#anyways hope this looks much better than the last update let me know what yall think!

[cakepoppresent]

He Was Really Nice...

I shall add the transcript later!

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[quirklessidiot]

title : cigarettes and parfaits [4]  pairing : older!nanami kento x younger!reader [13 year age gap, ft toji fushiguro] Genre: romance, fluff, slice of life, josei, angst, comedy, strangers to lovers au

Summary: you’re pretty sure you’d remember marrying a man 13 years older than you, right? Warnings: alcohol, smoking, mild smut, y/n making stupid decisions, cliche fluff, everyones a human-au so yeh non-canon stuff and everyone’s happy (periODT)

Notes: lil development right there HAHSHSHHS , yes tojis appearing soon guYS hddhdhdh thank u for ur patience ily all and yall stay safe and drink lots and ltos of water!! sorry for the late update!

Masterlist || taglist || [prev ; next] [updates; every saturday!]

You stare at the ring on your hand as you stand next to Nanami Kento in the grocery shop, you and him have agreed to see each other and go out once a week while fixing up the divorce papers. 

Last week you both had gone to a cafe after work but had to end early since Yuuji had fell down the stairs (despite being athletic, the boy was awfully clumsy). This week, you both decided to do something mundane.

Grocery shopping.

“Hm, what does Yuuji think about this?” You asked, showing the man some bars of rice krispies, “He seems to be a sweet-tooth.”

“Sukuna is the sweet-tooth, Yuuji isn’t really picky with food.”

“Huh,” You hummed,  “Sukuna seems so soft despite all the tattoo’s.”

Nanami rolls his eyes at your statement, “He’s just, as kids like to call these days, a nerd.” he retorts, taking the peanut butter off the shelf and carefully placing it in the grocery cart, “He enjoys mathematics and art,”

“Ah, hence the tattoo’s.” you thought out loud.

“I almost lost it when he went home a few months ago looking like that.” He sighs, running his hands through his hair, “It was a sign of rebellion, saying that he didn’t want to move to Tokyo.”

You chuckled, eyes on him, “Must’ve shot up your blood pressure, Kento.”

He clicks his tongue in dismay, the memory still fresh. Nanami Kento    unlike what Gojo Satoru said    was a very easy person to like and accompany. Ever since that ‘mild’ mishap two weeks ago, you’d have calls and little quick meet-ups aside from the once a week dates. 

At times it felt like the little wedding at the Izakaya hadn’t happened, it was as if you were just going out with him.

Nanami Kento didn’t even have to try so hard to make you comfortable, he was just...there and everything just seemed right. He had easily fit right in with your routine.

You continue to watch him and he stops in the middle of his tracks, blinking heavily, “Ah,” he mumbles, placing a hand over his eye.

“Oh,” you paused in your tracks too, “Are you alright, Kento?”

“Just dust,” He mumbles, “It probably got in.”

You hold back a laugh, how mundane, “Here, let me…”

You slowly take his hand away from his face, his eyes shut tight, trying to hold in the pain from the dust getting in his eyes, “Do you mind bending down a bit lower, Kento?” you ask, “I’ll have to blow it out of your eye.”

Nanami follows your orders and bends down. You slowly cup his cheeks and lean in closer to his eyes and softly blow. You notice the slight twinge of his body, the reaction making you inwardly giddy, “Feel better?” you whispered.

The older man opens his eyes and only then do you notice just how close you two were with each other. For a moment, movement around you is slow and you don’t even notice Maki Zen’in standing right in front of you along with Yuta Okkatsu.

“Sensei?”

You finally snap back to reality when you hear that very familiar voice calling you out. It seemed like Nanami had been caught up in the moment too, “Oh,” You cleared your throat, letting go immediately of Nanami’s face and jumping back, “Maki-chan.Yuta-kun. What a surprise.”

The young girl narrowed her eyes while Yuta’s ears were evidently red, signaling that he felt very embarrassed to walk in on that moment, “Hi sensei.” Yuta greets, clearing his throat, “I-uh sorry about that, I told Maki to walk away and-”

“It’s fine, Yuta-kun.” You laugh, a bit nervous. What would happen if she told Yuji and Sukuna about this? You knew how Maki was sort of close with the twins, although she did not know who Nanami was, she may describe him and if the boys were smart enough to catch on with it, you’d be entangled in it pretty quickly and you weren’t ready to meet them as their ‘oji-san’s’ partner. 

You were a bit nervous and it was showing.

Nanami takes quick notice of this and slowly wraps his fingers around yours, a small smile appearing on his lips, “Good afternoon, you must be my partner’s students.” he greets, the man had a way with younger ones, you could only imagine how he was as a father figure to the boys growing up,  “It’s nice to finally put some faces on the kids that Y/N loves to gush about.”

Unlike your nervousness a while ago, this man is calm, cool, and collected. You almost envy him at how good he’s doing this.

“At least you picked someone better than Toji-ojisan.” Maki nods, “This guy looks actually more serious with life than him.”

You feel Nanami’s brow quirk up at what she just said.

“A-Anyways, Sensei…” Yuta clears his throat, “We’ll leave you and your boyfriend together. See you at Math class tomorrow!” He hurriedly grabs Maki’s wrist and zooms away at a speed of light. Leaving you two awkwardly standing there.

“Toji?” Nanami asks, curiously peering at you, “An admirer, I assume?”

“Megumi’s otosan.” You mumbled, embarrassed, “He likes to play jokes and all that. It’s nothing serious.”

“Hm.” he mumbled, a small dismayed look crossed his features and you wonder why, “If he does anything uncomfortable, you can pull my name out. I wouldn’t mind.”

“I’ll be sure to take note of that.” 

You both continue your way down the grocery aisle, not even noticing that he still has his long hand wrapped around yours.

“Y/N-sensei…” Nobara drawled, placing her head on top of the wooden end of the mop, “How come we never knew you had a boyfriend?”

“Oi,” Megumi growled, “You’re supposed to be cleaning.”

“You’re just jealous that Y/N-sensei didn’t get to be your new okaasan.” Nobara bit back, putting her tongue out. You watched as the raven-haired boy chunk the blackboard eraser at her direction, a vein popping in his forehead.

“Stupid,” He replied, “I’d never let Y/N-sensei near the jiji.”

“What’s he like, Y/N-sensei?” Junpei asked, tapping his chin, cutting the argument short,  “I heard Maki-senpai talking about him.”

You watch as Yuuji placed his head on his best friend’s shoulder, “Yeah, she was telling me how older he looked than you.” he exclaimed, you nervously gulped down. Yuuji sure wasn’t helping the situation at all.

“Well,” You chuckled, trying to remain calm and oblivious, “He’s nice and he has kids.”

“Ha.” Sukuna droned, stopping whatever he was doing,  his punishment     despite not being given any by Nitta    was helping the cleaners clean for the whole week, much to his dismay, he had to follow or you’d be giving him a slip, “You’re dating an old man? I thought the reason why you didn’t date the Zen’in-jiji was because he was old and he had kids.”

“Oh.” you looked down on your books on the desk, embarrassed, “I don’t have a problem with kids. In fact, I’d love to meet them.”

“Wah,” Yuuji’s eyes were sparkling now as he hurried in front of you and placed his elbows on top of your table and head on top of his hands, “I hope I really get to meet someone like you, sensei.”

“Stupid, I doubt any sane person would want to go with you.” Nobara said across the room, making Yuuji glare at her and started teasing her.

You chuckled once again at their antics. Meanwhile Sukuna continues to stare at you, eyes narrowing especially at the ring on your ring finger. For some odd reason, it held quite the familiarity.

Yuuji likes to think that Nanamin is the best godfather out there, technically, he was like a father to them already. So he had always wondered why he never got married, he was sure that when they were out a few times, many women would crowd for their ojisan. 

His father’s very close friend, Haibara-ojisan had mentioned one fleeting moment back when he was babysitting them that Nanamin was very secretive on who he liked that even he didn’t know if he’d ever been in a relationship.

But things were different these days, for the past two weeks, he’d have one day wherein he’d go home later than usual. It was odd to say the least    and not like he minded really, they were high school kids after all     since Nanamin hated overtimes.

He mentioned it to Sukuna but his twin just rolled his eyes and said, “Man probably needs to chase the bag or something, he technically is paying for this nice house and two freeloaders here.” 

Yuuji doubted it though! Nanamin earned pretty well and he didn’t really need overtime since he was technically the boss or so he heard from Geto-ojisan a few nights ago.

So while he was making them some katsudon for dinner that night and Yuuji was doing some homework for your class, he decided to ask the question.

“Saaay, nanamin-ojisan…” he drawled, placing his pen down, “You’re coming home a lot later than normal these days…”

The older blonde turns to the younger twin, face still straight-lace and stoic, something that Yuuji was accustomed to, “Work has me by the neck.” he replies shortly.

“Every wednesday’s?” he quips, tilting his head to the side.

“Yes.”

“You aren’t dating anyone?”

Silence erupted between them, the only sound could be heard was the sizzling of the chicken on the pan, “What made you say that?” he asked stiffly and maybe, if Yuuji was ignorant, he wouldn’t have noticed the slight twitch of his brow but he wasn’t.

Yuuji prided himself to be an observant person, someone had said he could pass off to be a detective in the near future, he had the agility and the observation skills (sukuna said otherwise though and said he’d get himself killed if he were to ever enter that field)

“You sometimes have that weird look on your face when you look at your phone.” the boy pointed out, “But Sukuna says you’re just chasing the bag so maybe he’s right, he’s kind of the smarter twin after all.” he mumbles the last part with great disdain.

Nanami lowers the fire on the stove and places his hands on the counter in front of Yuuji, “What if I told you I was sort of seeing someone?” he mused, humoring the young boy. 

“Are you really?” Yuuji’s eyes widened, surprised written all over his features, “What are they like, Nanamin-ojisan? Are they pretty? Do they know about us?”

“Oi what’s the noise about?” Sukuna’s raspy voice cuts through Yuuji’s excited one as he enters the kitchen, hair still wet from the shower and in house clothes with a towel hung on his neck.

“I told you Nanamin-ojisan was seeing someone!” Yuuji yelled, eyes sparkling since he was right this time, he quickly returned his gaze back to the older man, “When do we get to see them? Are they nice? How’d you guys even meet?”

“You’re seeing someone?” Sukuna spat, eyes wide in complete surprise, “How’d you even get someone to stay around with your uptight attitude?”

“Yah!” Yuuji yells, “Nananmin-ojisan is nice with women unlike you, no wonder girls are very scared to approach you!”

“Shut up,” Sukuna grumbles towards his twin then turns towards his godfather, “How the hell did you even meet?”

Nanami just shrugs, telling them they’ll know soon enough as he returns to his cooking. The boys seemed to dislike his answer though and continued to bug him. After cooking dinner and having their fill, he returns to his room and whips out his phone, a text message from you saying, ‘hey, the boys asked me about you earlier. They heard from maki-chan.’

The blonde wonders if he weren’t drunk, would he even consider doing this sort of thing? Dating was really out of the question, he admits he isn’t in the right place to go out with anyone especially with a young person like you. 

He thinks he’s taking advantage of the power-dynamics since he’s older.

He doesn’t even deny how weird it was that you're still hanging around him especially when you had a far richer man as one of your admirers. Satoru may or may not have overhead Yuuji gossiping about you one time and your ‘relation’ with Megumi’s father, it was definitely a small world and judging from the Toji you had mentioned a few days ago, it wasn’t hard to connect the dots that it was actually Toji Zen’in, a member of one of japan’s high business clans.

He shakes his head before pressing the call button, it only takes a few rings until you answered, “Hey kento.” You greeted, “What’s up?”

He hears the sound of a whizzing electric mixer on the other line.

“Boys gave you trouble?”

“No,” he could almost feel the smile on your words, “They were just surprised I liked a man with kids.”

“I reckoned, Yuuji seemed to have caught up too in my side. Been asking why I’m going overtime.” 

Silence settled between you two for a moment and Nanami wonders if you’re scared out of your wits. You might be backing out this deal after testing those waters, “Maybe you should tell me when I could meet them then? We wouldn’t want them to run into us during one of our outings or when we’re fixing up the divorce.” you replied softly.

“Hm,” he mumbled, “I’ll be sure to ask them about that. For a temporary setting, you sure take this matter quite seriously, Y/N.”

“Well, I did say I’d help you out.” 

A small smile reaches his lips as he hears your small and shy voice. It seemed like having people to check up on you by the end of the day wasn’t so bad, after all.

taglist [if crossed out, i can’t tag u ; - ;]

; @coldbookworm  ; @frankenstein852  ;  @neavil  ; @shephard17895  @kristineyoshaii ; @airybnb ; @okachansenpai ; @amortentiaxo ; @rinvtaro ; @franko-pop ; @kozutenshi ; @kaldoesthings ; @moonlitdabi ; @chococroissant ; @bleepop ; @kaldoesthings ; @moonlitdabi ; @chococroissant ; @pettybroccoli ; @nixxona ; @kiyoo-omi ; @omibaby ; @bokkunto ; @peccobagnaia ; @sangwoahbigbussy ; @inu-makki ;  ; @megumiisee ; @softieelorelylove ; @azellianna ; @haruhuiii ; @restless-human67 ; @tsukkisfatsimp ; @taihjj ; @shayiswifey​ ;  @roione​

@Kurok1717 ;  @hcn421 ;  @shinhiromi ;  @airybnb ; @katshuya ; ​@atsuhaya ;  @donotcallagain ; @answerthesirens

[airis-paris14]

See You Again

A/N: Just something short I never posted. It probably sucks, but I thought I'd share anyway. WE OUTSIDE YALL. (Please be outside RESPONSIBLY. COVID is still a thing. Please get vaccinated and or wear a mask.) Love Y'all.

Masterlist

“My King,” Okoye called, handing T’Challa a bag he forgot. “Next week.”

“ I know Okoye. I promise I will be ready to leave.” Okoye nodded before reboarding the jet. The king watched before beginning the short walk up to his friend's front door.

He rang the doorbell before staring up at the building. It’d been years since he’d last been in this apartment. Freshman year of college to be exact. Anaya’s parents had invited him to spend Thanksgiving with them after finding him and their daughter studying together on a surprise visit to their daughter's dorm. They weren’t in the room, lucky for them, but it seemed that her parents were invested in a dream that wouldn’t come true. Not that either of them was ready to admit they couldn’t be together either. At least that early on.

So much has changed since then. They graduated. Got two Ph. Ds respectively and then moved on. Anaya became a celebrated fashion historian and critic, and T’Challa a king. Halfway across the world, they’d reconnected by chance in Paris and hadn’t let go since. Somewhere T’Challa had been holding on to a silly notion that maybe he and Anaya could give being together another go, but he knew it was a fruitless endeavor.

Same as his ringing of the doorbell had been. Worried, the king began knocking on the door. “Quit your racket! She’s not here!” An elderly woman crooned from her front porch. “Pardon?”

“She ain’t here! The baby called.” The woman chuckled to herself, “Ran outta here like a firecracker. Her two friends following close behind.”

“She was pregnant?”

“Don’t know how you missed it sonny, big as a blimp, carrying high though. My bets on a girl you know,” she paused to size up the young king. “And you must be that no good bastard baby’s father. Walking out on her like that you know I should-!”

“Ma’am, I promise you I am not him. As much as I wish I could have been,” the king mumbled the last part.

“Well then now’s your chance son. The real father ain’t here, and I hate to see that child grow up without a father figure. What’s keeping you from claiming that child?”

“A lot more than you’ll ever know..” T’Challa looked up, despair written across his face. The woman's gaze softened. “You’ll never know till you try. At least go and see her. I mean you came to her house. All dressed up with flowers and a bag of gifts. You must really care for her.”

“I do.”

“She’s at the university hospital.” The old woman instructed. “Thank you,” the king nodded. “Anything to see her happy, ever since her parents died she’s been sitting up in that house all alone. Make it right.”

Two hours and four phone calls later, T’Challa pulled up to the hospital in his hired car. The driver opened the back door of the SUV to allow the king and his baby present out into the air. He nodded at the driver before making his way up to the reception desk. “Hi, how may I help you?” The woman looked up from her computer. “You must be looking for our maternity ward. This your first?” She nodded at the gifts. “You could say that,” T’Challa chuckled.

“May I have your name and the patient’s?”

“T’Challa, and Anaya Johnson.”

“Great, Ms. Johnson is in room 408 in the maternity wing. Go down the hall, on the left, there will be an elevator. Take that up to the fourth floor, make a right and it should be the fourth door down. You can’t miss it.”

“Thank you,” the king smiled hoisting up the big teddy bear, careful not to crush the flowers and various other bags. “Would you like an escort Mr. T’Challa?”

“I believe I can handle this one,” The king insisted. “Very well, and congratulations.”

The king frowned. “Thank you.”

Four floors up, and three doors down, T’Challa finally stood outside of room 408. He took several steadying breaths before knocking. “Who is it? A familiar voice called. He heard footsteps on the other side of the door before it carefully creaked open.

“T’Challa?”

The king smiled in surprise. “Tella? Hi.”

“Hey, what are you doing here?” The brown skin woman beamed, opening up the door, her eyes widening slightly as she saw all of the gifts.”She said she hadn’t heard from you in months.”

“Yeah, I was on my way to visit Anaya and her neighbor told me she was here, having a baby.”

“Yeah, um come in. She and Jean went for a walk, the doctor said it would help with contractions.” Tella grabbed the bear from T’Challa and moved to set it in a corner, while he found space to set down his other gifts. “So how’ve you been? We used to get status updates from Anaya for you. Then you just vanished.”

“Well, there is a lot I haven’t told you all. Wakanda is a monarchy, and my father, and his father, and his father, and his mother, and her father, and his mother, and so on, have all ruled our country. Now it is my turn.”

“To rule?”

“To rule.” The king nodded. “So you vanished because you became king?”

“I vanished because there was a coup, an attempt on my life, which was almost successful. The coup sent my country into a civil war,” The king explained.

“T’Challa, this doesn’t even sound real,” Tella interrupted. “I mean, how is anyone supposed to believe you?”

“May I see your phone?” T’Challa stopped her.

“T’Challa,”

“Just let me prove it to you. I did not ghost Anaya by choice. I still want to be with her.”

“After all this time-”

“Please, I know it seems implausible, but let me show you,” the king reached out a hand.

“Fine T’Challa-” Tella handed over her phone. “Ask siri,” the king instructed.

“Seriously?” Tella frowned. “Just ask her.”

“Siri, who is the king of Wakanda?”

Her phone glowed before responding, “T’Challa Udaku was crowned King of Wakanda after the passing of his father last summer during a United Nations Assembly. I found this article online from the New York Times and several other sources.”

“T’challa if this is true, I mean since this is true, the prospects of you and Anaya getting together is now even more impossible. Why are you here?”

“Because she is my friend, and I love her. She is having a baby, and I will support her.”

“You are not its father!”

“Don’t you think I know that? Do you know how much it hurts me to know that I’m not? That I may never be the father of any of her children.”

“This isn’t about you T.”

“I know, but the child’s father is not here. I am. Even if he was, I still would be, because she is my friend too Tella.”

“I just do not want to see her hurt. Don’t give her false hope T’Challa.”

“On the contrary, I believe it is she who gives me false hope,” the king sighed. Tella pulled him in for a hug. “Just give it time, and who knows, you’re a king now aren’t you?”

“That I am,” T’Challa nodded as the room’s door squeaked open. A nurse helped Anaya back into the room and T'Challa couldn’t help the way his eyes widened at Anaya’s pregnant form. His heart erupted in butterflies, imagining if that had been his child. Tella slapping his arm startled him back to reality. Tella jerked her head towards where the nurse was trying to help Anaya and maneuver the IV stand back into the room with her. T’Challa hurried over to wrap an arm around Anaya’s waist and grab her other hand. The nurse smiled in thanks and surprise. No surprise could top Anaya’s expression. She gaped as T’Challa shot her a smile. “Long time no see,” The king teased as he helped her further into the room and onto her bed. A grimace stole her smile as another contraction hit.

“I’ll grab Dr.Ben and she’ll be right in to check on your progress, Ms. Johnson.” The middle-aged black woman smiled at the expecting mother. “Thank you,” Anaya smiled before turning back to her best friend. “What are you doing here?”

“I came to surprise you, only to find out from your neighbor that you were in labor,” The king smiled.

“Mrs. Patterson told you where I was?”

“I guess so,” the king frowned. Anaya and Tella laughed. “What did you do to her? Mrs. Patterson doesn’t like anyone. Especially men.” Tella explained.

“She did almost try to beat me up when she thought I was your ‘bastard baby’s father’.” T’Challa told the two women who groaned. Anaya grimaced her way through a contraction and T’Challa stepped over and offered her his hand. The mother smiled at his touch and threaded her fingers through his as the contraction dissipated.

“I’m gonna go find Jean in the gift shop,” Tella excused herself, leaving T’Challa and Anaya alone. “What’s been going on with you King T’Challa,” Anaya teased as she tried to push herself into a seated position.

“Nothing much. The world of politics cooled off for a while and I wanted to apologize for being awol these past months.” T’Challa helped rearrange the pillows so she could sit up. “What about you soon to be umama?”

“Well, this has been my life pretty much, still don’t know how I’m going to manage working at museums and shows towing this one around.”

“Where’s the father?” T’Challa asked softly. A tear formed in Anaya’s eye, “He doesn’t want to be involved. We were drunk that night and you know…..”

“You don’t have to explain,” T’Challa squeezed her hand. “Thanks,” she murmured. “What are you having?” The king inquired, sweeping some box braids back over her shoulder. “I don’t know. I wanted to be surprised.”

“Your neighbor thinks it’s a girl,” T’Challa laughed. “She’s been telling me about me carrying high since it became visible I was pregnant.” Anaya laughed. “I guess we’ll find out today or tomorrow.” T’Challa chuckled. His face quickly fell as she slipped into another contraction. He tried to help her breathe the way he’d seen on television but ended up making her laugh. “You’re really bad at this,” Anaya reclined back onto her pillows rubbing her stomach absentmindedly. “Thanks for the vote of confidence,” T’Challa smiled. “It’s two quick ones and long out. Not in out in out,” Anaya explained. “I’ll do better next time,” T’Challa promised.

“How long are you visiting, you don’t have to stay. It could be another day or so before I give birth.”

“I’m here for the week, until next Tuesday. And Anaya I want to stay. Besides, I can give Tells and Tonya-Jean a break to walk around.”

“Thanks,” the pregnant mother smiled. Her face contorted as another contraction washed over her. “There you go,” T’Challa soothed as she squeezed his hand. He helped her breathe through and eventually, she settled back. “At this rate, it’ll only be a couple of hours until they’re here with us,” the mom to be sighed. “Then I’ll be here as long as you’ll let me be here,” T’Challa kissed the back of her hand. Sweat had gathered on her forehead and he reached for something to dab it away. “I want you here as long as you can be, distract me.”

“Why? You are not enjoying the miracle of life.”

“Says the man not currently pushing a baby out of his body.”

“Fair enough,” he raised his unoccupied arm in surrender. “Tell me about Wakanda and being a king,” Anaya asked, groaning through another contraction.

“Well,” T’Challa started.

Eight hours later, the room was silent. Tonya and Tells had gone home to catch up on sleep. Anaya was sleeping off her exhaustion and the king of Wakanda sat rocking a sleeping baby girl. Well, she was sleeping. Sydney Iesha Johnson’s big brown eyes fluttered open and stared at the man holding her. She stretched out her tiny body and T’Challa’s heart soared at the feeling of her moving around in the swaddle.

“Hi pretty girl,” he whispered. “Hi,” he cooed, smiling as she yawned. “You are so beautiful, just like your mommy. She was the most beautiful girl in the world and now she’s tied with you.” He rocked the infant softly. “T’Challa?” Anaya croaked. “Hey,” the king stood up and walked the baby over to her mother. “She was fussy in the crib, and the nurse suggested I hold her, I hope you don’t mind,” he rambled. Anaya laid a hand on his arm and shook her head. “It’s fine. I love seeing you with her.

“You know I’m here for you right? Both of you now,” the king searched her eyes. “I know I’m not her father, and I’ll never try to be that for her, but she’s a part of you and that makes her important to me.”

Anaya teared up and nodded.

“I want you to move to Wakanda.”

Taglist: @almostpurelysmut @blackbypurpose @tchoking @sisterwifeudaku @wikiwakanda @royallyprincesslilly @90sinspiredgirl @thedelightfulone @autumn242 @purple-apricots @kumkaniudaku @queertrex @kaciidubs @halfrican-heat @skysynclair19 @dramaqueenamby @leahnicole1219 @kreolemami @mzbritt @derangedcupcake @chaneajoyyy @lalapalooza718 @ororowrites @leahnicole1219 @sarcastic-sunshines @sarahboseman @faatassbitch @lady-love-and-glitter-roses @cxnismajcr @tchallasbabymama

[slytherinbarnes]

Sub Rosa [96]

xii. the stranger

Pairing: Bellamy Blake x reader

Word Count: 4.8k

Warnings: angst, fighting, violence, blood, language.

Summary: faced with the aftermath of bellamy’s betrayal, you finally get a chance to talk to him, only to discover that he may be too far gone.

a/n: i do not know what to say in these notes right now bc i just know yall are cussing me out with every update lmao the taglist for this series is open! I hope you enjoy, please let me know what you think!!!

previous chapter // season masterlist // series masterlist

You sit on the flimsy mattress beside your twin, your hand held tight in her own, both of your expressions contemplative as you try to figure out what the hell is going on. Across from you, Octavia sits on her own bed, looking at you both, a soft laugh slipping from her mouth. You and Clarke lift your gazes to her in tandem, and Clarke looks at Octavia with mild annoyance. “Something funny? Because I don't see anything humorous about this.”

“I’m laughing because I’m realizing just how much I missed the Twinadoes. It’s been so long since I’ve seen you both together.”

Clarke’s expression softens, her curiosity causing her to ask, “How long were you on Penance?”

“We call it Skyring. 10 years, good ones.”

You smile, remembering some of your better memories from Skyring. Cooking with Gabriel, chess with Orlando, braiding flowers into Echo and Hope’s hair. You whisper, “They were.”

Clarke turns to look at you in confusion, unaware of how long you’ve been apart. “You were there?”

“Not with Octavia, Diyoza, and Hope. We came later, the four of us: me, Gabriel, Echo, and Hope.”

“How long were you there?”

“Five years.”

Her jaw drops in shock, “It’s been five years for you?”

You nod and you see tears in her eyes. She drops your hand to pull you in a hug, and you're grateful for it, grateful to be back with your twin, even if it is in a jail cell. “Oh my god, la lune. I’m so sorry, we had no idea or we would have come sooner.”

You shake your head, pulling away to smile at her. “It’s not your fault, Clarke. It was only a few days for you, there’s no way you could have known.”

She looks at you, and you can tell she wants to know more, but she hesitates, not wanting to push you. You read her mind and look between her and Octavia. “It was hard at first. Really hard. The first few months...all I could think about was saving Bellamy and Octavia, and getting back to you and Madi. But over time, Gabriel, Echo, Hope, and Orlando wore me down. I started to warm up to them, and then one day I woke up and I realized that I hadn’t worried about the time at all the day before. I felt guilty about that at first, but once I stopped religiously counting down the days, time went faster after that. It wasn’t so bad in the end. We had peace, and we became a family, sharing meals and stories. And even though I missed both of you, and Bellamy, and Madi and the rest of our family, I was happy.”

Octavia and Clarke can sense that you have more to say, and Clarke reaches out to grab your hand again, prepared to console you. “And then we got here, to Bardo, and it was worse than I could have imagined. Because in the five years it took for us to play house on Skyring, Bellamy was killed here. I let myself relax too much, and he ended up dead. All those years of training...for nothing.”

Clarke squeezes your hand, and you glance at her before looking away, tears welling up in your eyes as you remember the loss you felt three months ago. “I lost it when I found out, which is why I can’t blame Echo for nearly crystallizing us all. She knew how hard all of this has been on us, and she tried to do what she thought was best to make things right again. She went about it the wrong way, but her heart was in the right place. Anyways, I do believe there are good people on this planet, but I know that Cadogan is not one of them. I want nothing more than to get the hell off Bardo. Nothing good has happened to me here, besides reuniting with all of you, and I just want to escape.”

“Me too.”

“Too bad my brother betrayed us to a man he just met.” Octavia sighs, turning her gaze to Clarke. “You know, I was just starting to understand you, but I guess it doesn't matter anymore. We’ll probably be dead soon anyways.”

Clarke’s brows pull together as she looks at Octavia, “Really? How so?”

“You have Madi, I have Hope. I'd do anything to keep her safe.” She scoffs a little, tears welling up in her eyes, and you and Clarke both look at her with concern. “What’s wrong?”

“A couple of days ago, she was just our little girl. Now she's messed up like the rest of us.”

You and Clarke both stand from your bed and move over to Octavia’s, splitting apart to sit on either side of her. Octavia takes one of your hands and one of Clarke’s, and the three of you sit together in silence, sorrow hanging over all of you as you think of the tragedies you’ve all experienced. And as the three of you sit together, the door to your cell slides open and Bellamy steps inside, looking different from the last time you saw him. His hair is cut and his beard is gone, his face clean shaven for the first time in a long time. It reminds you of the Bellamy you first met on the Ark, in more ways than one. Because this Bellamy is just as much of a stranger to you as that Bellamy was.

Bellamy walks inside the room, his white robes flowing, flanked by two guards on either side of him. You look at him in shock and cock your head to the side, masking your hurt with your anger. “You need back up to talk to us now?”

He turns to glance at the guards behind him, waving them out of the room. “It’s okay.”

As they step out of the room and the door slides shut behind them, the three most important women in Bellamy Blake’s life stand, a wall of strength and anger as they look at him. You are the first to break the silence, looking at your fiance in disbelief. “It’s about time. Bellamy, what the hell was that?”

Before he can answer, Clarke adds, “I have been racking my brain, trying to figure out how you telling Cadogan the truth about the Flame helps us. You know what I've come up with? It doesn't.”

Bellamy’s voice is soft, sounding conflicted as he shakes his head slightly. “I couldn't lie to him.”

Octavia snaps, “Really? Why not?”

He glances over at her, then Clarke, then you, relaying his reasoning on his change in behavior. “I had an experience, something that changed me to my core, something that explains why we're still here and where we're going. It came to me in a vision. Mom was there.”

Octavia gives him a weird look, unconvinced, and he continues, “The Shepherd led me to her, and there was a light, and it was beautiful and warm and peaceful, and I chose it. And when I opened my eyes, the storm had passed, just like that.”

You, Clarke, and Octavia share a bewildered look, and you look at your fiance, your anger softening a little as you take in his hurt expression. “Bellamy, I love you, you know that, but this sounds...crazy.”

He turns to you, his eyes widening slightly as he takes in your confused expression. “Natshana, I know how this sounds, but it’s real.”

You flinch a little when he uses the nickname, your brain struggling to see the man you love in the disciple in white that stands before you. He sees you flinch, and a look of hurt passes over his face before he turns to look at all of you again. “A war is coming, the Last War we will ever fight. Win it, and we become the light.”

Clarke snaps, “Is that what the cult leader told you?”

She turns and starts to pace, as Octavia steps forwards and adds, “Did he tell you what happens if we lose?”

“We won't.”

Octavia shakes her head, telling him anyways. “We turn into crystal, wiped out like Medusa, turning people into stone. It's the end of everything.”

“Not everything, just us.” 

“Just us?” You look at him in confusion. “Bellamy, everything we have done, we have done to survive. To help our people survive. And now you’re willing to risk everything on Cadogan’s insistence that we’ll win the Last War?”

He gives you a conflicted look, giving you a flash of hope that maybe he isn't gone forever. But then he pushes it away and looks over all of you, his voice growing louder and more insistent as he tries to convince all of you that him following Cadogan is not as weird as you think it is. “If I told you the AI that destroyed the Earth was storing our minds in the City of Light, would that be any more believable? What about a group of astronauts turning themselves into gods by transferring their minds into the bodies of their own followers in order to live forever?”

Exasperated, Clarke sighs, stopping her pacing to turn to Bellamy and throw her hands up in frustration. “Okay, yes! We've seen our share of crazy, but that doesn't change the fact that fighting some war to become the light is as ridiculous as the clothes you're wearing.”

He pulls a face, hurt by her comment on his clothes, but he pushes past it. “There's one way to find out: tell me where the Flame is.”

Clarke’s denial is firm and resolute. “No.”

“Clarke, yesterday, you were offering it up in exchange for safe passage.”

“Yesterday, I was bluffing! I made a deal to save my twin and my friends, knowing damn well I had no intention of following through with it. Today, I'm standing in front of my best friend, who I thought was dead, and I don't even recognize him.”

His expression is hurt, tears springing into his eyes as he steps closer to all of you, his gaze locked on Clarke. “I am the same person who helped bring you back from the dead, who refused to give up on you. There is so much more at stake here than you know.”

He turns to you, making his final, teary eyed plea to you. “I know you don't believe in transcendence, but I'm telling you it's real, and I am asking you to believe in me.”

You glance at Clarke and Octavia, their expressions letting you know that believing in Bellamy means believing in Cadogan. Something the three of you are determined not to do. Because even though you love Bellamy with all that you are, and you want to believe him, you know that this isn’t right. He betrayed all of you in the blink of an eye for a man that he thought was crazy back on Earth, and you’re worried just how far his devotion to Cadogan will go. You can tell something happened to Bellamy, something changed him, and you’re willing to listen to him to find out what that is, but you’re not willing to support Cadogan.

Which is why you turn back to Bellamy, trying to ignore the tears in his eyes, your voice sounding soft, but regretful. “Even if you're right, even if everything you're saying is true, we will not help that man start his war.”

He looks from you to Clarke to Octavia, seeing if they agree with you. When they make no move towards him, or say nothing to dispute your claim, he shakes his head and looks down at his feet. You can see him visibly recompose himself before he looks back up at Clarke. “Tell me where the Flame is.”

Octavia locks eyes with her brother, asking, “Or what?”

“I’m trying to save you! All of you, but if you don't tell me where it is, they will execute all of you. Please let me help.”

Your eyes widen at the word execute. It's one thing for the three of you to speculate that you're facing death, it’s another to have Bellamy confirm that they're ready to kill all of you if you won’t give them what they want. And despite the shaky intake of breath that you hear Clarke take, her answer to Bellamy’s request is unwavering. “Go float yourself.”

You turn and step back towards Clarke, the sadness in the room shifting to anger again. Octavia gives Bellamy a disappointed look before she turns towards you and Clarke, all of you turning your backs on Bellamy, standing together and comforting each other, waiting for him to leave. But instead of leaving, he sighs and calls out, “Guards.”

The three of you hesitantly turn towards the door, watching as four guards step into the room. Bellamy looks them all over before motioning towards Clarke. “Take this one to M-Cap.”

Clarke gives him an incredulous look, “What?!”

The guards close in on Clarke, and the two of you exchange a panicked look as they grab her arm and start to pull her towards the door. You jump towards her, trying to grab the hand that is reaching out for you. You’re all too familiar with the pain of M-Cap, and it’s not a pain that you want Clarke to experience. “La lune!”

“Clarke!”

As your hand closes around hers, you are pulled backwards by your other arm, one of the other guards in the room stopping you. You turn and punch him, getting him off of you, trying again to run after Clarke. As she is pulled out of the door, you hear Octavia protesting, but she is stopped in place by her brother. You run after your twin, barely making it past Bellamy before you are grabbed from behind and yanked backwards, onto the ground. One of the guards pins your arms to the floor while the other grabs you by the front of your shirt and punches you, pain exploding behind your left eye and cheekbone. They hit you again, blood blooming across your tongue as you accidentally bite down from the force. A third punch smashes your nose, and you're sure you can feel blood trickling down to your mouth, though it’s hard to think much past the pain. 

You can hear Octavia yelling at her brother and Bellamy yelling commands at the guards, but your brain doesn't process them, too focused on the pain in your face. You feel your wrists being released, the weight of someone’s body leaving you, your body now free to roll onto your hands and knees and spit black blood onto the stone floor. You feel a hand on your shoulder and you flinch before Octavia’s soft voice whispers, “La lune, are you okay?”

“I’m fine.” You spit again, pulling yourself to your feet, your anger flaring white hot as you turn towards Bellamy, your earlier sympathy now gone. “What the hell was that?”

He looks over your face, at the blood dripping from your nose, the bruise blooming along your skin, and you can see a flash of worry cross his features as he urges, “You shouldn’t fight them, the Shepherd authorized them to-”

You cut him off, your voice loud, “I don’t care! Bellamy, what are you doing? Letting guards beat me up, sending Clarke to be tortured? This isn’t you!”

He shakes his head, another hurt look on his face. Five minutes ago, you wanted to comfort him through his conflict, hear about what he went through. But right now, your mind thinking of your twin in danger, a danger he sent her to, you want to hit him. You want to punch those puppy dog eyes until they swell shut. But you keep your cool and control your anger as he shakes his head. “It’s not torture.”

You let out a short laugh, pushing your hair out of the way to show him the scar on the right side of your face that runs beneath your level two symbols and into your hairline. “It is if you fight it, and you know damn well she will.”

“All she has to do is tell us where the Flame is, and we’ll let her go. We’ll let you go.”

“No way in hell are we going to give Cadogan what he wants. The Bellamy I love would be right beside me, opposed to doing anything for the crazed cult leader that’s so determined to start a war.”

Bellamy shakes his head, “He’s not a cult leader, and he doesn’t want to start a war. He wants us to transcend, to have real peace.”

“Do you hear yourself? War has never brought us peace, Bellamy. Only death and pain. But let’s say that Cadogan is right, and we do win this war and transcend. Torturing your friends, your family, people you love, watching us be locked up and potentially executed is not the way to do it. Doing the right thing the wrong way isn’t doing the right thing. You know that.”

“I’m trying to save all of you.”

You shake your head at him, in disbelief that the two of you are on opposite sides. After everything with Pike, you were sure that you’d never be on opposite sides again, especially not for something this big, yet here you are. You don't have the energy to argue with him right now, because he clearly believes in Cadogan, or wants to believe in Cadogan, and you’re sure that nothing you say will change his mind. So you turn away from him, shaking your head in disappointment, angrily swiping blood from your nose before muttering, “Get out.”

“La lune, please-”

You spin around and cut him off, your voice loud. “Don’t call me that! My family calls me la lune, and as long as you’re wearing those robes and worshipping the Shepherd, you are not my family, you are my enemy.”

You wait for his face to fall before you snap, “Now get out!”

This time, he obliges, turning away from you quickly, knocking on the door to alert the guards on the other side. As soon as he’s out of your cell and the door is closed, you collapse onto your flimsy mattress, your anger finally giving way to your tears. Octavia crosses the room and sits down beside you, the two of you wrapping your arms around each other and crying as you try to come to terms with who Bellamy is now.

-

A few hours after Clarke is dragged from the cell, your door opens again. You and Octavia stand, expecting it to be her, but instead it is a group of disciples, all of them pointing weapons at you as they demand, “Back against the wall, hands out in front of you!”

You and Octavia do as they say, stepping backwards and pressing your backs to the wall as you hold out your hands. A guard walks over to you and slips a pair of cuffs onto your wrists, a thick metal bar holding your arms apart, before they grab your arm and drag you to the door. You and Octavia are dragged through the halls of Bardo and led to the Stone Room, much to your surprise. As the doors open, you see that your friends are already here, lined up against the wall. Everyone looks at you in surprise, now more injured than the last time they saw you, but you shake off their worry, letting them know you’re okay. 

Octavia is led towards the end of the line, pushed between Hope and Niylah, while you are stopped at the opposite end, pushed between Gabriel and Jordan. Another disciple walks over and places a helmet at your feet before taking one down to Octavia, all of you now standing in a row with disciple helmets nearby, waiting for what’s next. Two disciples stand near the stone, and two more stand near the door, everyone waiting in silence, but Gabriel can't resist the urge to whisper, “Are you okay?”

“Looks worse than it is.” You smirk at him, trying to ease his tension, and he smiles back, right before one of the disciples snaps, “No talking!”

Less than a minute later, the doors to the room slide open. Two disciples stop just outside the door as two more walk inside, taking up their posts. Behind them is Cadogan, followed by Bellamy and the man that is likely replacing Anders, whose name you don't know. Behind them is Clarke, unrestrained, her eyes searching the line of prisoners until her eyes lock with you. Her expression drops at the sight of all of you restrained, but it drops further when she sees the bruise already darkening around your eye. “Why are they still restrained? We had a deal.”

You look at her, your eyes glancing at Cadogan, who has taken up a spot in front of the stone. “Clarke, what is this? What deal?”

“He releases all of us, and I take him to the Flame.”

Bill turns around, his gaze falling to Clarke. “You'll forgive me if I have trust issues where you're concerned.”

He turns to look at the man replacing Anders. “Remove the restraints one at a time. Any violence will be met with lethal force.”

Bellamy looks at you, his expression a warning as he addresses your group. “No one is getting violent. It's a good thing, you're being released.”

The man moves down to Miller first, slipping off his restraints before motioning down to the helmet on the floor. “Helmet on to protect your memory.”

Miller leans down and grabs the helmet, turning to look at Clarke as the Anomaly powers up beside him. “You good with this?”  

She nods, and he pulls the helmet on and allows himself to be led into the Anomaly. All down the line the others are unrestrained and led into the green glow behind Miller: Hope, then Octavia, Niylah. The man skips over Raven, who gives him a strange look, and moves on to Echo, freeing the former spy with a guarded look. “Sending the fighters first, is that it?”

He shrugs a little, “Can't be too careful.”

After Echo is Jordan, and you put your hands out after him, waiting your turn, but the man in front of you steps back, leaving you, Gabriel, and Raven behind, still restrained. Cadogan moves over to the stone and types in a code, the Anomaly closing behind Jordan, leaving the rest of you behind. You glance over at Clarke in confusion, wondering if this was part of the plan, and she gives you a look of worry, letting you know that it’s not. She steps towards Cadogan, a glare on her face. “What are you doing?”

“Ensuring you keep your part of the deal.”

Raven shifts closer to you, glaring at Cadogan as she moves, her lip curling into a sneer. “He didn't send them to Sanctum.”

“Correct.” He turns to look at her, smiling at her, and you want nothing more than to launch yourself at him and wipe the smile from his face. “And thank you for demonstrating why I didn't send you with them.”

Gabriel clicks his tongue, his gaze shifting to his feet before moving back up to Cadogan. “We know how the stone works.”

“Also correct.” You shake your head, confused, because you don't have knowledge of the stone in the way that Gabriel and Raven do. If anything, Echo and Hope know more about the stone than you, meaning they should be here too. Clarke seems to think the same thing, because she looks over at you before her eyes lock with Cadogan’s. “My twin doesn't know about the stone, so why is she here?”

The realization hits you as you look at her, the worry on her face to have you still among the dangers of Bardo. You shift your gaze to the cult leader and deadpan, “I’m an insurance policy. If you don't get him the Flame, I'm assuming that I'm the first to go.” 

Bill turns his condescending smile to you, confirming your suspicions. “Another correct answer.”

You glare at him, your mind on your friends and not your safety. “Where are they?” 

“They're safe, as I promised they would be. I said nothing about releasing them on Sanctum.”

Clarke turns on Bellamy, her anger radiating off of her in waves. “You knew about this?”

Bellamy looks at her, lost, clearly unaware of Bill’s plans, which the Shepherd confirms. “He doesn't know where they are, only I do. I told you, Clarke, I don't trust you. I do, however, trust the love you have for your friends and your twin, and once I have the Key and the Last War begins, they'll all be freed. At which point, each of you will be welcome to fight alongside us, and if you choose not to, well, we'll save you anyway. That is what we mean when we say, ‘for all mankind’.”

He turns, eyes moving over to the new Anders. “Doucette, please release the others, so we can retrieve the Key.”

Doucette walks over to Raven and pulls off her restraints as Cadogan once again opens the Anomaly, this time to Sanctum. Raven leans down to grab her helmet, and Doucette walks over to you next. You stick out your arms, waiting for your freedom, your brain already contemplating all the ways you’re going to get Clarke and the others out of this, when Bill’s voice calls out, “Not her.”

You look around the disciple to stare at the cult leader in shock. “What?”

“Your restraints will remain on, Miss Griffin. You killed 10 disciples in our oxygen farm, attacked First Disciple Anders before his death, and have assaulted countless guards since arriving on Bardo, two of them earlier today. I trust you even less than I trust Clarke, which is why you will remain restrained and at my side.”

From across the room, Bellamy speaks for the first time since your friends were sent away, his expression concerned as he looks at his leader. “Sir, I don't think that’s really necessary.”

“And I think it is. I’m sure you're aware of what she’s capable of more than any of us.” Bellamy’s expression drops a little, his mind clearly playing through an assortment of memories in which you fight or kill anyone that gets in your way. Cadogan notes his expression, stating with a nod, “That is why I’m keeping her restrained.”

You roll your eyes and drop your hands, accepting that, for now, your restraints will stay on. You're hesitant to push Cadogan in this moment, when everything is so tense and you’re surrounded by a room full of guards. You’re less concerned about your own safety and more concerned about the others, not wanting to do anything that’ll put Clarke or your friends in danger. You glance over at your twin, and you can tell that she wants to argue, but you shake your head at her, telling her you’re fine, you’ll be okay, and that none of this is as bad as it seems. You see her sigh a little before accepting the message, leaning down to pick up her own helmet. 

You grab your helmet as Gabriel is freed, and Cadogan turns and begins to give orders. “Disciples, I want most of you ahead of us. Weapons hot, remain in ghost mode, and take down anyone that is armed. Bellamy and Doucette will go ahead of me and the troublesome twin, and then Gabriel, Raven, and Clarke will bring up the rear, along with the remaining disciples. Is that clear?”

Everyone mumbles their assent and agreement, and you are pushed across the room, over to Cadogan’s side. You glare as you look at him, Bellamy moving past the two of you to stand in front of you, and you shift your glare to the back of his head. Because he barely fought for you. He seems more than content to leave you chained up like an animal. You hope he can feel your anger as Cadogan directs everyone to pull their helmets on, which you do clumsily, thanks to your restraints, and you hope Bellamy can feel your anger when you all step into the Anomaly and come out the other side on Sanctum. 

Except, instead of appearing in Gabriel’s tunnel under his camp, you’re in the palace, surrounded by armed guards. Russell is sitting on a throne made of skulls, wearing Grounder clothes, and you look around in confusion as you reach up to tug your helmet off. Clarke does the same thing, speaking the thought on all of your minds as you look around the room in confusion. “What the hell happened here?”

Murphy, who you didn't notice until this moment, is sitting across from Russell, his hands restrained, a chessboard in front of him. He smiles a little as he takes in the arrival of your group, but it drops at Clarke’s question. He glances briefly at Russell before deadpanning, “Oh, gee. Where to begin.”

You look around the room again, at the chaos that has apparently ensued since your departure, and you glance over at Clarke, wondering if it was like this when she left. But given the expression on her face and the confused look that she turns towards you, it wasn't. Which means your people managed to ruin not just Bardo, but Sanctum too. You can only hope that things here aren't that bad, though as you look towards Russell again, you're not sure that’s the case.

But nothing can be as bad as your time on Bardo, right?

-

next chapter

[normal-thoughts-official]

The world keeps spinning (it really shouldn't)

Vance did it. He defeated Josephine, saved his grandpa and Elliot, and saved the town. Everything's fixed.

No. Everything is awful. He failed, and now his friend- now Tom is gone.

And he'd rather fight Josephine all over again, because it'd be easier than what he has to do now- tell Andy about it.

Fandom: It Lives (Visual Novels)

Relationships: Andy Kang/Tom Sato, Danni Asturias/Imogen Wescott, (dannimogen is background and very brief but i couldn't resist), Andy Kang & Ava Cunningham & Lucas Thomas & Lily Ortiz

Additional Tags: tom dies and everything is awful, Angst, Grief/Mourning, Friendship, for basic context im going with the version of ILITW that i got, which is that everyone survived and noah took jane's place, and then for ILB i did the version where tom dies obviously, (which is not the version i got), (everyone survived), (i feel the need to say this for my own ego), but anyway i was like what if tho. andy would be devastated, and then... this happened?, only difference from canon is that ILITW MC told everyone about noah a lot before, also like. imma be real with yall, im physically uncapable of giving my MCs serious names, so ILB MC was named That Bitch and i didnt want to give him a real name, cuz it felt like betrayal, so im just calling him vance for this one, is it his nickname? is he called vance vance? dont worry about it, Anyway that's it, Pining, you know. before the death part. it's mentioned, also we're ignoring the whole richard tries to murder MC thing, cuz i dont have time for that, so pretend ILB ended on chapter 17, Hopeful Ending, considering the theme i mean

Read it on Ao3

The city of Westchester looks exactly the same, but somehow feels a lot less wholesome, now. Vance walks in it and feels like a corpse among the living, like a ghost screaming to everyone that something's wrong. And being ignored.

It shouldn't look the same, without Tom.

But no one knows, yet.

He swallows, running a hand behind the nape of his neck. That's why he's here, anyway - they should know, they deserve to know, and he doesn't want to have the funeral without Tom's friends there.

Which is why he's going to tell Andy. Himself, in person. Because he might not know him very well, but he wants to do the right thing, and that's the least Andy deserves. He knows there's no one Tom loved like he did Andy, and from what he's seen of them together, the feeling was mutual.

He has to do this. But he feels sick, just thinking about that bond, and how it was ruined.

How could he let this happen to them?

He was so cocky, so stupid, so reckless... He thought everything would turn out okay. Assumed it would, even, because it kept getting him through it, to think that everything would turn out fine.

God. What a joke.

He walks into the little diner Andy had recommended. I'm sure you've heard of that place, Tom loves it, he had texted. We always went there to celebrate our wins back in high school. His stomach had churned, but he didn't say anything, because he wasn't going to tell Andy via text. He has to do this right. It's the least he owes him.

So he pretended that everything was fine, and agreed to meet him there. Woke up, and dragged himself to the place, trying to muster up the courage to face the world that seemed to not even care about his mistakes.

When he gets to the diner's door, he takes a deep breath, trying to ground himself for what he's about to do. Face his own mistakes. Face the pain he caused when he failed them both.

He walks in, and to his relief, and despair, Andy is already there. He smiles brightly when he sees Vance, and Vance wants to disappear.

"Vance! Nice to see you, dude. I heard about what went down in Pine Springs, glad you're okay," he says, not giving time for Vance to answer before continuing, this weird sense of calm and sympathy about him. "So, I assume you still need help with that ghost? From what I've seen in the news, it seemed like you handled it pretty well, but it's not like they are giving us supernatural updates or anything, so I figured there were still some loose ends to tie. Are the other guys coming? Where's Tom?" he looks over behind Vance, and Vance wants to die at the question. God, how is he going to tell him? He didn't really think about that, beyond the part where he has to. "I kind of thought you'd come together again. Bad move to come separated, Tom is always late to everything, I swear if it weren't for me he'd have been kicked out of the team for missing practice too many times. And I'm not the most punctual guy in the world, mind you, but I still had to drag his ass there so he'd be on time- is everything okay?"

Vance is a little shocked by the question. It's not, but what is he supposed to answer? "Andy," he says, a little careful, "things… went a little wrong, back there."

"Oh, shoot," he says, "I'm sorry, man, I kinda assumed, when I heard about how the flooding and the animal attacks were in full swing and then just stopped suddenly, that that was when you got rid of the ghost, you know? And seeing you all in one piece… I thought it was over already. Do you need help? I can round up the guys, and we can go-"

"No, Andy," Vance says, "the ghost is gone."

Andy looks at him, confused. "Then what's the problem?"

"Tom," he says, then winces when he sees all the color drain from Andy's face.

Andy waits for barely a second, then breaks into anxious questioning. "Tom? Why? What do you mean? Is he hurt? How bad is it? Did he have to go to the hospital? Where is he?"

Vance wants to cry. God. God. He can't do this. "Andy..."

Andy just looks at him, eyes wild, terrified, and it hasn't even hit him yet. "Vance. Vance. Please. What happened? Does Tom need me? Because if so, we need to go-"

"Tom's gone," he says, and it leaves him in a rush, a whisper, taking with it the last of his energy. He's empty, and somehow, it's still awful. "He's… he's dead, Andy."

Andy looks at him, eyes wide, unfocused, lost. "This isn't funny," he says. "If Tom put you up to this, knock it off right now. Tell him not to ever joke about-"

"Andy," Vance says, then swallows. "Tom wouldn't joke about that. You know that."

"No, he wouldn't, but..." His eyes begin to water, panic settling in, gaze darting across the room as if searching for him, "But… No. No. No, knock it off."

Vance starts crying before Andy does. "I'm sorry, Andy."

--------

Andy is in shock. He freezes in place, mouth hanging open, everything about him completely still except for his eyes, still so damn wide, still searching the place, searching Vance, begging for something, anything. Vance sits him back down on the table, gently, and Andy lets himself be handled back, eyes still not settling on him.

"I'm sorry," Vance says. "I… I promised you that I would take care of him. I tried, but… I'm so sorry."

"How?" he asks, "how could this happen? This isn't… After Redfield, when everyone survived, I just… I didn't think any of us could lose to another monster, I..." He shakes his head, vigorously, desperately. "This was supposed to be over. We were done, we were free, it was supposed to be over, we were all supposed to be safe, it shouldn't..."

"I'm sorry. It all happened so fast, I… If I had been faster, maybe..."

"Well, it's a bit late for that now," Andy snaps, and Vance bites his lip, not recoiling, because he deserves it. Then Andy stops, as if realizing what he had said, and for a second, his eyes seem clear again. He shakes his head. "No. I'm sorry. I… If there's anything I've learnt from everything that happened, it's that we can't point fingers when things get hard." He finally looks up at Vance, shaking, eerily still, nothing like the guy he was just seconds ago. He's wrecked, Vance thinks, and he wants to tear at himself in guilt. "What happened? Did he- did he drown, or… Did the ghost..."

"We were fighting monsters," Vance explains. "There were just… So many of them, and it all happened so fast, I..." he looks away, not daring to look back at the memory, not daring to remember the awful scene. As if he has to. Everytime he closes his eyes, it's back, punishing him. "We got his body," he explains. "Pine Springs is taking the victims to mass graves, but we wanted to give him a proper burial. I thought… You'd want to come."

Andy seems surprised, like that hadn't crossed his mind. "You haven't buried him yet?"

Vance bites his lip. "No. We're doing it tonight. We didn't have the time before, and… Well, I thought you'd want to be there. And I think he'd have wanted his body to be in Westchester, so..." He trails off.

Andy looks at him, hesitant. He bites his lip, looks away, then back at him. "Can I see the body?"

Vance does recoil, this time. He wasn't expecting this question. "I… You won't want to."

"What do you mean, I won't want to? I need to say goodbye to him, I-"

"Andy," he says, as gently as possible, because he deserves Andy's anger, all of it, but he won't let him do that to himself. "You won't want to remember him like that. His body…" He looks at Andy's eyes. He's still furious, livid, shaking, and he's lost, and Vance realizes that he doesn't get it, doesn't understand what Vance is saying, and this might be even worse than having to tell him Tom is dead. "It's torn to pieces, Andy. There's not much for you to see."

Andy freezes, for the second time that day. "Was he- oh, god," he looks at his own shaky hands, somehow even more in shock than before. "Was it… At least, was it quick?"

Vance starts crying again. He opens his mouth to answer. He can't. He chokes on the words, on his guilt, on his uselessness. "I'm so sorry, Andy."

------

Andy throws up. Once, twice. He doesn't insist on looking at the body. Obviously, he can't. Just imagining it- it's too much.

He tries to comfort Vance, because he- he's trying to do better, with his anger, with his impulsiveness, but all he can think about is how much he wants to destroy something, and honestly, the whole conversation is a blur. He punches the wall instead, once he gets home. And throws up. Again and again. Sends his friends a message, letting them know about the funeral. Cries. Punches the wall again. And again, and again, hoping that his hands will start to bleed, that he'll tear himself apart. His mom asks what's got him so angry, and he yells, "Tom is dead!". Her face twists in shock, and he can't look at it. He runs away.

Being back outside is almost worse. Everything- it should be in shambles. The whole town, the whole world should be on fire, fizzling, filled with screams and despair, like Andy is. He's never lived in a world without Tom before, never been away from him his whole life, and it shouldn't look like it's just the same. Everything should be gone, destroyed. And it is, but it doesn't look that way, and Andy wants to tear it all apart until it makes sense, at least.

He hates Westchester now. He hates it. God damn the stupid woods, and the stupid cult, and the fucking Power! God damn Andy for telling Tom about it, for letting him become this sort of- monster hunter, for believing that just because they overcame a ghost once, it would keep happening if they pushed their luck.

This wasn't supposed to happen.

Tom can't be dead. It's impossible.

How can Andy still be standing, if Tom isn't here?

---------

He wanders like that the rest of the day, not noticing the hunger that builds up after going a whole day without eating, not noticing the passersby looking at him worriedly, not noticing the thousands of missed calls from his mom, not noticing anything but this awful despair. He knows the feeling of wanting to claw his chest off intimately well, but it's never been like that before. He wants to carve himself hollow. He wants to scream. He wants to run. And he runs from the all-encompassing nothingness, even though he has nowhere to go.

He goes from angry to empty, and then back to angry, all day long, and the day passes in a blur.

--------

Andy meets up with Vance and two girls from their crew. Their group was pretty small, he realizes. A lot smaller than Andy's was, all those years ago. Three years ago. Forever ago. Another lifetime. Just yesterday.

The cemetery is empty, but there's a grave with a black casket they're standing next to. "I thought all the cemetery crew was helping Pine Springs," he says, like he cares. Honestly, he hadn't thought about the logistics of this at all.

"They are," Vance confirms, serious. "You, uh… You know about Noah, right…?"

Andy nods. "Yeah, we, uh, reintroduced ourselves to him a little after you guys left." It was weird, to say the least. All that anger, all that betrayal, bubbling up again right when they had all started to move on from what had happened, to think that it was over… The urge to scream at him, demand answers… And then seeing all the hurt, and the confusion, and remembering that they had loved Noah, once, most of their lives, and that at the end of the day, the only one who had suffered from his actions was himself.

It wasn't easy to forgive. Not to Andy. Or Stacy. Or Ava. But they had been working on it. Maybe they couldn't forgive, much less forget, but at the same time, they couldn't get rid of that bond, either.

Still… "What does this have to do with… With Tom?" If Noah had anything to do with his death, Andy would kill him all over again. He doesn't care about his freaky powers, he'll die if he has to, but Noah will pay.

"He, uh, helped. Dig the grave and, uh, get a casket. That's how we got everything ready."

Oh. "I… I see," he says. "Is he here?"

"No. I told him you guys were coming, and he said it was better if he left."

"Oh," Andy answers. "I guess that's… Yeah. Still..." he raises his voice a little bit, in the direction of the woods. "Thank you, Noah."

He doesn't see or hear anything, not really, but still, somehow, he can tell that Noah is pleased. He can picture Noah's smile and that fragile little "friendsss..."

He sighs, suddenly exhausted.

Vance seems to notice, god bless his soul. "Are the others coming?", he asks, gently.

"Lily, Lucas, and Ava are," Andy replies. "The rest were out of town, and they… They won't make it."

"I'm sorry."

Andy kicks a pebble. "It's fine," he says. It's the kind of lie that's so absurd that it becomes true. Nothing is fine. It'll never be fine. So it doesn't matter at all, and it ends up being fine.

Vance seems to realize what's going through his head, somehow, because he looks unsure of what to say. Finally, he settles on, "uh, Andy. These are Danni, and Imogen," he says, gesturing to each of them, and Andy musters up enough energy to look at their faces while he does that, at least. Then, his eyes widen for a second, finally taking in what they look like.

"Wait, you're Imogen Wescott?" he says, a little dumbfounded. "When I heard that name, I kinda expected you to be, you know..."

"White and insufferable?" Imogen asks, a little smile directed at him, so gentle he can barely handle it. "Yeah. That's why I'd rather go by Genny, usually."

Danni frowns at her, slightly troubled. "You never told me that."

Imogen's smile turns a little brighter. "Oh, no, not for you, Danni. For you, I'd rather go by 'babe'".

Danni also smiles at her, and they squeeze each other's hands, and the edges of grief seem to turn just a little softer for them both. Andy can tell that things get just a little easier for them, just a little less grim, because they have each other. And he needs to look away, wants to run, because he and Tom… They could've… In a way, they were...

He feels like he's ready to run again. God, he fucked up so bad. What was he supposed to do now, how could he get better when the one thing in the world that always made him feel better was Tom? He lost him, he's gone, it's over, and somehow it hadn't hit quite the way it did at that moment, looking at that connection, that love that showed through grief. He averts his eyes, feeling wild and cornered, and turns back right in time to almost run into Lily - who looks devastated, and reaches out to touch his arm. Which feels crazy, because Andy is raw, and his whole body is bleeding, and rotting away, and who would touch him-

"I'm so sorry, Andy." She says, and Andy finds himself hugging her tight, and he feels like she should wither, die at his touch, suffocate, but she just hugs him back and pats him and Andy cries on her shoulder, and he's never cried in front of her before, much less like this. But he can't stop, he can't do anything, he's so heavy and dizzy and lost-

And Lily is stronger than they give her credit for, because she holds him, this endless weight that is him, even when he shakes and stains her sweater with tears, like it's nothing. She feels so solid, right then, the only solid thing in the world. She's got him, Andy knows, and it's like finally he ran into something he can take shelter in. He takes a deep breath, then another, and holds on for dear life.

"I'm sorry," is the first thing he says, maybe the only thing he knows how to say right now. Maybe this is how Jane felt, in the end - this endless spectre of regret, bigger than everything, than everyone, encompassing her and drowning her until it ate her whole and left her empty, with only the Power and its evil inside her.

He's so tired, but he's not empty, not yet.

He almost wants to be.

"Don't apologize," Lily says, so sad and sympathetic, and it takes Andy a moment to realize what she's even talking about. "I'm really sorry, I..."

It's only then that Andy's eyes focus enough to see Ava and Lucas standing a little after her, their faces twisted with sadness and bodies frozen in place. At times like this, it really is obvious that Lily is the bravest out of all of them, by far. Andy doesn't think he's ever cried in front of any of them, and Lucas and Ava look- completely lost.

Lucas is the first to talk, out of them both. His voice is very soft. "Andy, if there's anything you need..."

Ava interrupts, words leaving her way too fast. "We'll be staying with you tonight." She blinks for a second, frowning at Lucas. "Sorry, I, uh, hadn't realized you were talking." She looks like she just came out of a daze. She probably had been running that in her head for a while. Lucas puts his hand on her shoulder, and Ava runs a head on her neck, embarrassed.

"It's okay," Andy answers, even though her apology wasn't directed at him. "You don't have to, you know, watch over me or..." He trails off.

"We're not leaving you alone," Ava says, resolute. "You know the others couldn't come, but we all agreed that we should be… You know..."

Andy chokes on something he can't quite feel. He looks down at his feet, and he hasn't felt this small in years. "I… Okay."

Ava reaches out to him, hesitant, and gives him a little pat on the shoulder. Lucas starts rubbing his back soothingly, and, very awkwardly, they gravitate into a group hug. Andy can see the nervousness in Ava's eyes, the worry that she's doing this wrong somehow, like a hug is the most complex thing in the world, and he tries to muster up a little smile of encouragement to her, but he's forgotten how to do that. He doesn't know how to do anything, anymore.

Slowly, they separate, and all three of them still keep some sort of touch with Andy - even Ava, with her hand close to his shoulder - like they're trying to anchor him, but he drifts away anyway, lost in whatever it is that's left of himself.

Vance looks down at him for a moment, as if waiting for a signal, but Andy doesn't know for what, so he waits for Vance to figure it out. Finally, he says, "should we start?"

Andy frowns. "Wasn't there some other guy with you? Pork something?"

Vance, Imogen, and Danni all look at each other, uncertain, surprised, for a moment. It's Imogen who speaks up. "He… He left us."

Ava swallows. "Did he also..."

"No," she says, shaking her head, sadly. "He, uh, deserted the group."

"He what?" Someone asks, shocked, almost outraged, and when Andy sees the looks in everyone's faces, he realizes that it was him.

"He couldn't take it," Vance says, face twisted with sadness. "All the fighting, the monsters… He left."

Andy is shaking. Falling apart. About to explode. "When?"

Vance doesn't look at him. "Right before the final battle."

"He abandoned you when you were going up against the evil ghost?"

"He..." Vance begins, then finds that he has nothing else to say. "Yeah."

"How…" Andy begins, lost for words, and then it happens. He explodes. "How dare he!" He screams. "Tom was counting on him, he trusted him, he needed him, and he just left? He should have been there! He should have been there, he should," Andy looks at his own hands, in shock, watching them tremble and go out of focus, like there are tears blocking his vision, and he feels sick, on the verge of death, and he realizes that he's not talking about that guy at all. "He should have been there!" He slips from his own control, falling to his knees, covering his face, feeling shame, shame, shame, hatred, disgust. "He should… I should… Oh God, I just let him go alone..."

"Andy..." Someone says. Maybe Lucas. Maybe Lily. Maybe the Imogen girl. It sounds so sympathetic. He wants to claw at his own skin and hide.

"I should have been there, I shouldn't… I had experience, what was I thinking..."

"Tom didn't want you to go," someone else says, gently. "I was there when you talked, remember? You didn't abandon him. You said you were going to come, and he told you not to."

"Tom.. Tom is not my damn boss," Andy answers, still covering his face, feeling the tears stop spilling and start to drown him from the inside, and god damn T, the least Tom deserves is for him to be able to cry properly- "I-I should have… gone," he chokes, shaking.

The next one who speaks is Ava. "He wouldn't have wanted you to be at risk, Andy."

"I don't care. I don't care. I'm selfish like that, I'd rather it was me. I could have helped him, I could have saved him, even if I had to- to take his place..."

"Andy..." is all Ava says, sounding shaken, devastated.

"Fuck!" He screams, punching the ground beneath him as if trying to punish the earth for taking Tom. "He would have never left me like that, I could always count on Tom, I could always..." he feels his chest constrict, or maybe burst, with all the tears and horror inside of him, like he's cracking from the inside. "Always..." he can't form the words, can't find the air, and he falls in on himself, more, more, more, closing in, suffocating, "always..." he can't breathe. He can't breathe. He tries to draw it in, to keep himself steady, but every time he tries to bring it in, the air escapes from him again, further, abandoning him, and he wheezes, again, again, closing in further, suffocating, oh God, he's going to die…

"It's a panic attack!" Someone screams, then kneels beside him, putting their hands on his shoulders. "Andy. Andy. Focus on me. You need to breathe. Deep lungfuls. Come on. I'll count to four. Keep breathing in. 1… 2..."

"Can't," he wheezes. It's too strong, like there's something… Something constricting his chest, inside and outside, and then he realizes… "Binder." He sits down straighter, no longer closing in on himself, and that awful vulnerability gets even worse, but it's easier to breathe. He follows the person's counts… 1, 2, 3, 4… Then up to five, then to six, then to seven, then eight… Until finally he doesn't need help, and he opens his eyes and contemplates the absolute mess that he is, and Imogen's kind, relieved face just inches from him.

"Good, Andy, you did well… I have these sometimes, too, I know how scary they are, you were so brave..." Imogen keeps on saying, painfully understanding, and he nods, a bit exhausted to explain. He didn't take his binder off all day, didn't remember… And if he wears it for too long, he's more prone to hyperventilating, especially if he's stressed. Tom knew that. Tom would have known what was going on. Tom… Fuck.

"I'm sorry," he says, to everyone, and no one in particular.

"Don't apologize. We're all glad you're okay," Lily says, and he realizes that, somehow, she had also kneeled beside him and brought him into another hug. He hides his face on her shoulder, shaking his head, trying to breathe. Breathing. She pets his head, a little bit, and he can feel some more touch, too - little pats on his shoulder and back, all gentle, not crowding him, like he's some sort of wild animal they're trying to calm down.

God, what a mess.

He holds Lily tighter, wanting to hide from the world. She lets him, because it's the kind of person Lily is. He feels himself drift away, for a while, but Lily's still petting his head and he can't lose himself completely. He shakes his head, wanting to fight it, almost wanting to get away from Lily, but he can't escape the gentleness in her embrace. He still can't cry, but he feels his eyes water and burn anyway, and he shakes his head against Lily's shoulder. He just wants this to be over. Please, he's so exhausted.

His breaths even, despite himself, but Andy keeps shaking, and he keeps shaking his head slightly against Lily. He wants this to end, it has- has to be a nightmare…

"Shh, Andy, don't hold it in, it's okay," Lily says, slowly, sadly, and Andy shakes his head more vigorously. No. He can't be weak right now, it's only going to make it last longer. He needs to end it, can't be done with this until Tom has gotten his goodbyes.

It's the least Andy owes him, now that there's nothing else he can do.

So, he speaks up.

"We should go on," he says, suddenly feeling resolute. It's easier to do this if he has something to focus on. He needs to see this through the end, for Tom. If he thinks only about that...

"Are you sure?" Vance asks, hesitant.

Andy nods, forcing his vision to focus. "He needs to rest."

----------

Everyone's speeches go by in a blur. Vance talks about how good Tom's heart was, how he was willing to drop everything to go help a bunch of strangers, how everyone could always count on him. He cries, and he says he's sorry, and the girls put their arms around him, tell him that he did his best. Imogen brings up how kind he was, and Danni talks about his strength. They really loved him, Andy notices, and feels his heart settle just a little bit. He was loved till the end. Of course he was.

Lucas talks about how supportive Tom was, how he was always uplifting everyone around him and would let Lucas babble on about conservation for hours. Lily brings up how much he believed in her and supported her when she was making her videogames. Ava says that Tom was the only one who ever saw her looking up Westchester's history and cults and just… Sat down with her and helped, understanding that she needed this to feel safe, to feel ready, and sharing that burden of getting ready for a disgrace, just a little bit. Andy never knew that Tom had been joining Ava for research. He could've helped with that, too. He could have done a lot of things, if he had paid more attention.

He's left for last, and a part of him wants to be a coward, to stay silent, but that was never his style.

"When Tom had turned into a zombie," he begins, "Redfi- Jane made him hurt me. And I wasn't worried for myself. I was worried for him. I wanted him back, no matter what it took, no matter what happened to me," he begins, not looking at anyone in particular, because he knows most of them already know this story, but he's not going to- he's not going to deny Tom the chance to know how he felt about him, before he rests. It's the least Andy owes him.

So, he takes a deep breath and goes on, pushing himself into saying something that matters.

"Then our friends showed up, and they said that Tom was still there. That I had to reach out to him. So I tried. I talked to him about our childhood. About how much he had been supporting me… How he was my best friend. He was hesitant, but so… Scared. I didn't know what to do. Tom and I always got each other..." He loses himself a little, shaking his head, purging the thoughts that were keeping him from going on, "And then someone said, 'Andy's hurt. H-he needs help'." He loses focus for a second, and that can't happen. He takes a breath, tries to make himself talk. "And just like that… Tom came back.

"He extended his hand to me, and helped me to my feet, and suddenly there was color in his face again, and for a second he wasn't even confused as to what the hell was going on, he just wanted to make sure I was okay. He came back because I needed him. Because he couldn't bear to hurt me. He was always there for me, and I… I don't think I ever needed him more than right now."

He stops a minute, to look at the faces surrounding him. There's a grief in them that looks almost like… Pity.

And Andy isn't even mad about it. He feels pitiful.

"I'm not the best guy with words," he admits, "so I don't know how to express how much this meant to me, or how much Tom meant to me. No one understood me like him. Tom is… Was… No, is a part of me. Maybe the best part of me, because I loved him more than anything else about myself. I'll miss him for the rest of my life." He looks down at Tom's grave, carved out of anything else to say. "I love you, buddy."

It's not the greatest speech that's ever been given, but it's what he can say, and at least he's done it. He'll be able to do better, later. He'll come back to talk to him again. As many times as he can, for as long as he can. He swears on that.

Andy steps back from the grave, and doesn't look as they slowly fill it, covering the closed casket with dirt. He finally allows himself to let the exhaustion catch up with him, and is overcome by that blissful, blissful emptiness.

---------

He's fully expecting himself to drop asleep as soon as they get to Ava's place. They decided to stay there for the night, because Andy still doesn't want to face his mom, to see that same grief in her, for her to want to talk to him, to tell him that everything would be fine. He can't do that, not today. At least Lucas had enough foresight to warn her of where they are, so she should leave him alone for now. Lucas is very reliable in a crisis, Andy thinks, making a note to himself to thank him properly later.

But he can't sleep. He's too exhausted to even rest. And for some reason, even though he doesn't want to talk, that's exactly what he found himself doing for the past few hours. Vomiting up all sorts of memories and thoughts, ranging from funny moments he had with Tom to all of his regrets, and Andy's always been kind of a stress-talker, but it's never been like this. He feels like he's been skinned alive; there's nothing to hold himself together, to hold anything at all in.

He cries all the tears he didn't think he had left in him anymore, and he curses himself, and the guy who left them in the end, and Noah, and the Power, and the cult, and himself again. He scratches his own skin until Lucas gently takes his hands in his, stopping him from doing more of it. And he talks, through all of that. Talks and talks and talks.

The words make him drift through memories, through states of mind, and he knows he's so damn volatile today, it's like he can't anchor himself to a feeling, but his friends put up with him anyway.

Finally, he starts to settle into this sort of… Slowness, like his mind is clear, or maybe blank, even as he keeps on thinking. And he keeps talking through it, letting all the minor regrets have their turn after he's too damn done to keep dealing with the worst parts.

"I never told him I was in love with him," Andy says, staring at the three empty mattresses in front of him, because it's easier than looking at any of his friends, who are currently sitting right beside him, as he babbles on. "I was going to, you know? After R- Jane. I had almost died, so I figured, you know- yolo, and all that. And then I told myself, 'I'll wait until I'm out of the hospital.' And then I started to think… What if he didn't feel the same way? What if things got weird? What if I end up losing him? And I never told him," he looks at his own feet, "and now I lost him anyway."

They all just look at him. They used up all the "I'm sorry, Andy"s left in them a long time ago, he thinks. There's only so many platitudes you can muster up when you know they're worthless, when you're just repeating yourself.

God bless them for trying, though. They're sticking with him through their own- everyone's inadequacy to deal with what's going on. Andy can't thank them enough for that.

"He knew you loved him," Ava says, serious, and Andy frowns at her, doubtful. "He might not have known you were in love with him, but… He knew how much he meant to you. I'm sure of it."

Andy laughs, humorless, "did you finally get those mind reading powers you wanted?" he says. It falls flat, but they pretend it doesn't, for his sake.

Ava rolls her eyes. "Don't be an ass, Kang," she says. "No. I just… I can tell. Anyone can."

Andy bites his lip, looking away.

She presses on, as gently as she can. "Besides, you also know, don't you? Regardless of anything else… Tom loved you, just as much as you loved him."

"I still love him," Andy says, before he can think about it, and a weird kind of shame creeps up on him - for saying it, for not saying it sooner, for realizing that this… It'll probably never go away, even now that it's completely pointless, that it's just proof of his cowardice.

"That's… Normal," Lily says, fiddling a little with her sweater. "You don't forget someone just like that, just because something happened. I mean, look at me and Britney. It took me years to get over her, and even then, I had to have supernatural forces show me exactly who she was, first."

"She didn't deserve you," Ava says.

"Maybe not. It doesn't matter now," Lily says. "The point is… It's okay to still love him."

Andy hugs his knees. "I don't think anything is okay, right now."

"That's okay, too."

They stay in silence for a moment, and then Lucas speaks up. "I know 'it gets better' stories don't really help at times like these," he says, "so I won't tell you that, but… I know what it's like, to feel like nothing will ever be okay, ever be enough. So… At least you're not alone, in that feeling."

Andy's mouth does something. It's not a smile, but it's what it can do right now. "Yeah. At least it's not like last time," he says. "With Jane. We all fell apart, and… It felt really lonely, even though..." He chokes up. "I had Tom."

Lucas rubs at Andy's shoulder sadly, and Andy shakes his head.

"It's just that he didn't get it, you know? And I couldn't tell him, about what happened," he says, instead of thinking about how much worse this is, no matter how many friends he has by his side right now. "So I… Missed you guys." He finishes, ashamed.

"We get it," Ava says, solemn. "And we're sticking with you, this time around."

"Yeah," Lucas agrees.

"Yeah," Lily adds.

"Okay," Andy answers. "I… Thanks."

They hug him tighter. It's all they have to say.

[starlightkenobi]

can i get a master anakin x Padawan reader and maybe the sexual tension between them has been growing and then he finally snaps he’s like 🥺 dominant and reader has a praise kink 🥺

😩💦💦💦 hell yes, dom anakin is my SHIT ! and praise kink ? fuck. me.

a/n: im actually really proud of this and i like it a lot,,,,if yall like this maybe ill go feral and make part two 🤫😉

update: i made a part 2 ! here it is :)

My Padawan // Anakin x Reader (Part 1)

rating: explicit

warnings: dom anakin, prasie kink, some subspace although it isnt explicitly mentioned

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆　　 ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

Anakin Skywalker. Your master, the guy you were madly in love with, the only person that you felt truly saw you. He consumed your thoughts 24/7. Some of your thoughts were innocent, while others...not so much. You were in a constant turmoil over whether you wanted his mouth to softly press against yours or to devour you in between your legs. Right now, both seemed like appealing options. You wanted to be with him, wanted to really show him how much you care for and appreciate him. However, you were unsure if he was willing to break the Jedi code for you. Maybe, you thought, you would have a chance with with him in another universe. But here, you were bound by a code both you and your crush swore not to break. Even still, you longed for Anakin in any way you could have him. You longed for him to take you, to decide what he wants to do with your body. You wanted him to absolutely destroy you and then shower you with love afterwards. How could breaking the code be so bad anyways if-

“Hello?” Your head snapped up as you were dragged from your thoughts. “I was trying to compliment you, and here you are off in a different galaxy.” Your eyes cautiously met his, apologetic and embarrassed.

“Sorry, master. You know how I can get lost in my head sometimes.” You chuckled awkwardly, hoping he couldn’t sense how desperately you were craving him right now.

“Yeah, I know all too well.” Anakin laughed and your heart practically melted. His laughter was intoxicating, and his smile could change your mood in an instant. Damn, he’s so beautiful-

“Hey!” Anakin snapped his fingers. “Don’t let me lose you again. Anyways, what I was trying to say is that you did really well today and I’m very proud of you.” You smiled and blushed.

“Thank you, master.”

“I know this mission has been very tedious and hard on you, but you’ve really impressed me with how well you’ve handled it.” You felt the heat rise in your cheeks even more somehow, and you cleared your throat. His praise would have been endearing, had it not been for the arousal stirring between your legs. You crossed them uncomfortably.

“T-thank you, master. It really was nothin-”

“I’m serious. You’ve become such a beautiful person, and I couldn’t be more proud of what you’ve accomplished. You’re going to make an incredible Jedi master someday, far better than I could ever be.” Anakin smiled genuinely, and reached out to grab your hand.

Your mouth was open slightly in shock. You had no idea how to respond or if you should just accept the compliments. The wetness you could feel gathering between your legs also wasn’t helping. “I...don’t know what to say.”

Anakin chuckled. “You don’t have to say anything.” Suddenly, Obi Wan cleared his throat from across the room, startling both of you.

“Sorry to interrupt, but I assumed that you both would like to know that we’re almost back to Coruscant.” Obi Wan looked between you and Anakin, seeing your hand held tightly in his. He gave a disapproving glare before turning on his heels and leaving the room.

You felt his grip release your hand and looked back up towards him, your eyes glassy and pleading with him, some last desperate attempt to have his hand back on yours. As much as he wanted to do much more than just hold your hand, he was bound by the code. Still, deep down you knew that he could only keep his resolve for so long. Soon enough, he was going to break.

And hopefully, soon after that, he would break you.

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆　　 ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

Again, you awoke in a sweat, desperate with your fists tangled in the sheets. You were dreaming of Anakin all over you, inside you. This wasn’t something new to you. You were used to the fragmented and constantly interrupted sleep that was plagued (or blessed...yeah, you decided to go with blessed) with vivid dreams of Anakin taking you apart piece by piece. They felt too real, too tangible to be just a dream. Maybe they were visions, you pondered. Then again, maybe that was just the hopeful side of your brain taking over. It didn’t matter right now. Either way, you were stuck, alone in your bed craving a man who took an oath to never take you.

A knock on your door startled you, and you stayed silent. Who would be knocking on your door at almost three in the morning anyways? Your question was answered soon enough.

“I know you’re awake, you know. I could here your thoughts all the way from my quarters.” Anakin spoke from the other side of your door. Well, this wasn’t ideal. He was probably referring to your dream, in fact, you were sure of it. Great, so he came to reprimand you for thoughts that you not only couldn’t control, but were extremely embarrassed by.

“If you’re going to scold me, then you can just leave.” You rolled over, prepared for the sound of his footsteps getting further from your door.

“Why would I do that? You’d much rather that I praise you, isn’t that right?” Your breath caught in your throat. Scolding is one thing, but mocking you? That was just downright cruel. “I’m not mocking you, little one.” Your walls shot up, immediately guarding him from what was in your mind. In your half asleep state, they were down. Clearly that was a mistake. On another note, Anakin wasn’t mocking you. That was a surprise.

“I’m coming in.” You sat up in your bed and saw the door swing open almost impatiently, his pale skin shone in the moonlight, and you were sure yours did as well considering the sheen of sweat you were still in. His eyes sparkled with adoration or lust, you weren’t quite sure, as he made strides to sit beside you on the bed. You waited patiently for him to say something or make a move. He appeared to be pondering his words very carefully, something that he didn’t often do.

“I can sense your fear.” He brought one of his hands to rest on your thigh, a thin sheet preventing you from feeling his large hand on your skin. “Fear of what will happen if we break the code, if the council finds out.” A short, dry laugh escaped his lips as he was clearly amused with what he was about to say. “Even fear that I didn’t want you.” Your eyes widened, maybe he really did want you. “Don’t ever think for a second that I don’t want to have every inch of you, because I do.” He could see you practically melting before him with every word that tumbled from his lips. His lips, they would feel so soft and warm pressed against yours. Your composure chipped away and it took every fiber of your being to not lunge at him and kiss him passionately.

The hand that rested on your thigh traveled to your cheek, and you leaned into his palm affectionately. The relief of skin to skin contact, it was divine. You wanted more, you craved more. You would take absolutely anything he gave you. “You’re so gorgeous, padawan. My padawan.” Before you could stop it, you moaned softly. It was a moan of relief and pure bliss. His voice, his touch, it was consuming you and you couldn’t do anything but let yourself be enveloped in the feeling.

“You like that, huh padawan? You like feeling smaller than your master.” He cooed shifting his body to position himself closer to you. “Maybe you just like being called mine. Because you are. You are mine in every sense of the word. Your mind, your body, everything you are working for and everything you have been taught belongs to me.” You were slipping, deep into a head space that you couldn’t escape. You wanted to give him everything you had just so that he could take care of you. You craved that feeling of belonging to him and only him. “In the same regard, I belong to you, my padawan. As your master, it is my duty to guide you, give you everything you need.” Anakin’s breath fanned over your lips and you shuddered, opening your eyes to see him inches from your face. “Do you need me, my padawan?” You nodded, too dazed and entranced to form words. “Use your words, little one. I want to hear you say it.”

“I need you, master.” You mumbled, eyes half shut with lust.

“Good girl.” His lips crashed against yours.

[hanamakkiss]

Pros and Cons

Matsukawa Issei x reader

summary: Being childhood friends with Oikawa and Iwaizumi had few perks, it's all worth it when one of those perks came in the form of one(1) Matsukawa Issei.

Where Matsukawa gets a nickname.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

a/n: yall rmb y/n talking about a hot vb boy? yea also makki is a lil shit but everyone loves him  UPDATE: reuploaded sorry😓😓😓

You had made it a point to visit trainings whenever you were free now.

Always popping up whenever the coaches left, Matsukawa’s eyes were instinctively drawn to you when you entered, not that it was hard, considering how much ruckus you made.

After greeting everyone generally, you spent some time chatting with OIkawa when you head whips around to-

Kyoutani?

Oh right, this would be the first time you met him after anticipating it for so long. Matsukawa gestures to Makki about your actions and the two of them pause to watch the show.

Prancing over to the cropped blonde, excitement coming off in waves, "Kyouken! I've heard so much about you! I-"

"Stay away from me." he practically growled.

You froze in your tracks.

"Huh?" your head tilts, taking a step towards him.

"Why?"

Another step.

The growling intensifies, "Or else."

"Or else what? What are you going to do to me?"

Another step.

You're standing directly in front of him now, eye to eye. The sound of balls impacting a gym floor has ceased. Matsukawa tenses, holding his breath.

A second passes, then five.

Kyoutani turns and sprints out of the gymnasium.

Jolted by the sound of feet slamming against the floor, you turn around, head resting on your palm, "Oh dear, I don't think he likes me very much. What a pity," you basically spat the last word out. The contrast between your words and your sinister smile sends shivers down his spine.

Wow. He lets out a low whistle, that sure was something. For a second there, you had the same menacing aura Oikawa sometimes sported. He doesn't know if the stuttering of his heart was fear or attraction.

Somewhere nearby he hears Oikawa's laughter get cut off by a yelp and a stern warning. ("I told you to stop influencing her! Now look at how weird she is!")

Makki comments what he thought, “What, the fuck?”

“Amazing, isn’t she? I thought her that mysELF-“ Oikawa is cut off by a blow to the stomach.

“Shut up, stop looking so proud of yourself, Shittykawa,” Iwaizumi scowls.

By this time you had made your way back to them, all smiles. “Sure hope I get to talk to him again someday,”

Makki snorts his water out.

The morning for the study session arrives.

As Matsukawa strolls to your house, he briefly wonders how the day might go. He figures it might become a little awkward if it was just the two of you, so he's thankful that Makki would be present.

Your house comes into view when the devil himself texts him.

He doesn't have to wait long before he got his answer. Just as he presses the doorbell, his phone chimes again.

Ah fuck. He doesn't even have time to curse him before the door is swinging open.

"Hi," you greet him, "welcome, to my humble abode," you usher him in with a flourish.

Ah shit, he takes off his shoes, here we fucking go.

Making his way to your bedroom he takes note of the frankly absurd number of houseplants that filled the place. Every free window, corner and crevice was stuffed with greenery. He vaguely remembers a flourishing garden in the front yard too.

Entering your room was no different, every available space on your desk and windowsill had small succulents and tiny flowering plants. He takes a moment to study while you set up the floor table.

“Doesn’t... having a lot of plants diminish your oxygen level at night...?” Your head whips around, scowl already in place.

“That’s just a myth. Plants don’t produce enough carbon dioxide at night to suffocate, otherwise how would forest animals survive?” The agitation with which you reply clues him in that you got this question too often.

“Also, if that works I would have already died,” you add on as an afterthought.

His eyebrows shoot upwards as he blinks slowly, “Um, alright, good to know?”

You grin in response, patting the floor next to you, “Sorry about the mess, I don’t have many friends who visit,”

“Judging by how much time you spend with us, I was starting to think you didn’t have any others,” he teases, eager to clear the awkward air.

“Eh, that’s true,” you shrug, “you guys are kind of my only friends in Seijoh,”

Oh shit, did he just overstep? He cringes inwardly when you interrupt.

“Why else would I spend so much time with a bunch of idiots?” the playfulness of your tone allows him to relax.

“Considering how well you mesh with us, doesn’t that make you an idiot too?”

Your smile drops, making a noise of indignation as your own joke is played against you. He just laughs as he avoids your smack, opening his textbook.

The previous conversation still weighing on his mind, he contemplates asking you about it.

“What is it.” You don’t even look up.

“What?”

“I can feel you staring at me, and your finger tapping is really loud,” looking up, you scrunch your face at him. “If you wanna say something, just say it.”

“Mmmhm alright then, if you don’t mind, are you on bad terms with your classmates?”

You stare back blankly, “Not...as far as I know?”

“Do you not hang out with any of them?” Are you not friends with them? You sense the unasked question.

“Well...” you trail off for a few moments, contemplative, before looking him in the eyes, grimacing.

“It’s... kind of due to Kawa?” at his confusion you rush to explain, “Not that he did anything! It’s more of... us being so close? Even platonically,” you scratch the back of your neck.

“They’re nice until they find out I’m close friends with Kawa and Iwawa. Then they either outright hate me, or get close to me in hopes of a better chance with him. Not all of them are like that though! But, at a certain point it’s easier to avoid that problem entirely rather than sifting through. Some girls look really nice, I just don’t know how to talk to them, I transferred in so late, after all.” you laugh sheepishly.

He hopes he isn’t letting his indignation show on his face.

“Does he know?”

“God no, that’s kind of a bastard thing to do, isn’t it? Hey, did you know I can’t have any girl friends cause they’re all crazy over you? That’s kind of fucked up yea? He can’t even do anything about it.” You wave a hand in the air, dismissing the idea.

“What about Iwaizumi,” he tries.

An incredulous look, “You think he would understand that? He barely even looks at girls! Actually, now that you mention it, a sizeable portion of the girls who befriended me had a crush on him. Guess it’s because he’s intimidating,” you nod along to your own words.

“So you’ve just been alone this time?” He can’t wrap his head around it.

“I haven’t been alone! I’ve got you guys, don’t I? I wouldn’t change that for anything,”

The look of happiness you pin him with causes his heart to flutter, but he’s not entirely convinced.

Sensing his unease you soften, “Besides, there’s only a few more months left, I can handle it,”

He exhales his frustration, letting the topic go. Nothing much he could help with anyway. The only thing he could do now was stay by your side, if you need him.

“Thank you for your concern,” You pat his hand comfortingly, the sides of your lips tug upwards, and you speak the next words gravely. “But,” breath bated, he waits for you to continue.

“sometimes, it really do be like that.”

He attempts to flip the table, causing you to scramble for cover, choking on your laughter as you do.

The two of you fall into a steady rhythm, asking each other questions here and there.

A few hours pass when both phones chime, breaking your concentrations, “Oh! Makkun’s at the convenience store now, whaddya want?”

He tells you his order and while you type it in, he observes your figure.

You’ve got a thing for nicknames, he’s always wondered about it.

“Hmm? What? Oh, yea, I guess I do, what about it?” Looking up, your gaze is pointed.

“Huh?” Shit, did he say that out loud?

“You said I got a thing for nicknames? What about it?” You leaned towards him, a teasing grin forming.

He feels himself begin to instinctively draw back before forcing himself to still. “Just like Oikawa, was what I meant.”

At this, your grin deepens, “Well, duh. Who do you think he got it from?”

Interesting. He nods in understanding.

“Well,” he drags the word out, mirroring your grin, “you don’t have a unique nickname for me, are we not close enough?”

Your smile turns into an O as you process his words. He’s right, you never really thought about it.

“Huh. I guess not. Do you want one?”

Stupid of him to admit, but he didn’t expect you to ask him that, and he takes a moment to decide. Did he want a special nickname from you? Is that asking too much? Moving too fast? Just as he’s about to reply, you make the choice for him.

“You know what? I’m gonna give you one anyway. Just give me some time to think.”

He just shrugs, accepting, and goes back to doing his work.

Some time passes and he sneaks a glance at you. A cute furrow nestled between your brows, you doodled in your notebook.

“I’ve got it!” You slam your hands on the table, shifting to place more weight on your knees, leaning far across the table now.

His pencil slips out of his hands from the sudden eye contact.

“How about,” you pause for effect, so close now he could count the light freckles on your cheeks, “Issei?”

The sound of his name coming out of your lips causes his brain to short-circuit. He never knew it could sound so sweet.

“Well?” You probe, “It’s kind of a cop out but I like how it sounds,” you sound it out a few more times with different intonations.

He thinks he might die.

“Hey, you okay? If you don’t like it you can let me know, yanno?”

“It’s fine,” he chokes out, “go ahead.”

“Great! Then-“

The doorbell rings.

“Oh! He’s here! Be right back!” You don’t wait for a reply before leaving.

Matsukawa has never been more thankful for Makki’s impeccable timing. Lucifer used to be an angel, he supposes.

He passes a hand over his face, willing his cheeks to cool down.

He composes himself just in time for Makki and you to enter.

Makki lets out a hum of appreciation, “Mad oxygen in here,”

He turns to you, “Say, isn’t it bad for you at night?”

“Oh my god, do the two of you share one braincell?”

[harringtonstudios]

vegas run. (II)

plot: it’s the annual las vegas run. let’s see what kinda trouble you get into this year!

A/N: the fun allllmost begins. hope yall like <3. everyone say thank you ellie for forcing me to update ily! & i’m so so so grateful for all the messages i received, you guys make me so happy

masterlist! part I.

Sunday came sooner than you expected. Although your duffel bag was sitting in the backseat of your car, you’re were still anxious, nerves lining the pit of your stomach for some reason you couldn’t quite figure out. Wrapping up with your last customer, you ran over to Sarah, giving her a bear hug. 

“Thanks for taking over,” you mumbled, as she grumbled at the tightness of your grip.

“Yeah, yeah. Go have fun! Don’t do anything stupid,” she said, pushing you off as the door opened, people strolling in. 

“Me? Stupid, never,” you whispered back as you nodded at the customers before walking out to the curb. Your car was parked in the lot of Luca’s Diner, an easy spot as you walked in to pick up the order you had called in an hour ago.

Hefting the containers the waitress provided you with, you huffed your way to the car, one hand awkwardly opening the backseat. Tossing in all the food, you stepped back, closing your door and wiping your hands. 

Baze had texted you letting you know that they were planning on leaving the house around six, and you had quickly decided to buy them all dinner, knowing that someone had paid for your flight ticket. Happiness was passing the favor along forward and you were doing really well with the newfound success of your shop anyway. 

Driving to the house, you hummed alongside the radio, trying to quiet the buzziness in your stomach. You didn’t know why this trip was weighing so weirdly on your mind. You’d been on so many Vegas runs before, each other more hectic than the last. Running through the memories, a small smile grew on your face.

There was nothing better than getting drunk with some of the people you considered your closest friends. Even if you hadn’t spent a lot of time with them lately, you knew that they would always have your back, regardless. That was the things about the boys and the people they hung out with, loyalty and pure kindness. 

-

Two minutes away from the house it hit you. Every Vegas run so far, you’d been by Baze’s side. You were his best friend, and even though you were tight with everyone else, it’d just been natural for you to hang with him. You’d done the big group activities, ran after Kells when he’d popped a tab of acid and started stripping, but it was Baze’s hotel room you’d fallen asleep in and now things were going to be different. Ellie was going to come along on the trip, and even though you loved her to the core, you realized that you couldn’t just go crash in Baze’s room, not when he’d rather be with his girlfriend. 

Pulling into the driveway, you shut the thoughts up. It was going to be okay, this was a trip you were supposed to enjoy and getting a week break when you’d been working for the past two months straight sounded like heaven, regardless of who you spent it with. 

The door swung open before you could even get out of the car. Dub and Slim ran out, bags in hand as they rushed past you to the car on the side of the road. You waited until their car skirted off before stepping out of your own, pulling open the backseat door. 

Rook was standing on the porch and you called him over, eager to get the food out of your car before the smell started seeping into your seats. 

“Where’re they going?” you asked, handing him the containers. 

“They booked a different flight by accident. Idiots,” he supplied, before walking back to the house and you couldn’t help but laugh. 

-

The food was long gone, empty containers stacked on the countertop. You’d thought about cleaning it up, knowing the house was going to be empty for a week, but then Colson had picked up a garbage bag, and you’d laid back on his couch satisfied, socked feet propped up on his coffee table. 

Your eyes had lingered on him for a couple of seconds, taking in the sight of his tattoos rippling as he sweeped the boxes off the counter. You’d seen him shirtless countless times, but there was something different this time around. You hated your brain for thinking this way, but all the little bees that had been floating around all day suddenly swarmed your stomach as he picked up a bottle, taking a swig. 

His hand ruffled at his matted hair and then he caught your eyes. 

“So you’re just gonna sit there, stare and not help?” he questioned, tone light as he put the bottle down. 

“That’s the plan chief,” you responded, saluting him with two fingers as he laughed and flipped you off. 

You took a breath. This was going to be okay, these bees weren’t going to bother you anymore.

-

You all had made it just in time for the flight, checking in your luggage as the overhead announced that your flight was boarding. Running across the airport was not something you had planned to do and you scoffed as Kells took off, long limbs making up distance quickly. Rook was soon to follow, and then AJ and Baze ran right behind, leaving you and Ellie strolling behind them. 

“It’s okay, they’ll hold the plane for us,” she murmured, knocking a shoulder onto yours and you laughed before humming in agreement, happy that she was going on this crazy-fest with you. It wouldn’t be a Vegas Run without you both. 

Reaching the boarding area, you stopped yourself from laughing at the scene that lay in front of you. There was a long line, wrapping around the seats, and there were your boys, panting slightly at the back. Walking behind them, you went, “Great job guys. Marathon training is definitely working out.”

Colson rolled his eyes at you as Rook glared, wiping his forehead. You mouthed a quick sorry as he turned the other way. 

Moving up in the line took no time, and you smiled at the flight attendant biting her lip as Kells handed her his ticket. It was funny to see him so oblivious to it all as he thanked her, moving on without sparing another glance. 

Collapsing in his seat, he pulled your arm as you passed by, dragging you into his row. 

“What? This isn’t my seat,” you mumbled, checking your ticket to make sure. 

“Yeah, I know. It’s Baze’s, but I thought we’d switch so him and his girl could be together,” he answered, letting go of your arm as you furrowed your brow. 

Turning to sit down, you nodded at his proposition, pulling your seatbelt across. He had the window seat, and you pushed yourself forward a little, peering across him to the view outside. It wasn’t anything nice, just a couple of people milling around in bright orange outfits, but you still found it interesting as the sun started to set. 

It took a few minutes, and then you were being told to prepare for take-off. Colson had his headphones in, and you watched him move to the music, eyes closed as he mouthed the words, lips moving fast. Soon you were in air, and you unbuckled your belt, only to move back into his space. 

The clouds stood still in the darkening sky, and you smiled at the sight of California underneath you, lighting up with orange glows. The flight was only around an hour long, and your fingers tapped at your thighs, not really wanting to use your phone while you were on board. 

“Stop moving so much,” came a muffled voice. 

“Sorry,” you moved back, grimacing a little as Colson’s eyes peered open. He smiled a little at that, before noticing how you were practically at the edge of your seat. Sitting up, he scrubbed a hand over his little beard before going, “We can switch seats if you want?”

“You sure?” you perked up, knowing that watching the sky would be more than enough entertainment for the rest of the flight. 

“Yeah, here move,” he offered, hunching over to get up. The plane was tight enough as it was, and being six four probably didn’t help so you quickly slide over to get into his seat. 

You leaned back into the seat comfortably, eyes trained to the window. It was pitch dark now, the only thing lighting up the wings of the plane were the little blinking lights. There was a nice white noise sound running through the plane, and you closed your eyes for a second. 

Before you knew it, there was a sudden jolt. Reeling from the movement, you lifted your head up, wincing at the slight ache in your neck. The plane seemed to be landing and you blinked your eyes open, trying to move from where you seemed currently stuck. 

Colson’s head was lolled onto your shoulder, right underneath where yours had been. His mouth was hanging open, and you waited for a second, noticing the slope of his nose and the blonde of his eyelashes. There was another little tremor, and you bumped up your shoulder a little before using your hand to shove his head off. 

“Huh, what?” he mumbled out, arm going up to wipe at his mouth. 

“We, uh we landed,” you answered, looking away from him. There was something soft about the way he looked after waking up and this moment wasn’t for you. The bees reared their little ugly heads inside your stomach yet again.

-

 taglist: @iamdorka​ @no-shxt-sherl​ @bakerkells​ @findingmyths​ @rosegoldrichie​ @mayaslifeinabox​ @itjustkindahappenedreally​​ @hnbtx​​  @backoftheroomandnotbelonging​​ @nowhereiswhereibelong​ @whyisgmora​ @oopsiedoopsie23​

[jeonjeonggukenergy]

Anti-Hero

summary ~ in search of wine at a party that’s so not your scene, you run into jungkook, the weeb from your film class, and become determined to learn just how much he lives up to his big reputation.

pairing ~ jungkook x reader

genre ~ fluff, smut (coming in ch3!) - college!au

wordcount ~ 2.3k

warnings ~ pretty much n/a, mentions of drinking and light smut

a/n ~ v excited for these lil dorks! i thought about combining this with the upcoming chapter but it felt right on its own and i wanted to go ahead and post an update for yall haha. ch 3 will most definitely have some serious smut to look forward to 👀 thank yall for reading, i love and appreciate any form of support or feedback so so much, so feel free to msg me or send me an ask abt whatever you want! 🥰 hope u enjoy this chapter!!!

previous: chapter 1 ~ next: chapter 3 | chapter 4 (coming soon!)

~ read on ao3 ~

CHAPTER 2 ~ cowboy bebop & chill

You couldn't stop thinking about Jungkook. Every time you brought the enamel of your favorite mug to your lips, teeth knocking the rim as you exhaled to cool off your tea, it called back the click of his earrings in your mouth. Whenever you reached behind your ear to tuck away the hair you'd impulsively cropped to your chin this year, it hit the same spot you'd sucked into a bruise on his neck and you shivered. Even your slight headache thanks to the shitty vodka from the pregame reminded you of the wine you'd sought out from him in the first place and never fucking got to drink. 

You found yourself reading over your responses to each other's discussion posts from your film class, trying to find any more justification for this sudden crush than the drunken flirtation that mortified you as soon as you remembered it sober. He did seem to like your directness...but you could easily ascribe that to his similarly loosened-up state. Scanning through your reflections on The Shawshank Redemption and Casablanca, you painstakingly overanalyzed every smiley face and "I loved that part too!" Could he have been into you at all before this? Or had he just eyed you for another quick fuck at a party? Shit, what if he hated you for working him up and then leaving? If he wanted to, you knew he would have easily found someone else to finish the night with. But what if he still held it against you? The image of him bitterly turning aside to find another girl in the crowd, with your hickey still fresh on his jaw, turned your stomach more than you wanted to admit.

Shaking your head with a grounding exhale, you reminded yourself that whoever else he did or didn't hook up with was none of your business. Plus, he seemed like a genuinely nice guy and probably didn't hate you in the first place. Wow, the bar really was so fucking low. Maybe that was part of the reason you were never that bold with boys. Every classmate you'd fallen for so far at college had remained innocently unaware of your feelings, likely because you never worked up the courage to clearly express them. You hadn't even been trying this time, though—this semester had been so busy you'd barely had time for your friends, much less crushes. And now your one blowoff class had become your biggest distraction.

Jungkook, a communications & media major, couldn't afford to lose as much focus in this class as you. Normally near front-and-center, he sat all the way in the corner of the last row, wary of imaginary stares burning through the hopefully-opaque-enough curtain of his hair. Even the risk of zoning out staring at the back of your head stressed him out less than the thought of you doing the same to him.

You walked into class through the back right entrance today so you'd pass Jungkook in the front row, though you could have gone straight to your usual left-side seat from the main door. Knowing you'd never summon the courage to talk to him, you still couldn't help wanting to see his face. You didn't know just what you were looking for—some kind of confirmation or dismissal that would let you just move on with your dry-ass life—but any reason to catch a glimpse of Jungkook was a good one. Today, though, he sat far closer to the entrance than you'd expected, and his proximity stopped you in your tracks a few feet behind him. Eyes dragging down the sculpted form under his soft black sweatsuit, your stare traced the veins in his forearms to reach the hands in his lap. Catching a half-page cartoon ass in your view of the manga he gazed at intently, a snort-laugh escaped you, the sound setting him on high alert. He snapped the book shut, spinning around with eyes wide and still-long hair an understandable mess for a Monday.

"I'm so—"

"I'm so sorry!"

You both shoved out the words at the same time.

A pause swelled between you, eye contact maintained as your mouths fluttered open and shut like fish. Even awkward and off-guard like this, he was just so damn pretty. It felt unreasonable for him to seem as flustered around you as you were around him. Finally, you spoke again, solely to force the conversation forward and put you both out of your misery.

"W-what do you have to be sorry for? I'm the one who, like—ugh, I was drunk, I'm so sorry, I never would have been so, yknow, if I was sober, like that's not me I promise, I really didn't mean to make you uncomfortable or—"

"No-no-no-no-no!" Jungkook cut you off, dismissing your barely intelligible apology. Before you could cut him off in return and continue, he held up both hands between you, his eyebrows knit together in a pleading expression. "Are you kidding me? Seriously, I feel so bad, I was kind of drunk too, I hope I didn't make you uncomfortable! Please, you have nothing to worry about, it was, uh...I was...good...if...you were." He grew shyer as he continued, drifting off as a hand reached back to rub his neck. A light laugh. "You did make me have to keep my hair long for another few days, though. It's gotten so annoying to take care of, I was planning on cutting it right after the costume."

This admission perked up all your earlier curiosities about him, and a cautious smile spread over your face as Jungkook unconsciously reminded you that he was, in fact, a total dork, rather than the fuckboy you'd irrationally feared him to be.

"Wait, hold up," you snorted again. Gently. "You're telling me you grew out your hair for three, maybe four, months...for a Cowboy Bebop costume?"

"Hey, it was free and way less lame than a wig," he defended himself. Crossing his arms over his chest, he fidgeted uncomfortably, face blushing into a grin as you continued to giggle at him.

"You are such a fucking weeb," you accused lightheartedly.

Jungkook furrowed his brows back together, an anxious hand grazing the spot where you'd marked him again. "Well, you recognized my Spike costume, at least," he pouted. "You're not all innocent."

"I watched one episode with my friend, and it was dubbed," you downplayed. "Isn't watching dubs instead of subs a crime for real anime fans?"

"Actually," his eyes lit up at your rhetorical question. "The dub of Cowboy Bebop is excellent. It's pretty universally considered better than watching the OG with subs. You're right though, that is the general rule."

"Oh man, who knew." Looking down, grinning, you tried to hide how endeared you were by his earnestness. "Well, it was pretty cool, not gonna lie. I guess I kind of get the appeal."

"Would you want to start watching the rest sometime? That's one I just never get tired of," he blurted, then blushed, closing his mouth and working his lips between his teeth as his eyes stayed wide and on you. Jungkook's heart accelerated in his chest, a fist opening and closing at his hip as he tried to decide whether he regretted taking a chance on the question.

You instantly diverted all your mental energy from hoping he couldn't sense your attraction to massively overthinking your response. This was a "Netflix and chill" kind of invite, right? If he wanted you, of course you wanted him, but you had to be sure before you did something else stupid and risked having to find another discussion board buddy.

"Um...yeah, sure," you accepted. "I have to ask, though, do you mean, like...Cowboy Bebop and chill?" You raised an eyebrow, trying to look bolder than you felt. "Or...Cowboy Bebop and just...Cowboy Bebop?"

"I..." Mirroring your playful grin, Jungkook shrugged, not wanting to look like a fuckboy if he answered with the first option but also wondering—were you actually interested in watching this anime with him? The possibility puzzled him, the same way it confused you how he could go bold and then back to his shy weeb-ass self within seconds. You shrugged too, with an anxious exhale of a laugh.

"That was...weird to just say like that, sorry. We can just see where it goes, whatever you want," you backtracked, full of faux-nonchalance. The Google Calendar schedule on your phone suddenly became very interesting. "We could do another day if that works for you, but I'm free after this class once I write my discussion post—I don't have any other homework or meetings today for once."

He nodded quickly, eyebrows up. Swallowing, Jungkook saw the opportunity to show a little more initiative and seized it. "We could do that together even, 'cause we usually jump off each other anyway. So you can come over right after class if you want." He glanced up and to the left for a quick mental inventory. "Oh shit, wait, but I seriously need to clean my apartment first, can we do more like dinner time tonight? You can just come over for ramen or takeout if you want, or eat first or whatever."

"Yeah, that's fine!" you agreed warmly. "Ramen and homework, two birds with one scone. I should probably, like...get your number? So you can send me your address when you're ready or something?" You didn't want to sound too desperate, especially since you knew he was used to it, but you found yourself weirdly excited to experience something he so obviously loved. If you got dicked down too, even better, but you were definitely willing to wait on that part, especially now that this first sober conversation had restored your inhibitions. He had this slightly shy sweetness about him that just made you want to make him happy somehow. You wanted to see more of his cheesy little smile. You wanted to hear the bright laugh that occasionally rang out at the most inappropriate times, during Citizen Kane or attendance. You wanted to watch his light pink lips fall open in bliss as you kissed down his sensitive neck to the trim of his worn-in hoodie...

"Yeah sure, here." The quick touch of his hand over yours snapped you out of your thoughts as he took your phone, ready to type in his number, and—

"Wait, did you say 'two birds with one scone'? Not 'one stone'?"

You blushed furiously. Somehow him calling you out on your quirks embarrassed you more than the indecent daydream he'd interrupted. "Okay, so I saw this tweet a while back where they said 'feed two birds with one scone' to replace 'kill two birds with one stone,' I think it was just some vegan troll being all like 'don't talk about killing birds!' but it stuck with me because I just really fucking love scones."

"You...really fucking love scones?" he repeated in slight sarcasm, eyes down on your phone. You grew even shyer, but continued.

"Yeah, I bake a lot and they're my favorite thing to make. The flavor possibilities are endless and they last for days so I just keep them on hand for breakfast and snacks and to give out to friends. And they go with tea, which is my other favorite thing." Ooh, was he a tea person? Should you bring some tonight? Something earthy, to go with your ramen. Your go-to green sencha, or maybe chrysanthemum? Chamomile?

Jungkook held your phone back out in front of you, but waited silently for you to notice, enjoying the view of wheels turning in your head as you pondered tea pairings. This was the you he was used to, daydreaming in class and going on tangents as dorky as his in discussions. Even from a distance, he'd noticed you consistently gave off a vibe somewhere between absentminded professor and grandma, and this confirmation made you even cuter to him. But the hair still falling over his ears wouldn't let him forget his new physical proof of another side to you.

You finally collected your phone with a mumbly "Oh right, yeah, cool, thanks," that you prayed sounded more chill to him than it did to you.

"I just texted myself, so I have your number too now, and I'll just send you my address when I'm ready, and, uh...yeah!" he rambled a bit in response.

You nodded, confirming. "I'll see you tonight!"

"Yeah, see you tonight."

Jungkook watched you walk to your desk, silently admiring your ass and allowing himself only a moment to savor the memory of half of it filling his hand. A strange nervousness tingled through him. He hadn't been able to stop thinking about you all weekend either, and now he had a chance to get closer to you than ever before. He hoped, more than he could remember hoping for anything else, that this would go well, one way or another. He had no idea what you wanted with him, but you had him questioning everything he'd thought he wanted. Easing open his laptop, he pulled up your last discussion board response to him, signed off with a smiley face but backwards.

I like the way you think. (:

He turned his head to read it right-side-up, letting his face scrunch into a smile you wouldn't see.

Meanwhile, though the film thrilled you, you struggled to stay facing forward for the duration of class. You suspected the plot of Rear Window was simply unsettling you, but you swore you could feel Jungkook's eyes on your back. No, he was probably actually watching the movie as usual, or reading his manga if not. You were definitely just being paranoid. Definitely. Probably. Right?

next chapter 

[akvtsuki-ari]

A Study In Body Language: v. love is a virtue

Warnings: smut! unprotected sex, mild angst, but other than that mostly fluffy. 

Length: 6.5k

Authors Note: holy shit yall. we did it. 25000 words, 5 chapters and a whole lot of emotional turmoil, we fuckin did it. i will be writing an epilogue for this story but for now, here it is - a study in body language. hope yall have enjoyed this wild ride 

Plot Summary: Spencer realizes how deep he’s fallen, and reads something that changes his plans of confession. Love is beautiful, apparently. 

Link to the song mentioned: 1000 Times by Sara Bareilles 

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4

He overhears you in the bullpen. You’re not sad when you talk about it, and maybe he was a little too hopeful to hear you clearly but you sounded relieved. He hopes you’re relieved but he doesn’t know how to deal with that feeling. He doesn’t feel sorry for himself but he could drown in the relief when you say you broke up with Jay. A weight off of his shoulders, off of his consciousness. For a moment he wasn’t so damn restless. You were single but he doesn’t know what that changed. Everything felt different, shit everything was different. The world that he’d come to know was shattered underneath the weight of this feeling. 

“Why’d you two break up?,” JJ asks. She’s curious, but Spencers hanging on your voice for the answer. His whole body relaxes. You pause, maybe you’re shrugging. 

“I don’t know - I think we both realized that this wasn’t gonna be long-term but we’ll always be cool. He’s a really good guy, but we have different wants, I think,” you say casually. You don’t sound sad. 

“You don’t seem upset,” Prentiss comments. Spencers happy he’s not delusional. 

“I’m not. The whole thing was really mutual and I loved him but not as anything more than friends really and he feels the same so I’m okay,” You say casually. He doesn’t hear much else, so he walks away before you can turn the corner and see him. 

Rain beats on the windows when Spencer walks away. It’s been raining for days now, the darkness seemed to be encompassing but it was nice. Spencer liked rain, watching it when he needed to think and it seems like he was having to do that more often these days. Rain wasn’t somber to Spencer, as much as it was a sobering reminder. Rain made him think of you, but most things did so he isn’t sure if it’s any deeper than that. Everything made Spencer think of you. 

Spencer couldn’t stop himself from thinking of you. It was a crushing realization that you were in love with someone and that you would do anything to make them happy. It was always apart of him, he couldn’t catch a break without being reminded of how much he adored you. Things continued as normal but he was working hard to make sure of that. He didn’t want to lose you, or hurt you so he tried so hard to make sure things were okay, even if it killed him slowly. He wanted to call you his, because in his heart of hearts, he wanted you to think of him as yours. Spencer was overwhelmed every time he saw you because it was you. You were you and he’d give you everything if you asked for it. He would rob the stars in the sky for you, he would steal the sun for you to keep, he would do anything to make you happy. That realization was crushing and Spencer was unsure if you had any clue.

__

The work day passes normally. Everyone was ready to go home, though some of the team wanted to hang at O’Keefes for a drink but you and Spencer passed. They all gave each other knowing looks, that Spencer became aware of when he realized he liked you. You still seemed clueless, and that was a scary enough thought. Spencer just flushed as he sees everyone walk out to the elevator, leaving you and him alone for the night. 

“Any special plans, Spence?,” you ask Spencer, fiddling with the strap of your bag as you two waited for the next elevator to come. Spencer shakes his head, looking at your stance and smiling. The bag was too big for you, clearly too heavy on your shoulders but he knew you’d never get rid of it. It was a thing about you he’d picked up from before. 

“Not really, no. Might go home and watch some TV, though I don’t know what,” Spencer replies thoughtfully. You nod in understanding, letting out a huff of frustration as you let go of your bag problem. Spencer just chuckles as he stands in front of you, fixing up the buckle before the strap. You look up at him with a grateful grin, and he feels his heart pound. Love, love, love on his mind when he looks at you. He feels a bit sick, but he figures it’s a symptom that seems to swallo him. 

You wrap your arms around Spencer and lay your face in his chest.He wonders if you can hear how hard his heart is pounding but it doesn’t seem like you notice. You nuzzle into him, and it seems to be so subconscious for you. He wants to ask himself if this was friends did but he knew better - this was too complicated for such simple questions. He hugs you back, taking a breath and you pull away and look up at him. His eyes are a pretty green, spots of brown speckling them but they look hazel in the light. You’d see them sometimes when he woke up and they’d fall under the sunlight. You always liked them and maybe you look too long, so you pull away. Spencer wishes you didn’t but the moments gone before he can protest. 

The elevator dings. The doors both open as the two of you travel down together. Spencer wants to offer you some company but he can’t tell himself too when he knows his own intentions. 

____

Spencer was alone. It was the wordless night that seemed to eat at him, even though the clock had only barely scraped by to 11. Lately, Spencer doesn’t have trouble sleeping but it seems like that would change soon. Thoughts of you were cocoon his thoughts. He felt so stuck, because he wants to tell you how he feels - but the risk is too great. Too much of a burden to bear because he has no clue about how you feel. He assumes you don’t return those feelings but if you did -  he wasn’t sure if anything would change. That reality is far more crushing than not knowing at all. 

One thing Spencer did when he was thinking of you was read your letters to him. Those letters were more important for his sanity than he wanted to admit. You told him of everything, gave him daily reminders of why he needed to see the world again. Your return was more than waited on, but prayed for. A selfless act in self-preservation on your behalf, and a brave one on Spencers. 

The first letter dates a few weeks after Spencer was in rehab. You’re so different in writing, maybe more honest because you aren’t thinking so much. Spencer doesn’t know how to explain it but he likes the way you write. 

Dear Genius, 

Congrats on a whole 3 weeks!! I’m so proud of you, and I’m happy to hear you like group therapy. I loved your clown painting, by the way and I want it framed for my apartment ASAP - seriously I had no clue you were so good at art. I also want pictures of when you guys have group therapy with those service dogs because that is so cute!!! Excited for the next letter just for that. 

Updates on my life are pretty boring but you asked so I’ll deliver. My dad is doing okay right now. We’ve talked a lot and he’s sorta mulled over my chilhood and apologized about well… all of it. It was a bit much, to be honest but thats okay. I’ll get through it, especially when I have these letters to look forward too. I met someone sorta too, he’s from DC but he moved into my neighborhood. He’s nice, but who knows, you know? 

Also, you told me to keep sending you new music to listen too, but honestly I just wanna send you radio hits. You should listen to The-Weeknd, maybe Starboy? I mostly just wanna see how you feel about stuff people listen to on the car radio haha. I don’t know, but either way, hope you like the song. 

Anyways, I love you and I’m looking forward to our next correspondence. Good luck always, and keep yourself strong. 

Best Wishes,

Y/N 

Spencer smiles big. The kind of smile that reaches the lines in his eyes and makes his whole body relax. He replies with what you ask for, he remembers. He had a picture of him with an Australian Shepherd from therapy that you framed and put on your desk. He remembers how much you liked it, though he wasn’t sure why. He hadn’t sent you the clown painting yet because it seemed to slip his mind but he reminds himself to give it to you. He looks through more letters, reading the different one-sided exchanges. He reads your weekly updates about the community mural that you painted with all the kids while you were back home. He reads about the different volunteers, and how your childhood friend who you lost touch with had moved back and had a baby. Her name was Ellie, and you loved her. He comes across the letter where your dad passed away, only a month into your trip. 

Dear Spencer, 

Hey kid. I’m happy to hear about your progress!! I know it’s been tough because you’ve hit that middle slump but I know you. I know you’ll get through, it just takes time and you’re doing great keeping your head above water. I love you and I’m so proud of you, you’re gonna go far. 

I know I sound different here, it’s because my dad passed away last night. He passed quietly, stubborn bastard. I cried, more than I was expecting. He’s the last person of blood who would claim me as family and he just sorta disappeared. It’s just weird, how little i seem to feel. I was sad but it was weird, more emptying than anything but in a fucked up way I was relieved. I don’t know. I suppose it’s complicated

It made me think of you, in a weird way, I guess. You told me to send you music and I guess this is my indirect way of telling you stuff, but you should listen to 1000 times by Sarah Barielles. I don’t really know what to make of it but thanks for being a good friend and I’m grateful for what we have as friends always. You’re a good person, Spencer. 

Anyways, let me know if anything changes and good luck next week. I miss you, but I know we’ll see eachother again soon and things will be good. Keep sending me pictures of Dianes cat also because she’s so cute and I love her. Thanks for everything. 

Love always, 

Y/N 

 Spencer looks at the song you sent. He normally listens to every single one but that week he had already used up all of his computer time to read the articles from your local newspaper and he never got a chance too after that. He figures now was a good time, always having a piece of you when he got that music. Even if the song wasn’t his style, it made him think of you and for him that was most than enough. It was a blessing in a lot of ways to have a part of you that only he knew of. It was music anyone could listen to but the meaning was his alone. Spencer opens up his laptop and types in the song title. He presses play, awaiting whatever pop ballad you had waiting for him

Then the lyrics start to play and Spencer feels sick,” 

“Again again I let it go, let it go/ Cover my mouth don't let a single word slip/ Out wouldn't wanna tell you, no tell you, no/ Nothing could be worse than the risk of/ Losing what I don't have now,” 

Shit. 

Spencers heart drops to the bottom of his stomach. He feels like he’s going to die, and he doesn’t know how else to explain this feeling of detriment. You told Spencer you loved him a full month before he even realized how far deep he was and he just… didn’t acknowledge it. Spencer wanted to throw up, every visceral feeling of panic banging on the inside of his chest and threatens to crush his heart under the weight. Spencer could feel it in his throat, as he scrambles to find his phone your contact, dialing your number as he feels the drum of his heartbeat. His fingers shake as he hears you pick up on the other side.

“Hello?,” 

Your voice makes Spencer ache. Spencer breathes out, unable to speak for a few seconds. You look confused on the other side of the phone. 

“Spencer?,”

Your voice is all Spencer hears yet your words feel distant. His voice is abysmal and small when he speaks - the words trapped in the maze of thoughts, unable to be expressed correctly. Spencer coughs before he talks, trying to clear his airways even though nothing was really wrong. 

“Are you home and are you busy?,” Spencer asks, tears threatening to run down his face before his voice can give out 

“I’m home but I’m not busy, why? Is everything okay? ,” Panic is subtle in your voice, Spencer swallows thickly. 

“Yeah, yeah - I’m okay. Can I come over?,” Spencer asks, voice quiet. 

“Of course, Spencer. See you soon, and drive safe - the weather is still bad so you gotta be careful,” you say warmly. 

“Yeah, of course. See you soon,” Spencer replies. The line clicks and Spencer stares into his phone. He picks his care keys up and puts on a jacket, knowing he’d still get caught up in the rain. 

____

The rain is heavier than it was before. It was late, the clock reads 11:45  and Spencer can’t see much as water spills from the grey clouds that hung over his head. It was peaceful, almost. When you ignore the feeling of imminent panic and anxiety that washes over him, the rain is soothing to his ears as heavy as it. Spencer hands around the steering wheel are gripped tight enough to make the pads of his fingers white. His skin is hot, chest covered in a light sheen of sweat as he thinks of what's going to happen when he gets there - or moreso, if anything has happened. Spencer's thoughts are deafened by his own uncertainty - he owes it to you to tell you but if it’s too late for him he may never come back from that. He needed to tell you because you deserved to know but the thought of nothing happening hurts him. He’d rather you didn’t know but that’s not fair.

Spencer's thoughts of your ex-boyfriend pop up and he feels guilty. He’s tearing himself to pieces finding every reason in the world not to tell you, but he had to make the right choice because you were braver than he could ever be. He wants to show you he’s changed and that he won’t run from this. He refused to run from you. 

His hands shake when he knocks. His hair is wet and the water seems to soak through parts of his old jacket. He looked like a mess he was sure but it didn’t matter. Spencer was so anxious, he doesn’t remember the last time he ever felt this anxious. 

When you open the door with a smile - that’s when Spencer knows you were the love of his life. He just looked at you, looks at you with sunken eyes that flit over your face with a feeling you can’t explain. Spencer needed you, maybe more than you needed him. 

“Hey, Spencer,” You say warmly. Spencer walks inside and you close the door behind him. He looks at you for a second, taking his jacket off as he just looks to you in silence. He wants to spit the words out, he wants to say them so the two of you can get caught up together. Spencer wants to be yours, and for you to be his and then some. Spencer loves you. 

“What’s up?,” you ask quietly, seating yourself next to Spence whose found himself a spot on the couch. You grab his hands and play with his fingers for a few seconds, the touch is just so damn intimate. You loved Spencer, so much more than you could explain. You had that little anxious bubble in your chest about what could happen - that ‘maybe’ that brought you so many restless nights. You wondered if today was the day but before you go to dismiss the thought, you feel Spencers hands under your chin. He lifts your face up, eyes examining your face carefully. His scruff was nice, he looked different than before. 

Before you can ask, Spencer kisses you. It’s out of character, and in many ways out of place for him. He’s not the type to kiss anyone out of the blue but he doesn’t know else to break the tension with any language other than physical. It's the way his lips melt to yours, the way you kiss him back immediately, the way his lips have a way of holding yours. The way his hands hold your face up. It was everything that made you remember that Spencer was fucking kiss you. Kissing you like he was the reason he was breathing. Curled around your very existence, with his lips giving you their every secret. This kiss was an exchange in secrets, but more than an assurance. Spencer kisses you, and you kiss him back and the whole universe is still. 

When Spencer pulls away, you’re more than speechless. You look at Spencer, looking in his eyes for regret and you find none. Solace, maybe but no regret. You just look down, too scared to look at him again but he stops you, lifting your face up again. 

“Don’t hide from me please,” Spencer croaks “I need to look at you,” 

“Why?,” 

“To make sure you’re real,” Spencers confession makes your body heat up. 

“What’s gotten into you?,” you laugh nervously. You think Spencer will follow in suit, going back to being silly with you like normal but he doesn’t falter. He holds both of your hands and looks down, your eyes still fixated on him. Spencer sighs. 

“I read your letter, from when your dad died. I never had a chance to listen to that song, but I did. I normally did but that one somehow managed to miss me and..,” he trails off, like his thoughts are moving too fast for him to say what he wants to. You swallow thickly. So he knows, you figure. 

“It’s okay if you don’t, you know, return those feelings,” your voice chokes out. Spencer laughs. 

“You’d be a fool to think something like that,” Spencer says earnestly. You choke a little violently. 

“Oh?,” 

Spencer turns to look at you again. His eyes are full of something, and this time you know the feeling. You give it to him often, that look of adoration That “You’re so stupid, please marry me,” look you give to the person you want to love most in this life. 

“My whole life, I couldn’t afford to believe in anything related to destiny. I didn’t believe in miracles, or destiny, or a lot of other things for a long time. Sometimes I still don’t, like when cases go so bad that the whole team is left with that hollow feeling,” Spencer starts “I try my best to remember joy and happiness, and sometimes I do believe in miracles but it’s not everyday. Sometimes the pain was just too heavy,” 

“When I started taking dilaudid again, I was just trying to cope with the pain. My life can feel like a series of unfortunate events sometimes,” Spencer says softly. The grip he has on your hands tightens just a little bit. 

“I’ve been wanting to give you this confession for weeks, but like always you’ve proved to be more brave than I could ever be. Of course you figured it out first, who could be surprised but,” Spencer pauses for a second. 

“You’re the love of my life. Maybe it’s too much to say right now, maybe enough time hasn’t passed for me to decide that but if I said anything less I’d be lying to you, and I don’t want to lie to you ever again,” Spencers voice is barely above a whisper. 

“Y/N, you’re the only woman I could ever love this much. Those two months, those words that you gave me are what kept me sane. It was thoughts of your voice and your touch that kept me alive. It was your kindness that gave me strength, your love that gave me courage. It was you that reminded me of what it feels like to have hope, and perhaps even believe in miracles and destiny,” Spencers crying and so are you, but you still managed to hold eachother. 

“I’m wholly in love with you. I really don’t know how to say anything else. Please be mine because for now, loving you is all I really want to do,” Spencer says the last part with a small voice. The butterflies in your stomach make it hard for you to speak and you’re crying so much you have a headache. You want to kiss him, and say something back but for now you’re just crying a little bit. You’d clear all the grey clouds in the world to give Spencer some sunshine. 

“It’s always been you, dickhead,” you say through giggles. Spencer loves the sound of your laugh, if he could he would bottle up and keep it for himself to wear around his neck. Spencer wants to wear your name around your neck so the whole world knew he was yours and you were his. 

You can’t hold yourself back from moving into Spencer's lap, bare thighs over his legs as you lean into his neck. You adored Spencer and you knew that for so long, but you always figured he didn’t feel the same. That song was your confession, and when he didn’t listen you always figured he didn’t feel it. Miscommunication is a hell of a drug, you figure. You were here now, wrapped in Spencer and more than ready to give him all of you. You adored Spencer, the way his mind worked full of cogs and his heart was full of affection. It was everything Spencer did when he was getting better, giving you purpose. Spencer made you feel at ease, always. Even when bad things seemed to swallow you up, Spencer gave you ease. 

You look up at Spencer, there are small tears in your eyes when you do. You straddle his lap, and kiss him again. Holding your waist, Spencer smiles. He’s so grateful to be touching you like this. Spencer wants all of you to himself and he’d be damned if he was selfish for it. 

“Spencer,” your voice is small, but happy. Spencer hums, wrapped up in the way the two of you kiss for him to be upset. You look up at him, into him in the way only you can and speak again. 

“Make love to me,” your question is quiet. Spencer immediately became a little unsteady but he understood your request. That term “make love,” used to gross you out but you got it now. Sex and love are different - but sometimes you used sex to make love. To feel someone so close to you like that, you wanted to make love with Spencer. You wanted to have marks all over your skin so that the sight of him could be there forever, and for him to fuck you like you were the only thing he needed. Spencer wanted to make you feel wanted, and you wanted him to want you all the same. So, Spencer smiles, places a hand on boths sides of your face and kisses you slowly. Spencer loves you, adores you and wants to make you feel beautiful. 

“You wanna go to your room?,” Spencer asks. You nod, and Spencer lifts you up before carrying you. You’re wrapped around him, yelping at his surprising strength. 

Spencer lays you down, eyes glassy as he looks at your figure. He’s admiring you - he wants to make you feel pretty. You’re the prettiest woman in the world to him, and all he wants to do is make you feel it. He leans into you, his body pressed to yours as your legs are tangled. Spencer always cradles your face when he kisses you, as if he’s trying to hold you as close to him as possible. Spencer treats you like glass, his touch an ink stain leaving your body with permanent color as he kisses you. His tongue pushes past your lips softly, before pulling back. His fingers are so nimble, tugging with the sides of your shirt, staving himself off as he feels your bare thighs. 

His mouth moves to your neck, peppering kisses along the sides of the column of your throat. He grips your thighs, feeling your wrap your legs around his waist pulling him closer. Spencer tugs at the ends of your shirt, detaching from you so you can get it off. He chokes at the sight of you without your top on and you can’t help but hide your face. Spencer's face leans in, taking your nipple in his while he uses his free hand to gently brush against the other one. 

“You’re beautiful, you look so good like this,” Spencer comments. A soft whine escapes your lips at the combination of words and Spencers touch. He was sweet with every movement but damn he had way too many clothes on. 

“Spence, take it off,” you whine. Spencer gives you a small laugh, taking off his shirt before hovering over you again. His body was surprisingly toned from being out in the field and you definitely weren’t upset about seeing it. Your hands find their way around his waist, touching his skin in appreciation. He gives you a shy smile, before his head ducks down again, moving to kiss down past your breasts to your stomach and above your naval. His kisses are gentle, mouth careful in leaving them in as many places as possible. He stops when he ghosts his mouth over your panties, placing a kiss on your vulva - a wet spot formed on the light color. Spencer moves to kiss your thighs, getting close to your center and taking his time with it. Small hickies take place all along your skin, Spencer wanted to mark the word “mine,” into your skin with his mouth. He wanted you to think of him always, but especially when you were doing this. 

Your breaths are staggered and heavy, as Spencer rubs you down with his hands - palms massaging your legs as he touched you. For the first time in your life, when someone touched you could feel how much they meant it. Maybe it’s because Spencer manages to make things you’ve felt before feel different - he makes everything feel better. 

Spencer slides your panties down your legs carefully. His eyes are low when he sees your clit, sensitive and aching for his attention. He places a kiss on it first before he sticks his tongue out flat for you. Your fingers grip his hair immediately, legs wrapped around his shoulders where you could see him shift his weight to unzip his jeans and get himself off which only worked you up farther. Spencer eats you out like he’s been starved of you his whole life, head rhythmic as he brings you to your orgasm and slows down. He’s making an attempt to savor you but enjoys the sound of irritation you make every time he stops, something he’d explore farther at a later date. You’d gotten head before but it always came off as a favor and not like your partner wanted to do it for you. Spencer made sure you knew he wanted just as much as you did. 

You orgasm in Spencer mouth twice in borderline succession as Spencer refuses to pull away, smiling as he holds your hips down and makes your whole body shiver. You have to catch your breath when he finally spares you and gives you a toothy-boyish grin of satisfaction that you only ever saw when he beats you in a card game. You look down at him adoringly, wanting to cry at how lucky you felt. You pull him to kiss you and he looks at you for a second - a questioning one since he just had his tongue inside you. You roll your eyes in a “duh, that’s the point way,” and Spencer swallows thickly. 

“Do you want me to return the favor? Because I’m more than happy too,” you say reaching for his dick, which twitched at your touch. Spencer shakes his head. 

“Not right now, wanna focus on you tonight,” Spencer replies. You look at him with the most affectionate puppy dog eyes and Spencer bursts out into full giggles. God, he loved you. 

“Can I?,” Spencers question is tentative, and all you do in response is open your legs up wider for him and give him a nod. You mouth a “please,” to him and Spencer just smiles, kissing you softly. 

Spencer stretches you out so fucking good. He’s careful, whispering pretty nothings about how beautiful you are and how lucky he was. The words were only fuel to the fire as you tighten around Spencer and some choked sound leaves his throat. Out of curiosity, you do it again and Spencer moans aloud. You give him a raised eyebrow and his voice is suddenly low. 

“Do that again and I’ll cum,” Spencer warns. You giggled for a second before looking up at Spencer's face. 

“You can cum in me if you’d like to,” you say, voice innocent  “I’m on the pill,” Spencer wants to cum right then and there but he pauses to take a deep breath. 

“Think I’ll have to take you up on that,” Spencer groans. You use one hand to rub your clit as Spencer pulls his hips back and starts to fuck you. The motion is slow at first, not wanting to hurt you but your voice in his ear only urges you to go deeper. 

“I’m so lucky to have you like this love, you’re so pretty for me,” Spencer's praises are so sweet to you. Sugar to aching ears when he speaks lovely words for you. You whine. 

“Spencer please cum in me - god, please,” you egg Spencer on as you get yourself off one last time. Spencer presses his forehead to yours, pausing for a second to kiss you sweetly before pounding into you again. 

“Shit,” Spencer's voice feels like it gets stolen from him as he finishes inside, feeling your orgasm aftermath convulse around him pushes him off the edge as you look at him warmly, a soft blush flooding your expression. 

“I love you so much,” you giggle to him, wrapping your arms around his neck and allowing him to rest his body weight on you. Spencer wants to stay with you like this forever, wanting to wrap you up in his arms and hold you for eternity. He was hoping you’d let him. 

“I wanna stay like this, but let’s go get cleaned up first,” you say thoughtfully “I can wash your hair for you and we can shower together,” you say softly. Tears well up in Spencers eyes - remember the last time you did just that for him. He nods softly, burying his face in your neck, kissing new bruises that were soon to become dark purples. 

____

You come out of the shower first as you hear a knock on your door. It’s been a few minutes and the knocking has been incessant, you figure it’s a neighbor or maybe someone who needed help. You wrap your robe around yourself and towel around your hair before you open up the door. 

To your fucking dismay, it’s JJ, Emily, and Penelope - all stood outside with a bottle of wine as a greeting. Your eyes pop open immediately as you try to brush away the panic and give them all a fake smile. 

“Hey guys! What are you all doing here so late?,” you ask, internal panic threatening your life. They all give you a knowing look. 

“Well, we wanted to talk to you about something and we figure -,” Garcia starts but is interrupted by the sound of Spencer's voice, calling out to you as he walks out of the shower and in view of the open door. He can’t see them, but they can see him and he’s covered in hickies. You shut your eyes in disbelief as they all go dead silent. 

“Oh - oh my god is that Spencer?,” JJ asks shocked. You’re going to throw yourself in front of a bus. 

“Shit,” Spencer bolts into the other room leaving you to deal with the mess. You were so gonna get him for that later. You give them all an apologetic look. 

“We, uh - yeah,” you say a little distant. They all just giving you a knowing look, even Garcia even though that’s mixed with a bit of disgust. 

“We’ll see you on Monday, Y/N,” Emily says, being an angel and cutting the conversation short. You just nod as she drags a blabbering Garcia and deadsilent JJ away, reminding yourself to send her a thank you note later on. You walk into the room with Spencer and he gives you a guilty look, eyes apologetic as you roll your eyes, walking up to him to kiss him. 

“You’re so goddamn lucky I like you, dickhead,”

“You like me?,” Spencer asks, wrapping his arms around your waist before falling over to lay down with you. 

“Oh shut up, you know I do,” your tone is mean but your face gives you away. Spencer kisses you long and slow before looking at you again. The room is barred with loving silence, it feels every part of the air. It’s domestic, soft and adoring. A person whose love made you feel child-like joy but whose being brought your soul such comfort. You and Spencer lay in your bedroom like that for a while. 

“We should change right?” you ask laughing. Spencer nods. 

“I have clothes for you in my dresser,” you remind. Spencer nods as he stands up, slipping on some boxers and a shirt. You change into some old college pj’s and shorts and get laid up next to Spencer. 

There’s this silence that fills the room. It’s difficult to describe, the feeling of it is so new and hard to pinpoint exactly. You can feel it just barely on your skin, the way Spencer's arms hold your waist as the two of you lay next to each other, closing the gaps of space that fall between you - just itching for that familiar feeling of closeness. Spencer Reid was the closest thing to heaven you ever got - scruffy face and curious eyes. It’s hard to find truth in another person, yet stil Spencer shows up for you and kisses away all your nightmares. Loving him was so certain, but the fact that he loved you too felt unreal, still. Maybe it always would. It was a lot for you to take in but the feeling of him at your side, face on your chest sleepily messing with your hands. The way he looks up at you with such a pretty expression, mouthing the words I love you. It was the silence in the room and the cadence it managed - the soft and lulling adoration buzzing the nerves on your skin and kissing you awake. This was more than love, but faith. A regained faith in the notion that good things really can happen to good people. Spencer's love to you was a promise from the universe that good things are always around you even if you don’t see it at first. 

Spencer is so relaxed against you now, you read his body language and can feel his exhaustion. You were so attuned to him, fingers aching  to run through his hair and tell him how proud you were. Spencer made your heart light - his beaming smile turning you flush. Beautiful - him, this, the universe. Loving Spencer made the world feel so beautiful, even though both of you encountered such darkness in it. You were going to marry him someday, you were so sure of it. Someday you and Spencer would grow old and live with some livestock in a cottage somewhere far from here like he wanted. Or maybe a house in the suburbs with two babies you call your own - and a cat, and a dog too. Anything would work for you, but Spencer is probably a bit more picky. 

For you and Dr. Spencer Reid, love has always been a case study in body language. People lie, or hide the truth when they talk - so the two of you have never fallen in love with the words you may exchange. Instead you’ve fallen in love with the gentle touches, the longing glances and lingering hugs - or the feeling of their skin on yours when the night is too cold to be alone. It was the dilating pupils, and the feelings that universe seemed to fall away when the two of you shared looks to each other. You fell for Spencers subconscious before you ever fell for his mind or his body - the little things he did like raising his shoulders when he was happy, or fiddling with your hands when he was deep in thought, you fell in love with the things Spencer would never see for himself and he did the same for you. Spencer fell for the way you moved without thinking. For the person you were when all the curtains were closed. 

Love is anything but conscious. Love is deep-rooted in the sheer notion of that being alive is worth something, which is to say love is the basis of life. Not romantic love - but all love. Love is the basis of life. Spencer Reid loved you, sharing a piece of his life. In returns you gave him yours. An eye for an eye can give us sight we could never have before, if the exchange is born of adoration. 

There are still so many unresolved knots to tie, but for now it didn’t matter. Just like those first two months, Spencer is laying at your side and he smells like you. For now, he was here with you - as the two of you fell so deeply for each other as the seconds passed. There are so many questions to answer, but that’s okay for now. 

You two had all the time in the world to figure the rest out, and for him - thats more than enough. 

This silence was more than enough.

____

taglist:  @cynbx​ @zephyr-studiesjp​ @skrrrrrrrrrrt​ @reid-187​ @louistwinslover​ @pastanest​ @nomajdetective​ @iamburdened​ @secretlyablueunicorn

[toshis-puppycat]

A/N: Whoa look it's me ya girl about to post an entirely new fic bcs she got into a new fandom!! Don't worry tho, Dreamscape will be updated soon! And oof will it hopefully be a good one for yall!! But anyways I wanna dedicate this fic to @traqicalromance bcs if she didn't show an interest in this show I would've never given it a second glance and honestly Ronnie you got all my uwus so this is for you!! I hope this is also enjoyed!! (Even if its not tho that's okay, still love yall!)

Unfortunately, I Think I Love You Too.

Summary: You were used to staying in the shadows of the pro-hero world, preferred it even. Unfortunately for you, Hawks needed help on a case and you were the only one able to provide it. Hopefully you wouldn't regret it.

Pairing: Takami Keigo (Hawks) x pro-hero!reader

Part One

Hawks was about to get stabbed with the way he was acting with you. Way too familiar for his own goddamn good and too goddamn smug with it. 

"Come on sweetheart, you gotta say something to me eventually." He said, flying right in your face, his smug smile in the right spot to get punched in.

"Hawks I swear to god, if you do not leave me the fuck alone I will hurt you." You deadpanned. 

"Swearing doesn't look good on your image sweetheart." He smirked, you did acknowledge him. But did he have to be like this. Why he was even talking to you was pissing you off, he was the number 2 pro-hero. Now while you were also a pro-hero you were not one 'worthy' of talking to someone of Hawks rank. No one knew your face like they did his. You were more like Eraserhead in that regard. Being an underground hero made you feel more comfortable, and it let you stay where you wanted. Hidden from villains when off duty. You'd be way happier if Hawks left you the fuck alone though, because he could find out what you looked like as a civilian and honestly thats something you wanted to avoid because God, Hawks bothering you when you were working was something you could deal with. But him harassing you off duty? Yeah it's a hard no from you. 

"Is there a reason you're harassing me Hawks?" You said, continuing your patrol of the area. 

"I have to ask for a favor for tonight." He said, now walking by you instead, you could feel his wing touching both of your shoulders. You could just feel the sigh coming up. After you two met the first time at a charity event, he never wanted to leave you alone. To him, it was just so interesting how no one knew what you actually looked like. How you kept your private life very very private was a mystery he wanted to solve. "I can't ask a civilian, but I can ask another hero." He said. This time you didn't bother to hold back the sigh. 

"Villains know what I look like Hawks." You said, stopping suddenly and turning to him. 

"That's true. But..." he trailed off, looking at you intensely. You could feel your patience running thin. "No one knows what you look like off duty. So I have to ask. Will you help me? You'll have to dress like a civilian but since no one knows what you look like I think this'll work well. No villain would be able to connect you to whoever you're trying to protect." He said quickly, looking at you earnestly. 

"Hawks, why the fuck would I-" he cut you off.

"Look. If you help me with this I'll keep my mouth shut for one and two I'll do whatever else you want. Anything." He said, smiling at you. You felt absolute euphoria at that statement, a gleam in your eye, that of course he couldn't see. But God you were going to take advantage of this offer. 

"You have to leave me alone. No bugging me during work, no trying to talk to me when I'm patrolling my area." You said, you almost started smiling. His smile dropped a little at your request, becoming strained. But then it came back full force.

"Does that mean I can see you off duty, sweetheart?" He asked, winking at you flirty as ever. You took a deep breath.

"Do not try and bother me off duty Hawks. I'm tired after work ya know." You said, quickly turning away from the winged hero, continuing the patrol that you were thankfully almost done with, he quickly caught up with you. 

"Come on though. I'm serious. I really do need someone to come with me for this. And no one knows what you look like. It's a perfect plan!" He said, smiling widely.

"You would know what I look like. Thats worse." You said, turning at the corner. 

"This could seriously help! Come on! They wouldn't believe anyone else if they come with me! They're too well known, you aren't. Because you didn't want to be well known." He said, quickly stepping in front of you and forcing you to a stop. "This could save people you know." 

You sighed. "Fine. But god Hawks, don't try to make it seem like I don't want to save people. And do not try to talk to me off duty." He smiled at you again, quickly grabbing his phone and shoving it in your face. You did a pretty good job avoiding hero friends. Preferring that no one actually get too close to you, Hawks was going to be the first and last hero you'd ever have any contact with off duty. You'd never been so glad to know that there was no one in the area. If they heard you, they'd be able to find out what you looked like. And that'd be bad. You pulled out your own phone and handed it to him. His smile seemed to get even wider and you resisted the urge to roll your eyes. "Don't get anything twisted, bird brain. This is for a case. Not for anything else." He quickly put his number in and you snatched it away, quickly walking off, only slightly turning to yell, "Oh yeah, bird brain make sure to tell me the occasion." 

—*—*—*—*—*—*—*—*—*—*—*—*—*—*—*—*—*

The occasion was thankfully not formal, you'd learn later. It was more of a casual thing. No dressing up too much. Thank God. You still didn't show Hawks what you looked like, the longer it took the better. You wore something cutesy for the first time in a few years, a white floral crop top and a high waisted burgundy skirt with tights. Sometimes you did miss dressing up. Wearing something cute to make someone swoon over you. You really wished that the first time you'd wear something like this didn't have to be with him. Your phone vibrated.

'Where are you?'- Hawks

You looked around for the familiar red wings you usually saw, immediately finding him, his back to you. You were walking in his direction before you could stop yourself, and before he saw you.

'Turn around bird brain.'- you

You heard his phone chirp, and he turned around. 

"You're lucky you're so easy to find." You stated, a little flirtatiously. Ignoring how he was slightly gaping at you. It was a fair thing, you were never really seen before and you were already putting on an act for whoever you needed to. He still didn't make a move to be near you, so instead you moved closer to him. Wrapping your arms around his neck and giving him a peck on the cheek. Bringing your face close to his ear and whispering, "Come on bird brain, don't blow this." That seemed to make him snap out of it, his arms quickly wrapping around your middle, holding you close. Usually you were trying to get him to leave you alone and now you had to act like you were his partner.  It was a weird feeling, one you were attempting to adapt to quickly. You moved your face away from his neck and gave him a dazzling smile. One he returned easily, okay maybe this wasn't going to be so bad. You two were led into the building. This was going to be easy.

—*—*—*—*—*—*—*—*—*—*—*—*—*—*—*—*—*

You regretted that thought now. At some point during this undercover operation with Hawks, someone noticed something so obscure on you that it blew both of your covers and you didn't even know what the fuck it was. It wasn't until you were pinned down by a villain, that you found out what it was that set them off. It was you. Someone recognized you, which should have been impossible. Especially coming from a villain. It wasn't until they whispered how happy their boss was going to be that you were alive that it registered who they were to you though. And it wasn't anyone that was great to you when you were younger. Of course the one and only time you'd ever shown your face again would be the time he would be able to find you. You kicked the villain off of yourself, quickly moving into a defensive position. You were shaking, you were actually terrified. They found you. Next thing you knew, there were several fellow pro-heros in front of you, quickly rounding up the rest of the villains that weren't already knocked out. You could've fainted when you actually registered it. Then Hawks was in front of you shielding your face from the other heros with his wings, and you were being led out away from the police force cars and others. If it was anyone else you were with being led away would've made you scared. You were already shaken, anyone would've been able to see it. This would be the only time you'd say you actually felt safer with someone who annoyed you. 

"Hey sweetheart come on. Come back to me." You him faintly. He sounded so concerned. It was probably because of how wet your face felt. Oh. It was because of that. You were crying, and because you were crying you were hyperventilating. Your hands were gripping at the collar of his jacket. Fuck. This was not one of your finer moments.

"Don't you dare mention this to anyone." You choked out, finally taking deeper breaths to regulate your racing heart..

"Come on sweetheart, you should know me better than that." He said, arms wrapping  around you like they did earlier. Although way less flirty and sexual, it felt more intimate. Your heart finally stopped racing. You were still terrified, but there wasn't any time to fall back into that panicked state. You had to start planning. Unfortunately Hawks was thinking the same thing, seeing you panicked like that was something he never wanted to see again and ever have you experience. You were hiding something, and he was going to be the one to find out what.

—*—*—*—*—*—*—*—*—*—*—*—*—*—*—*—*—*

Taglist: @onyxiana-is-obsessed, @neon-tries-writing, @shiggi-trash

If you wanna be added to the taglist for this, please let me know!

[takonei]

Beta AU - Main story, Chapter 5, daily life (Part 5)

Note of the author: Merry (early) crisis yall! Have your favorite AU updated <3

Chapter 5: An oath to one’s lost humanity - Daily life

"..."

"..."

"..."

"Today."

"At last, I'll be free."

"I'll finally be free."

--

Day 21 since the beginning of the game.

7:00 AM.

Shuichi woke up earlier than he expected to.

He sat up crossed-legged on his bed, eyes slowly focusing on the other side of the room.

Not even a minute after waking up he could feel his heart racing in his chest.

He missed the moments that feeling was reserved to stress due to an exam.

Tonight they will have to fight for humanity's sake.

The stakes were too high for him. One misstep and they could all die. No matter how many times he tried to accept it, he just couldn't.

But now was not the time to be scared, nor to doubt.

...

Perhaps some of the others were awake as well.

Shuichi made his usual morning routine- one that could be the last.

He stepped out of the dorms, quietly closing the door behind him.

The 'sun' was slowly rising, although he could not sense any sort of warmth from it.

The violinist took out his monopad to see if anyone was awake.

And to his surprise, no one -aside from Ryoma- had left the dorms. Even Rantaro was in his room.

Somehow, that gave him a sense of comfort. At least he slept in a bed last night.

What could he even do in the meantime?

He glanced at the wisterias not so far away.

A few days ago, Kirumi and he were watching the sunrise from above the pergola. He had fought his fears to climb to the top, so perhaps he could try to do the same today, to fight one fear at a time.

He approached the structure and placed a hand on the wooden pillar.

Shuichi had managed to climb it up and down last time, so why not now?

After some clumsy attempts, he somehow managed to make his way up here, trying to keep his balance on the beams.

He sat down. This time there wasn't anyone with him. Just him and his thoughts.

At least it was peaceful.

He closed his eyes and tried to mentally rest a little.

This was one of the last moments he could be at peace before the fight.

...

But soon after, the silence was interrupted by the sound of footsteps.

"Didn't expect to see you up here."

He jumped at the voice and turned around.

Rantaro was looking at him from the ground.

"O-Oh... Hi Rantaro...."

"What are you doing up here?"

Shuichi glanced back at the beautiful morning colors. "Nothing. I know the sky is fake but watching the sunrise does help me mentally calm down a little."

Although he didn't look back at his friend, he could still guess he was contemplating the scenery as well.

After a moment, Rantaro grabbed one of the small tree's branches to get on the pergola. "Mind if I join?"

Even though he was a bit nervous, Shuichi couldn't refuse. "No... Go ahead."

After easily making his way up, he sat down next to him, legs hanging down under the floral roof and arms resting on his thighs.

To his surprise, he didn't speak at all. Both were staring at the horizon for what felt like an eternity.

...

"So, relaxing you say?"

Shuichi was almost startled. "Y-Yeah! You think so as well?"

The medic hadn't even turned his head towards him.

"... You could say that."

Somehow he didn't sound convincing at all.

Upon a closer look, Shuichi could see his hands gripping one another, and it looked like he was doing his best to refrain from shaking.

Overall a worrying position added to an emerald gaze that never healed from the last deaths.

The words he read in Kiyo's notebook were lingering on his mind.

He was the one in charge of helping Rantaro to get back on his feet as soon as possible. For both his own well being and the entire group's.

"H-Hey..."

Rantaro hummed. "What is it?"

It wasn't like he was the best therapist. Far from it. One word and Rantaro would go away, isolating himself like he did for the past two days.

He had one shot that he couldn't waste.

"Why... Do you care so much about helping people?"

...

Silence.

"I-I mean... Ever since the beginning you try to help us to the point where you don't even think about yourself anymore... Why?"

...

"To make sure others are alive and safe is the reason I exist on this planet. Simple as that."

This was not as simple as he says it is.

"You said it yourself back then, I know, but... How can you do that? How can you spend so much time and effort into protecting us all? I don't understand..." he almost desperately yelled.

"Some things cannot be explained. Even I do not know where this instinct came from. I just follow it because this is what feels right."

"And if it leads me to the freedom and safety of this group, then so be it."

An instinct...

"What about yourself? You're more than just an instinct! You're Rantaro, you're our friend! And... and..."

Shuichi trailed off. He didn't have the right words to spit out.

But what made him worry the most is the fact that Rantaro hadn't moved a single inch. His eyes kept staring at the horizon.

No response.

...

"Please, Rantaro... We're here for you. You don't have to bear this alone."

No matter what he said, the medic wasn't responding.

Shuichi felt his throat tighten.

Every second felt like a year passing by.

...

"It matters more than you would think."

He blinked. "What...?"

"I know that's what you think too. You can't tell everyone about your secrets to the risk of telling the wrong person."

"I do not know what you have discovered throughout the game and I am not going to ask."

"You never realize when eavesdroppers will take pleasure in listening to your own thoughts."

He froze. Did he... Did he realize that Shuichi knew about the morse code?

"Sometimes you have to take things into your own hands no matter the cost. Because even your closest allies can betray you in the end."

"It's a game where the boundary of trust and betrayal is nothing more than a thin line you can cross whenever you please."

"You could close your eyes and isolate yourself for the entire day and night, but you cannot achieve anything by never taking any risks. At some point, you have to put your life on the line and hope to get a pair of aces."

"Always be careful and never, ever lower your guard. Because one mistake and your pair of aces burns into ashes."

... And thus the refusal to talk about himself.

A fear of slipping up and end up killing the last glimmers of hope for humanity.

Shuichi glanced down for a moment. "I understand, but I... No, we realized you've been acting strange... You can't just expect us to give up on you like that."

He swallowed. "You're not okay, Rantaro."

...

Silence.

"Ha ha..."

Shuichi perked up.

Rantaro started laughing. He could only look at him giggling to himself- or at him? At this point, he didn't know in the slightest, but... That was not a sad laugh. That almost looked like a genuine one.

"There's really something wrong with me, isn't there?"

"I know that already. I know life has completely fucked me up from the bottom to the top."

"But what can I do? The only way I can move on is by putting a stop to this game."

"No matter how much my own conscious is begging me to stop and no matter how many painful memories it brings back to me, I won't stop."

"I won't be able to die in peace until I'm absolutely sure this game is over."

Shuichi held even more onto the wooden bar he was sitting on. "I..."

He perfectly knew changing Rantaro's mind was impossible. That was not the problem.

"Please just... Just promise me you'll talk to us after the fight. I can't go any longer knowing you're not taking care of yourself."

"I don't care about how many things you're hiding from us, I don't care if you have things you don't want to tell me! We all want you to get better so just please listen to us for once! None of us want you to suffer alone anymore!!"

He felt tears forming in his eyes.

But despite pouring all of his feelings out...

... Rantaro was still not looking at him in the eye.

The medic lowered his head.

"... Alright. But I need some time alone right now if you don't mind."

"Huh?"

Rantaro stood up.

"W-Wait! I'm not-

"I will think about it. However..."

He eyed him. "... I know I've only made you uncomfortable these last few days. Thank you for keeping up with me but I know it doesn't do any good to you. It's pretty obvious from the look on your face."

Shuichi felt his heart skip a beat. He couldn't disagree in the slightest. That was actually the painful truth.

But no one else aside from Kirumi is aware of this problem. He couldn't just give up like that.

"W-Wait, that doesn't mean you should not listen to what I just said!"

It was a bit late for that.

Rantaro took off his jacket, wrapped it around one of the wooden beams, and used it to get down.

He had to catch up to him before he ends up locking himself up in a room again.

The violinist knew that was not a good idea, but he had to get down fast.

He held onto one of the beams so he could get down, but...

"Ah!-"

... He let go of it. Shuichi tried to grab the vines but they were not strong enough to hold him back.

He painfully crashed on the ground.

Thankfully it wasn't too bad, the fall didn't do too much damage, but it still hurt.

"Shuichi!!"

Rantaro immediately ran up to him. "Are you alright??"

"Y-Yeah... I think so..."

His hands were stinging. But when he looked at them, he realized there were several cuts from the vines, letting out a small amount of blood.

"You're coming with me to my lab. Right now."

Shuichi didn't have time to protest. Rantaro grabbed him by the wrist and guided him to the third floor.

The fall did hurt but it wasn't like he broke anything. He could still move, although with some difficulty.

Once in his lab, Rantaro started going through the drawers.

"Sit down. I'm taking care of you. Do you feel any other injuries besides your hands?"

"My back hurts a little, but I don't think it is much..."

"Take your shirt off. I should check anyway."

It wasn't like he could refuse. Rantaro wouldn't let him go like this.

He did at told, putting the torn shirt aside. He would have to get a new one.

He watched Rantaro searching and taking out various bandages and bottles.

Shuichi looked at his hands again. The cuts looked pretty nasty on second thought.

The medic approached him and started treating the hand wounds with caution. Gentle moves that were mesmerizing.

From the disinfectant -the part that probably hurt the most-, to the bandages. He didn't even have to tell him if it was too loose or too tight, he simply applied it without a second thought, although still very carefully.

Even right now, he was living up to his talent.

"There. That's it for the hands."

Shuichi looked at the bandages. They were surprisingly comfortable. "Thank you, but... Do you think I'll manage to bear the weapons tonight?"

Rantaro hummed. "We'll give you lighter weapons. But in the meantime, I suggest you should try to find gloves to make sure the bandages won't get ripped off during the fight."

He nodded. "O-Okay."

The medic proceeded to help with his back. There weren't any wounds or anything that could require bandages, so he simply put on soothing cream and gave him some light painkillers.

Shuichi put his shirt back on, fastening the buttons. "Thanks a lot, Rantaro. I'm sorry I caused some trouble here."

"It's fine, don't sweat it."

Shuichi watched Rantaro putting things back where they were.

He then approached the door to open it. "Now let's just go back to... the dining hall..."

The medic trailed off, stopping in his tracks.

"Rantaro?"

He put a hand on his head. "It's fine, I'm just feeling... a little..."

Before Shuichi realized what was happening, Rantaro collapsed on the floor.

"Rantaro!!"

The violinist rushed to him. "Rantaro! Are you okay?!"

No response. At least he was breathing, just unconscious.

"No, no, no, no..."

He wrapped one of the medic's arms around his shoulder and tried to stand up to put him to bed.

An unconscious body is very heavy, he quickly realized.

At last, he managed to get himself into a -barely- standing position when-

*knock* *knock* *knock*

He immediately turned to the door. "Huh?"

The door opened to reveal Kirumi.

The two stared at each other for a while before Shuichi realized he was holding onto an unconscious Rantaro.

Kirumi's expression was one of both concern and confusion. "What. Are you doing."

"... Help me, please."

"And what happened?" she approached Rantaro and help him up.

"He was treating a wound I got earlier and as soon as he got finished, he collapsed..."

The mercenary sighed. "I should have expected that, somehow."

The two helped to put him into bed. Kirumi put her hand on his forehead. "... He's burning. Get a wet tissue while I properly lay him down."

Shuichi applied the object where she told him. He didn't know if that would help or not, though.

They could only hope he would wake up soon.

Kirumi looked at the violinist, or more precisely, his hands.

"... May I ask what happened?"

Shit.

He explained the story to her, how the two were talking on the pergola, then after a failed landing, Rantaro insisted on treating his wounds. At least he didn't have anything to hide this time, aside from the conversation itself.

"... I see." she turned to the medic. "He better wake up before the time limit. This is going to be a huge problem if he doesn't."

"Agreed... But what can we do?"

She narrowed her eyes at the sleeping teen. "I don't know. There's not much we can do while he is sleeping."

Shuichi looked at him as well. "He has been worrying me for days now... And yet we have no clue what is wrong with him."

"I would say that he collapsed from exhaustion, judging by how he was acting the past few days. Rantaro needs to rest, and he better stay in bed until we do the actual preparations for the fight."

"I know... Should one of us stay with him until he wakes up?"

"That would have been the ideal situation if we didn't have the final battle to prepare."

Shuichi winced. She was right... The more people preparing, the bigger their chance of winning.

He thought about their conversation. What did Rantaro mean by his words?

"He better talk to us after the fight... Because Kiyo is not with us anymore doesn't mean we should-

The door opened behind them.

The two immediately turned around to see Miu.

There was a long silence as she glanced at both the two and Rantaro sleeping on the bed.

"May I ask what's going on?"

Her tone was serious. Nothing like the Miu they are used to talk to, but rather...

... The one he listened to back after the first day of the Sanzu garden, after her time with Kokichi in the room.

"M-Miu?"

"What. Is going on."

She approached Rantaro to get a better view.

Kirumi and Shuichi glanced at each other for a moment. He had no choice but to explain- although he omitted a lot of details, mostly about the conversation they had.

Right now was not the time to panic. It pained him to say it, but to address the problem in its entirety after the fight would be a wiser choice.

Miu stood by his side. "... The morning announcement will ring soon. Shuichi, go and change your shirt. Kirumi, could you please start making breakfast for everyone and a separate one for Rantaro and me?"

"No offense, Miu, but if Rantaro collapsed from exhaustion I do not think he will wake up for at least a few hours." Kirumi explained. "I can make one for you, of course, though."

She hummed. "Fair enough."

The two left the lab and closed the door.

"I didn't think Miu would get dragged into this as well." Kirumi stated.

Shuichi looked away from a moment. "I mean... She is very protective of us all, especially Rantaro... It's pretty useless to try to oppose her."

"Agreed." She said. "Do you want me to search for gloves while you change your shirt?"

Shuichi's eyes widened. "You would do that for me?"

"It isn't much. Just go to your room."

He smiled. "Thank you, Kirumi!"

The violinist walked back to his dorm. The moment he entered, the morning announcement rang.

Surely, the rest of the group would come soon.

A simple shirt, and another day of leaving the vest and tie behind.

He really hoped his injuries wouldn't handicap them too much.

At least his back and hands hurt a bit less now.

On his way back to the main building, he saw neither Kaito nor Kokichi, but perhaps it was too early for that.

He opened the door and saw Kirumi putting the plates down on the table.

"You're back."

The mercenary approached him. "Maki's lab had gloves in one of the drawers. I hope they are of your taste." she handed him a pair of plain black thin gloves that he put on immediately. Thankfully they fit him correctly.

"Thanks a lot!"

"Do not worry about it."

The two ended up preparing breakfast, leaving a small part for Miu.

Shuichi took it to the third floor.

Once arrived, he knocked on the door and opened it.

The street artist was cleaning up the lab.

"I got your breakfast. Should I leave it on the table?"

"Yes, please. Thank you."

He glanced at Rantaro again. "Do you... plan on watching over him until he wakes up?"

"For now yes. I've turned my back on him for far too long. He may be good at taking care of others but..."

"... It's about time I do it back for him."

Miu had a noble soul. It wasn't surprising she would start worrying at some point, but...

Had she even the slightest idea of what was going on behind the scenes?

"... I can't convince you not to, can I?"

They needed as many people as they could to train, and of course, that included Miu.

"Nope. I'm staying until I'm absolutely sure he wakes up."

As much as it pained him to say it, no one could even try to convince her otherwise. At least not now.

"Alright. Just come to us if you need anything, okay?"

She gave him a thumbs-up as he left.

After closing the door, he let out a sigh.

Hopefully, things would turn out okay for everyone. Not just for the fight, but everything after.

He went back to the dining hall.

He and Kirumi had to wait a few more minutes before Kaito and Kokichi joined them.

They had to explain the situation and how for now Miu wasn't going to join them for the last training sessions.

Breakfast was eaten in silence as usual. However, there were even fewer of them than usual. Just Kirumi, Kaito, Kokichi, and himself.

"What do we do now? It's the last day..." Kokichi asked.

"To be frank, I wouldn't risk doing serious physical exercises right now. We need all of our energy to fight tonight." Kirumi noted.

"Yeah! We kinda have to make a strategy too!" Kaito exclaimed. "We can't just say 'let's take the weapons and fight' without an actual plan!"

He was right. But right now, not everyone was here.

"But there are only four of us... We should at least wait for Rantaro and Miu to come back." he said.

"Agreed. For now, I suggest you all try to work on your aim. That's the least we can do right now." Kirumi suggested.

The group of four headed to Tenko's lab. Kaito had never done aiming exercises before, now that he thought about it.

Kokichi and himself had -although he spent a part of the 'training' reading Kiyo's notebook- already done some exercises, so the biker was the only one among them who hadn't.

He did end up having some trouble with the moving targets, but overall the training was paying off, for the three of them.

Since Kokichi and Shuichi already received training, they had better accuracy. Kokichi was better than him, though. He didn't even need darts exercises, but now that he thought about it, there was a possibility he was already familiar with them.

Unfortunately, Miu was not coming. And of course, neither was Rantaro.

"Should we... At least try to get those two?" Kaito asked.

"Miu said she would come with Rantaro after he wakes up, but... It's been a while, isn't it?" Kokichi fidgeted with his sleeve.

"She will have to train at some point and join us for the strategy meeting. We cannot leave her alone when we don't even know when Rantaro will wake up." Kirumi added.

Perhaps now they were more likely to convince her to join them, after spending several hours by his side.

"It's 12 PM anyway... Should we take a lunch break and then get Miu for the training and strategy? Assuming Rantaro will wake up later..." he suggested.

"I mean yeah... I know she can be really stubborn but we gotta do something." Kaito glanced to the side.

The group agreed and went back to the dining hall.

Of course, no Miu in sight. But to their surprise, the table was already set with meals in food cloches.

"Did Miu prepare everything for us?" Kokichi approached the table. "She’s not here, though…"

Kaito groaned. "And here I thought I was the stubborn one. I’ll be right back, just going to get her."

The biker left immediately, leaving the other three in the dining hall.

They decided to wait for the two to come back.

…

After five long minutes, there was still nothing.

"Should I… Should I try to see what’s happening?" Shuichi asked.

"It would be better. Although I’m starting to wonder whether the two are arguing or not." Kirumi said. "If Rantaro is still unconscious then I wouldn’t be surprised if those two started bickering about this."

She had a point. Miu was trying to help Kaito change back after the third trial, perhaps he would try to do the same?

Shuichi left the dining hall and started heading to the third floor.

But to his surprise, it’s on the second floor that he saw a frustrated Kaito, alone.

"I-Is she still not willing to come with us?”

The answer was obvious, but he asked anyway.

"I tried to tell her it was useless to stay by his side the entire day and that she didn’t need to do that but noooo! She has to!” he almost yelled. "I’m glad she’s here as the mom of the group but she does a little too much to my taste."

This was understandable. And Shuichi was getting sick of the selfless mindset.

"Still… Did you tell her we had to plan the strategy for the fight?"

"I did! But she said she needed time to think. Like I know she cares about us and everything but goddamn! She doesn’t need to devote her entire life to someone else!"

… Shuichi preferred not to comment on that.

"If she doesn’t come back after lunch, I’m getting her by force. I’m not letting her stay alone for the rest of the day." Kaito started going back to the first floor. "I know she cares about Rantaro and I do too, but this isn’t helping her."

Her caring attitude had started being contagious, Shuichi noticed.

The two boys went back to the dining hall, their mission unsuccessful.

Kirumi and Kokichi did wait for them to come back before starting to eat.

"I guess you couldn’t convince her…" Kokichi lowered his head.

"I’ll be checking again later. She said she wanted to think about it." Kaito responded.

Shuichi really hoped he will manage to convince her.

Lunch was silent, with more tension than usual. Even though there were seven of them, it looked like only four of them were alive.

8 hours until the time limit.

They started putting things off in the kitchen, Kaito thinking about what he was going to say to Miu.

"H-Hey, Kaito…"

The biker turned to the source of the low voice.

"What’s up, Kokichi?"

The silver-haired boy fidgeted with his sleeves. "Can I... Can I try to convince her to join us? I know you said you would try to do so but I want to talk to her..."

The taller man blinked a few times. "You sure about this? Miu is stubborn as hell, I know that better than anyone."

"Perhaps Kokichi is right." Kirumi put down the old rag she was holding. "Bickering back and forth probably won’t do any good to any of you. But that is just my opinion."

The biker stared at her for a moment. "I know her better than you, y’know? We may be stubborn as hell but she’s my best friend."

Shuichi swallowed. "Yes, but you saw how it went, right? I think... I think Kokichi should be the one to talk…"

Kaito stayed silent, pondering. "… Alright."

"I’m leaving this to you, young man!" he said as he ruffled Kokichi’s hair- although he didn’t seem to appreciate it much.

"O-Okay!" he said as he put his hair back in place, heading out, and leaving the three to clean the rest of the table.

Without Kokichi, Shuichi could feel even more tension in the room. He knew full well Kirumi and Kaito were not getting along well.

Hopefully, they would form a better relationship soon.

Even after they were done, Kokichi still hadn’t come back.

"What do we do now? I trust Kokichi with this, but still- We have to do something in the meantime." Kaito leaned against the wall.

Kirumi thought for a moment. "We still have to establish our strategy. It would be better if we go to Tsumugi’s lab for this. I know Miu, Kokichi, Rantaro, and Ryoma are not here but we don’t have a choice at this point."

She was right. They didn’t have much time left. And besides, by going to the fourth floor, they would have to pass next to the medic’s lab. Perhaps they could get a glimpse of the situation.

The trio started going up the stairs. But the moment they entered the corridor leading to the stairs and Rantaro’s lab, they saw both Miu and Kokichi closing the door behind them.

"Miu! You’re here!" Shuichi almost exclaimed, approaching her.

She didn’t seem that enthusiastic to see them, though. "Yeah… I know I gotta watch over Rantaro, but… I can’t just leave you guys like that. That’s unlike me."

The street artist slapped her own cheeks. "Alright! What are we doing now? Training?"

"Not exactly. We’re establishing our strategy to fight Monokuma and the exisals." Kirumi explained.

Miu hummed. "Okay, but we don’t even know what type of weapons Ryoma prepared for us! Rantaro may know, but I know I don’t."

Shuichi thought for a moment. "I think Ryoma is preparing diverse weapons of different weights adapted to all of us. Although I’m not really sure…" He stared at his gloved, bandaged hands for a moment. "At least Rantaro told me I would get lighter weapons for the fight, so I think there’s at least some variety."

"In any case, it is better to start planning our strategy as soon as possible." Kirumi added.

"W-Wait… Won’t Monokuma eavesdrop on us?" Kokichi asked. "He could listen to our plan and find a way to counter it… Even the walls have ears."

He raised a good point.

"So, we need like, a closed small room to make sure he doesn’t come and listen?" Kaito crossed his arms.

"Then how about the dorms? We can lock our rooms, Monokuma can’t enter! We should just keep our voices low, or better- only write on paper what we want to say, like secret agents!" Miu exclaimed.

Only writing on paper so Monokuma doesn’t hear them…

It almost sounded familiar.

The group headed back to the first floor to leave the main building.

They also established that they would try to wake up Rantaro if he doesn’t come back by 5 PM.

But for now, they were going to the dorms. Or more specifically, Miu’s dorm. She volunteered to be the host since she claimed to have a lot of paper and pens already in her room.

She opened the door and bent down, gesturing for them to go inside. "Welcome to the mighty lair of the firefly of the city! Only allies of mine are allowed to enter."

Shuichi chuckled as he stepped into the room. "Thank you, Miu."

Kaito snickered. "We talking nicknames now? I’ve been called ‘Silver Rider’ for ages!"

"Sometimes people call me ‘Apollo’, although I don’t think that’s very fitting…" Shuichi nervously scratched the back of his neck.

Kirumi sighed. "At least you three can be proud of your nicknames. ‘The Devil’s right arm’ is not very flattering."

Shuichi felt chills at the words. "That’s… Original…"

Kokichi sat on the ground. "At least it’s better than being known as a supernatural catastrophe…"

This conversation turned dark very quickly. Which is not what he wanted in the slightest.

"Um… Should we change the subject?"

"Very well."

“Agreed.”

Miu gave them all a stack of paper and pens for them to write and suggest ideas. She turned on her monopod and started sketching the academy’s map to visualize themselves better.

To debate without talking was hard, but doable. At least they were making progress.

Kokichi would serve as a distraction since he was very fast and hopefully he would have bombs to do damage to the exisals.

Kirumi and Miu would form a team as well as Ryoma and Kaito to inflict a lot of damage- one experienced fighter and one who could still fight despite not being in the field.

Shuichi would have to place bombs in specific places and with the help of the others, guide the exisals to a deadly trap.

However, they would have to explain to Rantaro that it would be safer for him to stay on the sidelines in case someone gets hurt.

They were still planning the details, but at least everyone had a role now.

But as they were about to continue, there was a knock on the door.

They all stared at each other for a moment.

Miu hesitantly approached the entrance of her room.

The person behind the door knocked again, but something felt familiar.

Four knocks, loud and clear.

This was exactly what Rantaro did back when they had to retrieve Ryoma from his lab a few days ago.

"Miu! It’s Rantaro, you can open!"

She raised an eyebrow. "Huh? How can you know?"

A voice came from behind the door.

"Because he learned how I make myself known."

And the voice, even though he could barely hear it, was indeed Rantaro’s.

Miu immediately opened.

"You’re here! I was so worried about you!" She held him in a firm embrace that visibly startled him.

"Hey, hey, it’s fine. I was just a bit tired, that’s all."

Shuichi briefly glanced at Kirumi, who did the same.

Miu locked the door behind her and started writing on the paper.

_We’re writing so Monokuma can’t eavesdrop on us! So take a pen while we explain what we're doing!_

Rantaro nodded, took the green pen and a sheet of paper.

_That’s pretty smart._

She smiled.

Kirumi started writing the strategy and Rantaro took the time to listen- or rather, read. He did ask a few questions but wasn’t opposed to what they came up with.

It took some time to reexplain, but at least they got to remember better their roles and positions.

But then came up the question they all feared.

_What is my role in this?_

They all stared at each other until Kirumi took her pen.

_Since you’re the only one who can provide medical assistance, you’ll stay on the sidelines, or at least not take too many risks. Is this fine with you?_

Rantaro stared at the message for quite some time before sighing.

_As much as I hate this, it would indeed be wiser. But are you all going to be fine by yourselves? No offense, but I am still one of the only three who have experience in combat._

Miu immediately started responding.

_Count on us! We trained a lot, you know? I know we’re far from real fighters like Kirumi, Ryoma and you, but we can still manage! Besides, we still have Ryoma’s weapons with us!_

A short moment of pure silence.

_You’re right. Sorry for doubting you._

_It’s fine! But we still have to establish a lot of things for the plan. Shall we continue?_

He nodded.

The group carefully planned their tactics, where everyone had to be, and what they had to do. They would have to be cautious and strike perfectly.

Shuichi started feeling more and more stressed due to the incoming battle, but they would have to do this. They were this close to the end of the game.

Time passed as they used more and more paper to write their messages, sheets of paper scattered across the floor filled with different writings in different colors.

About two hours later, they were finally done.

Shuichi leaned back, sighing. "Good grief, it's over..."

"Hey! We're not done! We'll have to put that entire strategy in place tonight and win!" Miu exclaimed.

Rantaro stood up. "But Shuichi is right. I think we’re done here. However, we still have to explain the strategy to Ryoma. It’s about time we finally get to see what he crafted for us."

"Agreed. Shall we go to his lab?" Kirumi added.

"Yes. I think now is the perfect time to plan the final details."

Shuichi nodded.

The group left Miu’s dorm with the papers in a pouch not to leave any hints on what they are going to do.

They were ready to inform Ryoma, and thus headed to the main building.

But the second Miu opened the main door, something didn’t feel quite right.

It looked like another blackout occurred.

Shuichi frowned. "Again?"

Kirumi narrowed her eyes. "One time could have been an accident, but now I am starting to think this was done on purpose."

Rantaro looked at the dark corridor. "Let’s just hope Ryoma was still able to finish the weapons even with those suspicious blackouts."

The group glanced at each other and started going up the stairs.

Shuichi didn’t like this in the slightest.

The whole building was in the dark yet again, and it sure as hell looked like someone was doing this voluntarily, as Kirumi said.

Was this the way the mastermind was trying to stop them?

Once on the fifth floor, Rantaro approached the door.

He knocked four times as he always did, Shuichi supposed.

…

No response.

Rantaro frowned. "Come on…"

He knocked again.

Still no answer.

Shuichi started feeling more and more nervous.

The medic placed a hand on the handle and tried to open the door, hoping it wouldn’t be locked.

And to everyone’s surprise, it was not.

The lab looked plunged in the dark, with only the emergency lights slightly illuminating the area around the door.

"Ryoma?" Rantaro called.

…

Nothing.

They glanced at each other, fearing for the worst.

The group started moving through the lab to get to his working panel.

In the distance, Shuichi could see the faint light of a ceiling lamp, flickering in the darkness of the engineer's lab.

How did that light survive the blackout?

But the second the workbench was into view, he felt his heart drop.

The dark atmosphere was not enough to hide the atrocity his eyes were offering him.

A small chair was knocked down on the floor next to the table.

A rope was attached to one of the metal beams, and connected to it, illuminated by the faint white light of the barely surviving lamp…

… was the hanged body of Ryoma Hoshi, the ultimate weapons maker.

[pies-writes-and-more]

PIES’ FIC RECOMMENDATIONS FOR JUNE 2020

Click HERE for the amazing fics I read in May 2020!

NOTE: If you’ve got an incredible fic that you are super proud of or if you think that I should read something you’ve read, PLEASE SEND IT TO ME! I’m really big on StevexFem!Reader, BuckyxFem!Reader, WandaxFem!Reader, CarolxFem!Reader, and Stucky fics!!! (And of course any fics with gender neutral readers is ALWAYS welcome :) )

If you do end up reading these fics, please tag me if you reblog them or comment on them!! I’d love to see your guys’ reactions :)

PS. if these links dont work for some reason, please let me know so I can update this list because I was very distracted halfway through making this so it might not be perfect!

SPECIAL MENTION FIC/POEM RECOMMENDATION

Okay so I’m not doing this because I’m trying to give myself a shoutout however, @wxstedhexrt​ and I have been collaborating in a poetry inspired fanfic collection called Falling! Tis a BuckyxFem!Reader series and if I do say so myself, it’s fucking adorable. 

The real reason I’m mentioning it is because @wxstedhexrt​‘s poems are some of the most real and gorgeously written things I’ve ever met so please give them a look! 

She has this series on Achilles and Patroclus, this collection about the word Silver, gorgeous poems from last year (involving Icarus, Apollo, and Helen of Troy), and so many more!!! Check out the tag #poetry or #mywriting on her blog!!! Send her some love :)

ANYWAYS BACK TO THE FANFICS!

1. Homecoming by @scentedsongrebel | Steve Rogers x Desi!Reader “You bring Steve to Mumbai to meet your family“ Yall want some wonderful representation in your fic reading!!??? READ THIS ONE! It’s so fucking wholesome and I love the whole story line of Steve learning more about his partner’s culture so that he can impress her family. Fucking adorable. 100% fluff with a wonderfully diverse reader and author!!!!

2. Iced Tea by @kaunis-sielu | Steve Rogers x Fem!Reader I don’t think there’s an official summary for this fic ( @kaunis-sielu pls correct me if I’m wrong) BUT LEMME TELL YALL. I AM A SUCKER FOR BIKER FICS. WE LOVE BIKER STEVE. This was 100% FLUFFY and we LOVE IT. Amazing job!!!!!!

3. let me show you by @moteldwelling | Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader bucky gives reader a “redo” on her first time, and takes her virginity. Listen here people. This smut took my soul and dragged me to hell and back. I am a SUCKER for Bucky fics but this one like took my life away. We love a man who makes sure his lady is having a good time when being intimate with her!!!!! we stan a good boi. Anyways if I keep thinking about this fic, I’mma need to go shower so I’mma end this here. Go read for yourselves and then cry with me about why Bucky Barnes isn’t in our lives. 18+ readers only of course! 100% HOT. FUCKING. SMUT.

4. Under the Rainbow, Draga mea by @binkysteebnpewter | Wanda Maximoff x Fem!Reader Again, I don’t think there’s an official summary for this (pls correct me if I’m wrong @binkysteebnpewter) and YES, I KNOW i put this in my May recommendations but I finished reading the series in JUNE so it is HERE AGAIN and DESERVES to be HERE AGAIN BECAUSE WE LOVE FICS WITH 100% GAY SHIT AND LOVE <3 I am a fucking sucker for the love that Wanda and this Reader have together. If you’re not convinced, ask @wxstedhexrt how much I cried reading it lol. anyways an amazing series that I will continue to go back reading again and again because i LOVE wlw fics <3 

5. Oh no, that’s bad by @andyl394 | Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader You’re a college student, you’re mad angry, Bucky ruins your paper, that’s not good is it? I read through this 20-part series like there was NO TOMORROW and god DAMN. We love hilarious social media AUs but this one really killed me. I always love Bucky who is soft and shy in fics but the Bucky in this fic was a LITTLE SHIT and i had so much ANGST. Anyways, if you read this fic, you may want to slap the characters BUT I PROMISE THERES AN ADORABLE HAPPY ENDING!!!! 100% INCREDIBLE

6. Home by @evanstush | Steve Rogers x Fem!Reader It’s been 2 years since the last battle and it’s now Morgan’s 7th birthday, and well, Tony being Tony, he prepared a small party for her little girl, inviting everyone from the team, including you. So Kate decided to rip my heart out with this fic and have me on my knees sobbing so that’s cool. That’s it, that’s all I have to say. JK, this fic actually is like half and half FLUFF and ANGST but lord is it worth it. Kate, you know I adore you so much and your fics play a big part in why! God this girl deserves more love on these stories because holy shit I’m DEAD.

7. Baby Self by @honeyloverogers | Steve Rogers x Fem!Reader Alternative to Babies! Assemble, What if it was you that got turned into a baby instead? YALL WANT FUCKING FLUFF!?!?!?! 1000000000% FLUFFFFFFF AND CUTENESSSSSS (with like a little bit of a piece of shit lady who comes around but like its cool because a baby says fuck lol) THIS WAS A FIC WRITTEN LIKE NO OTHER. I LOVED IT SO MUCH. IT WAS SO PERFECT. Think of endgame and that moment when Scott turns into a baby??? Yeah now scratch that and think of Y/N if SHE turned into a baby and the avengers couldn’t figure out how to turn her back right away so now everyone has to take care of this baby HGOIDHFOISHFOISDHF the baby fever was so real in this fic ughhhhh <3 

8. Insecurities by @evanstush | Steve Rogers x Fem!Reader You’re 7 months pregnant, and you can’t help be so insecure about some things. And here’s Kate again bringing me back to life with more wholesome fluff and a wholesome husband who loves his wife so fucking much and ugh i- i read this fic over and over sometimes and it just makes me realize how much i want this adhfoiasjdfoi <3 I aint pregnant but if I WAS i would want this steve to be comforting me ugh 103874203847% FLUFFFFFFF <3 

9. Requested fic (idk if it has a name??? sorry) by @donutloverxo | Steve Rogers x Fem!Reader Request: Hey, as for the headcanon requests how about Steve giving a lift to a girl in need when it's raining heavily or smth? I don't know where this idea came from 😅 Did yall need some confirmation that Sarah Rogers raised her son the fucking right way?!?!? WELL HERE YOU GO. THIS MANS OUT HERE BEING AN ABSOLUTE SWEETHEART <3 ugh we love wholesome drabbles really <3 amazing workkkkk!!!!!

10. Leather and Lace by @queen-kass-the-writer​ | Steve Rogers x AFuckingKickAssFem!OC :) Steve Rogers hardly expects anything to come out of a sleepy night at his new favorite dive bar until a pristinely dressed little lady saunters into the bar with a delicate smile but a wicked uppercut. Biker!Steve x Helena Alright so this is a little different than the above fics because THIS IS AN OC FIC :D now if any of yall know me I don’t tend to read OC fics HOWEVER Kass is INCREDIBLE at churning out fics. I had gave her an idea of a Biker Steve fic and like BAM she made it :O (seriously i don’t know how that is... to have an idea... and actually produce it?!??!) It’s a hilarious story of Biker Steve being head over heels Helena which is adorable (and a character named after me being Bucky’s shithead date lol hilarious) YALL BETTER READ THIS SHIT BECAUSE IT’S 100% WONDERFUL

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Okay so I know that this list is FAR shorter than my last recommendations list. I suckkkkked at reading fics this month lol. I’m definitely going to try and read more in July so here’s to hoping! Love you all a ton :D

[georgemackayhey]

Rules For Falling In Love: #2

summary: In which George wants to get married. But… you’re not dating. Why should you say yes?

a/n: The love for this fic has really made my heart ache in all the best ways! I hope yall love this update and I look forward to all your feedback of any and all kinds, as always ♡

w/c: 2k

───※ ·❆· ※───

You had a week from hell, one where you seemed to live and breathe your work against your will. When you were free to do as you pleased, all you wanted was to do was absolutely nothing.

When you got home to find George seemed to have been waiting there all afternoon like a puppy, you rolled your eyes, entirely too exhausted to consider having fun. But before you had the chance to give that speech, George ushered you to the sofa.

"The last season, it's starting right now." He explained, turning the volume up on the telly that was already on. The show in question was one of those horrifically trashy ones. A silly little show you both got hooked on when you had the same cold, nowhere to go, and nothing else to watch. Now you needed to know what happened next.

The days weren't always like this. Between the years, you'd drifted apart from each other, floating back together for odd dinners and weekend getaways. It wasn't even like this when you started living together. But it seemed like in the blink of an eye you were spending more and more free time side by side, planning more than a few shared breakfasts and rainy afternoons.

Nights like these were expected by now, and you realized you'd be amiss if they ended anytime soon. George had called off dating some year or two ago, shaken by the Hollywood scene and the popularity contest he seemed to be in on, during films and even off set, in local shops he'd gotten recognized in. You'd forgotten that dating was a part of social life, far too preoccupied with your work and the plans you always had with George after hours to get to know anyone new.

It all made too much sense. So when the first commercial break kicked in and George passed the snacks he was holding over to you, as if he just remembered you were there, you spoke up.

"I'll do it."

You took the snacks, holding George’s eyes as his searched yours. You knew that he knew what you were agreeing too. Just when you thought he was about to speak, the show came back on and both of your focuses shifted entirely on the screen. You hadn't known what to expect... But the way everything seemed so vastly normal, sort of jarred you.

And for the next couple of days... neither of you talked about it at all. Sure you're busy with work and George had been fretting over a couple of important telephone interviews. But you thought surely he'd be more anxious to discuss logistics, or bring up the subject he invented, at all.

It wasn't until the next weekend, that the conversation picked up where it left off, again.

You'd spent the early Sunday morning roaming through the storefronts of an overpriced market. You ducked inside to relish the air-conditioned sales before dipping back out every few feet to admire the booths full of flowers, handcrafted gifts, and expensive decor. You'd buy absolutely everything here if you could.

You did have a mission. It was to pick up something to bring to dinner, a Sunday evening tradition with George's family. You'd been invited for as long as you could recall, and you'd never shown up empty-handed. Usually, flowers and desserts did just fine. But you were entirely too indecisive over what to purchase, this morning.

You'd become lost in a conversation with a woman who sold soaps and lotions, locally and expensively made. You rambled with her for so long that you'd lost sight of the person you'd come here with.

When you spun away from the lady selling soaps as new customers flocked closer to inspect her products, and you went on the hunt for George. You spotted him from behind, leaning in to speak with a vendor nearer inside. And just as you start to drift in his direction, he noticed you, too, through the crowd. And as the people part and you're nearly toe to toe, George doesn't greet you like usual.

There is no jab about where you'd been missing for so long, there isn't even a hello. Instead, you watch as George's smile grows mischievous, before bending at the knee.

Between his thumb and finger is a ring, just your unique style. It's from the booth he knelt in front of now, where hundreds of other delicate and novel jewels were displayed.

"What's all this then?" You laughed, standing in front of the guy you'd known longer than how to do simple maths.

"Marry me?" George asked, for the hundredth time, it seemed. You hadn't ever expected the question. But after this week, it came again at long last. You wondered if he'd ever bring it up again. But this time was different. This time, he smiled softly and held a real promise in his hand, looking up to you with a squint to block out the sun.

"I suppose I will." You grinned, answering quietly as George beamed up at you.

A couple of old ladies gasped from a couple of steps away, turning to watch on as George rose to his feet, grabbing your hand with both of his.

"Thank you, y/n. I cant wait." He said as if he'd been planning this for longer than he'd been pestering you about it.

"Why, we're practically already married." You laughed, mocking the statement he kept returning back to over the weeks. You watched as George slid the ring on your finger, with a pretty little design you couldn't have chosen better if you tried.

"Kiss her!" One of the elder spectators demanded like she was watching a wrestling match and coaxing on the fighters.

"I suppose I should," George remarked, mocking you, from moments ago. When he dipped down to place a teasing, chaste kiss on your lips,  the old ladies cheered. When you swatted his arm with a playfully furrowed brow, the old ladies grumbled, completely let down by the way you ruined the moment.

"Don't blow it, Mackay. Go pick one for yourself, now." You warned your friend who was already giving you a playful smirk as you pointed to the collection of rings he was meant to choose from.

He found the perfect band, with specks and flecks that matched your own. And he liked it, best of all. The two of you walked out of the shoppe with matching rings, in fits of laughter as you imagined all your friend's reactions.

To celebrate, you stopped at a stall selling frozen yogurt and ordered one big container; because it was extremely overpriced, and George didn't mind sharing, because according to him-

"We're official." George boasted, digging into the dessert as you walked back toward your neighborhood, enjoying the perfect morning weather.

"Not quite." You reasoned. "We've still gotta get the worst part over with."

"The worst part?"

"Throwing a faux wedding. Lying to our guests. Drawing far too much attention to ourselves. This feels so much more like a business interaction than an event. Not that I'm not glad to do business with you, of course." You laughed, stepping in time with your closest friend.

"We don't have to make it a whole big thing. I only asked to be married, not for a garish wedding. We could stick to signing a few papers and call it a day."

"Are you serious? I want you to be explicitly clear about what you want because whether we make it one or not, this is a big deal."

"I'm okay with it." George chuckled, forcing the frozen treat in your grasp for a turn. "Either way, we'll need some witnesses."

You grumbled, remembering he was right. You weren't ashamed to marry him. Only embarrassed at the slightest bit of misjudged attention, and worried that your decision would be mistaken for something it wasn't, by anyone you explained it too.

///

"I've forgotten to get something to bring! I've never not brought something to dinner." You panicked, feeling your pockets in a last-ditch effort to find something to keep the tradition alive. George let out a little chuckle as you stalled in his parent's driveway. You reprimanded him for not being just as panicked as you, but he just laughed harder as he reached for your hand.

"Well how about this time I bring you."

A new set of nerves danced on end when you remembered the ring on your finger. You'd walked into the entry of his parents lavish countryside home like clockwork, without a gift but with very big news. But even in the strange twist of events, the familiar setting and George's calming presence meant nothing was out of the ordinary. You were only making the decision to keep it that way. Surely everyone would understand.

As you waltzed further into the home, there was no grand greeting. His father was sat in the living room, focused on a game that flashed across the telly. He turned his smile to the pair of you just before shouting back at the team he was rooting for. George's mother was in the kitchen, and upon hearing the pair of you come in, started rambling about how dinner wasn't quite ready and how hectic her day was.

You and George stalled in the entry of the kitchen, sunbleached wallpaper and worn old furniture welcomed you. When George's mother turned from the stove with a huff and a hand on her hip, she glanced between you and her son and asked why you were both just standing there.

"Has something happened?" She asked in a grave low tone.

George glanced to you as if to ask you for permission to say something. Or maybe to warn you he was about to, anyway. You knew it was best to rip the bandaid off. So you gave the smallest nod and held your breath.

With a look across the way to his father clicking the telly off in perfect time, George made his announcement.

"We're getting married!"

Despite George's sound excitement and the glowing smile on his face, his mother let out a breath with a hand to her heart.

"Oh thank God, I thought someone had died." She explained, reaching back to turn a knob on the oven. Her relief was comical, and just as she spoke up, you realized all the excitement you'd expected, was stored away in the girl bounding down the stairs.

George's sister nearly tripped over herself as she squealed into the room. You might have wanted to plug your ears, but the girl bound your way, babbling incoherently, grabbing your hand to see the ring she expected to see there.

"I knew it. I can't believe this day has come but I knew it would." She gasped like she'd just become a billionaire, as if her very own dreams had just come true. George's father sauntered closer, glancing at your ring with a pleased hum, offering a simple and pleasant congratulations on his way to steal a bit of dessert before dinner.

"So now I can finally expect some grandchildren, yeah?" George's mother shuffled toward the cabinet full of wine, a place she only searched through when the very best and worst news hung heavy over your weekly dinner parties.

"I don't think that's possible." You choked out in a hurry, as George's sister dropped your hand, spinning to face her brother who was holding back wild laughter at your expense.

"You can always adopt, dear." His mother pushed, spinning back to the oven when it dinged. George was in the middle of explaining your plans to his sister, who was shaking her head in disapproval.

"No! No way will I stand by and watch you get married without throwing a party. Can't we talk about a big white wedding? Oh please." She turned to you with big pleading eyes.

"No, no no no. I can't do that. I'd pass out before saying I Do and what's the point of that? We're just gonna get it done." You pointed.

"I'll just see about that." She stormed deeper into the kitchen at the sound of her mother asking her for help finishing your traditional Sunday meal.

"I'll try and thwart her plans to decorate the register's office with rose petals." George brought his hands to your shoulders with a smile you shared, as he led you to the table. His parents argued over what bottle of wine to open, while his sister went on making plans of her own, just for you. Normalcy remained.

///

"You two cannot be serious." Dean sat slack-jawed across a high tabletop in your very favorite pub. He'd barely touched his scotch, but you and George were on your second round of drinks you'd been downing while waiting on your friend to show up to tell him the news.

"Who else would we ask, Dean? You're our third wheel." You laughed, leaning in to shout past the music overhead. You'd already told George's family and asked his sister to be one of your witnesses. The girl was more excited than you and George for your big day. Dean was the only other person you could imagine inviting along, whose presence wouldn't make you break out into a nervous sweat.

"No, I mean you can't be serious about getting married!" Dean laughed, keeping his wide, dark eyes boring into yours.

"We've already worked most everything out. Will you please come?" George leaned in closer, taking his turn at coaxing his best pal into being there for the two of you.

"Yeah, fine," Dean softened, his smile reaching his eyes. "But I'm bringing a cake. Not to celebrate, but to stress eat." The fellow raised his glass in a silly toast. You laughed as you clinked your glasses together, then swiftly ordered another round.

"Well I don't want to steal your thunder but I've been meaning to tell the both of you something..." Dean shifted in his seat as you and George settled into a quiet focus on your friend.

"I've been seeing someone. Only been out a couple of times, but I quite like her already" Dean explained, a blush creeping under his eyes. George encouraged his friend to tell everything about the girl he'd been dating. You urged Dean to bring her around some time, thrilled at the prospect of having a fourth wheel to join in your nights of fun.

As Dean went on telling the tale of his first date with his new girl, your drinks came.

"Won't you miss dating around?" Dean seemed to worry, after thanking the waiter for his drink.

"I haven't missed it this far." You shrugged, sipping your fresh cocktail all the while. As free as you'd been till now, the thought of getting to know someone new, letting your guard down, building trust, just thinking of it all exhausted you.

When George leaned over you to accept his new drink, he flashed the waiter a tipsy smile.

"We're getting married!" He chuckled, and you did too. As you two broke into drunken giggles, the waiter offered unimpressed congratulations. Dean slammed back his new order in time to ask for another; either to catch up with you and George or to deal with the pair of you, you couldn't tell.

───※ ·❆· ※───

taglist: @whenthe-smokeisinyoureyes @andux @imaginationandlove @velvetgoldsilver​ @queen-bunnyears @maria-josefin​ @dearevansamham​ @belledamsceno​ @nilletellsstories​ @haileymorelikestupid​ @loulouloueh​ @visionsofmelodrama

[jasperwhitcock]

05. FAMILY FEUD

surprise, bitches. bet you thought you’d seen the last of me. why do i update my fic always a month apart. sorry!! i’m always working on it, i just write really long chapters... anyways, here is chapter five of my bella as a vampire and edward as a human fanfic inspired by an au that @bellasredchevy​ posted. you can read the new chapter on AO3 or here. i post updates on AO3 or on tumblr using the #equinoxjw tag.

i've incorporated some quotes from midnight sun because obviously this is still something of a parallel to midnight sun & i wanted to stay true to some of the reactions. also, you may recognize a little blurb imbedded here that i've written before about the bookshelf hehe. hope yall enjoy ♡♡♡

The weight of the battle I was fighting within myself was beginning to surpass the previous toll it’d taken on me. Every moment since I met Edward, it seemed I was falling further down into an abyss that I couldn’t climb out of, and every time I felt like maybe I’d found my grip, I only fell further. Again, I was frustrated as I sat outside Edward’s house in Carlisle’s Mercedes, watching the hazy, obscure sun slip further away behind the blackened clouds, leaving me shrouded in the darkness of a midday storm and the cover of pouring rain. I felt partially guilty for not returning Carlisle’s car. He wouldn’t mind running home, but Esme might not be too pleased about the puddles his drenched clothing would leave on her newly installed flooring. Although after today, it might not matter anymore.

I wondered what I’d return home to. Would they have already finished packing up our belongings? Would they be waiting to confront me about the consequences of my actions? Carlisle was forgiving, but would the rest of my family be?

For those reasons, I wasn’t ready to return home yet. But mostly, I was hesitant to drive away because I knew the moment my tires left Edward’s street would be the moment I’d be leaving him behind in Forks. I felt unprepared for the finality of such a moment.

When I heard the soft purr of an engine turning onto the street around one in the afternoon, I sighed, shifting the car into drive and moving forward to the end of the road in case it was Edward’s father returning home. I watched in my rearview mirror as the silver vehicle confirmed my suspicions by pulling into Edward’s driveway. Although the darkness of the thunderstorm’s gloom brewing in the clouds did little to obscure my eyesight, the torrent of rain pounding down relentlessly onto the green earth was too thick for even my eyes to catch a good glimpse of his face.

I could stay and listen – hear the voice of his father and compare it to the quality of Edward’s low, soft timbre, see if Edward’s sincerity in sticking to my version of events was genuine, check if he was truly as alright as he insisted – but maybe I was only looking for reasons to avoid heading home. Or maybe I was just being unforgivably invasive.

I glanced at the digital clock. 1:05. If they had stayed in their classes after the accident, there was still another hour and forty minutes before my siblings would be released from school. If they went home early, then Carlisle still wouldn’t be home for another two hours and twenty five minutes. I decided I’d rather not be there without Carlisle, so I lifted my foot off the break, slammed on the gas, and headed for Port Angeles before I realized where I was going.

As I left Forks behind me, the rain softened to a more consoling pitter patter on the roof of the car, and the clouds, although still grey, were lighter, hinting at the hidden sun. I made it to Port Angeles in under half an hour, luckily finding the roads to be mostly empty.

I drove at an appropriate speed once I reached the city. It was surprisingly beautiful scenery for such a disastrous day. It had snowed the night before here as well, but the melted snow hadn’t refrozen into ice. Instead, the tops of the buildings were covered in a thin layer of fluffy white snowflakes. The clouds above were thick enough to conceal me from the sun but held no implications of oncoming rain.

I located a parking spot near my favorite old brick building and paid the meter for the next few hours. The air was even more wintry here than in Forks as the harbor air brought in fresh, freezing ocean spray. There was a bookstore I liked to go to here in Port Angeles. Even as a child, Forks didn’t have an adequate library or bookstore to satiate my needs. My previous grievances with the rainforest of a city aside, there was always the silver lining of the bookstore.

If there was one thing that I looked forward to when arriving in the otherwise detestable small town of Forks in the rainy state of Washington, it was returning to the familiar mahogany of the sturdy bookshelf in the tiny living room of Charlie’s small, two-story house. It had been a gift – a homecoming gesture – in hopes to put me in better spirits when I was forced to spend my summers with my father. He knew how I had disliked his gloomy town just as my mother had. A friend from the reservation, Billy Black’s, young, cheerful son built the bookshelf himself. Billy had dismissed Charlie’s offers to pay his son for the service, insisting he accept it as a present in return for all the nights Billy stole away to the Swan Residence (Swan, the last name I held as a human) to watch the game on Charlie’s much larger – though not by much – television screen. When he hadn’t been looking, Charlie slipped a small wad of cash to Billy’s kid who excitedly accepted it, eager to save for some other projects.

Over time, the book shelf became a home for some of my favorite classic novels. On his days off, when his friend Harry Clearwater was unavailable for a fishing trip, he’d picked up books of all kinds, hoping I would find at least one I liked in the overflowing collection. The bookshelf was stuffed with paperbacks and hardbacks, lining each ledge edge to edge with books piling horizontally on top of the other books as space began to run out. It was a gesture that moved me in ways I was unused to and ways I couldn’t find the words to express.

When I was in town, Charlie drove me to some of the larger cities surrounding his small town and waited patiently as I perused the shelves of second-hand book stores. Smart as he was, he wasn’t a very articulate man, struggling to convey the depth of his emotions through words. But something in his eyes betrayed the way his heart overflowed with pride and adoration watching his small, gangly daughter enter into a world of her own as she searched for her next favorite story to add to their beloved bookshelf. It was a look I caught that sometimes made me feel embarrassed and shy by the profundity of the love in it, but now a look that I’d always remember. A look that would always make my unbeating heart feel somehow full and empty at the same time. Intense feelings of love and sadness for what I’d once had and since lost. This bookstore was our favorite, and therefore, it would always be my favorite. It still held the aged charm of the past, but they made some modern improvements in desperation for relevance today. I’d made sure to keep the store open with anonymous donations. Too many independent bookstores suffered in such a competitive, unfair market full of large online distributors.

I listened to the familiar hum of the glowing red neon sign in the window as I reached for the door. A bell above let out a peal of rings as I entered, and the clerk behind the wooden counter looked up beneath her large glasses. Her skin was deeply tan with olive undertones and her dark hair was cropped in a perfect line above her shoulders. Her eyes registered shock upon seeing my face, her heart rate picked up, and she stuttered over her words. “W-welcome!”

“Thank you,” I smiled softly, though finding the politeness to be difficult today. I didn’t want to come across rude or threatening, but feigning anything resembling joy was especially exhausting. I kept my voice gentle and even so as not to alarm the woman.

“Let me know if you need any help!” She called after me as I passed the counter, heading deeper into the store.

The shop was unpopulated at this time of day. Only a few people loitered here and there examining the shelves or curled up on loveseats with hot coffee cups to recover from the chill of the outdoors.

I crossed over the entirety of the first floor, finding the concealed narrow staircase that led to the upstairs. Tasting the air, I could tell there was nobody immediately near me, so I flew up the staircase at a more reasonable speed though I was in no hurry. The second floor was a brown labyrinth, the bookshelves placed in a way to create an intimate maze with countless little crevices to slip into and hide away from the rest of the world. Hardbacks and paperbacks piled the shelves and walls from the floor to the ceiling. The air was filled with the scents of crispy paper, aged ink, and the sweet, musky smell of older books. The lighting was warm reddish-orange, dull, and not ideal for reading despite the setting, but a miscellaneous mélange of lamps in all shapes and sizes embellished the spaces tucked between the bookcases, generating enough brightness to read in tiny, personal pools of light.

I weaved a path through the maze until I reached a dead-end corner with a single, wine-colored armchair in a faded leather. An ornate wooden plaque spray painted gold with eroded edges was drilled into the shelf behind the chair, the words “For Charlie” engraved into the pallet. Well, my donations were mostly anonymous.

No matter how many times I rounded this corner, every time my eyes fell on the empty chair hit me like a wrecking ball with nearly unmanageable grief. Any attempt to decipher the thoughts that came with this always led me to simplistic statements because that was all that I could ever handle. It was too much emptiness, too much numbness, too much complexity. It was always simply too much. And that was about all the conclusions I could come to no matter how much gentleness and coaxing Esme, Rosalie, Alice, Jasper, Emmett, and Carlisle comforted me with. It was always easier to push away the thought, to avoid thinking too much than to acknowledge the hole in my chest. Some days I almost forget, and some days it becomes seemingly ever present. It was always easier to ignore the gravity of the grief.

But in this life with the absoluteness of what we are, all we can do is to go on. One next step at a time. As much as I felt so much stronger and accustomed to this life, there was no denying the simple truth – there is so much loss in immortality.

I sighed. Even with all of our physical resilience, the extremities of our emotions in this form was enough to be tiring. I took steps forward and turned to sink into the chair, feeling very small. Looking out at the warmth of the bookcases and the endless array of novels, I thought of what it would be like to be Charlie sitting here, watching his awkward daughter run her finger along all the spines or disappear into the maze only to be found on the floor somewhere surrounded by piles of books.

Sometimes being here I could feel the ghost of Charlie’s love. The intensity that he couldn’t quite always communicate and that I didn’t always understand the extent of. But here, I could feel it. And I felt the same love for him in return. I missed him. His thick mustache, the sudden youthfulness in his warm, brown eyes when he smiled, the endearing crinkles that reminded me of his age. The coffee rings on the table, and the snow chains on my tires. The flush of red under his translucent skin when he was angry or embarrassed. Just like how my skin had been. Like father, like daughter.

I wondered what he’d think of my life now, and what he’d think of what I’d done today. Knowing the circumstances of the secrets I was meant to keep, would he have thought I’d done the right thing as Carlisle had? Or would he have thought I interfered and placed my siblings at risk like the rest of my family might think? I think that despite the consequences, he would have said something like, “you did the right thing, kid.” And maybe he’d even uncomfortably ask me about whether or not this boy was someone he should be keeping his eye on and would be immensely relieved when I reassured him that the answer was no. The thought almost made me smile. So then, I couldn’t bring myself to regret my decisions, and I wouldn’t allow myself to.

I sat there in the weathered leather of the chair for some time, listening to the subtle dragging of pages sliding off of shelves, the whoosh of air and the crispy rustle of paper as someone turned a page, the heaviness of footsteps on dead pieces of floorboard, the twinkle of the bell above the front door, and the whisper of the frozen wind rushing inside. After an hour, I stirred, rising from Charlie’s chair to trace my finger along the edges of the shelves, the action stirring up some dust particles to leap into the air like dandelion seeds, the warm light catching them in astonishing ways as they floated along. I left my little nook briefly to find the right section that would hold the book I was suddenly searching for.

When I located it, I plucked the gently used novel off the shelf, vowing to officially mend my own copy at home since it was the same story that Emmett had destroyed the morning of the first day I saw Edward.

I returned to the armchair, once again sinking down into the burgundy, and flipped through the aged pages until I found the place I left off at.

I’d have read until closing time, but eventually something in the unreliability of initial appearances in Pride and Prejudice began to bother me in a way that it never had before. I gave up on the book and instead sat unthinking – or attempting to, at least– quietly for a few hours.

Again, I longed to sleep. I’d never needed an escape as much as I did now as my mind was becoming too tiring a place to consciously be.

After some time, I heard creaky footsteps on the ancient wood up the stairs and the jingling sound of keys hitting each other. I waited patiently as they approached, imagining where exactly they may be in the labyrinth as they turned corners and hesitated to quietly shove stray books back onto shelves. They drew closer, closing in the distance between them and my little nook, finally rounding the corner.

“Oh!” The clerk from downstairs gasped in surprise, dropping the book in her hand. I stopped myself from saving it to not startle her any further with sudden movements, allowing it to clatter noisily to the floor.

“I’m sorry,” I murmured, only then rising from the chair to lean down and collect the novel after an appropriate amount of reaction time. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

The clerk’s heart boomed loudly in her chest. “No, no, it’s alright!” She laughed breathlessly, a hand fluttering to her heart. “I just didn’t think anyone else was here... We’re, uh, sorry, we’re closed!”

“Oh, I’m sorry again,” I laughed softly as well to relax her, extending my hand to offer her the book she’d dropped. “I must have lost track of time.”

“That’s okay! It happens more often than you think...” she laughed again, her heart rate slowing down to a more regular place, though now that she recovered from the shock, her face was mesmerized by the oddness of my jarringly perfect appearance.

“I’ll leave now,” I smiled politely, pushing the book forward to her hand, careful not to touch her skin. Without processing, she took hold of the book. As I began to pass her, she clumsily turned.

“Oh, uh, wait! I’ll unlock the door to let you out!”

I allowed her to pass me up and leisurely followed her through the maze down the stairs. Her blood had a sweet smell, but it was still unappealing in comparison to Edward’s.

Once we’d reached the door, I could see how much time had passed whilst I hadn’t been paying attention. Through the large windows, night had fallen in a blackened cloak over the port city.

“Here we are,” she shyly chirped in a very intentionally favorable tone – something she probably reserved for customer service – and fiddled with the keys. Her hands shook slightly, and I felt guilty for how it must feel to have her back turned to a predator. Of course, she couldn’t know the difference, but her body recognized the threat. Finally, once she’d found the right key, she jimmied the rusty metal into the lock – missing the narrow fissure twice at first – and opened the door.

“Sorry about that. Thank you so much for coming,” she turned, gesturing with a shaky hand towards the outside world. The bitter wind blew in through the opening, making her shiver.

“Thank you,” I smiled again for her sake. Her eyes were peculiarly light compared to the rest of her features, making them extremely prominent. They were lighter and more hazel, yet the shade of green made me think of Edward again. I sighed. “Have a good night.”

I stepped out into the darkened street, looking down at the strange way the red light from the neon sign in the window washed over and illuminated my skin. Tiny bugs flew around the street lamps up above, casting irregularly moving shadows on the frozen sidewalk.

The heavy door shut loudly behind me, and she clicked the lock. It was unusually quiet, though that could be due to it being a weeknight. The bulbs in the streetlamps hummed and the bugs buzzed in response.

I strolled along the sidewalk, taking my time before returning to Carlisle’s car. I should have paid the meter more generously. It expired two hours ago. I’d received a parking ticket. Oops.

I removed the frozen slip of paper and unlocked the car, sliding into the driver’s seat. I had no desire to drive fast at first, deciding to return home at the speed limit. After about forty minutes, suddenly the anticipation to get the confrontation out of the way overcame me, and I drove 200 miles per hour the rest of the way home. Within minutes, I was turning onto the miles-long driveway.

As I raced for the garage, I listened for any movement from the bright house. There was none. I wondered how long they’d been sitting still, waiting for me. I groaned aloud in greeting.

The garage door was open so I pulled into the blue fluorescence and parked beside Rosalie’s day car. I sighed once before determinedly exiting the vehicle.

I slammed the door a little too hard before catching the handle before it hit the body. Perhaps I’d reached my quota this morning when it came to destroying car doors.

I ran through the small section of woods separating the garage from the house and braced myself for the impact of the meeting.

“Hello,” I said sheepishly. I wanted to sound stronger and more confident, but my nerve wavered as I entered the dining room to see everyone waiting for me at the long oval table. At the eastern head of the table, Carlisle and Esme sat side by side, their hands resting together atop the mahogany. I felt some of the resilience I’d mustered in the last few seconds return upon seeing the intensity of Esme’s golden eyes. They were full of concern and overwhelmingly forgiving. It was reassuring.

Rosalie sat directly opposite from Carlisle, very intentionally avoiding eye contact with me, her arms crossed firmly across her chest. I could feel the tension and coldness emanating from her. I was unused to feeling spurned by Rosalie. She always tenderly cared for me, always taking my side… My actions must have truly offended her today. A twinge of guilt twisted my abdomen.

It was unfair to feel any sense of betrayal considering the danger I’d placed my family in, but still with Emmett wrly seated beside Rosalie, and Jasper standing behind them, leaning against the wall mirroring Rose’s crossed arms, I felt some irrational anger at the lines being drawn. Of course, I should have known better than to think Emmett would have my back as if he wouldn’t undoubtedly support Rosalie.

Alice sat beside Esme, her eyes focused on something other than the room. I wondered if her visions made her support waver, if in all the hours I’d been gone, she’d been moving back and forth on either side of the room. She always chose the winning side.

“I’m sorry,” I breathed. “First, for this,” I crossed to the other side of the table to sit beside Carlisle, placing the parking ticket on the wood and sliding it over towards him. His lips curved into an amused smirk, and I felt encouraged by the expression.

“And more importantly,” I turned to face Rosalie, Emmett, and Jasper. “I’m very, very sorry for this morning. It was incredibly selfish, irresponsible, and stupid of me to put any of you at risk. It’s all my fault… I take full responsibility for my actions.”

Rosalie’s exquisite face finally looked up at me, her expression full of hurt. “And what does that mean, Bella? Are you planning on fixing this?”

The implication behind her words filled me with sudden indignation, and before I could calm myself down, I snapped, “not in the way that you mean.”

Of course, something had to be done about the accident, but what was the point of going to such idiotic lengths to save his life only to end it later? Didn’t she realize I’ve been fighting to keep him alive since the very moment I’d met him?

Rosalie took offense to the harsh accusation of my words. “You say that as if I’d advocate for this under normal circumstances.”

“I had planned on leaving before, and I will leave now if it makes things easier.” Rather than keeping my voice calm and even, the words again came out in ways I didn’t intend. Unnecessarily punitive. I knew it was ridiculous to be so angry with Rosalie’s anger towards me when she was entirely right, but I couldn’t tame my passion in defense of Edward’s silly little life.

“Oh, no, Bella,” Esme murmured. “Please, you can’t leave.”

I reached to squeeze my mother’s hand.

“It’d have been helpful prior to this morning,” Jasper spoke up. “Now, it’s irrelevant.”

“Jazz is right,” Emmett agreed. “There’s no point in leaving now. If anything, that’d look more suspicious.”

“I agree with Emmett, Bella,” Carlisle nodded. “For you to disappear, perhaps it’d make the boy more inclined to talk. Either all of us leave or none.”

“Edward won’t say anything,” I insisted.

“You can’t know that,” Rosalie argued.

“I trust him,” I disagreed, surprising myself at how true the statement was. I thought back to the biology lab when he’d jokingly asked if I trusted him. It was in response to his identification of the stages of mitosis, and I had said no. Now, I suddenly entrusted him with the secrecy of my vampire abilities. I was really unintelligent. She scoffed at my words. “Alice, back me up.”

“I can’t see what will happen if we just ignore this,” Alice rubbed her temples before shooting an accusatory glance in Jasper and Rosalie’s direction.

“We can’t ignore this. Bella, I have always supported you, and of course I love you dearly. But clearly, this isn’t some minor mistake. You were right – it was incredibly selfish and irresponsible and stupid! And it’d be even more irresponsible and stupid for us to allow the human the chance to say anything about it. Carlisle, you must see that,” Rosalie turned her attention to our adopted father.

“It’s not like we haven’t left rumors behind before,” I reminded her. “And I don’t recall anyone else’s first offense putting them on trial like this.”

She ignored the second part of my statement. “Rumors, Bella. Today, you’ve provided eyewitnesses and evidence! It’s not enough that you were perfect prior to today. You’re no more a saint than the rest of us! We have to be perfect always! This was a massive mistake!” Rosalie stood up from her chair. “And I know that!” I stood up as well.

“Then you should agree with what’s the right course of action! It doesn’t have to be a big production. So he seemed alright after the accident. Every mortal goes to sleep with the chance of never waking up. Say Carlisle missed something far more serious than it looked. I don’t delight in this, Bella, but the rest of our kind would expect us to take care of this. Technically, you should be the one to clean up after yourself.”

“Rosalie, the Masen boy is completely innocent,” Carlisle gently disapproved.

Rosalie frowned. “It’s an unfortunate consequence to Bella’s mistake in favor of protecting us all, but a consequence nonetheless”

“Rose, I am sorry-”

“Sorry doesn’t matter anymore, Bella!” She interrupted.

“I never wanted this. I never wanted to place you or Emmett or any of us in this position. I know my actions have affected you. But I couldn’t just let him die that way!” My chest sunk at the thought.

“But it wasn’t your place to meddle with fate. You’ve already interrupted his life with your existence alone. Why let him survive? So that you could slaughter him later?”

I winced at her words, but a low hiss escaped my throat as well.

“Rose...” Emmett reached up for her hand to placate her, but she pulled away.

“No, it’s the truth. Our existence and your fixation on his scent posed a threat to the boy. His time came, but you interfered. Now he poses a greater threat to us. So what was the point of that then? You couldn’t help yourself from cutting into his life? It seems the universe provided you with an easy way out, and you went out of your way to make things not only more difficult for yourself but for us as well. I don’t always love this life, but excuse me for taking it personally when you’ve threatened the tiniest piece of happiness I have here! You should have just let him die! It seems you’ll end up killing him anyways!”

The room shifted completely. Suddenly, everyone was on their feet, Rosalie leaned towards me in defense, Emmett uncomfortably but faithfully crouched by her side, Jasper’s stance was more confident and relaxed but poised to strike as well. Carlisle and Esme were both by my sides, holding me in place by my arms. Only Alice remained in her seat, not at all concerned by the change in atmosphere. It took me half a second to realize what had triggered everyone’s response – to process the vicious growl that erupted from my throat and the tenseness of my body as it coiled to spring at my own sister. I was too stubborn and furious to feel any shame yet. I scowled but eased my stance, allowing Carlisle and Esme to gently coax me back to my chair. Everyone else loosened their defensive posture. Emmett made Rosalie sit down, her golden eyes narrowed in a harsh glare of which I was the recipient. Jasper stood straight again but remained stiff. Once we’d all relaxed, Carlisle began speaking again.

“Rosalie, I know you mean well, but every life is precious. To murder a blameless child poses an even greater risk to us. The occasional accident or lapse in control is a regrettable part of who we are, but to bring harm to the boy would make ourselves unworthy of the protection you so lovingly wish to give us. If we make exceptions to protect ourselves, we risk something much more important. We risk losing the essence of who we are.”

I couldn’t help the tiny smile that pulled at the corner of my lips.

“Carlisle, it’s about being responsible when Bella was so horribly irresponsible.”

Being on the receiving end of Rosalie’s inflexibility and anger was not at all pleasant.

"It's being callous," Carlisle corrected softly before repeating himself. “Every human life is precious.”

Rosalie sighed heavily and turned her head to again avoid looking at me, making it very apparent where the two of us stood.

“The question is whether or not we should move on,” he continued.

“The last thing I want is to unroot any of you. I don’t think that’ll be necessary, Carlisle. I feel confident about Edward’s silence,” I insisted again.

Rosalie huffed loudly, and I turned just in time to catch her rolling her eyes.

“Well, we certainly don't have to decide now. Perhaps we wait then,” Carlisle nodded.

I turned to face Alice, searching for some reassurance about the future but instead following her accusatory gaze to where Jasper stood leaning against the wall again. They were having another one of those silent conversations they shared that the rest of us were lost to. It was almost as if they could read each other’s minds.

“What?” I asked.

“Jazz seems to feel he’s above this conversation,” Alice gritted her teeth. “He seems to think he should set things right.”

My eyes flashed between her and Jasper, whose face was expressionless and unmoved. It took me a moment to piece it together.

“Jazz,” I warned as I began to feel irrationally overprotective again. “I won’t let you punish him for my mistake.”

“So he benefits from it then?” He raised his eyebrows.

“I won’t allow it,” I repeated.

“And I won’t allow Alice to live in danger. You can’t understand, Bella. You don’t feel about anyone the way I feel towards her.”

“That’s irrelevant. I’m not just going to stand aside as you murder him,” I hissed. “I will not let you hurt Edward Masen.”

We stared at each other. I knew he was measuring the opposition and sampling the depth of my determination.

“Jazz,” Alice interrupted us, cutting through the tension in the air.

“Don’t bother telling me you can protect yourself, Alice. I already know that, but-”

“That’s not what I was going to say, but thank you for the assumption,” she rolled her eyes. “And it’s true, I can. I don’t need the backup, you overprotective fool.”

She said the last words playfully, her voice full of affection, as she stuck her tongue out. The action was out of sync with the mood of the room. “What I was going to ask for was a favor.”

Jasper’s eyebrows raised at what was seemingly an inappropriate time to make any requests. My eyebrows knitted in confusion at where the conversation was heading.

“I know you love me, but I would really appreciate it if you didn’t try to kill Edward. First, we all know how headstrong Bella is, so you shouldn’t doubt how serious she’s being right now. I don’t want the two of you to fight. Seriously. Secondly, Edward is my friend. Yours too. At least, he’s going to be.”

“What?” Jasper gasped. Even though we were all very much accustomed to Alice’s ambiguity and the bizarre certainty she spoke with about things only she had seen, this was not a statement that could so easily be digested. I couldn’t tear my attention from Alice, staring intently at her face as if the meaning behind her words would suddenly be written on her forehead. What had she seen in that little odd head of hers?

“I’m going to love him–” as she said this, I nearly choked on the air whistling down my throat “–someday, Jazz. I’d be very put out with you if you don’t leave him be.”

I was locked into place, my eyes still boring deeply into my sister’s face. I could feel the pucker on my forehead etched into my expression as I tried to make sense of what she was saying. I kept expecting Alice to explain, but every time she opened her mouth she only confounded me more.

“Ahh!” Alice sighed, smiling brightly. “See, there’s nothing to worry about! Edward won’t say anything at all.”

I could not see.

“Alice,” I whined impatiently. “What are you saying?”

“I don’t know, Bella. I told you something was changing in your future.”

“In my future? What did you see?”

“Hmm… I don’t think I should share quite yet,” Alice locked her jaw, and I growled, exasperated.

“Oh, clearly, Bella can’t be trusted lately to not act on her impulses! You should give her whatever warning you’re hiding,” Rosalie sighed, annoyed.

I was still feeling illogically irritated with Rose’s resentment, but I couldn’t disagree with her. “She’s right, Alice.”

“I really don’t think-”

“Who votes that Alice shares what she knows?” I asked restlessly. “Raise your hand.”

It was juvenile, and this was not how we came to decisions ever. Of course we’d discuss differing opinions, but never so bluntly did we vote in this manner. The way I approached the subject was rude, but still unanimously, six hands shot into the air including mine.

“Fine,” Alice huffed, scowling. “But I’m not obligated to share anything just because the rest of you voted. That’s silly. I’m only sharing because I can see that Bella won’t let this go.”

She paused and we waited, staring. It was as if we were awaiting the results of a reading from some fortune teller at a carnival, anxious to see which tarot cards she had pulled. Anxious to see what this would mean for my life.

“My vision keeps becoming clearer. At first, it was just hazy, and I couldn’t make sense of it or of who I was seeing. Every minute it’s like Bella’s more decided,” Alice began. Six pairs of eyes flickered to me, but I had no idea what she was referring to, nor did I know how this related to the boy. Alice frowned a little as if she knew what she was about to say wouldn’t be received well. “It seems there’s only two ways left for Edward now. Either Bella will… end his life or… he’ll join us.”

Esme gasped as my mouth dropped open.

“Join us?!” I choked out once I recovered. “I…. I have not made a decision anywhere in that realm at all. That has never ever crossed my mind. Why in the world would I turn him?”

“Maybe you don’t. Maybe I do it because I love him too or at least, I will. I don’t know.”

“Love him, too?” I gaped, convinced Alice’s abilities were broken somehow. “What does that even mean? Who else are you talking about?”

“Who do you think, Bella?” Alice rolled her eyes again, impatient at my lack of clairvoyance. “Clearly not Rosalie.”

“Love him!?” Rosalie questioned incredulously, eyeing me as if I’d completely lost my mind. Maybe I had.

I then realized what Alice meant as I watched Rosalie’s face and processed the other baffled pairs of eyes.

“You mean me!?” I gasped.

“Woah! What the hell...” Emmett almost laughed in surprise, then decided it was indeed actually funny and broke out into real, booming laughter. “Damn! That’s rough. Of course, Bella would fall for a human!”

“Fall for a human?” Esme asked, completely astonished. “Fall in love? With the boy she saved today?”

“Nobody is in love with anybody,” I stood up. “That’s completely absurd!”

“Ooh, touchy subject,” Emmett snickered. I glared daggers at him.

“What exactly do you see, Alice?” Jasper asked.

“I already told you. It depends on Bella’s strength. Either she’ll kill him herself which would really destroy you, Bella, not to mention how very irritated I’d be with you–” she gave me a stern look through narrowed eyes as if I’d already committed the murder then returned her attention to the rest of our family “–or he’ll be one of us someday. There’s not much else to say; the visions are finite but not detailed. It will require a great deal of self control…”

As she continued to muse, I was still frozen in place on my feet, completely numb and completely bewildered.

“...Greater than even Carlisle’s capability maybe. I wouldn’t have put it past her prior to this, but now… It’ll be extremely close as to whether or not she kills him. The only thing she’s not strong enough to do is stay away from him. That’s a completely lost cause.”

The room was entirely quiet.

“Well, this complicates things greatly,” Carlisle murmured.

After another moment of silence, Rosalie piped up. “I can’t believe it. In love with a human-”

“Oh, you’re one to talk, Rosalie!” I snarled, returning to some clarity.

“Girls, please-” Esme began to plead.

“Ooh, she got you there, babe,” Emmett interrupted, chuckling as Rose growled at him.

“Emmett,” Esme warned sternly. He held up his hands in surrender but winked at me, grinning widely.

I couldn’t even appreciate the realliance. I was still too lost in the sudden upheaval of my entire life.

“I suppose the plans remain the same, though," Carlisle said thoughtfully. "We'll stay and watch. Obviously, no one will...hurt the boy.”

“Of course not,” Jasper agreed, nodding his head once. “If Alice only sees two ways, then it’s unnecessary to take matters into-”

“Shut up, Jazz,” I said numbly.

Everyone’s eyes flickered over to me.

I was just loving being the center of attention these days.

If Alice only sees two ways...

“You’re wrong,” I whispered. For the first time in my life, I was betting against Alice.

My psychic sister opened her mouth to protest but stopped after seeing either in her head or on my face that I wasn’t finished.

“I hardly know Edward. I don’t see how it could be possible for me to… develop any kind of… feelings for him. That’s entirely ridiculous. I mean, he’s… human! The only scenario that could potentially ever happen – which again, it’s absolutely implausible – would be if I were to accidentally change him. And even then, I mean, why would I-... He’s so… Ugh, just nevermind! That would be a complete mistake. A mistake greater than the one I made today. And I’m very sorry to you all for how I’ve mutilated the future with my actions, but I’m going to fix it. I’ll leave-”

“You can’t,” Alice and Esme interrupted at the same time. My sister’s tone was one of annoyance while my mother’s was one of concern.

“You’re right,” I nodded, but my agreement wasn’t for the reasons Alice meant. I wasn’t considering my capability to leave based on my own will power against leaving the boy behind. That was something too complicated to unpack here in front of my family. Something that’d be better dealt with on the floor with my arms wrapped around my knees. I wouldn’t leave because it’d be more crucial for me to stay now. The responsible thing to do. “But I’ll try to...I will stay away from Edward–” suddenly, I felt a desire to begin to distance myself from him and referring to him by his name felt too deeply personal, so I corrected myself, “–from the boy, I mean. It’s not right to condemn him to either fate. I won’t allow that to happen.”

As I spoke, Rosalie’s face softened and she materialized by my side, taking my hand.

“I’m sorry for how I’ve behaved today, Bella. I only spoke out of love for our family. But you’re right. It’s not right. And I’m glad you’re choosing to do the right thing by staying away. I still don’t feel as though trusting him is responsible, but if what Alice has said is true-”

“I’m sorry, too,” I cut her off quietly, not wanting to hear the rest. I was feeling sorry for so much more than just how I spoke to Rose.

Esme appeared behind me as well, placing her hand encouragingly on my shoulder. “We are here to support you, Bella.”

“Thanks,” I murmured unenthusiastically.

Nobody moved again as they waited to see what I’d do next. I felt like a zoo animal.

I sighed, releasing Rose’s hand and shaking off Esme.

“If you don’t mind, I think I’d like to be by myself.”

“Of course,” Carlisle responded.

I crossed behind the west side of the table. Emmett let out a low, cartoony whistle of relief to break the tension, and I punched him on the arm as I passed. As I exited the room, Alice called, “wait!”

She was by my side in an instant.

“This is from the accident. It’s Edward’s. I thought maybe you’d want to return it to him.”

I looked down as she pulled my unresponsive hand away from my body to place the thick, chestnut journal I’d seen Edward reach for in his backseat right before the accident. I stared at her, impassive, so she sighed and wrapped my fingers around the worn leather to force it into my grip.

“Thanks,” I mumbled, turning and disappearing out of the house into the forest.

As I ran, I felt the weight of their eyes on me.

[harringtonstudios]

vegas run (III).

plot: it’s the annual las vegas run. let’s see what kinda trouble you get into this year!

A/N: i have finals coming up, but i will update as soon as i can! hope yall are enjoying this as much as i am :’)

masterlist!   (part I).  (part II). 

Checking into the hotel rooms was easier than it had ever been. Slim and Dub had landed an hour earlier, and already gotten the two rooms settled, knowing that most of the night wasn’t spent in them anyway. All you guys did when you got back to the hotels was knock out on the closest bed and then wake up the next morning to do it all over again. 

You threw your duffel bag in the corner of one of the rooms before booking it to the bathroom so you could pee before the festivities started. The plan was simple for today: hit up the first casino you saw, play until the wheels got a little blurry, and then take a break in the fresh air before moving onto the next. 

The bright lights and constant flow of people in Vegas made the nights blend into one, and the only way you would know the actual time was if by some chance your phone hadn’t died yet. The Vegas Run was a gamble on itself and you found yourself ready to waste the week away with poker chips and margaritas. 

Patting your face with some cold water, you took a look in the mirror. You looked good, hair loosely falling around your shoulders. The jean jacket you were wearing paired nicely with your black top and the ripped denim adorning your thighs. 

Leaving the bathroom, you tied up the laces on your Converse before grabbing your mini-backpack from inside your duffel bag. It was extremely small, containing only your wallet and a phone charger. You’d somehow managed to wedge a water bottle in there, and you picked up a pair of fruit snacks that somehow had been dumped on the little desk in the hotel room before zipping it up completely. 

“Good to go?” you asked, eyes moving around the room. 

Slim was collapsed on one of the beds, legs hanging off the edge. He shot you a thumbs-up from under the baseball cap that covered his face as you laughed. Kells was sitting on the floor in between both beds and he got up at your question, moving towards the door. 

“Alright,” you mumbled under your breath, smacking Slim’s leg to get him up as you followed out the door. 

-

The switch to Vegas mode was automatic. Colson propped his hoodie up, hands rifling through his pockets as he pulled out his ID to get into the first casino you all spotted. 

The rest of the boys followed suit, walk eased as they sauntered past the bouncers into the light up floors filled with the sounds of shuffling machines. 

Baze had a tight grip on his girlfriend Ellie’s hand, pulling her along in as you closed up the back of the room, pulling out your own ID as the bouncer waved you past.

The room was loud, sounds filling the air around you as you followed the pack to the bar. Everyone grabbed a drink, and then scattered to the different games being held in the casino. You waited a second back, letting the drink settle in your mouth. Bringing your tongue to your teeth, you looked around trying to figure out which machine you wanted to try your luck with. Playing one of the bigger games wasn’t in your forte, you had a terrible poker face, and a lot of the people that lingered around the tables were naturals, ready to make any money they could. 

Your eyes landed on the slot machines, empty in the corner. You had to convert your actual money to gold coins first, to ply into the machines, and you sighed realizing you were going to lose a lot more money tonight than you wanted to. Feeding the conversion machine a ten dollar bill, you grabbed one of the plastic cups sitting at the top of the machine, filling it with the gold coins that came pouring out. 

-

Half an hour later, you were down to your last three coins. You’d gotten exactly one turn to land exactly on the same three pictures, gaining a net value of five dollars. Not that it made up for the fact that you’d been hiding out in this corner, jamming in coins and sipping on an empty drink. You’d been drinking the melted ice cubes at this point, the lemon wedge you’d been given with it sucked and sitting at the bottom of the cup. 

You rationalized that you didn’t know what exactly you were hiding from, but your mind knew better. Colson had walked by exactly once, two girls plastered at his side. His arm wrapped around their waists, and you had immediately bit your tongue, leaving your mouth open as you had gone to tell him about your little win. It shouldn’t bother you. It didn’t bother you. 

You went for another spin on the machine, pushing away all the thoughts as the screen started spinning. You needed another drink soon, and honestly it wouldn’t hurt to explore the casino a little. There were enough people in here that you would be easily able to find someone from the squad, and they wouldn’t leave without gathering everybody together anyways. 

-

One more drink turned into three and then you were following a blonde into a corner, arm loosely wrapped around his, ice clinking in your glass. The bitter taste of lemon lingered  in your mouth, and you thought you heard someone calling your name, but brushed it off, eager to do a little kissing tonight. 

You didn’t really know who the blonde was, just that he had bought you the two other drinks and played with your fingers as you tapped them against the counter. There was the little part of you that knew why you chose to spend time with him, he’s got the same blue in his eyes, a tattoo peeking out from his shirt. 

Another echo of your name went around the room, louder this time, and you looked up trying to find the culprit, eyes landing on none other than one Machine Gun Kelly. His arm was wrapped around a girl, but the other waved up at you, calling you over. 

“Y/N! Over here,” he shouted again, and you shook your head a little, pausing your walk. 

The blonde tugged at you, “He know you or something?”

“Yeah something,” you started as Colson bellowed out your name again. Rolling your eyes, you dropped the guy’s arm, muttering out a “sorry” as you walked towards the game table. 

“You’re here! Watch me win,” Colson exclaimed, empty hand moving across the table to pick up the red dice. The girl at his side squealed as he started shaking, watching the board as you moved closer to the game master. Locking eyes with you, he grinned and threw you a wink before dropping the dice down. 

“SEVEN!,” the woman standing next to you shouted, arms in the air and suddenly everyone around the table started yelling. The man sitting on your left grumbled, tossing in what seemed like a big stack of cash as you watched Colson jump off the stool, taking the rest of his drink down like a shot in victory. 

You were pretty confused, but clapped nonetheless as the game master wiped the board, chips all gathered on one side again. There was another commotion, and then Kells was leaning across the table, arm stretching out towards you.

“Let’s go, next game,” he mumbled over the noise, and you let him pull you forward until you were flush with the wooden board, awkwardly feeling it dig into your front. 

“Coming,” you muttered back, pulling your arm from his grip and apologizing to the game master who threw a dirty glare in your direction. 

-

Two big poker games later, you were trailing behind Colson as he celebrated his victory for the third time that night. He had started stuffing the money he was making into your backpack, eagerly shoving it in as the prices of his win kept going up. 

Every game, he would ask you to stand across from him, eyes meeting yours any time the dice ended up in his fists. It was fun, watching the energy build up as he worked towards another win, but it had gotten repetitive. 

You weren’t even playing, just standing opposite him, often leaning on the table, or letting your eyes wander around trying to find the blonde you’d let go of earlier. 

“You’re my good luck charm I swear,” came his voice rumbling as you stumbled behind him approaching the bar. 

“I thought we were gonna play another game?” you asked as you moved back to your spot on the bar, leaning against the slightly sticky countertop, ignoring the way your chest tightened when he said those words.

Colson put his head down. 

“Yeah, yeah. Need to get my head on straight or I’m gonna lose everything you’ve gotten me,” he mumbled out, fingers signaling the bartender back. 

You waited for him to get his drink, catching the way his movements seemed a little slower than usual. There was no way of you actually knowing how much he had to drink already, but you knew from previous years that the minute he slowed down, he’d hit a limit. 

“Do you- uh have a joint?” you asked, hoping that he’d say yes so you two could go get a breather outside. 

“Do I have a joint? Who do you think I am Y/N,” he mocked back, one hand already going into his jacket. 

“Can’t smoke in here,” you pointed out the obvious, your hand rushing to cover his, “outside?”

“Mhm,” he said, nodding before downing his drink. 

You took your own vodka sprite, leading him out. You could feel his arm find its place around your shoulder and you relished in the comfort it gave you, warm and grounding as the lights around you started to spin. A few of the guys were lingering around and you smiled, seeing Ellie shout on as Baze spun one of the wheels. 

-

Moving into the cool air, you sidestepped the bouncer pulling Colson alongside you. Purple fluorescent lights bounced off of the surfaces, illuminating the sidewalk beneath your feet. People were bustling around, cars honking as a group stood in the middle of the street, flash going off as they took a picture. 

“Fuck we should’ve stayed inside,” Colson mumbled into your ear, bending down so you could hear him over the noise. 

Just then, something went flying over your head, landing right by your feet. It was a bright orange flyer turned into a paper airplane, and you turned around to see the perpetrator but they were long gone, caught up in the hubble of people crossing the sidewalk. You stepped over it, taking a breath before looking around to see if there was a space to chill anywhere.

A second later, you felt a hand reach yours, fingers grabbing on tightly. Looking up at Colson, he grinned down at you before walking in front, leading you across the active streets. You could see cars approaching in the distance, panic building up in you as he mindlessly strolled the lanes. 

Your first thought was to grind your heels but then you realized that both of you would just end up stranded in the middle of the road and that wasn’t ideal. Deciding to rush along forward, you passed Colson as his laugh echoed behind you. 

“C'mon fucker,” you spat into the wind, fingers still clutching his as you dragged him forward this time around. 

There was the beeping of a horn, and then a car went straight past the both of you as your feet hit the curb and you pulled him onto the sidewalk. 

“Where’s your sense of adventure Y/N?” he asked, eyebrows raising as a glare covered your features. 

“Standing in the middle of the street is NOT an adventure,” you ripped back, as he pulled up your joined hands to his face, turning them around. 

“When’d you hold my hand?” he asked, face distorted in confusion. 

“You held my hand,” you responded right back, knowing damn well he’d grabbed onto you first. 

“Oh,” he nodded, dropping your hands back down but not letting go. You furrowed your brows but let it go, at least this way you two wouldn’t lose each other in some crowd.

After a minute of standing in silence at the edge of the sidewalk, you looked around, wondering why the two of you were stuck here. 

“Why’d we cross the road?” you asked. 

“The dudes,” he explained, making absolutely no sense as he slyly pointed to the edge of the sidewalk with a head tilt. Following his motion, you saw a group of guys sitting on the curb, smoke clouds surrounding them. You could see a bong being passed around, and you grimaced, not even wanting to see how dirty the water might be. 

“I’m not smoking with them,” you clarified as he laughed. 

“Lost my lighter, I was gonna ask for theirs,” he voiced before finishing out with, “if it’s cool with you?”

You nodded, happy with the idea of him asking for permission. He dropped your hand then, walking over to the little group and you wiped your palm on your jeans, hoping it wasn’t as sweaty as you were feeling under the red, emanating lights of the club doors. 

Pulling out your phone, you glanced a look at the time. You still had half battery, and you sent out a quick text to the group chat, letting them know that you and Kells were taking a little bit of a breather outside, coincidentally leaving out the part about a joint. Slim got real upset when you wouldn’t include him in the smoke breaks during Vegas run, and you didn’t really want to share this with anyone else right now. 

-

“Got it lit,” Colson mumbled behind you as you turned around. The joint was already in his mouth, orange glow at the end lighting up, and you reached up for it, taking it from his lips into yours. 

Breathing in, you let the weed hit your lungs, feeling full. Blowing it out, you could already feel the lightheadedness and you smiled, knowing that in about five minutes, you’d be floating in space. Passing it back to him, you started walking again following the flow of the thinning crowd. 

You knew he was following you, could tell by the faint smell of weed lingering around, but you reached back anyway, curious to see what would happen. 

Cold fingers found yours, and you smiled at the familiar feeling of nerves building up in your stomach. This time around you were prepared for them. 

-

You’d been walking for some time now, the joint often passed between the two of you, hands swinging occasionally. You’d passed two Elvis impersonators, a wedding chapel decked out in bright pink, and three dudes in mohawks ripping out skateboarding tricks right in the middle of the street. The last one peaked Colson’s interest and you both stood there for a few minutes, cheering on the guys as they landed a high jump. 

You were a few blocks down and all of a sudden you both seemed to have stumbled into an impromptu concert. There was a little circle formed around, and you decided to check out what instrument was blasting out the music you could hear. Moving into the circle, you stepped closer until you saw the girl band. They had guitars and a smaller drum set propped up, a microphone placed as one of them stepped up and started singing again. They were covering some old song, and you moved to the beat, letting her voice shape up the melody. 

Colson was right next to you, the last of the joint glowing as he held it in his mouth, swaying up and down to the beat. The song finished, claps filling up the air around you. Before you could say anything, Colson let go of your hand again. 

Stomping out the burnt joint, he reached into his pocket, pulling out his wallet. Moving to where there was a bucket set for collection, he dropped a couple of bills, before turning back to you and finding your hand in the dark again. 

“That was awfully nice of you,” you snickered, finding happiness after the music filled up your veins. 

“They were hard. Probably gonna take over the world someday” he mumbled, knocking your shoulder with his own.

You hummed in agreement, letting the crowd guide you to your next destination. Vegas was weird, but the exact type of weird you needed right now. Reality seemed so far away and you let yourself live in the moment, enjoying the feeling of being lost within the crowds with someone you cared about. 

-

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