#but from what ive seen its basically two people hold each other by their chins (their 'goatees') and then they have to make the other laugh

[cchipollo]

random collection of doodles for the qcard hatechild au @technicolor-dreamss and i have been fixating on

[sadclearance]

right hand

pairing: katsuki bakugo x male!reader

summary: 5 things bakugo uses his right hand for + 1 thing bakugo uses his left hand for *wrote with “left hand” being in mind as a prequel, but can also be read as a standalone 

category: fluff

warning(s): none

word count: 1500

key:

s/t - skin tone

i.

when they were in high school, midoriya izuku noticed that bakugo katsuki--his childhood friend and bully--always started fights with a right hook.

which was incredibly powerful, albeit predictable.

midoriya still remembers a specific sunny morning in their third year when this expected yet efficient move was used for something that wasn't exactly a fight. a second year had made the unbelievably stupid mistake of--

"watch it, dumbass!"

and immediately after bakugo caught y/n before he could fall on his ass, bakugo's right fist met with the second year's nose, successfully breaking it and scorching off the hairs of the kid's eyebrows.

at the time, nobody really thought anything of it. bakugo was protective of the few people that he considered--but would never outright admit--to be his friends, and y/n was one of them.

ii.

but it was at the christmas social event that was held for the third years to get a chance to make connections as well as have fun before the end of their student years that it became clear that it was much much more than just friends looking out for each other.

"what're you doing all alone?" kaminari asked as he leaned against the wall next to y/n.

"everyone's either flirting with pro heroes or kissing their asses, and i'm not really in the mood to do either."

"yeah, i can see that," kaminari snickered as mineta got slapped in the face by mount lady after both a series of terrible flirting and a horrendous attempt to literally kiss her ass.

"surprised you're not doing the same."

"well..." kaminari said as he pointed up. he was wearing a hat with a hanging mistletoe.

"how not unexpected," y/n laughed.

"you know the tradition," kaminari winked pointing at his lips.

"okay, okay. for the holiday spirit--"

and as y/n leaned in to give kaminari a peck, a strong right hand grabbed his chin, and his lips met with a pair that belonged to someone else.

kaminari was too shocked to be disappointed after being pushed away by none other than bakugo.

"fuck off, dunce face," bakugo said before crashing his lips against y/n's.

that was one hell of a way to find out that two of his best friends were dating.

iii.

bakugo's jealousy only got worse after graduation.

but to be fair, that was his own fault.

he may have chilled out since their time together as first years, but he was still a headstrong ambitious hero.

they didn't go public with their relationship because bakugo figured it would be distracting to his goal.

which was a decision that he immediately regretted when he remembered just how attractive y/n was--something that other people clearly appreciated as well.

y/n got gifts, compliments, and very suggestive comments wherever he went, which did nothing but fuel bakugo's anger and displeasure.

there was a solution to this problem, and it was to let it be known to the world that y/n was his and his only.

instead of doing what normal couples do and going to an interviewer or announcing their relationship on his social media accounts, bakugo decided to--

"so... y/n," the barista looked at the name she just wrote on the cup and then back to y/n. "are you seeing anybody?"

"what's taking so fucking long?" bakugo asked as he came up behind y/n, right hand harshly meeting y/n's left ass cheek.

"ow! what the hell? there's paparazzi right outside of the window," y/n scolded, gesturing toward the crowd of people with cameras on the other side of the glass wall.

bakugo's only response was to press a kiss against y/n's lips, smirking into it as he saw a flash of light in the corner of his eye, fully aware of the fact that his hand was still on y/n's ass.

iv.

when he saw a building crumbling on top of y/n, he knew what he had to do.

he had faced a similar obstacle to this in his first year of high school, when he was up against round face--ochako. she had collected rubble that he had unknowingly provided and gathered it all up to the sky, later using it as a weapon by making it rain down on bakugo.

a building, however, had much more stone than a collection of collateral concrete that an individual collected over only a few minutes.

"y/n!" he shouted.

recreating the move from his first year, he raised his right hand and released a massive explosion--one much larger than the original maneuver.

he had succeeded for the most part. small bits of rubble rained down on them, but it was more like getting hit by hail than being buried by a boulder.

"bakugo!"

the mentioned man gritted his teeth and pressed the rough fingers of his left hand into his terribly cramped and pained right hand.

"you overdid it, you idiot!"

y/n rushed to get medical attention, and bakugo reluctantly let himself be pulled around.

he would've crudely yelled back that he didn't need help, but the worried look on y/n's face stopped him.

"i'm not gonna die, dumbass," bakugo rolled his eyes. the words were intended to come off harsher, and more like bakugo insulting a subordinate for not being able to see the obvious, but they came out closer to a soft reassurance instead.

"do that again, and i'll kill you myself," y/n glared. he looked more like an angry puppy.

"as if you could even land a hit on m--"

y/n's lips shut him up.

"even though that was the stupidest thing i've ever seen, thank you for saving me," y/n smiled, rubbing soft circles into bakugo's right hand.

"'stupidest thing you've ever seen'..." bakugo grumbled.

v.

"what the fuck are you doing?"

it's been a habit to hold hands while doing almost anything since their time together at u.a.

hell, they used to hold hands throughout basically all of high school except during hero training.

subjects like math, language, history--they didn't require both hands. they only needed to write on a piece of paper, and they only needed their dominant hands for that.

so it comes as no surprise that that habit followed them to their pro hero years, pale left hand entwined with s/t right hand as they finish their paperwork.

bakugo's confusion was prompted by y/n's sudden fascination with his right hand.

"i rarely ever give this one attention," y/n shrugged.

"it's not its own being. like a pet or a person."

the look bakugo gave y/n told him that he was the biggest dumbass in history, but y/n ignored it in favor of responding, "still a part of you i rarely get a piece of."

"i hate the way you worded that, creep..."

"you're still blushing."

"in your fucking dreams!"

+i.

going to a nice place was somewhat out of the ordinary for the two of them.

bakugo was focused on being the top hero, and being the top hero meant sacrificing a lot of time.

y/n doesn't know what changed bakugo's mind so suddenly, but he wasn't about to reject a once in a lifetime opportunity.

"the breeze is so nice," y/n breathed in the fresh air of the beach.

he had ran up to the gorgeous ocean, cold water hitting his bare legs while he tried to convince bakugo to join him.

"not up to the challenge? that's rare," y/n teased, turning his back to him and going deeper into the sea.

"oh, shut your trap! i have a damn good reason."

"yeah, i'm sure you do. you sure you aren't just cold?"

"i said shut the fuck up!"

"okay, okay," y/n complied and entertained himself with the vibrant blue waves.

"i love you," came bakugo's voice abruptly.

"that's weird, you never say it first, especially not without any form or profan--" y/n turned around to give bakugo a ridiculous look, laughing as he did, only to stop almost immediately.

"fuck y--" bakugo had to stop his habitual reflex. "marry me... dumbass?"

bakugo with a nervous tone, one knee in the sand, struggling to not get up because of the annoying shifting and imbalance, and a ring in his hands was a priceless sight to see.

"yes! yes! yes!" y/n ran back to the dry sand.

bakugo grinned and accepted the kiss but broke it off sooner than he would've liked for the fear of dropping the ring and losing it to the waves.

he slid the ring on y/n's hand with a proud smile before y/n demanded to have the other ring.

"shit, calm down," bakugo laughed, but he couldn't help but feel happy that y/n was just as ecstatic.

although he was the one to say that, bakugo's left hand struggled to stay still as y/n put the ring on bakugo's ring finger.

"i love you," y/n pressed his lips against the trembling left hand once he was done.

with the rings safely on their hands, bakugo could freely go back to enjoying the treasure that was y/n's lips.

❥๑━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━๑❥

a/n;

a sequel exactly a month after

i like this format because i'm shit at transitions

i mean just look at the shift from iii to iv...

i had an idea for the right hand theme for a while now since the battle trials when izuku mentioned the right hook thing but i was like woah i could do it with this while writing left hand

[jiikyu]

Taste of Marigolds In Bloom

Herb of the Sun — Or Marigold was often used during the Middle Ages as a love charm. Carrying one of these brightly colored flowers was thought to bring love. Though be warned for they are also poisonous. Chapter IV. Sitting in the back of a police car was not how you anticipated your night ending — And certainly not with Mirios arms wrapped around you all the while. You’re not sure how you got here. ∘◦ ✿ ◦∘ All characters are 18+ Yandere!Mirio x Fem!Reader(AΩβ) Y/N = Your Name F/N = Your Full Name E/C = Eye Color H/C = Hair Color

Warnings: Yandere / Unhealthy Behavior / Delusions / Angst / Possessiveness / Violence and uh Fluff? First Chapter Here❦ Previous Chapter Here❦ Next Chapter Here ❦

∘◦ ✿ ◦∘ “Oh hey!” Mirios leans his arm against the doors frame. “Isn’t this a lovely surprise.” “Hey, do you wanna come to Nabezos with me?” Your question takes him by surprise and he feels his arm slipping. It’s raining. “Sure, let me grab my jacket.” ∘◦ ✿ ◦∘ The little droplets from above mean the sidewalks are clear of people, it’s not often you practically get the city all to yourself. When Mirio agreed to come with you to the popular restaurant off campus grounds, he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t nervous. It wasn’t like you to swing by unexpectedly, at least not without some form of prior acknowledgement. Like a text. What’s even stranger was that you wanted to go to Nabezos, in the rain. Maybe it’s nothing to be get riled up over... The conversation flows in it’s usual lighthearted manor with you both throwing in the occasional jab. It’s normal. But if that’s truly the case then — Why won’t his heart stop hammering violently against his ribs? Somethings not right. He just knows it. Mirios pace starts to slow to a crawl, and little by little it all together stops. And you had been so close to making it to Nabezos, maybe two blocks down the sidewalk? Suddenly his appetite is gone. When there’s no respond to your corny joke do you turn to see the blond fallen behind. Everything about it feels so very wrong. Standing like motionless his yellow umbrella rests loosely in his grasp, shoulders slouching forward. But — You catch sight of something that freezes the blood in your veins. Tears threaten to spill from those blue pools. How had this happened? Only a few seconds ago were you chatting like normal. This proves all of your fears and suspicions, that there is something deep troubling Mirio. That’s why you were doing this right? You were going to do your best to gently coax out whatever was bothering him. Had you already messed up? The gap made between you wasn’t large by any means but by gods do you close it fast. Abandoning your umbrella to ground below as shoes splash against the wet pavement, now your standing before him in the rain. “Wait Mirio what’s happening? Why are you crying?” “Y/N...” His voice has been reduced to a rasp whisper, the usual optimism drained and you can see the bottom of the well. “Are you leaving?” Huh? The question confuses you even further. That cannot be the root of the problem, a small idle conversation between you and your friend could not have been the cause of this. “What? Of course not!” As much as you want to stay in Musutafu — Your words are not quite the full truth, are they? “Well I... I don’t actually know yet.” Do not make promises you cannot keep. The way he kneads his lip with his teeth, suffocating any sound from escaping, it does nothing but further shatter your heart into tiny fragments. If this continues you’re not sure you’ll ever be able to put the pieces back together. You’re about to speak again when the blond does the unexpected. Taking a deep breath he exhales, then the corners of his mouth upturn. It is nowhere near as radiant as his signature smile, and you know it’s not real. But now it’s his turn to close the gap. Taking the step forward Mirio dips the yellow umbrella so it no longer hangs over his head but yours. The thrumming of his heart drums against his ears, he’s sure you hear it too. “Y/N, what if I told you I don’t want you to go?” Oh. Wait? Does that mean? Oh. You feel the heat rise to your cheeks. “I —“ The soft pitter-patter of raindrops against the umbrellas canvas matches your own heartbeat. Fast and light, like suddenly you’re floating. You watch the collar of his gray gym shirt start to darken with moisture and droplets catching in that sunshine soaked hair. You swallow down your shame because — You’ve never been more sure of anything in your life. “I would say, I feel the same.” You’ve never seen someone visibly light up the way Mirio does when those words leave your lips. The very words he oh so desperately needed to hear. Was that all it really took? No, he must be dreaming. “Really?” The single word is laced with so much hope it’s palpable, it’s followed by a sniffle as he brings his thumb to wipe away a stray tear. “Of course idiot!” Your own eyes start to blur and you blink them away before it’s too late. “Now stop it, you’re gonna make me cry!” Your fingers grab a hold of the umbrellas metal handle, just above Mirios hand. You push it towards him, so it’s no longer covering only you. “There, now we can both stand under it.” Sure, both of you have a shoulder that’s going to get absolutely drenched, but do you care? No. Mirios eyes go big when you do this and you swear you see literal stars dancing in those pools of blue. You’re so blissfully unaware that everything you’re doing only furthers you both down this spiral. He’s staring at you like you’re his entire world. And he wouldn’t change a single thing about you, for anything. “Aw you’re such a softy Y/N.” “Wha — You were crying first! You started it.” It’s not fair. He really does have the most contagious smile you’ve ever seen. Hand in hand you and Mirio continue to make your way to Nabezos, your own umbrella is left forgotten to the rain. ∘◦ ✿ ◦∘ Dinner had gone so well that you’re left giddy and boy, does it show, your smile never once falters. Not even when the scent of cigarettes and alcohol starts to overflow your senses. Currently you’re leaning against the outside of Nabezos, the buildings bricks now having imprinted into your back. Awning overhang keeps you dry from the rain while your eyes stay trained to the bright screen of your phone. Sun having started its descent the color slowly begins to fade from the sky. But you’re not worried, campus is only a few blocks away.

And you have Mirio.

Now you’re just wait on him, who, being the forgetful man he is forgot his wallet at the table you had eaten at. Never in a million years would you believe someone as breathtaking as Mirio would return your feelings. 

Your happiness leaves you blind to the world.

“Hey are you d-deaf or do you just think it’s cute to ignore someone talking to you?”

Huh? Only when you look up from your phone do you realize there’s a man, who you don’t recognize, staring directly at you. Your mouth is suddenly dry. The stench of booze and smoke is so strong your nose is set ablaze. You can’t help but take shallow breaths. When had he gotten so close? Were you really that oblivious to your surroundings? Your pulse is racing but you don’t move, maybe if you continue to ignore him he’ll leave you be. What a stupid idea. Suddenly your wrist is grabbed, phone slipping from your grasp and it falls to the pavement. And now you’re trying desperately to yank yourself from of his grasp. But his fingers have an iron clad grasp around your limb. “What sort of game are you trying to play?” He’s shouting at you and you have no idea what he’s going on about, you just want to get as far away from him as possible. Your eyes barely catch the flash of yellow that appears over the drunks shoulder and before you know it he’s no longer holding onto your wrist — Or rather he was flung off you by an impact to the gut. The stranger lets out a cry as his back slams against the hard concrete below. You listen to him cough and sputter for air, but you don’t look — Your eyes stay glued to your savior. Mirio. Besides the loud grunting coming from the man who just got his guts rearranged, it’s eerily silent. You cannot see the blonds face, so you can only guess what expression he wears... But something feels off and that scares you. You finally tear your eyes away from Mirio when you hear the other stand. The stranger regained his footing but why isn’t he running away? Isn’t it enough? Mirio hasn’t moved an inch since landing the first strike, standing between you and the man. A shield. Neither move for a while, just staring each other down and you can see the sweat beading down the strangers face. You never would have expected Mirio to be the one to break the stalemate. Basically just straight up breaking into full sprint towards the stranger before banking a quick left. “Oh shit —“ Is all the man manages while raising his right arm, taking shaky aim at the blond, some sort of liquid ejects from his fingertips? Mirio makes it look so incredibly easy to dodge, the inky black substance lands somewhere in the shadows. Forgotten. The man does not get a second shot. An earth shattering blow lands under his chin and you swear you hear an echoing crack of bone against bone. And just like that it’s over — Or at least that’s what you tell yourself. Anyone would be knocked unconscious by the sheer force. But Mirio doesn’t stop. What if I told you I don’t want you to go? Those are the words that come to mind as your E/C eyes follow Mirios fist. Over and over again it connects with the strangers face. Time slows like some form of torture, you watch the man take each crushing blow. As you watch the blonds knuckles begin to turn a dark crimson. And you do nothing but stand frozen, a bystander, a participant. Even the ability to speak is lost to you. Only when the terrible sound of blood starts to bubble up from the man’s throat does Mirio finally release his white-knuckled grip from the shirts collar. Without the Alphas hold the unconscious body rag-dolls to the pavement below. God, does the sickening thud make you shudder in disgust. Now it’s just you — And the man who has only ever showered you with warmth and overbearing kindness. Towering over the bloody pulp of a man he stands with his back towards you, chest heaving as he attempts to recapture his breathing. Your mind is so vary far away right now but somehow, somewhere in your anxiety riddled state are you able to produce a single cohesive repeating thought. It’s something that comes so naturally it almost terrifies you, you might even loath yourself later for it... You cannot help but be frightened, not for the beaten man lying against the cold pavement, no your fears are for Mirios safety. For his sake. When he turns to face you you’re met with the burning blue of the ocean. And within seconds you swear you see the raging sea already starting to simmer. Your feet stay planted as your hero takes the first step towards you. Even if your life depended on it you’re not sure you’d be able to move an inch — Though it’s too late for that now, isn’t it? By the time you notice he’s practically all over you, but there is an invisible wall of tension that keeps him from touching. With the back of your shoulders pressed against the brick wall there is no escape from the cage of muscle surrounding you, thick forearms having rooted themselves on either side of your head. Every instinct screams at you, to run, to submit, to hide, to do anything useful. Maybe you’re broken. Instead, you find yourself entranced, E/C eyes trace along the scars of those very forearms keeping you trapped. The healed skin darkened where deep gashes once bled. Following the perfect blemishes to the meat of his shoulders you accidentally meet deep iris pools, completely and utterly awestruck. The expression Mirio wears is one you’ve never seen before. You want to tell yourself that it’s the shadows casted down by the looming cities walls — Or that’s it’s just the dark clouds raining down on you. But... You’re having a difficult time convincing yourself. “Are you hurt?” A low breathless whisper pulls you from muddy waters, dredged up from the murky depths of your mind. Was that Mirios voice? He’s close, so close, his ragged breathes ghost across the bare skin of your neck. Your eyes fall to the filthy lot concrete, where you’re barely able to make out the motionless mans shape. Why is it so hard to see? You hadn’t even noticed your eyes gloss over, fat tears already rolling down your cheeks. “M-Mirio you —“ The pain in your voice has his chest twisting in agony. Sharp thorns digging into the delicate flesh. Seeing you like this hurts worse than the searing ache in his knuckles. But it’s okay. Because you’re safe. The thin threads holding him back finally fray and snap. Mirios arms abandon the wall behind you, pulling you flush against his broad chest, muscled arms wrapped around your frame. “It’s okay. I’m here now.” His head rests atop your own, you feel his lips move against your locks as he continues to reassure you. “I’ll always be here — I promise.” You won’t ever have to be worry again. Being held only makes the flood tears worse, when your body melts against his so does the last bit pf willpower holding the dam together. Slowly you begin to hiccup into his shirt, your arms shakily wrapping around his neck, falling further into the embrace you feel his arms tighten. And now your balling in a empty public restaurant parking lot with a bloody unconscious body only a few yards away. The dying rain isn’t strong enough to wash away the scent of copper. ∘◦ ✿ ◦∘ Blinding red and blue lights flash across the cities walls. When you speak with the police — Well actually, it’s not so much you speaking with them as it is you listening to Mirio tell them the details of what happened and offering a weak nod when they wanted your input. You haven’t spoken much since exhausting your lungs and draining a lakes worth of tears onto Mirios shirt. His eyes keep darting to meet yours between every couple of words. You watch on as the blond speaks clearly and calmly with the officers, you envy his ability to do so. He’s even able to smile as if nothing happened — You finally tear your eyes away, choosing to look at a lone anthill, inches from your foot. The weight of his jacket keeps you semi-warm as you stand under the overhang of Nabezos, the smell of ocean and sun clings to the leather, you pull the fabric tighter around your shoulders. You had watched as three first responders wheeled the stretcher to the waiting ambulance. As soon as its doors slammed shut the siren blared to life and the vehicle sped away. It was a good sign you tell yourself. A sign that the man was alive. The invisible weight on your shoulder lifts, if only by a hair. “Do you need a ride home?” The question snaps you from staring at the pavement. A male officer, possibly a Beta? It’s hard to tell in the rain, he has kind eyes. There’s no time for you to search for an answer before a firm hand finds itself planted the deputies shoulder. Mirio now stands behind the rather startled man, all smiles of course. Though something about the curve of his lips doesn’t sit well with you.  “That would be great actually, can you give the both of us a ride?” It takes you a second to realize he’s answering for you. “We’re both headed the same direction.” “Of c-course.” The officer shakes away his initial fright by the time he finishes speaking. And you still have yet to process what’s happening. ∘◦ ✿ ◦∘ Sitting in the back of a police car was not how you anticipated your night ending — And certainly not with Mirios arms wrapped around you all the while. You’re not sure how you got here. But what you are sure of is that there isn’t an inch of you that doesn’t smell like the Alpha. He’s been scenting you ever since entering the vehicle, practically pulling you into his lap. It’s not so uncommon amongst friends — Although, you’re no longer just friends, are you? His hand could wrap around your wrist two times over. The blond has a delicate touch as he traces the pad of his thumb over your skin, he holds you as though you’re porcelain. The entire time your eyes are glued to the red busted skin of his knuckles. An uncomfortable clearing of a throat breaks the moment. You had almost forgotten about the police officer who so politely offered the ride home. You blame it on overactive instincts, that this is probably the norm, it’s a lousy excuse and you know it. And a part of you, one that you’re desperately trying to drown under the surface until there is no oxygen left, knows instincts are not the only thing at play here.

∘◦ ✿ ◦∘ When Mirio told you he’d be staying the night at your place you thought it had been an offer. Not a fact. You remind yourself that you know Mirio. Know that he would never hurt you, that he’s only looking out for you. That’s why you agreed. 

So what if your every attempt to convince him you’d be fine staying alone was disregarded. Right? 

You stare into the mirror, letting the sink fill with water. Paying no attention to the temperature you soak a hand towel into the ice cold liquid. Bringing the damp fabric under your eyes you wipe away the last remnants of tears marks. The soft knock on the door startles you from your haze, looking over you notice the shadow of what can only be a pair of feet peeking under the thin frame of wood. “Are you okay?” Mirios voice may be muffled behind the wood but it’s impossible to ignore the worry bled into every syllable. “Yeah.” Your own voice is still raspy from your crying, it reminds you how weak you truly are. “Just give me a few minutes... Okay?” “I’m here.” What you can’t see is the large hand pressed into the creases of door. “When you’re ready.” The outside noise seems to die down with that and you listen to the static of the running water as you strip out of your soaked clothing, peeling the wet material from your skin. The jacket that had kept you warm now hangs off the tubs edge. ... Mirio stands guarding the entrance of the restroom. Like a good boyfriend. Foot tapping nervously against the carpeted floor. This is all so new, usually the hero is in full control of his actions. But now — Every passing second is another nail plunged into his coffin, he might have really screwed up big time... And just when the two of you had finally become official. He doesn’t know what took over. But he does. When saw you cornered by some low life — He only remembers the feel of white hot burning rage coursing his veins and the look of terror in your eyes. He really dropped the ball hadn’t he? He doesn’t regret it. Not even for a second, he’d do it again, for you. His only regret is scaring you. Suddenly his foot stops its anxious drumming. It becomes apparent to him that — With you in the bathroom he has full range of your dorm, unsupervised. Not that he would do anything fishy, of course not! It’s just the first time he’ll get to appreciate your little temporary home. 

A glimpse at the future you’ll share.

Waiting by the door for another minute he takes the first experimental step away from his post, waiting with bated breath. Nothing. The only sound is the continuous running of a faucet. It’s the only sign he needs to continue onwards, down the hallway. By all means it’s not a long journey, in only a few of feet does the blond find himself in front of a cracked door, a dim light streams through the gap. With a featherlight touch he pushes it open to reveal what he’d hoped for. Your bedroom. He’s not disappointed, the room is so very you. It smells like you. Even when Mirio’s absolutely drained he can’t help but admire every little detail, even down to the lone sock lying forgotten in the center of the floor. A tired smile makes its way to his lips as he goes to pick it up, tossing it in the hamper sitting only a few feet away, a smile resting pretty on his features all the while. How forgetful you were. He doesn’t mind this, in fact quite the opposite — He can’t help think it’s quite domestic. Who knew he’d windup such a hopeless romantic? Before the blond knows it he starts to wonder what living together would be like. It really can’t be helped.

Mirio can almost envision you seated at his table waiting while he cooks your favorite meal, it might take him a couple of tries to nail but he’s anything if not persistent — Or perhaps, waking up to morning kisses with your legs tangled in knots. Maybe one day a couple of children that share both your and his qualities pop into the picture. He understands how silly it is all is, that he can’t help but feel as though he’s already been living this life with you. Too bad it doesn’t last. The sweetest of daydreams are cut to shreds when blue eyes catch the unmistakable flash orange and white of a bottle. On your nightstand are your suppressants, sitting carelessly for all to see. After staring for what is probably considered far longer than normal a not so innocent thought just sort of floats its way into his system and... Suddenly Mirio’s being crushed under the weight of something tremendous and hideous. Guilt. He could never. Everything’s falling into place, just the way it’s meant to. But — Some stranger had basically gone and flipped his world upside down in the matter of seconds. That drunk bastard leaning in close you, probably whispering dirty words to you... His fist clenches into a tight ball, knuckles still burn from the impact of skin against skin. God only knows what that creep was gonna do? That filth had tried to take you from him, there is no mistaking. Was it some sort of cruel joke, turning the best day of his life into one of the worst? A bead of sweat breaks along his brow as blue eyes continue to stare down the bottle of white pills. Fear has got Mirio in a chokehold and right now it’s a losing battle. You are someone he wants — No, needs to protect, that’s why he can’t stop but think... What would he do without you? He doesn’t notice his fingers have started moving on their own volition. Mirio cannot picture a world without you.

[farfromsugafanfic]

Innocence

Genre: Mafia AU, Angst, Fluff

Pairing: Namjoon/Reader

Warnings: violence, guns/gun violence, cursing, violence against women, home invasion

Synopsis: When you end up getting caught in the crossfire, you’re brought to the local mafia leader who promises to rehabilitate you. Although, falling in love you certainly wasn’t part of the plan.

﹥━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━﹤

"Shit, she's bleeding out," someone said from a few feet away.

"What? Who?"

"I don't know some random lady."

You moaned in pain as a pair of boots approached you and eventually, you could make out the fuzzy face of someone crouching over you. You couldn't tell where the pain was coming from, only that you felt it rippling through your body

"Fuck, Namjoon doesn't like when innocent people get hurt. We've gotta take her back with us."

"What? Isn't that just part of it? Innocent people get caught up in this shit all the time."

"Not the way Namjoon does it, come on, come grab her legs."

As one of the men looped his arms underneath your armpits, you felt one final jolt of pain that felt like it was ripping your body apart before everything went black.

﹥━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━﹤

"Is she going to live?" one of the men who'd brought you back asked.

"Yes, barely," Namjoon said, his face firm and his voice steadier than normal. "You're sure it wasn't one of your bullets?"

"All of our bullets were accounted for, sir."

Namjoon nodded. "If I find out either of you are lying, you know the consequences?"

Both men nodded in understanding.

The doctor emerged from the room where you were. "She's waking up, sir. I'll leave the rest to you. Call me if she starts showing any concerning signs."

Namjoon nodded and waved the doctor off and entered your room.

If it weren't for the drab gray appearance of the room, it would've looked like you were in a normal hospital room. An IV in your arm and white sheets pulled up to your chin. Your eyes were still closed, but your heart monitor was beginning to slowly pick up from it's near flat line when you'd arrived.

He pulled a stool from the corner of the room and sat next to your watching as your chest moved slowly up and down. The doctor had extracted the bullet and cleaned the blood from your skin and clothes. Your bloody jeans and sweatshirt had been washed and were folded on a table in the corner of the room. Your hair was still dirty, but the blood washed from its tips.

You looked younger than when he'd first seen you and it only made his chest ache. He had no idea who you were or what you had been doing in that part of town, but you certainly didn't deserve the bullet in your shoulder. It had nearly missed your collarbone and the important blood vessels, but you'd still lost enough blood to be anemic.

Your eyelids began to flutter and Namjoon sat still as he met them.

﹥━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━﹤

You opened your eyes and were immediately met with a pair of unfamiliar brown ones.

"Hello," the man said. He sat with his elbows on his thighs and his hands clasped together.

Other than the fact that you had no idea who the man was, the more concerning thing was that you had no idea where you were and you were seemingly alone with him. If you had to take a guess, the room almost seemed like a storage room of some sort; a cement floor and shelves lining all but two of the walls. They were mostly empty except for vague medical supplies.

"Where am I?" you asked, the beep of your heart monitor beginning to quicken.

"You're safe." The man sat up straighter, but his eyes never left you. "I'm Kim Namjoon. What's your name?"

You eyed him suspiciously. "Y/N."

"Just Y/N," he asked, his eyebrow arching.

"For now."

He chuckled before getting up and heading for a sink in the corner of the room. He filled a glass and walked back over to you with a pill in his hand.

"Take this," he said, placing the pill in your palm and holding the glass above you for when you were ready. You stared at him for a moment before glancing down at the pill. It looked normal and based upon the fact that this man was most likely the one responsible for saving your life, he would have no reason to kill you now, right? "It's an iron supplement. Cause you lost so much blood. You'll have to take them every day for a couple months."

You nodded and placed the pill in your mouth and swallowed it down. There was a feeling in the pit of your stomach that you could trust Namjoon, at least that he wouldn't kill you.

"Now, I need you to tell me everything you remember from the night you were shot."

﹥━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━﹤

You were on your way home after work. You'd just graduated and started in an entry-level position at your dream company, but it left you exhausted and overworked. It was already nearly 11 and you knew you should've allowed your co-worker to drive you home, but you didn't know him well enough yet to trust him with where you lived.

You normally felt fairly safe walking through the city by yourself. You'd grown up there and you knew the areas to avoid, but you were tired and decided to take a short cut through a rougher neighborhood.

You took out your headphones and increased your pace so that you were walking faster than your normal pace, but wouldn't look too scared or suspicious.

For the first ten minutes, everything was normal, but as you neared the end of the neighborhood and the beginning of yours, you heard yelling. You looked around and couldn't find a source, so you kept walking and as you crossed an alleyway, a man ran into you, knocking off your feet.

You sat up, your vision a little blurry and your head still coming off its daze. As your vision came back, you stood up and braced yourself against the wall. That's when you looked up and the shot came. You couldn't see who shot you, if they meant to, or if it was just an accident. Heck, you couldn't even tell which direction the bullet came from.

You fell to your knees and eventually on your back. At first, the pain was unbearable, you felt the blood pouring out of your shoulder, although couldn't tell if it was from the back or front. But, eventually, the pain ceased and your eyelids began to feel heavy. It was soon after the man lifted you that a final burst of pain caused everything to go black.

﹥━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━﹤

"You don't know who shot you?" he asked. The darkness in his eyes as he asked the question caused the pain in your shoulder to flare.

You shook your head. "It happened too fast."

He nodded, before getting up and leaving the room without another word. You then only saw strangers as they came to give you meals or check your wound which still had a long way to heal.

﹥━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━﹤

"Morning," Namjoon said, in the exact same cadence he said it every morning. He laid a tray over your lap which had a spinach and cheese omelet, toast, and a rotating menu of meats. Today was two slices of bacon. And, of course, on the side was a pair of iron supplements.

"Think you can eat it all today?" he asked. While you needed the nutrients, you had basically no appetite most of the time, but today, the toast was spread with a red jam it usually wasn't, which made you bite into it immediately. Raspberries. Your favorite. "Why don't you tell me about your job today?"

He pulled a chair to your bed and flipped it around and sat on it backward, allowing his arms to dangle off the top. The two of you had promised to tell each other something about each other each day. You knew it was a way to get information out of you and monitor your well being, but you didn't really mind. It started to become one of your favorite parts of the day.

"I'll tell you about mine if you tell me about yours."

He stiffened at that. You had your suspicions that Namjoon's job was less than legal considering how you ended up meeting him. You just weren't sure exactly what it was he did. Was he some sort of drug lord? A gang member? A pimp? Your stomach turned at the possibilities.

"Okay," he said. "You just have to promise that you won't be scared of me."

"O-okay."

He nodded, although you knew he caught the shaking in your voice. "You first."

"I—uh—I work for a non-profit that benefits women who have been victims of violence," you said. "I help process all the donations and make sure all the finances match up. I was an accounting major in college, but I didn't really feel like doing other people's taxes for the rest of my life. I want to feel like I'm making some sort of difference. Even though I don't make as much money, I feel like it's worth it."

"You are," he said. "You are making a difference."

Silence filled the room for a few moments, but it wasn't awkward or tense, it was simply you and Namjoon in your own thoughts. His eyes locked on you and your eyes unconsciously noticed the dimples on his cheeks that appeared and disappeared as he talked.

"All right, you promised," you said. "Your turn."

Namjoon's posture straightened and he cleared his throat. "Oh, well, I'm sort of the leader of the local mafia. I mean, it's not quite as nefarious as it seems. It's mostly just money laundering and stuff like that."

"But, you still kill people?"

"I never have. My men do only when necessary."

You gulped and pulled your eyes away from him. "Then, why did you save me?"

"Because I don't like innocent people getting hurt."

"How did this happen? How did you become the leader? You--you just don't seem like the type."

"My family," he said. "They kind of started this whole thing. I went to college and everything, but ultimately, I didn't know how to be anything else."

"You know you could always leave it behind. You're the leader. You could end all of this."

"It's not that easy. If I end it, I immediately become a target or someone would start it back up. And, let's just say, you don't want this kind of operation falling into the wrong hands. Many wouldn't have batted an eye at you getting shot."

"Don't think you're the hero here. Whether or not it was your men who shot me, whether or not you chose to save me, I still got shot because of you."

Namjoon's jaw stiffened and he crossed his arms over his chest. "You're right, I'm sorry," he said. "Although, it's not quite as easy to just leave."

"What did you study in college?"

"Huh?" He paused. "Literature and Writing."

You smiled. "Why don't you read to me?" you asked. "I never really got to take any literature classes in college and I missed them. I still have longer to recover. You could read to me whenever you wanted to."

"I'd like that," Namjoon said, his dimples appearing and lighting up his face.

﹥━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━﹤

You laid back with your head and neck pressing back against the pillow as you closed your eyes as Namjoon's voiced lulled you asleep. You knew it wasn't just his voice and the way his voice took on a smooth rhythm as he read or the way his voice grew hoarse eventually. The doctor had slowly been weaning you off of the painkillers, while the pain wasn't as intense as before, it still exhausted you.

He was reading from Jane Eyre a book you certainly hadn't expected Namjoon to choose. The gothic element was enough to send shivers down your spine, but not keep you from falling asleep.

You were halfway through the book now and you knew you would never finish. Your condition was improving and you barely needed pain medication anymore. The doctor came once a day and today he had told you that he thought you'd be able to go back to your own apartment and life the next day.

Namjoon stopped reading and it jolted you out of your half-slumber.

"Why'd you stop?"

"I thought you were asleep."

You opened your eyes and shook your head, although your eyelids were only half open crescent moons and the way you were forcing them open made Namjoon chuckle.

"You're tired, anyway," he said. He closed the book and stood up from his chair. "Goodnight. Sleep well."

You watched as Namjoon walked towards the door and felt something in your chest. "Wait," you said. "This is the last night and we haven't finished the story."

"Y/N, we still have half the book left. There's no way--"

"Just stay with me tonight," you said. "I'll have to go back to being in my apartment all alone tomorrow and I don't know. I've enjoyed having you around."

"Y/N--" Namjoon said. "You're just--this isn't right--"

Namjoon's eyes met yours for a second before he ripped them away and walked out of the room with the book still in hand.

﹥━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━﹤

"She--she asked me to stay with her," Namjoon said. He sat in his desk chair with his feet resting up on the desk, something he only did when he was thinking deeply.

"Is that a bad thing?" his right-hand man, Yoongi asked. "You like her, right?"

"Yes, but Yoongi, she hasn't been out of that room for weeks. She's only seen me and the doctor with only a couple of exceptions. It's just Stockholm Syndrome."

"We didn't kidnap her though. She could've left if she wanted."

"Yes, Yoongi, but why would she? She would've had to pay for medical care elsewhere. Even if we didn't mean to, we trapped her here. She's hardly seen anyone but me. Of course, she'll become attached."

"It's not like you were torturing her, Joon. You were helping her and I see the way you look at her too. Everyone does."

"If I wanted to, I can't give her the life she deserves. She's doing good things, Yoongi. She's innocent and I want her to stay that way." Yoongi nodded in his head in understanding, but there lingered a small glint of hesitation in his eyes. "And, even if I could, keeping her around her is dangerous. If our rivals found out about her, she'd become a target."

Namjoon sighed and stood up from his desk and shuffled through his papers. "Make sure she gets home safely tomorrow. Keep a couple of men in the area for the next week or so just in case it was a targeted attack."

﹥━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━﹤

"He's not coming?" you asked the man who introduced himself as Yoongi.

He shook his head and gave you a sympathetic look. "But, he did want me to give you this."

Yoongi reached into his bag and pulled out the copy of Jane Eyre Namjoon had read to you. It was an old copy--at least fifty years old--and he had a bookmark stuck halfway through. You opened to the marked page and found his handwriting on the bookmark. He wrote in black ink. It was neat, although smudged around the edges because he'd closed the book on it when the ink was still wet.

It's your turn to read now Namjoon x

Your eyes focused down on the 'x'. It certainly didn't mean anything, it was just his way of signing off, but it left you satisfied as you walked out of the door escorted by Yoongi and a few other men.

﹥━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━﹤

3 months later

"Y/N!" one of your coworkers said, rushing into your office. "You're never going to believe this."

"What?" you asked looking up from your work.

"Some guy just came in here. He was so handsome and wearing a fancy suit and he wrote us a thirty thousand dollar check." She held up the check so you could see it.

"No way," you said, grabbing the check from her hands. You held it up to the light and placed it under the black light you had to verify authentic donations. You had a weird feeling in your gut and you glanced down at the signature on the check. You couldn't make out a particular name, but a shiver ran down your spine. "What was his name?"

"Oh, well, I don't think he told us his real name. But, you know the rich types, always wanting to protect their identities."

"Y/C/N, what. was. his. name?"

"Mr. Rochester."

6 months later

"We're a bit short his month, Y/N," your boss said. "You know I hate to deduct from wages. It wasn't much this month."

You nodded. It was the reality of working for a non-profit. Sometimes you got paid and sometimes you didn't, but you knew the money was going to people more deserving of yourself. You waited until you were on your way home to open the envelope and see just how much you were getting that month. When your eyes met the total, you slowly looked down before continuing onto your apartment.

You pushed the key into the lock wondering just how you were going to scrounge up enough money for next month's rent. You could always sell something or do some odd jobs on the weekends. You opened your door and stepped inside feeling your foot slip forward, causing you to nearly trip, your only savior is your right hand was still holding on to the doorknob.

You got your footing and bent down to find a small envelope that was slid under your door. Your name was printed neatly on it. Normally, this would freak you out, but you noticed the same black ink from the bookmark in the copy of Jane Eyre.

I know money has been tight. Here's rent for the next couple months. Keep doing what's important x Mr. Rochester

Tears came to your eyes and your bit your index finger as you read the note over and over again. He was absolutely insufferable and part of you wanted to rip up the check, but instead, you slipped it out of the envelope and into your purse.

9 months later

It was a quiet Saturday night when you heard the knock at your door. It was nearly 11 pm and you weren't expecting anyone. You were already in your pajamas and you had picked up Jane Eyre for the first time in a few months. It wasn't that you found it particularly hard to read, but every time you picked it up, you were reminded of him. The man you had no idea why you still thought about. The man who occasionally came into your life and then left just as quickly.

The knock came again and louder this time. This time panic rushed down your spine and you froze. Was it best to approach the door and give away the fact you weren't asleep? Or was it best to just act like you'd already done to bed and hope they go away?

You stayed put, but clutched your cellphone close to you. Another knock never came, but instead the rustling of the doorknob and the clicking of the lock. It was when you heard it successfully unlock that you ran towards the kitchen. You grabbed your largest kitchen knife and crouched in the corner.

You were in the middle of dialing emergency services when you were yanked up by your hair and your cellphone went clattering to the floor.

"Ah, yes, you are her," the man said.

You didn't recognize the man in front of you. He was taller than you and held your hair in a tightening grip that caused you to whimper.

"You're plainer than I expected. He's head over heels for you, so I figured you must be beautiful. But, I guess, you must have better things to offer." He smirked, but unlike the smirks Namjoon sometimes let slip, this one terrified you.

"Who are you?" you asked.

"It doesn't matter to you baby girl," he said. "All you need to know is that you're going to die."

﹥━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━﹤

"Namjoon!" Yoongi said, running into the room, breathless. His face was red and his eyes were creased, almost in fear. It was uncommon for Yoongi to get so worked up, let alone run. He spoke when he finally caught his breath, "Min-sung," he said. "Min-sung was seen near her apartment."

Min-sung had once been a trusted man, but he began getting greedy. Wanting to take all the jobs. Skimming money off the top. He felt betrayed when Namjoon finally let him go. You'd think he'd be grateful, most other bosses would've had him killed for how much money he stole, but no. Min-sung's mind was only focused on the drugs he took and the money he needed to buy them.

Namjoon's eyes widened. He pulled open his desk drawer, nearly pulling the entire drawer out of it's setting. He pulled out a handgun and fed in the clip. It had not once been fired. Namjoon had never had the urge nor the need to kill, until that very moment.

﹥━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━﹤

"I'm going to play with you," he said. "To let him know you suffered. His precious little secret on the south side of the city."

"Please, I don't know who you're talking about. The walls are thin. I'm sure the neighbors are worried by now." Both were lies, but you hoped it came off convincing enough. He'd let go of your hair, but now he straddled you.

"Tell me, how do you want to die?"

"I don't want to die."

He laughed. "Of course not, sweetheart. But, you're going to. I'm being generous and giving you a choice. I could take that knife you had when I came in and stab you or I could kill you with my hands on your throat. Or, I could hold your head down in the bathtub and watch as you writhe around--"

Tears pushed out of your eyes and you felt blood sprout from your bottom lip as you dug into it. You squirmed underneath the man trying to wriggle yourself free or one of your limbs free.

"You know, I haven't really given much thought to dying," you said. You slowly slipped your foot upwards until you had enough leverage to bring your knee into his crotch.

He doubled over in enough pain for you to free yourself. You ran back towards the kitchen to grab the knife from earlier. You wrapped your palm around the hilt, but he was behind you before you could turn around. With all your might, you forced the knife backward, but it was at an awkward angle. Yet, you still heard him wince.

The knife dropped from your hand and the man turned you around, forcing your back against the counter. You noticed a long cut on his arm and felt a small sense of pride. At least if he was going to kill you, he would have a scar.

His hands wrapped around your neck and his thumbs sat right on top of your windpipe. You made eye contact with him as he pushed down and you made a small croaking sound as your eyes grew wider and your toes pointed in reaction to the lack of air.

"Stop...please...help...Namjoon..."

You managed only a few words before you ran out of air to manage any sounds. Your vision was beginning to blur and you knew in a few seconds you'd black out and it'd be the end.

The last few moments were so loud you couldn't make out what happened. Yelling, shuffling, a slam of a door, a loud pop. Then, it was all over.

﹥━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━﹤

"Y/N, Y/N, please come back to me."

You opened your eyes to see Namjoon crouched over you. Blood stained his shirt and even parts of his skin, but his hand was clean as it caressed your cheek softly.

"Thank God," he said. "I thought I was too late. The doctor is on his way and so are my men to clean up everything. We'll pay off the neighbors to keep things quiet if we have to. You don't need to worry."

"I'm not worried, Namjoon." Your voice was hoarse and still not all the way there. You felt the bruises forming on your neck and your entire body ached. You turned you head to see your attacker laying in a pool of blood a few feet away.

"Hey, hey, don't look at that. Come on."

"I'm not a child."

"That doesn't mean you need to see a dead guy on your kitchen floor."

He lifted you up and carried you into your bedroom. After setting you down, he went back out to the living area and grabbed the copy of Jane Eyre.

"You didn't get very far."

"I've been busy."

﹥━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━﹤

1 year later

Namjoon is almost done setting up everything in his new office when he hears a soft knock at the door. A delivery person carrying a large bouquet of flowers strides in and sets the vase on his desk and left without a word.

Curious, Namjoon walked from the corner of the room where he had been shelving books and to the center of the room. He plucked the card from among the flower heads.

I finally found time to finish the book. Congrats on the new job. Let's meet soon. Love, Jane

[interrogatormentors]

Event Nine: Promise

[CW: death, drowning]

The weeks following the start of the emotional conditioning bore down on Sollux with the force of a dead whale. He could feel the walls pressing down on him, suffocating and claustrophobic, and half the days he found himself waking from helming daymares. 

The others fared no better. 

Ophlia didn���t seem to sleep. Zesaim sat on her bunk for hours at a time, wall-eyed, while Rosmer cried in other troll’s voices into the day. Sollux hadn’t known the olive could mimic voices, and wished that had remained a secret. Mercuo often woke gasping, holding onto his gills before tucking himself next to a stonefaced Trisia.

Ualona managed to hold himself together somehow, and often came to Sollux for help. After their now nightly emotional conditioning they huddled together for warmth, heads leaned in over their tablets. This morning however, Ualona came back to the bunks quiet. He tapped on his tablet for near to an hour before several identical text notifications dinged from all their tablets.

[actualizedClairvoytant [AC] has opened up the memo keepyourmout-| |-ss-| |-ut] twinArmaggedons [TA] has entered the chat! glorifiedCorpsification [GC] has entered the chat! chronicAcademician [CA] has entered the chat! castigatedTrepidation [CT] has entered the chat! cavortingGratuity [CG] has entered the chat! accentuatedAntimony [AA] has entered the chat! TA: the fuck UA ii can barely uncurl my fiinger2 2tiill wtf ii2 up?? AA: jus7 spi7 i7 ou7 bud i wan7 7o ca7ch some zs while i can AA: 7heyre 7hrowing new shi7 a7 us soon i can feel i7 AC: cant AC: the mics remember?

Sollux glanced up and off to the side, where the speaker produced its steady whine as usual. It would be stupid to think the connection didn’t go both ways.

TA: okay 2hoot TA: what have you got?? AC: i was digging in t-| |-e interrogatormentor arc-| |-ives and i found all our files. CG: and How does THat even Help us? CG: i don’T need To know wHaT They Think of me. CA: treasOOn.

A whimper came from Rosmer’s bunk, and Sollux looked down to see Ophlia staring the olive down with bloodshot eyes and bared teeth.

AC: okay treason aside youll wanna -| |-ear t-| |-is. AC: especially you rosmer.

[actualizedClairvoyant [AC] has sent the file flunkies.txt]

Sollux scanned the document, brows furrowed. Even in the confidential archives someone had censored the documents, black lines smeared across various points of data. Someone else, Ualona no doubt, had highlighted specific sections of each.

Mercuo Trevan: Interrogated and broke a rebellion recruiting ring in Imperial Navy recruits. Purposefully joined, goals for the BC Reichenbach. 

Zesaim Exeria: Random draw. Induce failure in time for unit on psionic alterations to the brain due to psionic projection ability.

Sollux Captor: Former helmsman, isolated rebels in brig to promote surrender; reportedly accessed the Imperial Network and ran a long-standing data mining protocol for several sweeps prior to capture and indoctrination. Brought to attention by Head Admin Eridan Ampora and ██████ ██████ [████████].

Trisia Avarae: Identified several problem spots in local drone patrol routes and took down a single unit. Promote immediately upon graduation.

Ophlia Davrot: Drowned a head subjuggulator in sacrificial blood pools following an identical attempt on her life due to poor humor. Tested on basic interrogatormentor techniques and passed with an 89%.

Rosmer Leywet: Random draw. Induce failure at convenience of instructor. Recommended for immediate cremation; has no particular talent nor purpose. Proposed: preserve vocal chords for study? Request denied.

Ualona Reshan: Hacked into the imperial network and managed to stay online for five minutes. Sent a notification to the drones through this system for two removals of traitors in apartment directly above residence in hivestem.

The chat stayed idle for a few minutes, before Sollux broke the silence with the gentle clacking of his claws against the tablet screen.

TA: 2o what doe2 thii2 mean?? TA: are the2e  TA: accurate?? AC: t-| |-ey are for me GC: *YeS.* CG: seconded. AA: you mean 7hirded!

Mercuo grabbed his pillow, reaching out and smacking at Trisia’s ankles. She managed a shaky laugh. “Fourthed!” she said, before chugging from her water bottle. Rosmer only pulled his knees closer to his chest.

CT: they told me i won a lot~tery, CT: why would they tell me oth~er~wise, AC: t-| |-ey want people to fail TA: oh 2hiit TA: that’2 where they’re gettiing the te2t 2ubject2 for all theiir traiiniing viideo2. TA: how el2e would they have 2o many liive feed2 whiithout a hiigh piing rate??

Zesaim put a hand to her mouth, looking over to Rosmer who buried his face in his hands. He started crying, in a voice Sollux didn’t recognize this time. Ophlia broke her weeks long silence in a voice like rusted nails scraping up against each other.

“You know what we must do.”

Sollux woke in a web of wires, head pounding to the beat of a familiar, klaxon alarm. He jerked in the helming harness, throwing his head back as he tried initiating a defense protocol. Nothing came to him, the only response a blinding pain from his temples that whited out his vision.

“Status report,” said a voice, somewhere off to his left.

“Helmsman A1A100 reporting system disconnect. Attempted sabotage detected. Administrator password required to proceed.” Sollux swallowed, trying to moisten his dry lips. Hang on. What happened to the humidity?

He opened his eyes, registering Rapard standing at attention just before another wave of pain jolted up his spine. Sollux almost yelled before he caught himself, sucking in a breath instead and separating himself from the sensation as he’d been taught.

“Nice work, Captor,” Rapard said, moving forward. “That’s the fastest recovery I’ve seen yet. Welcome to your next stage of emotional conditioning.”

Sollux gritted his teeth, brows furrowing before he forced them smooth. “Yes sir,” he said, forcing the words out even as instinctive terror roiled in his gut. He didn’t want to helm again. He couldn’t helm again, and this facsimile of flying left him mentally scattered. He shoved away the thought that this exercise was in response to Ualona’s discovery the night before. He’d written the code necessary for them to have private chat rooms himself.

Rapard began his usual patrol around the room then, throwing random trivia at Sollux in time with electric pulses that surged through nodes attached to his sealed ports. Sollux held firm, his face a mask of blank indifference as he forced himself to disassociate from the pain. The questions remained easy enough, all tidbits from the lessons on technique. They were so innocuous, in fact, that at first Sollux thought he imagined Rapard’s next line of inquiry as a claw traced on his chin.

“How long have you known the rebel insurgent known as Karkat Vantas, hex code unknown?”

“What?” Sollux blinked, shaking his head as he tried to return to reality. 

He yelled as Rapard pressed a button on the remote in his hand, the electric charge at least double what he’d experienced so far.

“Pay attention, Captor,” Rapard said. He leaned in close, nose an inch from Sollux’s own. “Separating yourself completely will only lead to you missing important data.” He pressed the button again, face impassive as Sollux jerked in the wires. “Now, answer. How long have you known Karkat Vantas, rebel insurgent? Where is he?”

Sollux swallowed hard. The name rattled around his pan, sending guilt and anxiety through him in equal measure. No. How did they know? He’d tried to lock away that information, bury it deep inside of himself and throw away the key during his time as a helmsman. How did they know about Karkat? Did they know about Feferi, or Kanaya? He’d seen Eridan’s named on his file the other night, had he turned traitor?

Rapard pressed the button again, and Sollux screamed as his muscles involuntarily tensed. The smell of burnt flesh hit his nostrils, and his vision faded in and out of focus. “I don’t- Shit!” Another electric charge, and Sollux’s fists clenched on nothing. He tried exercising his learned behaviors from lessons, stepping outside of the pain and attempting to retreat into his own thoughts. Karkat’s face met him there as he’d last seen him, hunched in front of his webcam and begging Sollux to run as the noise of drones echoed around Sollux’s hive.

Rapard tapped him on the nose, deliberate and mocking. “I won’t ask you again, recruit.”

“Since I was five,” Sollux said, flinching as Rapard’s finger twitched on the remote in his hand. “I don’t know where he is now.” He yelled, back arching as another charge surged through him. The klaxon alarm grew louder, reverberating in time with the pounding in his skull. “I don’t! Fuck! Alternia! Eastern quadrant, coordinates 56 by 900, bunker!” The shocks did not dissipate as he cried out, only increasing in power and frequency.

As Sollux hovered on the edge of consciousness Rapard grabbed his jaw, claws digging into the skin enough to draw tiny pinpricks of yellow blood. “Good, nice work,” he said. Sollux caught a glimpse of the seadweller’s teeth as he grinned, red light glinting off the jagged edges. “I want to make you a promise, Captor. Are you listening?”

“Yes.” Sollux gulped for air as the shocks abated for a few moments, taking the respite to separate himself from the pain and emotion in time for the pain to start anew. He did not so much as cry out, sweat beading along his forehead as he forced it away. He finally understood Ualona. What did Rapard promise you?

“You stay with the interrogatormentors, you stay compliant and devote yourself to the empire, and we won’t touch Vantas,” Rapard said. “You step a toe out of line, you get a single demerit, and you’re receiving his head on a platter. You understand?”

“Yes.”

“Good.”

The lights dimmed then, and Sollux sagged as electricity stopped surging through the wires. He fell into his knees as Rapard cut him down, but forced his head high even as every muscle shook with the effort. As he hauled himself up and staggered from the room Sollux couldn’t find himself to feel fear, for himself or Karkat. He couldn’t feel anything at all. Even the pain had faded into the background, a distant reminder as he dragged himself to the mess hall. He sat in silence, staring at his food. Only Zesaim and Rosmer seemed themselves, with Rosmer even offering a shaky Ualona one of his classic beaker-made cookies. “You deserve it after what you found this evening,” the olive said, smiling. “It’s the least I can do to repay you.” The smile did not reach his eyes.

As per usual, physical endurance training took place the next night. Sollux moved towards the pool, hoping to exercise in a less load-bearing way, only for Instructor Pozoia to put a hand out. “Bikes, recruit,” the cerulean said, jerking his head in the way he wanted Sollux to go. “Ualona, take the pool.”

Ualona paused, blinking as he shook his head. “Huh?”

“The pool, Ualona,” Pozoia said, pointing.

“Oh, right, right.” Ualona trudged over to the pool, rubbing his eyes before jumping into the water. Sollux paused, but turned away to climb onto one of the exercise bikes. They’d all been a little out of it since yesterday.

After a half hour a loud splash caught Sollux’s attention, and he turned his head to see Ualona starting to flounder in the pool. Something seemed off-- his movements were erratic, head lolling to the side and dipping into the water a few seconds at a time. Sollux lifted a hand, catching the instructor’s attention and pointing. “Sir? Ualona needs help.”

Instructor Pozoia glanced up from his tablet, looking down his nose at Ualona’s struggle. “He can help himself, or drown,” he said, swiping his finger across his tablet.

Sollux hesitated before lifting his feet from his bike’s pedals, hopping off just as Trisia touched down from the climbing wall. “No, look,” he said. Ualona was starting to dip more and more, audibly choking every time he surfaced.

“He can’t even move his arms!” Trisia grabbed onto the instructor’s arm, only for Pozoia to jerk it away with a purse of his lips.

“Go ahead and help him,” Pozoia said. He met Sollux’s eyes, then Trisia’s, face set. “That’ll be a demerit on both your records.”

Sollux’s breath caught in his throat, and all his concern for Ualona melted away as Rapard’s words echoed in his ears. Automatically his learned responses kicked in, disassociating him from the situation at hand and rooting him to the ground until Ophlia charged past him with the surging fury of a freighter.

“Ualona!” The purple bounded across the gym’s floor in a matter of seconds, light on her feet as she made a beeline for the pool. Instructor Pozoia let out a soft sigh, and grabbed onto Ophlia’s horn as she passed and pinched at the base. Ophlia seized up, hesitating just long enough for Pozoia to drive his shoulder into the much larger troll’s chest and bowling her onto her back. Ophlia roared, eyes reddening before Pozoia stomped his foot onto her throat and cut her off. “No,” she croaked. “No, save him! Bastard! He doesn’t deserve to die!”

Ualona surfaced from a minute-long stint underwater then, screaming with a fury in contrast with his sluggish movements. “Rosmer!”

Rosmer froze in place, turning his head just enough to indicate he’d even noticed. “Yes, Ualona?” His whisper barely made it over the sound of Ualona’s splashing and Ophlia’s choking from the ground.

“Bastard!” Ualona sank again, kicking and driving himself into the wall. He surfaced again, voice burbling around the water in his throat before he could speak again. “Rat! What did you put in that cookie?” He let out a wet sob, choking. “I don’t want to die! Please, don’t let me die-- fffkrk--” Once again he fell beneath the surface of the water, and Sollux wasn’t surprised that he did not rise again. A sense of finality settled over him as he watched the water, and another voice of the doomed went silent.

Rosmer walked to the edge of the pool, watching as Ualona’s body drifted up to the surface. Without warning he spat into the water, turning back to face the others. “Sorry, that was rude,” he said. He smiled, but his eyes remained vacant and glassy. “You all saw his chat messages. He put us all in danger.”

Sollux looked past Rosmer, barely registering the sound of Ophlia continuing to wheeze and the dull thud of Trisia landing a mean right hook to Rosmer’s jaw. Rosmer’s glasses clattered in front of Sollux, but he didn’t move as he continued staring at Ualona’s body. 

For a moment he saw Karkat, curly hair floating in the water. 

Sollux blinked, and the vision faded. He tried to feel something, anything for the rust he’d considered a friend, but nothing came to him except a dull resignation. 

If he didn’t want to end up like Ualona, dead in the water, he had to play his part.

[softevan]

Ride Me Baby *Part Two* (Harry Styles Mature Mini Series)

Hiya guys, so a lot of you have been requesting a part 2 of this story and wanting to know where it goes from there, so I decided to start this as a mini series, but ill let you guys give me the feedback first before I continue on. This is going to be a very explicit series so you have been warned. But without further of due, lets get into it! I hope you guys enjoy it, -K **WARNING, EXPLICIT AND DETAILED CONTENT, READ AT YOUR OWN RISK** +18

Word Count: 2,978

Harry’s POV Its coming up to mine and Y/N’s 3 year anniversary, and I have decided to surprise her with a holiday away to Bora Bora for a week or so, I’m so excited to tell her what I have planned. She has always wanted to go there and with me making Dunkirk and writing my solo album we didn’t have time to do anything for our anniversary last year. So to make up for last year I think this will be perfect! I was sitting in our newly furnished kitchen at the island trying to figure out what I wanna order us for dinner. Y/N Is so indecisive when it comes to anything let alone food so its so hard to know what she wants to eat. Maybe ill wait until she comes home. Just as that thought came through my head I heard the creak of the front door opening and her heels clicking against the tiled floor. “Harry?” “Kitchen” As I heard her set her purse on the side table I heard her enter the kitchen making me look up. “Baby girl” “Hey” Her face started to blush as she made her way over to me. I love the way she blushes every single time I call her that. She is my baby girl. “How was your press day?” She is promoting a new campaign with PETA, ‘I Would Rather Be Naked Than Wear Fur’ which is an amazing organisation that makes people aware of animals being killed for fashion. I’m so proud of her for making her fame into something to raise awareness for, one of the main reasons I love her. “Yeah it was good, just going over the same questions over and over and over, gets very boring but I’m glad its over” She sighed as she took off her cardigan, folding it neatly to put on top of the island. “Im proud of you baby, press days are always the worst though” Giving her a tiny pout. She giggled a little at my facial expression and walked over to the sink. “Where is my kiss hello?” “Sorry I was thirsty” She again giggled as she made her way over to me. I took her hand pulling her towards me, opening my legs for her to stand between them. “Missed you today” She whispered as she inched closer for a quick peck. “Well your home now” kissing her on her forehead I looked at her in awe. “So I have something for you” “Okay...” She replied with hesitation in her voice. “So you know the way its our anniversary next week?” “Yeah” I pushed her a little for me to get up, making my way over to my coat. “Well last years anniversary was a bust, you know that. So what better way to celebrate basically two years this year than to do something amazing” I took the envelope out of my coat pocket and made my way over to her. “Here, happy anniversary baby” I handed her the envelope and giving her a kiss. “Harry thank you” Her hand grasped the envelope looking down at it. “What is it?” “Well open it and see” Her fingers quickly ripped open the paper to find two plane tickets. “What.. This isn’t.. No way Harry!” Her face immediately lights up towards mine with the biggest beautiful smile that I know and love. “Were staying in Bora Bora for a week, you deserve it” “Oh my god Harry this is too much” Her hands started to shake, so cute. “Y/N your deserve everything and more. You’ve been so understanding this last year when I wasn’t around much and finding it so stressful and hard. But you made it so much better and being there for me when I needed you, and putting your life on hold for me, that really means a lot” I said looking down at her. “I love you so much Harry you have no idea” She draped her arms around my shoulders playing with my curls at the nape of my neck. Her hands then pulled my face into hers, kissing her so deeply, so passionate. “I love you so much” I whispered as I pulled away. I started kissing all over her face and she began to laugh uncontrollably. I pulled her waist into mine as she started to get weak in the knees with her laughter. My favourite sound. “So shall we go pack?”

*1 Week Later...*

Y/N’s POV I still cant believe that I’m going to Bora Bora, ive been dreaming of going since I was a little girl. Plus having Harry come with me is the topping on the cake. Waiting in the airport with paps and fans is still a lot to take in, but thinking about our holiday is making it not a problem in my eyes. “You ok?” “Yeah H I’m fine, can we go now?” I begged as Harry started to giggle. We can go when they say we can go. “Okay Harry your jet is ready for you” “See?” I started laughing as I grabbed my hand luggage and clutched Harry’s hand in the other. After getting through all the paps onto our private jet, I could finally relax. Harry came soon after me and sat beside me. “In a few hours time we will be sitting outside drinking cocktails watching the sun set” “Oh my god yes can you imagine how amazing that would be?” “Thinking about you in a little tight bikini watching the sunset, that is truly amazing” He whispered in my ear, making sure no one else heard. I slapped Harry on the thigh, then soon after caressing it as we took off. As soon as we landed we were greeted my so many staff that were ready to take out luggage to our rooms. A woman gave me a glass of champagne as we entered our room. We thanked them as they left, Harry giving them all tips as they left. As the gentleman he is, he always makes sure that they all feel thanked. Harry closed the door and turned to face me. “What do you think of the room?” I turned around to take In the view in front of me. The living room had a U design, facing the view outside. I looked around the kitchen, white, pure luxury. I walked into the bedroom seeing the roses laying on the neatly made bed. “Harry this is, its so, I just cant believe that we are here, its so romantic” I turned round to see Harry smirking looking down at his feet. Looking up and walking towards me he had his hands coming out to hold mine, pulling me closer to him. “You like it baby?” “Oh my god Harry its so much more beautiful than I envisioned” “No your more beautiful” His face being dead serious. “Harry” My face looked down in embarrassment. I don’t take compliments from Harry very well. He is more than perfect for me, I just don’t get why he chose me, I’m the luckiest girl in the world. He lifted my chin with his hand to guide my lips to his. He slowly let go of my lips to look at me, smiling at my reaction to his lips. “Thats not the best part, look behind you” I turned around to see opposite the bed the most breathe taking view ive ever seen in my life. The 5 panes of glass surround the front of the suite to show the bright crystal blue water and the private pool especially for us. There was a table filled with fruit and lit candles were scattered around the whole outside area. It couldn’t have been more romantic. “Oh my god Harry” I ran out the two glass doors outside, feeling the heat of the sun radiating off of my skin. The smell of fresh water and the feeling of pure peace and silence instead of screaming fans and pure chaos everywhere was amazing. I suddenly felt Harry’s arms wrap around my waist as my eyes closed when I sunk into his chest, feeling his chest moving from his breathing. I turned around to him, wrapping my arms around his waist, his connecting with mine. “Harry you have no idea how much this means to me. Not just actually coming here and taking in the most amazing place you could go, but being here with you. I love you so much it hurts” This is the first time ever that ive ever said this to Harry, I’ve never had the right time to say it, nor did I feel confident about telling him about the way I truly felt about him. But this moment right here, is just more than perfect. “Y/N, I love you so much, your my princess, you deserve the whole world. I love you so fucking much”. He lifted his arms to bring his hands up to my face, bringing my lips to his once again, only with more passion, lust, love. I haven’t felt this feeling in a long time, this lust for him is increasing in the matter of seconds. Me and Harry haven’t had sex in so long. Its not like we didn’t want to. We just haven’t had time ourselves to actually take in each other and make memories, just spend him with him. This feels so right, it feels like the way we started our relationship with pure attraction and sex. Harry lifted me pulling my legs around his waist as he walked into the bedroom. As we kissed passionately he lay me down on the bed with him between my legs. His hands started to roam around my torso. My neck, my collarbones, my chest, working his way down. He made sure he wasn’t neglecting any parts of my body as he went down. He suddenly sat up from the bottom of the bed looking at me with darker eyes, taking a mental picture of me. “Cant have anyone peeping in on us now do we?” He smirked as he took a remote control which started to pull the curtains over the windows and turning on romantic light pink lights all around the bedroom. “Wow that is so cool” He made his way over to me again with lust in his eyes. I know this is going to be an amazing way to start our whole trip. As she slowly made his way down kissing my belly button, he pushed up my flower dress and scrunched it half way up my body, looking down at my heat. He starting kissing around my thong, my thighs, taking in his view above. He brought one of his fingers up and slowly grazed it over my covered heat, hitting the bundle of nerves at the top. The sudden pleasure hit me right where I needed it, shocking me into a moan releasing through my lips. He then lifted my hips up to remove my underwear, pulling them down inch my inch. Once he removed them I raised my hips up and brought his head down so I could get some relief from the burning inside me. “Baby you are soaking” He looked up at me with that smirk. That smirk. That smirk could just make me cum in two seconds. He suddenly stuck his tongue in between my folds as he started to do kitten licks up and down. Again more moans escaped from me as he put more pressure on it. As he got faster my eagerness became stronger, my stomach felt like it was going to explode with pleasure. “Harry” I whimpered as he puts a finger inside me with him licking me out. This is the best feeling in the whole world. “Your going to cum aren’t you? Cum for me baby so you can ride me” My hips started to shake uncontrollably making Harry have to hold me down as he went faster and deeper. My release came as strong as ive ever felt it, making me scream his name over and over. After I finished I looked down to see Harry licking his lips bringing his face back up to mine, rushing a kiss to my lips. I pulled his torso towards me again, bringing my hands in between us so I could bring my hands to his hard on. I started to unbutton his trousers and push them down with my feet. He had to get up so he could take them off. I took that to my advantage so I took off my dress completely. He couldn’t keep his eyes off of me when I was undressing myself. As I looked down I could see him underneath his boxers, he always seems to impress me. “What are you waiting for?” I asked as I lay back on the bed with my legs slightly bent letting him see my heat ready for him. “I want to look at you for a second, take in how hot, sexy my girlfriend is, so when I’m away, I will always remember this moment. My hand cant do it the same though” He smirked as he made his way down to tower over me, his hand returning straight to my folds as he started rubbing them again. I started to giggle as he came down to kiss my breasts that were still covered. I pushed him up by his shoulders and made him lay down on the bed. I put my leg around him making me straddle him, knowing that there is nothing but thin boxers between us, was so fucking hot. I started kissing him slowly, grinding on him as me made a manly groan, taking his hands and kneading my bum.

I put my hand down in between us and into his boxers, taking out his big veiny dick, with the pre cum sitting on top, and went down to start to lick at the tip. “Baby I cant let you suck me off, ill cum in like two seconds. I’ve been waiting for ages for to be inside you, filling you. Fuck just let me fuck you” I nodded as I made my way up to his face again. He took his dick and start to jerk himself off abit while we were kissing again. He then took his dick and started rubbing it around my folds, rubbing up past my clit. “Fuck Harry” I moaned beside his ear as I heard his breathes getting harder and deeper. I quickly sank on top of him, him slipping in so perfect, stretching me felt amazing. “Holy fuck” He murmured as I started to ride him at a quick pace, keeping my balance beside his head. He hands automatically ran to my bum, pushing me down harder onto him, also hitting my clit as I rode him harder. After a while I started to get tired. Harry picking up on this decided to lift me up. “Bend over baby” I got on all fours on the bed and faced my heat against his dick as he didn’t waste any time in ramming into me hard which made me yelp in pleasure. My groans got louder as his fingers went down to my clit and he rubbed hard as he was stretching me. His groans got louder as he was coming to his release. “Fuck Y/N you love my cock ramming up into you don you baby girl” His load blew up inside me as I came undone, both riding out each others orgasms. We stilled for a moment after until we got out breathes back, and rolled over to lie down of the bed. “Wow” I sighed as i was panting, I looked over at him looking back at me. His stare was endearing, it made me feel like the only girl in the world, his girl. “I miss you, I missed this” “I missed it too Harry, I love you” I pulled myself up to give him a sweet peck, then slowly resting my head on his chest. “I love you Y/N” As we started to dose off, I starting thinking about him, us, this is the real thing. I love him so much. No matter where I am, with Harry there with me, I’m home. While me and Harry slept together, we were woken by a large bang coming from the from door of the villa.  I looked up at Harry with confusion. “Who the hell is that?” He threw on his boxers and white shirt that was discarded from last night and made his way to the door. I quickly put on one of Harry’s shirts that was sitting in his bag and started to walk out of the bedroom. “Her?? Seriously??” I turned my glance to a brunette standing with her arms crossed with fury in her face staring at me then back at Harry. “Kendall what are you doing here?”

Thank you so much for reading this mini series, if you like it please let me know so I can continue on with this. I have so many different ideas for the next chapter, itle get better I promise haha, but I hope you enjoyed ! -K xx

[expressandadmirable]

RP Highlights: Collection IV (Mourning)

Morgan lets herself be folded into Lux's arms and sighs, her head falling into the crook of Lux's elbow. "Is that the basic setting for most people? Assume lies until proven otherwise?"

"It can be. It'll keep you alive. But it's also very lonely."

* * *

Morgan sighs. "I just wish I knew what damage needed repairing. The things I can see are easy.  You can't take people apart to find out what's wrong with them."

* * *

"I should have put up a different sign, huh?"

"What would you have put up instead? 'Gone to save the world'?"

* * *

Sol moves to stand close at the Tiefling's side, her hand moving from Aviva's shoulder to cradle the back of her neck as she pulls the other woman into her arms, lowering her cheek to Aviva's forehead and breathing slowly in. She says nothing, but after a few moments she shifts to press a gentle kiss to Aviva's temple.

It's as if Sol's kiss releases a pressure valve. Aviva slumps into Sol's arms and buries her face in the fabric at Sol's neck, wrapping her own arms around the Drow's torso. She weeps, silent but for the breath hitching in her throat, her whole form shuddering. After a minute or two, she calms somewhat, lifting her head and wiping her cheeks with the heel of her hand. She stops when she opens her eyes to look at where her face had been. "Oh. I left blood on your collar."

Sol holds her, tightly and silently, and closes her eyes as she feels Aviva's sobs against her chest. When the Tiefling draws back, she pulls off her gloves and tucks them away, the better to hold Aviva's cheek gently with one hand and sweep a slate-dark thumb lightly over the woman's split lip.

* * *

When Sol opens her eyes again, the corners of her mouth lose a little curve. "How are you feeling?"

Aviva sighs contemplatively, genuinely unsure how to answer the question. After running through a few options, she selects the bluntest one. "Honestly, I could go for a fuck." It's not an invitation, just a statement of fact. "Nothing like being sharply reminded of your own mortality to make you want to do something that lets you know you're still alive."

Sol huffs a short laugh, straightening a little but not drawing away. "Not once have I been able to guess what's about to come out of your mouth before you've said it."

* * *

After a moment Aviva snakes her arms around Sol and pulls her close again, quietly enjoying Sol being taller than her when she kneels instead of sits. A small whining sound escapes into Sol's armour. "I need a nap."

Sol enjoys it too, being able to rest her chin atop Aviva's head and smooth her hand over the tense join of neck and shoulders. Her thumb brushes the nape of Aviva's neck beneath her vivid hair, and just for a moment she closes her eyes. "A nap I can promise you." She falls silent, if only to savour the sound of Aviva's breath against her.

* * *

Wil settles in beside Lux carefully, either trying to read the tone of the melody, or avoid the pain his body wishes to continuously remind him of. He's quiet for far longer than he's known for, almost nodding along with the music, before he finally opens his mouth. "Thank you."

"For what?" Lux looks up at him for a moment, eyebrow raised, before looking back at her strings.

"I'm not sure if everyone does it. ...Thanks you, that is. Or if maybe I just haven't." Wilhelm begins to rub away at the burnt edges of his sleeves, severely fraying them and losing far more material than he ever hopes to save. He frowns, and continues. "Somehow your voice always seems to bring us back."

Lux smiles slightly, her shoulders lifting in a small shrug. "I do what I can." She pauses. "But I appreciate you saying so."

* * *

Lux sighs sharply and palms the strings, stopping the music. "No, Wil, it's not fine. I'm not fine. I'm grieving and frightened and if one more person lies to me I will eat their tongue out of their godsdamned skull. I'm trying desperately not to lose hope and the only way I can do that is by believing in the people in this room. Is that what you wanted to hear? I'm not fine. I want to believe I'll be fine. I'm going to try my best to be fine. But no, right now I'm not fine."

"That's exactly what I wanted to hear, because considering your reaction to fire coming forth from your body that first time, you've a bad reaction to keeping things buried for so long." Wilhelm's gaze fixes on Lux, eyes narrowed.

* * *

Lux watches him for a long moment, adding the pieces together in her head. When she finally speaks, her voice is barely a whisper. "What happened to you, Wil?" She searches his profile, not entirely sure what to look for. Some indication of how he came to be the strange, damaged person sitting before her. "What's really going on in that head of yours?"

"I'm perfectly fine." Wil's words sound rehearsed, eyes fixed on some blur before him. He's not even entirely sure just what it is, he's just aware that his heart is pounding in a new and interesting way, but in a way that makes his body feel ice cold when combined with the words from Lux's mouth. "I'm here for every reason that the rest of you are."

"No you're not." It's not an accusation, just a statement.

* * *

Wilhelm's lip curls up in a sneer, "I'm not-- scared. Not of this connections thing. I just see no point in it. I can understand its usefulness, I can understand why peoples form communities and express feelings towards others, but I can't see it in my future when it hasn't been a building block in my past. I have spent the past twenty years in the same professional company, this isn't... a thing. For me." Finally, he turns to watch Lux. He watches her fingers on the lute, and the way her mouth moves when she's chewing over the words she wants to say. And he sighs, empty. "This isn't to mean I'm not loyal to any of you. I care in some way about each of you. Even that intimidating Orc is growing on me."

Lux keeps her eyes on him. "Please believe me when I say I understand. I've spent as long as I can remember carefully curating my life so nobody would miss me if I left. I could write a symphony on how to keep people away while still outwardly looking like a functioning member of society. You could use me as a case study in your next class. But... The very fact that you care in some way about each of us means you do see a point in connections. Somewhere in you, it feels right. And it may not be for you, but it's definitely scary for me."

* * *

Wil fixes a lopsided grin on his face. "Ah... Considering how many of us you speak to, and how many times I've seen you pick up the pieces, I don't think you'll have too many issues with connections. You're a glue keeping us together, it seems. You make us work. I know I'd miss you."

* * *

"I don't understand why you aren't blaming me." Wil leans back, hands pressed to the cold ground behind him. "He meant things to you. You mourned him, the same as Morgan. But to me, he was a blank spot who didn't seem to trust me, or the actions I took. I heard Thorncurl's word, and I should have known what was happening in that moment. I expect blame. I don't understand why I'm not receiving it. It's a new experience."

It takes Lux a moment to comprehend. "You... blame yourself for his death? Why? There was nothing you could have done. There was nothing any of us could have done. Was there?"

"I'm certain I could have done something. If I'd-- ah, I don't know, I could have hexed him, I could have insulted him, I could have done anything to keep it from happening. I'm certain I could have." The frustration builds in Wilhelm's voice even as he tries to keep a calm composure, the mix bringing his breathing to an anxious pitch. "I could have held him and stopped this entire situation from happening. I did nothing, I made it worse. Like I do."

Lux's smile is almost sad. "You can go over it in your head as much as you like, play through every What-If you can possibly think of, but all it will do is drive you mad. It happened too fast. Thorncurl -- or whatever he was -- had it planned. There was nothing we could have done. We avenged him, and that has to be enough."

"I could have been faster than him. I'm certain of it."

* * *

"If I fail, I don't do it again. There's no reason to continue doing something if all it leads to is... disappointment."

"But that disappointment still sits in you. That doesn't seem like the healthiest way to absorb lessons." Lux offers a sympathetic half-smile, her music soothing.

"No, but it serves as a reminder of what not to do. I can keep it in there, and just... ah... know to avoid what caused it in the first place. It's a learning experience." Wil shakes his head slowly, closing his eyes. "I suppose it would be like what would happen if one had a bad relationship. They'd still know the signs, and avoid future engagements like those prior engagements."

Lux scoffs. "The mortal heart is far too complicated to actually take its own good advice. You'd be surprised how many mistakes you can repeat."

* * *

Wil waves his hand, as though to clear away their previous conversations. "I don't allow the failures to consume me. I know what I want, and I know to take the most direct path towards it, and nothing will stop me. Just... make me have to stop and focus."

Lux watches his face as he covers his tracks. "And what is it you want?"

Caught up in a line of remarkably clear truth, Wil says an Elvish fuck word under his breath. "...Ah. Well. I just want us to wake the Seer. That is my ultimate goal here. And then I'll see what's next."

"Mm." Lux strums the open strings of the lute as she fishes in her pouch for her cigarette box with her other hand. "Maybe someday you'll even tell me."

"Maybe someday I'll even know myself."

Lux lets out a light laugh. "Maybe." She places a cigarette between her lips and flicks the edge of the tinderbox with her thumbnail.

"And when that day comes, I promise you'll be the first to know." Wil glances at her cigarette, mouth opened for a question before closing with a snap. He'll just enjoy the sweet smoke for a while and sort out the emotions playing havoc in his head.

Lux raises an eyebrow and glances sidelong at Wil as she blows a smoke ring. "I'm gonna hold you to that."

* * *

Aviva nods to the tin of burn salve. "Shouldn't wait too much longer to apply that. Too many facial scars and you won't look like you anymore."

Sol tips her head back against the cold stone of the column, the side of her mouth that Aviva can see curling up just a little. "I like Grummer's look. I thought I'd give it a try."

Aviva returns the smile with a look that's a little bit joking, little bit pleading. "Please keep both your eyes. You need those. And I like them."

* * *

Sol opens her eyes just a little, enough for Aviva to track her glance across the room. "Did the boy put you through the ringer again?"

Aviva laughs ruefully and leans her head back against the column to give a beleaguered look to the heavens. "I wish I could say I learned my lesson. But I learned some interesting things about him, at least. Which I guess is the best I can hope for half the time. To unravel some of his damage."

"One day we'll need talking to him to not be best likened to getting blood from a stone." Sol's palm slides absently up Aviva's shoulder, just high enough to toy with the tips of her vivid hair. "No more secrets." She says it with a strange resolve.

"Wishful thinking, but I'll keep on wishing."

Sol turns her head to smile softly and meet Aviva's eye. "It's got to start somewhere."

* * *

"We'll need to go soon. Are you ready?"

Aviva follows Sol's gaze. "I think so. I'm not excited to be exposed out there, but it doesn't reek of death and ancient evil as it does down here." She looks back at Sol as she plays. "And maybe there will be flowers."

Sol's smile grows just for a moment at that, the tip of a finger just brushing the bare skin of Aviva's neck before her hand retreats. "Maybe we'll be so lucky."

Aviva's head tilts just slightly toward Sol, as if it's protesting the withdrawal of her hand. "I'll just be happy to see sky."

Aviva isn't left protesting long, Sol's hand finding hers and gently stilling it on the strings of the lute, ending the song. She nods. "For the first time in my life, so will I."

(These snippets are all part of one long scene that took place during a rest, which I think is pretty cool. Lux's text and minor edits by me, Sol’s text by @b-e-m-l-t, Wilhelm’s text by @biasanduntrue, Morgan’s text by @stufflaalikes)

[ravenvsfox]

86 and andreil??

86: “Perhaps you’ll take me out one day — or do I have to make an appointment?” (I combined this with a prompt from foxpaws10 from ages ago based on this post, and I kind of warped both of your prompts i hope this is still okaaay basically it’s doctor andrew and that’s all u need to know)

His morning is a string of disasters that begins with covering the ER in the Sunday rush of hypochondriac elderly and fussy children. It’s one long stretch of kicked over paint buckets, a mess you can’t ignore, splattering the walls and getting on his shoes.

Andrew chose surgery almost entirely for the distance of it, the sterility of a room with a slab of meat, a tray of knives, and a sickness he can actually cut out.

He’s a doctor because he can be, and patients sometimes like that he doesn’t speak a word to them, like silence equals genius.

He likes that there are some patients that come into the ER unconscious and leave the OR unconscious, and all he has is a problem and a ticking clock. He always solves the problem. He thinks maybe it’s because he is one.

The sinking ship of his Sunday in the emergency room goes from slippery to debilitating with one patient.

Two showy ER doctors with their lab coats off and their sleeves rolled up go into the private room they’ve cordoned off, and they both come out looking pinched in the face with their stethoscopes clenched in their fists.

“He’s a fucking disaster,” one of them says, leaning up against the information desk with his eyes still pulling back to the closed door of the room.

“I know. I thought, I dunno. That the news was exaggerating.”

Andrew tilts his head and listens without making any move to leave his post, filling out inane charts as illegibly as he can.

One of the residents chances a look at him and Andrew makes a point of catching him. The guy startles, then juts his chin.

“Maybe you’ll get along with him, Minyard. He’s as crazy as you.”

“You’ve mistaken the hospital for a playground,” Andrew says mildly. “Give me his chart.”

“What?”

“His chart.”

He looks at his friend, mouth slack, and then the one holding the chart holds it out like a dirty rag.

“He’s Boston’s starting striker,” he stage whispers. Andrew takes the clipboard and ignores him, scanning the details. “We’re not supposed to let any patients know.”

“That Neil Josten is causing a scene ten feet away from them?” he says, and the men titter uncomfortably. “Why should he get the luxury of privacy?”

“How did you—“

“The news is available to everyone, Bryant, you fuck.” He rounds the desk and makes for the closed and shuttered room, dropping the chart in the receptacle outside.

“He shouldn’t be allowed to practice,” someone says behind him, and then someone else, softer, scornful: “surgeons”.

Andrew wrings the door knob and finds himself abruptly face to face with the singular most swollen person he’s ever seen. He’s obviously bolting for it, his gown gaping at the neck and someone’s stolen shoes jammed on. Andrew scans the defiant face, the shock of red hair, the near invisible trail of blood from an incorrectly removed IV.

“Sit down.”

“No.”

Andrew watches Neil Josten— and it is him, one of the handful of strikers on Boston’s team and certainly the most newsworthy — size him up. His eyes run the same circuit Andrew’s would if he were looking to fight his way out: door, threat, surreptitiously behind him for a weapon, back again.

“I’ll drug you,” Andrew says simply. Neil’s good eye, the one that isn’t purpling, goes narrow.

“Are you allowed to say that?”

“‘Allowed’ is relative.”

“You mean you don’t do what you’re told,” Neil says, smiling sort of grotesquely with one side of his face rebelling against the other.

“I meant what I said,” he says, bored. “Are you done arguing?”

“Not really,” Neil says.

“Okay,” Andrew replies simply, and leaves the room.

He walks coolly back to the catch-all desk he was doing charting at and sits. Eyes swarm.

He’s flipping open the nearest file when the door across the room opens.

Neil walks out and about four staff swoop to intercept him, but he’s not running anymore. He points at Andrew. “Bring him back in here and don’t even think about touching me, and I’ll cooperate.”

Andrew regards him evenly, something darkly interested buzzing in his fingers. He stands, slowly, watching Neil’s uneven shoulders and his slouchy stance. He’s favouring his left side, and Andrew can spot the cracked rib from here, can clock the grit in Neil’s teeth a mile away.

“Sit,” Andrew says, “down.”

Neil frowns, turns, and disappears into the room. The ER is as quiet as it’s ever been in the face of the scene they’re creating. Andrew crosses the stretch of the main floor back to the exam room, the silence bolstering his weird, twitchy anticipation.

Neil is sitting almost cross-legged on the bed when he gets there, and Andrew gives him a look.

“You shouldn’t be bending your knee.”

“How would you know?” He seems like he’s genuinely asking.

Andrew doesn’t reply, just walks to the bedside and studies his newly bare feet awkwardly tucked into the cradle of his purpling kneecap.

“It’s bad,” Andrew says. Neil nods, unfazed. Used to it, Andrew’s mind supplies. He can see the warp of an older scar scrabbling for a place under his disaster of an eye.

“Will I be able to play?”

Andrew looks up into his intensely focused eyes, then lets his gaze drift away again. “Ever?”

“Soon,” Neil corrects, impatient.

“No.” He tugs Neil’s leg out from underneath him and listens to his intake of breath. “Not that it matters.”

“What?” Neil asks, genuinely alarmed.

“Exy is lacrosse and hockey’s bastard, without any of their finesse.”

“Oh fuck you. If you want to fight—” he starts, and Andrew jerks Neil’s leg back into its socket.

Neil yells, and then swallows it so suddenly that it sounds like someone’s paused him. Andrew looks sharply at him, noting the strain of his jaw, the cap on his own reaction, too instinctive to be anything but practiced.

“What the fuck,” Neil hisses. “You can’t insult my career and then break my fucking leg.”

“I can,” Andrew says. “I didn’t. Your leg is fixed.”

“Did you go to medical school?” Neil asks. “Or is provoking your patients self taught?”

“Yes,” Andrew replies. Neil huffs and Andrew reaches for the tie of his gown. Neil goes instantly stiff under his reaching hand. Andrew’s stomach rips, an overfull grocery bag.

“Yes or no?”

Neil looks up at him with his one glacial eye, mouth set in a straight line. “Yes,” he answers warily, tense but tolerant. Andrew sits with the intimacy of that interaction for a beat, and then he peels Neil’s gown down to his waist.

Neil stiffens, and Andrew knows he’s meant to react to the battlefield on his body but he stays silent. The bruising gets bad on his right side, and the thatch of old and new injuries is almost impossible to figure out, like a magic eye illusion.

He feels along Neil’s ribs. This is usually where an ER doctor would ask the patient to ‘tell me where it hurts’ but Andrew’s never needed to be told. He can tell the second Neil hurts and represses it, stomach jumping.

“Your rib is cracked.”

“I know,” Neil grits.

Andrew finds another tender spot, the focal point of a bruise, and he takes his hands away. He can’t remember seeing a sports injury being so full-body. He looks up to find Neil frowning at him.

“What did this?”

Neil swallows and eases himself back into the pillows. “I play Exy for a living.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

They stare at each other, the buzz of equipment all around them. There’s a physical imbalance in neil being half naked while Andrew’s clothed, incapacitated versus healthy, sitting versus standing, and it lodges between them.

“I’m walking out of here,” Neil says finally. “If there’s nothing else.”

Andrew slips a prescription pad out of his pocket and scribbles down a string of medications and instructions. Neil’s face is blank with confusion when he takes the paper.

“Enough refills to get you through the next three months.”

“I’m not planning on losing any more fights,” Neil says, and shoves the paper back at Andrew, who lets it flutter to the floor.

“But you’re planning on starting them,” he replies, not really a question. Neil doesn’t argue, and it rings in his ears like a victory.

Andrew walks out of the exam room and only realizes how completely engaged he’d been in Neil when his regular static creeps back in.

He works through the ER restlessly, catching Neil at the desk with discharge papers five minutes later and ignoring the eyes on him.

He sweeps back into the abandoned exam room when Neil Josten is safely out in the parking lot, finding the sheets still mussed and the prescription gone from the floor. A shiver goes through him, the severance between him and his patients slipping completely through his fingers.

____

He watches Boston’s next game (as follow up, he tells himself). He tracks Neil’s form and his natural gait, the way injury sits in his back pocket as if it’s completely separate from his presence in the game.

He plays hard, and physically pushes the cameras away when they try to capture his post-game flush, his ugly blue bruises. Andrew wonders if he’s taking the pills. He wonders if exy gear holds Neil together the way Andrew’s armbands do. He wonders who’s punching Neil’s face.

Neil comes into the hospital twice more in the next month.

Andrew’s obligated to call someone at this point, Neil is a battered husband or a gang member or a psychopath to the people in this hospital, to the eyes that narrow and pity every time Neil hobbles in. They widen back up when Andrew starts descending from the OR to drag Neil off to exam rooms.

He does it because Neil starts throwing punches if the ER docs try to touch him. Because the sight of him scares the people in the waiting room. Not because Andrew doesn’t trust anyone else’s hands on Neil. Not because he likes the way Neil mouths off and lets Andrew practice medicine that doesn’t spare feelings.

This time, Neil’s already lost in a jumble of pillows and a haze of morphine when Andrew hears that he’s in the hospital. Andrew takes the chart right out of a nurse’s hands.

“He’s mine,” he says simply, and she sputters and frowns and leaves.

“You’re starting to eat up my time,” Andrew says to Neil, who’s head lolls and mouth strains like the overextended strings of an instrument.

“I’m a vacation for you,” Neil says. “You stop pretending not to give a shit when I’m here.”

Andrew stops, page sliding between his fingers. “Funny, I don’t see head trauma on your chart.”

“I’m right,” Neil says. “There’s something behind your eyes.”

“You’re high,” Andrew corrects.

“When are we going to—“ Neil breaks off into a fit of coughing, both hands struggling out of the blankets so he can hold his quaking chest. Andrew moves in instinctively.

“You need to breathe.”

“Glad medical school taught you something,” Neil wheezes.

Andrew lowers the bed so that he can reach over Neil and take one pillow out from under his head, easing the stress on his ribs a little. He frowns at a gash leading down Neil’s collar, and grabs a suture kit from the shelves along the wall.

Andrew snaps on gloves and preps Neil’s collarbone after a cursory ‘yes or no’. His restraint breaks in half about halfway through stitching Neil’s skin closed. “Stop letting them do this to you.”

Neil’s whole face changes. He looks suddenly younger, a kid who’s been called out in class. “I made a deal,” he says, and Andrew waits. “I can’t break it.”

“Then make a better one.”

Neil breathes out through his nose, tilting his head back. “I’m fine. I just have to keep winning.”

And Andrew doesn’t understand the situation beyond rumours he’s heard about Kevin Day and a warped system pulsing under the surface of Exy, but he knows what survival looks like. Neil is what survival looks like. “This isn’t winning.”

Neil twitches a sad smile. “It’s not dying.”

Andrew’s temper pitches at how blasé he sounds, like he doesn’t care if he gets better or not. “Get out of my hospital.”

Neil laughs, infuriatingly, pretty eyes clashing with his crooked, cruel smile and his shattered glass cheek.

“Take me out,” he challenges, the innuendo understated but there, a rock upsetting a creek. Andrew’s nerves kick and scream. “Or am I ‘eating up your time’? Do I have to make an appointment?”

“This is an emergency room,” Andrew says flatly. “Do whatever you want.” Neil smiles wryly, then starts to struggle upright.

“I’ll be back eventually,” he warns. “Get me my trusty AMA forms.”

“No,” Andrew says, and grabs Neil’s phone off the side table. He thumbs his contacts open and enters his own number in. “You call me next time. Preferably before whoever’s beating you up undoes my work.”

Neil looks stupidly caught of guard. “Why do you care?”

Andrew blinks. “You’re my problem.”

“You looking for something to solve?” Neil asks.

“Don’t flatter yourself. I’ve already solved you.”

Neil searches his face and something in his eyes thaws. “I’ll be back,” he repeats. “You’re a good doctor.”

“You are a terrible patient,” Andrew replies, gritting his teeth when Neil struggles into pants and winces with his whole body.

“I’ve been told.”

“Call that number,” Andrew says.

“I’ve been told that too.” Neil pulls his t-shirt on next, and shoulders his bag onto his good side. “I will.”

He limps to the door and turns with his hand on the frame, squinting down at his phone screen. “Andrew?” He looks up. “Thank you. For the honesty. And the stitches.” He doesn’t wait around for a reply, just disappears from the doorway and out towards the front desk. Andrew finds himself looking at the indent Neil left in the pillows for a long time.

The next time Neil comes in he’s unharmed, and he asks for Andrew by name.