly branded on your skin. You were positive that if your soulmate was getting shot at every other night, then they almost definitely had some sort of damage done to their arm that affected your own. But if they had had this condition since you were born, how old were they? That was always a question that kind of weirded you out. You didn’t particularly want to be “meant to be” with some wrinkly, old person! Especially if they were somehow getting themselves into this much trouble. And now that you thought about it, none of these injuries were on your (or their) left arm. How could that be if they’ve literally been hurt everywhere else on their body?

When you weren’t in and out of the hospital with randomly serious injuries, you were quite busy cooking up a storm in Turkey, Tacos, and Tequila, your restaurant in Las Vegas. You and your best friend, Nicolás, had opened it three years ago; you were the head chef and he ran the business side of things. The two of you had talked about opening a restaurant together since you were teenagers, so both of you had moved to Vegas together after college/culinary school. Together, you found that you were an unstoppable team, and within a year of opening, you were one of the most popular restaurants throughout all of Vegas! Most times, because you were so busy, your soulmate problem stayed in the back of your mind. But every once in a while, a bruise would appear on your eye or a large cut down the length of your leg, and you would be reminded again.

Nic, as you called him, already found his soulmate. Oliver had moved in with you a year ago, and joined you side by side in the kitchen. You became almost as close with him as you had with Nic. They were adorable together, and never made you feel like the third wheel. There were some times, though, where you found yourself a little bit jealous that they had found each other so quickly, and that neither of them had ever suddenly started bleeding all over a nearly complete order of mango fish tacos.

Whenever you got a little down about it, Nic would always clap you on the shoulder and say, “You’ll find them someday. And when you do, break their nose. They deserve it for the hell they’re accidentally putting you through.”

It never failed to make you laugh. You had half a mind to do just that when you met the love of your life. You just didn’t know when that would be.

On yet another hot and dry Nevada night, you were closing up at the restaurant (or morning, you supposed, since it was nearly 1 am). Nic, Oliver, and your other employees had gone home already, so it was only you that remained. You turned off the lights and locked the door. You pushed your way through the drunken crowds and tourists on the street and made your way to your car. As you were opening the door, you could hear gasps of shock coming from the crowd of people roaming the streets. You looked up and saw an eerie flash of green across the sky, and a strange-looking, portal appeared in the sky! Shrieks of fear permeated the air as grotesque, reptilian creatures began spilling from the portal.

Frantically, you flung yourself into your car and turned over the engine, hoping to escape the clutches of these aliens. Though your apartment was in the opposite direction of the portal, as per usual, there was a decent amount of traffic, so you weren’t sure how good your chances were. But you figured you’d at least be safer in your car than exposed outside of it.

You were able to pull into traffic and weave through it fairly well, making good use of the side streets that only the locals knew about. But the creatures were overtaking the city faster than you could drive. You knew you didn’t have long before they caught up with you.

Just when that thought popped into your head, a blinding flash of light appeared in your rearview mirror. A loud bang, almost like a cannon, sounded, and through your mirror, you saw a truck hurtling toward you at breakneck speed! You attempted to swerve out of the way, but the truck crashed into your car, shoving it against a street light! The driver’s side of your car crumpled against the lamppost, and the glass in your window shattered at the contact. You attempted to cover your face with your hands, but a piece of glass still managed to make a pretty deep cut above your left eye, as well as a few pieces of shrapnel sinking into your legs. The whiplash from the contact damaged your neck as well; pain spread throughout your neck and back. All you could do was sob in agony. You had never felt this much pain in your life.

Your hand was trembling as you unbuckled your seatbelt, but you found yourself unable to leave your car! The driver’s side door was crushed, the truck was smushed against your passenger door, and there was no way you would be able to climb out of the backseat, nor lift yourself out of the broken window with the injuries you sustained. You were trapped. You waited for a little bit, until some of the chaos surrounding you died down; even in your damaged state, you knew that no one would be able to hear you even if you screamed for help as loudly as you could.

You strained your ears, and were able to hear gunfire, commands being shouted, and the hissing of these reptilian creatures. Eventually, instead of the noise of a battle, you could hear voices trying to dig people out of the rubble. Somehow, they sounded familiar, but you couldn’t place how. Well, if they were rescuing people, you figured they were your only chance.

“Help,” you screamed, “I’m trapped in my car! Please help me!”

You heard footsteps sprinting in your direction and a voice call, “Don’t worry, we’ll get you out of there!”

You watched in amazement as the truck on your passenger’s side was surrounded by a glowing, red presence, and moved out of the way! It had to be the Avengers! Who else would be able to do something that crazy? You were brought out of your thoughts by your car being dragged away from the pole, making you jump. A face popped up in your shattered window. He was gorgeous; bright, blue eyes, short, chestnut hair, and a warm smile. He took hold of the broken door and wrenched it from its fastenings.

“Hi. My name is Bucky Barnes. This is Wanda Maximoff,” the man said, gesturing back to a woman wearing scarlet, “we’re going to get you out of here, okay?”

“Okay,” you replied, relieved, “thank you so much!”

He smiled again, “Oh, it’s no problem. You should probably stay there until the EMT’s get here. Moving might make your injuries even worse.”

You nodded slightly in reply, but the pull in your neck made you groan in pain.

He winced, “Try not to move that, either. You may not be bleeding there, but I don’t want you to hurt yourself.”

“Okay.”

“Here, let me help you with that. I can at least stop the bleeding,” he offered, gesturing to your forehead and leg.

“Oh, thank you!” you answered.

He nodded and reached for some bandages he had in his jacket with his metal arm. His left arm. Suddenly, you noticed things you didn’t notice before. He also had a large cut above his left eye, in the same spot as your injury. It wasn’t bleeding, though, perhaps because of his enhancements. You noticed him moving his neck in a circular motion, seemingly to stretch it out. He had holes in his pants and small puncture wounds on his legs, in the same spots where glass was sticking out of you. Again, though, they were already healing. Could that be why you had never felt your arm before? Because your soulmate’s was metal? It would make complete sense.

“Are you okay?”

You didn’t even realize you had zoned out until Bucky addressed you. He was gently cleaning the wound on your forehead.

“Yes,” you whispered, fixated on the wound on his forehead.

His eyebrow raised, “Are you sure? You seem a little out of it.”

“I-I’m fine. I just noticed something kind of strange. I think the cut on your forehead matches mine.”

He touched his forehead, “Oh, yeah, I forgot about that with the adrenaline and everything. Only got it maybe 20 minutes ago.”

“That’s when my car crashed. And you’re having neck pain, like me,” you murmured, “and your arm is metal. I’ve never been able to feel my arm.”

His eyes widened, “Really? You think we’re meant to be?”

“Maybe,” you replied.

He nodded, “It seems likely. What’s your name?”

You gave him your name and he smiled again.

“I’ve been waiting for this for a century.”

You giggled softly, “I guess that explains why I’ve been experiencing this since I was born. I was afraid you’d be gross and wrinkly.”

He chuckled, “Well, hopefully you don’t think I’m either of those things.”

“Definitely not.”

The EMT’s arrived then. Bucky stepped aside and the medics removed you from your car.

As you were being loaded into the ambulance, Bucky approached you.

“How can I get in contact with you after this?”

“Just come by Turkey, Tacos, and Tequila. It’s my restaurant, I’m almost always there,” you told him.

“Okay. I’ll drop by sometime soon, when you’re better of course.”

“Looking forward to it.”

“Me too.”

As he was walking away, you couldn’t stop the grin forming on your lips. Sure, what had happened to you today was terrible. But you knew you would heal, and now, you had also finally met your soulmate. No wonder why you were randomly injured all of the time! If today was any indicator of what the rest of your relationship would look like, though, you’d probably need all of that tequila you were selling for yourself.

[aggressive-positivity-network]

mercs and nightly rituals? 👀

Those are the kind of off-the-wall asks I live for!

Spy:

The Frenchman has a very strict retiring routine.

It might have been because of his meticulous nature, or maybe because of his time at the academy, but he had almost a sixth sense for his bedtime as a result.

No one was really sure why he was so strict about it.

He has left in the middle of card games, arguments, and chats just because it “time for him to sleep.”

After a bit of prodding from Engineer - whom Spy trusts more than any of the other mercs - he reveals that the spy school he went to had alarmed halls that activated at a certain time. A few students had even died as a result. The habit had come from a place of pure terror.

Engineer is slowly trying to break the habit. Spy can now wait ten minutes after his usual time.

Spy puts his pajamas neatly on his bed, which he makes each morning, and turns on the fan so that his pillow can cool while he’s getting ready.

He makes sure all of his disguises are in the right place, takes off his mask and puts it on his coat hanger, brushes his teeth for two minutes exactly (again, an academy habit), and then changes completely into his pajamas.

Finally, he flips the switch next to his bed to activate his alarm system.

Spy goes to bed, sleeping on his back, and barely moving until morning.

And Scout learned the hard way that Spy keeps his butterfly knife in a makeshift pocket carved into the mattress.

Scout:

Can and will just konk out wherever possible.

He’s fallen asleep in Engineer’s workshop, outside, in his doorway, on the floor, against the wall...dude has even fallen asleep in the middle of hitting someone with his bat (NyQuil coma).

He will sleep anywhere, usually not his own bed.

His sleep schedule is also all out of whack, which is why he drinks so many Bonks.

He doesn’t have ADHD - his bloodstream is just pure caffeine and sleepy giggles.

If you get close enough to him, you can actually see dark circles under his eyes. He tells everyone they’re bruises.

“This...uh...Soldier punched me in the face! Yeah, that’s it!”

Boston boy, I love you, but please take a nap.

Take two. God dangit.

He very rarely changes into pajamas, he just strips and jumps in bed. He always brushes his teeth, though - he takes special care of his teeth.

Scout says their his “bread and butter.”

He also literally jumps in bed because he has a fear of somebody reaching out from under the bed and grabbing him if he gets in bed too slow.

Sometimes he even takes a running start.

He’s broken several bedframes that way.

Heavy:

Heavy has the standard fare: putting on his pajamas, brushing his teeth, and washing his face.

When he gets in bed, though, he picks up a book he got at the nearby library and starts to read it.

He has these small reading glasses that barely stay on his nose.

This is mostly to help him read and speak English, so he occasionally reads sentences that he doesn’t understand out loud.

He also has a legal pad next to his bed, which he uses to write down any words he doesn’t understand.

In the morning, he usually goes to Miss Pauling or Medic and asks what certain words mean.

He is currently at a middle-school reading level, and his favorite novel by far is The Giver.

He even bought the Russian audiobook so he could better understand the message.

He’s also a big fan of To Kill A Mockingbird, but he had an incident where Miss Pauling had to explain why their word for black person was so hurtful and why it should never be used.

Heavy didn’t understand at first, so Miss Pauling had to relate them to Russian slurs. Heavy understood really quickly after that.

His copy now has all the slurs blacked out in ink.

“What if Demo reads? I need to...disappear them.”

Sniper:

He almost always practices his shot before he goes to bed.

It helps him relieve all the daily stress.

You can tell if Sniper is having trouble sleeping because of the gunshots.

“‘Old on, mate, one more round.”

One time, after being ghosted for a date, he stayed up shooting until six in the morning.

The only reason he stopped was because he had tears in his eyes and couldn’t see the target anymore.

He ended up just sitting on the floor and cleaning his gun while trying to not get tears on the muzzle.

No one knew what had happened, but they did notice that Sniper stabbed his enemies a little harder and more violently that afternoon. He even broke a Scout’s spine because he walked on the body after withdrawing the knife.

Do. Not. Anger. The. Aussie.

Demo:

Demo drinks so often and so much that he usually doesn’t sleep during the night.

This has scared his teammates on multiple occasions, since you can’t exactly see uniform color in the dark.

He has been shot and/or trapped on multiple occasions, especially by Spy, who is a very light sleeper.

It got to a point where he now has to wear fluorescent bands so that people know he isn’t an enemy.

He also has a “sleeping eyepatch” that’s made out of the same cloth as his pajamas.

It has blue stripes and a little black X in the middle.

Engineer:

He tends to turn his light on and off many times before actually going to sleep.

Engineer also does this with his lamp, and if anybody ever walks by his room and asks why, he says that he needs to turn it off and on until it “feels right.”

He also checks every alarm system before he goes to bed.

And if there is a single update, virus, or false alarm, he has to get up and fix it.

He also tends to get very anxious at night, especially if he’s overtired or recovering from an injury.

If he and Scout are up at the same time (Scout gets nighttime anxiety as well) they make each other hot chocolate and watch MythBusters.

Engineer likes the explanations, Scout likes the explosions.

They either fall asleep on the couch or wait until Spy comes and makes his complaint known.

Since Spy’s so quiet, he has been known to move Scout, cloak as Engineer, and then scare the living daylights out of the Texan when he wakes up.

Engineer more than gets him back come next day’s battle, though.

Soldier:

Soldier has his own room on the other side of the base

And there is certainly a reason.

He fights with his pillow until he goes to sleep, making all sorts of ungodly noises.

At first the mercs thought Soldier was having some overzealous “private time”.

One night they walked in on him to find a triumphant Soldier body slamming his pillow.

He even drew Hitler’s face on it with a Sharpie.

I mean, he could be into that.

Honestly, no one knows.

Pyro:

As stated in a previous post, Pyro catches fireflies to use as a nightlight in order to go to sleep.

However, while the sun is still setting, Pyro winds down by sorting their shell and trash collection.

She sorts by color, then shape, then material.

If there are any new additions, he cleans them and put them in their own drawer.

They have a little plastic dresser they keep everything in.

Their favorite additions are pieces of broken glass from beer and whiskey bottles, bonus points if they are tinted a cool color.

They also have these sheets with a bunch of sheep and cows in nighcaps.

If they are feeling scared or overtired, however, they sleep in a unicorn sleeping bag surrounded by beanie babies she has collected over the years.

Fun fact: they sleep with their mask off, and for that reason, they usually sleep with a pillow on their head and their comforter on top of that to hide their face.

If they are in their sleeping bag, they zip it as far as they can upwards without struggling for air.

Medic:

You think you have a bad sleep schedule?

Hah! How cute.

He will run on energy serum and cocaine for an entire week, then disappear into his room for a few days.

And yet he always makes it to battle.

Some think he may have a clone, some think he has the ability to see the future. Neither would surprise anyone.

When he does sleep, though, he is fully clothed and usually holding either an organ or his bonesaw.

He has lost many specimens that way.

Archimedes usually wakes him up if he falls asleep at his desk, as Medic trained him to do. However, this doesn’t work very well if his head is down on his desk because of a mental breakdown. But hey, you can’t win them all.

Heavy has slowly been trying to change Medic’s sleep schedule. He’ll offer him tea around nine, or ask if he wants to go for a walk at eight. He’s trying to link relaxation with night.

It’s been working so far, but there’s only so much you can do.

Ms. Pauling:

What’s sleep?

@uprisist

[imaginesmai]

Sebastian Stan - We’re a team

Mixing two requests, @squishybebe​ about an interviewer being rude to the reader (I know you said flirtry, but this is what came out, I’m sorry!) and an anon about his son interrupting a meeting. I hope you all like it!

Plot: no interview is boring since having your adorable four year old son, who needs his father as much as he needs him.

To say that Sebastian was bored was an understatement. It had reached a point where he had just resigned himself with looking at the guy in front of him and nodding a little when required.

The questions were too predictable; how did it feel to be playing one of the characters in something as big as the MCU, how was it to work with great actors like Evans or Downey, and how had it been his work out routine that had gotten him fit for the films. The interview wasn’t anymore about his new film, Endings Begging, but more about gossip. Even if he didn’t talk much, the guy was answering himself as he did the question.

“And did you have to cut on any type of specific food, like burgers and other stuff?” he asked and didn’t stop to let him answer. “Because I’ve seen your TV spot about ‘cheat day’ and you seemed pretty eager – you actually ate it after it cut off?”

Sebastian gave him a tight smile, as the guy started talking again about the obesity in the united states. He had caught the camera guy dozing off a few times, and his manager was no where to be seen anymore. From all the interviews he had done, that was without any doubt the most boring.

And the worst thing wasn’t that he was stuck there with his tight jeans, it was that he had brough you and Luca to the plato in hopes of finishing soon and giving you a tour around. Your little boy had just turned four and everything with lights and colours was amazing to him; as long as he didn’t have to stay in the same place for more than a few minutes. He got angsty and started crying, and he already felt bad enough when the clock reached the hour in there.

“Would you say you’re a role model for little kids?” the interviewer attacked again. “With your violent characters and –”

He was cut off by a thud, and everyone’s attention went to the clear glass door, including Sebastian’s, his heart quite literally rocketing out of his chest when he saw who was outside the door. Before he could even react, Luca was jumping up and grabbing the handle, the door effectively swinging open so fast that it could have broken if he wasn’t a little kid.

“Daddy!” Luca screeched, his face red and tear-streaked.  “Daddy!”

You appeared behind him the next second, looking around wildly until you found your kid. He was way too fast for you to catch, and Sebastian watched as his four-year-old kid rounded all the tech equipment and ran into a woman’s legs. She stumbled and glared at him with such fire that Sebastian felt felt anxious, but Luca didn’t seem fazed, as he rushed over his dad with his arms raised.

It was then when he noticed the what the problem was, sympathy forming in his chest as Luca slammed into his legs. You were apologising softly to the people he had ran over as you jogged towards the pair.

“I – I had an accident!” Luca sobbed with such a despair that Sebastian felt his heart ache.

The whole team were all looking at him with their eyebrows raised, the interviewer going as far as scoffing and trying to look around for someone to fix it. You landed on your knees beside them and, even if Luca had ran from where you were playing with him, the little boy reached a hand for you to take.

It had been a month since the last incident, and Luca felt really proud of it. No more wetting the bed at night when he had to sleep alone and no more staining his favourite trousers when you took to long to go home. He reminded you every day that he was already a big boy, and that soon he would be wearing a cool suit like daddy when he goes to the ‘flashy place’.

Luca sobbed even harder when Sebastian rubbed a comforting hand against his back.

“Um, can someone – take care of this?” the interviewer chuckled, looking directly at you. “We were working here, and you’re kind in the middle of something.”

“Yeah, sorry. I’m sorry” you blushed in embarrassment, trying to pry Luca from Sebastian. The boy had an iron grip on his father. “It’s just – he ran out of the room, I’m sorry. I couldn’t hold him.”

“Yeah, well, you should. You can’t let him run off like that, he’s going to become a brat” the interviewer talked, missing how Sebastian was sending him glares with his eyes. “What kind of mother can’t hold his son?”

“Why don’t you keep your opinions to yourself?” Sebastian scoffed. “Come one, we’ll get you cleaned up, yes?”

His voice was softer when he talked with Luca. He placed his hands under Luca’s armpits and hoisted him into his lap, not caring about the expensive sweater he had chosen for the interview. Wiping the tears away from his son’s face, he pressed his lips against your cheek and assured you that it was fine. He watched Luca’s index and middle finger disappear into his mouth. Usually, he would tell him off, but even he felt anxious with so many people looking at them.

The guy got up too when Sebastian neared the door, wide eyes and gripping his notebook. He gestured to the camera to stop recording for a second and ran towards you.

“Why are you leaving? We aren’t over” he said as Sebastian looked back to him. The interviewer took a few steps back when he noticed the angry scowl on the actor’s face. He looked between you and him, hesitant. “She can – she can take care of… him. You know, let the man of the house work. You can’t… leave.”

He attempted to joke with Sebastian, chuckling, but he wasn’t having any of it. Instead of laughing and handing you Luca, he secured his grip on him and gestured you to open the door.

“I can and I will, actually” he answered as he bounced Luca up and down. “What you can do is never talk about my wife like that again, she’s as much as a parent as me, and she doesn’t need to take care of anything so that I can work. If you ever do it again, you can have a chat with my layer next, who will be very happy to hear from you”

Leaving the man open-mouthed, you left the recording room behind Sebastian closing the door behind you. You hadn’t looked up from the ground, only to check periodically on Luca, who was calming down now that he had his daddy with him. Still, there was a small proud smile on your face.

“Daddy?”

“Yes bubba?” Sebastian replied, looking back to check that the door was closed.

“Mad?”

Sebastian smiled softly as he stepped into the hallway, reaching with the hand that wasn’t holding Luca to yours. He gave it a soft squeezed, answering to your unsaid question and Luca’s one at the same time.

“Nah, it was being too boring without you. I’m always up for any of you if you need me”

Luca hid his face on Sebastian’s neck as you made your way to the spare room where you had been playing with Luca. The floor was covered in books, stuffed animals, and a few dolls that he had been playing with, mixing them in some childish fantasy about a castle and a lost prince. You didn’t say anything as you entered the room and let Luca on the floor. Bringing your travel bag, with spare clothes, you cleaned Luca in the small bathroom and changed his clothes between the two of you, putting the stained ones in a plastic bag.

You didn’t say anything as Luca talked the silence away with his ramblings about what his daddy had missed in the hour he had been away. He showed him the drawing he had done and Sebastian told him that he could go and play for a while.

Luca skipped away as you leaned against the sink.

“I’m sorry for letting him run away” you started, quite embarrassed that your four-year-old had crashed Sebastian’s interview. “When I realized what had happened it was too late, and he was already calling out for you.

“No, that’s – I don’t want you to apologize draga mea” Sebastian frowned. “I’m the one who has to apologize, I should have cut the interview sooner”

“You don’t have to cut any interview for us” you smiled at him. “I should have had a better hold on him. Your work is important, Seb, and we can’t go crashing –“

“No, my work isn’t important” he interrupted you, and with a long stride he was in front of you. “You’re important, cause you’re my family. And it’s fine if you interrupt an interview because Luca or you missed me, I can handle a few angry words from the team. But what I can’t handle is you thinking that it’s your duty taking care of everything, alright? We’re a team”

“Quite a team” you chuckled, looking down at the bag with the stained clothes.

“Yeah, but you’re my team, so that’s fine”

You didn’t say anything else and Sebastian leaned in for a kiss, in that small and shitty bathroom. Indeed, you made a good team.

Want to read more? Check out my side blog @imaginesmaimasterlists​, where I keep all the masterlists! Feedback is always appreciated

[muyurei]

Cultural Relics Are Not To Be Messed With – Chapter 2

Chapter 2: Guanghe Underworld Criminal Organization

sorry for the slow pace of translations 🙇‍♀️ here’s chapter two!

There is a high chance that Dong Mingbo’s already heard of the demon knife Qi Chen had spoken about, probably because despite being the middle-aged man he is, his heart is yet to be diminished and is still full of desire for thrill and vitality, so he looked for and then collected a knife that looked demonic enough in itself and even named it as such. Besides this possibility, this knife could have also been commissioned with the purpose of replicating Long Ya, or the Dragon Tooth knife, and in the need to make it look as realistic as possible, it was also broken and made to look as though it was the real deal with how it’s being restored.

Of course, it wasn’t as though Qi Chen was silly enough to go ahead and ask these questions, so he left his inner thoughts alone and went out of the office, not forgetting to heed to Dong Mingbo’s request of closing the door. He then went downstairs and returned to his workshop.

Guanghe Company’s number of employees was very limited in number. In the two days Qi Chen has spent working here, he’s only seen around a dozen to twenty people, most of them gathered in the large, open office room located on the second floor of Building A. On one side of the office, there were floor-to-ceiling windows that gave the room a lot of light. There were even potted plants arranged near them in an organized manner. Up ahead, there was a semi-open office room only separated from the outside by a translucent glass door, only a little smaller in size. This was the place where the leaders of each team and department in the office stayed in, in which around seven or eight office tables were placed inside.

When Qi Chen came to report in the first say he went here, it was very fortunate for him that the tables in that office were labeled with name plates indicating who occupied that spot, making it easier to navigate around, all of which were likely put up by the respective owners of those office tables. However, there was one unoccupied table among those. It was empty, and it didn’t have a name plate.

Conveniently, at that moment, there was a girl who was a member of the company’s human resources personnel. She pointed at the empty table and told him: “Originally, this was supposed to be where the deputy leader of the executive team sits, but he had been heavily injured the last time he was out on a business trip. He’s been stuck in a comatose for about two or three years now, so the table was emptied and the computer was restarted. It’s very much alright to occupy the table now, though, so don’t worry too much about anything regarding transferring to a new work place.”

Qi Chen: “...Wait just a moment! What do you mean by ‘heavily injured on a business trip and was rendered comatose for two to three years’? What exactly...?”

The girl thought about it for a moment, then replied: “You call it... vegetative state, was it? The word’s vegetative, right? Ah, whatever. He just doesn’t respond or move anymore, like this–” She then rolled her eyes back and tilted her head, showing him an expression of someone who had hemiplegia for a few seconds.

Qi Chen: “...”

“You get that?” The girl returned to her normal appearance. She patted Qi Chen’s shoulder and then added: “That’s not the main point I have here, though. Honestly speaking, you seem all delicate skin and tender flesh there, so I’d kindly like to remind you of something... do you see that desk behind you?”

Qi Chen really wanted to know how the quiet-looking, small-staff girl managed to speak with the atmosphere like that of a White-Bone Demon*, but he pushed this thought down and turned behind him to look at the desk as she told him to. He was greeted with the sight of a frosted acrylic name plate attached to the desk – Executive Team Leader • Long.

(*t/n: white-bone demon, a character from journey to the west. see: https://villains.fandom.com/wiki/Baigujing. in modern business terms though, it refers to women in powerful positions. think of it as though hr girl is speaking with the voice of someone who you’d expect would be the ceo of the place)

“...Ah, a code name?” His mouth twitched as he looked at the single Chinese character that literally meant ‘dragon’.

HR girl shook her head. “No, he really is surnamed Long.”

In the company, workers often had name plates on their desks, usually containing their position, the team or section that they work in, and their full name for easy and convenient identification. For instance, this table in front of Qi Chen had a name plate with Supervisory Team Leader • Hu Yi engraved on it, just like how the usual pattern of name plates in the company go. This person, however, only had their surname engraved on their name plate, which was rather unusual, but other than that, there didn’t seem to be anything else on the desk that seemed strange. Because of this, Qi Chen wondered: Is there something wrong with this team leader?

It was lunchtime, which meant there weren’t any people in the office, so the HR girl didn’t hold back at all in her talking. She pinched her thumb and index finger together, leaving just a little bit of space between them, and said: “Executive Team Leader Long has a... slightly bad temper, so to say. Don’t try to make any mistakes that might provoke him, alright?”

However, despite two days having passed since he first worked here, Qi Chen was unable to see this slightly bad-tempered executive team leader. It was said that he had gone on a business trip, and his return date hasn’t been determined yet. Qi Chen didn’t take the warning too seriously – the executive team and the logistics team are, after all, different from each other. He’ll just have to be careful when it comes to interacting with other teams, especially with their leaders.

He recorded today’s work – the restoration of the Dragon Tooth knife earlier in the morning – into the work log, then looked at the time, only to see that it was time for lunch. Qi Chen had just clicked save when he felt as though the computer screen suddenly bugged out, and a quick, blinding glare from outside the window flashed before his eyes. He blinked, then turned his head to look at the glass of water on the table. It was half-full, and the water inside of it seemed to be shaking, though it wasn’t very obvious unless it was looked at closely. Soon, it stopped, returning back to normal.

“Earthquake...?” Qi Chen muttered below his breath. He couldn’t help but look up – he felt as though there was some slight movement coming from upstairs just now.

Regardless of whether it was an earthquake or something that was being heavily moved upstairs, it had gone by in the blink of an eye. Qi Chen glanced at the ceiling for a second time and then withdrew his gaze, not thinking much of it.

The people in the company was very precise with their mealtimes – they were never too early or too late when it comes to coming and going about with their food. Naturally, Qi Chen always felt that eating was a delight, so after cleaning up his work table, he took out his phone and his wallet, and then he walked out. Behind him, a small, thin, dark-skinned man also proceeded to walk out, looking down at his phone at the same time.

Because of this, the following events happened:

As they walked out of the building, Qi Chen saw a tall figure emerging from the side, who was just about to enter through the door. Before they could accidentally bump into each other, Qi Chen and the tall man were able to stop walking for a moment.

Qi Chen was secretly celebrating in his heart that he managed to avoid an ‘accident gone bad’ when the man who was fiddling with his phone behind him suddenly ran into Qi Chen.

Thump! Qi Chen was then knocked forward and his forehead hit the tall man’s chin.

Qi Chen: “...”

The man hissed and took a step back, holding his jaw in his hand. “Do you even know how to walk?! Just going around with your eyes closed, aren’t you?”

“Sorry.” Qi Chen rubbed his forehead, thinking to himself, I really did just get shot while I was lying down, didn’t I.

(t/n: to get shot at while lying down = to get berated/scolded despite having done nothing on purpose)

He stepped aside to move out of the man’s way, and only then did he notice that the man was holding a cup of coffee in his other hand. However, he probably had to dispose of it soon, considering that the coffee had splashed out just a bit. Not on Qi Chen’s body, though – on the man’s hand, and his iron gray trousers.

“Lao, Lao, Lao– Boss?! Why are you here?!” The little dark-skinned man poked out his head from behind Qi Chen. Seeing the person who they had bumped into, he couldn’t help but stutter and call out weakly, only to end up shrinking back behind Qi Chen.

Qi Chen, who had somehow became a human-shaped shield: “...”

The man was wearing a light gray dress shirt, very akin to the color of smoke, and it looked as though it had been carefully tailored to fit his body – broad-shouldered and long-legged, tall and lean; it made him look very respectable and serious*. If he didn’t have that annoyed expression on his face, he would’ve definitely left an excellent impression on Qi Chen, 100% at that. He couldn’t see the man who was cowering behind Qi Chen, so Qi Chen had to bear the brunt of his scowl. “Am I not allowed here? Would you rather that I’m not?”

(t/n: literally, he looked like a dog. someone who looks upright and dignified but actually has an unpleasant attitude)

The little man paused and thought back to what he said. After thinking about it, he felt as though he really did just sound rather rude earlier, so he poked his head out from behind Qi Chen again and said, “Boss, why come back just now! We missed you to death!”

Qi Chen: “...” What an ever-loyal dog!

(t/n: literally, what a big dog leg. refers to disciples who’d follow their masters around. may or may not be a reference to the “looked like a dog” part in the previous sentences)

However, the man ignored the little man’s buttery words. Instead, he turned to Qi Chen and sized him up with a disdainful expression on his face. He muttered a few words, though because his voice was too low and quiet, Qi Chen only caught wind of the word ‘knife’ and nothing else.

“Ah, by the way boss, just earlier, my head was lowered down because I was scrolling through Weibo... I wasn’t able to see where I was going, so I knocked into him, which resulted to the two of you bumping into each other...” The little man’s voice kept getting quieter and quieter, and while it was evident he was scared, he didn’t forget to clear Qi Chen’s name to his boss.

Qi Chen didn’t mind too much, in all honesty, but he felt around his pockets for a pack of tissues, took one out and handed it to the man: “I’ll get you another cup. Please wipe your hands.”

“No need!” Despite his temperament, the man has profoundly handsome features, and was born with good and smooth skin. At this moment, though, he had a deep frown on his face, looking as though everyone around him owed him eight million in cash, and his voice was full of impatience. He didn’t even glare at the real cause of their accident – he continued to look menacingly at Qi Chen, turning over the sleeves of his light gray dress shirt over his wrists twice so the coffee doesn’t seep into the fabric, and he ignored the tissue in Qi Chen’s hand. He passed by Qi Chen’s outstretched arm, taking a long step forward, and continued to walk to the office room meant for the team and department leaders in the company. Before he left, though, he snorted coldly and said: “Is your head made of granite?”

Qi Chen: “...”

How come he’s the only one here getting blown up by this person’s gunpowder?!

(t/n: gunpowder = anger, annoyance, like how ‘exploding in anger’ goes.)

Qi Chen turned his head and saw that the real-life powder keg had already strode in to the small office room, walking straight to the desk that Qi Chen had stood in front of not too long ago, and put down his coffee cup on the table...

This was obviously the company’s legendary “slightly bad-tempered” Executive Team Leader Long.

Slightly... bad-tempered...

Haha.

Qi Chen looked away, putting the tissue paper he took out earlier into the little man’s hand. “Let’s just go eat now.”

The little man froze for a moment, and up and about he went, trailing after Qi Chen.

“Qi Chen?” The little man looked at the ID that Qi Chen had on him, and then warmly said, “Eh? Xiao Chen, I’m so sorry... I really was just fiddling around with my phone and didn’t look at where I was going... I ended up even getting you disciplined... Because of this, let me treat you to lunch to make up for it! What do you want to eat? Do you want to go to the underground–“

“Underground what?” Qi Chen wasn’t very familiar with this particular area in the business district, so he didn’t know where the nice places to eat in were. However, he does remember that just beyond the traffic light by the company’s gate, there was an underground shopping mall nearby. He thought that that was what the little man had been telling him about, so he nodded and said: “Alright, let’s eat there. I don’t really know my way around here just yet, so I’ll just go with whatever you recommend. Though, it’s really not necessary to treat me. I won’t break or lose anything just by getting scolded by Executive Team Leader Long, so don’t worry about it.”

“About the executive team leader... he sure does have quite the temper, but most of those in business are like that, you know. It’s normal to find someone here who’s that fierce, and it’s not an understatement to say that we’re all pretty afraid of them. I mean, even Supervisory Team Leader Hu doesn’t look very approachable, always standing there with that menacing face... it’s scary. It does make sense, though, given his position in the supervision team.” He followed Qi Chen, telling him the things he knew while gesturing around. “And Ming-jie, you don’t just get to talk to her whenever you want. Most of the time, she gives everyone that glare overflowing with a k*ller’s aura. If the person on the receiving end isn’t used to it, they might just piss their pants out of fear.”

(t/n: jie, literally, sister. sister ming. used to address girls who are older than you.)

Qi Chen: “...”

He walked out of the company area and looked back at the building’s sign with confusion. He asked the little man: “I still know how to read, right?”

The little man: “...”

Qi Chen: “You were talking about the people working in Guanghe Cultural Heritage Conservation Co., Ltd., right?”

The little man: “...”

Qi Chen: “For a moment, I really thought we worked at Guanghe Underworld Criminal Organization.”

The little man: “Sh... Is something not right?”

Qi Chen nodded. “I don’t think anything here is right.”

The little man: “...”

Qi Chen continued to walk towards the underground shopping mall near the traffic light with a solemn expression on his face. The little man immediately caught up to him in two steps, slapping Qi Chen’s back and said: “Wait a moment!”

F*ck! Can a human being even be this strong?!

Qi Chen, who had been ‘patted’ on the back, almost vomited out his kidneys. He looked back at the other man dejectedly and asked: “What?”

The little man replied, “Why are we stepping out of the company?”

“Aren’t we going to the underground mall to eat?” Qi Chen looked puzzled.

The little man took a look at the entrance to the underground mall near them and suddenly remembered that there was indeed a food court inside. “Ah! So you want to eat human food today?”

Qi Chen: “...” What are you even saying!

“Then... what was that underground thing you mentioned earlier?” Qi Chen asked exasperatedly.

The little man turned his head and pointed at the company building. “There’s a cafeteria in the basement floor of our building. You can enter just by swiping your ID.”

“...” The corners of Qi Chen’s mouth twitched. “Do you... usually eat non-human food?”

The little man’s face brightened. “Yes!”

Qi Chen decisively crossed the road. “...No thank you. I think I’ll pass on the company cafeteria for now...”

The little man stood on one side of the road and looked at Qi Chen’s back, muttering to himself: “There’s something wrong here...”

He followed the rope tied to his ID while crossing the road and caught up to Qi Chen in three steps.

The midday sun reflected on the glass windows of the high-rise buildings, the light felt more of a glare to the eyes, blinding anyone who looks. Behind him, there was a heavy traffic, and pedestrians bustled in a stream. When Qi Chen was about to step on the escalator to go to the underground mall, he heard the little man behind him mumble something, and asked him: “Xiao Chen, you wouldn’t happen to be human, would y–“

“AH–!”

Someone let out a shrill shriek not too far from behind them, interrupting the little man’s words. They were both startled, stopping in their tracks and looking back at the commotion. A crowd had formed by the road. Qi Chen didn’t know what happened, only that nothing happened in the road just then. He could vaguely hear a woman crying out loud, and the onlookers let out worried noises.

“I’m not... I... I don’t know how I...”

The words were said rather irregularly in broken stutters, until it didn’t even sound coherent at all.

The author has something to say:

Little theater: Qi Chen: The moment I met you, it felt like eating ☐☐ do you have a grudge against me →_→ Long Ya: You literally filed me all over! Qi Chen: Obviously I had to, it’s not on purpose, but glaring at me and only me, aren’t you afraid that your eyes might fall out →_→ Long Ya: You actually used something so ordinary and stupid as a metal file on me! Qi Chen: File and weld gently my &ss! Long Ya: Now that you’ve mentioned it, you actually f*cking welded me with a welding gun too! Qi Chen: No way to talk properly now [bye bye (t/n: literally, 【手动拜拜. refers to the bye bye hand emoticon on weibo and qq that moves)

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(As of 04/13/21: Edited.)

[chilling-seavey]

Qui Totum Vult Totum Perdit (d.s.) - The Fight

A/N With Hope’s intense google doc analysis of trying to piece together Daniel and Avalon’s fight through his flashbacks, I figured I should give you the real thing!

“Your ignorance is fucking incredible, Daniel James!”

Her words were venomous, punctuated by the slam of the front door the moment we stepped back inside the house. I was still trying to put my wallet in my pocket after paying the taxi driver, showing exactly how quickly she decided to snap back at me after we already endured a terribly tense flight home. Yet, apparently a simple question of “are you okay” was completely disgusting of me to ask.

“You can’t just lose your temper like this every time you get a bit upset, Avalon! I’m just trying to talk to you.” I called as calmly as I could as I set my computer bag on the kitchen island.

She grabbed herself an empty glass from the cupboard and slammed the door shut before turning on the tap aggressively. Her brown eyes glared daggers in my direction over the rim of the glass as she raised it to her lips to take a sip and the diamond ring on her left hand caught the light of the late evening setting sun coming in through the window. Flickers of orange light writhed on the marble countertop between us and died when she lowered her hand out of the incoming rays.

There was a moment of silence as the beginnings of this obvious inevitable fight lingered between us.

“Trying to talk to me?” she repeated my words slowly as she stepped around the island, water glass held in both hands as if she was ready to interrogate me, “Well, gee, Daniel, that’s the first time in days you’ve even bothered.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I frowned.

“You spent most of our honeymoon with your laptop and your goddamn work rather than with me.”

I sighed, “Ava, come on, you know I had to-”

“No! You didn’t have to do anything! The only thing you had to do was relax for the first time in your goddamn life but that was too much to ask, wasn’t it? God…stupid me.” she shook her head in near disbelief, “I thought you might have actually given a shit about me once we got to Costa Rica but apparently, I was wrong.”

A rouge was rising on her sun-tanned cheeks, a clear indication of her true anger she felt, but her accusations weren’t making it easy for me to simply let her have this one. It was a fight we had before and were probably destined to again. It just came with the job.

“Give a shit about you? Avalon, you’re my fucking wife, of course I give a shit about you! You were the one complaining about wanting to leave the entire time. That doesn’t make the trip very fucking enjoyable.”

“You weren’t around me!” she yelled, tapping her hand against the cup in her hand so the sound of her ring against the glass punctuated each of her words. “What person wants to spend their honeymoon alone? Of course, I wanted to go home! I was basically there by myself and I was miserable!”

“I had to get some shit done! Jonah needed me to double check a few things while we were away. It’s not the end of the world and I’m sorry if you feel that way!”

I could see her visibly tense and she turned her head so she didn’t have to look at me, jabbing under her breath, “That’s always your excuse, isn’t it? ‘Always gotta get some shit done’. Well, I’m sick and tired of coming second to your work all the time.”

“Well what do you want me to do?! Do you not like having this house and a nice car and that huge fucking diamond on your finger? Well sorry to break it to you, honey, but without this job, you wouldn’t have any of that!”

“There you go again!” Avalon threw her hand up in my direction, “It’s not all about your fucking money, Daniel! I don’t care about that! I would even be perfectly happy living on the side of the fucking street with you because I love you! None of this other shit that you think is required for a happy and fulfilling life; because – news flash – it’s not!”

“Well it makes me pretty damn happy.”

“Oh really? Are you happy now? Huh? Does this make you fucking happy?”

“Yes! Because at least my house or my car doesn’t spew this fucking bullshit at me all the time!” I yelled back.

Avalon literally scoffed and took a step back, her voice lowered to a steady unimpressed drawl, “You’re a selfish prick, Daniel Seavey. I’m done trying to help you…you’re such a lost cause that…God…sometimes I wish I never married you.”

“Then why did you? If I make you so fucking miserable all the time! Are you that insecure that you’d rather be miserable with me than be alone? You can’t stand yourself either, can you?”

“Fuck you!”

“My brother always told me you were too fucking weak to be my wife…couldn’t handle the baggage that comes with the job.”

“Leave Christian out of this. He doesn’t know bull-fucking-shit about us and especially not about me. Neither of you know how hard it is!”

“It’s not hard, Avalon! You sit here and look pretty and I buy you sparkly things! It’s not fucking hard! You’re just being an obnoxious brat about everything, and you always have!”

“You invalidate my feelings all the time!” she yelled.

“You’re too goddamn sensitive! It’s not a big deal!” I shouted louder to top her.

“God, I fucking hate you!” she huffed. She turned to set the glass angrily on the kitchen counter but it fell and shattered on the kitchen floor between us, silencing our screaming match except for our heavy breaths and Avalon’s sniffled tears.

I sighed at the realization that the whole confrontation went on too far and I tried to reach for her, but she pulled her hand back and moved away from me, “Aves.”

“Don’t.” she snapped.

“Avalon, I’m sorry, I-”

“Sorry doesn’t fix everything.” she retorted sharply, yet I could hear the exhaustion in her voice. “I’m sleeping in the studio tonight.”

I swallowed thickly and nodded, glancing to the ground with a heavy heart, the pieces of broken glass shimmering in the kitchen light between us. She went to step around me but I instinctively reached out a hand to her to keep her back from accidently stepping on any broken glass, “Careful.”

“God, Daniel.” she huffed, “Please don’t.”

I didn’t make a move to stop her as she walked around me to storm across the living room and to the back door. She didn’t look back as she opened the sliding glass door and slipped out into the darkness that the falling night brought. I watched her disappear out of the house and into the backyard, her form fading from view like she had been a figment of my imagination the whole time, the cruelest most perfect kind of dream.

Oh, how I loved her. And I was so, so stupid.

I busied myself in her absence by bringing my laptop bag and our shared suitcase to the master bedroom and rested them against the wall just inside the door. I returned to the kitchen to clean up the broken glass and spilt water, glancing out the back door as if half expecting her to come back inside. I was met with darkness.

I squinted slightly to try and see the light from the backyard studio window but it was still pitch black. Odd. Usually you could see the light from the main house. I brushed it off that she simply went to bed early after such a fight and focussed on the broken glass. I had just crouched down to pick up the worst of it with a steady hand when the pling of the security camera peaked my attention. It rang steady from the monitor’s spot on the front counter and I headed over to it to check on the studio cameras, but the alarm was disarmed from the studio before I could reach it, sending the kitchen back into silence.

My phone buzzed in my pocket at that moment and I pulled it out to read the text from my older brother,

Did you get home okay?

I hesitated as I read his message, not particularly wanting to be honest with him and have to endure his confessions of his dislike of my new wife and her very personable opinions on my job. It was our private relationship and Christian seemed to like to weasel his nose into it sometimes. Ah, well. He meant well. Before I could decide if I wanted to answer him right away or not, I heard a faint scream from the backyard and my head shot up to look towards the sliding glass doors. I paused, expecting Avalon to come running in to ask me to kill a spider any moment now.

But there was nothing.

I pocketed my phone and walked briskly across the main floor of the house, broken glass forgotten, and slipped outside into the warm LA evening. The studio was only a few paces from the back porch and I jumped down the three steps and across the stone tiles to the door. I didn’t bother knocking before I went inside, the darkness that consumed me when I entered already adding more concern to my conscious, and I reached for the light switch blindly.

“Ava? I thought I heard you scream, are you-”

The scene that met my eyes with the flick of the switch had my breath stopping in my throat, my words falling into silence, and my heart dropping into my stomach. Avalon was laying over the rug across the small room, eyes staring blankly into the ceiling, and her throat slit until she was laying in a pool of her own blood.

“Aves.” I breathed shakily, taking a step towards her, then a second, “Avalon, honey…”

She wasn’t moving. I barely made it halfway across the studio but with my back to the door I had entered through, someone came up behind me and grabbed me, slapping their hand over my mouth and holding me down by an arm around my waist. I struggled and tried to get away but they had a good grip on me as they swiped my feet out from under me and took me to the ground. The sharp slam of my head hitting the side of the piano on the way down was the last sound in the room before I blacked out.

Detective Team: @jonahlovescoffee​ @randomlimelightxxx​ @stuffofseaveyy​ @hopinglimelight​ @tempus-ut-luceant​ @br4nd1s​ @xkelsev​ @hiya-its-amber​ @the-girl-who-cried-wolf​

[rainydayhogwartsimagines]

Whoops.

(Draco!Healer x reader!teacher)

Note: I am writing way too much about Draco, damn

Summary: Draco is a healer for Hogwarts, his best friend is a teacher and the students have seemed to notice a possible romance in the works

Warnings: Fluff, injuries, swearing, and yes you are shirtless in a scene or two, the phrase "eye shagging"

You stood beside your desk. "So in summary, no Gaston, you can not use that in a potion because it'd explode." You laughed out. The students all chuckled. "Ma'am.. i cut myself on my beaker can I go get a bandage?" A student asked. You rose a brow. "There's a broken beaker?" You asked. "Yeah, Gaston kind of used eye of newt when your back was turned." The student said. "...Great. Gaston, fifteen points from Gryffindor, miss Weasley get a band aid out of my top desk, class dismissed." You said with a small sigh. You got a bucket and picked up the broken glass. "Miss Weasley, class is--" "I know. But dad would kill me if I didn't help." She said. You chuckled. "I'm sure George wouldn't." You said, picking up shards of glass from the floor. You however picked up the shard the wrong way, cutting your palm. "Shit!" You hissed. "Oh no! Do I need to get a bandage--" "I'm a afraid a bandaid won't fix this." You laughed. "Thank you dear, you should get to class. I got lucky that I don't have students this hour." You assured. She nodded and left, leaving the small mess of glass. You cleaned it up, walking to Madame Pomfrey. "Oh dear, what happened to your hand!?" She asked. "Gaston Burkley decided eye of newt looked fantastic in a antidote for common poisons." You explained. "Goodness that boy loves to cause trouble." She huffed. "Draco will tend to you." She said. "Wait did you say--" A head popped out from a curtain. "Hello there." He greeted with a smile. You smirked. "So when you said 'I got a new job' this is what you meant?" You asked. He chuckled. "Yes." He nodded walking over to you. "Holy crap what happened to your hand?" He asked looking down at it. "A kid decided to add eye of newt to a potion that did not require eye of newt." You said. He chuckled and asked you to sit down. You sat in a seat and he pulled a stool forward, grabbing disinfectant, tweezers and a bandage. He pulled your hand forward. "How big was this shard of glass?" He asked. "Well it was a big beaker so-- Ow!" You winced. "Focus on the questions Y/n." He said. "So you became a potions teacher." He said. "And you became-- Ow-- a pain in my arse apparently." You winced. He chuckled. "After the battle I wanted to help people. I decided medicine was the best way." He said. You smiled. "You always were so kind for someone who pretended to be such a dick." You teased. "I only showed that side to you though." He chuckled. You looked up at him. "We were really close weren't we?" You asked. He smiled looking up. "You were the reason I stayed with the students." He said softly. You felt your cheeks heat up. During the battle his father was so determined to get his son to be a deatheater and side with Voldemort. But the moment he even shifted you just took Draco's hand and he didn't budge. Knowing you were the whole reason he stayed... Really changed the atmosphere of the room.

He cleared his throat, looking down at your hand. "I don't think you'll need stitches but it will definitely scar." He said. "there goes my options of being a hand model." You joked. He chuckled. "I mean you have another hand" he teased. "True true. I think I'll stick to teaching though." You said. "I'm going to warn you this is going to burn." He warned. "I'm sure it's not that bad-- OW HOLY CRAP WHAT DID YOU DO, LIGHT IT ON FIRE!?" You winced. He tried not to laugh, ultimately failing and almost going red. You frowned, almost pouting at him. "Ass." You said making him laugh. "Forgive me but when you said 'I'm sure I can handle it' followed by the equivalent of 'No I can't' I can't help but laugh at that." He laughed out. "He's lucky he's cute. Bastard." You thought internally. He wrapped your hand. "Come to me if you need anything else okay?" He said. You nodded and returned to your classroom.

Class the next day was odd, to say the least. A student's wand seemed to be on the fritz. "What in the bloody blazes is--" "DUCK!" a student yelled. You ducked in time to avoid a bolt. "someone hexed his wand!" A student concluded. "Lily, go get the defense teacher-- Crap!" You dodged. You sighed in relief, narrowly avoiding a spark until "MISS Y/N LOOK OUT--"

You didn't exactly miss that last one. The defense teacher found you on the floor with a gouge in your chest. "Goodness! What happened?" She asked. "Someone hexed Francis' wand!" A student ducked under a desk answered. After removing the hex, she brought you to the wing. "Oh my goodness-- Draco!" Madame Pomfrey called. Draco walked out and saw you, his heart dropping as he did. "What happened!?" He asked. "A student's wand was hexed, tell me she's going to be fine." The teacher said. Draco pushed aside the uncomfortable feeling from removing your shirt and looked at the wound. "It's going to require stitched but I think she'll be fine." Pomfrey concluded. Mcgonagall ran in. "I heard a teacher was injured." She said. Draco was stitching you up, best to his abilities. "Goodness gracious these students will quite literally be the death of us." She sighed. Students were outside of the wing, catching Mcgonagall off guard. "Is she going to be alright?" A student asked. "she'll be fine--" "Who did this?" Mcgonagall asked. Everyone turned to Gaston. "Detention. You're lucky I don't expell you either." She said sharply. "Yes Headmaster." He sighed.

You were out like a light for a few days, Draco sitting by you any free time he had. Occasionally students would visit to see if you were okay, and maybe see the cute medic, but would leave after a few minutes.

You finally woke up though, wincing as you leaned up. "What in the bloody hell happened?" Your first words were. Draco resisted a snort. "That Berkely kid loves to cause trouble." Draco answered. You chuckled. "Ah. Reminds me of--" "Fred and George" both of you said before laughing. "How are those two?" Draco asked. "Mmm. Well I have to deal with the WONDERFUL offspring who clearly get merchandise from their shop." You answered. "How is... All of them?" Draco asked. You smiled. "They're good. Ron and Hermione had a nice wedding. Harry and Ginny did too." You said. "Ah." Draco nodded. "they've asked about you." You said as Draco grabbed antiseptic. He rose a brow turning around. "They have?" He asked. "mmm hmm." You nodded. "Molly says she's sent you sweaters..." You said. He chuckled and nodded. "How in the blazes did that woman even get my measurement.... y/n did you give her my measurements?" He asked making you chuckle. "Mayyyybbbeee." You said. He rolled his eyes. "I'm surprised they would even want to know about me after..." He shook his head. "You saved Fred's life. Molly would never forget something like that." You said. "I blasted a rock." He said. "You saved him." You corrected. Draco looked at you with a bandage in hand. "I'll write to her then..." Draco said with a small smile. "Is this the burning stuff?" You asked. "Sadly, yes." He said. "You must hate me. You've got to, to be using that." You groaned. He rolled his eyes. "Y/n I need you to remove your shirt." He said. You sighed unbuttoning it. "So did never got married?" You asked catching Draco off guard. "Uhm... No. No I didn't." He answered. "Huh." You said. Hermione would never let you here the end of this one. He applied the antiseptic and you winced. "Fucking hell." You groaned. Yep. That's definitely proof you never changed. You always had such a strong mouth. Strong will to back that up too. You leaned forward, allowing Draco to apply the bandages. "Thank you Draco." You said sincerely. He smiled. "You're welcome Y/n." He said. "Uhhh Mister Malfoy, Wesley fell off his broom again." A student called. "Again? Jesus how directionally challenged is this kid?" Draco asked making you laugh.

You went back to teaching, coming in during your breaks to change the bandages and catch up. However your wounds were almost healed and you were now just taking potions prescribed by Draco. Draco knocked on the door frame and you turned around. "It's that time already?" You groaned. "Afraid so." He said. "This stuff tastes like piss." You groaned as he handed you a glass. The students laughed. "You still don't have a filter, even with your students." He chuckled. "Draco, when have I ever?" You asked. "How long have you two known each other?" A student asked. Both of you pondered. "Way too long." You chuckled before drinking it. You coughed and gagged. "Seriously? Whoever designed that must have dead taste buds." You said. He laughed and you smiled. A student's nose began to bleed and he walked over, helping them. "Allergies?" You asked the kid. "I hate them." She grumbled. You smiled and sighed, turning back to write on the board. "At least you get more time with mister Malfoy though." The student said making both of you freeze in place. "What was that?" You asked turning back around. "We've all noticed it, the whole heart eyes, puppy love look you two give each other." A student said. You shook your head, picking up a bottled water and sipping it to get rid of the medicine's taste. "Please, they're practically shagging each other with their eyes." Fred's son, Arthur declared making you cough up the water and Draco turn crimson. "Weasley!" A student scolded. "Those were my Dad's words when describing those two! He said ever since third year the two of them were always looking at each other that way." He said. Draco chuckled. "Of course Fred did." Draco muttered, mentally punching Fred in his mind. "Seriously though, it is obvious that you two are in love." Another student said. "We aren't--" "No we aren't--" "That's--" you both stuttered over every word. "See, you can't even lie about it." Arthur said. You blushed and turned back to the board. "Wait your dad knew them in their third year?" A student asked. "Mister Malfoy saved my dad's life in the battle of hogwarts." Arthur answered. A bunch of students let out "Woahs" and "oohs" but you snorted. "Told you he held you in high regard!" You said to Draco. "Oh sod off." Draco laughed.

"My nose is still not letting up, am I dying?" The student asked. "You're not dying, you might've scratched the inside of it though" Draco said turning back to the student. "Miss Y/n also comes over for all of the holidays and talks a lot about Mister Malfoy too." Arthur said making you snap the chalk with how hard you bared down on it. "Can we please change the subject Arthur!?" You asked. "Yes ma'am." He laughed out. Draco smiled to himself but noticed you didn't ask them to stop talking. You actually would chime in on the personal conversation occasionally as you wrote. "Wait so you knew the Auror Harry?" A student asked. "The Potters go here dude, this isn't new." A student replied. "Yeah but still." They said. "We both knew him." Draco said, cleaning up the remnants of the nosebleed. "My mum knew you too. Said something about punching you in your third year" the student said making you snort. "Is your mother Hermione?" He asked. "Yes." The girl nodded. "That's true." Draco said making the students laugh. "Let's not forget he was a good quidditch player too." You reminded. "Not as good as you were." Draco corrected. "Draco, you could've been in the big leagues if you wanted." You said. "You're the one that managed to trigger a sonic boom while flying." Draco reminded. "You both played quidditch?" A student asked. "Yes. Draco had won most of the matches he was in." You said. "Aside from you and--" you both mimicked the voice Draco would use when talking about Harry "Potter." You both said making the students laugh.

"Do you like teaching instead miss Y/n?" A student asked. You turned around, a sincere smile as you faced the class. "I wouldn't trade this for the world." You said. Draco's heart skipped a beat looking at your happy expression. "It is strange teaching my friends' children though." You added making the students laugh. Draco smiled at that and a student noticed his look. "Was it fun going to school with our parents?" Another student asked. "Oh most definitely. Especially Arthur and Bill's parents. Those two were insane." You laughed. "Oh are you referring to the underground business they ran or the explosives they set off to anger Umbridge?" Draco asked. "Wait what?" A student asked. "Oh yeah, that was a fun day wasn't it?" You laughed. "Fun? It was fantastic." He said. He shook his head "But nothing will ever beat--" "Hogsmeade." Both of you said. You both exchanged looks and the students all felt the tension between you two. "They're doing that thing again." A student whispered. "Oh you mean SHAGGING WITH THEIR EYES!?" Arthur yelled making both of you dissolve into laughter along with the students. "I should go, sorry for disturbing your class." Draco said. "Bye Draco." You waved. He left and you shook your head.

"You so take after your father." You said to Arthur. "We were serious about you and Mister Malfoy though!" A student said. "you two would be perfect for each other Miss Y/n!" Another agreed. "Goodness knows he's in love at least." Another student said. You shook your head with a small smile. "what on earth would make you think that?" You asked. "Maybe the fact that while you were asleep he never left your side. Or the fact that you're with him everytime you're given a break. Or as Arthur said 'the eye shagging of a lifetime'." The student declared. "Oh won't you admit it Miss Y/n? At least say he's attractive!" A student begged. "Don't you guys have anything better to do than gossip over faculty members?" You groaned. "The student's drama is so DULL. This is the highlight of the year! Give us something! Pleassee!" A student begged. You sighed turning back to the board making the students groan. "He's cute." You said making the students roar with delight.

That day was so tiring. You walked into the medic wing and he looked up. "Hey you." He said with a smile. "Hi. I'm exhausted." You said, face planting onto an empty bed. He laughed. "Students tired you out?" He asked. "Oh God. Do not remind me of those little mongrels." You groaned. He shook his head with a smile. "they seemed fixated on me and you" he said. "Oh they love to talk." You chuckled. "One of the students came for their medication earlier." He said grabbing something. "Oh?" You asked. "they said that you concluded that I was 'Cute'." He said with a teasing smile. Snitch. Thar kid was a little snitch.

You rolled your eyes. "These students will be the death of me." You groaned. Draco noticed your avoidance around your answer. "Did you actually call me cute?" He asked, a smirk coming to play on his lips. "I'm not answering that." You laughed out. "Hmm. I'm thinking I know the answer now." He said. You rolled your eyes. "Yes Draco I called you cute." You finally answered. He shook his head with a chuckle.

The two of you never brought it up again until the next time he came with that disgusting medicine. "Oh yay! Poison!" You said. "Y/n you act like a child when it comes to this." Draco said. The students laughed at the banter. You drank it, again, gagging as you did. "It tastes like tar." You wheezed making him laugh. He handed you a bottle of water and you took it. "So did you two talk?" A student asked. "Yes, Madi he's aware of what I said." You said with an eye roll. Draco shook his head, walking towards the door. "No I mean about what he said about you." She said. You looked up with a brow raised. "What?" You asked. "Uhhh..." Draco didn't move, why wouldn't he move. "He said he regretted not telling you something in your forth year." The student said. "Oh?" You asked noticing the nervous look on Draco's face. Arthur leaned off of his hand, perking up like a dog. The students were all hushed. "Draco, care to comment?" You asked. He took his hand off the handle and turned back. "I'm not saying this in front of your students." He declared. "Saying what Draco?" You asked. "Nice try." He said with an eye roll. "You're dancing around the subject." You said stepping towards him. "Maybe I am." He admitted. "Maybe? Sorry do you need tap shoes for the way you're dancing right now?" You asked. He sighed. "What are they talking about?" You asked again, still walking towards him. "It's nothing." He lied. "Draco if it were nothing you would've told me by now." You said. The students were all watching intently. "What are they talking about?" You asked, looking straight into his eyes and he cracked. "That I've been in love with you since our fourth year and I haven't said anything because I didn't know if you felt the same." He said. You blinked and the room was so quiet you could hear a pin drop. ".... Draco..." You said, standing so close to him that he could feel your breath. "I never said anything because I didn't know if you felt the same way either." You admitted making everyone almost gasp. He looked into your eyes, cupping your face and kissing you making the entire class cheer. "IT'S ABOUT TIME!" Arthur yelled. You both smiled against each other's lips. "We're never hearing the end of this are we?" Draco asked. "Hell no." You said making him laugh and kiss you again.

You were the talk of everyone's morning for a while and that spark definitely turned into a flame after you two got engaged. Best part: it happened during class. Draco would sit in the back of your classroom watching you teach, occasionally answering kid's questions about what their parents were like in school. He was sitting there watching you and you were laughing at someone's joke. "You two seem so in love." A student said. "We are." You both said, smiles as you answered. "Thanks to us!" Arthur said. "Yes, you and your wonderful 'eye shagging' comments just made me fall head over heels." You snorted. Draco laughed and you smiled. "Have you two thought about getting married?" Bill asked. You both froze during that question. "miss Y/n?" A student said. "Well that's uhm..." You turned back to the bored. "Have you?" Draco asked, noticing the avoidance to the question. "Everyone woman thinks about that when she's in love Draco." You concluded. "So you have?" He asked. "Yes. Have you?" You asked. He got up, walking up to you and setting something in your hand. "I don't know. Have I?" He asked. You looked at your hand to see a ring resting there and you gasped very loudly. "Oh my God Draco." You said. "Will you?" He asked. "Well you have to ask me properly!" You said, tears clouding your eyes. He chuckled, taking the ring and getting down on one knee making the students gasp. "Professor Y/n L/n. Will you marry me?" He asked. You nodded and kissed him making the entire class basically scream.

The two of you did get married, Bill and Arthur taking the credit for the two of you being together in the first place. That came back to bite them though when Fred ended up being the substitute teacher for when you went off on your honeymoon, Fred busting out baby pictures when he'd misbehave. "DAD NO--" "And here's him in his first Weasley sweater!" "DAD!"

[peterspideyy]

chapter 1 | safe

series masterlist

————

newt sat up, inhaling as much air as he could manage, as his eyes shot open. he felt a pain soar through his body, causing him to groan at the feeling. his ears rang with each heavy beat of his heart, as he allowed himself to look around and gather his bearings.

he was in a hut of some sort. it was old and basic. an oak table, with two chairs tucked underneath it. dusty windows, causing newt to hardly see anything out of it. a vase on the window sill, with dead flowers in it. there’s a cupboard above a sink in the corner, with the door broken off the hinges, causing newt just to see half of a blue box, with the letters ‘cd’ on it. wooden walls decaying surrounded him, with parts of it broken, allowing newt just the chance to see through the tiny cracks.

he saw the scorch. he could recognise that dreadful sand from a mile away. he still remembers that walk to the right arm, like the back of his hand. and how thomas said-

newt gasped.

thomas. minho. gally. frypan.

where was his friends?

and then, all the memories of that night came back.

he was dead. a knife was plunged in his chest. he still remembers the excruciating pain he felt, yet he still smiled at his tommy, before all the life was drained out of him. they must of left him to burn as the last city crumbled down. he doesn’t feel angry at them, for leaving him. he would of done the same. it would of been extra baggage.

but, if he was dead, then why is he alive? he can see the room he is in. he can hear the distant winds of the scorch. he can feel the hard floor beneath him. he wouldn’t of been able to do that, if he was bloody dead.

newt looked down, brining his hands up into his vision. as well as noticing how clean they were, the veins were gone. he scrambled his t-shirt sleeve up, to see his infected scar- gone. it was like it never existed in the first place.

“what the...” newt thought to himself, looking at his other arm, remembering the dark veins covering it, but instead saw his own skin starring back at him.

what happened to him?

suddenly, the front door slammed open, causing the british boy to jump to his feet, but he instantly regretted that thanks to the thumping pain in his brain, as all the blood rushed to his head. but, he stopped wincing, as a figure walked into the hut.

newt immediately noticed the rifle, leaning on there left shoulder. the person stood still, just starring at the quivering boy, before walking into the light. the woman was a bit taller than newt but looked around the same age as him, with dark brown hair, tied messily into a pony tail. some strands still fell in front of her face though, hiding her hazel eyes and blank expression. but, she suddenly chuckled slightly, walking to the table, throwing the gun on top of it, causing a loud bang that made newt flinch.

“thought you would never wake up.” she spoke, still not turning to face newt, as she placed a bullet onto the side. her voice was petite, that surprised newt a lot.

“well,” newt coughed, clearing his through, “well, i-i have now.”

she turned to face him, “no shit.”

newt gulped.

“got a name?” she inquired.

“newt.”

she raised her eyebrows, “newt?”

he nodded.

after a couple minutes of silence passed, and as newt watched the woman put the rifle away, he cleared his through again.

“what‘s...your name?”

“doesn’t matter,” she walked towards him, “what matters is that you get out of my house.”

“what?”

“you heard me.” she sighed, walking away to open the door, gesturing for him to walk through it.

newt couldn’t leave now. he needed answers.

“no, i’m not going.”

“what?!” she shouted, eyes wide.

“the last thing i remember, is me dying. and now i’m alive? it’s not everyday that you die and come bloody back to life?!”

the woman froze, taking in his words.

“so, you either tell me why i’m alive or i’m not leaving.”

————

thomas shot up, breathing out heavily, sweat dripping off his forehead as his eyes shot open. tears fell down his cheek, at the nightmare he just visualised. well, it wasn’t a nightmare. he actually watched his best friend die in his arms.

he chocked back a sob, as it hit in, nearly knocking him unconscious.

newt’s dead. and it’s all his fault.

if only he fought harder for newt to stay with gally and wait for the serum, instead of listening to his ‘you can’t do it on your own.’ if only he didn’t get distracted for wanting to kill ava paige, he could of instead focused of saving newt and minho. if only-

“hey, thomas.”

he looked up to see minho, stood in the doorway of the tent. he smiled, but it never met his eyes. thomas returned to gesture back slightly, as they both silently mourned there friend. guilt still eats away at thomas. he caused minho to loose the only person he trusts and cares about, since the maze.

“hey, minho. what’s up?” thomas asked, standing up out of his bed, rubbing his eyes.

minho stood silently, watching his actions, noticing the dark bags underneath his eyes, “just letting you know that frypan has cooked breakfast.”

“oh, erm...i’ll be right out.” thomas mumbled.

“okay.” minho nodded, but neither of them moved.

“are you okay?”

minho’s question caused thomas’ heart to pang in pain, as his breaths got caught up in his throat. tears welled up in his eyes at the most simple question in the world. how could he be okay, after loosing the one thing that meant so much to him?

“yeah, i’m fine.” he lied, while minho raised his eyebrows, not fully convinced.

“well, hurry up...bet you’re starving.”

thomas laughed slightly, as minho chuckled too, before walking away to the other gladers. and as soon as minho walked away, thomas buried his head into his hands, as a heavy cry racketed out of his body, causing him to completely break down into sobs.

————

“tell me everything.” newt demanded, as the woman gave him a glass of water, as they both sat across from each other, on the wonky oak table.

she sighed, sipping her drink, before starting.

“the whole city was burning down, because-“

“of the people outside the walls.”

she stopped, “yeah, don’t interrupt me though.”

“sorry.”

“anyway, me and a couple of my friends were running to safety, and then...i saw you, on the floor. dead.”

“wait! stop!” she screamed to her friends, over the loud sounds of gunshots and explosions.

“that’s a-a person.” she shouted, running over to the figure on the ground.

she didn’t bother to see if her friends followed her or not, to bothered at the man with a knife plunged in his chest. she didn’t know him. she’s never seen him in his life. but, a sudden feeling of sorrow overcome her body, causing her to kneel down beside him.

“he’s not worth it.” her friend breathed out, standing just behind her.

“everyone is worth it.”

she heard a sigh, “he’s a crank. he’s far to gone. and we won’t be much better if we stay here, mourning over someone we barely know!”

she shook her head, placing her fingers on his cold neck to try and find a pulse. but failed.

“you’re not a doctor anymore. you can’t save everyone. so let’s go!” her friend shouted, turning to run away.

but, she didn’t follow, still starring at the lifeless eyes of the young boy.

“he probably deserved the world.” she thought, still hoping to feel a pulse. but, it never happened.

breathing out heavily, she was going to stand up, and follow her friends, but froze as she felt a small vibration in her finger. she starred at the boy, who wasn’t moving as the vibrations increased. it was a heartbeat.

“oh my god!” she whispered.

he was alive. but, only just.

and then the boy’s body stirred, as a small groan left his cracked lips. she kneeled beside him, eyes wide at the sight of a person literally coming back from the dead. she’s never seen this happen. never the less with a crank.

“hello? can you hear me?” she asked, hoping the boy would reply. praying he would. even just a little ‘yes.’

and he did. but, he replied with something she would never expect.

with a small hoarse voice he whispered, ‘tommy.’

and passed out again.

————

thomas eventually left his tent, after double checking all signs of him crying were not visible, he followed the smells of frypans cooking. he smiled at people he passed, not knowing half of them, but still felt responsible to do so. he was responsible for everyone’s freedom.

then how come he couldn’t save newt?

walking to the kitchen, he smiled as frypan already handed him a plate of food, that made his mouth water.

he’s not surprised at how hungry he is. he hasn’t eaten in days.

“thanks fry.” he mumbled, while the cook nodded at him sadly.

thomas walked away from the kitchen, walking past his group of friends by the bonfire, to sit on the ground infront of the stone. sitting down, he starred up at the stone glancing at names carved into it. he looked at names he didn’t know, but still felt remorse for them. but, then he saw names he did know.

and it hurt.

chuck. little chuck didn’t deserve to go. they finally escaped the maze. but, he’s not here anymore. he made a promise to chuck. and he broke it.

alby. god. out of everyone from the maze, he was one of the people who truely deserved to be free. he was the first one up after all. and thomas failed him.

winston. he tried to take care of his friends like he promised him in the scorch. he still remembers the sound of the gunshot engulfing him as they walked away from their dying friend.

teresa. he knows what she was trying to do. she was trying to help. she thought she was helping. he never loved teresa. sure they kissed before she fell to her death, but he never loved her.

and then his eyes landed on newt’s.

thomas couldn’t bare to look at his name anymore, as tears blocked his vision.

————

newt looked through one of the the gaps in the wall, after the woman stopped talking a couple of minutes ago. to say he was confused was an understatement. he coughed, glancing at her who was leaning back in her chair, already starring at him.

“how did you save me then? theres no cure.”

“i know,” the girl nodded, “b-but, somehow the knife missed your heart. and as i removed it when you were unconscious, there was someone else’s blood on it? i think that blood saved you. and i’m a doctor, i have erm...resources that can help you.”

“who’s blood was it?”

“i’m not sure.” she looked away, almost seeming nervous suddenly, “but, it seems like whoever’s blood that was, was already on the knife before it-“

“was stabbed into me?” newt finished.

the woman nodded, “yeah.”

and then it hit newt. just out the blue. he remembered.

“i know who’s blood it is.”

she turned to face him, “who?”

“it’s thomas’ blood.” he cringed.

newt remembers when he pierced his skin, just slightly. but, even though he had no control over his actions, he still remembers the amount of guilt he felt as he heard thomas’ pained screams fall from his lips.

he wish thomas never saw him like that. so animalistic and aggressive.

“oh, the person you say in your sleep. what is he your boyfriend or something?”

newt chocked on his water, “what?!”

“you heard me,” she winked, laughing at the stuttering mess infront of her, “well, it seems like your boyfriend is the cure. do you know where he is?”

newt tried not to blush at the word ‘boyfriend’ before replying.

“unless he’s dead, then he’ll be at the safe haven.”

dead? if tommy is dead then...

no, he can’t be dead. h-he shouldn’t think of the worse.

he has to be alive.

“the safe haven?”

“yeah, it’s where everyone goes when they want to be free of wckd and cranks and-“

“i know what it is,” she cut off, standing up with a wide smile of her face, “i’ve been trying to find that for years. i didn’t think it was real!”

“i haven’t been but...i-i assume it’s real. why are you laughing so much?” newt questioned, gesturing the woman laughing her head off that was once harsh to him.

“because newt, we’re going.”

“g-going where?”

“the safe haven you div!” she shouted, clapping her hands together.

“i don’t even know where it is! all i know is that it’s on a beach! do you realise how many beaches there are in the world?! and beside i hardly know anything about you-“

“my name’s kira. and that’s all you need to know about me.” she mumbled, causing newt to gulp.

“o-okay kira, well i have no bloody idea on how to get to it anyway!”

“that’s why we’ll go together.”

newt sighed. he did want to find the safe haven, and be reunited with his friends. he misses them all so much. and it pains him to think that they all believe he’s dead, when he isn’t.

but, he has no idea where it is. for all he knows, the safe haven could of moved away from a beach. like into the mountains. or into a city. newt and kira could just be going on a wild goose chase.

“don’t you want to see all the people you know? like your boyfriend.” she teased, causing newt to roll his eyes.

“he’s not my boyfriend. he’s just a close friend.” he snapped.

kira sat down again, her smile falling into an expression of seriousness.

“newt, you have a second chance of living. if i never found you, you would be dead right now. so, take this opportunity and come with me to find the safe haven. and live the life you are supposed to have. the life what your friends would want you to have.”

newt sat still, taking in her words. she was true. harsh, but true. he does have a second chance of living. and he shouldn’t waste it on thinking of the worse possible scenarios.

“okay.”

“wait really?!”

“yes,” he looked up, smiling, as he was suddenly overcome with a feeling of urgency.

“let’s go and find the safe haven, kira.”

————

a/n- thank you for reading chapter 1! it’s quite short, but hopefully as the story goes on the chapters will be longer :)

————

taglist-

@parkersbliss @liberty-barnes @harry-hollands @lookatallthosefandoms @venjicuddles @a-sarcastic-lil-shit @insonianna

[smortbokuto]

Guilt.

warnings: my shit writing, fluff?? angst to the fucking bones, major character death, mentions of death, implied cheating.

pairings: ushijima x oikawa, iwaizumi x oikawa.

a/n: enjoy my trash <3

summary: realizations always hits in the end yet hits hard. Oikawa regrets his actions and will keep regretting for his whole life..

word count: 3.6k

Sequel

❛19th January, 2023.❜

Key rattled in the keyhole as he turned them open, the voice a bit to loud for the mood. creaking the door open of his once shared apartment, with him. putting down the umbrella, which had frozen dews decorating its covers, he raided the area with tired eyes.

The windows, dusty and tainted, allowing slight light to bleed into the room, the dusty floor, marked with different stains, being illuminated. the couches covered with a pale cloth, preventing them from getting dirty. the shelf in the other corner were properly visible with spider webs all over. the rug, that was once sparkling clean now looked like had hardened mud and slit all over.

taking off his overcoat and hooking it over the rusty hooks embedded over the wall with torn off wallpapers just adjacent to the entry. nostalgia had hit him like a boulder falling over something much smaller and frail, completely crushing him as he saw all the unevenly hanging frames with them. smiling. happy.

why, why? why. why?! why??

padding into the room he scrunched his nose in frustration at the creaking sound of the wooden flooring. god, he was so used to the marble ones now. this was so annoying. so weird.

why was he even here? ah, in a week new residents will being coming here to start a new life. just like how they both had started 6 years ago...

'hope they don't end up like me' he made a mental note to wish the new family his best wishes for their journey they were going to go on.

sighing he strode towards the shelf. the lights flickered for a tad bit longer than they were supposed to. smoothly he started to pick up all the frames, empty, with photos (memories), or broken, and tossed them into the box he had brought along. what of he left them here? will the new family know about his sins of the past? he doesn't know.

moving further inside he kept picking up all the small items of misery (memories) and tossing them into the box. he wished them to burn to ashes. Oikawa just couldn't stand the pictures, the letters, the small items, gifts, souvenirs he had received by Iwaizumi in the past. with a white face he kept collecting all the stuff from room to room in a way to wipe away the remnants of the life they both had created.

cursing mentally as he stood in front of the last room, bedroom. a place where they shared everything, emotions, bodies, love, everything. entering the room he took a deep breath, eyes tight shut as he felt a suffocating gust hit his face. his breath hitched in his throat as he saw an all too familiar room. he could see his 'wasted' years in this room, doing everything and anything.

he worked upon collecting all the stuff he wanted to get rid of. he wanted to get rid of his existence. he was so close to it. he could start a new life. a free one. just a bit of fuel and a spark of flame.

after what felt like ages he felt content with the filled boxes with all the soon to be burned memories.

free? free. free!

a satisfied breath left his lungs, turning into a hazy white puff as it mixed into the chilly atmosphere of the room. the sun had already gone down with the rise of a crescent moon hanging in the sky with gloomy grey clouds. an indication to a snowy day that comes along.

snow?

his heart pang in the traps of his ribs at the thought.

┊a smiled crept on the shorter male's face, face flushed in soft hues of pink as he scrambled out from the warmth of the bed, dragging his feet towards the glass window that were draped with soft white silk curtains.

"Toru, wake up." he had called out to the sleeping male, curled up in the bed who just groaned at the call of his name.

"what is it?" voice raspy, he drawled out.

"it snowed! its so pretty outside." he chided, his morning voice heavy yet a hint of excitement laced with it. ┊

snow. his favorite time of the season. Iwaizumi's happy season.

clicking his tongue, that had the room echo with the voice he tried to forget the small memory he reminisced just now. distracting himself he looked around the room for the last time.

'nothing should be left behind..'

nodding to himself he stood up from the bed edge he had been sitting, leaving the room. once and for all.

free.

free?

his leg hit the nightside stand, the dusty lamp disbalancing and falling down. ignoring he broken pieces he picked up the head of the lamp to keep it back only for his eyes to get stuck at the small opening of the drawer.

nope.

opening the drawer slowly his eyes widened at the slightly stained hardcover diary comfortably lying caged in there.

he knows. he knows too well to not reach for it. to not open it. to not trace the pages with the tips of his fingers. to not read the date entry.

yet, he did it.

❝7th December, 2018.

today it snowed. it looked so ethereal outside. today is special for me. its the first time it snowed while my living with Toru. I wish to see more days like these with him.

-Hajime.❞

The first entry of the page.

"tsk, what's the point to write it down?" the brunette vocalized his thoughts. the thought of writing something so trivial sounded so stupid. why would he even to take the pain to write it all?

and so he flipped to the next page.

smoothing out the page he hummed as he felt Iwaizumi's clear writing under the cold touch of his fingers. so selfish.

he read all the pages. all the dates. all the events.

their first slow dance together in the dim living room on a summer evening, their first time on a rainy night, their first fight on a mid autumn season and how Hajime wished to fix it as soon as possible. everything was there in it.

it was always about them. never him alone. oikawa was always a spotlight.

humming in satisfaction that maybe, just maybe, he will be free. glad at the fact that iwaizumi didn't hold a grudge against him in any of these small snippets of life jotted down neatly in a captive of pale pages and hard covers.

pages fluttered as he flipped to another page. his brows furrowing as he found the page blank.

flip. then another and another and another. all of them were blank. pale and empty. his heart clenched and stung at the empty pages. it felt like a void of emotions. not his emotions but his long ago lovers'.

he flipped again, pupils dilating slightly as he saw a new date entry. but his stomach churned as he read the date.

❛11th September, 2020.❜

A whole year? from writing everyday, why was there a pause of a whole year? he flipped back to the previous empty pages. the pages weren't torn then why a year gap?

'unusual..'

but he shook away the feeling and flipped back to the new entry that he was yet to read.

❝I miss him... he has been working so much. i am happy that he is doing something he loves but its been long since we had done anything like we used to do...❞

a rush of guilt travelled through the span of his veins. he had fell out of love weeks before this new entry. but- did Iwaizumi knew about this fact?

┊8th July, 2020,

"will you tell him about us?" a gruff voice spoke, lying on the same comfort of bed that oikawa shared with iwaizumi. the respective owner of the voice stared up at the naked form of the brunette who was indulging himself in smoking and puffing out his lungs. a try to erase out the smell of sex? maybe.

"not yet..." oikawa slurred out as he puffed another heavy thick smoke into the traps of the four walled room "..he is too blind in love to even think about me doing such thing."

"you are not being fair with him." the voice spoke again after silence covered over the room.

"listen," he was pissed. oikawa was pissed at the accusation. he knew it was right, the accusation but he didn't want to accept that. the fact that he had fell out of love. "it's literally my life and my lover, i don't need your opinion about it, Ushijima."┊

guilt filled his system at the thought about how sick and vile his move was against someone who loved him unconditionally.

if only he had tried harder. harder to be a better person, a better partner and a better human. but he didn't. pathetic.

feeling the guilt pump up in him he flipped the page again. empty, blank, pale pages. again.

❝17th November, 2020.

Its still the same... he returns late home. we don't eat our meals together, our talks are short and have no emotions that it used to carry. i miss it. i miss it all. i will wait.❞

"why? what the fuck are you trying to do here. Hajime? are you trying to give me a guilt trip?" he voiced his deafening thoughts. how selfish of Iwaizumi to take such a step against him. his own lover.

"its working. so stop..." his voice wavered. was he really qualified enough to be labeled as a 'lover' for Hajime? after what all he had done to the other man he deserved it.

"stop. I don't deserve it." he does. he does deserve it. he knows it too well.

he flipped. then flipped. sobs raked his body as he read all the different dates all throughout the winter season of that dreaded years, 2020. he read Iwaizumi's thought, insecurities on maybe he was not good enough for Oikawa and how maybe he was done with him but staying with him out of pity.

He flipped to the page where an all too familiar date was jotted down. He remembers everything. every action he had taken that might have ruined iwaizumi bit by bit.

┊9th April, 2021.

the keys jingled as they clashed with the glass key holder in the porch area. the brunette ran his fingers through his hair and sighed out tiredly. 'work' was exhausting.

"hey." a low voice greeted him at the end of the hallway.

"hi, have you eaten?" oikawa replied back as fast as possible not wanting to hear any questions from the man standing in front of him, arms crossed over his chest.

"he shorted man shook his head. "i was waiting for you."

"i was out with my friend after practice, we have already eaten. you should eat too." he didn't know the heaviness of the words he had thrown on the other male.

"oh, that's fine." Iwaizumi smiled as he tried to take in and digest whatever was thrown over him by the taller male. "by the way, i got a present for you. it's kept in the bedroom."

"present for what? what's the occasion?" oikawa was quick to whip his head to the direction of the other male, who had his back turned at him as he fumbled around the kitchen.

there was a silence, an awkward and a heavy one.

Oikawa, now anxious, took a step forward "hey, ushijim- Hajime, what's the present for?" shit. shit for fuck sake he messed up.

"hm? what?" displaying an act of not catching he turned to face oikawa, the soft smile never faltering his features.

oikawa was quick to repeat the question. to which iwaizumi casually told him it was their anniversary.

"it's okay, you have been working a lot." he had stated.┊

maybe if Oikawa was true to the man. maybe if he had tried harder to love him more and in a correct manner he wouldn't be reading this. maybe if he had given iwaizumi what he had deserved.

❝9th April, 2021.

oh, i was right... it hurts to know i was not good enough but maybe i deserved it. i hope he is happy with this other guy he is with.❞

his heart dropped to his stomach. why was he accepting that? he knew when he had uttered out that other mans' name then why didn't he confront? why did he stay quiet? why didn't he ask him to leave?

why? why? why? why?!

and then no answer to these why's.

his body went numb at how blindly Iwaizumi stood there for him even knowing he was an option. second one.

flip.

flip.

flip.

he sobbed more as he kept tuning the pages. few pale blank empty and few with dates and entries were he was not good enough for oikawa and he could have been better.

"Its not your fault. its not. stop!" finally breaking down he sobbed into the diary, staining the pages with his tears.

❝19th July, 2021.

i was... diagnosed. glioblastoma (GBM). it was undiagnosed all this time and... how will i tell this to Toru?❞

"why?! why are you still thinking about me??? you were-" too much. thats the right word for what he was feeling at the moment. how could he still love him and think about him even though he was practically dying? just why?

all the memories flooded in. all the years of time they took to build a loving relationship only for oikawa to burn it down in one day, over a fucked up reason.

it could have been so easy if iwaizumi had confronted and cut ties then and there only. he was being selfish.

there was a strong urge to just burn the diary there only and act like it all never happened. it was so easy to do it.

but,

can he really do it?

no, he is ought to drown in all the pending guilt and regrets that had been filling up all his holes, draining into his system till it was overflowing. he has to suffer.

he flipped yet another page.

❝27th August, 2021.

i have regrets. i don't want to carry them with me to a new journey. I wanted to love oikawa the way he deserved. i wanted to be him only. its selfish, i know. i was supposed to propose him on our anniversary. i was supposed to care for him and grow old and gray with him. it was all about him. it will always be about him. i love you Toru... i always will. i will be leaving soon. i want to watch you from the sidelines but i can't, not anymore. i will look at you and cheer for you still. be happy, okay?❞

was this really how it was supposed to end?

"why? why didn't you ever tell me about this?" his breath came out ragged and labored. it didn't matter right now.

❝16th September, 2021.

i still love you but i can't burden you with what i am going through not when you are finally happy. i happy that you can confine in someone now. i love you and i always will.❞

those were just mere words written over dead pages by someone that didn't exist. not anymore. then why was it affecting so much? why did it feel like all the words were the boulders that kept stacking on and on over Oikawa's lean body?

there were so many whys and no one to answer...

his last memory flashed before his red puffy eyes.

┊18th September, 2021.

the balls smashed hard against the gym floors. sneakers squeaking against the polished floors.

hair hanging over his forehead oikawa flopped down on the floor. leaning back on one arm as he sipped harshly through his bottle. he let out a satisfied hum as his thirst was satiated only to stop mid tracks as he heard a muffled vibration coming from his bag flopped beside him.

rummaging and fishing the phone out as easy as any other task but when he saw the familiar number flash he was hesitant. nonetheless he answered only for his throat to go parch at the not so familiar voice reporting something he could never imagine of.

"you were on Mr. Iwaizumi's contact. he is in emergency right now. he had collapsed during his regular visit here so please come here as soon as possible." the line was dead then.

hastily packing his stuff he ran out the doors and reached his car. his mind running miles per hour. questions filling his head up to a level where it was hard to breathe.

reaching there he grimaced as the smell of countless death and sterile filled his senses.

"are you Mr. Oikawa?" the voice came up from behind as he was filling up his entry at the reception. whipping his head back he met a man, much older than him, in white coat who looked concerned and... sorry?

"yes. yes i am. what happened?!" he trailed behind the doctor like any lost puppy would do with a stranger who was friendly enough to pet it only to get kicked in the guts.

the doctor stopped after few rooms passed. sighing he removed his glasses and hung them over his chest pockets giving it a company with two pens that were sitting comfortably in it. "he is, uh, critical. he used to come here for treatment due to his frequent headaches. today was different. he collapsed while we were going through some tests. looking into it, there are multiple organ failure right now. not much is left for him." it felt like the world has come to an end. the floor beneath hem felt like it had moved, eating him alive.

pushing past the doctor he entered the room. eyes blowing up at the view he was welcomed to. a man, so strong and healthy, tied to all sorts of machines, a tube, a mere fucking tube, helping him breathe.

"Ha- Hajime...." he could only whisper out softly. but only to response.

he looked so pale, so lifeless, his heart barely even doing its only job. it was cold to touch him, the normal warmth was not there anymore. even after trying to warm up his hand he couldn't bring the missing warmth back again. not anymore.

"please- please tell me what happened.."

there was a heavy silent. a deafening one. nothing was audible other than the faint beeps and slowed breathing of the man on the cold bed of the hospital.

he was not going to leave like this. he is not that pathetic and weak to just die on his lover. not before he could tell him he loved him and he always will. no matter what.

but?

he can't speak.

now what? love is something that doesn't need to be conveyed through words.

his cold thumb brushed over the warm knuckles of the man standing beside him. he looked like he was falling apart. oikawa's brown warm gaze widened as he looked down at iwaizumi. he looked like he was taking his last breath. he looked like he was ready to start a new journey. he looked happy. his eyes showed nothing but love. it kept showing love as his eyes dilated and stilled. the touch still reflected love even if it went limp and cold.┊

another sob. then another and another and another. he sobbed there. curling into himself. all the tears tasted like guilt and regret. none of them were salty.

"why did you tell the doc to not tell me about the disease???" he cried out. his lungs burned. they begged him to breathe but he couldn't.

regrets were there. guilt was there.

"i am sorry i was so selfish."

he thought he could be free of them. he was tied down. forever. no matter what.

maybe if he loved him properly. maybe if he loved him the way he deserved.

maybe if he loved the man named Iwaizumi Hajime.

too late.

[whump-town]

In The Blood

I was going to post it all in one go and then I thought about it and I was like... you know, if @masterwords did it in two parts maybe I should too. Because I really got to thinking and hey, waiting for that part two HURT. So, I gonna do it too.

Based off an anon’s ask, Unsub kidnaps Hotch to get back at Rossi.

Warning: torture, blood, and angst

Part One

For as long as David Rossi has known Aaron Hotchner, he’s always been a little perplexed about tackling the problem of his handwriting. The kind is as sharp as a tack, that’s undeniable. His profiling skills were unmatched in the academy and what he lacked in extroversion, he made up with in charisma. From the very moment, he met the kid Dave has had nothing but aspirations for the great things he could do. For the things, he would do.

Now, some two decades after he’d rubbed the back of his sick future prodigy, shaking his head in sympathy, he’s sitting at his own desk. A senior agent that shares a wall with that old prodigy, now a unit chief whose puking at crime scenes days have long since passed. But something much worse lurks in his future and his present.

“Hey,” JJ knocks on Dave’s doorframe, smiling. She steps in without him having to say a thing, in her hand is mail. “Downstairs called me,” she tells him, handing him the envelope. “You got some mail and I guess they weren’t sure if they should send it up.” They both know exactly why downstairs called. The sexist bastard treats her like Hotch and Dave’s receptionist. Despite both men having stern, if not borderline unkind, words with them on the matter.

He frowns but takes it from her. “You shouldn’t have had to do that,” he mumbles, glancing at his name on the envelope and reaching for his letter opener with a sigh. “I’ll say something to them,” he promises, sliding the metal through the paper and ripping it open in one clean slice.

“You really don’t have to.”

As he pulls the letter out he stops. His eyes scan over the paper, frowning as he takes in exactly what it is that he’s seeing. “JJ,” he says, removing his left hand from the paper but keeping his thumb and pointer finger on it. “I need you to get someone up here,” he says calmly. There’s a fine layer of grim on the paper. Dirt and, the worst part, blood. Thick droplets that have nearly eaten through the paper. More identifiable than all of that? Hotch’s thin, chicken scratch handwriting.

“Why?” she asks, stepping around his desk to look. She takes the letter in slowly, breath hissing in a shocked inhale. “That’s--”

Jason and Dave could never read his damn handwriting. It’s illegible and made significantly worse by the fact that his palm smears the writing. When Derek and Hotch had confronted Jason about hiring some diversity (the bullpen had way too much testosterone and they really needed a woman on the team), they hadn’t had a type in mind. Hell, hiring Garcia had been an “on a whim” sort of thing (Jason’s exact had been “whatever you think is best”). JJ’s best feature? She’d glanced at the note Hotch had left for Gideon and read it without a problem. Like it was easy.

Now, standing over Dave’s shoulder, stomach twisting sickly, she scans over his shaky lettering. Breath catching as she reads things she… It’s horrific to watch pictures line themselves up on the screen, Garcia turning her head from them as she explains what they can all see but to read it. To have to stand here and read horrific things someone has done to someone you love. To a friend, in their own writing, it’s…

“What do we do?” she asks softly.

Dave wishes he couldn’t make out a single line of writing. As selfish as the notion is, he needs ignorance.

The line that he can’t get out of his head? “I am so sorry, Dave.”

Morgan waste no haste in making himself the leading agent. Which is no real problem because Dave has no interest in taking charge of this situation. He just wants to hold onto his letter, the only connection he has to Hotch right now.

How had they not noticed he was gone?

“I should have known something was wrong.” The admission takes them all by surprise, mostly because it leaves Emily’s mouth with such conviction that no one’s really sure what to say. They aren’t given the chance as she tucks her arms around her chest and shakes her head at herself. “I knew something was wrong when Foyet attacked him,” she observes. “I should have known this time.”

But… how could she? This time was different.

Jack is away with Jessica. Spending time with his cousin because Hotch secretly fears that the boy spending too much time with him will spell nothing but misfortune for his future. Which is simply not true. Hotch has taught that child grace that none of them have ever seen in a child. He’s too much like Hotch but not in bad ways. In his ghost-like gait. Never making a sound as he moves. While it surely isn’t genetic, he’d acquired his father’s silent intuition and those softly pained brown eyes.

But, perhaps, that is what Hotch fears.

That fear has cost them days. Now, they can not measure how long Hotch has been held captive wherever he is. Has he been gone since last Thursday? Taken from the office or from his home? Jack had already taken off with Jessica, gone to spend time with his cousins. Had it been Saturday morning while he was out for his morning jog? After coffee Sunday when he was getting lost in the bookstore in town?

No one knows.

How could they?

“His pills,” Dave mumbles. He stands from his chair, frowning as his brain races. “On his counter,” the information is coming too quickly. “For his birthday five years ago Emily got him a pill sorter.” Hotch hadn’t found it very funny (he’d pretended not to) but Emily had beamed at him. Very proud of herself and her old man gifts. “One of the ones that label Sunday to Saturday-- each day.”

It had been both a gag gift and one of purpose. Foyet’s attack had left its damage, physical and mental. He’d had a bag full of medications to take home from the hospital. Some angiotensin prescription for his kidneys, an anticlotting/blood-thinning agent for the ruined veins in his chest, and a few more Dave can’t even remember. Never mind the fist full of medications he’d been on since about twenty for mental disorders that had never officially been written down as diagnoses to allow him to keep his job.

The point is-- if Hotch was on top of himself about his medication, they can get a rough estimate of how long he’s been gone.

It’s a great idea…

“What if he…” Emily goes with Dave to check Hotch’s house. They both have keys and it’s unspoken that if Hotch were here he’d certainly prefer it be the two of them rooting around his things. Besides, they know how he is and they know what to expect the second they walk in.

They also know that as good as Dave’s idea is, there’s a silent fear shared between them that he hasn’t been on top of his health. It happens occasionally but mostly around the dates of Foyet’s attack. Still, not taking those medications and being gone for over four days is going to be some really unfortunate things for Hotch. Withdrawals, mostly, but scarier than that? Without the blood thinners, there’s a possibility of a stroke.

“He’ll be fine,” Dave mumbles, slipping his key into the lock of the door. Pushing the door open, Dave steps into the house. Hotch’s car wasn’t in the driveway which tells them a minimal amount of information but will give Garcia’s something to run with. Right now they need to focus on their task.

The house is cool and dark, the curtains in the living room drawn completely shut. If Jack isn’t home Hotch prefers the darkness, despite the strain it puts on his eyes. Stepping in, neither bother to turn on the lights. The sun peaks just barely through the thin curtains and, if they’re being honest, they don’t want to break the illusion both have created in their minds.

That Hotch is merely sleeping.

His phone is on silent.

He’s sleeping.

The notion is strong enough to make Emily hesitates as she stands outside his bedroom door.

She’s only been in his room twice. The first time to soothe his broken screams, waking him from yet another nightmare that threatened to consume him. He’d clung to her, sobbing into the old fabric of the shirt he’d given her to sleep in. She’d slept right there with him.

The second time came only a month after Haley’s funeral. He’d smelled like he’d consumed a small brewery but she’d still tucked his comforter around him. Placing Advil and a glass of water on his nightstand for when he woke up. Even getting the trashcan out to place by the side of his bed.

He trusts her.

Closing her eyes, she opens the door, and her illusion is broken. He’s not in bed.

His bed isn’t made, which makes her smile sadly. For such a literal suit and tie man, he’s got some strange habits. One of which is that he doesn’t make his bed. It’s cute, adds character. She doesn’t get the chance to dwell on that for too long. There are more pressing matters to deal with.

Stepping in she rolls her eyes at the pair of boxers he’s got thrown up onto his dresser, his nightstand drawer open where he must have rummaged for something-- she’s guessing the Advil bottle laying on its side. There’s a book on the other half of his bed, open and print down, his reading glasses on the cover. The sight, of which, would have Reid gasping in horror.

She heads in, deeper, headed towards the bathroom attached to his room. There she doesn’t find what she’s looking for. His pills are nowhere in sight but it’s worth her little trip down here.

“Find them,” she asks, coming back to the kitchen.

Dave nods and slides the box to her, allowing her to make her own observations as he continues to talk on the phone.

Wednesday is the last tab open. He hasn’t had any medicine since Thursday. He was at work Thursday when JJ left, the second to last out. She’d stopped in to talk to him about a formality from their last case. Essentially, things are not looking good.

“We’ll find him,” Emily mumbles. She flicks mindlessly at the tab of the organizer and looks up at Dave. “We will, right?”

Dave shrugs. He doesn’t know.

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

Head hanging between his knees, Hotch leans his temple against his bare knee. Sweat mixes with the dirty water dripping from the roof of the old cellar, it’s hard to tell which is running down his face. He’s stripped to his boxers, left to shiver and suffer through the elements. The cement floor and rock walls sapping what little heat his body can properly offer him.

By now, his letter should have arrived to Dave. That is if he can trust a word the Unsub has said to him thus far. That this whole mess-- mess as if disconnecting them both from his actions-- has nothing to do with Hotch. The Unsub had lifted Hotch’s head, forcing Hotch to look at him, with the edge of a knife.

“This,” he’d sneered, “is about what David Rossi took from me. He took my son and now--” He’d dragged that knife against Hotch’s cheek, almost stroking. “Now, I’m going to take his away from him.”

Nothing personal, the Unsub had promised.

It had felt personal.

A baseball bat coming down over his body, ignoring his pained cried. Not relenting when his arm had broken with a snap, Hotch’s cry rasping as he’d writhed and tried to twist and pull the limb away from the attention of that bat. Only to expose his sides and have the air forced from his body. He hadn’t stopped when Hotch no longer cried out. Going on long after Hotch lay still, breathing a wet rasping, and head rolled to the side to show the whites of his eyes.

Hotch had awoken to a harsh push. Pulled upright by two arms scooping up under his arms and forcing him upright. He couldn’t help the rasped, confused cry he’d let out as his broken arm was pulled up, the pen placed into his palm. “Write.”

He’d blinked blood from his eyes as he slurred out a question. He can’t even remember what it’d been.

“You’re telling David Rossi that it’s going to be his fault when your body shows up on his doorstep.” The Unsub had smiled, running a finger along Hotch’s jaw. “Tell him what I did to you. That you hate him.”

Hotch’s breathing had hitched in his chest. He looked back down at the paper. “I don’t,” he’d slurred and hadn’t even had time to think before his head was roughly pushed into the hard rock wall beside him. Hotch’s eyes had rolled into his head, boding seizing up, and a weak pained sob tearing from his mouth before his eyes had rolled into his back, and he’d gone limp.

Three.

He took three beatings before he caved. Pen to the paper he’d bleed and cried the whole way. Shaking and only half cognizant of himself and his actions. Hopeful his awful handwriting and probable brain damage made his words eligible. That way Dave and no doubt the others might be spared his rampant thoughts.

They hadn’t.

With a crack, the wooden door of the cellar opens and Hotch flinches raising his left hand to protect his eyes from the light that comes in.

“Aaron?”

Hotch pushes himself away from the Unsub. Moving until his back hits the opposite wall. “Please,” he whimpers.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” the Unsub promises. He crouches down, squatting. “It’s over,” he whispers. “Just come with me now, son. This last part is going to be fast but it won’t hurt.”

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

Hotch had gone missing Friday.

Garcia found his car and the tickets it had wracked up in his absence. Right outside the little book shop, he frequents on days off or in-between breaks. Quant and warm. Garcia had watched him take a seat by a window, tears streaming down her face as he opened his book and sipped his coffee. Would this be the last time she ever saw him?

Dave had found a similar solace in the recording. Some street camera that caught the moment.

They’d all stood and watched, transfixed as Hotch finally left that coffee shop. They knew what was going to happen next but they still weren’t ready. A figure came out of nowhere, aiming something low to Hotch’s abdomen whatever was said between the two of them stopped Hotch from moving. He nodded, once and followed the other man.

Then he was gone.

All they have is the letter.

JJ shakes as she reads the words on the page. It’s hard to tell which parts are worse. Hotch’s nonsense rambles, his fragmented thoughts that hardly sound like him at all. The descriptions that he does his best to throw in. Wet, damp, and cold. He doesn’t know where he is just that he’s in pain. His hand trembles too much during certain parts and she can’t even make out the letters. Tears rip and obscure other words. It breaks her heart to think of what he must be going through.

“He’s standing over my shoulder as I write this. Watching me. Three times I have failed to put this off. Three times he has beaten me for my refusal. As he hits me he tells me this is your fault. That it’s as simple as an eye for an eye. You killed his son and he’s getting even. I’m afraid that I’m starting to believe him.”

“He doesn’t mean it,” Derek assures Dave. But Dave isn’t even paying mind to that particular comment. Hotch can hate Dave until one of them dies for all Dave cares but Dave’s going to bring him home. No matter what. What’s bothering him is the statement about Dave killing someone’s son. He’s had to kill many Unsubs over the years.

JJ can’t force herself to continue to voice his words, her scanning the paper as tears make their slow descend across her cheeks. He writes something of Jack, the pen drags and she can’t make out the words just “sorry”, “better father”, and “love”.

When she gives it to Reid, allowing him to make his own inferences (and search for a message in Hotch’s madness that isn’t there) she has to leave the room. Head bowed and heart thundering, she allows her legs to move on command, and before she knows it--

The room smells like Hotch. Rough undertones of mildew, the room’s old and the carpet even older, but Hotch. Moving with a slowness she can’t explain, she pulls in every piece of him she can find in here. Closing her eyes so she can imagine he’s sitting behind that old desk, scribbling away at files. Until she’s standing at the couch. Without a second thought, she climbs onto the stiff thing. Pressing her face into the cushions and pulling the spare blanket he keeps across the back over herself.

What would he say if he saw her now?

He’s unpredictably predictable. Empathy or strength? He’d always had this innate ability to fathom both at any moment. She’d loved that about him. Love, reminds herself. She loves that about him. He’s not gone yet.

“Are you okay?” Reid’s hesitantly standing in the doorway.

From the couch, she can see the twinkle of tears in his eyes. With a smile, she opens the blanket and invites him in. “Come on,” she offers, scooting over just a little bit more. “It’s not like Hotch is here to fuss at us for a little nap.”

Reid looks over his shoulder and comes into the room, pausing as he looks over at Hotch’s desk. “I miss him,” he confesses softly, sitting down on the edge of the couch. He doesn’t say anything JJ scoots up, placing her head on his lap. He pulls some of the blanket to his own lap.

“Me too,” JJ mumbles.

It’s only been a few days. He’s been gone weeks on leave. After Foyet, he was gone an entire month. Then, at least, they could swing by his apartment with pizza or Chinese food and he’d let them in with a tired smile. Softly admonishing them for being there when they should be at home getting some rest. But he’d been there. Readily available for a quick hug or to let them take his couch hostage to spend time with him.

“We’re going to…” Reid’s voice dies out as he second-guesses his question. “He’s going to come back, right?”

JJ closes her eyes.

Her reply never comes.

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

“Hello?” Dave is heading out to get some fresh air, very aware of the tail he’s accumulated along the way. Emily won’t let him out of her sight but this time it’s Derek’s doing that has her coming along. He doesn’t mind. When he gets the call he doesn’t even break stride.

“David Rossi.”

His pace comes to a dead stop.

Emily, a few feet behind sees.

“You son of a bitch--”

“Now, now,” the Unsub mumbles tsking. “Don’t be like that David. Don’t act like I’m the only bad guy here. Besides, we don’t need poor Aaron hearing language like that.”

Dave glances over his shoulder, spotting Emily and her timid, if not fearful, walk up to him. “What do you want?” Dave asks.

The Unsub chuckles, “you already know, David. Eye for an eye. You took what was mine and now--”

Dave closes his eyes at the sound of a whimper, Aaron.

“Now, I’m going to take what is yours.”

With a shake of his head, Dave says, “he’s not mine! He’s just a colleague. A friend!”

The Unsub hums sadly. “David,” he chides, “don’t lie to me. I watched you. His son comes to your house nearly every weekend. You love him. Tell him.” Hotch cries out in pain, the phone held now to his face as the Unsub grips his hair to keep his head tilted up. “Tell him, David. Tell him that he’s nothing more than a colleague.”

Dave shuts his eyes flinching as his words are repeated to Hotch. Shaking with fury when he can hear those words being used against them both. Drawing whimpers and a single breathless plea from Hotch for the Unsub to stop. “Please stop. Please, just stop.”

“Tell him, David!”

Dave turns his head, finding Emily and her wide sad eyes.

“Aaron?”

“Dave?”

“Hey, son.”

“Dave… he--he’s going to kill me.”

A tear falls down Dave’s cheek. Looking at Emily, he can tell she can hear them. “I’m so sorry, Aaron.”

A sharp cry breaks through the other line. Pained. Strained. Hotch’s plea-- “no! Please!”-- cut off by a sharp crack. Then nothing.

“Please,” Dave grips the phone tight. “He’s got a little boy,” Dave knows he’s playing with nothing here but he has to do something. “His name is Jack, he’s only eight. Aaron, he-- Aaron has to take medicine, already! Please! He’s on blood thinners! You’ll kill him--”

The Unsubs comes back, breathless, and scoffs. “That’s the point David. I’ll talk to you soon.” The line goes dead.

Dave throws his phone to the ground with a shout. “Fuck!” He falls to his knees, head in his hands.

Aaron Hotchner is going to die and it’s going to be his fault.

[nota-deviant]

Chapter 1

Dib sighed as he looked down at the shiny bar he had just wiped clean. Another day another..well..day. nothing much happened in his town, nothing that he had been able to look for at least. Dib basically lived in his bar, working under his father who was barely ever there and always working on new drinks to 'help people' or he's made up something and grew too sick to even come and bartend in his own saloon. 

He set the raggedy old cloth down onto the table and grumbled, resting his head on his hand before quickly sitting up when the first people started coming in. The saloon usually was filled to the brim with gruff looking men trying to act tough and gambling all their money away in games of poker, Dib was the only one that stood out. He was tall and lanky, having not grown any hair on his face and instead having Carmel colored freckles splattered around. He was in his mid 20s and felt like he was wasting his life away, serving drinks and every once and awhile hooking up with a guy or gal for the night. Today had seemed like a slow one, what Dib wasn't prepared for was the sight of a short yet bulky looking creature walking in. He said nothing, glancing up from his spot sorting drinks and could make out dark green skin in the room with splotches of lighter green on his face..like Dibs own freckles. He looked quickly back down again when more people walked in, standing when he heard the squeak of the cushioned barstool Inferno of him. He was going to have to oil that later.

Dib stood and suddenly he had made eye contact with the creature, long locks of black hair reaching down to his chin and wearing, atleast what Dib thought, a hideous magenta vest with a dark grey dress shirt underneath.

"How may I help you?"

Dib asked casually, keeping eye contact with the other and examining the brief sight of sharp teeth when the other spoke

"A shot of whiskey- actually make it a bottle, today has been rough"

Dib chuckled and crouched down, grabbing a bottle and speaking

"The day has just started, you must be a busy man"

"You could say that"

Dib cracked a smile at the vague comment, crouching down to grab bottles and letting hid mind race. It was quite boring where he worked besides some bar fights here and there, so Dib took this as an opportunity to solve a mystery and maybe put some excitement into his life. The man stood back up and set down the green glass bottle in front of the stranger, leaning against the counter as they grabbed it and popped open the top

"So stranger, I've never seen you before"

Dib took note of stray people walking in and immediately walking out after seeing the green skinned weirdo

"I tend to keep a low profile, but I'm sure you've heard my name before"

They said, holding out the bottle in a majestic pose

"Mmmm...jog my memory would you?"

Dib couldn't help but hold in a chuckled at the disappointed look on the others face

"I'll have you know that I'm one of the most well known Mafia bosses around"

That sparked Dibs memory

"Well that seemed to get a reaction out of you"

Zim grinned and took another chug of his bottle, staring at Dibs dumbfounded face in amusement

"Zim Ira? In my bar?"

Dib laughed and held his head. It wasn't exactly a mystery he could solve but it was good enough

"You've got to be kidding me"

"I'm not!-"

"I mean I knew people admired his work but to go this far?"

"Would you shut up!-"

"The ugly suit too"

Dib was about to comment again but stopped at the sound of glass breaking, whiskey spilling on the floor and the scarce people in the room looking over to the bar

"I told you to shut up boy"

A broken glass bottle was held up to Dibs face, the broken glass tip barely touching his nose as Zim glared at him

"Now get me another whiskey bottle before I get it myself and use your skull as a cup"

Dib nodded timidly and picked up another bottle, setting it down and getting the cap thrown at his glasses. They hung off his nose for a second before being pushed back up

"You-"

"Don't talk human, I don't want to be burdened by your pathetic noises"

Dib shut up and looked to the side, trying to bring his focus onto something..literally anything. He soon brought his eyes back to Zim. The man was about average height, maybe a little taller. He could see the freckles on his skin more clearly now and noticed that they weren’t just one shade of green but different shades both darker and lighter than his base shade. His hair was shiny and looked unnaturally oily, a wig perhaps? That left Dib to wonder what was underneath it. A bare head? Antenna? Horns?

"Quit your staring"

Dib was snapped out of his thoughts and looked back to Zims eyes. They were a light yellow with a light shade of pink underneath. The iris was a purple color..unique for anyone and something he hadn't seen before

"Oh uh...sorry"

Dib apologized, averting his eyes and looking down at the bar. He'd clean it if it weren't for the fact he could already see his reflection in the mahogany surface. What was he supposed to do now?

"Listen this is my bar and you're-"

A finger pressed against Dibs lips, a clawed one he noted, and he grumbled. Zim was about to say something but the doors opened and a high voice squealed

"Zim!"

A silver haird boy looking to be about 12 to 14 ran over and hugged the man

"Gir! You're not allowed to be in here!"

Zim pushed the boy away but they only persisted. Their clothing looked about the same as the Mafia bosses except the vest was a silver instead of a ugly dark magenta

"Oh is this your brother?"

Dib teased, Zim hissing and picking up the boy

"Go stand outside Gir now"

"But Tak said she wanted to see you!"

Dib took note of how Zik froze and composed himself, clearing his throat and narrowing his eyes at Dib

"Put it on a tab"

He ordered before taking the younger hand gently and walking him out of the bar

(I've never wrote something completely on my own before so be nice to me please🤲)

[teaspoon-full-of-sugar]

kissed by mist and can dew attitude

pairing: harry styles x reader (farmers market au)

warnings: awkwardness!! shy!baker!harry, mentions of the qu*rantine, drug use, harry's chest hair, giggly, sweet high sex, some dirty talk :) unprotected sex

word count: 3.4k

synopsis: harry is an idiot, and y/n is a bit of a tease

author’s note: you can read this for a little background to this au (but it’s not really necessary; i tend to over explain things anyway, so you can get a pretty good understanding just from this) literally no one asked for this, but market season is coming up again, and i missed writing about these two :( hope you enjoy! xx

masterlist

—

Harry is so tired of being cooped up in this house.

Don’t get him wrong, he loves staying home.

He is normally the introvert that puts all other introverts to shame. He loves staying at home, he loves hiding away after a stressful day at work, he goes out of his way to not talk to anyone while he’s out, and he very rarely ever goes out on the weekends. He loves just being able to stay at home, relax, and not worry about anyone bothering him.

But, at a certain point, it becomes too much; now, he just wants to get out, go for a walk, go to the grocery store, talk to someone other than Y/N, just do something, anything, other than staying at home. Yes, it’s for a good reason, and he doesn’t want to be responsible for the illness spreading, but it’s also straining on his mental, physical, and financial health.

He honestly wants to go back to work.

Since this entire situation started, Harry has only had a couple of shifts at The Sweet Spot, since, apparently, cafes are “essential businesses”, but the nutrition store next door isn’t (the world definitely has their priorities straight). Honestly, it was kind of nice; he didn’t have to schmooze any customers, since he only saw the delivery drivers. There was the occasional ignorant person who would come up to the doors and pull on them, despite the very clear signs saying that they were not open to the public, only to find them locked, and Harry very happily told them to go away.

However, Marty couldn’t afford to have him take up any more shifts, which he completely understands, so he’s been stuck home for weeks.

Needless to say, both he and Y/N have been getting a little stir crazy.

They tried to keep a somewhat healthy lifestyle in the beginning, hiking the nearby trails or walking at the park, but everything started to become too crowded. They even went cycling, but Harry proved to be even more of a klutz on a bike than on his own two feet, resulting in a bump on his head and a scraped elbow, which is still healing beneath a floral printed plaster.

Y/N’s had some failed experiments, leading to several four-hour kitchen clean-ups, and she also started a “Fermentation Station”, with dozens of glass jars filled with fermenting fruits and teas, the smell of yeast strong in the air. She was so proud of herself the first time she made carbonated water from things they already had in the house (“Look, Harry, it’s so convenient”). She ended up adding more and more things to her collection. They argued about it for a couple of days before she finally settled and moved her jars to the back porch after the kitchen started smelling like alcohol.

While Y/N has her experiments, Harry stress-bakes. He can’t even count how many loaves of bread, fruit pastries, cookies, and cakes he has made. He made crepes using sourdough starter. That’s how bored he’s been. He waited five whole days for his starter to mature, just to make four crepes between himself and Y/N.

But, there’s only so many things to do before you’ve completely run out of ideas.

On this particularly boring day, it’s two in the afternoon before they finally get out of bed, no thanks to their terrible sleep schedules, and they move onto the couch, which is officially broken in after how many hours they’ve spent on it. It’s sunny outside, bright and warm, the bright light beaming through the large bay windows in the living room, making staying inside even worse.

Y/N convinces him to paint his fingernails (and not just his toenails), and he happily indulges her. It’s nice feeling pampered for once, and whenever Y/N gets into her let’s-have-a-spa-day moods, she goes all out. While his toenails, painted with a pretty green color called Can Dew Attitude and a shimmery top coat on them, dried, she put some all-natural mud mask on his face, that bubbled and seeped into his skin.

“This is great for your pores,” she says as she puts a lukewarm cloth on his mask. “Not that you have bad skin. It’s better than mine, you ass.”

He just smiles, feeling the clay crack, and leans into her touch. She’s gentle, waiting until most of it is soft and pliable before she wipes it away. As she dries his face, with a towelette that smells like lavender and honey, his freshened skin, flushed and smooth, glows in the afternoon sun, his pretty eyes magnified behind a pair of thick, black framed glasses. Y/N sits across from him, her leg tucked up underneath her with his hand steady on her knee.

“It’s not gonna, like,” he pauses, glancing warily at his nails, “poison you or anything, right?”

“What?” She laughs, putting an oil around his cuticles. He leans forward, watching her carefully. He readjusts the headband, inadvertently pushing it back a little too far, until some curls slip onto his forehead. She hits the bottle of Kissed by Mist against her palm, the pale pink polish making a nice ticking sound. She starts on his nails, but not before making a comment about how cute his little pinkie is, which makes him flustered.

“It’s not gonna poison you when I, ya know, like… when I…”

He motions with his free hand, grouping his ring and middle fingers together and curling them, and he bites on his cheek, brows furrowed, trying to see any changes in her expression. He stops and shakes his head, a frail blush creeping up to his ears.

“By the way you’re reacting, ‘m assuming it’s not a thing,” he sighs.

“No, the polish will not poison me when you finger—“

“Shh,” he hushes her, pressing his hand against her lips. She pushes him away.

“Harry, we are the only ones here,” she says, finishing his right hand.

“Ya know what that mouth does to me,” he mutters.

“Really? You get turned on when I say, ‘finger me’?”

“Ya know I do,” he pouts, grappling for her. His hands twist the thick cotton of her jumper for only a second before she’s scooting away, swatting at him.

“No, H, your nails are still wet,” she says, and he groans, sinking back into the couch cushions.

“So bored.”

“Everyone is,” she says, filing down his left thumb nail.

“Wanna get high?”

He just wants to stop this feeling of absolute boredom. It’s better since Y/N is here with him, but it’s getting to a certain point where he’s willing to do just about anything to feel, well, anything.

One night, they tried her “prison wine”, which was just cranberry cocktail and yeast that fermented for a couple of days; it tasted worse than it sounds. It did, however, get them very drunk, and they woke up the next morning with pounding headaches, upset stomach, and purple stained lips. It was honestly the worst hangover he’s ever had, and he vowed to never try it again.

Getting stoned has then become a regular thing. On those horribly boring nights where they had absolutely nothing to do, where they’ve both been on the couch for hours, not being able to find the willpower to move, and on those nights where they just wanted to feel and simply be elsewhere, they found solace in the warming daze.

She grins.

“Sure, I think we still have some gummies,” she says, moving toward their “special” drawer in the side table.

“Only a half this time, lovie,” he says as she turns back, and she rolls her eyes.

“They were a lot stronger than the other ones,” she says, ripping the poorly stuck tape from the plastic packaging.

“I know,” he smiles, popping the candy in his mouth. She sits back down beside him, her leg thrown over his lap. He moves his hand dangerously close to her inner thigh, his fingers dancing along the length of her thigh until they reach the hem of her panties, tugging at the material until it snaps back. He’s so close to feeling her warmth, if only he moves just a little further, but she yanks his hand back, puts it on her knee, and gives him a smug little smile, continuing her work.

It takes an hour, or two more coats of nail polish, for the edibles to kick in, but when they do, Harry thinks he pissed himself. Forgetting about Y/N’s leg across his lap, he mistakes her warmth as pee, and he jerks up, jolting her. She looks up at him, blinking. There’s a strip of white polish on the side of his thumb.

“You are so good at this,” he says slowly. He honestly couldn’t imagine painting such tiny details if he were sober; he doesn’t know how she’s doing it stoned. She’s swaying and blinking slowly, but she looks focused, her brows furrowed.

“You’re good at this,” she mumbles.

“What?” He laughs.

“I don’t know,” she says. “It’s easy if I can concentrate.” Her eyes flicker up to his, a smirk curled over her lips.

“‘M I distracting you?” He raises a brow.

“I can feel your cock,” she says.

“Please, don’t say cock while you’re touching my cock,” he says, readjusting his growing bulge. She just chuckles and moves her foot along his boxers, where his semi and the top of his thighs connect. His hips twitch.

She barely caps the nail polish before she tosses it to the side and straddles him. He cups her hips, the fact that his nails are still wet long gone from both of their minds. She holds him by the neck, tilting his head back. Before she can capture his lips, he hesitates, his hands tracing along her thighs.

“Are you sure?”

Even though they’re practically living together at this point and have had sex plenty of times, he can’t help but ask her that same question every time. He’s never been one to feel secure in himself, and to have someone who is so open and willing to trust him, it’s overwhelming and intimidating sometimes.

“Of course, H,” she says, nibbling at his bottom lip, and then, he kisses her, fully and profoundly. He could just melt into her, his senses consumed by her warmth and love. He wouldn’t go as far as saying that the sex is better than when they’re sober. It’s great all the time, but there’s something about being high, with his skin buzzing and all of his senses heightened yet dulled at the same time, that makes the experience different. It’s different because he’s not worried about what he’s doing and saying; he’s focusing on the feeling, all of the sensations and simply her.

She tries to pull his shirt over his head, but it gets caught on the chain around his neck, and she tugs a little too hard, yanking it tightly around his throat.

“Easy, Y/N,” he laughs, holding onto her wrists. “I know you’re eager to get me naked, but I think you forget that I am also precious cargo.” Her lips sink into a pout, and he’s able to get the shirt off, throwing it off to the side, his headband going with it.

“You are precious,” she says, squishing his cheeks together. She cups the back of his neck and pecks his lips, gentle and loving. “Love these little baby hairs,” she says, running her hand over his skin, teasing and tugging on his chest hairs.

“They’re not baby hairs,” he says, pouting. He teases his hands along her hips, nails digging into her fleshy skin. “I am a man.”

“Oh, I know,” she chuckles, feeling his hips jerk up, pressing his swelling bulge into her. He wraps his arms around her waist, fingers tracing along the expanse of her back, and nestles his face into her chest. She shifts further up on his lap, fingers carding through his soft hair. Being far too lazy to take it off, he sucks on her breasts through her worn tee, her nipples hardening in his teeth. She pushes his boxers down and readjusts herself over him, rubbing her clothed pussy along his pulsing cock. She tugs her panties to the side, and he moans at the sudden warmth, her arousal coating him.

“You like that?” She asks breathily, rocking her hips faster. “Like feeling me drip onto your cock?”

“What if I just—” She teases the head of his cock, just barely pushing him inside before she pulls out. He can barely make a sound, his throat tightening when

“You like it when I tease your cock? Can feel you throbbing.” Her eyes roll back at the burning feeling of him just breaking past the barrier of her tightness. “So needy for me, bubba.”

“Such a dirty mouth,” he moans.

“Tell me, babe.” She holds him by the jaw, the pads of her fingers pressing perfectly into his pressure points, and he struggles for breath, making his head even lighter and obscured. He grins. “Tell me how much you love my pussy,” she says as she sinks fully onto him, her walls swallowing him easily.

“Fuck,” he moans, long and drawn out. His head falls onto the couch cushions, eyes closing to savor the feeling of her gripping him, but she pulls him back, forcing him to keep eye contact. “I love it; love you more, though,” he says.

“Say it,” she coos.

He blushes, heat spreading from his chest to the tip of his ears. He has never been vocal when it comes to sex; he always gets flustered and anxious when having a normal conversation, so he couldn’t even imagine how how awkward he would be while trying to talk dirty. It’s even more difficult because of how much she’s teasing him, slow and languid movements up and down his cock, his head just barely inside her before she comes back down, her hips grinding against his. She has this look in her hooded eyes, a lustful and greedy look, that’s telling him to give in to his instincts.

“Love y-your pussy, baby,” he moans.

“Yeah?” She starts riding him faster, her walls milking him. He groans. “Tell me how it feels, H.” She smirks, like an actual full blown, teasing smirk; she knows exactly how good she’s making him feel. She likes seeing him so flustered and babbly and incoherent.

“So fucking good, so warm and wet, perfect for me, lovie,” he says, and she grins, teeth bared. She kisses him, messily and harshly. His arms wrap tightly around her waist, stilling her hips, and a hand travels up the length of her spine, beginning at the curve of her bum, dipping momentarily beneath her large tee, before moving up to the back of her neck, pressing her lips tighter to his. He cradles her head while he moves onto the floor, but it’s not nearly as graceful as he hoped it would be. They crash to the ground.

“Oh, god,” she squeals, and her walls squeeze him painfully tight. Her nails dig into his back.

“Wha’s wrong?” He wipes the sweat from his forehead, fingers raking through his hair.

“No, no,” she stutters, hands moving onto the swell of his ass, keeping him still. “You’re so deep.”

He swears his arms are going to give out at the sound of her sweet little whisper, her voice weak and broken.

“H-how deep?”

He can’t help the break in his voice, and embarrassment floods him. He’s honestly trying his hardest to sound sexy, but he just sounds like an idiot.

“As deep as the ocean,” she mumbles, and she looks so positively fucked, out of it and dazed with hooded eyes; he honestly doesn't even think she realizes what she said because when he starts laughing, she gives him the cutest look, her brows furrowed, lips curled. “What?”

“Congrats,” he says, leaning back and onto his knees, his arms curled under her thighs, knees hooked over his arms. “You almost just made me go soft. Never done that before.”

“Shut up,” she says, grinding her hips into him. His thrusts start slow, deliberate, but the more she reacts to him, the more she bucks and grinds, the faster they become, until he can’t anymore, driving his cock in with fast, precise thrusts.

“You look so good like this,” he says, groping her breasts over her tee, nipples swollen and hard. They move with every thrust of his hips.

“Thanks, it’s the shirt,” she says breathily, a weak smile on her lips. “It covers up all my ugly parts.”

“Tha’s not what I meant,” he says, frowning. He leans over her, hands on either side of her head, and she lets out a weak moan as his cock moves deeper inside her. “Look beautiful all the time.” He genuinely looks sad as he brushes away a bead of sweat from her forehead. “You don’ have to take your shirt off when we have sex, not if you don’ want to. I take it off normally because I thought it would be more comfortable for you, and, le’s be honest, your tits are amazing, and I love seeing your curves and your—”

She suddenly pulls him in for a kiss, ceasing his ramblings. He’s cute when he gets all nervous; despite the fact he’s balls deep inside her, he’s still a worrier. It’s sweet that he’s concerned about how she’s feeling, even though he’s not fully present, with red cheeks and hooded eyes, chest heaving for breath. She raises her hips, grinding up into him, her swollen clit just barely grazing against his abdomen. She clenches around him at the sharp, sudden burst of pleasure.

She raises her feet from the floor, and he presses her knees to her chest. The sound of him fucking himself into her wet cunt fills the air, obscenities and pleasured whimpers joining. Not having the energy to kiss fully, he traces his lips along the curve of her jaw, tender and messy. His thrusts become sharper and deeper, knocking the breath from her lungs with every move of his hips.

“Oh, god, ‘m so fucking wet.” She laughs, feeling through her soaked curls to her throbbing clit. She really is; her arousal drips onto their thighs and into the carpet. Her head spins, burning pleasure building as he grinds into her and spreads her legs further apart.

“Fuckin’ hell—” He whines as she tightens around him, her fingers rubbing her little clit raw.

“‘M gonna come,” she moans, tugging at his hair. “C’mon, baby,” she coos, “want you to—” She swallows thickly, her breathing shallow. Her eyes roll back as she pinches her poor swollen clit, her thighs trembling. She meets his thrusts, eager for her impending orgasm. “Want you to come in me, wanna feel your cum in my—”

She lets out one loud moan, her body trembling and shuddering beneath him as pleasure rushes through her, leaving her limbs tingling and her mind muddled. They bask in the afterglow, their breaths in sync and deep, and he slumps onto her, wrapping his arms around her, tracing his hands over any piece of skin he can. He just wants to savor this feeling, the closeness, the warmth, the tenderness.

Her hand suddenly fishes over to the caramels that Harry made a couple days ago, which have been taunting her in a faux-crystal bowl on the coffee table for the past couple of minutes. The make-shift wax paper wrapper crinkles, and the sound makes him look up, his eyes still hooded, movements languid with exhaustion. He opens his mouth sleepily, and she rips the caramel in half. They both moan at the same time at the taste and fall into a fit of giggles. He moves to his side, his chest pressed to her back, softening cock pressed to the curve of her bum.

“Sorry,” he says, “messed up your art.” He flashes his nails, the pink paint still soft and pliable, littered with nicks and dents and imprints from the couch cushions. She hooks her fingers through his and tugs his hand down to her lips.

“Worth it.”

—

[didsomeonesaydaddydraco]

What true love feels like - part 4 | Tom Felton imagine

Part 4 is here! It’s the penultimate part, yaaaay! :( It’s a little more emotional than the chapters before, but I hope you still like it. I cried a little writing it (but I blame it on the wine!). Again, parts written in italic are flashbacks. Let me know what you think. 

Word count: 3036

Pairing: Tom Felton x Reader

Tag list: @abrunettefangirlnerd ; @youknowiloveyou-so; @the-girl-who-drew; @thescaletknight2014; @lil5sosbetch; @pipppaaaaalouisee; @mysticskeletonfireherring Thank you guys so much for your support! 

You can find the previous chapters right here:

Part 1      Part 2      Part 3

*Y/N’s POV* - two weeks later

We fall in love with three people in our lifetime. Each one has a very specific reason.

The first love often happens at a young age. You eventually grow apart or call it quits over silly things. When you get older you may look back and think it wasn’t love. But the truth is, it was. It was love for what you knew love to be.

The second love it that hard one. The hard love. You get hurt in this one. This love teaches us lessons and makes us stronger. This love includes great pan, lies, betrayal, abuse, drama and damage. But this is the one where we grow. We realise what we love about love and what we don’t love about love. We learn the difference between good and bad humans. We become closed, careful, cautious and considerate. We learn what exactly we want or do not want.

And the third love it the one that comes blindly. No warning. It creeps on us silently. We don’t go looking for this love. It comes at us. We can put up any wall we want, it will be broken down. We’ll find ourselves caring about that person without trying. They look nothing like our usual crush types, but we get lost in their eyes daily. We see beauty in their imperfections. We hide nothing from them. We want marriage and family with them. We thank the universe for them, we truly love them.

Two weeks have passed ever since I left my fiancé at the altar without any explanation. It have been two weeks since my father called my brother to come and rescue me from making a huge mistake. Two weeks, and I still couldn’t get my shit together to get out of the small house by the lake and face the consequences of my actions. I was a coward, it was no secret. During these days, I had only talked to my Mom and Dad, and once with my sister who wanted to know is I had enough vodka with me.

And I talked to Aaron once. We talked for long hours on the phone, or we just held our mobiles to our ears and said nothing at all. He asked me all those questions. Questions, which I couldn’t or didn’t want to answer. How was I supposed to, when my only answer was that I was in love with another man?! Before he had to go, he asked me one thing: to write down everything that comes to my mind when I think of love. And when I’m done, I’ll know the answer for all of my questions and his as well.

Tom. There wasn’t a day when I didn’t think of him. He tried to reach me so many times. He called, he texted and he even showed up one time. He knew where he had to look for me. He was the only one apart from my Dad and brother, who knew my secret getaway place. He sat in his car in front of the lake house and I watched him from the living room’s window, hidden by the curtains. He knew I was watching him. And it was enough for him. He made sure I was okay, and knew he had to give me time and space to calm down and think everything through. He knew me too well.

I would lie if I said I didn’t miss Aaron at all. That’s not true. I missed him. And for the first couple of days, it scared me. I was scared because I thought I made a mistake by leaving him there. But I had a very long conversation with my Dad about it, and I realized one thing. It is okay to miss someone, miss someone who is not right for me, but once gave me what I needed. Maybe I was the words that touched me where I thought nobody understood me. Maybe it was the touch that I cherished that way, the arm around me, and the emptiness that was filled up. Someone I could talk to, someone who listened. Maybe he didn’t understand me, maybe the void wasn’t filled in the right way, and maybe the beautiful moments were not enough to make the dark sides forget. But at that moment, what I needed was what filled my void, right or wrong. I loved him because of his beautiful sides, the beautiful memories that I we have built. And it’s okay to acknowledge that it might have been nothing more than a consolation, a dream, a memory, a relationship that did not meet my expectations, a relationship in which you did not match, a good hope, with a painful outcome. It is okay when expectations, dreams, and hope lead to disappointment. It’s painful, difficult and sad, but it is okay. It is okay, because that meant that I have tried it, that I have learned from it. I had to get up again, take my experience with me, look at myself and focus on myself, my new encounter, a promising future that lies ahead.

“So, for how long do you want to still hide in the lake house?” my brother came out of the kitchen with two glasses of juice in his hands “Y/N, it’s been two weeks. I think it’s time to face the real world again”

I took one of the glasses from him and drank it in one take. It was a nice change from vodka. It’s been like that for the last couple of days. When we arrived, all I wanted was to disappear from the surface. I literally hid in the bedroom, and only left the bed to grab something to eat or take a very quick shower. When I was ready to face myself again, the only thing that made my whole situation bearable was the power of alcohol. It helped me to forget about everything and everyone.

“How do you know when a man is right for you?” I looked at him hopelessly. My brother was good at giving advice. And I loved to go to him for it because he never used anything cliché, but tried to help based on his own experiences.

I sat down on the sofa and waited for him to join me. He followed me, and placed himself down with a sigh. I was more than grateful for him. He came to check on me every other day, made sure I had everything I needed and I was okay. He was a great man, and I had no idea how I was going to give all this back to him.

“Honestly, you will just know” he took a sip from his pineapple juice “You’ll be able to tell by his mannerism. The way he looks at you. The way he talks to you, the way he pays attention to every single word you say, it’ll be in his laughter, his attention to detail” he took my hand in his and give it a reassuring small squeeze “The atmosphere when he is around you, a man who makes you a better woman, a better sister, a better daughter and the perfect future mother and wife”

“Huh, wife” I snorted at the grotesque of the situation “I was supposed to be one by now, you know”

“Let’s forget that for now” he shook his head “You will realise a man is right for you when he makes you stronger emotionally, physically and mentally. He will empower you, he will bring you closer to your goals, and he will make you feel better about yourself. You will learn to love yourself, he will become your teacher, your friend and your soulmate. You will begin to realise that he will learn to love you, just so you love yourself. You will know he is right for you, the moment he walks through the door and your heart finally rests with peace.”

“Well, it looks like Aaron wasn’t the right for me than” I looked at the empty glass in my hand. Damian was right. I needed someone who brought me peace.

“He was, at one time in your life” he smiled at me gently “But you grew so much in that relationship, and deep inside you knew from the start, he wasn’t going to stay in your life forever.”

“You’re not mad at me?” I looked back at him “I feel like everyone who was at the wedding hates me now. I betrayed Aaron and his family. I even betrayed my own family.”

“Nobody hates you, Y/N” he laughed “They found the whole situation bloody entertaining if you ask me. Most of them someone predicted your move. When you showed up at the entrance with Dad by your side, it was obvious something was wrong”

“Thanks” I let a tear slip. It was the first time in the last two weeks when I let myself cry. I tried everything to stay strong and pulled together and to keep my head as clean as I could so I had the chance to think and make the right decision this time “For everything. You have no idea how grateful I am to you for showing up and literally saving me that day”

“You’re my sister, and your happiness is the most important thing for me” he kissed my forehead and stood up from the sofa “I’d like to stay, but I have to go to work tomorrow and I still need to finish the last bits of my presentation. Will you be fine?”

“Yeah, sure” I nodded and followed him to the main door. I walked him out, and watched as he drove off. It was getting dark, and the weather was a little bit chilly even though it was almost June. I stayed outside for a bit and enjoyed the calm weather. I needed it. Going back to the house, I found my Dad’s letter on the kitchen counter. I read it so many times, I could almost say it back without a mistake.

“To my sweet Daughter,

I don’t know who that man is who stole your heart, but if you ever begin to wonder if he is the one, ask yourself:

Does his laughter warm your body from the inside out? He knows that when you saw two scoops you really mean three, right? DO you dance in his living room while drinking cheap wine? I hope so, and I hope you’re both drunk and terrible and laughing to hard you cry. Does he tell you how beautiful you are, and if yes, does he say it when the morning light falls upon your face? More importantly, when he tells you, do you believe him? Can you cry in front of him? I hope you can, that means you trust him. When it’s pouring rain does he know that if your hair is curled or your eyes are sad that means he should get the car and get it to you? When he asks what you want for dinner and you say you aren’t hungry, does he ask if you’ve eaten today. And when you say you had breakfast, I hope he knows you don’t eat breakfast, and makes you a bowl of pasta, because that’s your favourite comfort food. Does he kiss you good morning? Good night? Just because? Do you know he like his coffee black? Unless he wants it cooled, then he will probably want some milk in it, but not too much. Do you know when he prefers tea over coffee? I never quite figured that out with your Mother. Have you figured out if he is ticklish? Don’t let him convince you he’s not, I promise you he is. Have you frustrated the hell out of him yet? You will, oh you will, but it’s how you two come out of it that matters. And when he said he loved you for the first time, did you respond by asking if he’s afraid of heights? I hope with my entire soul that he said yes, because that means, despite his fear of heights, he still fell for you. Now, sweet girl, you tell me, is he the one?

Love, Daddy”

I put back down his letter, only to find my shaky handwritten papers next to it. I tried to absolve Aaron’s task, but it was almost impossible. I really thought I wasn’t able to give a normal answer to his questions, but when one night I drank almost a whole bottle of vodka by myself, the words just appeared on the paper in front of me without me noticing. I wrote without thinking. I used my heart, and the outcome wasn’t quite surprising. I knew Aaron was ready to give me a second chance. He said it himself. He was ready to sit down, talk as much as we needed and even go to couple’s therapy to fix everything that went wrong in our relationship, but I knew better. There wasn’t enough conversations, there wasn’t a couple therapist out there who could make me fall in love with him again. Not, if I wasn’t in love with him in the first place. I loved him. I truly did, but not in the way which was enough for me to be his wife and spend the rest of my life with him. Aaron wanted me to choose.

“Oh fuck this” I said and grabbed my keys and bag from the counter. It was now or never. I wasted enough time, I didn’t want to waste any more. I hopped in my car and drove off from the driveway.

“What is love?” Tom asked me while I laid on his chest, listening to the beautiful of melody of his heartbeat and the rain on his window sill. It was one of those days, when I didn’t have to rush home after dinner. We could cuddle and talk for hours. Enjoying each other company. Kissing each other with love and passion. Playing with each other’s hands while we talked about everything and anything. I cherished these moments.

“When I was little, I thought love was about red roses and expensive dinners. Truth is, love is giving the other half your fries when they said they weren’t hungry. It’s waking up at 4 am to them snoring and refraining from shoving them off the bed. It’s talking about in accents just for shits, and trying to embarrass one another in public. It’s going on adventures, and making fun of each other. Its stupid fights and memorable make ups. Love isn’t pretty and romantic. Love is just stumbling through life with your best friend.” I brought his hand up to my lips and kissed his palm.

“I’d love nothing more than to stumble through life with you” he said silently. It was better than a simple I love you. It was better than any kind of huge and overpriced gesture to show his love. With this statement, he put my heart in peace. I knew it was wrong, but I fell for him. And I did it hard.”

I parked my car on the other side of the road. I need a moment to pull myself together. I looked at the huge house which was way too familiar to me. I couldn’t tell how many times I had been there before. He was home. The lights were up in his study, he was probably working on his next big project, or he was sitting by the vintage reading lamp, flipping through a book, writing down quotes he could identify with. With a deep breath, I got out of my car and walked to his front door and rang the bell. I heard his footsteps and he rushed down the stairs. I was out of breath when he opened the door. He was there, standing right in front of me. I could smell his amazing scent. Spicy aromatic. Bergamot, lime, neroli and apple. There was a slight hint of patchouli, rose and teak wood, along with vanilla, musk and labdanum. He smelt like home.

“Y/N?” his voice was a little bit raspy, probably from singing in the shower of while he made dinner for himself “What are you doing here?”

“I had to write down everything that came into my mind when I thought about love” I pulled out the wrinkled paper from hip-pocket “For first, I couldn’t. But then I drank a whole bottle of vodka, and everything was written down without me thinking about it.”

I could tell he was confused. He didn’t know why I wasn’t giving him a straight answer. Truth it, I didn’t know where to start everything. I wanted to say so many things. I thought I figured out my whole speech on my way to his house, but the truth is, the moment I saw his beautiful eyes, I forgot everything. You see, there comes a time when you meet someone and all the things you wanted in a lover just start to disappear. You wanted creamy brown eyes, and then all of a sudden his bright blue eyes become your favourite. You wanted someone who plays sports but the way he plays the piano or the guitar just softens your heart. You wanted someone who can use beautiful words to make you feel better but he doesn’t speak when you’re down crying, he just sits right there and holds you with no intention of letting go. You wanted a lover who tells you you’re the real art when you are at museums but then you meet someone who doesn’t look at the stars in the night but he just stares at your eyes. And you meet someone who makes you laugh. And suddenly he is like you wanted him to be. He makes you happy. That is all, happiness.

“Aaron asked be to choose” I said finally. I was chewing on my bottom lip. I felt like I was going to faint right in front of him.

“And who did you choose?” he asked me calmly.

“Well, I’m standing right in front of you”

Part 5?

[dragonrajafanfiction]

Club Takamagahara (End) - Dating Game

Woo Doggy! This has been fun to write and I mean FUN. Having no real holds barred and getting really silly was a lot easier than I expected and I had a great time with this arc. 

One of the biggest complaints in the mobile game fandom is the Main Story offers no love interest for the MC and it trails off at this part as the MC is reduced to a go-fer for every NPC’s sidequest. Well I say NO MORE, you will be quite literally the center of everyone’s attention from here on out.

Cars lined up around the entire block of the street and women were lined up along the sidewalk for their tickets. From 8 to 10 p.m., the busiest time of the night was when the stage was filled with shows by the performers, from ancient erotic dramas like Cleopatra and Marc Antony to Chu Zihang's swordplay; off stage, the guests were already drunk. The guests who came late were often groups of girlfriends who had eaten dinner elsewhere and came to join the singing and dancing party in Takamagahara, the performers had to go over and greet them, there was a shortage of manpower everywhere. Both the escorts and waiters were running to work, Whale was roaring outside the dressing room backstage, like the circus troupe master. 

The message of the Romanceable MC Contest had caught fire and boosted to epic proportions. Princess Night was in full swing and featured all the top names in Male Escort business. Even before they got out of the cars, the women were screaming and taking pictures having lined up for hours.

The  white Cadillac Escalade stretch limousine rolled like an anaconda and reflected the millions of electric lights of the Tokyo night. It took up half the block, but there was space left for cars like this, reserved for the VIPs of the Takamagahara elite. No one could park there on pain of towing and a hefty fine.

A man in a hooded cloak pulled the lollipop out of his mouth. His bright green eyes scanned the crowd waiting outside. He crossed his legs one over the other and leaned back. “What percentage of the fans out there are mine?”

“From the ticket sales it seems that you are about 30% of the crowd today, Master Inoue.” The driver, a veteran and son of drivers, had been there for him since he first made it big hosting the Bliss Hall. This driver was so skilled at avoiding paparazzi that he put him under a lifetime contract. Now he was much older, but his driving was still as sharp as ever.

The man in the back seat was barely visible, dressed in all black and keeping the lights down so that it looked just like an empty limo. He huffed with a slight smirk. He crossed his arms and looked down. “Wow. And I’m supposed to have competition?” 

“You are the top male escort in Tokyo, Master Inoue,” rumbled the driver again.

That sharp green eye flicked up to the rear view mirror. “Second… to the top. If you would, sir. But apparently Ruri Kazama isn’t competing.”

Ruri Kazama. The name was so legendary among the escorts of Japan that they scarcely dared to utter it. Although he rarely appeared outside private showings, the man reigned supreme as the king of the male escort business.

“He’s unlikely he would have been able to respond on short notice, Master Inoue…”

“No one skips the Takamagahara…” He looked back outside, pushing back the thick velvet curtain slightly.

“You’ve skipped it by 3 hours sir.”

“I”m only here to see one woman. There’s no need to see any others or stay here too long. I come here, win her little heart, and leave with my prize money.”

“You’re really not going to entertain your fans, sir?”

He grinned, his radiant and white smile shining in the dark of the limo. “There’s value in scarcity. If I popped up in full all the time, there’d be no chase. And as you know very well, my most excellent driver… It's all about the chase! If you would, please?”

The driver put the truck in park and stepped out in his sharp suit and driver’s hat. He pulled the handle on the pearly side door and opened it.

Shining black cowboy boots covered in sparkling rhinestones stepped down from the limo. He moved as smooth and graceful as a dancer in skin tight leather pants. His black leather jacket was open to reveal his bare chest and sculpted abs. His hair, bleached white streamed from a black cowboy hat decorated with shark’s teeth.

His appearance sparked immediate mayhem, screams, and mad panting. Dozens of hands reached out desperately, stretching their fingers towards him as though they were pulled by an extremely powerful magnet. They were all screaming, “Diamond!”

Master Inoue - or to his fans, Diamond - stood still as a statue, hat tipped over his eyes, listening to their desperate pleas with his eyes closed.

It seemed arrogant, but for him, it was always like this. From the time he was a child, people couldn’t keep their hands to themselves. When they caught sight of his brilliant green eyes they were drawn to him before he even knew the difference between boys and girls. Sitting in the stroller, all he had to do was smile and the women would come and coo and smile and ask, please, can I hold him. Please!

“Please! Hold me, Diamond! Never let me go!”

Diamond lifted his head toward the voice. It was a woman in her thirties, tears in her eyes, begging with the desperation of a leper before Christ. If he just wanted to, he could heal her broken heart. He walked casually towards her and saw her eyes get bigger and bigger and then he took her delicate hand in his and gently kissed it.

The woman, struck with a Pentacostal frenzy, trembled and fell to her knees sobbing in desperation, clutching her hand and rocking back and forth. She would probably never wash that hand again.

The little favor revved the up crowd even more and the bouncers hurried to line up and make a barrier. That kiss was all he would grant. He turned and walked through the velvet rope staffed with burly workers with black masks over their eyes. They opened the doors to Takamagahara and he stepped inside. Immediately, two more workers turned to lead him to the VIP area.

“So who’s the lucky lady tonight?” Deep down, he was quite excited. His clients were usually 35 and older. For thousands of dollars, he would have dinner at a fancy restaurant, followed by drinks in some VIP Lounge. Or he would be asked to clean the house naked. Or pretend to be her boyfriend for the night. There was the common misconception that his clients were old or undateable. But that wasn’t his experience at all.

People who had $5,000 to spend on a naked butler could have anyone they wanted.

And they wanted him.

This challenge was new for him. The club picked his woman and they would be paying his escort fee. 

His only task would be to ‘Love her.’ If she felt that then she would give him tickets. Whoever got the most tickets was the winner. When she picked his ‘route’.

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

It wasn’t that you got a private party, MC. This was a show.  You were on the floor with everyone else. Rather than sticking to the edge of the crowd you got your table in the shape of a figure 8 in the middle of a raised platform filled with fish swimming about and surrounded by plush red couches in the shape of women’s lips. And already, the bottles were open. 

You’re wearing another dress, not a cheongsam this time. It was a light green satin tube dress that hugged your figure and barely covered anything. Your hair was long and down your shoulders and your make up again was light. For such a simple look, you had spent hours in the spa that day while they made sure your hair was softer than it ever had been. You smelled like lilac and roses. 

A man with short blond hair cropped above his ears, blue eyes and a black shirt so tight it conformed to every muscle in his body yelled above the music. “Where are you from?”

“Uh… Russia!”

“Russia! Woooow! Are you some sort of Oil Baron?”

“Yeah!” You yell figuring nothing you said mattered. They wouldn't remember anything anyway would they?

He flicks his wrist and produces an unopened rose stem, seemingly from thin air and offers it to you. “To me you’re worth more than all the oil in the world. I hope we get to know each other well, MC.”

Below the shirt, He wore pale form fitting jeans that hugged his considerable muscle just like Caesar’s outfit did. But his shoes were casual sneakers without ornamentation.

You accept the rose he offers you, feeling a bit shy.

Another man in a golden blouse that is made of fabric so sheer you could see the belly button piercing underneath, pulls out a cigarette and lights it up. He puffs out a perfect ring of smoke between his thin lips. “That would be Oil Baroness, Calypso…” He says. “She must have more pull than just money to bring us all to the same table.” His voice was deep and carried through the noise. He pulled another drag and sipped his liquor. But he was looking at you with calculating dark eyes.

A silver coin goes spinning on the table. A man in fiery red hair tied back in a ponytail, puffy red coat and a long chain over his bare chest lifts his chin at you. His eyes are as silver as that coin. “Heads or Tails, MC?”

“What am I betting on?” You ask.

His smile spreads further. “I just said heads or tails.”

“Hey, go easy, she’s new!” The man in the skintight black shirt returns with a bottle of vodka and pours it into a glass.

The redhead slaps his hand over the coin. It’s painted with an elaborate henna tattoo, elaborate, like stained glass. “You’re not going to win by going easy…”

The smell of the vodka is the mix of rubbing alcohol and gasoline. Light a match and it might produce a plume of flame! You lean away, repulsed, but the man next to you brazenly pours himself a glass and downs it. Sighing roughly like he might breathe fire, he grins. “That’s the good stuff! But you must drink it every day right?”

“Yeah!” You take cautious sips but the burn builds and builds until it overwhelms you and forces you to stop and cough into your arm.

Caesar, Mingfei and Chu Zihang were nowhere to be found. It was clear this club was over occupancy and over staffed so there was no rescuing you. All the waiters were running around. From somewhere in the hall, glass breaks.

A finger taps your shoulder. You’re met by a bright green gaze in a pale face.

You flinch as a crown is laid on your head.

“Your Majesty…” The man bows to you.

“Your Majesty!”  They all echo with bows and kittenish smiles. For years, you’d never considered trying to date anyone. You lived like you were preparing for war. Then the war came and never let up. Now, you’re surrounded by men who could honestly be called the handsomest in Tokyo who were placing their hands on their broad chests and bowing their heads in fealty.

Off stage, the women on the floor whooped with delight.

Cowboy hat tipped over one eye, shirtless in his jacket, with a bare hairless chest, the man who gave you the jeweled tiara leaned over the couch. Every muscle stood out in carefully carved relief and your eyes followed them down to where they disappeared below his waist. The elastic band of his boxers peek up from the pants. You’d seen naked people before. But they were all familiar, people you knew and were fine with. This is the first time encountering the bare chest of a complete stranger and he’s so close you can smell his sweat. “Wow…” He says quietly, in a low purr next to your ear.

“I’m sorry?”

“You are… beautiful.” His eyes roamed about your body with a lopsided smile, his eyebrows raising. “I have to say I am caught by surprise.”

If your face gets any hotter it might catch fire.

He vaults over the couch, plops next to you and leans in, filling your vision. He gives a quick wink. “I’m yours for the night.”

“Diamond is always this forward but the truth is, he’s the most inexperienced of all of us.”

Diamond shoots the yellow shirt a glare. “I’m experienced in everything she would possibly want, Armani.”

“Yes, but we must go gently, gently…” The black shirt lightly rustles your hair. “We don't want to scare her off.”

“I’m here to do what she wants me to do…” Diamond waves the other men away before addressing you again. “Well, what’s your name?”

You tell him.

“Beautiful… let me guess? Russian?” His hand crept over to envelope yours in a steady grip. His fingers were so much larger than yours and soft like they were bathed in milk every day. There were no calluses. When Mingfei or Caesar touched you, there were roughened, thick patches of skin from hours of practice at the shooting ranges. His nails were even, shining and unbroken.

He raises your hand to his lips and gives it a small kiss. “Pleased to make your acquaintance. You can call me, Diamond.”

“Okay, Diamond.” You glance up at his eyes. He follows your gaze down when it falls again, trying to hold it as much as possible to the point where he leans over and tilts his head to do so. Every time you look up, those eyes are there, to catch that glance, like a serpent hypnotizing his prey.

He holds your drink out to you and you accept it with thanks.

“Are you cold? I noticed you’re keeping your feet tucked under.”

“Yes, it’s… a little cold.”

He shrugged off his jacket and laid it over your shoulders. It was very warm and you realized that the smell of the cologne he was wearing surrounded you like a thick heavy fog.  You could now see his body in all its glory. You belatedly realize that the observation of your being cold was just an excuse for him to remove one of the few pieces of clothing he had!

His shoulders.. The way his neck curved into them and then down to his back. You’d seen shoulders like his before but for some reason, in seeing someone new, made your eye rest on it that much longer, on the way the muscle hugged his bone . The cold in the room made his nipples stand out and...

“Anything else I can do to make you more comfortable, Your Highness?” He stayed turned to you. The way his abs wrinkled. That little valley on his side that disappeared when it met the leather pants. You were naturally observant. Everything you saw was getting laser etched into your mind. In an effort to stop it, you return to his eyes but even that wasn’t safe. He was so close, you could notice small flecks of blue and gold that enhanced the color. 

“Your eyes are really pretty.” You say this, but it doesn’t sound right even in your own ears. It wasn’t really his eyes you wanted to say something about.

He gives an easy relaxed smile, his eyebrows lift once. “Your eyes are prettier.”

“No they’re not.”

“I think I’m gonna barf. Let a pro show you how it’s done.” The redhead plants one arm between you and Diamond and ignores his furious glare.

His lips were really pink, almost cherry red, but you don’t see any sign of gaudy lipstick that Caesar wore. Everything about this man was gorgeous, even the light smatter of freckles on his nose. And everything about him was natural, save his hair color. The breath from his nose tickles your lips. He’s not backing away, he only tilts his head a bit.

You start to imagine what it might be like to kiss him. He draws a bit closer… closer. You close your eyes and wait. Wait… nothing.

“Can I?” He asks, quietly pleading.

“Uh...huh?” You press the words out from a stomach that was already squeezed tight like a fist.

“Good. I’ll keep that in mind for later.” The redhead pulls back and sashays back to this spot on the couch, giving Diamond a sharp snap of his fingers, just inches on his face. “Get on my level.”

“Alright, Alright, point taken.” Diamond pours himself some vodka.

The man in the yellow blouse, Armani, tilts his glass a bit. “Popularity is just a sign of good marketing and ubiquity. None of us can doubt your social media prowess, Diamond, but this is much higher class.”

He’s then staring at you with a half-lidded gaze. “Perhaps the baroness should accustom herself to someone who has dined with high officials. The ones with real power.”

“Okay…” You whisper, you’re completely captivated, unable to move.

“But that’s boring.” The Redhead sighs. “She needs to have more anticipation and suspense!”

“Your name is Chance because whether or not you’re any good is a complete crapshoot.” Armani sips his whiskey.

“But you could hit the jackpot.” He winks at you. “I’m one in a million.”

A loud popping sound  made you suddenly duck but he held you close. Confetti and glitter rained from the ceiling and cascaded over your skin. You look at your arm and watch the play of the disco lights on the sparkle.

“It’s time to give out Star-Heart Tickets! Who is the Ikemen who’s won this round?!” Whale is still emceeing this event and apparently was watching you. A waiter comes by with a basket full of stars with hearts in the middle.

You look at face after glorious handsome face. They were all leaning forward, smiling, waiting. Off stage people were yelling. Bets were being taken. “Diamond! Diamond!”

“PIck Armani he’s the best!”

“You’ll love Calypso!”

“Go with Chance!!”

“I don’t know…” You say, your voice weak. You look at your glass but it seems like the level has hardly moved even though you already feel dizzy.

“No one!” Whale shouts loudly. 

There must be a microphone because you’re not sure how he’s hearing what you’re saying. A gasp ripples through the crowd surrounding you and they fall to a confused silence. All the men sitting around you sit up straight, their faces each registering different levels of surprise and consternation. Save Chance, who whooped loud. “Yeah! Now this is what I’ve been waiting for! Let the games begin!” He pumped his fist.

Chance makes a mighty leap on the table and stands in front of you, all six feet of masculine bravado. “Let me give it to you straight. It’s true, I’m not always everyone’s cup of tea, I go buck wild sometimes.” He sweeps his arms across the table at the other men. “But if girls just fall into your lap at the first sight, how do you know how to compete? Ya don’t!”

Armani stares up at Chance and slowly sets his whiskey down. The others also suddenly changed their demeanor, grave determination and desire in their eyes.