#but it’s not like he wouldn’t have died if he’d panicked and done nothing so

[hed-romancer]

so I’m moving across the country on Monday. To a place I’ve never even visited, where i know no one. the only things keeping me somewhat calm are (a) i did this exact same shit last year, except last year i didn’t have a job at all and this year my job is letting me transfer, so i know what my income will be and (b) focusing on the small things. how will i organize my refrigerator? where can i see free music? what kind of lighting should i buy?

but yeah. people keep asking me if I’m excited and no. I’m either terrified or i feel nothing at all

[yandere-daydreams]

Title: Home.

Pairing: Yandere!Miguel O'Hara x Reader (Spiderverse).

Word Count: 3.0k.

TW: Spiderverse Spoilers, Non///Con, Kidnapping, Prolonged Imprisonment, Nonconsensual Touching, Emotional Manipulation, Unhealthy Relationships, and Blood.

A Spiritual Continuation To This Drabble.

You were probably starting to blister.

It was hard to tell. Your body felt strange, your head filled with cotton and your thoughts still blurred into one foggy, vaguely panicked haze. You were numb, and aching, and wide awake, and waiting for the moment you could lie down on a cold, hard surface and curl up until you felt like yourself, again. That man – Miguel, you reminded yourself, the desperation in his voice as he’d muttered it to you still echoing in your mind – said it was a side-effect of traveling between dimensions, that you’d be fine as long as you didn’t mess with the ring of metal around your wrist, but you couldn’t seem to tightness in your throat, couldn’t seem to forget the glimpse of a bruising puncture mark you’d caught before forcing yourself to turn away from the bathroom’s only mirror.

You’d lost track of how long you’d been there, slumped against the tiled wall of a stranger’s shower stall, trying to make sense of what little you’d learned. It had to have been an hour, if not more, but the water was still as hot as it had been when you’d half-consciously gotten in, when you decided you could burn yourself out of this situation. A benefit of being dragged into the future against your will, you guessed. At least you’d never run out of hot water, while you were trapped here.

You sighed, letting your head lull forward, but you didn’t have much time to wallow in your self-pity. You heard the automated door slide open (there wasn’t a lock, you’d checked, and then checked again, and then checked again), and snapped up just in time to see Miguel stepping past the threshold, still wearing that strained, manic grin. It looked unnatural. If you hadn’t been so scared, if you didn’t already feel so vulnerable, you might’ve asked him to stop.

Reflectively, you scrambled for a towel before remembering that you weren’t in your own bathroom, that you weren’t even in your own dimension, and shrinking into yourself, doing what you could to hide yourself away from him without the aid of a proper barrier. “I— I’m not done, just give me—”

“Relax.” His tone was calm, but strict, only slightly muffled by the shirt he was already pulling over his head. You caught the edge of a jagged scar, an expanse of tan skin, before jerking away and training your eyes on the floor. “It’s nothing I haven’t seen before. We’re married, remember?”

He didn’t wait for an answer before stepping in front of you, momentarily cutting off your supply of scalding water. Unlike you, he seemed to want you to see him - standing just a little too close, holding himself just a little too tall, revealing just a little too much a little too quickly. You made a point of keeping your eyes on his face – or, as much as his face as you could see, anyway. The room you’d woken up in (his bedroom, you figured, despite how blank it’d been, how uncomfortable its bare walls and empty shelves had made you) had been dark, and his bathroom was no better. The lights had been dimmed to the point of near-total darkness, and you were starting to miss your apartment’s constantly flickering lights, your office’s blinding phosphorescents. You could only hope the rest of his dimension wouldn’t be so dark. You didn’t know what you would do if you had to spend the rest of your life stumbling around in the dark.

“We were married, you mean,” you mumbled, then shook your head. “Or, you were married to another version of me, I think? I’m sorry, I’m having a little trouble wrapping my head around…” You paused, gesturing to your meager surroundings. “…around this.”

His smile took on a softer lull. “In another world, a version of me was married to a version of you. When that version of me died, I did what I could to fill the gap. It didn’t work out, but…” A hand on your shoulder, then your jaw. You flinched at the unearned contact, but he didn’t pull away. “It was good, for a while. We had a daughter, Gabriella, and we took care of each other.”

You managed a weak laugh. “It’s hard to believe I’d take meeting my husband’s doppelganger that well.”

“Yeah, it is.”

There was a short lapse of silence. You chose to ignore the bluntness of his response, the bitter taste that spread over your tongue. “Maybe I’ll meet my own version of you when I get back home. It seems like we can’t stop running into each other.” And then, with more than a note of genuine excitement. “I will be able to go back to my own dimension, right? No offense, but I’m already starting to feel a little homesick.”

“Eventually. We’re looking for another solution as quickly as we can, but for now, it’s important that you stay where you are.” The pad of his thumb ran over your cheek. “Just your presence here is saving millions of lives.”

With no small amount of hesitation and a pained smile of your own, you reached up, taking him by the wrist and pushing his hand back down to his side. In his defense, he didn’t put up a fight. You could’ve missed the way his grin wavered, the carnal shade of scarlet that flashed across his eyes, if not for the way the shadows flickered at the slightest disturbance. “But I’ll be able to go home when you’re done?”

“Eventually,” he reiterated. “I’ll be taking care of you, in the meantime.”

Slowly, reluctantly, you nodded, letting out a shaky breath.

It wasn’t like there was anything else you could do, right?

~

You felt like you were going blind.

Miguel had been paranoid – making excuses, offering half-baked explanations, changing the topic every time you found the confidence to push – but even he couldn’t keep you in his dark, empty bedroom forever, lest you grow bored enough to throw the fate of the multi-verse aside and start messing with the bolt of silver latched onto your wrist. You could see why he’d wanted to keep you locked up. The rest of his society (organization? foundation? glorified playground for anyone with a spider-aesthetic and a seemingly endless supply of bad one-liners?), unlike its founder, was a beacon of color and noise, of friendly faces and helpful people. You could see why it might’ve made the thought of going home that much more difficult, for someone who’d had a much gentler introduction to it than you.

You could see how it made the time you spent alone with Miguel seem that much darker, in comparison.

Currently, you were in a room you’d once heard one of the more brash Peter Parkers’ refer to as ‘Miguel’s Cave’ – the makeshift lab where he spent most of his time leering over holographic screens and growling at constantly malfunctioning technology you couldn’t so much as pretend to understand, sitting cross-legged next to a collection of well-beaten consoles, squinting at a book you could hardly make out in the dim light. You didn’t know much about him or his society, every detail pried out through either sheer force of will or gleaned from a combination of different half-explanations, but he seemed to be the default leader, the one responsible for making sure this operation didn’t fall apart at the seams. He was stressed, obviously, but you couldn’t seem to find it in yourself to feel bad for him, not when every new setback led to a new hole in the wall, another chair broken over his knee (hence why you were sitting on the floor). It was hard to feel pity for a man who could snap your neck with a flick of his wrist, no matter how often he promised he wasn’t going to hurt you.

When your vision started to blur and the knot of tension in the back of your skull turned from uncomfortable to aching, you let your attention drift to his constantly revolving screens, all showing another incomprehensible piece of another incomprehensible dimension. For a moment, your gaze caught on a scene that seemed out of place, featuring a girl no older than ten running happily toward whoever was holding the camera, but you moved on quickly. You’d already seen a few preteen spider-people, around the society. You wouldn’t be surprised if Miguel had a way of watching them after they’d returned to their own dimensions.

Your eyes fell on Miguel, next. He was in the state he seemed to revert to whenever he thought your back was turned – shoulders squared, eyes set into a stern glare, the points of his fangs just barely visible against his bottom lip. He looked angry, but then again, he always looked a little angry. You could only assume that whatever spider he’d gotten his powers from didn’t have a sense of humor, either.

Eventually, he glanced in your direction, his scowl immediately fading. You didn’t try to look away. You caught him staring at you often enough. If you were lucky, he’d realize how awful it could feel to know you were always being watched. “Need something?”

You shrugged, letting your head lull to the side. “Just wondering if you’ve made any progress.”

“Depends on what you want to call ‘progress’. Technically, we’re bringing in another dozen requites every day, but I don’t see the point in handing a watch to every—”

“Progress in my case, I mean,” you cut in, trying to keep your tone light. “Not that I don’t like it here! I’m just… a little anxious to get home, I guess. I’d just like to be able to check in – preferably without the multi-verse collapsing.”

It was quick, but you caught it. A quirk of his lips, a glint of annoyance quickly drowned out by schooled stoicism. He didn’t like it when you brought up leaving, but then again, he didn’t seem to like anything.

Rather than answer you, he sighed, pushing himself away from his consoles. He gestured for you to stand and, somewhat reluctantly, you pushed yourself to your feet, taking a tentative step close to him before a strong arm lashed out, wrapping around your waist and hauling you into his lap. You chuckled, shoving playfully at his shoulder, but when he didn’t relent, you didn’t tell him to let you go. It was just a habit, you told yourself, doing your best to brush it off. It was just a holdover from a past life, from the time he spent with another version of you. It was the least you could do to let him live out a few old, relatively innocent fantasies.

He moved to touch your cheek, but managed to hold himself back, opting to toy with the fabric of your collar, instead. “Have you ever thought about kids?”

You did what you could not to look at him, but when he was so close, when he’d made himself such an unignorable part of your now-limited world, it was hard to find a way past him. “Not really, no. Never had the time for it, and I was never in the right place.”

“That’s how I felt, before I met you.” His lips against your forehead, then the curve of your jaw. It was just a habit, you reminded yourself, more forcefully than you really had to. He wasn’t trying to make you this uncomfortable. “I never thought I’d stay up until sunrise icing cupcakes for a third grader’s birthday party either, but you made me want that kind of life. I would’ve gone to a million soccer games just to see you and Gabriella smile like that again. To me, you were always home.”

“Your version of me, you mean.” This time, you couldn’t make yourself sound anything but irritated. “You might’ve changed your mind, but I’m really not the little league type.”

You heard him mutter something in Spanish, low and throaty and entirely incomprehensible to you. There was sharp nip to the curve of your throat, a broad chest pressed against yours, and then, he was kissing you, his mouth crashing into yours before you could even try to protest. You tried to scream, to pull his hair and pry him off of you, but he only groaned in response, only forced himself closer – his tongue forcing its way past your and his hand wrapping around your neck as you thrashed against him. Frantically, desperate to just get him away from you, you lashed out blindly, racking your nails across his check with enough force to break the skin, to draw blood. That earned a reaction, but not the one you were looking for. Rather than release you, his hold on your throat only grew tighter, his breathing more ragged he picked you up and slammed you against his console, a dozen golden screens shuttering under the force of the collision. It wasn’t a groan, now, but a growl, deep and throaty and wanting. His fangs pierced your lips, the taste of metal and rust spilling over your tongue as—

“Miguel.”

Finally, he tore himself away from you, baring his teeth at Jesse where she stood in the lab’s doorway. She didn’t flinch, only crossing her arms over her chest and meeting his aggression with a deadpan stare. “There’s a situation on Earth-241.”

Blunt, snipped, pointed. Miguel’s response was no better. “Why didn’t you have Lyla alert me?”

“She couldn’t. Apparently, she’s been ordered not to bother you when you’re with (Y/n).” Her attention drifted to you, panting and bleeding and still pinned underneath Miguel. Jesse stiffened, then went on. “You sure this is safe, man?”

“Trust me. I’ve run the simulations, done the math, taken all the necessary precautions. The canon won’t be affected.”

“The canon’s not what I’m worried about.”

She didn’t offer any further explanation, exiting as abruptly as she’d appeared. Miguel waited until she was out of sight, out of earshot before sighing and letting go of your neck. With no strength left to hold yourself up, you sank to the floor, fighting the urge to tremble, to shrink into yourself, to cry until you weren’t choking on the taste of your own blood. Miguel only sighed, running his fingers over the red lines you’d carved into his cheek before typing something into his watch. “I’ll be back in a few hours,” he said, a kaleidoscope of bursting color and blinding light spiraling into existence in front of him. A portal, one you’d see him disappear into a hundred times. A portal that could that you home, if you ever dredged up the courage to throw yourself into it. “Stay out of trouble until I get back.”

Blearily, as if in a daze, you watched from a distance as he stepped out of this dimension and into another, the portal spiraling shut a moment later. When he was gone and the lab had gone dark, you lowered yourself to the ground, curled into yourself, and shut your eyes, willing your heart to stop beating so quickly before it stopped beating altogether.

It was pathetic, but you couldn’t seem to think of anything else to do.

~

For the first time in as long as you could remember, you couldn’t feel anything at all.

You weren’t numb, because numbness would’ve meant there was still a tether between your mind and your body, a link between spirit and flesh. It didn’t feel like you were floating on air, or consumed by static, because it felt like nothing. The void was all-consuming, swallowing you whole and keeping you suspended in that space of unliving consciousness, awake but inactive, aware but unable to do anything more than lie there, breathe, and wait for it to be over. You felt nothing. You never wanted to feel anything again.

Except, Miguel’s venom wasn’t so merciful as to leave in that void permanently. You could already make out a bruising soreness in the side of your neck, the harsh sting of his nails burrowing into your thigh, the seating heat of his body against yours as he rutted into you like a wild animal, like a man crazed. Your body had been bent in on itself, your knees pressed into your chest and your ankles thrown over his shoulders – anything that might’ve stopped him from thrusting as deeply, as harshly as he wanted to forced and manhandled out of his way. Somewhere in the back of your mind, the words ‘mating press’ resurfaced, but you buried them as quickly as you could. You didn’t want to think about that. You didn’t want to think about anything.

But, you didn’t have a choice. He was talking again – in Spanish, at first, a breathy string of curses you’d picked up during your time with him, then your name, low and drawn out, distorted by low growls until it’d been reduced to a near-incoherent mantra that would only be broken when his breath hitched, catching as his cock twitched and throbbed inside of you. One of his hands fell away from your thigh, landing next to his head and supporting his weight as he brought himself that much closer to you, as his mouth found yours in a clumsy, messy kiss. You could taste your own blood on his tongue, his fangs. You could taste the venom that’d left you so vulnerable to him. It burnt more than it should’ve.

“Mi cielo.” The words were muffled, spoken against your as he fell lower – to your collarbone, struggling to speak between haphazard love-bites to your chest. “My love, my light, my—” A sharp breath, a violent thrust. “I love you. We— We’re going to be happy together, this time.”

It was all you could do to lift your head, to force your lips to move against the weight of his waning paralysis. Your voice was barely audible, cracked and fractured in all the worst ways, but it was clear. Even against the sound of his skin crashing against yours, against the screaming agony of your own violation, it was clear.

“Am… am I ever going home?”

For a moment, Miguel paused, his eyes flickering towards you.

Then, you felt him smile against your skin and, the first time, it didn’t seem quite so pained. “You are,” he muttered, straightening his back. “And you’re never leaving again.”

Then, without hesitation, without mercy, he drove his fangs into your throat. You tried, weakly but desperately, to dislodge him, to claw at his back, to dig your nails into whatever you could reach and tear, but it was futile. His venom was already in your blood, coursing through your veins, rendering you as helpless as you’d always felt, around him. Soon enough, your arms were limp and useless around where they’d been strung around his neck, and you were pulled back into that unmoving, unfeeling, uncaring state. You didn’t try to resist it, this time.

It wasn’t like there had ever been anything you could do to save yourself from Miguel, anyway.

[sushis-wild-imagination]

Meet the parents (Seungcheol x reader)

Seventeen masterlist <3

Meet the parents part 2

“No, its Shampoo and then washing your body so the shampoo sits in your hair”

You and Cheol, your boyfriend of a 5 months, have been in his apartment, quarrelling about the stupidest thing.

You were both in the kitchen trying to cook something for dinner. Your best and safest bet was pasta and that's exactly what he tried to make. Keyword: TRIED

An abrupt doorbell rang, and you jump.

"Coward" Seungcheol laughs at you as he walks to the door. You stick your tongue out at him.

You heard him open the door. “Mom?”

Mom?!

You run into your room, do a quick fit check, straighten out your clothes and fix your face. Try to make yourself look as presentable as possible in the fraction of a second you got.

You stepped out of cheols room to see his parents walk in the hallway.

Do I look okay? Is my hair tidy enough? Will they let me stay? Should I make an excuse and leave? Im panicking.

All these thoughts come to your head while his parents smile at you. You smile back and wave a little awkward wave.

“This is my girlfriend, y/n”

You were glad he introduced you like that, not that you doubted he wouldn’t, but it felt good to be introduced like that, especially to his parents.

“She’s pretty” the mom says putting her stuff on the couch. You immediately help her with her stuff, taking it off her hands. All you could focus on was to make a good impression.

This is not how you had pictured meeting the parents of the love of your life. Cheol was the best boyfriend youve had and youve even spoken about marriage with each other and it had barely been 5 months. When it’s your soulmate, you just know, and this was exactly that. You’ve seen many relationships go to shit because the girlfriend did not gel with the mother, and you were terrified of the possibility. She seems like a nice lady though.

——

“Do I look okay?” You whisper to your said love of your life, Choi seungcheol in the kitchen now.

“You look perfect, don’t worry” he whispered back.

“He’s cooking pasta? You will have to get your stomach checked later” his mother jokes walking into the kitchen.

“I’ve been getting better! (Y/n) is teaching me! I can do pasta” Seungcheol whines.

“Poor girl, don’t ruin her stomach” his mom teases. It makes you giggle.

“If water was burnable, he’d burn that too” she says as the conversation moves to the dinner table. His mom dissing him every chance she gets is hilarious to watch.

The pasta he made was finally done and brought to the dining table.

His father engaged in some small talk. You were grateful, you couldn’t stand the awkward silences. He asked you the basics, where do you work, how you like it.

“So, do you live together?” His mom shoots at you without warning.

“Pretty much” cheol answers for you to take the pressure off.

“This new way of living together first before getting married is a good trend, it’s easier to see if you’re compatible, that’s good” she comments on nothing specific. Your face is on fire.

Neither of you knew how to respond to that so the conversation died.

“What do you do?”

“Oh Im an AI researcher at University”

They definitely don’t know what that means so the conversation died for the second time, mostly because you were nervous.

His mom accidentally dropped her fork. The sound echoed in the apartment, it was that quiet.

“Mom wait, let me get your a new fork” cheol oddly insists and rushed to the kitchen.

“Y/n, where are the forks?” You hear his voice from the kitchen. It was his acting voice.

He knows where the forks are.

“I’ll help him” you say sheepishly smiling. You get up and go into the kitchen confused.

“How do you not know where the forks are in your own apartment?” His mom calls out from the dinning table.

He motions you to come over to him with just his hand like he has a secret to tell you.

Of course he knows where the forks are.

“What is it?” You whisper.

“They’re going on a cruise next month, ask them about it” he whispers back.

Your cutiepie, your conversation iron man had come in to rescue you from awkward silences. You peck him cheek and whisper a “thank you” becoming excited and running out front.

“I forgot where I had put them, she seems to know where my stuff is better than I do” cheol comes out behind you and hands his mom a new pair smiling foolishly.

He sure acts well.

After some more pauses, you gather the courage to bring up the cruise.

“Seungcheol had told me sometime ago that you are going on a cruise next month, are you excited?” You try to strike the conversation up again.

You see his mom’s expression change to pure joy. You could see the lady was excited.

“Yes! Its a 2 week cruise to the Mediterranean sea”

“Sounds exciting, have you been on other cruises?”

“Ever since retiring, thats all theyve been doing,” seungcheol adds.

“All for her, I wouldn’t be surprised if she buys a ship and leaves me behind here” his dad chimes in and chuckles.

“Oh sure, I’ll go to this next one with my son then, Im sure he wouldn’t mind” his mom says a little annoyed.

“Don’t drag me into your fights”

“My aunt is in administration for one of the cruises, I can ask her for a discount on your package if you’d like” you say.

is that a bribe? Almost. Who doesn’t like discounts.

Luckily his mom’s eyes lit up.

“Maybe you guys can come with us next time as a family trip”

Family trip.

You never got family. You grew up in a broken home and did not particularly understand the dynamics of a working healthy happy family, like the one you’re seeing infront of you now.

Just imagining to be a part of this family was enough to bring you joy. All you hoped and wished that you would fit in well.

The rest of the night, his parents told us all about their cruise adventures and misadventures.

——

“How did I do?” You ask nervously, biting your bottom lip as he turns around after closing the door.

The parents had left, it was a good time, a little nerve wracking but a good time overall.

“You’re perfect” he says snaking his arms around your waist pulling you closer. “Im sorry they came in unannounced, if I knew I would’ve asked them not to”

“Are you kidding? They’re your parents, they’re legally allowed to come unannounced, I was just very nervous”

“Why?”

“I really love you, I don’t want your parents to hate me” you couldn’t stand the thought.

“They could never hate you, my love”

You sigh in relief.

“Although… her impression of you might change if you don’t get her that discount now” he teases.

“Oh I will get her that discount alright, even if I have to scale the earth twice”

He giggles at your determination.

——

Do you want the cruise interaction??? I have a thought starter, I’m so excited

Edit: HERES PART 2

[attorney-ramblings]

Okay, I have a fic concept living rent free in my head.

Miles has been helping Phoenix deal with the aftermath of his disbarment since the beginning, he pulled every string and called in every favor he could, and still nothing could be done.

He tried to assure Wright that things would work out eventually, that they would prove he’d been tricked. Wright had adamantly refused to have Trucy testify on his behalf, to lay the blame on her. Miles disagreed with the decision but didn’t push him on it, she was only a child after all.

As time passes, Phoenix struggles to make ends meet. He needs to go out and get a job but he can’t just leave Trucy alone in the apartment for his long hours. Upon hearing this, Miles reluctantly offered to watch her. He had not intended it to become a regular occurrence.

Yet here he was, slowly coming to adore the sweet and spirited girl. She was well behaved, and all around delightful. Of course she was a child still and sometimes he found her getting herself into trouble around the Prosecutor’s Office, however he’d never needed to scold her about something more than once.

He was careful about where he took her, often avoiding having her ever come near a crime scene. Whenever he had to go out investigating he would have Detective Gumshoe watch her for the hour or so he needed to get what was necessary.

Other than those times the girl was right by her side at all times, she asked a lot of questions when they were alone, about what was happening in the case. It was an interesting exercise for him, trying to explain the case to a child, he spared her any of the more gruesome details of course. He wouldn’t be held responsible for traumatizing her.

However, trying to explain the complex motivations of the human psyche for crime in a easily digestible manner had actually been a relatively helpful exercise.

Other times when talking to witnesses, she was mostly quiet, but sometimes she even landed up being helpful. Sometimes noticing speech patterns and little ticks that he would’ve otherwise overlooked. She was also amazingly emotionally intelligent, she covered for an area he was weak in, comforting others.

He had more than once, left the room for a moment to grab something just to come back and find her sitting next to a witness, them tearing up and suddenly ready to talk.

It was honestly incredible to him, and he found himself hopelessly enamored by this precious little girl. Phoenix often complained about how he spoiled her rotten, but he frankly couldn’t care less. It was payment for helping him with his work.

It was a few months after this pattern had started, and Trucy was skipping along behind him as usual. He needed to speak to a detective, so he was down at the station. A particularly peculiar case had just been set into motion and he needed more information.

Trucy wasn’t the type to wander off on her own, that had been a strict rule he’d implemented when he’d started bringing her with him places. She’d always been good about it, only ever getting lost in the madness once.

When he looked around and saw she was nowhere to be seen, he panicked. They were in a police station, surely she was safe, she had to be.

Except, often Police stations are filled with nearly as many criminals as officers, who knew what might happen if one broke out of their handcuffs.

It didn’t take him terribly long to find her thankfully, he heard crying in the distance, when he followed the sound, it seemed to be the voice of a child. Down a hallway and into a conference room, that was when he finally caught sight of her again.

Miles nearly shouted, he was sorely tempted to scold her for scaring him like that. However the moment he processed what he was looking at, the words died on his lips.

Trucy was sitting next to another little girl, she seemed slightly older than her, but only by a year or two. She wore her bright auburn hair in a side pony and she was sobbing, hysterically panicking.

Miles was all too familiar with that particular kind of terror, he made eye contact with the officer in the room and gestured for them to come closer.

“Prosecutor Edgeworth, I was a little worried when I saw your girl walk in here alone, everything alright?” The officer asked, she was a middle aged woman who mostly worked filing and desk jobs. She was always in the precinct, so she often saw them here.

He nodded curtly, “She walked off on her own while I was taking care of something, I’ll have a talk with her. I’m just glad she didn’t leave the station.” He looked back over to the two girls, Trucy was hugging her from the seat beside the the auburn haired girl. Trucy had given the girl her cape to wrap around her for comfort, and she was clutching it tightly and mumbling to herself softly.

He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “She always seems to know when someone’s upset, makes it hard to be angry with her.” He crossed his arms and leaned against the wall for a moment. “Who’s the other girl?”

“Athena Cykes, the daughter of that astronaut that got murdered by the prosecutor. Surely you’ve heard about it… we don’t really know what to do with her. She has distant relatives from Europe we’re attempting to contact, but there’s some sort of hang up in the communications. It’s taking longer that we expected it to.” She sighed. “She’ll probably have to stay at the precinct tonight, I already offered to keep an eye on her. Poor thing.”

Miles did know the case, in fact it was the one he had just been assigned. Prosecutor Simon Blackquill confessed to the murder of Metis Cykes, the girl being the daughter of the victim.

Trucy finally seemed to realize his presence there and jumped in her seat, she scampered over to him and hugged his leg. “Uncle Miles! I’m sorry, I know you don’t like it when I run off, you just looked busy and I wanted to help her…”. She spoke softly for a child, clearly trying to be mindful of the young Miss Cykes.

“Miss, is ‘Thena really going to have to stay here overnight?” She asked the officer, looking deeply concerned.

“Sorry Lil Missy, that’s the way it has to be. She hasn’t got anywhere else to stay. Protocol would have us looking after her until she’s either put under the care of extended family or the foster system.” She explained, and Trucy glanced over her shoulder at the girl again. She had quieted down a little after Trucy gave her cape to the girl. When her gaze returned to Miles there were tears in her eyes.

“It’s so loud here though! ‘Thena has really sensitive ears, she usually wears these headphones when she goes out in public that her momma made for her. If she doesn’t then she gets overwhelmed really easily, and she doesn’t have them! She doesn’t even go to school at all because of it, even with the headphones.” Trucy had her fists at her sides and her mouth pressed in a determined line, tears streaming down her cheeks. “She can’t stay here Uncle Miles!”

The officer blinked, “She told you all that?”

Trucy nodded emphatically. It didn’t surprise Miles in the least… he looked over to the quiet trembling girl. He couldn’t help but see himself in her, traumatized, alone, having all of his decisions made for him by adults he didn’t know or trust. If what Trucy was saying is true, then.

He sighed.

“Trucy, stay with her. I’m going to see what I can do.”

[thebibutterflyao3]

Day Twenty-Seven - Prompt: Anticipation @rosekiller-microfic

March Daily Series - 531 words

TW: Reference to suicide

<<<Previous Part OR Start Here

Evan awoke to two terrible truths and one lucky break. One, he had a massive hangover. Two, he’d unblocked Barty’s number on his phone and his profile on social media. Three, Barty didn’t answer the thirty or so attempts Evan made at contacting him last night.

He groaned miserably and tossed his mobile across the bed. Evan didn’t feel all that lucky at the moment. Instead of waking up to a cool glass of water and a bottle of paracetamol on his nightstand, he found one of his sister’s bazillion hair clips that he must have stolen at some point in the evening.

Clean slate indeed. How is this better? Now I have nothing.

His thoughts swirled through his mind randomly as if they were racing toward an arbitrary finish line. He waited for them to settle while he traced the hexagon patterns on his quilt. Over and over, side, angle, side, angle, until he died.

That’s where this is headed. Well done.

“Oh lovely, my brain is mean today too,” he grumbled.

His phone lit up and vibrated wildly well out of reach. Annoyed, Evan clawed the quilt toward him until the mobile was close enough, then snatched it up. He squinted at the screen.

Notification, not a call. Damn it.

“Find My IPhone activated?” he read aloud. “What the fuck? It’s in my hand. What are you on about, phone?”

He tapped the notification and stared at the screen in confused anticipation as it loaded a map. It took far too long to realise that by unblocking Barty’s number, he’d reactivated their linked settings. The settings that Barty used to find Evan’s phone every time he lost it, which was often.

“Barty’s phone is in the River Severn? That doesn’t make any—” Evan cut himself off and blinked at the screen. “No. He wouldn’t do that. I just saw him yesterday. There’s no way that he would…”

An image of Barty’s panicked face flicked through his head. The sudden urgency of his desire to fill in all of his tattoos and the piercing he never had the guts to get done, as if he was finishing a list. As in, a bucket list.

“Shite!” Evan rolled off of his bed and grabbed his shoes. He was never more thankful for falling asleep fully dressed. “You better not, you twat!”

He tapped wildly at his screen, trying to find Frank’s number. If anyone would know where Barty is, it’s Frank.

Flatmates kept track of each other, right?

His text was answered almost instantly. Frank hadn’t seen Barty since yesterday. That was not good.

Who else? Barty’s friends are all…my friends.

That’s when it registered for the very first time. Barty didn’t have friends. He had exes, a snarky flatmate, and an abusive father, but his friends were rather sparse. Or, potentially nonexistent.

“I don’t know where to start,” he said, hands trembling as he fumbled his phone. “I was all he had and I didn’t even realise. I didn’t know.”

Evan swiped angrily at the tears streaming down his cheeks. He wasn’t giving up until he knew for sure. His Barty wouldn’t leave him. Not like that.

Not now, not ever.

Next Part>>>

[separatist-apologist]

Is There A Word For Bad Miracle?

Summary: What if I told you none of it was accidental, and the first night that you saw me, nothing was going to stop me?

OR

That time Rhys stumbled on Feyre committing a murder and decided he had to have her

Read On AO3

In retrospect, Feyre would never know why this time was different. When her boyfriend lifted his hand and struck her, sending her crashing to the floor, she didn’t know why it filled her with rage instead of fear. Or why she picked up that vase filled with half-dead roses and slammed it over his head.

Feyre had just reacted. It was pure anger—Tamlin bruised her face so she couldn’t attend her art show the next night and was forced to stay in, all because he wanted her with him and no one else. He’d done it so many times, had ignored her pleas for him to see a therapist about his anger and the trauma he’d endured by a former lover instead of venting his rage on her. 

She suspected the control made him feel safe.

She didn’t feel safe. Didn’t that matter? He never heard her, and followed her when she left until she broke down and took him back, Over and over, until Feyre was a joke to her friends, her family. No one believed her when she said this was the last time.

They didn’t care when she left him. 

The vase smashed against that sunlit blonde hair, catching him off guard. Tamlin was a big man—it took a lot to surprise him. He stumbled, pitching forward. He smashed his face against the fireplace mantle with a sickening crunch before crumpling to the ground. Feyre didn’t move, panting for air.

Blood pooled around his face, and still Tamlin didn’t get up. They were silent for a multitude of heartbeats.

“Tam?” she whispered as cold slithered down her spine. He didn’t respond. Feyre crept closer and closer, pushing aside strands of his hair to look at him. With shaking hands, she pressed her fingers to his neck, trying to find a pulse. 

“Fuck,” she whispered. “Oh—fuck.”

Feyre stepped away from him, scrambling for her phone before she remembered it was in his pocket. She wasn’t allowed unrestricted access to it, given how he felt she abused her privilege and talked badly about him. He was determined to control everything about her—even her thoughts. 

Feyre fished it out of his back pocket before laughing. Who was she going to text? Lucien? Nesta? And say what?

Hey–I murdered my boyfriend, can you help me clean up my fireplace? 

No, Feyre couldn’t involve them in this. She should call the police and tell them what happened. They’d see the bruises and they’d…put her in jail because she’d still killed someone. And what was wrong with her that her first thought was cleaning up the evidence instead of guilt—remorse? 

But Feyre knew, as she looked down at him, that eventually one of them was going to die. She’d known it every time he’d struck her, every time his fingers had curled around her throat in anger that one day he wouldn’t stop in time. This felt inevitable and in some ways, she’d made her peace with it long ago.

To be fair, she’d always assumed their roles reversed. 

Feyre didn’t know what her plan was. She was moving on autopilot. Leaving her phone on the coffee table, Feyre fished out anything identifying from his jeans before reaching for his ankle. She’d just…drag him, she thought. 

She hadn’t realized just how heavy Tamlin was. By the time Feyre got to the front door she was drenched in sweat and she’d left a bloody trail in her wake. She wanted to scream. What was she supposed to do? Burn down her house? Which was worse? She could say she came home and the house was on fire from a lit candle and Tamlin panicked, smashed his head on the fireplace and died.

And she’d go to jail. 

Either way, Feyre was going to jail. The thought ought to have sobered her. Tamlin would get the last laugh from hell, containing her in a little cell just like he’d always wanted. So Feyre kept dragging him until she somehow managed to get Tamlin into the trunk of her car. She could practically hear the podcast that would be written about her and her many, many mistakes. 

Those who couldn’t do, started podcasts, or however the saying went. She drove in silence, winding her way through the city towards the one place she could be rid of a body. Velaris wasn’t devoid of crime, though it certainly liked to pretend it was. She’d seen all the articles about bodies washing up on the Sidra’s riverbank, of the suspicion people were being dumped from the docks. 

Let people think Tamlin had run afoul of the gangs. He certainly loved to gamble—maybe he’d racked up debt. Maybe he’d insulted someone. Feyre could play stupid, could rip up all the floors in her house and pull the carpet out of her trunk, too. Or she’d burn the house down, fake her own death, and start over in Toronto. 

A reasonable thing, she told herself as she pulled down the shadiest street she’d ever seen. With the glitter of downtown Velaris fully behind her, the warehouse district seemed…well, the exact sort of place you’d dump a body. Half the streetlights seemed to be broken and not one building had a full set of unbroken windows. 

It was here, inhaling the fishy scent of the docks, that reality began to creep in on Feyre. Was she really going to do this? Feyre forced herself out of her car, heart pounding. She was shrouded in darkness now, which made everything feel more ominous somehow.

Like she was being watched by a million surveillance cameras, broadcast live into everyone's homes. Feyre opened the trunk with shaking hands before backing up with a screech.

“You stupid bitch,” Tamlin slurred, stumbling from the trunk. He wasn’t dead and she’d fucked this whole things up. “What the fuck are you doing?”

“I—” Throwing you into the river seemed like the wrong response. How had her life come to this, she wondered? When had she become a monumental joke? Tamlin lurched, faster than she’d anticipated. Feyre didn’t move until they were both tumbling to the ground, his hands wrapped around her throat.

“Did you think you could kill me?” he asked, his face so close she could see his hatred burning in the dark. Feyre’s hand slid over the pavement, slicing over something sharp as she searched for anything to get him off her. Feyre was forced to reach for his fingers, trying desperately to pry them off her throat. She couldn’t breathe, and not being able to breathe always made her panic. 

“Hey!” a masculine voice yelled from somewhere in the dark. “What the fuck are you doing?”

Tamlin released her with surprise, turning to look at whoever had caught them. Feyre scrambled from beneath him and without considering that she now had an audience, grabbed a chunk of a broken cinder block and slammed it against Tamlin’s jaw. She might have screamed when she hit him—or maybe that was just the sound of her heart. 

Tamlin crumpled again, and this time Feyre didn’t stop. Straddling his chest, she hit him again, and again.

And again.

If he was alive, it was hardly a mercy. Feyre looked down at his bloodied, broken face just in time for the overhead street light to finally flicker on. Orange flooded through her vision, causing Feyre to blink. She turned, remembering she had an audience.

Standing over her, his face slack with what she assumed must be shock, was the most beautiful man she’d ever seen. 

She took a breath and wiped her bloodied face on the back of her hand. Waiting for his horror, for his panic as he dialed 911. 

“Did you…?” he asked, blinking eyes so blue they might have been violet. 

She didn’t respond, rising shakily to her feet. The thought of straddling Tamlin’s dead body suddenly made her sick. She didn’t want to look at him—she needed to be far, far away from all of this. 

“Wow,” he said, running a hand through hair so dark it blended in with the night around him. Licking full lips, he took a breath. “We need to get rid of this.”

Feyre hadn’t expected him to say that. “What?” she asked breathlessly.

“The body,” he said in that rich, sensual tone. “Weigh him down.”

“Are you—”

“You’ve made me your accomplice,” he said, as if this were the most normal thing in the world. “And no offense, but I’m not going to jail over a man who strangles women.”

Feyre’s fingers curled around her neck, thinking of how bruised she’d be in the morning. The man—tall, she thought, and casual in a pair of well-fitting jeans and a plain black t-shirt that showed off the tattooed curve of his collarbone and powerful biceps, walked around her to peer down at Tamlin. 

“How did you get him out here? Drugs?”

Feyre barely remembered. That seemed like hours ago. “I dragged him.”

He raised well-groomed brows. “He looks heavy.”

Feyre wrapped her arms around her body as this stranger dragged out several unbroken cinder blocks from the darkness surrounding them. A lock of his head flopped against his sweaty forehead, half-hiding his eyes. He worked easily, like he had experience, and more importantly, didn’t ask her to help. 

Feyre, in return, didn’t ask where he’d found that chain. She merely stood there and watched him attach cinder blocks to Tamlin’s body before he looked up at her. 

“Help me?”

He still did most of the work. Grunting through his teeth, they dragged Tamlin to the edge of the docks and with a heave, plopped him into the inky, cold water. There was something so final about the sight of Tamlin’s face vanishing into the depths where, ideally, he would never be found. 

The stranger picked at a piece of dirt on his shirt. “Want to get Taco Bell?” Feyre blinked, huffing out a hysterical breath. “Who are you?”

He offered a dazzling smile, so at odds with the crime they’d just committed. “My name is Rhysand, but you, darling, can call me Rhys.”

Rhys. 

Her accomplice. 

“My name is Feyre.”

He nodded. “C’mon. Let’s get some soft tacos. We’ll need an alibi, right? On me.”

Feyre could only nod. “Right.”

Rhys opened her passenger door with a flourish, hand outstretched for her keys. Feyre handed them wordlessly while Rhys jogged around the back of her little coup, slamming the trunk shut. This was where he’d threaten her, she thought with dread. Blackmail—she’d be trapped with another psycho instead of being free.

“So,” he said, circling away from the docks easily. He had one hand on the steering wheel, the other on the center console. “Are you thinking soft tacos, or—”

“What do you want?” she asked, hoping it was something easy. Money? Sex? A favor he could call in at some later date, ideally when she’d already packed up the area and was untraceable. 

“I like a chalupa, usually,” he mused. “But it might be better to get like, twenty soft tacos and bring them back to my place—”

“Your place? What? No, I meant, why are you helping me?”

“It’s hard to kill your…what was he, anyway?”

Feyre drummed her fingers against her knee, her jeans bloodstained and dirty. “Boyfriend.”

“Ah. Well, it’s hard to kill your boyfriend when you broke up with him months ago and have been dating me, right? We were out together, getting tacos, which is a casual, established relationship kind of food, before we went back to my place and had passionate sex for the rest of the night.”

It should have scared her, how casually he said that. There was humor in his voice—like he knew he was being absurd. It wasn’t a proposition, or at least, she didn’t think it was. 

“We ah, should probably get our stories straight though,” he added, glancing sideways at her. “Just in case.”

“My house is covered in Tamlin’s blood. The minute the cops show up with a black light, they’ll see it.”

“I know some guys who can help with that,” he offered. “Clean it up, but if you want them to come rip out your flooring, they are quick and discreet.”

“What do you do for a living?” she asked.

“Ah, good question. My girlfriend would know that. I work in finance.”

“Finance,” she repeated suspiciously. “But you know discreet contractors?”

“You should see the parties we hold,” he said with a grin. When she didn’t smile, he softened his expression. “I’m joking. My buddy Cassian runs a business. He’d do it as a favor—no questions asked. Just mop up the blood when you get home, okay? He can have it done in a day or two and you can crash with me. I’ve got a spare bedroom.”

“Why would you help me? I just killed a man, remember?”

“And I helped,” he reminded her, stopping at a light. “We’re in this together now. I’m not going down over a piece of shit strangling his girlfriend on the docks and neither are you. So we’re gonna spend tonight eating tacos and getting our story straight and in the morning, I’m gonna drive you home, help you clean up your place, and bring you back while Cassian gets rid of your floors.”

“And how long will we…?” Feyre didn’t know how to even ask. 

Rhys shrugged. “I figure we can keep up appearances for a few months until people stop looking for him.”

“This isn’t going to work,” she said, her hysteria rising again. Rhys’s hand slid to her thigh, squeezing until she took a breath.

“Breathe, Feyre, darling. Everything is going to be okay. That’s a good girl, breathing through your nose. Release it through your mouth. Good…very good. You’re going to be okay.”

She leaned her head back against the seat. “Maybe I should just turn myself in.”

“No,” he said, looking over with those star bright eyes. “You deserve to live, Feyre.”

She didn’t know how to make sense of that. 

You deserve to live. 

While he pulled into a drive thru and ordered enough food for ten people, Feyre turned his words over and over in her head. She hadn’t been living these last three years. Merely surviving. Constantly walking on eggshells to try and keep Tamlin from getting angry. Doing what he asked, even though it made her miserable. Giving him access to her life, control over the food she ate and the clothes she wore. 

And maybe killing him was the wrong response—but it was the first choice Feyre had made without any consideration for his comfort in years. A bad choice—but a choice nonetheless.

Rhys set a hot bag of food on her lap and began driving deep into downtown.

“My place tonight,” he said firmly, with no room for negotiation. “You can shower and sleep, and we can get to know each other.” She nodded. 

Rhys wasn’t lying that he had a place downtown, though he’d certainly undersold it. He had on of the brownstones she’d always admired and knew she’d never be able to afford. Made of gorgeous brick she assumed, though his was covered in lush, green ivy that her sister Elain would have adored. Little flowers wove their way through the curling vines, making it seem as if his home was protected by some kind of magic. 

 Any other day, Feyre might have marveled at the sheer scale and size of his place—tonight, all she wanted was to crawl beneath hot water. His home was decorated beautifully and she wondered if that was his style, or he’d paid someone to do it. 

“Use my bathroom,” he offered generously, leading her through his bedroom. She tried not to think of the man in front of her, one hand clutching a greasy bag of tacos and the other on her shoulder, laying on those dark satin sheets. “It’s nicer than the guest one and has the added benefit of having shampoo in it.”

Rhys flashed her an apologetic smile. “I don’t have company often.”

“Oh, I don’t believe that,” she said, aware of how flirty she sounded. He arched his brow. 

“Believe it, darling,” he all but purred in response. 

He left her there with nothing but a smirk and a soft, “What’s mine is yours.” His shower was obscene, big enough for the two of them. Water poured from all direction, and for a minute, Feyre could pretend she was here because she’d met him and she genuinely liked him.

But when she closed her eyes, she saw Tamlin hovering over her, his hands wrapped around her throat. 

She saw his face disappearing into the water. 

Feyre stole Rhys’s fluffy white robe when she was done, padding out into the bedroom where he’d helpfully laid out a plain white t-shirt and a pair of dark boxer shorts—all clean. All things his girlfriend might wear. Feyre put them on before rifling through his drawers for a pair of sweatpants or athletic shorts. She wasn’t going out there like this. 

She found gray sweatpants and without wondering what they looked like on him, she cinched them around her small waist and knotted the ties. Good enough. She was comfortable at least. 

She padded into his large living room where he’d spread tacos over a glass coffee table. Bottles of water sat on coasters, alongside several different types of beer. It was strangely endearing how he was trying to make this experience palatable. 

What would the murder podcasters say about this? 

Feyre bet Rhys would have groupies in jail. 

He stared when she came in, eyes wide. Feyre was still combing through her hair, wishing she’d nabbed some of his socks, too. “I borrowed your pants. I hope you don’t mind.”

“I ah…” he cleared his throat, looking back at his spread. “Take whatever you like.”

“So,” she began, sitting carefully beside him on his expensive looking couch. “Fake dating?”

He smiled. “That’s right. Let's get our story straight, hm?”

And they did. Feyre slid to the floor to better eat without making a mess while she and Rhys talked. He was easy to talk to, too. He told her about his sister at college and his parents divorce. About college and his friends and how he spent his time. She learned what kind of music he liked, the shows he watched, his favorite movies.

She shared, too. She told him about her sisters and her father’s death. About how she painted and her hopes of making it big one day—big enough to support herself, anyway. How her house had belonged to her father and neither of her sisters wanted it, which was how Feyre had ended up living somewhere without a mortgage or rent.

And, inevitably, to Tamlin. How they’d met, when he’d become mean—how she’d tried and tried to leave and how he’d keep coming over with gifts and threats depending on his mood. How she kept taking him back because it felt inevitable. She couldn’t escape him so why even try? 

Rhys just listened, even when she rested her shoulder against his knee. 

“I don’t think love is supposed to be so hard,” he finally offered, looking down at her with sympathy that didn’t feel pitying. “I’m sorry that happened to you. I hope you know you didn’t deserve it.”

“Thank you,” she whispered, trying and failing to take her eyes off of him.

“We should get some sleep,” he finally said. And despite his jokes about a night of passionate sex, he merely showed her to his guest room across the house and told her if she needed anything, to just yell. She fell asleep quickly, sinking into nightmares where Tamlin somehow rose from the dead and found her, dragged her from bed, and forced her to take his place.

Feyre woke to darkness and the sound of someone's voice.

“Feyre?”

Rhys was in the doorway, shirtless in just a pair of athletic shorts. “You were screaming.”

Was she? But she must have been, given how hoarse her voice was. Rhys held the doorway, unmoving though his chest rose and fell rapidly. She could see his tattoos in the warm light from the hall—black whorls of ink decorated the golden brown musculature of his upper torso. Mountains graced his powerful knees. 

Could Tamlin get through this man, she wondered? Rhys looked as if every inch of him had been lovingly carved and something about him exuded strength. 

“I…” she whispered, scooting from the center of the bed to the side closest to the shaded window. She pulled the blanket back wordlessly, inviting him to join her. He was a stranger—he was her protector. He’d intervened long enough to keep Tamlin from killing her, had brought her home, and asked nothing but that she help him from being implicated in her crime.

He wanted to help her, too. No questions asked. 

Here, too, Rhys did not object. He merely joined her, one arm outstretched to gather her against the warmth of his body. 

“Go back to sleep,” he murmured, his breath warm against her cheek. “I won’t let anything happen.”

Feyre believed him. 

She’d woken in a strange man’s arms. Somehow, it wasn’t weird. Rhys seemed determined it wouldn’t be, and all of Feyre’s anxiety from the night before had begun to melt away. He seemed wholly unbothered as he ushered her cheerfully out the door, and Rhys got coffee while Feyre waited in his car—not hers. 

She asked him only one question when they began to drive to her house. “Do you think I’m a bad person for not feeling guilty?”

He glanced over at her, hand squeezing the thigh he was casually touching. “Why should you feel guilty when the alternative was you?”

And when she didn’t respond, he added. “Do you think he ever felt guilty?”

Feyre bit at chapped lips. “No.”

“Then why should you?”

She thought about that even when they reached the house. Feyre stepped inside, expecting to see trails of blood and broken glass everywhere. In her memory, it all seemed worse. Her phone was still on the coffee table in the living room, and there was some dried blood, but not nearly as bad as she remembered. 

Tamlin’s phone was gone.

“Go pack your things,” Rhys said, making his way to her little kitchen. “I’ll deal with this.”

“See if you can find his phone,” she called after him, making her way to the bedroom. They would need that. Stupid, to leave it at her house—though, she had planned to say they’d been together all night and she didn’t know what happened when he left. And Feyre certainly hadn’t considered a stranger would offer to be her pretend boyfriend for an alibi.

Now she needed it, though she didn’t know how she’d explain her phone and his at the same place. One problem at a time, she rationalized. 

Feyre zoned out in her bedroom, lost in a flurry of memories and moments in that room. Everything was tainted by Tamlin—good and bad, though mostly bad. Feyre wondered how they’d even gotten there. Things had been so good in the beginning that by the time things weren’t good, she found herself willing to excuse some of it. 

A lot of it.

He had a bad childhood. His last girlfriend had been horrible to him. He just needed someone to be kind to him. To show him softness, that he could trust. He was emotionally unavailable, unconcerned with the words coming out of her mouth. He didn’t listen or worse, he dismissed her feelings if he disagreed or disliked them.

And if she pushed too far, he’d lash out. Sometimes he’d just yell, but more and more, it became the back of his hand or the knuckles on his fist that ended the argument. When he was truly enraged, his fingers would curl around her throat, removing her ability to speak at all. Feyre could never figure out what he wanted.

Even then, sitting on the edge of a green and gold bedspread, she wondered what he’d really wanted. Compliance? A doll he could dress up and fuck—that looked at him only with adoration?

Or did he just want someone he could vent his own pain into? He was suffering, so she would have to suffer, too. He wanted her to. 

By the time Feyre began pulling clothes from her closet and dressers, she could hear the sound of masculine voices at the door. Curious, she crept down the hall, peering into the living room toward the door.

Rhys had dressed the same today as yesterday, though the midnight purple shirt he’d thrown on clung to his muscular chest and made his biceps all the more prominent. He was holding open her front door to keep whoever was on the porch from seeing in. 

“...with you?”

“That’s right,” Rhy purred, his posture utterly relaxed. “Do you need something?”

There was a pause.

“Mr. Green wasn’t at work today and his co-workers called to do a wellness check.”

“He doesn’t live here,” Rhys replied, still casual. How was he so relaxed? Feyre was sweating, was so terrified she thought her heart might come out of her chest. 

“His phone last pinged here.”

She saw a smile spread over Rhys’s handsome face. “Feyre was with me all evening—if Tamlin was here, well. I guess he’s back to stalking her, isn’t he?”

More silence. “Stalking?”

“That’s right. Stalking her, hitting her when he gets too close, breaking in…things that, now that I think about it, are crimes. Right, officer?”

Why was he grinning like that? “Is that so, Mr. Moreno?”

He only shrugged. “What do I know about the laws of this fine country? What I do know is that if he was here looking for my lovely Feyre, she was very occupied. As for Tamlin—have you tried the casinos?”

Another voice entered the conversation. Cheerful, like Rhys’s, he called, “Excuse me officers, I’m trying to scoot past you.”

And in stepped the largest man Feyre had ever seen. Handsome, with shoulder length hair that fell in dark waves, hazel eyes set in soft, golden brown skin, and a smile that wouldn’t have been out of place on a billboard ad—with the body of someone who worked out every day of his life, she figured this had to be Cassian.

“Any other questions?” Rhys asked, his eyes bouncing toward his friend. 

There was a mumbling of no before Rhys snapped the door shut and Cassian burst out laughing. “You should have told them to call your lawyer.”

“I’m sure Eris would have loved that,”

Cassian turned to the living room, scrubbed mostly clean while Feyre tried to figure out how to announce herself. Cassian whistled softly. “I can have this done in a day.” “

Good,” said Rhys as Feyre loudly took a step. He turned and she appeared, eyebrows raised. Cassian’s smile faded when he saw her, and too late, Feyre remembered she was covered in bruises. She needed to reschedule her show. 

“Hey,” Cassian said, his voice devoid of pity, which made her feel better. “I’m Cassian. I ah…heard you wanted some new flooring?”

She nodded. “How much–”

“I got it,” Rhys said just as Cassian added, “No charge.”

Cassian and Rhys looked at the other before Cassian said, “I owe Rhys a favor…or three. Don’t worry about cost. Let’s pick you out some new floors.”

The whole thing was strange and yet Feyre almost didn’t care. She packed and then let Cassian show her different wood samples while another man—Azriel, she learned—came with news he’d put leather interiors in her car before strolling right back out of the house. When she’d asked what he did, Rhys had said IT, and Cassian said mechanic. 

Feyre picked dark wood because Cassian said it would make her house easier to sell—and Feyre wanted to be rid of it. He promised her two days tops, and when she asked what would happen with the current wood, he only grinned.

Like he knew exactly why she was asking and wanted her to know she didn’t need to worry. Feyre was tempted, when she got back in Rhys’s car, to just ask him what was going on. To stare him down and demand to know how he was so calm, so unbothered. As they drove back to his place, Rhys told her amusing stories about he, Cassian, and Azriel growing up and Feyre, in turn, talked about her sisters. 

She wondered what they’d make of all this. What would they say when they learned that Tamlin was dead and the police were already asking questions? Nesta was a lawyer, but maybe she wouldn’t want to help—maybe it would ruin her reputation.

And Elain was a florist. Surely florists didn’t want to be associated with murderers? 

Lucien was the only other friend she had. He, too, was a lawyer and she only knew him because Tamlin had introduced them. She very much doubted she could text him hey I killed your friend, can we talk? Without angering him.

“Doesn’t it bother you?” Feyre asked Rhys once they were safely tucked back in his apartment. He was walking to the kitchen, fingers reaching for a pot.

“What?” he asked her, half lost in whatever thoughts slid through his brain.

“That you watched me kill someone.”

His eyes snapped to her face. “Truthfully?”

Her heart raced. “Yes,” she whispered, her throat coated in sandpaper. 

Rhys braced his body against the counter, backlit by the golden light of the afternoon filtering through an open kitchen window. “It should have been me—not you, who finished him. I was coming to help, but you…”

There was no revulsion on his face. Only open admiration, and some other emotion she didn’t recognize. Rhys cleared his throat. “You’re dealing with a lot, but I wasn’t totally lying about wanting to eat tacos and do…other…things with you.”

Passionate sex. That was what he’d said. Feyre suppressed a shiver at the thought, remembering how it had felt to wake up with her cheek pressed against his chest. 

Rhys turned to fill the pot with water while Feyre wrestled internally with the idea that she was a bad person for wanting to have that with him, too. She hadn’t known him even twenty-four hours. For all she knew, he was just as bad as Tamlin.

Worse, even. 

“Have you ever…” Rhys stilled, his back tense at her question. He turned ever so slightly, looking over his shoulder with unreadable eyes.

“Have I ever what, darling?”

Feyre shook her head. “Nothing. I shouldn’t—”

“Killed someone?” he guessed. It was an absurd proposition. Still, Rhys smiled like he’d done when he had been talking to the police, and Feyre knew, without him saying a word, what the answer was.

Yes. 

That night, after spending the evening laughing with someone who very well might have been a serial killer, Feyre took the empty guest bedroom again, tempted to ask him to join her. Rhys hadn’t made any overtures and Feyre hadn’t invited him.

Moreno. 

She’d heard the cops call him that. With her phone back in her possession, it was easy to google him. Nothing about Rhysand Moreno came up that was unusual. An instagram page that somehow already had pictures of the two of them backdated by four months. 

On page two, she found one article about a man named Antonio Moreno who’d gone to jail for tax fraud, and when she clicked it, Feyre was treated to an image of a man that had to be Rhys’s father. They shared those blue-violet eyes and that midnight colored hair. Antonio, she learned, was rumored to be more than just a blue collar criminal—but the head of a powerful crime family. 

A murderer, among other things. 

That had been ten years ago—Rhys would have been in his early twenties when his father was put behind bars. The article only speculated, as the feds had never been able to prove his father did anything more than not pay his taxes correctly and lied to the IRS. 

She set her phone down and replayed every interaction she’d had with him. Rhys, dressed casually for the docks which didn’t seem the sort of place a man with his kind of money and face liked to hang out. He’d know exactly where to find that chain and those blocks, and hadn’t flinched when it came time to dump Tamlin.

He knew a guy in construction and was good friends with a mechanic. And when she’d asked if he’d ever killed someone, Rhys had only been amused by the question. Feyre stood, her heart pounding. 

She crossed the dark house for his bedroom. She’d assumed he’d be in it—and she was right about that. When she flung open the door, Rhys was certainly laying on those dark, silken sheets.

Naked.

His cock gripped in one hand, muscular thighs spread apart. He didn’t release himself when he saw her, head turned to look.

“Is something wrong?” he asked, his voice huskier than usual. 

“I—” Yes, something was very wrong. A man with his face ought to have an average sized penis at best. Feyre couldn’t drag her eyes from the long, thick erection currently straining beneath one of his already large hands. 

Neither of them moved for a moment, waiting for the other to do or say something. She should have knocked and he should have tried to cover himself. Should have at least pretended he was a gentleman. Rhys stroked himself languidly, an invitation if she’d ever seen it. 

“Would you like to know what I’m thinking about?” he asked when she remained still and silent. Feyre did—and she needed to know the truth. 

“A thought for a thought?” she replied, determined she would have both. He smiled when she closed the door softly behind her.

Rhys stroked himself again.

“Alright. You first, darling.”

“When your father was arrested, did you take over the family business?”

He huffed out a laugh. “Googled me, huh?”

“Did you?”

Rhys slid his free hand behind his head, flexing his bicep ever so slightly. “Yes.”

“And the night on the docks?”

“That’s two questions, Feyre,” he teased, stroking himself again. “But I’ll answer because I think you’re going to crawl into my bed regardless of what I say.”

“You don’t know that,” she whispered, back still pressed to the door. Rhys finally released himself, but only to sit himself up and swing his powerful legs off the bed.

“Don’t I?”he whispered. “Because I think the only thing keeping you from my bed is your fears that you should be more upset by what you did last night.”

Feyre didn’t move as he approached. “I was at the docks cleaning up a mess when I stumbled upon an angel. I would have done it for you—I would have killed him for putting his hands on you, and I regret I couldn’t do that for you. You can’t figure out why it doesn’t bother me—why would it? When you were the most magnificent thing I had ever seen with that chunk of concrete in your hands? I couldn’t move. I couldn’t breathe. All I could think about was your name. I had to know it. And I would have done anything to hear you tell me.” He was towering over her, one hand pressed against the very same door she was. 

“Was this all a ploy? To get me here?”

“You can leave,” Rhys told her, lowering his face ever so slightly. “I’m not going to hunt you down. You’re not an animal. And I think you know I’m not going to betray you. If you want to leave and never see me again, consider this our little secret.”

“And what will you consider it?” she asked him breathlessly, her hands twitching at her side. She wanted to touch him so badly she ached from it.

“What will I consider you?” he asked, his voice sultry—so at odds with the contemplation on his face. “The one who got away, my darling Feyre. I’ll console myself with the knowledge that you escaped that man. That your life is one you chose, and not one forced on you.”

“And if I wanted to stay?” she asked, unsure if that was smart. She didn’t know him, though she liked him.

And she wanted to know more about him.

“Then I’m going to put you in my bed and fuck you so throughly you’ll never consider leaving me.”

“Am I safe?” she asked him, raising her hand to press it to his chest. “Swear you won’t hurt me.”

Feyre could feel his pounding heart beneath her palm. 

“I won’t hurt you,” he whispered. “And I’ll kill anyone who tries.” She leaned up on her tiptoes to press a kiss to his cheek. She intended to feel the rough stubble of his jaw. Rhys smelled like salt and citrus—like a dark night over a cold sea. Rhys turned his face at the very last second, letting her lips collide with his own. And oh. That was much, much better. 

His mouth was soft, his hands instantly on her face, tilting her so he might have better access to her. Feyre pressed herself against him, forgetting he’d already been hard when she came in. She could feel him pressed against her hip, all but bruising the bone. 

“This was what I was thinking about,” Rhys gasped before those hands slid from her face down her body to cup her ass. She was in the air, legs hooked around his waist in an instant as she dragged her fingers through his dark, thick hair. Rhys devoured her in another kiss, tongue sliding between parted lips for a taste. 

“What?” she gasped. Was he talking? Rhys dropped her to the bed and yanked at the pants she was wearing—his sweatpants, which might have been embarrassing had he not been peeling them off her body. Feyre helped, lifting her hips before she tossed her sleep shirt to the floor so she was just as naked as he was. 

“This is what I was thinking about,” he repeated, hovering over her until he was between her legs, sitting on his haunches. Rhys ran his hands up and down her thighs, spreading her out inch by inch. “I was wondering what you’d sound like when you came, and how you might taste…how your body would feel gripped around my own.”

“Rhys,” she whispered as he lowered himself to the bed. 

“I wondered that too. No one can hear us, darling.”

Rhys was in no hurry, giving some credence to the whole passionate sex all night statement he’d made. His mouth trailed kisses up one of her inner thighs, reaching just where she wanted him before he traded legs, moving down, and then right back up. Feyre squirmed, trying to get him to move up.

Rhys chuckled. “What’s your hurry?”

“Please,” she begged, lifting her hips in invitation. 

He groaned softly. “Don’t beg—Just tell me what you want.”

“Put your mouth on me,” she whispered.

 Rhys didn’t have to be asked twice. He licked up the center of her and Feyre gasped. Despite having asked for exactly this, she didn’t feel prepared. She wasn’t prepared for how Rhys moaned against, the vibrations settling low in her gut. The hands holding her open currently slid beneath her, pulling her lower half off the bed entirely while spreading her apart.

Rhys went after her like a wild animal—ravenous and desperate, his tongue sliding over her clit before delving into her body, teasing her with what it would be like when he actually fucked her. 

She was burning, falling. Feyre’s fingers curled in his sheets, the same she’d admired the night before when she’d walked into his bedroom filthy and soaked in blood. Wholly unaware Rhys was hardly a guardian angel but more like the devil, dragging her down, down, down with him.

If this was damnation, she welcomed it. 

Wanted it. 

Feyre tangled her fingers in his hair, pulling the strands while pushing his face closer. Rhys let her, his whole world reduced to her pussy, a fact he seemed immensely delighted by. His tongue moved faster, chasing each moan that slipped from her lips until Feyre couldn’t stand it anymore. Maybe it was the stress of the last twenty four hours or maybe it was him and how he seemed to have an expert understanding of her body, but Feyre bowed off the bed and Rhys redoubled his efforts.

It wasn’t necessary. Feyre’s pleasure, once tightly spooled in her body, unraveled quickly. She didn’t mean to scream his name as glittering stars burst through the darkness behind her eyelids. And she certainly didn’t mean to grind her body against his face, hips rolling and making a mess of him. Rhys didn’t stop, his fingers kneading into the supple flesh of her ass cheeks until Feyre was wrung out and too sensitive.

“Rhys, stop, it’s too much—”

He swallowed her protests with his mouth, still wet from her orgasm. His body settled against her own, cock rubbing against her still convulsing flesh. 

“You are my salvation, Feyre,” he whispered, forehead pressed to her own. Locks of his dark hair flopped into his eyes, making it seem as if he were half shrouded in shadow. Rhys was a dark prince—what did that make her?

“You’re mine,” he added softly, pushing himself into her body gently. Feyre inhaled sharply, pulling him down by the neck for a kiss. Rhys didn’t stop his invasion though he went slow, as if he knew she needed a second to adjust to the stretch, to the utter fullness of accommodating him. Feyre was adrift in a sea of Rhys, drunk on the scent of him, on the feel of being skin to skin as they shared the same body. 

“Feyre,” he panted, swallowing hard. “God Feyre, you…”

Seeing him so at a loss sparked new arousal. Feyre wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed beneath his jaw before licking down the side of his neck. It was enough to convince him to move, to withdraw himself to the tip before thrusting himself back into her. He moaned when she involuntarily tightened around him, forming like a second skin against his bare cock. 

“Your body, Feyre,” he groaned again, finding a rhythm that was brutal without being painful. Feyre rose to meet him thrust for thrust, losing herself in the way his hands skimmed over her, the way his mouth kissed her. 

Feyre raked her nails down her back, sharp enough she was sure she must have drawn blood. Rhys all but whimpered, his pace quickening. She wanted to see him undone, wanted to make him fall apart.

An arduous task, giving her own pleasure currently rising through her. “I need to feel you come,” he panted, like she hadn’t already done so on his tongue. “Come on my cock, Feyre, darling,” he moaned, the words half pulled from his throat with what seemed like great effort. 

One of his hands slid between their bodies, finding her clit and rubbing with inelegant, yet effective strokes. 

“Rhys—”

“Be my good girl,” he whispered, teeth nipping at her earlobe. “Come for me, Feyre, please—”And she did, like a puppet controlled by strings. Rhys did, too, and she wondered if he would have even if she hadn’t, or he would have held himself back. Rhys had gone tight, almost rigid as his precise rhythm gave way to mindless thrusting, desperate to get closer, to fuck her deeper. 

Feyre pulled him close, letting them both ride through their combined release as one. Rhys buried his face in the crook of her neck, kissing and whispering her name like it was a prayer to his personal god. 

“Give me a minute,” he said, pressing a soft kiss to her lips.

“For what?”

“To have you again. I need to catch my breath,” he said with a grin. “I seem to recall I promised you all night.”

“I might need more than five minutes,” she said weakly.

Rhys kissed her again. “Take all the time you need.”

One year later:

Rhys flopped on the bed he shared with his girlfriend—wife—head spinning from champagne. She came with him, in part because his hand was wrapped around her waist, and partly because she, too, had a little too much to drink at their wedding reception.

“Wife,” Rhys said with a breathless laugh. 

“You keep saying that,” Feyre teased, poking him in the ribs. “Did you just realize that’s what happens when you get married?”

“I keep waiting for you to change your mind,” he admitted, rolling to his side to look at her. She was a vision in white, her dress tight through her abdomen before flaring out around her legs. Her hair was pinned around her face, but a night of dancing and laughing had softened the pearl pins, allowing tendrils of that golden brown hair to escape and frame her pretty, freckled face. 

“You’re stuck with me now,” she said, opening silvery blue eyes to look up at him. “And it’s too late for cold feet.”

Rhys laughed, then. Lowering himself for a kiss of gloss stained lips, he said, “I’d have married you the night I met you if you weren’t so freaked out.”

Feyre only smiled, pushing herself up to kick off her heels. “So you like to remind me.”

Rhys followed behind her as she sashayed through the room, fingers itching to touch her. 

“You were very patient,” she added, her praise warming him.

“I was, wasn’t I?” Rhys laughed again, because he’d been anything but patient. He’d gone to his mother for the family ring a month after meeting Feyre and had spent five months walking around with it in his pocket, waiting for the right moment while simultaneously talking himself both in and out of asking. She’d think he was crazy. She’d leave him any minute just as soon as she realized what a wreck he was. 

She’d married him only five hours earlier, binding herself to him with two simple words.

“Are you ever going to tell me what you were really doing that night?” Feyre asked, pulling one of his shirts from a wooden hanger in the closet. In the morning they’d be off to the airport to spend two weeks alone on a private beach where Rhys intended to fuck her every which way. Tonight, too, just as soon as his head stopped spinning.

“I was looking for you,” he recited, just as he always did. Feyre offered him an exasperated look.

Fiddling with his cuffs, Rhys said, “I was looking for you—and I knew the minute I saw you. That night one of the alarms at one of our warehouses went off. I was nearby so I went to turn it off before the cops decided to poke around. I was parked a couple blocks down since the feds still like to follow me around—as you well know. I was heading back when I found you, bashing in the face of someone already on my list.”

Feyre’s fingers slipped from the zipper on her dress. “Your list?” 

She was well acquainted with his list. Though Feyre wasn’t involved in his business, a practical consideration given Rhys wanted children and a family and it was hard to raise children if both parents ended up in jail. His father had taught him that. Not that Rhys would ever find himself in jail given how close he and new mayor Eris Vanserra were. 

And he paid his taxes, as illegitimate as they were. He wasn’t going to waste time behind bars when he could be with his wife. 

“Yes, darling,” he agreed, tugging the zipper the rest of the way down. He wanted to see her in his shirt. “If I had known he had you, I would have moved a little faster.”

Feyre knew better to ask if anyone had come looking for Tamlin. He had no friends, no family. The police had done a half-hearted investigation given he paid far better than the city did so he could conduct business without their interference. They concluded he’d likely skipped town to avoid his debts, and if they ever found him, well…Tamlin owed more than Rhys money. 

“You would have lost your chance to buy me tacos—and make a dramatic entrance,” she reminded him, allowing his hands to skim over her bare shoulders.

“I have no regrets,” Rhys informed her. “Other than he hurt you.”

“I don’t want to talk about him on our wedding night,” Feyre chided. “A thought for a thought?”

Rhys nodded as her dress pooled at her feet. Fuck fuck fuck he was so wrecked at the sight of her in those black lacy scraps she’d clearly chosen in the hopes of driving him to his knees. Feyre turned, letting him see the way her thong slid between her perfect ass cheeks, bending for the shirt she’d dropped. 

“What?”

“A thought for a thought,” she repeated, obviously amused. Rhys nodded, watching as she shrugged into his oversized shirt with a pounding heart. 

“I’m thinking I want to rip you out of that shirt,” Rhys told her, letting himself sink to his knees while Feyre smiled. She was so delighted by his antics, and Rhys liked bathing in the light of her pleasure. Feyre’s fingers were quick on the buttons before she came to him, letting him gather her in his arms and press his face against her stomach. 

“I’m thinking I’m happier than I’ve ever been in my life. I’m thinking I’m glad you found me that night—and I’m thinking that I’m so in love with you I feel like I might come out of my skin.” Rhys looked up at her, sighing softly when her fingers slid through his hair, scratching against his scalp.

“You are my salvation, Feyre,” he whispered, certain she didn’t believe him. Rhys was content to spend the rest of his life proving it to her. “And if I had to wait five hundred years for you, I would have done it-gladly. I love you."

And he did. 

[herofics]

Dabi gets reincarnated as a cat

Someone on wattpad requested the “Dabi dies and gets reincarnated as a cat” thing, I have written one for him where it happens to the reader and both ways for multiple other characters. You can find the reader version for Dabi part 1 here and part 2 here. If you want to read other ones like this you can find them in the masterlist (link in the pinned post), probably under something like “cat reincarnation”

You always knew Dabi was most likely going to die before you. His body simply wouldn’t hold up for much longer, especially with all the stress he’d put himself under during the last year or so. So when he stumbled to your apartment, smelling like some sort of burnt death and falling to his hands and knees, you thought you were ready to handle it.

“Dabi!” you gasped, kneeling down next to him.

He was hot to the touch, so hot that you almost burned your hand when you placed it on his back. He looked like he was quite literally coming unstapled.

“What happened? You’re-you’re falling apart” you were panicking.

“It hurts” he growled, as he collapsed to the floor.

That was something you’d never heard from him before, not like this anyway. Sure he had complained about the occasional headache or things like that, but you had never actually heard it in his voice like this. He sounded like he was in agony.

“What can I do!? Tell me what to do, please!”

Dabi wasn’t moving, he was just laying there.

“Nononononono” you muttered as you checked his pulse.

This couldn’t be happening, not yet. You weren’t ready, you weren’t ready to say goodbye. YOu thought you’d been prepared because you knew this was coming someday, but knowing it did nothing. It felt like even though you had known this was going to happen, it didn’t help at all. You felt like you couldn’t process the situation in front of you.

When you finally came to your senses, it was already too late, Dabi was gone. He wasn’t moving or breathing anymore.

The next few months were hell. You were questioned by the police multiple times on why exactly a wanted villain had died on your carpet. You had to come up with a story, a totally bullshit story, but it was probably easier for the police to believe it was a break in, rather than that you’d been involved with Dabi.

His family paid for the funeral, which you couldn’t attend, because it would’ve aroused too much suspicion. You kept hearing people basically cheering for the news that Dabi was dead. “Another villain gone” said the news article. You had to bite your cheek not to start screaming out of frustration. You knew what he had done, but he had never been anything but good to you, normal ups and downs included.

A few weeks after the funeral, you visited his grave. You weren’t able to bring yourself to do it before. You didn’t want to take a chance with running into his family members at the cemetery.

“Todoroki Touya” the gravestone read.

You’d known his real name, you’d even used it on rare occasions, but it was a whole different thing to see it on a headstone. He had always been Dabi to you. The name he’d chosen for himself, the name he’d introduced himself to you when you met him and the name that now felt painful to even think about.

You’d brought flowers, and as you placed them next to the headstone, you heard the pitter patter of feet getting closer. It was probably an animal of some sort, the footsteps were so light. As you turned to look, you saw it was white cat with strikingly blue eyes.

You almost started crying again, just almost. It was like a cat version of Dabi, who would not have appreciated the thought at all.

The little thing was just staring at you with a grumpy look on its furry face. If cats could feel displeased, this was the expression one would no doubt take on to show it

“Are you alone too?” you asked the cat as you knelt down to offer your hand to it.

The cat looked at your hand and then back into your eyes. It seemed to weigh its options for a moment, but decided to slowly walk towards you.

Dabi had never exactly been fond of animals, but the ones he had disliked the least had been cats. It’s not like he would stop to pet them on the street and he’d never wanted one, but he would let them keep him company if one happened to come along.

The cat pushed its head into the palm of your hand and started purring. You scratched under its chin and the cat started looking a little less displeased than before.

“I miss him so much” you sniffled, still petting the cat.

The cat opened its eyes to look at you after you spoke. It still looked grumpy, but also somewhat understanding, like it knew what you were going through. You petted its head before deciding to leave. You couldn’t linger, you couldn’t be seen there.

“I need to go now buddy, you should go home too” you said as you stood up and started walking away.

The cat yowled very loudly as you turned your back to it, and when you looked back, it was walking towards you, like it wanted to follow you. You took a few more steps and the cat protested again, now walking next to you.

“You’re a loud little fella” you gave the cat a small smile.

The whole way home, the cat walked next to you, hissing at every passerby who walked too close to you. It also kept meowing, demanding your attention constantly.

When you got to the door of your apartment, the cat just waltzed in and made its way to your couch. It curled up on the corner of your couch and closed its eyes.

You missed him so much, you really did. You knew the grief wasn’t going to go away for a while, but maybe your tiny roommate would give you something else to think about.

That night you fell asleep with the cat next to you on the bed. Some of the warmth that you’d lost since Dabi’s passing, seemed to have been brought back by your little friend. You missed him, so, so much, and while you knew you were always going to miss him, the pain wouldn’t last forever.

[loosepocketchange01]

BATMAN FIGURE SKATING AU BATMAN FIGURE SKATING AU

———————

Break the ice

———————

Heel to toe.

Heel to toe.

Wait for it.

Don’t rush it.

Don’t slow down.

Don’t lean out.

Keep in.

Heel to toe.

Don’t wipe out.

The only thoughts repeating in Jason’s head are like a mantra. The moment his skate hit the ice again, he knew it wasn’t right even before Bruce called out.

“You’re pre-rotating! Don’t skid your takeoff, keep it clean!”

The man began skating over to him, giving Jason only a moment to prepare for the disappointment in Bruce’s expression. When he finally stopped in front of him, Jason was surprised to find there was none, only the face of a man deep in thought. When their eyes met, it was hard for him not to look away. It was as though Bruce was studying him, trying to find out what made him tick.

“Jason…”

He swallowed. “Coach?”

“Is something, say, bothering you? Distracting you maybe?”

Aw hell, he seriously thought it was because he wasn’t focused? It was hard to get a jump like that when your whole life depends on it, why couldn’t Bruce just understand?

“Nah, B. I’m good. Probably something up with my skates. Actually, ya know what? I’ll just go retie ’em real quick.”

“Jason-“

“Don’t worry, Bruce! It’ll only be a sec!” And Jason was already speeding off the ice and into the locker rooms.

Dumping himself onto a bench, he took a moment to catch his breath. Head leaning against the wall behind him, the cool brick— or whatever it was— felt like heaven against his sweaty hair. Jason’s eyes shut for a moment, replaying the sequence in his head.

He needed that double axel. If he didn’t get the 2A, then he’d never get the 3A. If Jason doesn’t land that 3A in competition, Bruce won’t see the point in keeping him. He couldn’t fail, not when everything depended on it.

Life at the manor made him realize just how much he lacked living with Willis and on the streets. The man earned just enough to fund Jason’s skating and his mother’s addiction but fell short completely in the parenting apartment. The goal before he was arrested was to take the total share of Jason’s money from sponsors and place rewards. Before.

Bruce was like a father to him even before he was adopted. Constantly saying how proud he was of Jason, hugging him when he reached a milestone, and even celebrating his 11th birthday when Willis forgot.

He was 14 now and still didn’t have his double axel. Jason wasn’t stupid. He knew people took years to get their double and triple A. It didn’t matter. If Jason wasn’t skating, if he wasn’t winning, then Bruce wouldn’t see the point in keeping him around.

If only it wasn’t so hard, but no. It was always pre-rotated. Under-rotated. Over-rotated. Waxel. Check the arms. Nothing was ever right.

Except for the one time.

A perfect takeoff, 2.5 rotations, and a perfect landing. He’d done it all while he was sick and shown up to practice anyway, too delusional to think about his mental block and simply going for it without a care in the world besides the migraine in his head.

Bruce had cheered for him up until the moment he realized Jason had hidden being sick from him.

He did it once, why can’t he just do it again?

“Hey, JayBuddy!”

Jason nearly slammed his head against the wall as he jolted, eyes opening in a panicked array. His vision centered on Dick Grayson.

“Woah, hey, relax. Sorry I scared ya.” The smile never left his face.

Jason scowled.

Dick. Fucking. Grayson.

Possibly the worst part about living with Bruce was his other kid. The ever-annoying man never knew when to stop teasing, and made his disdain for Jason obvious. Dick didn’t even live with Bruce anymore, but he always made time to visit just to piss Jason off. This was even without the constant comparisons made by the man.

‘Struggling with your 2A, Jason? I could do my 3A at your age!’

Or

‘Oooo tough wipeout on your quad salchow. Ya know, that’s my signature jump.’

Jason hated the man, no matter how much the papers emphasized that they were brothers.

“What do you want, dickface.”

The older boy made an expression of mock offense, even going so far as to lay a hand over his heart.

“I’m wounded, Jason, truly. You realize this is a public locker room, right? I can be here if I want.”

Jason rolled his eyes, moving to redo the laces on his skates despite not needing to. He barely bit back the series of curses when he heard Dick set down his back beside him and take a seat to Jason’s left. He’d come to find that the best thing to do was to ignore him.

“Though, with how long that double is taking, I’d wanna hide too.”

But that would only work if Jason was good at ignoring people who pissed him off. He wasn’t.

Jason nearly stood right up before remembering that his laces were completely loose and setting himself back down. Dick’s cheery expression did little to hide the man’s malicious intentions.

“Fuck off, asshole! It’s not that easy!”

He set to work on the first pair of laces.

“Isn’t it? I got mine in a year. Less if you don’t include the times Bruce made me do it in a harness.”

Jason fumbled with the hooks in his anger, loosening the whole thing and having the start over.

“I guess that’s what you get for stealing my place while I was gone though.”

It had been a sore spot for both of them. After Bruce got Jason off the streets after 2 years of not seeing the boy, they were quick to return to training. When Dick returned from a sponsor trip abroad, he wasn’t the happiest upon seeing that some kid he didn’t know took all of his practice slots.

Jason willed himself not to let the liquid collecting in his eyes fall. He simply moved on to the next skate.

“That it? You’re not gonna argue back? Maybe tell me about how much of an ass I’m being again?”

It was getting harder to hide the quiver in his lip.

“None of your sarcastic responses?”

“What do you want me to say, Dick?” Nothing was more embarrassing to Jason than the shakiness of his own voice. He felt Dick’s shadow over him lean back and out of his space.

“What? Hey, kid. Are you crying?”

Jason tugged on the final knot of his laces and stood up, glaring at the stunned man through his blurry vision.

“I hate you! You don’t even know how lucky you are!”

Any part of the older man’s expression that showed guilt dissipated in a quick second, quick to fire back.

“And you aren’t? Don’t act like it’s so easy for me!”

And now Jason couldn’t stop himself from letting everything stream out, like a raging waterfall trying to escape from a stuttering source.

“You don’t have to fight for your home! You’re already B’s son! Why do I gotta fight to have a place to sleep? Nail every stupid jump and sequence or else Bruce is gonna send me back! And because you’re such an ass-, you just gotta rub it in my face! I get it, okay?” He cringed at how his voice cracked but pushed through anyway.

“I’m not good enough to be his kid!”

And finally, Dick had no more left to say, just the face of shock as Jason gathered his things and rushed out of the room.

There wasn’t time for Jason to dwell on it. He had a practice to return to.

As soon as he was a safe distance away from both Dick and Bruce, hidden in the corner by the water fountains and vending machines, Jason wiped away his tears and tugged his jacket back on.

And so after he returned, they ran through it again and again. There was always some mistake, some issue Jason couldn’t seem to get under control without a new one popping in. Fall after fall, failure after failure. By the time the whistle rang for them to clear the ice, Jason’s knees and elbows showed promise of nasty bruises for the next day.

He rushed to get his shoes on, cringing at the sight of his red ankles. Bruce was already waiting for him in the car and the rink was basically empty aside from the Zamboni driver on the ice.

Before he could push out of the locker room, a hand on his shoulder shoved him back in. Jason quickly regained his balance before he looked up to see who it had been.

“What the hell, Dick!” He nearly shrieked, ready to tear into the man. Before his mouth even opened, Dick cut him off.

“Sit down. We need to talk.”

Jason’s expression hardened. His eyes narrowed in on Dick’s equally serious ones.

“I got nothing to say to you.” He tried to go around the man but Dick’s hand fell on his shoulder again and pulled him back.

“Great. That means you’ll be able to listen.”

Jason scoffed, relenting. He sat down on the bench and folded his arms, Dick taking the seat across from him. He raised an eyebrow for the older man to speak.

“I think—you and I— we got off to a bad start,” he began, giving Jason a look before the boy could get out his sarcastic remark, “and there are some things we need to work through.”

“Now, I won’t sugarcoat it, Jason. I don’t like you, I don’t like that you’re in any part of my life.”

“FYI, just so you know, you’re doing a pretty shit job at ‘working things through.’”

Dick gave him a pointed look before Jason rolled his eyes and zipped it.

“But,” he continued, “you’re also still supposed to be my brother, and it was wrong of me to comment on your progress or why you were adopted. I was just trying to hit you where it hurts and I shouldn’t have. I’m sorry.”

Jason gaped at him, rushing to school his expression before urging Dick to continue. Clearly, the man still had more to say, what with the way he was nervously picking at his nails.

“About what you said earlier…the, uh, part about staying with Bruce. You- don’t tell me you seriously think you have to fight for a place to live.”

His expression tightened, and Jason had to resist the urge to snarl back a nasty reply.

“Oh, shi- crap. Jason.”

The way Dick was looking at him made Jason want to run away from the whole conversation. Like he felt bad. Like he cared.

The man got up from the bench to kneel in front of Jason.

“If you don’t believe anything else I say, Jay, then you have to believe this. Bruce would never make you fight to stay with him. No matter how long you take, how much you fall or make mistakes, Bruce will never send you away. He won’t kick you out, he won’t make you work for his love, and if you wanted to quit skating altogether, you’d still be his son all the same. Nothing could make him send you away, I promise you that.”

The tears began welling in Jason’s eyes halfway through, and he willed himself not to let them fall. Every word was spoken with the utmost sincerity, and yet…

“Jason,” Dick whispered, heartbroken.

“You don’t know that!” Jason shouted, hands tightly gripping his pants. “You don’t!”

Dick gently placed his hands on Jason’s shoulders, his calm, sad eyes meeting Jason’s frustrated, fearful ones.

“You have a home to stay, Jay. You have a family. One that loves you, and if there’s even the chance Bruce goes crazy and says something, you’ll call me and I’ll take care of it.”

The dam finally broke, and Jason threw himself the rest of the way into Dick’s arms, face burying into his chest. His brother’s arms were quick to wrap around him, fingers passing through Jason’s hair.

“Shh…I know..it’s okay, bud, you’re okay.”

Once the tears were wiped and they both pulled away from the hug, Dick promised him that he’d be there for Jason from then on, that he’d become the big brother that he needed. Jason would hold him to it.

——Junior World Championships, Paris, France——

“An astounding program from 14-year-old debuting skater Jason Todd! A beautifully balanced mix of artistry and elements, we have watched as this young boy has shown us the skating skill that many desire and cannot come to par with. The double Axel was gorgeous! Though, without it being a triple, some wonder if it’ll be enough to guarantee Todd gold.”

In short; it wasn’t. Jason had placed 3rd overall and ran straight to the empty lobby before the medal ceremony. Arms wrapped tightly around himself, Jason nearly slid to the ground before a pair of strong arms wrapped around his frame.

“Jason!”

It was just Dick. Hugging him. After Jason placed third.

“Dick, what-?”

“I’m so so proud of you! That was awesome!” Dick pulled back, excitement turning into confusion upon seeing Jason’s downcast face.

“Jay? What’s wrong?”

He shrugged, lip trembling but no signs of tears to be found.

“I didn’t win. I didn’t have a triple Axel in time. If I could’ve just gotten that jump, I would’ve won!”

Dick sighed, connecting the rest of the pieces. His hands remained on Jason’s shoulders, grounding him.

“Little Wing,” a nickname Dick had given them shortly after their first time getting ice cream after practice together, “do you remember what I told you?”

Jason slowly nodded, hanging his head down and refusing to look back at Dick.

“I know.” His voice was little more than a whisper. “Logically, I know. But I still…”

Dick brushed a hand through Jason’s hair. He understood. You could know something, repeating it over and over in your mind like a mantra that it was the truth, but there would always be something in the back of your mind. An evil voice filling your mind with bearish thoughts and false realities.

“If I say you did amazing, how did you do?”

“…good?”

“No.”

“…amazing.” Jason tried again, head lifting enough for Dick to see his face entirely again.

“Exactly. You did amazing, Jay.” He smiled, leaning down to kiss Jason’s hair.

“Now, come on. You have a medal ceremony coming up and I can’t wait to celebrate with Nachos!”

And when they walked back into the main area, and Bruce threw him into a bone-crushing hug and told Jason how proud he was, maybe he could finally start believing that he did have a home, one where he was loved no matter what.

[depressedhatakekakashi]

Sunlights Warmth

prompt: True Loves Kiss

Words: 1207

@kakagaievents

“You have to kiss me,” Gai looked over the bottle he had just spun, grinning at Kakashi while their friends stood all around them watching. “That’s what the bottle says.”

As if Kakashi could have forgotten. He’d watched the bottle spin between them, whizzing past every other person until coming to a stop, pointing its nozzle directly at Kakashi.

He still wasn’t quite sure why he had agreed to partake in this game. Kissing wasn’t something he made a habit of doing with just anyone.

In fact, to date he’d only kissed two other people before Obito.

Yugao, who he’d kissed on a desperate last second attempt to keep their cover after she’d said something that could have tipped off their target to their true intentions. She’d slapped him as soon as they got back to Konoha and told him to think of some other way to deal with her mistake next time.

The other kiss was far more passionate. 

A sweet moment shared between him and Rin shortly before the day she died. A moment he’d granted her when she asked, hoping against all odds that there would be fireworks, or something. Anything that would allow him to return the love she so freely gave to him.

It hadn’t worked out, and it was the first time since Obito’s death that he’d seen her cry.

Now it was time to disappoint Gai, just as he had done with Rin.

To kiss him, just as he had done with the other two, and feel nothing in his cold, broken heart.

“Come on,” Asuma struck a hand across his back and laughed when he glared at him. “It won’t be so bad. I bet Gai tastes like dango.”

“Or curry,” Anko piped up. “Or maybe he tastes like Ramen. He did have some for lunch.”

Kakashi could do little but roll his eyes at the comments. Whatever Gai tasted like didn’t matter to him because at the end of the day it would end the same as it always had.

An empty feeling in his chest that would confirm what he’d already learned from Rin and Yugao. That he was incapable of Romantic love.

“Kiss!” Gemma lifted his drink up into the air and laughed. “Kiss, kiss, kiss!”

“Alright, alright,” Kakashi couldn’t believe he had agreed to this, but he was stuck now. There was no choice but to kiss his best friend otherwise the others would never let him hear the end of it. “Gai?”

“Ready when you are, Rival.” Gai beamed, as excited for this as he was for any of their challenges.

Now or never.

Taking a deep breath, Kakashi tucked a finger under the top of his mask and yanked it down as he leaned in. Mentally, he’d prepared himself perfectly for this moment. Gone through every possible scenario he could think of and ensured he wouldn’t do anything embarrassing.

Only when Gai’s lips met his did he realise his mistake. His failure to account for the exact scenario he found himself in.

Oh.

A pleasant, warm feeling bloomed in his chest. As if he was being dipped directly into sunlight.

His gaze locked on Gai, noticing right away that he’d already closed his eyes and submerged himself straight into this feeling.

Comfort.

Familiarity.

Love.

All of those words buzzed through his mind, taunting him as he stared directly at his best friend's face. Took in the sight of Gai’s soft expression while they lingered there, locked in a kiss that Kakashi hoped never ended.

The heat spread. Moving up from his stomach and touching his cheeks. Gathering in his face until he felt like he was overheating. 

At this moment Kakashi couldn’t imagine anything more beautiful than the man in front of him. The curve of Gai’s eyes seared into his mind, a treasured memory that he would cling to for the rest of his life. The feeling of his lips, which tasted nothing like ramen or dango but instead something new. Something unique to Gai. All of it made its home in his memories.

Precious, beautiful moments that he was certain would get him through even the darkest days.

“Aww, cute,” Anko snickered. “He’s blushing.”

Panick.

Wrenching himself away from Gai, he grabbed his mask and yanked it back over his face in a desperate attempt to cover bright red cheeks. 

“I-“

“I knew it,” Asuma stretched a hand out towards Genma. “Cough up the Ryo.”

Genma grunted his disapproval. “Damn, the one time I was relying on your Kakashi,” 

Kakashi might have rolled his eyes or made a snarky comment about not relying on others if it were any other day. If he was doing anything else.

In this moment, though, he could only lower his eyes in shame.

“I-“

“Ramen?” Gai asked, the grin on his face even widder than it had been before. “Did I taste like Ramen like Anko said?”

He simply shook his head.

“Ih, then dango!” Gai cheered. “That would make the most sense. Dango is my favourite food.”

“Uh, Gai,” Kurenai poked him in the side and chuckled when he let out a loud yelp. “Sorry.”

“What was that for?”

“Well,” lofting a hand, she extended a slender finger and pointed towards Kakashi. “I think you broke him.”

“Broke him? My eternal rival?” Gai almost sounded offended on his behalf. “I could never. Kakashi is the coolest person in all of- uh, Kakashi?”

He’s not really sure what happened next. All he knows is that the warmth in his face was begining to overwhelm him. As if he was standing in the middle of the desert with the blazing sun beating down at him.

An appropriate comparison to make, he thought. After all, Maito Gai was like the sun itself.

Bright, warm, always there for him.

“Kakashi!”

A cold hand came down hard against his forehead and it was only then that he realised he’d fallen over. All of his friends' faces hovered over him, each with their own worried expression.

There was only one he cared about, though.

Once he couldn’t drag his eyes away even now, with the ceiling hanging over him and an overwhelming heating burning his very soul.

“I-“

“Do you need someone else to kiss you?” Asuma teased. “I think Gemma is up to the job. “

“No.”

“Anko.”

“No.” He grunted when Anko responded by slapping his stomach. 

“Would you like Gai to kiss you again?”

Kakashi thought about it for a moment. If Gai kissed him again maybe he’d feel that pleasent warmth again. The one that enveloped him and made him feel wanted.

Loved.

“…maybe.”

Their faces disappeared suddenly, every single one except Gai’s, and laughter rang through the air. Kakashi didn’t care, though. 

Gai was there.

He was looking at him.

“One more,” his rival smiled down at him. “For good measure.”

“For good measure,” Kakashi agreed while Gai tucked a finger under the top of his mask and yanked it down. “Just one more.”

Love.

That’s what it was.

When Gai leaned down and kissed him again, there was a feeling of  love that squeezed his heart so tight it hurt.

A feeling that Kakashi would happily chase for the rest of his life, even if he didn’t deserve it. 

[hellmouth-manor]

I'm going to walk into the ocean I'm so sad || Kamiya || Trial 4.4 || Re: A lot of people honestly.

It was hard listening to everything being said, silence on Kamiya’s part in between his own statements and a look of regret painted on his face. It hurt to know he had done everyone this much wrong, especially when his intentions had been nothing but good, at least in his eyes. It caused him to let out a deep breath as he looked over to Touji, trying to offer the smallest smile he could muster, it wasn’t a smile formed by joy, more acceptance.

“--Ya… Ya keep blamin’ her but I’m the one who killed first, man. She was scared, we all were. A person can only take so much fer that, yeah? It’s why she set up the trap. I’m the one who was too stupid t’ think b’fore leapin’ in this case. If I had done anythin’ t’ think fer a second, then I could’a saved them all. I-I didn’t stop t’ think fer a goddamn second about a plan t’ save ‘em that wouldn’t risk ‘em. When I saw ‘em there I just… I panicked, bro. I… Can’t speak fer anythin’ outside the trap, but she didn’t get me killed… I’m the only one t’ blame fer the shit I did, as unintentional as it was, bro.”

This all was heavy, and something which caused him to shake his head in response to his next question.

“I was alone. I ran off t’ find the first aid, ran all over the place tryin’ t’ remember where the fuck I could get it at. Ya can confirm with the demons that I was alone when I did that, I had t’ call ‘em t’ give me one. If I had remembered when I was by Mirai, then maybe… Maybe I could’a actually done somethin’.”

Then came Hibiki’s words, ones that caused his look of regret to only increase, the man who Kamiya viewed as his closest friend, like a brother to him in this case… It caused him to let out a laugh, devoid of any joy that he often presented, there was nothing to feel positive about in this case, he knew what he had done.

“...I haven’t lied once t’ ya bro, everythin’ I said is what I think happened. I don’t know how t’ make it more clear but… I haven’t been coverin’ fer Nono. If she did kill someone this is news t’ me… I really think Minami got killed by the shit I did somehow, I had no idea what happened. Ya saw how I reacted when she dropped dead there. I was just as fuckin’ confused as you guys were… B-But with Mirai, that one was me. I didn’t mean t’, but it was me.”

Then again, when someone was destined to fail the outfit of a hero would never fit, he’d always been afraid of ending up like this, someone who truly amounted to nothing in his life… Someone being disappointed in him wasn’t exactly a new feeling, but, someone who he cared about as much as he did Hibiki hurt even more than anything else, it caused him to nod along, frowning in response.

“...Be disappointed if ya want, man. But I haven’t lied t’ ya man. I haven’t covered fer her once in this, I just… I genuinely believe I’m the one who did all this… If ya hate me though, it’s chill. I ain’t gonna hold a grudge ‘bout this all, man.”

But, as Ruby spoke Kamiya turned his gaze toward her. She had every right to have this anger, this rage forming inside her, and Kamiya had no grounds to dispute that. It was a moment of silence on his part, before returning a gaze to her, a look of regret in his eyes as he nodded to her, fully accepting whatever she would do in the future.

“...When I’m a demon ya can beat the shit out of me whenever ya want. I ain’t gonna stop ya. I know what I did… I ain’t lyin’ an’ I know I hurt ya guys, I ain’t gonna ask fer forgiveness… I-I just… Don’t want ya guys t’ get hurt anymore, okay? Eli was there an’ saw everythin’ an’ if he’s… If he’s sayin’ I wasn’t there when Minami got attacked I’d believe him on that. I sure as fuck didn’t know, or, try t’ cover fer that though, I was the reason Mirai died though. I told ya guys we’d find the killer while we investigated, right? I… I-I was so confident I killed her, ‘s why I tried t’ lighten the mood ‘round ya guys too… I knew this would be hard, an’ I wanted t’ at least make some’a the final memories’a me alive not… This… But if yer angry, an’ ya wanna get back at me, I ain’t gonna stop ya.”

This all hurt, it was a heavy feeling in his chest, but, listening to Micah, then to Nike he shook his head, it was starting to get really tiring hearing one specific thing, one thing that everyone was so focused on this entire trial. And for a moment the endless patience that Kamiya had been showing snapped, he didn’t mean to raise his voice, but, in a moment of desperation it was important to make his voice heard.

“I. HAVE. NOT. BEEN. COVERIN’. FER. HER! DO I GOTTA YELL?! I’LL FUCKIN’ YELL IT AS LOUD AS I CAN. IF I’M WRONG IT’S NOT ‘CAUSE I’M COVERIN’ IT’S ‘CAUSE I’M FUCKIN’ STUPID OKAY? YOU ALL FUCKIN’ KNOW THAT!” 

“She texted me ‘bout the trap, minutes before shit happened t’ warn me not t’ go there! That’s all it was! I rushed in an’ fucked up afterwards! I didn’t think! I didn’t think fer a goddamn second, I just wanted t’ get that trap disabled so that no one would walk int’a it! That’s all it fuckin’ is! I don’t know what happened to Minami! But when ya kill one person an’ someone else drops dead moments after it’s hard t’ not blame yerself! –Also! Lay the fuck off of Eli, ya know how fuckin’ much he went through there? I get yer pissed, I understand it! But get pissed at me! I killed Mirai, I didn’t mean t’ but I sure as fuck did that! Bro was just in a bad fuckin’ spot, an’ he’s tryin’ t’ cope, he lost people too, lay the fuck off him, please.”

Then came Alou’s suggestion, one that caused his eyes to go wide as he shook his head, deciding to be as blunt as possible about this all.

“I confessed t’ avoid anyone random dyin’. If anyone even thinks t’ do shit like that I won’t forgive ya, I’m serious on that. At the end of the day I’m a murderer, I genuinely do not know what happened t’ Minami, it could have been me, or, it could have been Nono. I really, really don’t know. Please just stop actin’ like I’m some villain, ‘cause I’m trying to do right by confessing. As I said, I already accepted I was gonna die, so, just please let me do one thing right in my goddamn life.”

[vitaegratis]

scarednotscary​:

☾⋆ ‒‒‒‒‒  Whether Eddie did something or nothing at all, the point still stood; he’d been there and sure, he may have been panicking and freaking the hell out, but it worked. Maybe he’d never tell her what happened while she was in that trance, maybe she did just wake up of her own accord, who was to say? It didn’t matter. It didn’t matter because he was innocent of the things he was being accused of, he hadn’t hurt her, hadn’t terrorised her, he’d been there for her when no one else had. “What did or didn’t happen… what you did or didn’t do… the fact is I’m still here and I have you to thank for it. Fred… he was alone and probably scared, I know I was.”

Chrissy shifted to crouch down beside him, her knee’s drawn into her chest so that her arms could lazily hug at her shins. She listened to him, listened as he gave a brief run down of what he’d been told and what he knew. It made a sort of sense, explained why so many weird things had been happening and then suddenly there was a plausible explanation for it. No one believed Benny killed himself, no one. Just like Barb Holland’s parents didn’t believe their daughter was a runaway… how crushing it must have been to hear that she’d died after hoping they’d find her safe and well. As for this little girl, Eleven… that was something Chrissy was still trying to wrap her head around.

It was when Eddie spoke about the possibility of being made into the scape goat that she was brought back into the here and now. The thought of Eddie being alone in a cell and some stranger… he’d be terrified and alone and she wouldn’t want that for him, even if there was a chance he could clear his name, was it worth risking him being callously murdered in his cell just so all of this could be swept under the rug? No.

She shuffled towards him, still crouched and so small in comparison, her hands reaching out so that she could gently cradle his face in both of her hands. “I’m not going to let anyone hurt you, Eddie… Just… keep running, okay? I know how it makes you look but keep running. I will do whatever I can to help you get your name cleared, even if I have to beg the feds myself to make it all go away.”

God. What was wrong with him? No, seriously, something had to be wrong with him. In the midst of giving Chrissy the real dirt on all the horrible things that had happened in Hawkins the past few years, the fact it even occurs to him… how adorable she is. Crouched down like that, she made herself look even smaller than she was. And when she reached out to cup his face?

Shaking his head, Eddie removed her hands and held them in his own - squeezing gently. “What’s wrong with this picture? …you’re marked for death, and you’re the one trying to comfort and reassure me. You and Mayfield both… the priority is keeping you safe. Keeping me safe isn’t… proving my innocence, there’ll be time for all that after. Cause if you’re gone… I mean, there’ll be no one to testify, and I mean… it would t even matter at that point. To me.”

He’d indulge her, though. He would keep running, or rather - he wouldn’t turn himself in. He’d stay close. If that was a comfort. When all this was said and done… okay, yeah, Jason might have been deluded enough to think he had manipulated or brainwashed her. Believe that ‘satanic mind control’ was a factor. The feds, though? They wouldn’t buy into that. What happened to Benson and McKinney was tragic and horrifying, but. Between Chrissy’s testimony, and the party. Even if they couldn’t identify who the killer was - there was enough to prove it wasn’t him - in a court of law. Right?

Or at least leave room for reasonable doubt.

[crazyk-imagine]

If I Only Could (Reader lives)

Pairing: Steve Harrington/ Hargrove sister!reader

Characters: Steve Harrington, Hargrove sister (reader), Max Mayfield, Lucas Sinclair, Dustin Henderson

Briefly mentioned: Nancy Wheeler, Robin Buckley

Warnings: Vecna, reader “putting” themself in danger, reader saves Max, drama, mentions of Billy, mentions of blood

Word Count: 3,928

A/N: Reader and Steve aren’t officially together but it’s implied that there’s something more

If I Only Could (Reader dies)

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

It doesn't hurt me.

Do you want to feel how it feels?

Do you want to know that it doesn't hurt me?

-

After finding out how to save his friend, the short teen with a techy hacker girlfriend sets the walkie talkie down somewhere (he’ll worry about it later) and rushes towards Max’s backpack, pulling out her cassette tapes, headphones, and walkman. 

He turns back towards the others. “Music. Music. We need music,” Dustin runs back to the others. “What’s her favorite?” “I don’t know,” Lucas answers to his friend with a panicked tone.

-

Do you want to hear about the deal that I'm making?

You, it's you and me.

-

You reach for a cassette and place it the walkman before handing it to Dustin, “put this on her.” 

Nothing happens, you start to panic more. 

Your heart races, you move closer to your sister. “Max! Max! C’mon,” you shake her shoulders. ‘I can’t lose you too.’

 -

If I only could,

 -

Tik. Tik. Tik.

You turn to find that damned grandfather clock staring back at you. 

The world around you changes into something much dark than before… you know this place, it’s the one that’s been haunting you for the past few days… and that means everything you’ve just done for the past few minutes wasn’t real. 

You turn to look around at any and every noise that comes your way. 

You feel like you’re on the verge of having an anxiety attack, your chest ever so slightly tightens, you take deeper breaths to calm yourself. 

You run around, searching for a way out.

 -

I'd make a deal with God,

And I'd get him to swap our places,

 -

Vecna or whatever the kids told you, calls out for you but, in the form of your big brother… 

“Billy,” you whimper. 

Your heart races at the sight of him. It hurts to see him now; he still looks to the same as he did the night he died in the “Mall Fire”. 

Even though it’s not him, maybe you can finally get this off your chest. 

“I’m sorry.” 

“Are you?” He steps towards you. 

“What?”

 -

Be running up that road,

 -

“Admit it. Some part of you always wanted me gone. You were tired of me. If I was gone, you wouldn’t have to worry about me messing everything up.” 

You shake your head, tears fall down your cheeks as you take steps back, aiming to distance yourself from the evil bastard. “N- no. You know that’s- Billy knows that’s not true. I was tired of the fighting with our dad, each other, Max, everyone. And I know he was too. All I wanted- all I’ve ever wanted was for us to be happy and for my brother and sister to get along, love each other the way we did.” 

You sniff, wiping your cheek, “I wanted Billy to be happy the same way he was when he rode that seven-foot wave when we were kids.” 

“You’re guilty because you wanted me gone,” Vecna Billy drones on.

 -

Be running up that hill,

 -

“No! That’s not true! Billy knows that!” 

Vecna Billy shakes his head, “you feel guilty because I’m out of the picture and dad ran away so your perfect family picture is ruined, right?” 

“No! NO! The real Billy knows exactly what I wanted! He’d never ever admit it but, he wanted the same thing. I know he deserved to be happy, and he deserved to be free of the shit he got from dad, but Hawkins took it from him. You don’t know Billy like I do, and you never will!”

 -

Be running up that building.

 -

You trip over a hard object, you’re not too keen on focusing on that as you see Vecna Billy’s true hand aiming for you. 

If Vecna gets close to you, you’re a goner just like your brother. 

This fuels you to keep going. 

You can’t stop, you can’t leave Max alone to suffer with her mother. 

Your sister needs you and you need her, and you’ll be damned if you go down without a fight.

 -

If I only could, oh

 -

You stop focusing on the “if you die’s” and work on getting the hell out of there. 

You push yourself off the ground and start running, anywhere you can, if it puts distance between you and Vecna. 

The evil creature takes another step towards you but you’re a few feet away to notice.

 -

You don't want to hurt me,

But see how deep the bullet lies.

 -

You dive to hide behind one of the large statue headstones (right now, you don’t care to analyze if you’re right or not). “You can’t hide from me.” It continues to taunt you; as if you care, you’re praying you can find a way out of this hell.  

 -

Unaware I'm tearing you asunder.

Ooh, there is thunder in our hearts.

 -

You run away from the area, glancing at the red fog concealing the evil that hides behind it. 

You’re not too focused on yourself or who’s in front of you, suddenly you bump into someone, you look down and find your little sister. “What the hell are you doing here?” 

You hold her by her shoulders, standing tall to hide her. 

“I’m- I-” 

“There’s no time,” you glance around, searching for the creature or any new threats coming your way. 

You look back on the fog to your right before glancing around to see if the coast is clear. “Run towards the red fog.” 

“What?” 

“Run through the fog,” you enunciate for her to understand. “It has to be his area- where he keeps his victims, so you can probably find a way out, right?”

 -

Is there so much hate for the ones we love?

Tell me, we both matter, don't we?

 -

Max shakes her head, tears pool in her eyes, “No, I can’t- I can’t leave you. I can’t lose you too.” 

You cup her cheeks, forcing her to pay attention to you, “you have a better chance at making it out of here than I do. Vecna is focusing more on me than he is you and you deserve to live long enough to find what makes you happy.” 

“Please don’t do this.” 

“Maxine,” you shove her in the direction of the red fog. “I need you to run and run fast.” You exhale when you see her figure disappear.

 -

You, you and me.

It's you and me won't be unhappy.

 -

You sniff before you feel yourself freeze. 

The footsteps are getting closer. 

You take off again, praying that she made it out and she’s with the others.

 -

If I only could,

 -

“Put her headphones on!” Lucas shouts. 

“I’m trying,” Dustin shouts back. 

“Max. Max. Hey- hey. You’re okay,” Steve and Lucas try to reassure her. 

“No,” she shakes her head. “Where is she?” 

“Who?” Steve asks. 

“My sister. She’s- she’s in there. We need to help her.” 

“She’s fine. She’s still near the,” he turns to see that you haven’t changed your position this whole time. “Car. Henderson, give me the headphones.” He holds his out, “Now!” 

Dustin hurries to place the items in his hand.

 -

I'd make a deal with God,

And I'd get him to swap our places,

 -

Steve runs to you, using his athletic skills that have been put on the back burner for some time now but, he still has it in him to haul ass to get from point A to point B. 

He stops himself before he can run into you. 

He fumbles with the headphones and almost drops them but is able to catch them and put them on you before your time is up.

 -

Be running up that road,

Be running up that hill,

Be running up that building,

 -

The sight of Max falling down a few feet ahead of you fills you with relief. 

‘She made it.’ A smile stretches across your face. ‘She made it.’ 

“You can’t run,” Vecna says in its true form. 

You gasp, looking over your shoulder to see him getting closer and closer. 

You try to run towards the others, watching as they try to bring you out of the stupid trance, something wraps around your ankle and pulls you back.

 -

If I only could, oh

 -

The music is faint, but you can hear it as you scramble to grab anything to stop you from getting closer to your impending doom. 

You cry out as you see yourself standing there, Steve in front of you, shaking your shoulders. 

-

C'mon, baby, c'mon darling,

-

Max pushes herself out of Lucas’s arms and runs to you. She can’t let you go; she can’t let you die protecting her like Billy did for the two of you. 

If your gone… it’s going to- She calls out for you, taking a deep breath as she gets closer so she can continue to cry out your name. 

Max shakes your shoulders as she stands before you. “Wake up. Wake up! Fight it. I need you to fight it!” 

The others stand behind her, watching helplessly, not knowing if this will work or not.

 -

Let me steal this moment from you now.

 -

‘Focus on the music.’ 

The thing tugging you back, pulls you up. 

Your back slams against the tree like thing you saw his past victims tangled in. 

Your ankles and wrists are the next thing to be tied. You think back to your past experiences and the little knowledge you have, if you can talk to this thing maybe distract it, you can make it out. 

“You only go for one person at a time. Why now? Why try and speed up the process?” 

“You will join me,” he lifts his hand in the air, lingering above your face. 

Your time is running out. 

Your heart rate speeds, you know what’s going to happen. 

-

C'mon, angel, c'mon, c'mon, darling,

-

“She will join me.” 

“No. I won’t let that happen.”

 -

Let's exchange the experience, oh

 -

Your body floats up into the air, out of reach for anyone to try and help you- save you. 

The others call out for you, you can almost hear them. 

Your heart breaks more and more as you continue to lose your breath. 

‘I can’t die. I can’t die. Not now. Think. THINK.’

 -

And if I only could,

 -

The hand slowly inches closer to you. “It’s time for you… to join me.” 

You shake your head, moving it around so it can’t get a hold of you. 

Something- or what you can assume is a piece of the tree wraps around your throat, forcing you to stay still. 

You struggle to breath, the tentacle like thing continues to wrap around your throat, constricting your airway in a similar manner as a boa constrictor would. 

You think back to the night before.

 -

I'd make a deal with God,

And I'd get him to swap our places,

 -

You glance away from the sleepy boys on the couch. “You wrote letters for everyone?” You ask your sister, unable to sleep. 

You’ve been watching her scribble down whatever she needed to since the first letter, but you didn’t want to say anything, knowing she had some things she had to get off her chest. 

“Are you gonna judge me, if I say yes?” 

“Of course, not… I just- I hope you didn’t write me a letter.” 

She doesn’t say anything as she puts the letters into envelopes. 

“You didn’t need to do that. There’s nothing you could have said to change the way I feel care about you. I understand the letter to Billy, God knows how many times I wrote something in a journal I found lying around. It did help me, but it only did so much,” you shake your head, wiping your cheeks. “If there’s something you want to tell me. I want you to say it to my face, Maxine.” 

She remains quiet as she sets another letter off to the side. 

You wrap an arm around her shoulder and lean your head on hers. “I’ve been seeing the clock too.” 

She turns to look at you, “what?” 

“I know you heard me.” 

“Why didn’t you say anything?” 

“It’s Hawkins,” you offer as a weak excuse. 

You shrug your shoulders, “I don’t know. I didn’t think anything of it. I was too busy on saving up so you could spend the last few years of your teen years living in a nice house. I want you to be happy and I know that everything with Billy has screwed you up for life but, you deserve happiness.” 

You tear up as you reach for her hand, “that’s all I ever wanted for the two of you. Billy,” you take a deep breath, so you don’t start crying. 

Tears trickle down your cheeks at a faster pace. “Billy’s gone and- and I like to think that he’s- that he finally found it. I hope, so much that he’s found his happiness and that he’s not suffering anymore. It was all I ever wanted for him and I’m holding onto that hope for you.” 

“What about you?” 

“What about me?” 

“What about your happiness? What makes you happy?”  

 -

Be running up that road,

Be running up that hill,

With no problems.

 -

“What makes you happy?”

 -

Seeing my sister act like a kid… 

“Please don’t tell me you’re going to scare your friends with that costume,” you lean in the doorway of yours and Max’s shared room. 

“It’s not Halloween if you aren’t scared at least once.” 

You nod with pursed lips, “if that’s what you say.” 

“Oh, like you’re not gonna go and find Steve.” 

You rush into the room, closing the door behind you. “Shh, don’t say his name.” 

“Why? You afraid you say it and he’ll magically appear.” 

“I’m gonna get you.” 

“Afraid I can’t stay any longer. There are candy bars with my name on them.” Max runs by you and opens the door to find Billy standing there. 

“At least let me walk you to the front door, Max,” you say, stopping the staring contest between you and Billy and Max and Billy. 

She shakes her head, “it’s fine.” 

“Max,” you sigh. You smack his shoulder, “why do you have to be such a jerk?” 

“She’s old enough to walk herself to the door.” 

“She is still a child.” 

“She’s old enough to know better.” 

“Would it kill you to be nice to her?” 

He says nothing as he walks to his room, shutting the door. 

You knew he was acting out because of your father again.

 -

My brother having a heart of gold… 

“If he-” 

You shush him. “Nothing is going to happen, alright? He doesn’t hit on me, if anything Steve hits on almost anything with two legs…almost like you.” 

He takes the cigarette out of his mouth, blowing the smoke out the window. “I don’t do that.” 

“The looks you get from the moms and girls our age would say otherwise but sure,” you pat his shoulder. “You keep thinking that.” 

He tosses the cigarette somewhere before turning to you, giving you his full attention. “If the king of partying-” 

“I’m pretty sure you have that title now.” 

“Don’t interrupt me.” 

“Okay.” 

“If that dude- I said don’t interrupt me. If he acts like a jerk or makes you upset or cry, I’m gonna hunt him down and kick his ass.” 

The corners of your lips tug upwards, “I don’t think that’s going to happen but, I’m glad to know I have you in my corner.” You slide closer to your brother so you can hug him, “William.” You scramble to get out of the car. 

He leans down to look through the window so he can see where you are as he shouts to you, “I told you not to call me that!” 

“It’s your name.” You chuckle and watch as your “big, bad” brother drives away.

 -

Your sister having friends she knows she can count on… 

Max plops onto her bed with her friend El. 

“Looks like you two had fun,” you comment, flipping your record to the B side. 

“Don’t make this a big deal.” 

“I’m not. I’m happy to see you two had fun, that’s all.”

 -

“Lucas tried to give me a ticket for the basketball game.” Max kicks her foot off the ground, slowly riding her skateboard. 

You nod, “you gave it back?” 

“I’m not in the mood to see a stupid basketball game.” 

You sigh, “maybe next time you can get two tickets.” 

“Why?” 

“So, I can go with you and then we can both cheer for your boyfriend.” 

“He’s not boyfriend.” 

“Okay… but that doesn’t mean he’ll stop caring about you.” 

“What about you and Steve?” 

“Stop bringing him up. You always do this to me. It’s mean.” 

“I asked a question.” 

“And I’m not answering it.”  

 -

The boys asleep on the couch “watching” over her.

 -

Seeing that stupid smile on his face your friends face… 

Steve walks around the register to lean against the counter, “what did I do to see you today?” He smiles, tilting his head to the side. 

“I think she’s here to talk to someone who has decent taste in movies, dingus,” Robin adds, ruining his whole “flirty” vibe. 

He grumbles before moving to restock one of the shelves near the front of the store. 

“He’s been waiting to do that ever since we started,” Robin whispers to you. 

You shake your head and smile, “I’ll believe it when I see it.” 

“You see it every time you walk by him. He gets all smiley and,” she fake gags. “Charming, or at least that’s what he calls it. Personally, I don’t see it.” 

“I think he’s just a smiley person.” 

Steve leans against the counter again, “who’s a smiley person?” 

“Robin.” 

He and you furrow your brows. 

“Really?” he asks. 

“You’ve never seen her in her element?” 

“Oh yeah? And when’s that?” 

You turn to look at her with wide eyes. “When she’s… being herself. Yep.” 

“Really?” The two ask. 

“Yeah,” you become more confident with your answer. “If you can be yourself no matter who you’re with, that’s awesome.” 

“I don’t know if I should be flattered or frightened,” says Robin. 

“Don’t be scared.” 

“I didn’t say scared.” 

“Same thing,” Steve and you say at the same time. 

She chuckles and turns to help a customer. 

“So,” he says, extending the O. 

You turn to face him, “yes, Steven.” 

“How many times do I have to tell you, it’s Steve.” 

He sees the expression on your face. “You’re messing with, right. Anyway, you have plans tonight?” 

“You know I do.” 

“Max is a strong, independent kid-” 

“If you finish that sentence with “who can take care of herself” your old nickname that involves one of your best features “hair” will no longer be one of your best features.” 

A smile tugs at the corners of his lips, he leans in closer to you, “you think one of my best features is my hair?” 

“You tell us-” 

“Her more than me,” Robin interrupts. 

“You tell me that all the time. Of course, I’m not gonna forget that.” 

“What are my other features you find amazing?” 

“Whoa, down boy. I never said that,” you say with a chuckle. “I think it was implied.” 

“Oh, really?” You lean in closer to him. Steve pauses, gulping, “yeah.” He clears his throat to get rid of his voice crack, “yeah.” You pull away, “your voice crack says otherwise, Stevie.” His cheeks flush into a light pink. “Stevie?” You shrug, “I don’t know. It sounds good.” “It does,” he replies with a grin on his lips.

 -

If I only could,

 -

“Fight it!” Max continues to shout. 

“Listen to the music!” Dustin and Lucas shout. 

“Come on. Come on. Come back to us,” Steve mumbles. ‘Come back to me.’

 -

I'd make a deal with God,

And I'd get him to swap our places,

 -

You can still faintly hear the song, “Running Up That Hill” echoing all around you as it mixes with Max’s screams, begging you to fight Vecna. 

You can’t die. 

It’s not your time. 

You have to go back. 

“No!” You turn your head and tug your wrists out of the binds. You drop from the tree, almost tripping over your feet. You push yourself up and run, run past the creature, past the other victims. You charge for the opening. 

Vecna continues to use its magic to try and keep you there. 

The ground turns into a red liquid and you know what it is. 

You struggle to run through the liquid the blood splashes around you as rocks, other large pieces of terrain, and sticks fall around you and your path. 

Your lungs burn, cheeks puffing with every breath you take as fear and adrenaline course through your veins, pushing you onward. 

You take large steps, moving your legs as fast as you can, the ache and piercing pain in your side isn’t enough to stop you. 

So, you keep running, for your sister, for your friends (young and old), your survival, and for Billy.

 -

Be running up that road,

Be running up that hill,

With no problems.

 -

You feel arms wrap around you, holding you close. 

It feels like there’s something hard under your legs but there’s something warm and soft behind you. 

You open your eyes and see Max kneeling in front of you. You know you’re sitting on the ground. 

Max can’t wait anymore and dives for you, wrapping her arms around your waist. 

You wrap one arm around her shoulders and your free hand settles at the top of her neck, near the base of her skull. 

The both of you hold each other tightly, both still scared out of your minds. 

You can feel your shoulder get wetter the longer you hug her. 

You sniff, taking in a deep breath as Dustin and Lucas wrap their arms around you, more than relieved to see you here in the land of the living.  

 -

If I only could,

Be running up that hill

 -

“Okay, I need to get up before my ass goes numb,” you say. 

The two young boys push themselves away, brushing the dirt off them as they pretend you all didn’t have an emotional hug. 

Max reluctantly pushes herself off you. 

The warmth you felt behind you disappears, Steve bends down with one arm around your waist, the other holding your hand. “Come on, up you go.” 

Your throbs for a second, you know you stood up too fast. Steve keeps a hold of you, making sure you don’t fall. 

He guides you towards the backseat as the others settle in, Dustin in the front, Lucas and Max in the back. 

“Thanks,” you whisper to him, out of breath suddenly as you glance over at him. 

“What this? Yeah, no problem. I’ll always help you.” He still manages to flash you one of those stupid charming smiles. 

Your lips part ever so slightly, your chest rises with every deep breath you take. 

The driver side door opens and you two hear Dustin. “Hurry up, we need to go find Nancy and Robin. Not watch you two almost make out. Chop chop.” 

“Right,” Steve mutters. 

You sit down beside Max, who immediately scooches closer to you. 

You wrap your arm around her shoulder, resting your head on hers. 

You catch Steve’s eyes in the rear-view mirror before he looks away to start the car and drive to your guy’s next location.

 -

If I only could,

Be running up that hill

[ya-so-im-here]

Deathday [Larry x Ahkmenrah]

Writer: Me, I have it published under my Wattpad account TheNinjaOfCake22

Fandom: Night at the Museum

Ship: Larry Daley x Ahkmenrah

Link: https://www.wattpad.com/1122938301-deathday-larry-x-ahkmenrah-one-shot-deathday/page/6

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

The sun had set and on queue Larry Daley felt the life return to the exhibits around him, changing from still wax figures to living people he called family.

Jed and Octavius spent little to know time rushing down from their separate exhibits towards the main area along with more of their friends and used the computer, it was something they had loved since Larry showed them how it worked.

Teddy rode off as usual to pick up Sacajawea from her room with Louis and Clark who since the glass had broke had an open exhibit allowing Teddy and Sacajawea to spend every night together.

Attila was seen with Dexter the two were with the rest of the Huns by Rexie. All had seemed right and normal like every night till Larry realized the one person he was always excited to see was missing from the usual night commotion.

Ahkmenrah wasn't there.

As predictable as it may seem, everyone always gathered in the main area and would spread out throughout the night, everyone would get together. Especially Ahkmenrah he was never late.

Fear and a dreading feeling began to form in Larry's stomach as he doubled and tripled check for the pharaoh, but he wasn't there.

A nagging feeling whispered in his head saying something was wrong as he began to make his way up the stairs. 'He's probably talking to someone or taking his time. There is no need to worry' he told himself but he continued on his way to Ahkmenrah's sarcophagus.

"Ahkmenrah?!" Larry called out as he made his way down the hall and towards the doorway to the pharaoh's chamber.

But there was no reply, so he called out again... no reply. He told the panicking feeling to go away he had just seen him last night and all was alright. Perhaps he's somewhere in the museum talking with the others.

'There is no need to worry'

Nonetheless he called out once more as he turned the corner and entered the Egyptian's room. "Ahkmenrah?!"

Larry walked straight to the display where his sarcophagus lay in the center of the back of the room right before the Tablet of Ahkmenrah.

Upon approach Larry looked within and saw the still body of Ahkmenrah, and instantly his heart stopped out of fear.

He reached out his hand and placed it on the pharaoh's shoulder and instantly he opened his eyes meeting Larry's worried gaze.

Larry exhaled softly seeing his friend all right and smiled lightly, but as he examined him closer he realized how still he was. He wasn't moving, didn't even smile when Larry came up and Ahkmenrah always smiled when Larry approached.

     "Hey are you alright?" He asked nervously as he kept his hand on Ahk's shoulder.

Ahkmenrah's jaw clenched and squinted lightly before he attempted a smile that failed to form. Now he definitely had something to worry about, Ahk went to open his mouth ad gasped sharply for air. "Larry" he whispered softly but before he could finish his sentence Larry had padded his shoulder and stood up straight.

"I'll be right back, okay? One moment" and he started out of the room as he heard another attempted whisper "Larry" but he was already in search for Teddy, Teddy would have answers.

Larry went turning corners quickly but not trying to cause any worry, even though he never seemed so scared before. 'Was the tablet failing?' the thought made his stomach drop, how could he live without them? they're his family and to live without Ahk, it just wasn't possible.

Bounding around a corner he noticed the swish of Texas' tail as Teddy rounded another corner, Larry just barely missing him. With a quick sprint the nightguard turned the corner and there was Teddy and Sacajawea riding Texas as they tended to do each night.

"Teddy!" Larry shouted out catching the past president's attention as well as Sacajawea's. "Something's wrong with Ahkmenrah, he's not moving and won't say anything" granted he said his name, but nothing to explain the situation. Teddy's cheerful smile fell as Sacajawea looked down both of them full of knowing.

"It's June 21st" mumbled Teddy in sorrow Wea nodded confirming his statement.

"What does that have to do with anything? What does that mean?" Larry asked looking between the two for answers. Texas turned around so that Teddy and Wea faced the night guard as they explained.

"Well Laurence, while most people marked their calender's of the day of their birth, we here mark our calender's of the day of our death." He paused a moment allowing Larry to comprehend what was being said "Today my boy, is June 21st the day our dear pharaoh died all those years ago, by the hands of none other then his own brother Kahmunrah." Teddy exhaled softly before he continued "On each of our own Deathday's we experience our deaths all over again as though it's the first time. But unlike before when death swept us away from the pain, we experience it all night, until morning when we turn back." finished explaining Teddy, who's mind had traveled to the reminder of his own death day.

Larry stood there in silence comprehending all he had heard, how had he not known about Deathday's surely someone had to have had their deathday while he was there, was he just oblivious to it? "Is there anything that can be done to help?' he asked hoping the answer was yes.

"The pain of death lasts all night nothing can stop it till the day is done, what we usually do is keep each other company on those days, no matter how one died no one should go through it again alone." Sacajawea placed her hand into Teddy's clasping is gently remembering nights she helped him on his Deathday and how he was there for her on her deathday.

Larry nodded "Alright then I'll do that..." he began to walk off before he stopped and turned back to the couple on the horse. "Teddy can you..." but before he could finish the 26th president interrupted him

"Don't worry my boy, all will be taken care of. I'll be seeing you tomorrow night" Teddy tipped his hat as they departed on their way once more and Larry began back to Ahk already feeling awful for being gone this long.

Lying in his sarcophagus Ahkmenrah was going through the pain and experience of being slashed into pieces just as he had 4,000 years ago. It was the worst feeling he had ever felt in his live and death, for a fleeting moment he tried to ignore the pain when he saw Larry's concerned and worried face he attempted to smile but the pain was too much. Then he was gone leaving him alone, just as he had been for fifty-four years.

The memories haunted him every day, the fear that when night falls he would go to rise and leave his tomb but be locked in just like before and no one would let him out, that he would once again be forever trapped, and utterly alone.

He could hear them all, the old night guards talking as they passed the hall never daring to enter his room and free him no matter how hard and long he screamed. He would shake and scream hoping just hoping someone would let him out anyone at all.

Then there was something different the old voices of the night guards were replaced with one young voice, and soon the entire museum was truly alive. He could hear them walking around, doing their own thing, talking to one another.

He was angry with himself when he dared let his hopes rise that perhaps the new night guard would let him out. Nights past and nothing no one freed him, he even heard another say he would never get out.

Like before his hopes were crushed, but he screamed nonetheless he wouldn't give up. Just the slightest chance someone might take pity on him and let him go, was all he held onto.

Then it happened he heard the night guard and he was coming towards him, Ahkmenrah screamed. Screamed as loud as he could he wanted out, please he begged let this be the moment he'd be free.

When he heard the sound of the locks being removed he never felt so excited in all his life. As soon as the last lock was gone he pushed with all his strength forcing the lid of his sarcophagus to fly through the air and hit the wall.

He was free.

And there standing before him, the one who let him out of his afterlife... the new night guard, Larry Daley set him free.

He couldn't well aware explain it, but as soon as he looked upon Larry, something was different. The feeling only grew the longer they were together, on mini adventures or just hanging about in the museum.

Larry Daley was different and Ahkmenrah couldn't help but smile whenever he was near. Now he had wished more then ever he was with him now, just the split second he was and Ahkmenrah wanted to smile even though the pain hurt too much to do so.

His jaw clenched as he felt another sharp pain which over the years he distinguished as a stab wound.

Ahkmenrah closed his eyes out of pain, holding back a cry. As the night went went, it would feel worse it always did. It got to the point he would be choking on his own blood from all the wounds.

"Ahkmenrah?" The pharaoh opened his eyes once more and by his side once again was Larry. His face of concern was still there but so was a face of comfort. As though on queue upon seeing him Ahk had the instinct to smile at him like he always did, even if it hurt too much to actually do so.

Larry placed one had on Ahk's shoulder and the other on his hand, he could feel the cold sweats that covered the pharaoh's body. "It's okay, I'm here for you" the night guard stated.

Ahkmenrah attempted to open his mouth to protest, as night guard Larry had a job to do; but before he could get any words out he was interrupted.

"Don't worry, Teddy told me all about deathday just know that I'm here for you all night " whispered Larry affectionately. His eyes were gentle and while concern was still there, comfort and kindness was the expression he wore on his face so evidently. Ahk closed his eyes for a second gathering his strength before attempting to speak again.

"Larry..." he mumbled meekly "I'm fine. You have...a job..." he gasped sharply feeling the pain of another stab wound pierce through him. He still remembered the day his brother betrayed him, the pain of death seemed less then the pain of betrayal and heart break.

"Teddy has it all under control, tonight I'm here with you. You shouldn't have too experience this alone, I won't allow it" Ahkmenrah gently shook his head to the best of his ability.

"I've done this alone... for fifty-four years." he paused a moment exhaling "I'm used to it... at this point..." he finished gently. He didn't mean it as a martyr, but it was true he'd experienced his deathday alone in his sarcophagus for years.

Larry shook his shoulder gently catching the pharaoh's attention once more "Well, I'm here to end that streak" he responded kindly. Even though it hurt Ahkmenrah smiled, it was much weaker then his usually bright and vibrant smile that Larry loved so much, but he still smiled and Larry loved it nonetheless.

Ahk was at most times unable to speak other then a few words here and there, making conversation light with little responses from Ahkemenrah mostly leaving it up to Larry. The conversations were small topics, but it helped keep Ahk distracted...mostly. The feeling of being stabbed over and over again, the feeling gets worse with each stab, at this point he knew when and where each stab would appear; it was ingrained into his memory.

But this night was different and more special then Larry probably knew, Ahk would find himself forgetting the next wound which left him unexpected of the jolt of pain, but there's something worse and more painful when one is expecting the pain then when it's unexpected.

"I keep telling Erica that I have moved on and that I'm not still clinging to our marriage, but she doesn't believe me" said Larry mildly annoyed "Just this weekend when I went to pick up Nicky, she brought it up all over again, I honestly thought she was done." he shook his head.

Ahk eyed him closely before attempting a mumble "What was the...issue?" he breathed out lightly

"She said 'How do I know you moved on when you haven't dated anyone since the marriage' she just kept saying 'when was last you have an actual relationship with someone other then me' I... I don't know. I'm probably overreacting, so what if I haven't had a relationship since her. She was the once who decided to leave first no wonder she got remarried first." Larry exhaled sharply attempting to release all the negative energy. Then he turned down and looked at Ahkmenrah who was watching him intently and Larry couldn't help but notice his cheeks flush.

"I'm sorry..." he stumbled out "I'm rambling, you don't want to hear this" he went to stand up to calm his nerves, but his face seemed to be determined to remain flushed as the pharaoh made direct eye contact with the night guard, neither daring to break it.

Larry felt the heat from Ahk's hand grab his, it was comforting but it also felt different from the way Larry had been holding his. Though Larry was nervous to admit it, it felt the way that Erica would hold his hand back when they were in "love". But it also didn't feel the same, it felt more personal. Oh what was he doing, Ahkmenrah was a pharaoh, royalty he didn't feel the same way as Larry.

Hell. Larry wasn't sure what it was he was feeling, though he had to admit it would explain a lot about their relationship. Could he... could Larry Daley be in love with Ahkmenrah?

He looked at the pharaoh's gaze that held so tightly and Larry knew... He loved him.

Though weak Ahk held tight the best he could to Larry Daley's hand, listening to his conversation about Erica, well... it kept him attentive. Larry never did mention anyone romantically in all the time they knew each other and Ahkmenrah had to admit he always hoped he was the reason Larry never was with anyone else.

All the moments and time they spent together, hell back to when they first met. Larry was the first person to release him from his sarcophagus, he trusted him and they went on the journey to save his tablet. Maybe he was just overthinking everything, but Ahkmenrah knew he loved Larry Daley, he was worried that it wasn't both ways.

"Sometimes...love is hard to understand" rasped out Ahk still holding to Larry's gaze as well as his hand "Maybe, not all love..." he paused, maybe he shouldn't continue if he did the night guard was bound to understand his intentions. He could pretend to be in pain and escape the atmosphere he created, but as he looked at Larry he didn't think "Maybe, not all love...is conventional" he saw a flicker in Larry's eyes, he didn't know what it meant but it made Ahk's heart bound.

Larry was not sure what he was about to do, but he was going to do something. Not only did he fully realize he in fact did love Ahkmenrah, but that he felt the same about him! Larry's heart felt as though he was pounding out of his chest, he had to do something as a response, he was going to do something...

The pharaoh broke eye contact as he shut his eyes tight in pure pain, the night had been getting on and it was nearing it's end which meant the true, awful, agonizing pain was beginning. The final round of stab wounds impeded its way into his body "Slashed to pieces" just like on that night all those years ago. Ahkmenrah gasped out in pure agony breaking the ere about them, as the young Pharaoh coughed out and like every Deathday, he choked on his own blood.

It was the worse sound Larry had ever heard in his life, one second the two were exploring their hearts and the next the man he loved was gasping out and choking on his own blood. The sound of the blood stuck in his throat echoed throughout the chamber, both statues of Anubis looked over at their Pharaoh but they knew there was nothing to do but wait till morning.

Larry knelt down closer to Ahkmenrah and held his hand tightly "It's okay, we're almost to morning then this will all be over." comforted the night guard, he held tight to the pharaoh's hand holding it in both of his, he brought the hand to his face and kissed his knuckles gently "I'm here with you, okay? You're not in this alone, I'm right here" soothed Larry as he watched the scene before him.

Ahkmenrah was entirely loss to the pain, he heard Larry's words but there was no way he would respond, he couldn't smile back. His eyes would open and close with each other gasp for air as his lungs filled with blood. His hand squeezed tight to Larry's as it was the only thing he could do as memories of the night returned.

Kamunrah stood before him, knife in hand as he stabbed, slashed, and cut into his body. There was no mercy, no regret, nor sorrow as he stabbed him seventy-three times. Tears filled Ahkmenrah's eyes from the pain of death and from the pain of brotherly betrayal, his tears formed then now as Larry held his hand. He gasped out as tears fell down his cheeks. How desperately he tried to grasp air but every gasp and attempt he made lead only to the drowning in his lungs. The Anubis statues moved retaking their proper form as Ahk gasped out once more then all was still.

The sun had risen and all went back to sleep, Ahkmenrah's eyes had closed slowly as he turned back into a mummy right before Larry's own eyes just reminding him what happens every night as the sun rises. Larry closed up the sarcophagus, leaving the pharaoh to rest till night. The image of Ahkmenrah in such pain etched into his brain, the gasp for air lingered in his ears as he made his way towards the exit of the chamber. Larry looked back behind him at the now resting sarcophagus then left the chamber.

The museum was asleep as though the night before it wasn't full of vibrant and energetic life, soon people would be coming in starting their jobs and opening the museum to the public. The night guard walked throughout the museum making sure everything went well that night, that all were in place and ready in the morning.

Like Teddy said all was taken care of. Larry went to the locker and hung up his coat and flashlight he would be back again tonight, but he felt he couldn't wait. All he could think of was Ahkmenrah, the pharaoh had completely taken over his brain, but he needed to head home try to catch a couple of hours of sleep before his next shift.

The day went by what seemed much slower then the night did, even though he slept for several hours he still found himself waiting and it felt too long of a wait. He couldn't help himself Larry wanted to see Ahk, so he arrived a bit early for his shift.

Since there was still roughly an hour before he would come in Larry found himself wandering the halls and rooms of the museum, he knew them like the back of his hand at this point. He knew who was supposed to be where, just how many steps it took to get to the room over. These exhibits were his friends and seeing them in the morning hours when they were still and asleep he couldn't help but feel lonely.

Too anyone else they were just exhibits of the past, but to Larry they were his family and friends and how he wished he could see them not only at night, but that he could leave the museum and hang out with them, but he knew that wasn't possible.

"Aren't we early tonight" stated Dr. McPhee rolling on the balls of his feet, catching Larry's attention.

"Ya I bit, nothing else to do, thought I'd just look around" responded Larry gesturing towards Sacajawea's exhibit as she stood next to Louis and Clark.

"Don't you just 'look around' all night?" asked McPhee

"Yep" Larry nodded "Yes I do"

McPhee nodded slowly, looked about him at the exhibits then back to Larry. "Well, we're beginning to close up so feel free to get your shift started" he finished before leaving the room, as he himself was ready to go home for the night, the same way Larry felt he was going home for the night.

Larry went back to his locker grabbing his coat and flashlight, but instead of going to the front entrance of the museum he made his way straight to the tomb of Ahkmenrah, walked past the Anubis statues and stood near sarcophagus and there he waited.

It didn't feel like a particularly long wait, for it wasn't long before he heard creaking too his right. He turned his head to look at the owner of the noise and he watched as the Anubis statues woke from their sleep, one even yawning like that of a jackal before both turned their large heads and faced Larry; eyeing him closely. They knew he had been there even in sleep they guarding the pharaoh, they didn't attack the night guard anymore like how they used too, but they still kept an eye on him whenever he was near.

Larry had to admit he was glad that the Anubis were too large to leave the chamber otherwise he knew they would follow Ahk around the entire museum and Larry wouldn't dare getting as close as he tended to with the Pharaoh with the two watching him at all times.

His thoughts were soon interrupted as he heard another creak, one of gold sliding against gold. Larry quickly turned his attention away from the statues and towards the sarcophagus instead, he went to go and help open it up, but within seconds sitting straight up from the resting place was Ahkmenrah in all his glory and beauty. Larry had to admit, Ahkmenrah was possibly the most beautiful man in the world and the world didn't even know that.

Ahk looked over at Larry already knowing or expecting the night guard to be there, Larry didn't know which. Rising from his sarcophagus Ahkmenrah approached Larry just as he did every night not a sign showing what he had been through the previous night.

"If I hadn't seen it myself last night I wouldn't have known just what it was you had gone through" Larry laughed lightly as Ahk approached him with his signature smile Larry was so fond of.

"Thank you" stated Ahk locking eyes with Larry just as they had done last night "I've always had those nights alone, I'm very thankful that you were there. You have no idea what it meant to me" neither broke eye contact, both reading each other. They both shared the fear that perhaps all they imaged last night was false and they didn't truly see each other the way they hoped.

"You should have told me sooner, I would have been by your side in seconds" both hearts were pounding within their chests, hands clammed from nerves as they waited on who would be the first to make a move towards what they both wanted.

"I didn't know if you wanted to be by my side" confessed Ahk

Larry laughed lightly as a broad smile crossed his face "Your side is the only one I want to be by" he confessed.

Ahkmenrah stepped forward much closer now, closer then they had ever been before they were nearly touching. Touching chests, noses, lips...

"And I by yours" stated Ahk as the two gently crossed the distance and kissed lightly, it was sweet and mildly hesitant as both were nervous, but when they pulled back they were both smiling fools. "I've waited for this moment for quite awhile" chuckled Ahk as he cupped a hand on Larry's cheek.

Larry leaned into his hand as their foreheads touched and pressed together, both nearing to kiss once again.

"Gigantor!" Larry closed his eyes lightly then looked down at the origin of the voice, Jed was down below on the ground next to Octavius. "That was the most peck of a kiss I've ever seen!" Larry's cheeks grew flushed, as Ahkmenrah laughed lightly.

"You can do better Larry" encouraged Octavius

"Ya, you can! The Pharaoh deserves better!" shouted out Jed giving Ahk a thumbs up "Here Gigantor like this!" Jed grabbed hold of Octavius giving him a deep and passionate kiss before pulling away and looked back up at Larry "See!?" he shouted up.

"Yes Larry, like that" teased Ahkmenrah with a smile that spread across his whole face.

"Okay I think I get it, I'll do better." responded Larry sarcastically as Ahk grabbed his cheek once more and kissed him, deeper and more passionately then they did the first time and when they pulled apart both were grinning, mildly short of breath.

"Much better" breathed out Ahkmenrah smiling fondly at Larry still cupping his face in his hand.

As I’ve said recently I’ve found myself back into this ship and they will not leave my mind so I had to write this fic, especially after I found the headcanon about everyone reliving their deaths every year. it just came together so well.

[miraculouscontent]

"Please, get out of my room."

Marinette's hand shook, trying desperately to keep the doll house behind her together enough to protect the Miracle Box. Her gaze fixed on her friends standing there, Rose crouched down to the sad remains of the doll house's roof while the others were looking on in concerned confusion.

Alya stepped forward first, the request apparently denied. "It's nothing, Marinette. We'll help you fix it, don't worry."

Except it wasn't nothing, it was everything, and of course none of the girls could've known that it was everything but it was. She'd barely had the Miracle Box for any time at all and now she was about to be exposed, the doll house feeling like some sort of metaphor for her life.

Raising her voice, Marinette replied strictly, "It's not nothing! Now leave!"

Most of the girls just stared at her, standing awkwardly in place. She asked - no, told - them to leave, and they weren't leaving. Why weren't they leaving?

Her palms were sweaty, making the task of holding up the doll house's wall all the more anxiety-inducing.

Alya huffed, her hands tightening into fists at her sides. "Okay, there's obviously something up—" She crossed her arms. "—and we're not going anywhere until you tell us what it is."

Mylene offered a smile that she clearly thought was reassuring, then held up a bracelet made of yellow threads with five colored beads along them. "We've already given our secrets to this bracelet, so now it's your turn."

Marinette wracked her brain for any memory of said bracelet, wondering if there were a promise she'd forgotten about - wondering if it was an excuse for them showing up out of nowhere - but there was nothing. She didn't even recognize it. Even over the voicemail they'd sent, there was no mention of such a thing.

The wall under her palm wavered, and she had to adjust quickly to keep it in place. She couldn't tell if it was too light or too heavy at this point, but it was ultimately just another thing to worry about that she didn't need. Her gaze flickered to it briefly to make sure it was properly held up, then swiftly focused back on the girls so as to not seem suspicious.

They really weren't going to leave. They were going to force her secrets out of her; force Ladybug out of her, the Miracle Box, everything.

Her stress levels were rising. She was panicking. It was all too much, and she—she...

She snapped.

"I'll—I'll tell you what's wrong!" she began. "You all walking into my room without my permission!"

The girls' mouths all shut in unison, their shoulders tense as they seemed suddenly lost for an argument.

"I didn't want to talk to you, and I definitely don't now!" A particular memory of the voicemail resurfaced, and she was reminded of what they'd said. "I thought you told me that I could talk where and when I wanted to? I thought all of you told me that, and then you showed up anyway?! Why would you lie to me like that?"

The words were bitter, only serving to make her angrier; at them, at herself, and at the whole situation. She hated lying - hated liars - and there was a part of her that couldn't help feeling hypocritical when she had to lie constantly to keep her identity secret.

But another part of her was quick to point out: she lied because she had to. They were lying despite having the choice.

Alya's brows furrowed, and it was hard to tell if she felt genuinely guilty or if she was just trying to think of how save the situation. She glanced back and forth from Marinette to Mylene, then hurriedly took the bracelet and held it out, arguing, "But if we're friends, you have to tell us everything anyway!"

Rose nodded in agreement, fists drawn up to her chest. "And real friends never let each other down!"

Marinette sputtered at first in response, multiple rambling responses trying to come out at once, from reminding them of either their intrusion or their lying to say that they had very much let her down.

Finally, her mouth settled on, "Then I guess we're not friends after all, since I'm letting you down so much! You're always pushing me, and setting things up even when I told you not to, and when everything goes wrong, it's always me who takes the blame, and me who gets teased for it!"

Alix recoiled at the outburst, then averted her gaze, looking somewhere between put off and ashamed as she grumbled, "We were just trying to help."

"I don't want your help! I don't even want you here!"

Marinette breathed shakily, her chest heavily at the emotions building in her chest. She could barely process what was coming out of her mouth and could only wonder how long she'd felt that way. How long had she been holding this in? How much had she been holding in? How long had she thought she deserved to be treated a certain way and took everything like she was the one at fault even if she'd done nothing?

Mental clarity kicked in, Marinette glaring and resolve blazing in her eyes as she asked, "Do you know why I didn't tell you anything?"

They looked on in curious trepidation, obviously not knowing the answer. At first, maybe she hadn't either.

"Because I didn't want you to meddle! Everything just goes wrong and I wanted to just live without worrying about it! I didn't want to  be teased, or talk about Adrien, or be ignored!"

"We don't ignore you!" Alya immediately interjected, taking on an offended tone. "That's why we're here!"

"Then why didn't you know?" Marinette challenged. "You noticed my crush on Adrien, but you didn't notice that I was dating Luka? When he was riding me home from school? When you took all those pictures of us together? I wanted to be left alone to be happy with him without anyone shouting at me about what to do and putting more pressure on me than I already have!"

Rose and Alya shifted in place, not making eye contact.

"You invaded my privacy, you broke my things, and you lied to me! If you're going to make me tell you everything, then—then—" She shook, the tornado of emotions hard to handle. "—then I don't want you as friends! Now get out!"

The girls collectively gaped at her, a few letting out audible gasps and Rose in particular covering her mouth with her hands. Everything went quiet, and Marinette's eyes must've been giving off fire with how any argument lingering on the girls' lips died before they could even come out.

Then, one by one, the girls began to turn and silently walk out of the room, some staying a second or two longer as if Marinette would change her mind if they held to the staring contest a bit longer. Alya was the last one out, her gaze darting up to Marinette one last time in vain.

Marinette just looked away, only reassured that the girls had left when she heard the click of the trap door. She exhaled, her arms stiff and her legs feeling like jelly as everything hit her at once. The gravity of the situation dragged her to the floor, the walls of the doll house falling apart to reveal the Miracle Box to no one but her and the kwami. She'd already cried too many times that day, but the tears were building up again. Anger, sadness, frustration...

Seeing Tikki hover close out of the corner of her eyes, Marinette lamented, "I didn't know what else to do. I didn't have a choice. I was just—and then—and they..."

"I know, Marinette," Tikki said quietly, though it was clear that she had very little comfort to add.

Marinette tried to steady her breathing, but she could see her tears falling onto the floor and knew that she'd lost control of her emotions. In a way, it almost felt relieving, like a weight off her chest that she didn't know had been there, but it didn't stop the terrible feelings from everything that happened that day, and the day before, and the day before that...

"We—" Marinette choked, realizing something and looking up with urgency. "Shadow Moth. He might come after me."

"Ah, but..." Tikki weakly tried to protest, watching as Marinette tried to force herself up.

"Gotta transform. Gotta be ready," Marinette murmured in a daze, her legs wobbling but managing to hold her up. Not letting Tikki get another word in, she hurried to command, "Tikki, spots on."

— — — — —

Marinette hugged her knees to her chest, back against the wall stretching upwards that helped make the bridge where she broke up with Luka. Part of her felt like coming here was some form of self-punishment - a reminder of what she'd lost and why she had to keep it that way - but another part just wanted to be here. It wasn't a good idea to be in her room where everything went down, or where her pictures were, or where the kwami would just remind her of all the things she didn't want to think about. It wasn't like her parents were going to check on her anyway, so she felt it best to be away from it all.

She tried to listen for the melody of the water that Luka had told her about, but every time she thought things were quiet enough to hear it, she would breathe in a little too hard, or Tikki would shuffle around in her purse at a loss for what to say. Marinette sighed in defeat, curling in on herself further and staring at the ground with her eyes half-lidded.

She wished she could go back; back to the day this whole mess started. Maybe she could've avoided Fu, Chloe, and maybe even Alya. She could've stayed in the background, unoffensive and just known as "the clumsy girl," one who didn't lie and leave class unexpectedly with the worse excuses possible. Avoiding Chloe would've meant avoiding her wrath, which meant that there would've been no misunderstanding with Adrien and no "spark" to ignite her crush underneath that umbrella.

Everything would've been so much easier. Maybe she would've met Luka sooner, bumping into him by accident one day and they'd drop all their things, her sketches mingling with his song sheets. They'd apologize and hurry to separate their stuff, then lock eyes and all would be well with the world. She'd stammer out her name when she introduced herself and he'd tease her affectionately, and it'd be okay because she wouldn't be busy being depressed over another guy.

They'd laugh, they'd get along, and there wouldn't be any drama in the way of them getting together. Without her having any responsibilities that would cause her to run off, they'd date, and they'd just... be happy.

Marinette closed her eyes, trying to let herself indulge in the fantasy even if only for a moment. The hold she had on her legs loosened, her hands sliding down until one of her hands brushed the opposite's wrist. She remembered Viperion - Luka - as the hero who thought first just like her and now could never be because of his identity being compromised, yet another by-product of her crush on Adrien in a way.

She exhaled, her thumb futilely brushing over her wrist; over a bangle that wasn't there.

Second Chance...

She wasn't sure how long she sat there, trying to live in fake memories, but when her eyes opened, she still found herself underneath the bridge in a life she didn't want. She stared blankly at the ground, the melody she'd desired still inaudible to her.

It took her a few seconds to realize that the view in front of her wasn't quite what it was before she closed her eyes, and it took a few more to notice the black distressed pants and the shoes splattered with varying random symbols at the corner of her vision. She blinked, unsure if she was seeing properly and wondering if she might be hallucinating after her fantasy, but a quick glance upward caused her eyes to meet Luka's, the brows above them furrowed with concern.

"A-ah," she let out involuntarily, straightening a little. Finally registering that he was there and very real, she inhaled sharply and stood, waving frantically at him as she stammered, "I-I'm so sorry! This is your spot, and I'm taking your spot, and I swear I didn't mean to—" She bent down and brushed her hands along the ground where she'd been sitting, as if she were cleaning it. "—I'll be gone soon, let me just—"

"It's okay," Luka assured while approaching her, his voice even softer than usual but with a tinge of sadness to it.

She stopped, hesitating, then looked back up at him in confusion. They hadn't talked since their break-up and she genuinely thought that he'd be upset with her.

"I'm glad," he said genuinely, "that you can find as much comfort in this place as I do. You don't have to go anywhere."

"...Oh," she uttered, her shoulders easing in mild relief. At least he didn't hate her, she supposed, though the awkwardness in the air was noticeable and she couldn't help noticing that he was keeping a minimum distance of three meters from her.

It hurt.

She fiddled with the strap of her purse, wondering why he was there and how she could've gotten so unlucky as to—well, that part was obvious actually, she'd been unlucky her whole life, but that didn't stop her from wondering what he was doing there. Was it something about his dad, or...?

Against her better judgment, she took a good look at his face, biting her bottom lip guiltily at the tired look in his eyes. He seemed as if he hadn't slept well in a few days, and she couldn't say that she was any different, which made the reason for his expression all the more obvious. It was a terrible feeling, already feeling bad that she made him feel bad and then feeling worse because there was a part of her that was a little glad to have meant so much to him that the break-up actually affected him.  He'd made her feel noticed and seen, something that was rare even amongst her frie—

Ah. Right.

She fidgeted, her feet shifting nervously against the ground. Juleka had been amongst the friends that she'd called out and forced to leave. She wasn't sure how close Luka was with his sister, as most of the interactions she'd seen were when they were in a group, but she was still his family. Did he know?

As if able to sense what she was thinking, Luka spoke up. "Jule told me."

Marinette winced and looked down, ashamed and fully expecting to be reprimanded. She clasped her hands at her waist, trying to mentally prepare herself.

Then, he immediately followed with, "Well, she mumbled it, but I got what she said."

It wasn't quite a joke, but it wasn't anything critical either. Marinette peeked back up at him, her brows scrunched together in confusion. He was smiling sadly, either understanding her or trying to be the sympathetic empath she'd always admired him for.

She averted her gaze, not feeling worthy of making eye contact with him. Sinking back against the wall, she sunk down to her earlier position and muttered, "I-it was for the best. I'm just... better off alone." She flinched at the sting in her chest that the words caused, but continued, "I won't hurt anyone that way. They can't be disappointed in me if we're not friends."

There was a pause, at which point Luka took a few steps closer, still maintaining a distance between them but also closing the gap significantly. "Why do you think you'll hurt people?"

She almost scoffed at that. "You would know why more than anyone, Luka." Though she still avoided looking at his face, she could see his fingers twitch from the corner of her vision. "I lie. I'm a liar! I'm just—" She spread her arms wide. "—I'm going to lie for the rest of my life, and ditch everyone and make them sad and they'll never know why!"

She'd tried to say it in an exaggerated tone to keep things light, but the tears started up. She held them back as best as she could, determined not to cry again when she'd already cried so much.

She heard Luka take a few steps closer, and he observed quietly, "But you don't want to."

"Of course not! But it doesn't matter! I should've known from the start that making friends was a mistake but I did it anyway!" She covered her face with her hands and shook her head. "I can't keep friends! I can't keep a boyfriend! I can barely keep this secret a secret!"

She didn't have to see his face to know that he was processing that. "...You can't tell me."

It was a realization for him, a mix of emotions in his voice and none of which she could place. She imagined he'd thought that it was a secret she'd chosen not to share with him, but that wasn't true.

She lowered her hands from her face. "I can't. I mean, not like—physically can't—it's not like the world would end if I did—" She halted briefly, stiffening at an unwelcome memory of Paris destroyed and underwater. "—o-or, maybe it would! But, it was never about trust, Luka! I trust you, I trust you so much, and I want to tell you so bad but I can't! It hurts but I can't! No one's supposed to know!"

She clutched her head, realizing that the conversation was spiraling downwards fast. She was torn between thinking that she'd said too much and then regretting how little she'd said when she'd broken up with him.

Luka took the final steps to close the distance between then, kneeling down to be closer to her level. "Marinette, I—I can't imagine what your secret could be, but it hurts watching you tear yourself apart like this."

"Well maybe that's how it's supposed to be!" she declared as she met his gaze, his eyes going wide in a mixture of pain and shock. She blinked rapidly, trying to fight the tears. "Maybe I'm just supposed to stay sad and alone forever! I have to do it all myself because that's the rule and it's my burden to carry!"

His heart was clearly breaking for her and it just made everything worse. He reached out to her, hovering his hand over her shoulder as a test and then settling it down with a feather-light touch when she didn't pull away. "I won't force you to tell me, and it's hard to say anything when I don't know what you're going through, but..." He hesitated, clearly feeling like it wasn't his place to say but being unable to help himself. "Couffaines break rules when we want to - when we know we have to - and I don't want to see you break instead."

She raised a hand, tempted to pull his hand from her shoulder, but stopped herself. "I-I don't have a choice. It's too dangerous. I can't let people close to me; I didn't even want to break up with you. You're amazing and sweet and I feel like I can tell you anything, but..." She looked down, defeated. "...you deserve better than this..."

He squeezed her shoulder, though whether it was a mix of offense at the comment, an attempt to comfort her, or both, she wasn't sure. "I can only tell you that I'd never tell anyone if I knew." He paused, as if to consider something, then added, "Even if it wasn't me - if it was someone else you trusted - I just don't want you to carry this alone."

She glanced up at him without moving her head, her mouth moving to reply but she ended up choking, then coughing in response to the air she'd just lost. Luka's free hand found her other shoulder as he leaned towards her, all the concern and love she could ever ask for being offered in his eyes.

He seemed to want to continue their conversation, but found something else to prioritize instead. "Do you want anything? Have you drank any water lately?"

The question caught her off guard until she remembered her coughing and mentally acknowledged that she might've been neglecting herself far more than she should've. Luka's hearing was on point, and she figured he must've heard the dryness of her throat.

She let out a small noise instead of a reply, no words given but Luka understood anyway. He stood up, his hands lingering on her for as long as possible before he turned and began to head back to the Liberty.

She watched him go, an ache in her chest even if she knew he'd come back. It reminded her of the day in the TV station where he confessed and she hadn't given him an answer, or when he'd comforted her after the break-up and she'd just taken it without a word back. It was all left incomplete, with him merely giving her  that respectful smile that told her that she only had to say what she was ready for.

But ready for what, exactly? Ready to talk? Ready for him?

Ready for herself?

"...I—" Her mouth moved on its own, her body leaning just slightly towards him as she said the words she'd always wanted to. "—I'm Ladybug."

It was practically a whisper - equivalent to a pin dropping - but Luka froze nonetheless, his foot mid-raise to take a step that never came. He'd heard her, and he finally moved as he turned to look at her, expression unreadable.

That's when the moment caught up with her, and the panic followed suit. "O-oh—oh no. Oh, I said it—you know—you—" She clutched at her capris, desperate to ground herself, but the hyperventilating was beginning to start, almost harmonizing with the sound of Luka's footsteps as he hurried over to her, closing the gap between them much faster than he had previously.

In an instant, he was on his knees in front of her, arms wrapped around her and lifting her slightly as he pulled her into a hug. She gasped in surprise, still blinking back tears as her senses registered that he was there: his body heat warming her, the fabric of his jacket against her face, the calming color combination of blues and blacks, and the faded scent of his body wash.

"L-luka," she whimpered, "I'm so sorry. Y-you're in danger—"

"It's okay," he assured softly, then again as if to be certain that she heard it, "It's okay."

She hesitated, her breathing still uneven, but she willed herself to release her capris - her fingers feeling stiff from how tightly she'd gripped them - so she could grab at his jacket instead. He responded in kind by hugging her tighter; too tight for a normal hug but just tight enough to bring her back down to reality.

"You're not alone anymore, Marinette," he whispered, "and I'm not going anywhere. I love you."

That did it, and the tears overflowed. She wrapped her arms around him, clinging to however much fabric her hands could grasp as she buried her face into his shoulder. No matter how strongly she hugged him, he didn't complain, simply letting her take whatever she needed from him.

In the silence of the embrace, she could finally hear the river's melody.

— — — — —

Marinette clasped her hands together on the couch, her breathing starting to steady as she watched Luka pour her fourth cup of water since she'd gotten there, the first three of which she'd downed in mere seconds. It was just the two of them there, which was comforting, as Juleka had apparently gone to Rose's house for the rest of the day and Anarka was... well, Anarka, and wouldn't be back until who knew when.

Luka returned to Marinette with a smile, offering the full cup of water to her. She reached for it, then stopped as she noticed how badly her hand was shaking. Taking a few more controlled breaths, she offered him a smile and gently pushed the cup towards him.

At his confused look, she observed, "You haven't been taking care of yourself either."

He opened his mouth, possibly to argue, then looked away from her, his eyes darting around at nothing. She could see the internal conversation in his head, playing out a scenario where he would try to insist, she would insist back that three cups was more than enough for her and he'd also taken none himself, and they would go back and forth until he relented.

His gaze softened, the conclusion to the mental argument clearly reached as he took a few sips from the cup. Rather than sitting on the couch, he sat down on the wooden table in front of it - a typical Couffaine move - so he could face her. Then, offering her a grateful smile, he asked, "How are you feeling?"

She smiled back at him, but it faltered as she stared at her lap, taking the time to legitimately think about the question. She ran her hands along her legs in a slow motion, hoping that it would stop any shakiness somehow.

"...Scared," she answered. "Nervous. Worried. Anxious." She pursed her lips as she realized that she was just listing off synonyms at that point.

Luka leaned towards her, resting his hand over one of the ones on her lap. "But, better than before?" he guessed.

Eyes half-lidded and fond, she nodded. "Yeah, and..." She turned the hand underneath his upwards so she could hold it. "I'm really glad you're here."

"I'm glad I'm here too," he whispered, as if to make sure that this moment was only for the two of them.

They stayed like that for a while, just enjoying each other's presence. Marinette was a mess of emotions, but refused to let go of the hand he'd offered her, her thumb stroking along the back of it.

"...Luka," she said after a few seconds of contemplation.

He didn't respond verbally, but he'd also already given her his full attention, and she knew he was listening.

She continued, "You're the last person I'd ever want to lose. If Shadow Moth finds out that you know—"

"If," he gently interjected, though his eyes encouraged her to go on.

"He'll use you. He'll take advantage of you. I don't want anything to happen to you, but I don't want you to leave either, because I really like you and you make me happy and better and—" She huffed, frustrated by the conundrum. "It feels like it's my fault. If I was stronger, or I wasn't so emotional, I..."

"Marinette."

She looked up at the tenderness in his voice. He set his cup down on the table, then slowly pushed himself off, crouching down in front of her as if to make himself appear as small as possible. His other hand found her free one and he held it, making their hand holding perfectly mutual.

"Do you remember the day we met? When my mom got akumatized?"

She nodded. "Yeah, of course."

He nodded in return, going on to explain, "You needed me to hide you, and I needed you to go get—" He caught himself, half-chuckling as the identity revelation adjusted his memories of that day. "—be Ladybug."

Marinette managed a smile. "You were covering for me, even back then."

He smiled back, looking almost too proud of that fact. "And we needed each other. No one can do everything alone, Marinette, so don't say you're sorry for the feelings that made up the song that's been stuck in my head ever since that day."

She swallowed involuntarily at the reminder of his confession. Judging from his smile widening, he noticed it.

"It's hard learning an instrument all by yourself," he continued, "and sad not having anyone to play to."

"And you want to be the whole crowd?" she asked quietly, her gaze drawn to their joined hands.

"Yeah," he answered, not missing a beat.

She took a breath, knowing it was too late to change things but still wanting to acknowledge the decision anyway. "O...okay. Thank you, Luka."

They exchanged loving smiles, and Marinette could've sworn that the eye contact alone was keeping her heart rate down. The future was still nerve-wracking, but she'd been afraid of it even before she'd told Luka her secret, so at least now she had someone who understood her and who she could talk to about it.

The conversation mutually ended there, but then Luka - wholly unprompted - let out an exaggerated sigh and tilted his head back. Curious, Marinette asked, "What is it?"

He grinned at her, a glint in his eyes that made it clear that he was in a teasing mood now that the atmosphere had lightened. "Does this mean I have to watch Chat Noir flirt with my girlfriend?"

She snorted, opening her mouth to reply before stopping as the words behind the joke caught up to her. She leaned forward and squeezed his hand, eyes wide with hope. "Girlfriend?"

He nodded without hesitation. "You said you didn't want to break up with me, Marinette, and I didn't want to break up with you either."

"Y-yeah, but—" She frowned, conflicted. "I'll still have to leave? Nothing's changed except you knowing why."

"I didn't date you so that we could go on dates," he replied. When she tilted her head in confusion at him, he briefly averted his gaze, a hint of shyness appearing on his face before he steeled himself up and looked back at her, clarifying, "I just wanted to be your boyfriend, dates or no dates."

"Oh. O-oh." And that was all she had to say about that, any coherent words burned away from the blush forming on her face.

Luka smiled hopefully, and Marinette quickly decided that bashfulness looked good on him. "So, if you want to make this work with me, then—"

"Yes!" she replied immediately, untangling her hands from his so she could push herself off the couch.

His eyes lit up, his arms spreading wide as she dropped into his lap, and he didn't recoil when she arched up to kiss him, her movements quick to ensure that there would've been no chance for them to be interrupted. She wrapped her arms around him, neither caring about the awkward position on the floor due to being lost in each other's touch.

There was a soft click when the kiss broke, Marinette promptly pulling herself against him and nestling her face near his collarbone, now able to properly enjoy the scent she'd missed for all those dreadful days they'd been apart.

Following up on what he'd told her underneath the bridge, she tightened her hold and whispered, "I love you too, Luka."

Snuggled so close to him, she swore that his heartbeat picked up, though she didn't have to feel it to know that he was happy, what with the way his hands shook against her and how he placed an immediate kiss on the top of her head. She let herself get absorbed in the moment, allowing herself to smile and think only of Luka, the one who respected her choices and feelings from the day they met.

There was no one else she'd rather share her identity with.

[ultraintrovertedgryffindor]

Omg I have an angsty request that I’m sure is going to rip my heart out and light it on fire. It’s a super long and specific request so sorry if I get carried away:

Okay so reader had an unspoken thing in the glade with Gally but then he “died” so over the course of the events of scorch trials she got closer with newt and they start their own unspoken thing. But then in the death cure, newt (realizing he has the flare) starts encouraging her to reconcile with gally because he knows that he’s gonna die and gally will take care of her? But she’s confused on who she loves but kinda clings to what she has with newt because he needs her. And she’s just heart b r o k e n over newt dying but gally helps put her pieces back together in the safe haven and eventually they have their fluffy first time together?

Thanks!

*Fanfare* *Triumphant Music* I finally finished this one! Sorry it took a while, I really wanted this to be perfect. But I think I'm quite happy with how this one turned out! I hope you like it too, sweet Anon. Btw, I know you wanted smut, but I just didn't think it would fit with this one. Sorry, maybe on the next one!

Over 5.2k words, so strap in for a long one y'all

Possible Trigger Warning: Self Harm

~~~~~~~~~~

During your time in the Glade, you were practically attached at the hip with Gally.

He was your best friend, your first go to whenever you had any issues, and you were the same to him.

After his supposed death, you felt a void in your soul. You took on a nihilistic attitude, nothing in life making sense anymore. You didn't care about what happened to you or around you, you wished you had died with Gally, the idea of it being welcomed with open arms.

The thought of dying brought no anxiety, no dread. Even the thought of dying painfully didn't scare you, you wanted it. Everyday you thought about that spear going through Gally's chest, wanting to feel what he must've felt. You wanted to feel the same pain and fear, you wanted to feel like you were dying too.

No rational side of you could explain why you felt this way. Perhaps, if you felt the same pain he felt, maybe it would give some sort of closure. Maybe it would make you feel like you were still close to him, even in death.

It wasn't too long before you decided to act on those feelings. You had been only a knife to your chest, right where your heart was, hyping yourself up to push the blade into your skin.

You didn't want to kill yourself, no. You wanted your death to be natural, not forced. You'd suffer your own existence until your time eventually came like it did for everyone else. But Newt didn't know this when he happened upon you that night, just a couple centimeters of a blade shredding its way into your skin.

Newt panicked, immediately stopping your from hurting yourself, his heart racing at the thought of being too late. But thankfully, he wasn't.

You tried to seem somewhat normal, but the laughter bubbling from your chest couldn't be withheld, making Newt fear that you had lost your mind. He wasn't too far off...

He knew how much Gally's death impacted you, he knew you were in pain every second of every day, but he never thought you'd go so far as hurting yourself. He just silently patched you up, fearing anything he would say from a good place would only upset you further.

Eventually, you explained why you had done what you did. It obviously didn't sit right with Newt. He wasn't particularly close with Gally back in the Glade, but he knew well enough that he wouldn't want you to be living with this mindset.

After a while in the Scorch, you stuck by Newt the most and you started to get better. You felt so empty after Gally's death, leaving a hole in your heart. Newt helped lead you out of that void, trying his best to fit that empty space. But you knew nobody could replace Gally, not even Newt. You knew that space could never be filled, but just seeing Newt try to be that person for you, it was too endearing not to pull at what heartstrings you had left.

Then the complications happened, so much time spent believing that Gally was dead came crashing down as he stood in front of you all, very much not dead.

You thought it had to be a dream, could he really be here?

It was strange. You thought you'd run to him, leap into his arms and kiss all over his face, but you didn't. You stood next to your friends awkwardly as he took off his gas mask. To think you'd be more outwardly happy that someone you cared about was still alive. But you couldn't help the guilt that you felt when Gally said that they left him to die. Sure, it might've not been specifically directed to you, but you felt the sharp sting of his words resonate through you. It almost felt like a strong invisible force hit your funny bone, the volt of uncomfortable aching pain spreading throughout your entire body and leaving you in a breathless agony.

For Gally, he was overjoyed to see you alive and well. He so badly wanted to go to you, feel you in his arms again. But he knew he couldn't, how could he after how he treated everyone back in the Glade?

He didn't remember a lot, but he knew he killed Chuck. The blurry memories of that day, he saw it every night in his dreams. He remembered the sound of the gunshot, the sudden pain in his chest and not being able to breathe. He saw Chuck laying beside him, his expressionless eyes trained on the ceiling, unmoving. His chest wasn't rising and falling like it should've been, blood seeping through his layers of clothing. The most purest soul Gally ever met was dead, and it was his fault.

Gally couldn't even bring himself to look in your direction, he was too disgusted with himself.

Thomas punching Gally wasn't a big shock, he knew he deserved it. But Newt quickly came to his rescue, stopping Thomas from acting out irrationally. But a part of Gally didn't want the Greenie to be stopped. Being punched wasn't something he enjoyed, but Gally would willingly endure whatever punishment that would be inflicted and he'd accept that he deserved it. But nothing he could do or say would bring Chuck back...

When Gally did finally force himself to look at you, he wish he hadn't. You looked indifferent, which never happened with you. He instantly thought that you hated him as much as Thomas did, but then again, he deserved it.

It was really tough for Gally to keep a conversation with everyone while he took them to see Lawrence, especially when he noticed how close you stuck by Newt. But, he supposed it was only natural to find another person to be close to when you've lost someone else, he still couldn't help the feeling of jealousy that bubbled up in his chest. He hated how good you and Newt looked together, you seemed...happy.

At the moment, you weren't even close to happy; you were confused, and angry.

It sounded terrible, but a part of you was angry that Gally was actually still alive. You had to go through the mourning process, and you hadn't even finished it and now all of a sudden, he was alive all this time. It put your emotions on haywire, the most you felt was confusion, and if someone would've told you what you were experiencing was some sort of a twisted dream, you would believe them. But your feet were too sore and sunburn too irritating for this all to be a dream.

You sensed Newt's eyes trained on you, you knew he was probably worried, but you couldn't decide what for. Was he worried that you'd go back to Gally? Was he worried you'd replace him now that he was still alive? Knowing Newt, he probably just wanted to talk to you, but even then, you would have no idea what to say. What do people feel or say in situations like this? You were certain not everyone has to go through the loss of a loved one just to find out that they weren't gone, right?

It was late, and you were exhausted, as was everyone else; but you stayed awake, attempting to sleep only causing you to toss and turn, and eventually giving up. But someone else was awake, you were shocked to see that it was Newt. "What're doing awake?" He asked, taking a seat next to you.

"Could ask you the same thing." You replied, only getting a look from Newt in response. "Couldn't sleep." You sighed, caving in to his concerned expression.

"I know it's not my place," Newt started, wringing his hands together nervously, "but, you haven't said a word to Gally." You knew he was going to bring that up, you had that feeling as soon as he saw you were still awake. "I know it was a shock, to all of us. But I thought it'd effect you the most, to be quite honest. You two were pretty close..."

You shrugged weakly, shaking your head. "I don't know what to tell you. Was I supposed to react a certain way? Was I supposed to drop to my knees and burst into tears or something?"

Newt grimaced. "No...of course you're not supposed to act a certain way. It's just a bit strange to me that you haven't tried to speak to him at all."

"I don't even know what I'd say to him." You chuckled bitterly.

"I know you and Gally had something, something special. That sort of thing doesn't just go away. You were absolutely gutted after what happened, this is a chance to reconnect. You care about him, a lot."

"Hey, that doesn't change the way I feel about you. I care about you a lot too."

Newt smiled weakly. "I know, but I really think you should go and talk to him."

You could tell he was being sincere, but you couldn't understand why. You two had grown close over the past several months, so why would he want you to reconnect with someone you used to be even closer with? You weren't really given the time to think over it more before Newt was quickly encouraging you to speak with Gally, telling you where his room was, somehow knowing this conversation would happen and finding out beforehand.

Just a few moments later, you found yourself outside of Gally's door, fist extended out to hover over the worn wood, but you couldn't bring yourself to knock. Thinking back to how hard you tried to avoid Gally when he came back, what if he thought you hated him? What if he didn't want to talk to you?

But before you could chicken out, you forced yourself to knock on Gally's door without thinking, soon hearing the thud of footsteps nearing. With bated breath, you waited for the door to open, anxiety gripping your mind so intensely that it almost triggered your fight or flight response. But Gally's almost hopeful and shocked expression when he saw you waiting relaxed you a little bit. "...hi." Gally voiced, the nervous and confused tone to his voice not going unnoticed by you.

"Hi." You replied, your voice probably just as shaky and nervous as his.

"Uh, come in." He said quickly, moving out of the doorframe, his hands slightly shaking when he motioned you to enter his room.

Your heart was beating out of your chest, so fast and hard that you were worried Gally would be able to hear it. Your hands were shaking, as well as your legs as you walked into his room, it was a miracle you didn't collapse right then and there. You tried not to jump as you heard the click of his door closing, you tried to take deep calming breaths before Gally turned to face you, the two of you almost on complete opposite sides of the room just standing awkwardly.

You stared at Gally, your gaze running up and down his body but ultimately stopping to stare at his chest. Tears quickly came to your eyes as you saw how healthy he looked, like a spear wasn't embedded in his chest months ago. You couldn't stop the flow of whimpers that came from your throat, putting your hands up to cover your face in embarrassment. You felt your face start to burn as you felt Gally's arms wrap around you as soon as you started to cry, but his warmth comforting you only caused you to let out more tears.

You never thought you'd be in his arms again.

Gally stood there silently, holding you and just trying to soothe you as best he could. In the back of his mind, he was astonished that you even let him come near you, you had avoided him altogether up until this moment. But the whimpers he heard coming from you, seeing the tears spilling from your eyes, he instinctively went to hug you. He also couldn't ignore the guilt he felt, thinking that you were crying because of him. He hated it. But you hugged him back tightly, burying your face in his chest and trying to stifle your sobs.

"You're here..." You cried softly, "you're really here..."

Gally's lip trembled, tears of his own brimming his eyes at how much pain you must've been in thinking he was dead all this time, your voice giving away your feelings. He exhaled shakily, "I am here." He placed a kiss to the top of your head. "I'm here."

For a few minutes, you and Gally just held each other silently. You both needed this, understanding how badly you missed one another. Soon, you were able to calm yourself, but you still didn't pull away. Gally only pulled away slightly so he could see your face, frowning when he saw your eyes were puffy and tearstained. "I'm so sorry, Y/n."

You furrowed your brows, shaking your head. "What happened wasn't your fault, Gally." You said genuinely. No matter how much pain and anger you felt about what happened to Chuck, you never once blamed him. You knew W.C.K.D. killed him, and every other Glader who died. But Gally's frown told you everything you needed to know; he still blamed himself.

"I should've gone with you." He whispered, resting his forehead against yours. "How can you even stand the sight of me?"

"Because I know you never would've killed anyone if you weren't stung, especially Chuck."

Hearing Chuck's name out loud made tears brim Gally's eyes once more, tightening his fists in anger at himself. "Chuck deserved so much better...he wasn't supposed to die..." He cried, causing you to pull him back into your embrace, rubbing his back while trying to not to cry again.

"None of us deserved to get experimented on."

Eventually, you lead Gally to sit next to you on his bed, holding his hand. It felt so right to be sitting there with Gally, you missed him so much that you despised ever feeling even the slightest bit of anger when you first saw that Gally was alive. But one emotion did not go away, you still felt confused.

While sitting there with Gally, you couldn't help but think about Newt. He was so adamant about you reconciling with Gally, was he hoping that something would happen between you two? You truly cared a lot about Newt, and you knew he felt the same way, so you couldn't understand why he was acting this way.

You sighed softly when you started to feel sleepy, standing up slowly. "I should probably head back."

Gally quickly stood up with you. "Uh, you could stay here if you want?" He stammered, causing you to smile a little.

"That's okay. I already had a sleeping bag set up for me downstairs, so..."

Gally tried to hide his disappointed frown, choosing to walk up to you until you two were face to face. Maybe it was too soon, but ever since he saw you, Gally had the strongest urge to place his lips on yours. He missed your soft lips that he only had the privilege of feeling a few times back in the Glade before everything happened. He gently grabbed hold of your jaw, tilting your face up and leaning forward slowly.

You wanted him, you wanted him so bad. But before his lips could connect, Newt's face popped up in your mind and you couldn't, you forced yourself to turn away.

You tried not to look at Gally's face, knowing that he'd probably look like a kicked puppy. You couldn't, it would be too painful. "It's Newt." Gally frowned, taking a step back.

Your eyes widened, finally taking a glance over to him to indeed see that his expression was one of disappointment and sadness. "I never said-"

"You didn't have to." Gally interrupted. "I see the way you look at him...it's how you used to look at me." You stayed silent, a feeling of guilt washing over you. "I don't blame you, Y/n, for finding someone else. I'd never expect you to grieve over me forever, that's too selfish."

Hearing this, you had a terrifying thought that you needed to voice out loud. "Did you ever find someone else?" You asked nervously, afraid of his answer.

"No..." He smiled weakly, "No one that could ever compare to you."

You hated that you felt relieved, you were the one who seemed to be selfish. But, you couldn't just drop what you had with Newt now that Gally's still alive. You couldn't say anything else, what could you say to that?

"You should get some sleep." Gally said, opening his door and motioning you to get out.

"Gally..." You whispered.

"Please. Just...we have a busy day tomorrow."

You sighed. You couldn't argue with him.

Newt watched you walk back downstairs, getting into your sleeping bag with a very prominent frown. Doesn't seem like it went well, he thought. He felt relieved and frustrated at the same time. Newt really cared for you, he could even go as far as saying he loved you, but he needed you and Gally to get back together, or become friends again at least.

It wasn't too long ago that Newt found out he had the Flare. He saw the black and purple veins slowly travelling up his arm, and the pain, the pain was the worst part. You had already gotten close to him, so he was heartbroken to know that you'd just lose another person you cared for. After Gally, he knew you wouldn't be able to handle another loss. So when Gally showed up out of the blue, it was like a miracle, Newt's prayers had been answered.

Newt felt jealousy, of course, he wanted to stay with you. He didn't want Gally to take you from him, but what use would he be when he was dead or a Crank? He tried not to be angry with you, it wasn't your fault how you were feeling, but he needed to know you'd be okay when he was gone.

Newt did try talking to you about it, but you always changed the subject or simply didn't answer him. Before you all knew it, it was time to start planning Minho's rescue mission. Thomas didn't want to use Teresa, and hearing that only made Newt's anger bubble to the surface.

It wasn't like Newt to lash out like that, he was always so calm and relaxed. Maybe the stress finally got to him, maybe it was something else...

You immediately followed after Newt when he stormed out after yelling at Thomas, not knowing that Gally's sad eyes were following you. You couldn't think of anything else, you just had to know that Newt was okay.

You found Newt on the roof, sitting on the ledge. "Newt?" You asked, concerned. "Are you okay...?" You stepped closer captiously, finally taking a seat next to him.

Newt only smiled bitterly. "No...no, not really."

You sighed, looking out to the horizon, trying to find the right words to say. "We all thought Teresa was our friend...it's okay to be angry."

Newt shook his head. "It's not that."

You furrowed your brows. "Then, why did you lash out at Thomas?"

Newt bit his lip to keep it from trembling. He never wanted you to find out this way. He didn't even want you to know. But after that scene he made, he knew there was no point in hiding it anymore.

Tears came to your eyes as Newt lifted up his jacket sleeve, revealing his discolored arm. You knew what it was immediately, seeing it on every Crank you came across. "No..." You whispered. "No."

"I know I probably shouldn't have kept it from you, but I was scared. I still am."

"We'll fix it!" You quickly said, it sounding more like a plead. "We'll find another cure!"

Newt only gave you a weak smile. "I don't think that's a possibility right now, love. Besides, Minho needs us."

"No, you're not allowed to give up like that, Newt. We'll find something to help you. If Brenda was cured, so can you. Teresa might-"

"Please, Y/n." Newt voiced sharply. "Please...just stop. I don't need false hope."

Before you could say anything else, you heard the roof access door open, Thomas walking up to the two of you. "Y/n, can I, uh, talk to Newt? Alone?"

You looked to Newt, who nodded, signaling for you to leave. You stood up, speed walking inside and down the stairs. The tears kept falling, blurring your vision, and you had no idea what to do. Newt was dying, and there was nothing that you could do about it, and it didn't seem like he was too eager to try and find a cure. You hoped Thomas could talk some sense into him. But in that moment, your feet subconsciously took you to Gally's little apartment. You stood in front of the door in tears, wishing that you didn't feel the urge to find comfort in him when Newt was sick. But, you knocked on the door, quickly placing yourself in Gally's arms as soon as he was in front of you.

Gally didn't know what was wrong, he barely got a good look at your face before you threw yourself at him. But the way you were shaking and whimpering, he knew you were crying, and he didn't have the heart to pull away from you. He walked backwards and shut his door, leading you to sit down on his bed with him. He just held you as you cried, leaning his head down on top of yours until you calmed down. He finally spoke when your cries were just quiet sniffles. "What happened?"

You exhaled a shaky breath, lifting your head to look at Gally. "Newt has the Flare..."

"W-What...?" Had Gally heard that right? Could his mind be playing tricks on him? He just assumed everyone that was in the Glade was immune, that's why they were there, right? But you repeated what you had said, confirming what Gally thought he heard. "I...I'm so sorry..." That's all Gally could say. He wasn't very well spoken in these types of situations, all he could do was bring you back into another hug.

You finally understood why Newt was pushing you to get close to Gally again; he wanted you to be close to someone when he died.

Yet another situation that had you confused. You knew you loved Gally, you always had, he was your best friend. But now you had Newt, he helped you through everything while in the Scorch, helped you try to overcome your grieve and probably saved your life multiple times. How could you possibly make a decision like this?

You and Gally never put a label on what you had in the Glade, and nobody asked either, not even Alby. You both just knew that you cared for one another, that you'd do anything for the other. But as time went on, you felt guilty knowing what you'd ultimately choose. It was always going to be a lose lose for you.

Newt needed you, and you couldn't leave him when he needed you the most.

Gally, deep down, knew what your decision was going to be. You had a big heart. You never would leave anyone behind, even if they were infected. Back in the Glade, Gally wouldn't have hesitated in sacrificing the few to save the many, but you were never like that. You cared about everyone, especially the people who were closest to you. You never were going to give up on Newt, you couldn't now. You would spend as much time with him as possible, what little time he might've had left. And you did, until he took his final breath.

You felt like you were a glass vase that had been shattered, and every time you tried to pick up the pieces, the glass would just cut deeper and deeper into your skin. It felt like life didn't want you to be put back together. Nothing felt real. Everything that happened in the Last City felt like a fever dream. You hoped that one day you'd wake up and you'd be back in the Glade, everyone was still alive. Maybe if you could go back in time, maybe you could save everyone, maybe you could've convinced Gally to listen to Thomas, maybe you could've held off Newt a bit longer in time for Brenda to give him the cure.

A lot of maybe's, a lot of hopes and prayers, never answered.

Now in the Safe Haven, you felt anything but safe.

You didn't talk to anyone for awhile, not even Gally. You had nothing to say, and you were afraid of breaking down in front of everyone. So, you isolated yourself. And then a couple weeks later, you finally felt everything bubble to the surface.

Sitting down somewhere along the coastline, not too close to the water, but close enough that you could feel the salty breeze of the waves hit you gently as the evening cooled when the sun started to go set.

You tucked yourself up into a ball, your knees as close as you could get them to your chest and your arms wrapped tightly around them. And, you cried. And cried. And cried. And cried. The ugly kind of crying. Your tears weren't coming out one eye at a time in a perfectly straight line down your face like in the movies, you weren't making quiet sniffles or whimpers, you were full on sobbing. Tears came out of your eyes so fast that you could barely make out the sun on the horizon, your shirt sleeves were most definitely covered in snot and whatever salty tears it had the chance to catch. Your throat felt like it was being torn apart by how intense your sobs were. The sobs sounded more like you were having a coughing fit, one of those phlegmy hacking coughs that made you feel like you were going to vomit.

You knew you most likely weren't far enough away from the camp to quiet your weeping, and you knew you were just embarrassing yourself, arranging for yourself to be completely humiliated the next morning when you had to face everybody. But in the moment, you couldn't care less. You loss someone so important to you, it felt like losing Gally all over again. But you knew this time, it was final. No surprise resurrections this time. You felt completely, and utterly, alone.

But you never were.

You felt so dissociated and detached from yourself, the wails of grief too much for your body to handle. You couldn't feel anything around you, not the warmth of the sand, not the slight chill breeze, not even Gally's arms wrapped around you tightly. You didn't realize until you passed out from exhaustion, waking up the next morning in a bed that wasn't yours, and a hut that wasn't yours.

Your vision was still a little bit blurry, all the tears from the night previous crusting to the creases around your eyes, making it a bit of a challenge opening them all the way. But, your other sense were intact enough to tell you that bacon and eggs were next to you on a bedside table. You hadn't eaten the day before, so it was mostly a primal reaction to quickly take the plate and gobble up the food.

You still had to rely on context clues to figure out where you were in the camp. As much as your eyes irritated you, they could now finally work once you were wide awake. You probably should've known immediately who's hut it was, but seeing that familiar grey knitted hoodie settled ungracefully over the backrest of a chair, you knew it was Gally's.

You blushed quickly after that realization. How did he know where you were, and how much did he see? The thought of him seeing you in such a state made you cringe. But what was more horrifying was that Gally was right outside the room, waiting for you to wake up. "Hey..." He voiced, his eyebrows knitted in concern, eyes full of sadness.

You had to look away, the heat rushing to your face making you feel like you were going to pass out again. "Hi." You croaked, your vocal cords still sore and raw.

Gally shifted his weight nervously, taking a step closer to you. "I'm sorry, for bringing you here...I was afraid you were going to hurt yourself." You snapped you gaze back to him in confusion, him quickly blushing, scratching the back of his head. "Uh, Newt told me about what you did to yourself after...after the Maze."

You self-consciously rubbed the spot on your chest where a big scar still remained. "I wasn't trying to...you know, kill myself or anything."

"Forgive me if I don't believe you." He said softly, taking a seat on the bed next to you.

You sighed, crossing your arms. "I just...I didn't know what I was thinking."

Gally gently grabbed ahold of your hand, making you uncross your arms, letting his warm hand take yours. "I'm so sorry, Y/n. Newt should be here with the rest of us. He was a good person."

You nodded as tears came to your eyes again, burning enough to make you whimper, and you leaned your head against Gally's shoulder. "I miss him so much." You cried.

Eventually, you and Gally became close again. He was always there for you. Whenever you had nightmares, whenever you were lonely, whenever you needed anything, Gally would always be there. You started to feel your relationship had almost gotten back to the point where it was in the Glade, it had been almost a year, but you still felt it was too early to be moving on. A part of you didn't want to move on, but you knew that's not what Newt wanted either.

You didn't read the note Newt wrote to you when Thomas first gave it to you. The grief was still too near, and you didn't know if you could handle it. But a couple months after your breakdown, you finally read it. Newt loved you, he had always loved you. And he wanted you to be happy, he didn't want you to be sad that he was gone, even though he knew it would be impossible. But he knew you would be okay, he knew Gally would protect you no matter what. Reading his note was part of the reason you knew it would be okay to be with Gally, it just took you some time.

One day, you and Gally were taking a break from working, just sitting near the forest tree line, and you did it; you kissed him, and you couldn't stop, you didn't want to stop. And you didn't, and neither did Gally.

After that, it was almost impossible to spend any time away from each other.

You never thought you'd smile again, but Gally always found a way. He made you so happy, and it made you cry one night when you finally realized that you were happy, and you knew somewhere out there, it made Newt happy.

~~~~~~~~~~

Cries in Español

[karlswrites]

A Grimm Trip

This is part two of the Devildom boys carrying you around. From here on out, this little series shall be affectionally named the Devildom Taxi Service. This week's boy is Mams the Man.

I hope y'all enjoy a protective Mammon!

Warnings: Some violence? Like, there's no blood. Also, you have a twisted ankle, so... sorry. There's that good fluff, though...

Word Count: 1,694

When arriving at the Devildom- even though it was a shock- you didn’t expect most demons to be friendly with you. You expected some cursing and the classic life endangerment, but you didn’t expect high-school-level bullying. You were in college, for Pete’s sake. Needless to say, the demon foot sticking out by your classroom’s door was an unpleasant surprise. So was the faceplant that followed right after.

You attempted to stand back up, pulling yourself up by your elbows and knees. Within one second, a disheveled Mammon (Let’s be honest, he would sprint to you) was kneeling at your side. His hands made swift movements, one landing at the small of your back and the other grabbing at one of your wrists. He pulled you up and into him.

His heartbeat drummed against your ears. It was beating fast. Whether it was from worrying about you or embarrassment, you didn’t know. Still, the sound fluttered around you, engulfing you in warmth. Expected to see a miffed Mammon, as he was typically vexed by you getting in trouble, you looked up. Mammon had apparently decided to look at you then, too. A furious blush washed over his cheeks and ears when he noticed how close you were. The expression was surprising, and the shock of it made you grow a similar shade in return. Again, you felt his pulse rate increase. That somehow calmed you, and you began to relish in everything that was Mammon. He was always so selfless as to embarrass himself in your stead. Stepping in right after you suffered a measly trip, caring not for his tarnished reputation. His brothers always called him selfish, but, boy howdy, were they wrong.

Mammy released your wrist but kept his hand on your back, ensuring that you wouldn’t fall back down. The two of you began to stand together when a sharp pain shot through your ankle. Mammon immediately lowered you back to the floor, sitting you back against the wall.

“Whoa, hey! Are you okay?” he asked, words tumbling out of his mouth about a mile a minute.

You almost couldn’t understand him, though his urgency to treat you was sweet. Futilely, you tried to ensure him that you were fine, but that same pain returned when you attempted to move again. Turning your foot felt like a death sentence; you were in rough shape.

Before you could muster any soothing words, Mammon was at his feet again. Never taking his eyes off you, he approached the other student still laughing at his desk. The boy fell silent when he noticed the Avatar of Greed was standing before him. The cocky grin he wore turned panicked.

“You think it’s funny? You think hurting my human is funny?” Mammon’s voice lowered an octave as he spoke. Some semblance of a growl echoed from his throat.

Those shrill screams and whines you had once associated him with melted away from your memory and were replaced by, if you thought you had heard correctly, his snarl. He was clearly pissed off. Being the only demon who never laid a hand on you, it was a bit scary to see him behave like this. Anger was beginning to physically manifest around him; the lights dimmed and the surrounding air started to cumulate into black fog.

Being the fourth (I’m putting Barbatos at #2) most powerful demon, Mammon was capable of things beyond your imagination. Fear took the reigns in your brain as you began to imagine a series of scenarios, each pumping more and more cortisol into your veins. One image showed the greedy demon decimating your classmate, claws ripping into their uniform, fangs plunging into any extremity he could reach, horns threatening to pierce through the top of his head. It was quite the contrast to how he typically acted when terrorized by Lucifer or any of his other brothers. He’d allow them to hang him from the ceiling, but God forbid anyone to do anything like that to you. You were his emotional support human, and he wanted to protect you as your first. Anyone who hurt you was begging for whatever they got.

You were pulled from your thoughts when the unnamed demon yelped. Mammon had lifted him, fists curling into his jacket’s collar. The black fog had begun to swirl around the two, gradually rising from Mammon’s feet into the air. With each curse and threat escaping his lips, the fog rose higher and higher. If things continued like this, the two would be swallowed whole by the essence.

Knowing that there was no other way to stop Mammon from making a mistake, you called out him. The golden glow from Mammon’s sigil emitted from your back and through the thick material of your jacket. A wave of strength coursed through you as you stretched a hand out towards the two.

“Stop.” Your voice rang louder than you intended, but you were surprised by how clear it was. Your body was still shaking, but it definitely didn’t sound like it.

Mammon froze. His hands stilled as if frozen in time. The black fog dissipated completely a second after your command reached him.

“Let him go, Mammon. Come back to me.” Mammon eased at your soft voice and followed your orders without a thought.

When he looked back at you, his eyes gleamed with something: a mixture of gratitude and shame. There was rarely a cause for you to command him, and he hated every single time he brought you to control him. It wasn’t relinquishing himself to you that upset him. No, it was that he had let you down. To him, he had done something grave. Anything that he did that wasn’t right with you was like a cardinal sin in his eyes. His perception was a tad melodramatic, but after how you fixed the broken remnants of his family, you were truly an angel to him. Disappointing you had become his biggest fear and grievance.

“It’s okay,” you called to him, your voice beginning to waver as the sigil’s magic wore off. “You’re okay.”

You silently prayed that your words anchored themselves to him, and you made a note to yourself to praise him for his kindness later once you saw the light returning to his golden orbs- the same gold that brightened when he let the student go and raced back to your side. Mammon was still undoubtedly angry at the other demon, baring teeth as he glared at him over his shoulder. Getting the hint, he and your other classmates hurried out of the room.

Mammon asked again if you were okay. You said yes. His eyes traveled from yours to your ankle (When writing this, I almost said, “His eyes traveled down south for the winter. Not even kidding), and he removed your shoe. He wrapped his hand around your ankle and gently poked it with his thumb, eliciting a quiet whimper. The pout he gave after almost made you laugh despite the pain.

“Yeah, I ain’t lettin’ ya walk like that,” he murmured. His eyes met yours again and his pout spread into a white smile. “Guess it’s my duty to help ya back to your room.”

As you recalled one past life-threatening instance, you understood Mammy loved playing the hero, so you agreed.

Mammon turned on his knees, facing his back towards you. Carefully, he trudged backward to you, keeping his eyes trained to yours. He was subconsciously looking for any sign of discomfort- another testament to how caring he was, even if he didn’t recognize it. He gripped the backside of your knees firmly and dipped his head. That gave you enough room to pull yourself forward, wrapping your arms over his shoulders, mindful not to put too much pressure around his neck. You didn’t want to accidentally choke your knight in messy uniform.

“I hope I’m not too heavy,” you breathed against his neck. He shook off the shiver you caused with a hearty laugh.

“There’s no way you’re too heavy for the Great Mammon!” he protested, pulling you closer to him by your knees.

In one fluid motion, he hoisted you up and stood. He was pretty graceful for a “scumbag,” and you hugged yourself closer. Your chin found a home on his shoulder, slipping past the undone collar of his shirt, clinging to the warmth of his skin. Additionally, your arms were pushing his jacket further past his shoulders to his elbows, but there was no way he was going to complain. On the contrary, the pink gracing his cheeks proposed he liked the closeness. Well, that wasn’t very tsundere of him. Before you could catch it, a giggle slipped past your lips as he stepped out of the classroom.

“What’s so funny, human?” Mammon asked, nudging your cheek with his. You wondered if he could feel how he made your face hotter than hell. He must have because his step faltered.

“Nothing. Just thinking about how selfless you are.” That was sorta true.

Unlike the cheerfulness that rang from him before, his laugh was dull. He removed his cheek from yours and looked straight ahead.

“I ain’t selfless!” His hollow laugh died down, and he turned serious. “If anything, I’m selfish and greedy. I wanted to be the hero, I wanted to save you, and nobody else ain’t gonna get the chance to when I’m around!” His voice picked up when he finished, and his eyes were renewed with vibrancy as he looked to you. He cheered himself up with his own words, and his “greed” flowed from him like sweetness.

“Still, you’re sweet to help me. Thank you,” you cooed, connecting your cheeks once again.

This time, it was Mammy’s turn to erupt into a flustered state. He almost tripped over his own two feet, though he was careful to keep himself up. He was carrying precious cargo after all.

Upon delivering you to your dorm, the two of you spent the rest of the day watching your favorite shows and movies, eating your favorite snacks. Of course, Mammon argued he only allowed such thing ‘cause he liked them too.’

Lucifer's (Part 1): Pride In Arms