#can’t even blame all these emotions on my period. it’s ten days away still.

[icterid-rubus]

Hhh so angry these past two days

[bluejayblueskies]

For the Touches Ask Game, if you can, a little Jonmartin with Touching/9?

Thank you so much, I love your writing!!! 😭💕

touches prompt list

9 - holding hands across the table

i did a season two lunch dinner date fic! cw for mentions of paranoia/stalking and murder (in typical s2 fashion)

.

They’ve been having lunch together for two months when Martin asks, with enough stuttering that it takes Jon a moment to process his words, if Jon would like to get dinner with him.

Jon hesitates only briefly before agreeing. Between finding out about Martin’s CV and the newly delivered CCTV footage, he’s almost entirely convinced that Martin did not, in fact, murder Gertrude Robinson and that his various attempts to make sure Jon eats and sleeps and drinks tea are simply a result of Martin being… well. Being nice, he supposes. If overbearingly so.

Why Martin feels the need to coddle Jon, he doesn’t quite know. But if he’s being honest with himself, he’s… not complaining. His frequent skipping of meals often isn’t an intentional thing, born instead of his tendency to get so wrapped up in his work that hours fly by without him noticing, and while sometimes he’s irritated when his flow is interrupted by Martin’s cheery greeting, more often than not it’s… a relief. To step out of the Archives, away from the feeling of eyes on the back of his neck, and pretend like he isn’t working alongside a murderer.

Maybe a murderer. He… he doesn’t know. According to the CCTV footage, Tim and Sasha and Martin and Elias all have alibis. But he still can’t shake the feeling that he gets, sitting in his office or walking down the corridors or reading through statements, that something isn’t right.

That there’s something in the Archives that’s not supposed to be there.

So, it’s… nice to get outside. And as much as Tim may joke about it—or… used to joke about it, at least—Jon does, in fact, try to eat three square meals a day if he can remember to do so. Try being the operative word. He’s been… caught up in work lately, and often he glances at the clock to see that it’s well past ten and he’s accidentally skipped dinner entirely. He hadn’t thought Martin had noticed, given that the man doesn’t live in the Archives anymore and typically leaves promptly at five along with Tim and Sasha, but evidently, he was wrong.

As Jon sits across the table from Martin at the small café they’ve chosen for lunch, he has the fleeting thought that Martin’s been sneaking back and watching him work and that’s how he knows that Jon has been missing dinner. He lets himself feel it, takes a deep breath, and pushes it away with considerable effort. No, that’s not… he trusts Martin. He does. Or he… he wants to. He’s trying.

“Jon?”

“Hm?” Jon blinks up at Martin, who’s clearly waiting for a response. “Sorry, I-I didn’t catch that.”

Martin’s cheeks are dusted a rosy red. He fiddles nervously with the black ring on his finger—a bit thicker in width than Jon’s, the metal smooth and bright where it reflects the sunlight. “Is—is this Friday okay? At—at seven? I-I can, um, meet you at the Institute. U-Unless you’d like to meet there! That’s, er. That’s fine with me too.”

“The Institute is fine,” Jon says, picking at his sandwich with a frown. The bread is damp and squishes under his fingers. “Perhaps we can go somewhere a bit less… soggy.”

“R-Right, yeah. I, um. I was actually thinking… you know that new bistro o-over in Clapham? M-Maybe not, it’s, er. It’s new. But I-I heard it has good South Asian food, which, um. I know you like.”

Martin’s face is fully crimson by this point. Maybe we should sit inside next time, Jon thinks. Or at least in the shade. The sun is rather intense. Martin picks up his mug of tea and takes a long sip, staring resolutely down at the table once he’s done. Jon waits, but it appears that Martin is done rambling, so he says, “Yes, that sounds fine.” Then, because it’s polite (and not untrue): “I am… looking forward to it.”

“O-Oh? Oh!” Martin looks at him, a wide smile spreading across his face. “Y-Yeah, um. M-Me too.”

We should definitely sit inside next time, Jon thinks as the back of his neck grows warm, the tips of his ears surely darkening. Good lord.

He doesn’t think the heat is responsible for the way Martin’s smile makes something in his stomach flutter. He decides to blame that on the atrocious sandwich because… well. It’s as convenient an excuse as any.

Because Martin is just looking out for Jon’s wellbeing. This is no different than him bringing mugs of tea when Jon is recording statements or accompanying him to A&E to get stitches after Michael or inviting him to lunch in the first place. This is not, he tells his ridiculous, over-zealous, butterfly-filled stomach, a date.

Because it’s not. Martin is simply a coworker—an employee—and a friend. Who he trusts. Maybe. Probably. And thinks about sometimes when he’s unoccupied. His hands, mostly, which look very soft and very capable. His smiles as well, each one like a gift meant just for Jon. The way he carries the heavier boxes that Jon can’t quite manage and can reach the top shelves to retrieve statements without even having to clamber up onto the bottom ones.

All completely normal thoughts to be having about a friend

So, when Jon wears the soft maroon button-down on Friday that he’s been told brings out his eyes and takes care to arrange his hair into something other than the haphazard braid he’s been managing lately and digs a bottle of peach nail varnish out of the bottom of his drawer the night before to coat his fingernails with, it’s just because he feels like it. Not because this is a date. Because it’s not a date. It’s just dinner. With Martin.

Who shows up to the Institute at quarter to seven wearing a nicer jumper than usual—cable-knit and mustard yellow, looking incredibly soft to the touch—and with small black studs decorating the lobes of his ears. He smiles widely when he sees Jon, also standing outside earlier than agreed upon, and Jon almost turns around to see if someone’s behind him. But there isn’t. That smile, unfettered and full of joy—it’s… it’s for him.

Surely, Martin is just… happy to see him leaving the office while it’s still light out for once. He’s certainly chided Jon enough times for his habit of falling asleep at his desk. (Which he’s been trying to do less lately, if only because it would be easy for someone to sneak up on him while he’s unconscious and slip a knife into his back or poison his tea or shoot him three times in the chest or—)

“R-Ready to head out?” Martin says, abruptly halting Jon’s train of thought. He tries not to look like he’d just been theorizing about his own inevitable demise as he mumbles his assent and follows Martin away from the Institute and into the still-bustling streets of London.

And if he presses close to Martin’s side while they walk, well. It’s just because every brush of unfamiliar contact against him feels overwhelming, enough so to make him flinch away. And if he takes Martin’s hand for a small period of time, well. It’s just because the crowd has thickened and he doesn’t want them to get separated. And if he feels particularly warm in his jacket when Martin laughs awkwardly at his own joke and rubs at the back of his neck, well. That’s just from exertion. It is quite a far walk to the restaurant.

The bistro is lovely. Jon typically doesn’t go for places like this—tucked between two nondescript buildings with a glass front that reveals soft, intimate lighting within and flowers planted in boxes outside—but once they’re inside and seated at their table, it’s… oddly charming. Jon shrugs out of his jacket, and even though it’s the same shirt he’s been wearing all day, Martin compliments him on it with a flush. The change from frigid winter air to the warmth of the bistro brings heat to Jon’s face as well, and he rolls up the cuffs of his sleeves to just below his elbows. Martin makes a choking sound, but when Jon looks up with a frown, he has his glass of water pressed to his lips.

“Sorry,” Martin says once he’s placed the glass back on the table. “Just, um. Uh. Tickle in my throat. A-Allergies, you know.”

Martin’s face pinches in what looks like a repressed wince, and Jon tries to be reassuring. After all, Martin is taking time out of his schedule to be here with Jon, and Jon doesn’t want to seem ungrateful. His grandmother taught him proper manners, and besides, he is… rather glad to be here.

His commiseration about his own experiences with seasonal allergies turns into a mini-lecture on the species of pollen-producing plants in their area. He only realizes he’s doing it when the waiter comes by with a cheery smile and asks if they’re ready to order.

Jon’s mouth snaps shut mid-sentence. He has not even opened his menu.

“I. Um.” Jon is about to ask for more time—which he strongly dislikes doing, as he’s had the waiting staff forget more than once about his table and he’s had to go through the mortifying ordeal of hailing them down like a-a bloody taxi—when Martin tilts his own menu toward Jon and points to an item in the middle of the page.

“They have chicken karahi and naan. I, er. I heard it’s good if you’re… interested.”

Jon blinks at the menu in surprise. “That… sounds great, actually. Er, medium spice, please.”

Martin orders his own squash curry, and the waiter takes their menus when he departs, leaving the spot in front of Jon oddly empty. Jon taps his fingers on the newly barren tabletop a few times, trying and failing to remember where he’d left off in his lecture. Ultimately, he gives up, deciding that Martin isn’t going to be interested in hearing about all of that and he’s already said enough on the subject.

Then, Martin says, “So, you were saying—about the pollen?” and something in Jon’s chest squeezes, an emotion he doesn’t know the name of. Relief, maybe, as Martin’s words manage to spark his memory and he picks up his train of thought again easily enough. Yes, that’s… that’s probably it.

The first few times they’d gone to lunch, Jon had made an effort to stop himself from rambling, as he was prone to do any time someone gave him the opportunity. He’d engrossed himself in his sandwiches and rice bowls and mediocre Chinese takeaway in order to keep from launching into an explanation of the origins of said folding takeaway containers or the documentary he’d watched recently about the Zhou dynasty. And the first few lunches had been… awkward. It wasn’t because Jon thought Martin was a murderer—he doesn’t think he’d have agreed to go for lunch if he truly believed that Martin might harm him. It was just… how things like this went when Jon was involved. He knows he struggles with casual conversation, and he’s never understood the purpose or execution of ‘small talk.’ He would be perfectly content to eat and exist in silence, except all too often he feels expected to provide some sort of conversation or entertainment, upon which point the silence becomes horribly oppressive and stress-inducing.

But he also knows that talking too much can be just as bad as not talking enough. His grandmother had always told him so. So he suffered through the awkward silences for the first few days, and Martin had let him, clearly assuming that if Jon wasn’t speaking, he shouldn’t either.

Then, around their fourth or fifth lunch together, Martin had begun to ask him questions. They were casual, genuine, and so clearly targeted at Jon’s interests that Jon was convinced that Martin was somehow following him home or searching through his computer history or—or something. On their eighth lunch together, Martin asked Jon about the newest exhibit at the museum—it had been about sharks, if Jon remembers correctly—and Jon couldn’t help asking how Martin knew that he’d gone to see it. He hadn’t explicitly asked if Martin had been following him, but he’s sure the sentiment was clear in his eyes.

The tips of Martin’s cheeks had grown red, and he’d said that Jon had mentioned a few days prior that he was planning on going. All traces of fear and paranoia had left Jon’s mind then, replaced by surprise and, beneath it, something warm and bubbly. Martin had remembered.

Their conversations had gotten a lot easier after that.

Despite how Martin seems to enjoy Jon’s long-winded tangents, he… does still make an effort not to hold a completely one-sided conversation. So, a few minutes into the continuation of his pollen discussion, he finds a natural stopping point and says, “So, er. You… like being outside?”

Not the most… articulated question Jon has ever asked. But Martin doesn’t seem to mind. His fingers curl around the bottom of his water glass, his palms smudging the condensation. “Yeah, w-when I can find the time, I suppose. I-I try to go for walks around my neighborhood if I can, if it’s not too dark by the time I get home, and there’s this park in—”

Martin cuts off with a small cough. He lifts his glass and takes a long sip, while Jon sits and drums his fingers against the table and tries not to bounce his leg too noticeably. “Sorry,” Martin says as soon as the glass leaves his lips, giving Jon an apologetic smile that somehow seems… artificial. Like it’s been plastered atop another, heavier expression. “S-Something in my throat again.” He hesitates, then continues, “There’s a park in Devon that I-I like, whenever I’m in that area.”

Devon’s quite a trip away, Jon thinks but doesn’t say. Why do you go to Devon? he doesn’t say. Is that where you go on Saturdays? he doesn’t say, because—well. It’s rather embarrassing, among other things, to admit to the fact that you’ve gone through your employee’s desk calendar because you thought he might have shot an old woman three times in the chest and had plans to do the same to you. Particularly when you are having dinner with said employee.

Ugh. Probably best not to think about the fact that he is technically Martin’s boss when he’s sitting three feet away from him at a candlelit table on what, to an outside observer, might look startlingly similar to a date.

But it’s not a date. Because Martin didn’t say it was a date, and he’s just trying to care for Jon, in that… over-the-top way that he does. Jon tries to muster up some irritation at the reminder that he’s likely being coddled, just for habit’s sake, but comes up empty.

He hasn’t been truly irritated with Martin in quite some time. He… doesn’t really know when that changed. When Martin became a source of comfort, rather than of annoyance.

“Jon?” Martin says. Right. Martin is still sitting across from him.

“Right,” Jon says, trying to sound like he hasn’t been drifting off in a hundred different directions. “That sounds… nice.”

Martin’s lips curl up into a small smile. “Yeah. I-It is. It, um. It makes the trip worth it, to be able to sit on one of the benches and just… write poetry.”

Jon has read some of Martin’s poetry, though Martin doesn’t know that. Jon doesn’t like poetry. Jon liked Martin’s poetry. These are, apparently, two truths that can and do coexist.

Jon does not mean to say, “Could I hear one?” But it appears that he is weary enough and relaxed enough and distracted enough that his verbal filter has small, critical holes in it. Damn.

Martin sputters. “U-Um, well, I-I suppose… I could, I-I do have a few, er. M-Memorized, if you—you really…” He trails off uncertainly. “You’re. Um. You’re sure?”

Well. Nothing to do but lean into it, Jon supposes. “I wouldn’t have asked if I weren’t sure, Martin,” he says, a bit snippier than he intends. The tips of his ears are hot, and he is deeply thankful that the dimness of the bistro hides the way they’re surely darkening.

“R-Right.” Martin clears his throat, looks down at the table. “I-I suppose I’ll just… do a short one?”

He proceeds to recite, in quiet, surprisingly stutterless lines, one of the poems that Jon already knows from the notebooks he’d left behind in the Archives. It’s… his favorite, if he were forced to pick one. But there is something different—something more—about hearing Martin speak the words aloud rather than simply reading them on a page. Martin pauses in places Jon hadn’t thought to pause, lingers on words he hadn’t thought to linger on, and adds a softness to the ends of lines and phrases that Jon finds himself enraptured by.

Logically, he knows that it’s not good poetry. He’d begrudgingly taken a poetry class during uni, had hated every minute of it, and had donated all of his books to charity shops the moment he wasn’t in need of them anymore. He’s read Dickens and Poe and Whitman—all the works that are considered great representations of their art form.

Martin’s poetry is nothing like theirs. His lines don’t follow the same rhythms; his words are clumsier, his images less profound. But still, even though Jon knows that it is technically not good poetry, he… he likes it.

He tries not to analyze that feeling too closely.

“So, um. Yeah,” Martin says after he finishes, rubbing his thumb over his ring. “I-It’s not really… great work, heh, you know, s-sorry.”

Jon is not the comforting sort. He’s been told that he’s too sharp at the edges, skin too full of spines and thorns. So he surprises himself, and probably his grandmother from beyond the grave, when he reaches across the table and takes Martin’s hand in his. It’s soft and big, the pads of Martin’s fingers lightly calloused from a past history of manual labor, and Jon thinks just for a moment how small his own hands look in Martin’s. He surprises himself even more when he says, honestly, “I enjoyed it, Martin.”

Martin blinks at him, eyes wide and owlish. His hand is rigid in Jon’s, like he’s afraid that if he moves, he’ll frighten Jon away like a skittish cat. “O-Oh.” It’s hard to tell in the dim light, but Jon thinks Martin might be blushing. “Well. T-Thanks.”

Jon nods once stiffly. He does not retract his hand. At first, it’s because he doesn’t think to do so, too wrapped up in the feeling of his skin against Martin’s. Then, it’s because it’s been long enough that doing so would be more awkward than keeping his hand there. He asks Martin about the inspiration behind the poem, for want of another conversation topic, and Martin talks about the trip he took to the countryside once and how it stuck with him, and Jon’s hand remains atop Martin’s. Martin takes a drink from his glass, and Jon takes a drink from his, but both of them use their free hands, as if in unspoken agreement that this is just how things are now. Jon’s hand is resting atop Martin’s and it will be until he has just cause to move it and that is just the way of the universe. Nothing to be done about it.

Their food comes, and looking extremely regretful about the fact, Martin extracts his hand from underneath Jon’s and reaches for his fork. They don’t mention the loss, and it’s quiet for a period of time while Jon eats his chicken karahi and Martin eats his squash curry and Jon tries not to openly moan at how good the food is.

Something must show on his face, because Martin smiles warmly at him and says, “Well? Was that Yelp reviewer correct when they said that the chicken karahi is ‘literally the best food they’ve ever eaten in their entire life’?”

Jon swallows a bite of admittedly very good chicken. “Well. I don’t know that I would quite go to that extreme, but it is rather enjoyable.” Reminds me of the way my grandmother used to make it, he doesn’t say. That feels like a date conversation, and this isn’t a date.

(It feels very much like a date.)

(It isn’t a date.)

“Good,” Martin says. Then, he smiles, wide and unabashed and like a ray of sunlight, and Jon quickly buries himself in his food again so he doesn’t say something foolish like I really like it when you smile at me like that or Is this a date? or I would very much like this to be a date.

They finish eating, and the waiter takes away their plates with the promise of bringing the check soon. Jon’s hands rest on the table, index finger fiddling with the edge of the cloth placemat in front of him. He’s in the middle of trying to convince himself that yes, it would be ridiculous to take Martin’s hand again, you should definitely not do that on this very much not-a-date, when Martin reaches out and takes Jon’s hand in his. Properly takes it, pressing their palms together and slotting his fingers easily between Jon’s and knocking their rings together as he squeezes gently.

“Um,” Jon says eloquently. He should very much not ask if this is a date. “What are you doing?”

Nope, that’s worse. That’s definitely worse.

“Oh!” Martin lets go of Jon’s hand immediately, and Jon does not try to chase Martin’s hand as it retracts, thank you very much. He’s more dignified than that. “S-Sorry, I thought… I, um. Never mind. I-I shouldn’t have… sorry. Again.”

“It’s fine,” Jon finds himself saying. Then, in an effort to do damage control: “I… didn’t mind.”

“You… didn’t?” Martin seems confused, which is understandable. If Georgie were here, she’d tell him that he’s giving, quote, ‘mixed signals.’ He’d never quite understood what counts as ‘mixed signals,’ and he doesn’t know that he ever will.

“I did not,” Jon confirms. “I just… I suppose I…”

He should not ask if this is a date. He really, really shouldn’t.

“Is this a-a date?”

It appears he’s found another one of the holes in his verbal filter. Lovely.

Martin’s eyes grow impossibly wider. He makes a series of sputtering sounds as Jon waits and tries not to bounce a hole through the floor with the heel of his foot. “You—you didn’t…” Martin seems to have a miniature internal debate with himself, his face cycling through a dozen different expressions over the next few seconds. Finally, he sighs and says, eyes fixated on the table between them, “I had… intended it to be. Though I suppose if—if you didn’t know it was a date, that. Um. Kind of defeats the purpose.”

“Does it?” Jon’s mouth says without his permission.

“I-I mean… you can’t really have a one-sided date,” Martin says with an awkward laugh. The waiter is nowhere to be seen, which Jon is grateful for and disheartened by in equal measure. This situation would certainly be easier with a convenient escape.

“I… suppose.” Jon worries at the edge of the placemat, pulling on a loose thread. “Though, it’s… if this were a date—or, I suppose, if I-I’d known it was meant to be a date—I… wouldn’t have acted much differently.” He pulls harder at the thread, feeling a bit bad for the way the fabric bunches around it. “I… would not have been… that is to say, I would have liked it if… rather, to say that I didn’t think about it would be, er… well, incorrect.”

Martin stares at him, clearly unable to make sense of Jon’s admittedly disjointed, half-finished sentences. Jon sighs and says, under his breath, “I am not opposed to considering tonight a date.”

Martin’s cheeks are red enough now that Jon can see the flush, even in the dim light. “U-Um. What?”

“I am not opposed,” Jon repeats, louder, “to considering tonight a date.” Lord, that’s mortifying to say out loud. How do people do this? To emphasize his point, he sticks his hand out, palm-up on the table. It’s stiff and awkward and he probably looks like a cat with its hackles raised. He focuses on the cable knit of Martin’s jumper so he doesn’t have to see whatever amused or mocking or disappointed expression is on Martin’s face as he realizes just how bad Jon is at all of this.

Martin is quiet for a moment. Then, just as Jon is about to pull his hand away and flee for the exit, he feels a touch against his palm. Martin’s hand settles tentatively atop his—not weaving their fingers together, not even properly holding it, just… pressing together, palm to palm. Jon can feel Martin’s heartbeat faintly against the tips of his fingers where they press against the inside of Martin’s wrist. “Okay,” Martin says softly, like Jon has just given him a precious gift. “Then it’s a date.”

It’s a date. Jon’s skin has absolutely no reason to prickle at those words, nor does his stomach have any reason to squeeze and sprout butterflies. He nods, a bit brusquely, and opens his mouth to say something—god knows what—when the waiter appears next to their table, somehow having both comically bad and impossibly good timing.

Martin pays, despite Jon’s insistence that he can cover his own share, and then they’re back out in the cool night air, making their way toward the tube station. The first few minutes are quiet. There’s a tension between them that feels more anticipatory than awkward. Their hands brush once, twice. Then, on the third time, Martin hooks his fingers around Jon’s and clasps his hand in his, and Jon lets out a breath he hadn’t known he’d been holding.

They hold hands all the way to the tube station, up until they have to part ways to take separate lines. Jon runs through all the things that he thinks he’s supposed to say in a situation like this—I had fun tonight or We should do this again sometime or… something—but ends up saying instead, “How long have you…?”

He trails off, squeezing Martin’s hand a few times thoughtlessly, like a warm, bony stress ball. Martin seems to infer the rest of his question, however, because he squeezes Jon’s hand in return and says, “It’s… new for me too, if that’s what you’re asking.”

Jon nods and squeezes Martin’s hand again. He thinks that’s going to become quite a habit if they keep this up. “Right.”

Martin hesitates, before letting his grip on Jon’s hand loosen slightly. “We… we don’t have to do this again if you don’t want to. I-I know things are complicated right now, and I…” He worries his bottom lip between his teeth. “I want to do this again, for… for what it’s worth. But I get it. If you don’t, that is. For—for any reason.”

“I do,” Jon says, surprising himself with his conviction. “I-I don’t… you’re right. Things are… complicated.” That’s certainly a word for it. “But I… I trust you, Martin. O-Or… I want to trust you.” He takes a deep breath. “I am making the decision to trust you.” It’s hard and it’s terrifying and there’s an animal instinct deep within Jon that’s telling him not to expose his vulnerable side, but… somehow, despite all of that, Martin makes him feel… well. Not safe, but as close to safe as he can get right now. Which is an accomplishment in its own right.

Martin exhales slowly and gives Jon a small, hesitant smile. “Thank you. I-I know that’s difficult, and I…” Martin squeezes Jon’s hand, just once. “I-I’m happy.”

And Jon finds that he means it when he says softly, “I’m happy too.”

Martin gets on his train, and Jon gets on his. And despite the ever-present itching beneath his skin and the persistent belief that something isn’t right and the knowledge that he is likely a hunted man, from the moment he lets go of Martin’s hand to the moment he closes his eyes and curls onto his side in bed, that happiness remains.

[cobrakaisb]

hi bestie! i’ve had this idea for a while, but i haven’t seen it. can you do like a head cannon of what miguel, robby, and eli/hawk would be like as an older brother? it can be totally based off what you think :) thank you <3

of course! sorry it took me a while but i needed to to be perfect. i also added two bonus boys at the end (hope you don’t mind). little note: i wrote this with a fem reader in mind because of the mentions of periods. 

Having the Cobra Kai boys as older brothers

miguel:

you and miguel are so close

the age difference does not affect him at all

he is very protective of you before cobra kai

but once he joins cobra kai that over protectiveness 📈📈📈

let’s just say that this kid is bothering you

miguel definitely notices and scares them off

you act annoyed about it, but you’re highkey grateful that he did that

“my brother is the all valley champ so back the fuck off”

you were so excited for him at the all valley

you wore one of his cobra kai shirts and everything

miguel is so supportive of whatever extra curricular you do

karate? yes he stans, theater? you bet he’s at all your shows, dance? you know he’s bringing you some flowers, another sport? he’s at every game cheering for you

miguel knows about periods, and he has no shame in buying you tampons/pads

“hey y/n, i noticed you were running low so i got you some more” 🥺🥺 

you wear his hoodies all the time

they are very big on you, but very comfy

you help him with sam

“i punched her in the face” “what why?”

“y/n what do you think about this?” “it looks great miguel. sam will love it”

when he dates tory you're a little on edge about it

“miguel, weren’t you like trying to win sam back two days ago?” “i like tory now” “okayy” 

johnny loves you as much as he loves miguel

y’all hang out together

his friends are your friends and vice versa

your friends definitely think that miguel is cute but “eww that’s my brother”

when miguel is in the coma you blame johnny

“he showed mercy because of you! you did this!”

but then you cry into his chest

when miguel wakes up you’re at school

you don’t find out until after school when carmen picks you up

you hug him so tight, rambling about how much you love him

“i love you too y/n now get off me”

you can’t keep up with his love life

“y/n i’m with sam again” “what?” 

overall your bond is amazing and you couldn’t ask for a better brother

robby:

you and robby both live with your mother (because we aren’t basic here)

you’re the odd one out (your mom does drugs and robby sells them)

“you got caught with molly? i thought you and sara were hooking up?” “the drug y/n”

when robby starts being friends with those punk kids, the two of you start to drift

you actually go to school, unlike him

“just skip y/n” “no robby”

it isn’t until he gets back on track because of daniel that you two start getting close again

“i’m gonna get back on track y/n i promise” and you believe him

you go to the skatepark with him

he skates while you read or draw or skate (whatever you’re into tbh)

when you’re on your period robby will buy you stuff, but he doesn’t like to

he feels so awkward about it

“um are these the right ones?” “yes thank you”

robby gives the best hugs (idk why he just does)

i feel like robby is also really good at reading emotions

like he knows when you’ve had a bad day at school or when you’re stressed about something

he also knows how to cheer you up :)))

“i know you did not just eat cereal with water???” “and what about it?”

when your mom comes back after being gone for days robby pulls you behind him

because he really doesn’t want you to be exposed to that

you cry into robby’s chest once she leaves

“why can’t she just be our mom?”

when daniel asks robby to move in with him he denies

but quickly explains that he can’t leave you

daniel tells robby that you can come too

“thanks for helping my brother mr.larusso, i really appreciate it”

you definitely walk in on robby and sam making out at some point

“hey robby- oh my god i’m so sorry” slaps hand over eyes and immediately leaves the room

when robby pushes miguel off the balcony it's the first time you’re genuinely scared of him

you visit him in jail, but it takes awhile for you to go

“i’m sorry y/n” “i know robby”

you just understand each other

when robby joins cobra kai he tries to get you in too

you agree to one lesson, and know it’s not for you

you have many arguments about this

“he’s brainwashing you!” “he knows what’s best for me, for us!”

robby feels so betrayed when he finds out you’re staying with johnny

the two of you definitely drift after that, but you find your way back to each other, you always do

eli/hawk:

okay so before he flips the script you defend eli, no matter what

you cry with him about the bullies and definitely try to fight kyler more than once

you wear his sweaters (fight me on it)

you encourage him to do karate

when he flips the script you’re very happy for him he finally feels confident in himself and you love that for him

now the roles are reversed

hawk protects you now

no one even dares to look at you because they are scared of him

i feel like he has a tattoo for you, whether that's your name or your favorite flower idk but he gets one for you

“um wow okay we’re doing that now” “do you like it or not?” “yeah but i wasn’t expecting it”

sometimes he’ll let you pick his hair color “how about purple” “maybe” 😉

he definitely flirts with your friends “hello ladies!” “hi hawk!” “get out!”

you’re the only one that is allowed to call him eli

“eli i need ten dollars?” “for what?” “a snack” *hands over the money*

“eli can i have your sweatshirt? i’m cold” “yeah take it”

“i can’t, me and eli are going to the movies today”

one day you’re sitting with him and his minions (you refuse to call them friends) at lunch

“so eli” -one of the cobra kais “shut the fuck up! you can’t call him that!” -you

hawk has a proud brother moment

anything that you do hawk is like “fuck yeah that’s my sibling!”

his friends are not allowed to look at you, talk to you, have a crush on you, or even think about you

“woah dude she’s hot” “that’s my fucking sister! stay away from her!”

“eli who’s your friend-” “NO!” 

as eli he will buy you period products but is very shy about it

as hawk he will not be caught dead in that isle of cvs

“eli i need them!” “i don’t care! i’ll drive you there and you can run in and get them”

when hawk breaks demetri’s arm you don't speak to him for weeks

you confront him about his new behavior

“this is who i am!” “no it’s not! you’re not my brother!” 

you’re crying and then storm off to your room

that breaks him

is highkey the start of his redemption

when he’s at the fight at the larusso house, and he sees demetri about to get his arm broken, he thinks of your words: “you're not my brother!”

literally motivates him to fix things

you see hawk and demitri and just know that your brother is back

you hug him so tight

“you were right y/n. i’m sorry” “of course i was. i’m always right” “gee thanks” “love you”  

bonus demetri:

he is a nerd, you are a nerd

the two of you watch star wars, marvel, harry potter, etc. together 

“daddy anakin” “please shut the fuck up”

you want to punch him in the face because he is so sarcastic 

it gets on your nerves 

bust out laughing when johnny makes fun of his pi shirt 

“stop laughing” “if it’s funny i'm gonna laugh”

even though you’re a nerd you’re cool 

like you have a lot of friends in your grade 

“demetri if i don’t talk to you at the halloween party that’s why” gestures to his costume 

listen to his rants about how eli’s changed 

you try to give him advice, but it doesn’t work out

so proud of him when he joins miyagi-do

“i'm glad you’re stepping out of your comfort zone” 

demetri tries to get you to join miyagi-do

if you do join great more sibling bonding

if you don’t join no biggie y’all are still besties

y’all go to the comic book store together

its sibling bonding time

you threaten to fight hawk after the laser tag thing 

“hey asshole you leave my brother alone!” 

you sign his cast first

you definitely write some inside joke that only the two of you understand

you see him kissing yas and do a whole 🤮

“so you dating yas?” “idk why” “just checking”

very obvious about your distaste for her

when him and hawk become friends again you’re very wary

“he broke your arm” “he apologized” “he broke your arm!!!”

eventually you and hawk are on semi decent terms

“demetri forgave you and that’s fine but i’m still not over it”

your relationship = the perfect mix of love and teasing  

bonus bonus king bert 🙌🏻:

you are older than him by like a year

but you’re still besties for life 

you’re very proud of him when he joins cobra kai

“im joining a karate dojo” “period pop off”

you always ruffle his hair 

cheer for him at the all valley

“yeah bert!”

but also like you can’t watch 

when he gets eliminated you cringe 

he’s sad about it 

“i just wanted to impress you” “im very impressed bert, you did great” 

your opinion matters so much to him

he’s such a small cinnamon roll 🥺🥺

seeing him with the older cobra kai boys makes you soft

“y/n i’m going out with hawk and miguel can you drive me?” 

bert admires you a lot, like you are his hero

y’all are the best sibling duo and that’s on period

[tobiosmilktea]

umpah umpah! smau

↪︎ bokuto x f!reader x iwaizumi

[033] — epilogue!

masterlist | prev. | next

a/n: this is definitely not my best writing cause my brain was going brr the entire time i was writing this, but i honestly can’t believed i have finished yet another smau! 🥳 ✨if i’m being completely honest this smau took a complete turn to what i was initially planning,, but it ended up not being that bad. i certainly feel like this smau would’ve been a lot better if i didn’t have school preoccupying me 24/7, but i’m still really proud of this. thank you guys for reading and dealing with this messy, messy smau!! ☺️

a year flew by faster than you had hoped. Two weeks turned into a month, a month turned into six, and six months turned into a year. A lot of things can happen within a year. Hell, a shit ton of things can happen within six months, yet here you were, all glammed up in your best dress at the move premiere of love cemetery.

you hadn’t felt this nervous in ages. the quickening of your pulse, the rapidly beating heart, to your pals that perspired as the seconds ticked on by. akaashi stood by you this whole time as your gaze keeps looking over to the guest list as if it were to magically change if you were too look away for one second. akaashi had been by your side, your moral support and the absolute backbone of your sanity the moment you and the team landed in los angeles a year ago. he noticed everything about you. he was one of your best friends, how could he not notice the way you were suddenly quiet and not excited right now?

he laid a careful hand on the small of your back to comfort you, leaning over to the same list of guests you were worrying about. “are you worried about who i invited again?”

“i’m more worried they’re not coming.” you confess without a single beat missed.

“oh, they will,” he assured you confidently. there was even a rising smirk in his expression when he let go of you, “have a little bit of faith in me will you? i was the one who got you back in touch with them.”

you huff playfully, rolling your eyes as you recalled the strange feeling of isolation over six months ago when you landed in la. it was in no doubt the longest flight of your life, lasting a good fifteen hours if you counted the two hour layover in hawaii due to reckless turbulence (it was one of the scariest flights in your life too). you had read their texts then, drowning in the sudden downpour of emotions when you read their words, i love you.

it almost didn’t seem real. you swore it had to have been the fatigue playing games on you as you couldn’t sleep for the life of you on the plane. yeah, maybe that was it, you excused. you were so desperate for their messages to be a figment of your imagination, you literally tried everything—turning your phone on and off, asking sugawara for eye droplets, and even ignored it until you were back on the plane and landed in los angeles. it had to be fake, please be fake. yet, in the back of your head you knew damn well it wasn’t.

there was a plaguing thought within you, one that’s so destructive and degenerative that you hated the fact you thought this way. but it wasn’t like you could help it. insecurity was a troublesome venom that coursed through your veins everyday and there didn’t seem to be an antidote to your own self-destruction. 

you loved them both, but you weren’t entirely sure if you had enough love to give for the both of them, let alone one. iwaizumi and bokuto’s feelings confused you to the core. you broke their hearts, yet how could they still love you so dearly?

you didn’t know the answer nor did you have time to even find it.

the film crew stayed in los angeles for two weeks and filmed over the course of that time period. days were filled with twelve hour shoots and a tight film schedule. being the author of the work itself, you were a major part of the production alongside the director. he trusted your vision and you’d often find yourself staying on set the entire day while kaori and the rest of the ddd team felt like they were on vacation. your only free time during that time was the ten minute holy grails in between takes that you were able to check social media.

you simply didn’t have the time to think about them. and yet they were like haunting ghosts that followed you relentlessly. every time you checked twitter or instagram, you would see every post, every tweet, every story. all of which would send your heart spiraling and tugging.

you missed them. but it wasn’t like you could do anything about it. you couldn’t possibly strike up conversation with any of them after completely ignoring their calls and texts for weeks. you had to have an odd amount of audacity to do that, and you simply didn’t have the guts to do so. if anything, the only lasting form of communication between you and the boys was the ringing notification that you liked each other’s posts.

it was quite the sad reality.

the film set then transferred to new york city, where the next two weeks would be filled with yet another plethora of twelve hour work days. fortunately for you, the rest of the ddd team were pulling a bit more of their weight, helping you on the creative side of things, yet still having the time to do all the fun touristy things whilst in the city.

you could remember the way your heart lit up seeing iwaizumi and bokuto’s names beneath who saw your story. it was a video of you and your team at the lady liberty statue. in it, kaori and yuko were chomping down on gigantic $2 street hot dogs, sugawara was yelling at semi for getting in the way of his film camera, while akaashi was complaining that the wind kept knocking down his green lady liberty hat.

it was strange thinking how fast things can change. within the first week, you were always up for an adventure in the city when the days were filled with work, but as the week progressed, your social meter decreased more and more. 

loneliness hit you then. it was a peculiar type of loneliness, the type that you felt alone despite being surrounded by your closest friends and working on your dream project. you figured you were just homesick the way everyone else was getting all ready for a night out going bar hopping while you sat in the living room of your hotel room in your pajamas.

“are you sure you don’t want to come with us, (y/n)?” kaori asked you, concern washing over her slightly as you flickered her a tired look. 

you shook your head, a small smile of gratitude melting upon your lips. “no, you guys go on ahead and have fun.”

your friends could only give you a look. they knew why you were being like this and they knew damn well it wasn’t homesickness. semi specifically threw you a look that’s meant to be teasing and oddly persuasive. “it’s been over a month, this can be a chance for you to finally meet someone new!” he exclaimed optimistically.

what was stopping you, anyway? it was clear nothing was, yet you still held yourself back. homesickness couldn’t possibly be to reason for it either. why are am i being like this?

“it’s okay, i’m with akaashi,” you decline once more, “he’ll keep me company.”

“alright then, join us once you feel like moving on.” says yuko with a hint of venom in her tone. you couldn’t blame her for saying that though as it was the harsh reality of it all.

your friends filed out the door, closing it in a thud and once again you felt alone. isolated as if you were in a void of your own silent thoughts that even the loud murmurs coming from the television wasn’t enough to drown out your shallow inhibitions. 

the night continued on like this for a few hours. eating snacks in the dark living room with the remote in your hand, flipping channels every five minutes as your running thoughts couldn’t keep your attention span still. it felt like you were missing something, a part of yourself that you couldn’t exactly pinpoint. you thought of all of the possibilities why you felt like there was a void in your heart, yet the only thing you could properly convince yourself on was that you just missed home. but was that really all that you had missed?

you thoughts are interrupted by steps approaching you. akaashi walks into the living room, flicking on the switches and causing you to grimace at the bright lights. your eyes stung slightly as they adjusted from being in the dark for too long.

“where are you going?” you ask akaashi as you noticed his dressed up attire.

“i got done with all the paperwork and emails,” he answers while he fixes the collar of his dress shirt, “i’m deciding to have some fun tonight with the rest of the group. are you still up for it? i’ll wait for you to get ready if you want.”

the thought occurred within you that you should agree. that the possibility of this unexplainable feeling of isolation you were feeling would disappear if you were to just say yes and go. but as self-destructive as you were on yourself, you continued to hold yourself back—hesitant and always second guessing your actions.

you open your mouth slightly, but you ultimately just shook your head no.

akaashi lets out a sigh. he was genuinely hoping you would come around sooner or later. granted, it had been over a month since you guys left japan and he figured you would be over everything by now, but that obviously wasn’t the case. “you might be receiving a call soon... i suggest you should answer it.”

confusion flushed over your expression, giving him a strange look. but before you could even utter a single question to him, akaashi was already up and out the door.

he left you in a wake of curiosity for the rest of the night. it was nearing one in the morning and you still hadn’t yet received a phone call. it honestly sounded incredibly ominous that you grew a tad bit nervous. there were only so many possibilities on who would call, but it would actually infuriate you if akaashi was just joking around. but then again, akaashi isn’t the type to play something childish like that unless it was kaori or semi’s idea. regardless, the thought kept you awake as you eyes practically weighed like cinder blocks at this point.

you couldn’t believe you wait for two hours for a phone call that might not even happ—it shocked you at first, the ringing of your obnoxious ring tone and the buzzing of the vibrations on the table.

furrowing your brows as you reached over, a gasp left you the moment you read the contact name. your slapped a hand over your mouth to muffle your shock. your hand shook from the growing bundle of nerves in your gut as you hesitate.

the name ‘kou’ shined brightly against your face, coaxing you to answer as if your thumb wasn’t frozen the accept button. out of all the possibilities on who would be calling you tonight, it just had to be him. it wasn’t like you opposed talking to bokuto. if anything, you had spent countless of sleepless nights wondering if you should finally answer that text of his. yet no matter how many different messages you have typed, none of them ever saw the light of day. a hurricane of stupid conversation starters and ice breakers swarmed in your head, all messy and disorganized that if you didn’t just suck it up and answered, you would’ve probably missed a chance to reconnect with him.

fuck it, you thought as you accepted the call.

“(y/n)!” bokuto called out to you, sending your heart running thousands of miles an hour. it had been ages since you heard your name come out of his mouth, “how’ve you been? a little birdy told me you needed a little company.”

you had to hold yourself back from smiling too much as you could already feel your cheeks ache. you wanted to scoff and perhaps groan at the sudden embarrassment of what akaashi could’ve told him. “bo—” you started, but is immediately cut off.

yet another familiar voice emitted from bokuto’s line, almost as if they were shouting, “you’re supposed to say that i’m here too, idiot!”

the volleyball player chuckles, “oh sorry, iwa-chan! here.” muffles and cups clanking against each other travel through to line to what you assume is bokuto handing his phone over to iwaizumi.

“uh... hi.” his voice sounded deeper than usual.

“hi iwa, how have you been?” you chuckle, finding his sudden shyness absolutely adorable.

“good, good. i’ve uhh... missed you.”

“i do too.”

“yeah, yeah, you miss me most though right?” bokuto’s loud voice thunders through the call.

the juxtaposition of how daftly different they were was something you could never get enough of. perhaps it was at that moment you finally understood your loneliness through their bickering. you were in fact homesick, but the home that you were thinking of wasn’t what you were missing the most. you suppose the home you missed was them. they were your home.

you let out an amused laugh, “right.”

“that’s good because iwaizumi and i should be mad at you for ghosting us for the past month, but we understand since akaashi explained to us already.”

your eyes suddenly widen into saucers, panicking what he could have possibly said. “what did he tell you?”

“everything,” bo sings.

you audibly groan in embarrassment, throwing your head back onto the couch in retaliation. you were glad they couldn’t see how flushed and red your cheeks were right now as they even extended out to the tips of your ears.

“you know it would’ve been easier to say that you love the both of us and didn’t want to choose right?” iwaizumi points out in between your panic.

“exactly!” cuts in bokuto, “besides we don’t sharing you, you know. who knew you were such a prude, (y/n).” you could practically hear the smirk in his voice as you couldn’t stop the heat from spreading any further from your face.

now you were really glad they weren’t able to see you at that moment. if they did, you would’ve died from the embarrassment then and there. “give me a break, i was too embarrassed to ask,” you mutter, fearing that they could hear how fast your heart was beating through the call.

“ask what?” iwaizumi teases, “ask if you could date the both of us?”

you were internally screaming at this point. everything that you didn’t think was going to happen, happened all within five minutes and you honestly couldn’t believe it. you were pinching yourself as if you were in a dream, yet no matter how hard you squeezed, this was actually happening. “shut up!” was all you could say.

“even if you did ask... it’s not like we could ever say no to you, (y/n).” says bokuto, his words so enticing that you weren’t sure if you’re heart can handle any more of this.

his words left you absolutely speechless. you honestly didn’t know what to say at this point.

"i’m fine with it and bokuto’s fine with it.” iwaizumi says, “it’s just a matter if you’re willing.” 

bokuto then leans forward towards his phone, “so what do you say, (y/n)?”

you swallowed the lump of nerves forming into your throat as the one question you never thought you would ever be asked was right in front of you. and yet you still hesitated despite everything that had just happened. you loved them both, so why weren’t you answering?

a few beats of silence passed before your gained the courage to push out the the very words, “... i’ll think about it.”

“boo! that’s lame!” bokuto shouts.

“i’ll give you guys an answer when i get back home.” you add, hoping to ease the disappointment they were probably feeling at that very moment.

“that won’t be for another few months, though.” iwaizumi deadpans that you could practically see the pout on both of their faces. “but we’ll promise to wait for you, (y/n).”

and so they waited for you to come back home, but you never did. schedules misaligned even when you were finally back home in tokyo. bokuto was getting progressively more busy now that the olympics were coming up and iwaizumi was just as busy, if not busier with the amount of athletes he had to take care of. there was even a constant flying back and forth from tokyo to los angeles for the film, all of which lasted for a few weeks at a time and you swear your couldn’t catch a break.

this went on for months with the only contact between you and the boys were from texting and phone calls that ended up shorter than you anticipated. and now a year had past since you left and this very movie premiere would be the first time you have seen iwaizumi and bokuto for the first time in a year.

this was so ironic how this all played out. you haven’t even realized you already reached the end of the red carpet when an interviewer calls out your name, microphone in hand and a camera pointed directly at your face.

“ms. (y/l/n)!” the woman shouts over the ruckus of snapping photos and other interviewers asking questions to the actors behind you. “there has been rumors going around about your dating life. are you dating msby’s bokuto koutarou or their athletic trainer iwaizumi hajime, who has been getting a lot of attention from stan twitter just recently! could you share some insight on your live life as love cemetery’s creator?”

“um,” you start, not sure how to answer the question as you nervous chuckled, “that’s a secret i’m afraid i can’t tell.”

before the woman could ask you any other questions, you walked away from the carpet and rushed towards the banquet hall. thankfully, akaashi and kaori was nearby and gratefully took your place in the interview without a second thought.

you let out a relieved sigh as much of the noise from the premiere died down as the only people inside the banquet hall were movie critics, the film crew, and other celebrities who were invited. by now, no one in this room would have the audacity to ask you such a personal question which caused weights to fall off your shoulder. you honestly should be used to those types of questions right now as a webtoon author that literally writes romance, but it always catches you off guard when you least expect it. honestly, you were just glad you didn’t slip up.

as a small little reward for yourself, you grab a flute of champagne from the refreshment table, decorated all fancy that you even hesitated to mess up the display. you turn around to face the growing crowd of mingling individuals, talking and laughing amongst each other as you sipped your drink gently. but as you watch you feel a presence on either side of you, both of which sent your heart soaring and a smile to appeared on your cherry colored lips. you didn’t even have to look them up and down to see how handsome they both looked. to think they were all yours.

“so what did you tell that interviewer?” bokuto asks nonchalantly as if he could just get away from a proper greeting. you were surprised he didn’t just engulfed you into his arms then and there.

instead, you opted to play along, “about what?” you tested with a smirk.

“the question about who you’re dating,” iwaizumi adds in from your other side.

you shrug, taking a sip of your champagne, “you guys probably wouldn’t like the answer i gave her.” you could feel the brazen stares bokuto and iwaizumi were giving each other—competitive and oddly provoking.

“she probably said she was dating me,” bokuto hums in response, confidence radiating off him that it caused you to scoff.

“i doubt it,” debates iwaizumi, giving him the same energy. “she probably said she was dating me.”

“actually,” you cut in before the two could possibly start bickering with each other, “i remember specifically saying that i’d thinking about it.” 

the boys give you a look, downing their drinks as if they were like the shots they swallowed many nights ago at that bar. it was as if they were trying to win your over again like your feelings had changed since then. 

“oh yeah?” bokuto starts, inching closer towards you while iwaizumi rested his arm on the table behind you.

“so what do you think, (y/n)?” says iwaizumi.

they both towered over you, just inches away from your body, but you didn’t cower or back away. if anything there was a playful smirk inevitably resting upon your lips.

now this, was going to be fun.

fun facts! —

sugawara has five rolls of film he had to get developed once they wrapped filming in osaka, each roll is from each city they went to for filming

iwaizumi and bokuto became really close friends when y/n left for la as they bonded over getting ghosted

bc of this,, bokuto posted a pic of him and iwa on his instagram and it got lots of attention that iwa went viral on stan twitter

taglist: (closed!)

@moonlightaangel @elianetsantana @k4tiepie @memorableminds @wheeshllumi @suhkusa @kitsunetea @airybby @noeminemi @truly-a-snitch @keichan @cosmicmermaid25 @bap-kingdom @saturnfarie @kwdflash @ennos-baby @dinablossom @chrisrue15 @seikamuzu @nestlevanilla @chasekudo @yammmers @pixcldust @iwaizluv @h0ngh0ngh0ng @emogrils @tiredandkindaoverworked @tsumue @underratedmage @bokutosuwus @kellesvt @unstableye @oh-tapeworm @scrappyfka @alittlebitofrain @mxngy @tpwkatsumu @atsumuwoah @macchiatoast @dicerawr @kageyamasbabygorl @some-random-stranger-007 @vhskenma @wntrmn @little-plants @stargirlara @kissungjae @je11yfishwriter @sbaepsae @apollochjld

[theonewiththefanfics]

Because Hearts Get Broken - I Know That You’re Scared (Part 2/3)

Continuation of ‘Because Hearts Get Broken’ - see my masterlist for it :)

Synopsis: She’s trying to move on. He’s still hoping for a chance

Pairing: Harry Styles x fem!Reader

Genre: angsty, bruh, but with a sprinkle of fluff and a hopeful (??) ending

Warnings: swearing, emotionally distant mindset... can’t think of anything else, really. 

Word count: 3656

Heartbreak isn’t loud. Y/N doesn’t even know if it had a sound what it would be like. Like glass shattering against the ground? Or maybe like a book being ripped and shredded apart, memories of time spent together ruined. Or maybe it'd like the crackle of a fire, as it slowly but surely crept up and turned everything into charred remains before it became nothing but ash and was carried away by the winds.

        No one in her family talked about feelings. If they did all they received back was ‘suck it up. That’s life’. After that, it was time to move on. So, when she got together with probably the most open-hearted person in the world, it was almost laughable.

        Y/N had always been the friend others went for advice, relationship or not, but she herself never asked for one, simply because she didn’t wanna bother anyone. Not that she thought the others were bothers. It’s just having grown up in a household where emotions were basically suppressed, opening up was quite impossible. 

       Then came Harry. Perfect, impossible, loving, sweet, kind, ridiculously open Harry. God, she just wanted to punch him because no one should be that nice. 

        January 2nd, 2020 he’d called her up, having gotten Y/N’s number from Sarah (after ages of pleading, because as much as Sarah sometimes couldn’t handle drunk Y/N, she’d defend and protect her until the very last breath), and they set up a coffee date.

        Slowly but surely, they spent more and more time together and seeing as her job had her based in LA for a while, visiting Harry was no problem. Then the pandemic hit, and on March 18th the whole stay-at-home order was issued in California. 

        Y/N was in a panic. She was meant to leave LA in ten days, and the hotel her company was paying for had been paid until the 28th. With all flights getting rapidly cancelled, she was scrambling to get one, but even her firm was unable to get her a seat. That’s when Harry had called up, his tone a worried, urgent mess as to if Y/N was alright and what her plans were.

        Of course, him being him, he immediately offered her a place to stay.

        “We don’t even need to stay in the same room, there’s like five other guest rooms you can take up,” he tried to joke, and ease her tension.

        “Fuck, Harry, just rub it in how rich you are.” Y/N cackled, and when she heard him laugh in the background, her heart did that stupid fluttery thing she’d grown so used to. 

        It took a little persuasion from Harry’s side, and reassurance at least seven more times, that Y/N wouldn’t be intruding on his space, and he was more than happy to spend the quarantine with someone else, instead of being alone, and that in no way her taking over a room or two would limit him and his own artistic endeavours. So, apprehensively Y/N packed her suitcases, grabbed an uber, wearing a mask the whole time, and drove to Harry’s place.  

When Y/N saw the gated community and the palace he was living in, the inside of her cheek was practically bitten in half. They’d barely been together for three months, and now she was basically moving in with him, but given how it was either live with Harry in a fucking mansion or walk across the country to New York, she took the first option. 

        As much as Harry loved on her, pretty much shagging her brains out every possible second, and loving on her until her cheeks hurt from smiling, the anxiety about the whole situation never left.

Harry was worried about his mom and sister, Y/N was scared of what was happening in New York. So, when the state boarders opened, immediately, although reluctantly, she flew back to her apartment and her dying plants, but never forgetting to FaceTime with Harry. But they couldn't stay away long from one another.

        Which is why they decided, given how she was able to work from home now, and Harry could do so as well, they’d fly over to one another every two weeks, quarantine together for the next two weeks, and then fly to the other place. Her boss actually loved the idea that Y/N was so willing to go back and forth between the two cities, so all her flights were written off as business expenses, not to mention when she said she wouldn’t need a hotel, he was more than thrilled to let her be in LA whenever she wanted, as long as her work got done.

        It seemed funny to her now, that before Y/N couldn’t wait to get back to the sunny state of Cali. Now when she had to fly over (which was just a couple of times since the breakup), going through JFK security made her sweat, and landing was a vomit-inducing action. And the last time she’d gotten back to the home-base state, she’d actually thrown up, Harry’s last words ringing in her ears.

        It’d been three weeks since Sarah’s New Year party, and three weeks since she’d spoken to him although he still kept calling. Every morning she’d wake up to a couple of notifications of missed calls, and each time she’d listen to the messages; it was all the same – I miss your voice. And every time she’d listen to it, her thoughts were exactly the same. You could say it was almost pathetic as to how many times she’d listened to his albums, just to hear him sing. Almost like he used to do right before she fell asleep.

        But Y/N had no one else but herself to blame for it. She’d been the one to call it quits, she’d been the one who walked out of his apartment, and the one who decided she wouldn’t fight. 

        Now, she was sat by her small magazine table, documents spread out in front of her as if a tornado had rolled through, while an apple and cinnamon candle spread its delicious scent through the air. 

        Y/N would only admit it once because, well, the proof was all over the apartment, but she was very lazy when it came to taking away the Christmas décor. It made her feel warm and comfy. And it reminded her of Harry. How when she’d woken up after their first date, already in the new year, he still had colourful fairy lights strung across the curtain rods, giving everything a soft, cosy glow. 

        He’d also been the one who convinced her that a real Christmas tree was so much better than a plastic one. 

        “Yes, it’s a hassle,” he’d said through slurred words as they’d slinked away from the partying crowd after the countdown was done, and each of them had taken three shots of vodka. “But it’s so worth it. Smells like a fucking forest in your room. Like proper Christmas!”

        And although she’d spent this holiday season alone, Harry had been right. Just like he’d been right about Y/N.

        She tapped her pen against the glass surface and readjusted her position on the floor.

        “This is the periodic table, noble gases stable, halogens and alkali react aggressively,” Y/N hummed as she highlighted the incorrect parts of the paper in front of her. “Each period will see new outer shells, while electrons are added moving to the right.”

        Just as she was about to start off the second verse, her doorbell rang, and her stomach gurgled in response.

        “Ugh,” she groaned to herself. “Pasta come to fuckin’ mama.”

        But when she opened the door, she wasn’t greeted by the Uber Eats delivery man.

        “Harry.”

        Y/N was taken aback. She didn’t expect him to visit her, especially not so soon and especially to fly out to New York (as much as he was most likely there to do other stuff as well, her gut told her he was there for her). 

Sure, she hoped that one day they could be friends, if not acquaintances, he was too important of a person for her to lose completely from her life, but that was looking like five years into the future.

        “I bring gifts.” He raised his hand where her boxes of food hung in a paper bag. “Can I?”

        “Uh, yeah, of course!” She shook her head to clear it from the shock and allowed Harry to enter into the warmth of her apartment and escape from the cold January air.

        “I was on my way up when the delivery man came in, and I recognised by the boxes it was yours.” The smirk on Harry’s face was something Y/N loved to see, but usually, she liked to also wipe it away. Preferably with her own lips. 

        She let out a small scoff, not waiting to see if he followed inside, as she scurried to the adjacent kitchen and grabbed two plates, while he opened up the white cardboard containers and allowed the delicious smell of spaghetti Bolognese as well as a carbonara waft into the air. Y/N had wanted to eat the latter at some point during the night when the munchies hit, but she supposed Harry was probably hungry as well. “Maybe there’s someone else here, who likes Italian.”

        “Probably, but only you would order from the shittiest Italian restaurant just because they have pesto and parmesan bread.”

        “Hey!” She slapped his arm. “They’re not shit. They provide me with everything I need – calories, carbs and bread.”

        “What more does a person need?”

        “Exactly!”

        Both of them let out small chuckles and then settled down on her couch to dig into the meal. They ate in silence, and despite Y/N’s initial shock, it wasn’t uncomfortable. In fact, they were sitting pretty much shoulder to shoulder, as she watched Harry re-read the spread-out articles on the table and use her marker to tick some stuff that could use re-wording. He had a knack for words, after all.

        “I uh…” He wiped his mouth with one of the napkins provided by the diner before clasping his fingers together and looking at the woman sitting next to him, as she slowly set her empty plate on the small cupboard beside the sofa. “I was hoping we could talk.”

        Y/N hung her head. She should’ve known he wasn’t here to just check-in and have some dinner. “We already did. Twice might I add. What makes you think this time the ending will be different?”

        “Third times the charm?” Harry let out a little laugh, and she rolled her eyes. “Look, I didn’t wanna leave everything the way I did. I – I said some pretty shit things.”

        Y/N fiddled with her thumb. ‘I had,’ Harry’s words echoed in her head. ‘Only she didn’t trust that I loved her the same.’ “Nothing that was untrue though.”

        “See, that’s where I think both of us are wrong.”

        That was not what Y/N thought this conversation would be whatsoever.

        “I – “ He cleared his throat. “I know I said I didn’t think you trusted me that I loved you enough. I think you know I did – do.”

        If Y/N still had any food in her mouth she would’ve choked on it, as she bit back the rising lump in her throat, but instead of interrupting him, she let Harry continue. “And honestly, it’s not your fault that it fell apart, ‘s my fault too. I pushed you to do something, you didn’t want to, weren’t comfortable with, when you told me not to… just because I wanted to feel important, ‘nd because I wanted to get a role in your life you weren’t ready for yet. And I’m sorry for doing that. I should’ve never forced you.”

        “Harry…” Y/N was at a complete loss. “I – I don’t really know what to say.”

        He took her left hand in his and clasped it, finally able to properly say what'd been eating away at him. “During the New Year party, I didn’t go about it the right way. I was just – I was just still so hurt, and I wanted you to hurt the same because… it didn’t seem like you cared at all, which I know you did… I know you loved me, and…” He took in a deep breath. “I hope that you still do. At least enough to give us another chance. We can take it at your pace,” he instantly added, knowing how she’d react, expecting the sigh and the almost tired and resigned ‘Harry’ that escaped her lips. But he’d say everything on his mind. “You can take how long you need to feel like you can trust me with what’s bothering you.”

        “Harry,” she repeated, but it didn’t seem like he was about to stop.

        “But I think we can do it, and we can do it right this time. We know where we stand, we won't make the same mistakes.”

        Y/N’s hand came to rest against his cheek, and he practically melted, engulfing her palm with his as to not let her touch leave his skin for even a second. “Are you even listening to yourself?”

        “Look, I know, you’re scared, and the thing is, so am I. I don’t want it to end like that or end. Period. But I do want to try again.”

        And if nothing but to humour him Y/N asked, “And if it does end the same way?”

        “It won’t.” He was so sure of it, she had to laugh.

        “Harry, the big difference between us is – you like to talk about your feelings. You like to go through them and stuff. I don’t. I feel… icky when I even think about talking to someone of what I feel. We’re just too opposite.”

        “Opposites attract.”

        “No,” she pointed a finger at him, stifling her laughter, though Harry seemed not to be hiding his smile. “Do not use science against me.”

        He raised his hands as if in surrender. “I’m not, I’m just supporting my point with facts. Scientific facts, that you can’t argue against.”

        “I mean…” Y/N shrugged her shoulders. “I dunno… Maybe it was a good thing we ended it when we did. It was ten months – almost ten – amazing months, but… can you imagine if we’d gone so far as to think about moving in together, and then it fell apart? That would’ve been a whole different kind of a mess.”

        “Do you love me?”

        Y/N sighed, resting her cheek against the couch while she smoothed away his brown locks from his face. “Of course, I do. Don’t think there will be a time in my life I don’t.”

        “Then that’s all I need.”

         “Is that really enough for you?”

        “Yes.”

        And there was no lie in that single word. Did he want for Y/N to feel comfortable enough with him that she talked about whatever concerned her, however small? Of course. But he also wanted her to be comfortable enough to be herself. If that meant her keeping things to herself, and trusting Harry to support her decisions, it’d be enough.

        Her Y/E/C eyes hadn’t left his green ones, and they only widened as he leaned forwards and pressed his forehead to hers.

        “Haz…”

        Fuck, how he’d missed her calling him that. It wasn’t an exclusive nickname by any means, but when it came from Y/N’s mouth, it was the sweetest sound in the universe.

        He was her Haz when he broke a plate, he was her Haz when she threw her head back as pleasure exploded through her body, he was her Haz when he took her hand in his to quell her anxiety, and he was her Haz when he gave her tissues as they watched a movie, and she couldn’t help but cry each time a dog or cat died (or a dragon, but he was a sobbing mess as well because ‘Dragonheart’ messed with them both).

        His lips were so close, and just as they skimmed over her own, Y/N’s phone rang making her physically spring back, eyes like saucers.

        “S – Sorry,” she stammered, scrambling to find the annoying device between the cushions. It was Sarah’s name that lit up her screen.

        “Hey, what’s up?” Y/N started, voice trembling and shaky. God, when had she suddenly gone so out of breath? And why was her head so dizzy, as if she’d just gotten off a rollercoaster?

        “Yeah, he’s here,” she replied, eyeing Harry. “Yeah, just a sec,” and Y/N handed him her phone with a quiet ‘why’s your phone always dead?’

        ‘Didn’t know it died’, he said, but that was untrue. He’d turned it off so this sort of a situation wouldn’t happen; so a call or text wouldn’t interrupt him at the most critical moment. He had to give the universe a proper talk once he was done.

        “ ‘Ello?” 

        Seconds of silence passed, and Y/N didn’t like how weird it was, so she took the empty plates and put them in the sink to soak.

        “Now?”

        She could see the frustration rise in Harry as his forehead creased, and he let a hand rake through his hair. “Fuck’s sake… yeah, I’ll be there in ten. ‘S alright,” he sighed. “Not your fault Sarah. Tell Jeff not to worry, and that I’m not dead.”

        With that, he pressed the red button and ended the call, drumming his fingers against the screen. God, he really didn’t want to leave. Not now. Not after he’d been so close.

        “Uh, work?” Y/N asked, arms crossed in front of her as if she was protecting herself from the answer. 

        “Yeah, sorry. I uh a meeting from tomorrow got rescheduled for tonight, like right now because there was some sort of an emergency from the label’s side."

        “ ‘S alright, I get it. Showbiz never stops.” Y/N motioned to the door. “I’ll walk you out.”

        There were a couple of times in his life Harry wanted to give himself a beating. Once when he was six and Gemma had told on him after he’d broken a favourite vase of their mothers, he decided to get revenge and destroy her favourite plushie. He’d never forget the tears Gem had cried, and how absolutely heartbroken she’d sounded. He vowed although he was the little brother, to never ever let anyone hurt her like that, and if someone did, they’d meet their maker sooner rather than later.

        The second time was when he was still a teenager, One Direction on the rise, and it had gotten to his head just a little bit more than it should’ve. He’d gotten really messed up at a party (which Harry shouldn’t have even been at). The disappointment on his mother’s face as she scolded him through FaceTime was gut-wrenching enough to make him promise to always know the limit.

        And Harry guessed this was the third time.

        He could’ve said no to the meeting. Jeff was there and so was Sarah and Mitch. The three of them could handle it for him. It’s not like he would mind much whatever they came up with if it had given him the time to settle things with Y/N. 

        “It was great to see you, Harry.” She brought him out from the thoughts as she unlocked the door and opened it for him, bringing her jumper sleeves over her palms to hide from the cold outside air. “Really. I – I missed you, and honestly, I’m glad we got to talk. I uh well, take care. And say hi to Sarah from me please.”

        “I – “ he took hold of Y/N’s wrist before she could turn away. “I’m holding a small concert in a week. Here in uh in New York. It’s for charity… I want you to come.”

        “I umm… I’ll have to check if I’m free, but yeah. I will. Thank you.”

        “ ‘S no problem… Sarah missed you like crazy now that you’re not in LA as often… ‘n yeah. Anyway. I’ll put your name on the guest list, so just bring some ID, and they’ll let you backstage.”

        “Okay,” she whispered and gave him a small, genuine smile. “Thank you. I’ll really try to come.”

        “Yeah.”

        And he was going to go without doing anything else. Harry truly was. But as he released her wrist, going to the stairs, he gave Y/N one last glance back, and it was like his feet had a mind of their own, as they carried him back to where she stood by the still open door, grabbed her by the waist and pressed his lips to hers. 

        He expected Y/N to push him away, but to his very huge delight, she didn’t. Instead, her fingers wove through his hair and her legs almost on instinct rose so he could take her by the thighs, wrap them around his middle and press her against the doorway. 

        The groan that Harry swallowed from Y/N only ignited the fire that’d been burning ever since he met her, but it wasn’t the destructive kind, like the ones that leave nothing but charcoal behind. It was warm. Safe. Like the light of a fairy light. Like the embrace of home.

        “Come to the show,” he muttered against Y/N’s lips, as they broke apart, and he set her down on the ground, not letting go until he was sure she was steady on her feet. “I’ll wait for you.”

        With that, he left because if he didn’t, he’d make sure Y/N would be unable to walk for a week.

        And Y/N watched him retreat while her brain fought with her heart.

        What was it he’d sung in ‘Golden’, as he’d twirled her in the sea of bodies and glitter a little bit more than a year ago? ‘Loving is the antidote?’ 

        Maybe love was the antidote to her fear.

        She closed the door.

        And smiled.

Tags (crossed out wouldn’t take):

Everything tags: @lumelgy @palaiasaurus64 @supernaturalbaesduh @breezy1415 @crazy--me @thatawkwardlittlefangirl @sea040561 @staryeyedgirl @deathbyarabbit @s-c-a-r-e-d-po-t-t-e-r @reblogger-not-a-blogger @m-a-t-91 @dalilx @i-need-a-hero-i-need-a-loki @maladaptive-ninja-returns @averyrogers83 @in-the-end-im-still-trash @gallifreyansass @dewy-biitch @avxgers @unlikelygalaxygiver @magicwithaknife @ollyoxenfrees @bnhvrdy @tvwhoresblog @celebsimagines @thatkindofgurl @sj-thefan @teenwolflover28 @lestersglitterglue @im-squished

Harry Styles tags: @sarcasticallywitty15​ @breezykpop​ @girlboss99​ @harrystylesdoesntknowiexist​ @alliyjane​ @sirtommyholland​

A/N: I’ve been listening to ‘Fine Line’, ‘The Periodic Table Song’, ‘Welcome to the Christmas Parade’ (Welcome to the Black Parade mix with All I Want For Christmas) and ‘Rasputin’ Boney M remix exclusively... I feel like a complete crackhead... :D

Decided to tag also those who wanted a part 2 but didn’t necessarily ask to be tagged :)

P.S. I guess there will be a part 3???

P.S.S. if you wanna be added to a tag list drop me a message :)

[hongism]

mists of celeste ➻ ten

➻ pairing: ??? x fem reader ➻ genre: space au, pirate au, space pirate!ateez, angst, eventual smut ➻ Word Count: 4.9k ➻ Rating: M ➻ Warnings: language, violence, guns and weaponry, blood, future warnings tba ➻ summary: Sneaking aboard the ship of a renowned space pirate may not have been the best idea, but you’ll have to make do with what fate has handed to you

⇐ previous | next ⇒

mists of celeste act one ➻ part ten

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The water is cold under your bare feet. The red moon cascades dark light over the lake, and you glance around in search of your typical companion. The water swirls around your ankles as you wade through it, moving closer to the shore. Daichi is at the edge again, squatted down on the rocks. He prods at the pebbles beneath the water with his fingers. As you get closer to him, you see that he’s drawing small patterns in them. They are familiar ones, the same design that lines the skin along your spine. You bring a hand to the back of your neck just at the thought of them.

“You messed up,” Daichi says once you’re within a couple feet of him. A frown comes to your lips. “You used your abilities. In front of many people. You could have been caught, Umiko. Do you not realize that?”

“I do.”

“Then what were you thinking? Have you grown to be that careless?”

You don’t answer the man; instead, you turn away from him to squeeze your eyes shut and try to reign in the anger that bubbles in your gut.

“Do you wish to be caught? Should the military take you back and use you as a siphon? Why be careless now, Umiko? For what? For lives that don’t matter?”

You spin on your heel and kick up some of the black water. It smacks Daichi across the eyes. He flinches away from the attack but doesn’t make much of an effort to block it. He wipes the water away from his face.

A moment later, you find yourself flat on your back in the water. Daichi hasn’t budged an inch, and you know that he’s using his own powers to attack you. You pull yourself up, clothes weighed down by the water, and lunge towards Daichi. He doesn’t even lift a finger to send you crashing to the water again.

“You are careless and juvenile. Too much is slipping through, and you are allowing it. You must hide your markings. You will be caught if you don’t. You are already dangerously close to exposing yourself. Whether you want to face it or not, there is a Siren nearby. You must acknowledge it and guard yourself properly against him.”

“Busy?”

The voice drags you out of the reverie, and you lurch forward as you pull yourself out of the dreamscape. You blink at the scene before you, the black landscape of space looming before you without end. You hadn’t even realized that you let yourself slip into the dreamscape while awake. The man who spoke comes up on your right.

“You’re up!” You exhale, surprise in your tone as you look at the man who smiles like a Cheshire back at you. You haven’t seen him since Yunho carried his scarily limp body off the transport ship. It’s a vague memory, especially since your body was still overrun by the adrenaline in your system. You do remember trying to follow Yunho only to be stopped by Jongho. The Berserker had told you to head back to your room and get some rest while Yunho worked his magic, and you had no choice but to do just that.

“Yea, none the worse for wear,” San laughs out. He scratches at the back of his neck. “Slept for three days straight though. I’m mildly impressed with myself. Almost pulled a you there.” He sends a cheeky wink your way. You scoff at his remark, reaching over to punch his bicep. “Ouch! Hey! Go easy on the goods. I’m still fragile.”

“Oh, quit whining. If you have enough energy to make fun of me, I can hit you.” You roll your eyes before looking back out into space. “What was Yunho’s verdict?”

“Overexertion,” San answers with a sigh. “Using my powers too much in a short period of time. I’m good to move around but I should avoid things that could be taxing. Which means no sex.”

“Oh, you poor thing.” Your elbow finds San’s side as you utter the half-hearted reply. He whines at the impact. “Don’t complain too much or you’ll overexert yourself again.”

“Wow, ouch. I am physically hurt by your words. I cannot believe you would turn your back on me like this when I’m having such a rough time. The ultimate betrayal truly.” San places his hand over his chest, grasping the material of his shirt as he pretends to double over in pain. You award him with a slight glare. It’s enough to cause him to relent and stand up straight, looking out the window as you do.

You’re on the bridge for once. You try to make a point of avoiding the bridge simply because you don’t want to run into Hongjoong, and the captain spends all of his time here so it’s hard to avoid someone like that. You don’t have a choice today; Seonghwa asked that you come to the bridge first thing because Hongjoong wanted to see you. Of course, Hongjoong had to be busy with something right when you came to the bridge, thus here you are now waiting for said man to just hurry the fuck up and get this over with.

“I hate space with a passion,” you mutter after a few moments of just looking out into the vast emptiness.

“You picked a bad line of work then.” You release a laugh, bringing your arms up to cross over your chest.

“Maybe I did.”

“Why do you hate space so much?”

“It’s too big. Empty but at the same time full. So many unknowns out there.”

“Well, there are a lot of knowns as well,” San argues. “It isn’t all bad, is it? There’s a lot of beauty to space, even if you can’t always see it. Like an oyster or a geode. You can’t see the beauty on the outside, but the deeper you go, the more beauty you see. No?”

“I suppose you’re right,” you mutter. You drag your tongue over the front of your teeth, saying nothing more, but San doesn’t seem too bothered.

“It’s a bit ironic for you to hate space yet spend so much time in it.”

“I didn’t have much of a choice. Didn’t have any choice at all really.”

San laughs in response to your comment even though nothing about what you said is amusing in the slightest.

“I understand that feeling all too well.”

You neglect to reply. Something about his words and the tone lingering in them reminds you of what Yeosang had mentioned during the mission.

“San chose what he is, and he chose to be a weapon. He chose what he is on the crew for one very clear reason. It’s all because that’s how San views himself.”

You want to pry and ask San about it yourself, hear it come from his lips and not Yeosang’s, but you hesitate for too long. A door slides open behind the two of you, and you glance over your shoulder to see Seonghwa stepping out of the captain’s cabin.

“Hongjoong is ready to see you both,” he says in a flat tone. You turn to San unaware that he would be joining you in meeting with Hongjoong. It makes you feel mildly better about this situation because at least you won’t be alone with Hongjoong and Seonghwa. “Follow me.” Seonghwa leads the way back into Hongjoong’s room. You follow first, San close on your heels.

The platinum-haired captain is the first thing you see when you enter the room. Then, a large desk covered in papers left and right. Some are maps, others seem like trade agreements, news articles, everything you can think of is splayed before him on the wooden desk. He lifts his head as Seonghwa brings you and San in.

“Did Mingi and Yeosang conclude the trade deals for the cargo yet?” Hongjoong asks, obviously talking to Seonghwa rather than you or San.

“They are still in the midst of collecting signatures and papers.”

As your gaze darts around the cabin, you notice how similar the structure of the room is to the other ship you were aboard not too long ago. You remember the missing bundle of papers all of a sudden, recalling that you misplaced them sometime after being brought to Yunho.

I should drop by and see if he has them. If he didn’t just give them to Hongjoong or Seonghwa already. Would he do that? I don’t have enough reasons to trust that he wouldn’t. Fuck, I should have never gotten caught. Shouldn’t have gotten shot in the first place either. Fucking careless and sloppy.

“Ah, good. The two of you are here.” Hongjoong sighs and drops the papers in his hand as he sees you and San step out from behind Seonghwa’s back.

You shift your weight from foot to foot. A sudden wave of anxiety washes over you. San seems to be in the same predicament; he picks at the skin around his fingernails while looking at the floor. Something about the way the two of you are lined up before Hongjoong makes you feel like a child again, being lectured by your teacher for misbehaving in class. Except this time, it’s far different than that. You stand before a dangerous criminal and pirate who could kill you in the blink of an eye should he not like your response to whatever he asks.

“San. What happened on the mission?”

San lifts his chin to look over at the captain, eyes gaining a bit more confidence as he begins to speak.

“I failed to keep my emotions in check and let Yeosang’s words get in my head.”

“Did you talk to Yunho about it?”

“He tried to help but there wasn’t much he could say or do to help.”

“Yunho isn’t a miracle worker,” Seonghwa cuts in, moving to the side of Hongjoong’s desk. He folds his arms behind his back and stands straight as can be. “He can fix the physical but not the mental.”

“I’m well aware of that, Seonghwa,” Hongjoong mutters back without looking at the Lieutenant. “However, Yunho is more in tune with his emotions than the others. People like that know how to talk to people. San, what is your opinion on the mission and the outcome of it?”

San purses his lips, looking down at the floor now. He takes a deep breath before beginning to talk again, this time in a much quieter tone.

“My own emotions were the cause for the failure of the mission. I should have stayed focused, and it is my fault that the outcome turned out the way it did. There is no one else to blame for it, and I fully acknowledge that. So, I apologize to both you and Lieutenant, Captain.” San pauses and turns to you now, eyes full of regret as he looks at you. “I’m sorry to you as well for my behavior and causing the mission to be a failure due to my actions.”

You open your mouth to respond, to tell him that there’s no need to apologize, just to reassure him maybe. You don’t get the chance to say anything though, because Hongjoong cuts in with another question.

“What happened after the mission?”

“I expended too much stamina using my powers and because of that, I overexerted myself. Passed out from the exhaustion.”

“And why do you consider the mission to be a failure?”

“It was supposed to be a covert mission. Get in and get out without being seen or heard.”

“Did you get what I wanted?”

“Yes, Captain.”

“What did the military on Medra have to report about the situation?”

San looks a bit startled by the question, jaw stuttering as he fumbles to come up with a response. Seonghwa pulls a tablet off Hongjoong’s desk and scrolls around on it for a bit before answering Hongjoong’s question.

“Medra reported a single dangerous criminal, highly trained and dangerous. One who was able to dispatch a unit of soldiers with ease, but one and only one criminal. Used a sniper rifle, pistol, and a knife to kill the soldiers.”

You listen on with a growing pit in your stomach. The more Seonghwa speaks, the more the report sounds like it is you who Medra reported. And if Medra reported you and your identity, then Hongjoong could get rid of you in the blink of an eye. You wouldn’t even get the chance to find your damn papers.

“That one criminal being Levi Tatsumaki, who has already been detained, brought into custody, and sentenced to death for larceny and murder.”

You nearly exhale a sigh of relief. Hongjoong grins at you and San.

“The mission went fine. Yes, your actions got you caught. However, you got the job done and removed a competitor in the process.”

You glance over at San, and his lips are curling down into a scowl. He doesn’t seem pleased in the slightest with Hongjoong’s words. Part of you thinks that he was hoping for Hongjoong to tear him down and ridicule him.

“I’m proud of you, San,” Hongjoong says. There is an uncharacteristic gentleness in Hongjoong’s tone. The cruel and almost evil exterior seems to melt away, revealing genuine concern for San’s wellbeing. “You shouldn’t be so hard on yourself. If I were upset with your behavior and how you handled the situation, we would not be having this conversation. You are well aware of that.”

San nods along with Hongjoong’s words but doesn’t provide any further comment. The captain watches him in silence for a few moments before speaking again.

“You’re dismissed, San.”

The Spectre turns around without any hesitation, following the order with haste, and you opt to watch him walk out until the door slides shut behind his retreating figure.

“Now for you,” Hongjoong says. The warmth he had in his tone with San dissipates, leaving it cold and harsh again. “What is your opinion of the mission?”

“It was just fine,” you say as you attempt to keep your tone flat. “I’m not sure what you want to hear from me.”

“Why did you disobey Yeosang’s orders?”

“I saw an opportunity and took it.”

“Why?” Hongjoong presses further. You tilt your head to the side ever so slightly.

“It was an opportunity. Nothing more,” you reiterate.

“People don’t consider things to be an opportunity unless they see a good outcome to it,” Hongjoong says. He pushes back from his desk and stands up. In a few quick strides, he wraps around the wood and comes to a halt in front of it. Arms come to rest over his chest, and he leans against the lip of the desk while staring at you. “So what was the good outcome you saw in it?”

“I’m not sure what you mean.” You shake your head. “There was nothing to it. I just took the chance.”

“What did you think would happen after you took that chance?”

“I-I don’t know. I wasn’t thinking about that. My… my first instinct was to shoot and kill. That’s what I did.”

“I wonder if that’s what you did with the king as well?” Hongjoong’s tone trails off into inquiry, and he mirrors the tilt of your chin. “But it can’t have been. Nobody ever just takes those chances. They see something in them. I think I have you figured out, Y/N L/N. Even if you don’t want to admit it outright, your first instinct was to protect. You heard that San was in danger, you felt the need to protect him, and you felt the need to repay him for what he did to save you initially. Thus, you wanted to save him. Removing the obstacles in your way was the first step: Yeosang’s orders, the physical distance, the soldiers in your path. You may not want to hear it or admit it, but that is the reason for your actions.”

The man smirks at you as he finishes his crude analysis of your behavior. You straighten your head again, glaring at him with such intensity that Seonghwa takes a step in your direction. Hongjoong lifts a hand to stop him though. He nods his head ever so slightly in your direction as though prompting you to speak your mind.

“You shouldn’t act like you know me because you don’t,” you spit out with vehemence to your tone. “You don’t know anything about me.”

“You’re wrong.” Hongjoong drops his chin as he chuckles. “I know one thing for certain. You are not an Elitist.”

The words cause you to freeze immediately. You feel all color leave your cheeks as your heart plummets, and you think that Daichi was right all along. Your attempts to stay calm and collected go out the window at Hongjoong’s accusation.

“You have a clever method of concealing yourself.”

You bite down so hard on your tongue that it draws blood.

“I’m not exactly sure what you are yet,” Hongjoong says as he brings his chin back up. The words bring immediate relief to your racing heart, and you try not to place a hand over your chest. “For certain, you are not an Elitist.”

“Why do you think that?” You ask in as stable a tone as you can manage.

“I have studied Elitists in the past, and I am one myself. I should know how my own kind behaves by now. They make decisions with their head and only their head. Follow orders they deem fair and necessary. They do not act on impulse and are calm and calculating. You seem to make decisions with your heart, act on impulse, lack a sense of calm, and do not follow orders.”

“That’s false logic. Every single person here is a criminal. Yeosang is a traitor, albeit a loyal one, but still branded a traitor nonetheless. Which one of you has ever followed orders in the past?”

“I specified fair and necessary orders. If you were truly an Elitist, you would’ve seen Yeosang’s reasoning in asking you to stay on the cliffside. If you were only thinking with logic, you would’ve followed his orders. However, you deemed it unimportant because you saw that you had an opportunity to repay a debt. That is all beside the point though. The real reason I wanted you here is because I need to know what you want to be on the crew. You have the same choice that every other person on this crew has had.”

“According to the military, I am a weapon. Don’t you view me in the same light?”

“This isn’t the military, Y/N. You have a choice.”

“I don’t want one. Decide what you need me to do yourself. You obviously view me as a tool to be used, and I am willing to be that weapon until you don’t see any further use for me. Or you can dump me out the airlock now. Or leave me on some planet. Pick your poison.”

“If you are so willing to chuck your life away without a care, why didn’t you just turn yourself in?” Hongjoong asks all of a sudden. “Yeosang mentioned that you told him you have no more goals in life. Either you’re lying to cover for something or you truly don’t care about your life. What’s your game? You could’ve been dead and gone already.”

“That would’ve made me a martyr. That’s not how I want to be remembered. That’s not what I wanted.”

“How do you want to be remembered then?”

“I don’t want to be remembered at all,” you utter. Your tone falls to a hush without you intending for it to, and Hongjoong’s gaze almost softens as he glares at you.

“So you’re running then. Interesting.” He pushes off the desk and drops his arms to his side. You blink at him with question in your eyes. “Very well then. I will have you be a weapon for me if that is how you wish to be treated. You’re dismissed.”

You offer a nod in response before turning around to head out of the office. Neither Seonghwa or Hongjoong say anything else. The door slides shut behind you. You hesitate there for a moment, mulling over what Hongjoong said to you before making your way to the med bay.

I have to get those papers and get out of here as soon as possible. It’s only going to get more dangerous as time goes on, and I can’t risk any of these people figuring out more than they already know.

Your knuckles rap against the cold metal of the med bay door. You have fingerprint access to the room, but it still feels awkward barging into rooms left and right without warning.

“Come in!” Yunho’s warm voice welcomes you in, and you tap at the keypad before stepping into the cool interior of the med bay. “Oh! Y/N, I’m glad to see you.”

He grins from ear to ear as he sees who you are. You return the gesture with a small smile of your own but can’t keep your eyes from darting around the room to see if you can find any sign of your papers.

“I’m really happy to see you up and moving alright. I heard you still managed to handle things with relative ease during your mission.”

“I did, yea. B-But that’s not why I’m here.”

“Oh, of course! Do you need a checkup on your arm? I think those stitches should be ready to come out by now.”

It isn’t the reason for your visit at all, but you’ll go along with it for now. At least until you find what you’re looking for, that is. You seat yourself on the edge of one of the white beds and hold out your arm for Yunho. He takes hold of your wrist, pushing your sleeve up with a gentle touch that causes goosebumps to ghost over your skin. He tugs at the white gauze around your healing wound until it comes completely loose.

“Look at that. Ready to come out as I thought. Do you want me to go ahead and take them out? You can let them dissolve over time if you’d rather.”

“No, no. It’s okay, go ahead!” You motion towards your arm. As Yunho turns around and searches for some supplies, you blink around the room with a darting gaze. Even when he returns to you and starts pulling the stitches loose, you continue to look around.

“Is everything alright?” Yunho asks after a moment. You bring your gaze back to him. His lips are pressed into a delicate frown, and there’s a gleam of concern in his dark eyes. You push it aside with a small grin.

“I just can’t watch you pull them out. Makes me queasy.”

“I can make some small talk if you’d like?”

“Sure…” Your disinterest shows in your tone, however, and Yunho gives up on the attempts to talk with you. He pulls back from your arm.

“You’re free to go. Just don’t go picking at that wound anymore. I don’t wanna have to stick you with more needles.” Yunho winks as he looks at you out the corner of his eye.

“Wait!” You call out when he turns away from the bed. Yunho glances back at you, expectancy in his expression. “Did you – um, did you find anything on me when I first came in? With San, I mean? No, on me. But when I came in with San.”

Yunho tilts his head a bit and frowns at the ceiling.

“I don’t think so?”

“Are you certain?”

“I don’t remember seeing anything.”

“Nothing at all?” You continue to pry. Disbelief crawls into your tone. “A bundle of papers maybe? Tied around the middle?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Y/N. Honestly and truly.”

“Are you sure you just aren’t remembering wrong? Or lying to me? Those papers are really important to me. Did you give them to Hongjoong?” Yunho’s jaw stutters at your accusations, and he releases a huff of air.

“I don’t doubt that they’re important, Y/N. Really I don’t. But I just do not know what you’re talking about. I saw nothing on you when you came in. And if it was something that belonged to you, I wouldn’t take it or give it to Hongjoong. I’m not that kind of person. I thought I’ve made that moderately clear by now, but maybe I haven’t. Whatever was on you wasn’t my main focus. It was treating your wound. I’m sorry.”

If you were in a clearer state of mind, you would not get so blindly upset with him like you are now. However, you aren’t thinking straight and all your brain can think about is the possibility of Hongjoong having ownership of those papers. Without a name to them, anyone can claim them, and it isn’t your intention to let the most notorious criminal in the universe have free pardon papers. You push up from the med bed and exit without saying anything else to Yunho. You’re certain that regret will bubble in your gut later, but right now all you can think about is going straight to your room and figuring out a plan of action in private.

You tap furiously at the keypad outside your door in your haste. It slides open with a whoosh. You aren’t expecting to find anything inside except for an empty room, let alone someone sitting on the edge of your bed. But there San is on the edge of your bed with a trembling knee and picking at the skin around his fingernails. When you step inside, he all but jumps to his feet.

“I’m sorry for intruding!” He says immediately before you can ask why he’s here.

“Do you need something?” You inquire, letting the door slide shut behind you. The lights flicker on when you hit the switch, San almost invisible in the darkness. He opens and shuts his mouth a few times. No words leave him for a moment, then he reaches into his jacket and pulls something out. You lunge forward to snatch the item from his hand before you can think twice. It’s your bundle of papers. The full pardon back in your hands. A laugh of disbelief escapes your lungs.

“I-I’m sorry for taking them,” San says as you look over the bundle. “I should’ve have taken them, and I know that. I was just worried that Hongjoong or Seonghwa would find them. Or worse, Yeosang. They must be important to you for you to have gotten shot for them so I… I tried my best to hide them. I wanted to give them back to you sooner but things just kept happening and I couldn’t get a moment alone with you without someone stopping me. The timing never worked out right, I guess. But I wanted to get them back to you now.”

You drag your thumb over the front of the papers.

“These are my ticket to freedom,” you mutter.

“They’re pardon papers, aren’t they?” San asks, standing across from you. “Meant for you, I take it? I-Is – do you – do you want to return to the military then?”

“Absolutely not,” you deny in a heartbeat. Pulling your eyes up to meet San’s, you can’t keep a smile from overtaking your lips.

“O-Oh. I just – sorry, I just assumed that you want to be pardoned. Um… they – no, nevermind. It’s not important.” San shakes his head. The beginnings of a blush are crawling up his neck and cheeks. Without thinking twice, you reach forward and pull San into a tight hug. You squeeze him against your body, arms folded around his neck. The action catches San off guard for certain, and he flails a little before hugging you back albeit with a lot more hesitation. “You seem really happy,” he says against your ear. You unravel your arms from San and step back to look down at the bundle once more.

“They aren’t for me actually,” you admit. “They’re for someone important and special to me. I finally get to free him.”

“That’s a lot of effort for one person,” San murmurs through a melancholy smile.

“This one person is worth ten thousand. He’s worth any amount of effort in the universe. Thank you, San. I-I – you didn’t have to do that but you did.”

“It’s nothing. Don’t think too hard about it.” San heaves a deep sigh. “I’m just glad I could help in some way.”

“Well, you’ve helped me more than once now. I’m… I didn’t expect that from anyone aboard this ship.” San’s embarrassment melts away at your words. That cheeky smile returns to his lips, and he teases the corner of his mouth with his tongue.

“You could repay me then,” he suggests, sending a teasing wink your way. You blink back in confusion. “A kiss maybe?” You immediately roll your eyes at his remark, swinging an arm at his. He whines when you hit him, falling back as though you hit him with an insane amount of force. You steady him with the same arm and dip in before he can recover. You brush your lips over his cheek. He freezes under your touch within an instant. Red soars up his neck and cheeks.

“There. Maybe next time you can get one on the lips.”

✧✧✧

a/n: here we are at the end of act one!!! one down, fourteen to go 🤡 but anyways! what did you think of the conclusion to this arc? what’s been your fav part so far? your fav character? just tell me anything and everything! i love seeing your feedback and interaction with this story and i’m so excited to share more of it with you guys!

taglist: @faeriewoobin​ @sugarrimajins​ @atinyinwonderland​ @2504-life @lil7bluedragon @sparklychangbin​ @jeong-uwu​ @jeonartemis​

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This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives 4.0 International License.

[make-it-mavis]

Homesick (epilogue)

Song referenced is by Radical Face, my favorite musician in the world, please listen to it below

[ Original | Piano ]

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

From the hole in the wall, Turbo heard the front doors of the arcade close as Litwak left the building, the jangle of his keys as he locked up, and then the call of someone off in their game announcing to all the others that the work day was over.

In approximately fifteen minutes, travel between the Game Stations would be opened up by Surge, and Mavis would be headed Turbo’s way, on her well-practiced route through the maze of wires in the wall. After ten hours of reading, he had fifteen minutes to come up with something resembling a suitable response.

Those ten hours had been restless, fitful, broken up by periods of pacing around the station just to keep up with his racing thoughts. By the end of the day, his mind had become nothing but a blur, indecipherable, deafening, droning, and he gave up the chase. He merely sat on the floor in front of the hole that served as a window out into the arcade, fatigue weighing heavy on his mind and body. Mavis’ notebook had been placed backside-up next to him, lying still like a defeated enemy.

Turbo hugged one knee to his chest, counting the minutes that marched on by, too weary to even construct a proper greeting to have prepared for his partner’s arrival. 

His fifteen minutes were up too soon. Behind him, down the entrance corridor into the abandoned station, he heard a crack of static typical of a sprite arriving via the electrical currents in the wall. A moment passed, and then he heard Mavis’ footfalls approaching with the pace of a sprite carrying a heavy burden. She said nothing, and he stayed silent as well, only managing to look her way once she arrived next to him.

Glancing up, he saw her standing there, alive and whole. Her guitar was slung over her back, and she squeezed the strap across her chest, not quite meeting his gaze. She just eyed the book on the floor, tensed like she was ready to make a dive for it.

“So…” she said, voice low, “...how much did you read?”

Turbo blinked and drew in a slow, deep breath as he offered up the notebook to her in one hand. “All of it,” he exhaled.

Mavis paused in thought for just a moment, but took the book and held it safely against her body. “Hm,” she grunted.

Silence carried on for a while, until Turbo noticed Mavis’ foot twitching almost imperceptibly back in the direction of the station’s entrance. He weighed his options -- asking her to leave would give him far more time to think, but that in itself put a twist of dread in his stomach. So he patted the ground next to him, inviting her to stay and put him out of his misery. Mavis broke out of her indecisive stasis in an almost grateful way, sitting quickly. She placed her guitar off to the side, but rested the notebook on her crossed legs. She skirted her fingers over the ridges of dried paint on the cover as she stared out into the arcade with Turbo. It was some time before the tension in the air relaxed just enough to allow conversation to escape.

“I, uh…” Mavis said quietly, but clearly, “I’ve been thinking about it all day, and… I feel like maybe… after sharing this with you, my uh… intent could have gotten lost in translation. I… wasn’t really clear, earlier. I’m… glad to clarify, if you have questions.”

“If I have questions?” Turbo almost laughed in an incredulous, lost sort of way. Mavis gave him a side glance and an apologetic half-smile, which pricked him with guilt. “Sorry, that sounded kind of…” he shook his head, hoping his thoughts would fall into place, and continued earnestly, “I have… I have questions, of course. I got a lot of other stuff to say, too. I don’t even know where to start.”

“Yeah. I figured that might be the case. It… I mean, I know it was a lot. But just…” she shrugged, “just be honest. Don’t think, just start talking. It’ll come. That’s a trick that always helped me in counselling.”

Turbo took a second to just look at her. She looked back at him with eyes that were at once so anxious and so open. This was the girl who used to shove him just for sitting a bit too close. This was the girl who, since their reunion, had shocked him awake so many nights with shrieks and sobbing over night terrors, coming apart in his arms and still refusing to share her fears with him. As he looked into her eyes, he could still see fear. But her gaze was steady, unwavering, with not even a twitch to suggest she was about to turn away.

A quiet awe stirred in Turbo’s chest, and the desire to match her bravery.

“Mav, you know, I…” he sighed, turning his gaze forward again, “I… just… I know what you’re trying to tell me with all this. I am… gonna need some clarification, though. You said, in there, I’d find proof that… y’know, that any of this,” he gestured around to the desolate, cold station they sat in, “...is any good for you. And I gotta say, I feel like I found a whole lot more evidence to the contrary.”

Mavis thought about that for a moment, and seemed like she had something to say, but apparently decided she wanted to hear his take first. She prompted, “Like what?”

“Pfft,” Turbo shrugged dramatically, gesturing a bit to the book in her lap, “like… all of it. I… I don’t like hurting you, Mav. I know I’ve said that already. But damn, have I just hurt you time n’ time again. And from what I read in there, y’know, eventually, you were makin’ a better life for yourself without me. Now I’m back, and I’ve roped you into this dumpster fire of a life I’ve got now. I’m just… bad for you.”

He managed to meet Mavis’ eyes, and they were a little pained. Her brow furrowed as she thought for a moment, picking her words. “Turbo…” she began carefully, “I have made a better life for myself. But it wasn’t made better by the absence of you. It was made better by the work I did. Me being here is not ruining everything I’ve worked for. I’m still sober. I still have a functional social life. I am doing really well. No one else is gonna change that, not even you."

Sighing, Turbo pushed his hand back through his greasy tangle of hair.

Mavis added softy but firmly, “I choose to be here. We make our own choices, remember? We had a pretty damn similar conversation, the night before you left.”

“I know,” Turbo muttered, his fingers still woven into his hair. “I know. I just… I meant what I said, that night. I still want to be good for you. As good as you are for me. That's probably a pipe dream nowadays… I mean, what can I even offer you anymore?”

A soft exhale left Mavis’ nose. “Are you kiddin'? Even just the knowledge that you’re alive would have been good enough for me. But on top of that… I get to see you. I get to talk to you. I get to touch you. All things I thought I’d never do again.”

Turbo glanced at her, and found her smiling sadly.

She continued, “And, best of all… I get a second chance to help you, now. To be there for you… the way I wish I'd been before. That's good enough for me.”

Mavis’ words brought up thoughts about certain parts of the book, parts he found particularly distressing. Parts that loomed the largest in his mind, at once the most important and most daunting to face. He turned his head to look at her properly, scrutinizing her, feeling his heavy heart burn in his belly. 

“Mav…” he said, catching her gaze in his and holding it silently, long enough for her sad smile to fade, and for the seriousness of his tone to really solidify. “You said, in that book, that you felt like you’d failed me. Do you still think that?”

She seemed a bit taken aback. “Oh,” she said, eyes darting to the book in her lap. “No. I’ve moved past most of that by now.”

“‘Most?’”

“The worst of it, yeah,” she gave him a short glance and a shrug. “At its worst, I thought I’d gotten you killed just by being in your life. None of that’s on the table anymore. But, you know, even if it wasn’t my fault, that doesn’t mean I can’t have… regrets. Things I wish I’d done better.” 

“...You did not fail me, Mav.”

At that, Mavis locked eyes with him again. Beyond anticipation for an explanation, the emotions on her face were hard to read. When she simply waited, Turbo blew out a sigh and looked out into the arcade again.

“Look… I don’t blame you for… blaming yourself,” he explained. “I didn’t exactly leave you with much evidence otherwise. So, I’ll tell you right now. The morning that I killed Roadblasters, and I left you alone in my bed, I didn’t say goodbye, because… I fully expected to see you again that night. I didn’t plan to do what I did. I just… did. Mav, you…” he closed his eyes, unable to keep a twinge of pain from entering his voice, “...you did more for me than anyone. You did… everything. But… nothing you could have done… or anyone could have done… would have mattered. I know that because… no one’s ever meant more to me than you, and even so, I… didn’t think of you at all… when I attacked Roadblasters. I didn’t think of anyone. Not you, not my brothers, not even myself. I just… shut down. I couldn’t feel anything. Nothing felt real. Next thing I knew, I’d just… destroyed everything I had.”

Turbo paused to breathe, exhausted by the weight of his own words. Burying his hand in his hair again, he bowed his head to rest it against his bent arm, and waited. It took a little while, but Mavis eventually started a quiet, sober reply.

“I know. I get it. I spent so long trying to figure out just how the hell you could do what you did, but… then I learned the hard way that believing you’ve lost something so important to you can drive you to do some… crazy things, to say the least. I’m just lucky that I had so many sprites willing to help me. I know what you did wasn’t my fault. I just wish that I could have given you the same help I’ve gotten. Maybe it would have made a difference.”

With a small sigh through his nose, Turbo opened one eye just to peer at her from the corner of it. She had her knees up, resting her folded arms on top of them, and she was looking out into the arcade, eyes clouded with wistful thought. After a second, she noticed him watching her, and offered him an affectionate half-smile.

“Thank you, by the way…” she nodded a bit. “Y’know, for saying that. I think I still needed to hear it.”

After reading all day about his dear partner’s prolonged suffering, her smile was a ray of sunlight on Turbo’s face. It served to calm him, to slow his thoughts just enough for them to appear clearly again, and as they did, everything he had longed to tell her over the course of the day came back to him. 

One thing in particular demanded to be first.

“There’s something else you need to hear,” he told her.

“What?”

Turbo straightened up, leaning back on the heels of his palms, gaze turned forward again. He licked his lips in thought as the words formed fully, and then began to speak. “I should have told you sooner. I guess I didn’t realize just how important it was for you to know, not ‘til I read that you thought my ‘death’ was on you, somehow. See… I guess I have to begin this with… a confession of sorts,” he gave her a bit of a rueful look. “You remember, back when I got hooked on your Shield buffs, and I eventually kicked the habit, so to speak… I told you I got rid of all the buffs I had stored up. Sold ‘em, gave ‘em away, whatever.”

“I remember,” she nodded with a knowing look. “You kept one, huh?”

“Yep. Did you know?”

“No,” she smirked, “I’m just a recovering addict.”

“Fair enough,” he managed a small smirk back, before turning his eyes back to the glimmering lights of the arcade. “Anyway… I kept one, just one, in a question block, tucked away in my garage, where I knew you wouldn’t find it. It stayed there for… at least a couple of years, and I never touched it. But the morning of the… incident, I… I took the block with me into gameplay. I just threw it in my car and drove around, waiting for a quarter alert. I… don’t know exactly why I did. I guess I was just… desperate for some way to get through the day. Maybe I thought I could use the invulnerability to my advantage in-game, and drum up some attention. Give the gamers something fresh, y’know. But it didn’t matter, ‘cause… no gamers came, anyway. They were all at Roadblasters, as usual. That’s… right around when I lost my mind… and drove out into Game Central. I… did everything I did, and then… when I crashed that Roadblasters car into Game Central, and I was wedged beneath it, I thought, for a second, that I was done for. But… then I remembered that I still had the Shield buff.”

He paused to look over at Mavis, certain that by that point, she must have known where the story was headed. Her eyes were wide and severe, lips parted, confirming his suspicions. Knowing that she needed to hear it out loud, he continued.

“I took that Shield… right before that explosion hit. With the invulnerability, and the chaos, I was just barely able to make it out and slip away. I made it into your game, and… after the Shield wore off, I felt all the code in my car… burning into nothing. I started glitching so hard that I lost consciousness… and I woke up… weeks later… finding that I’d fallen into darkness beneath your game’s map. What I mean is... Mavis… I wouldn’t have survived without the buff you gave me.”

He looked deeply and steadily into her eyes, ensuring that she was listening very clearly. “You blamed yourself for my death? You saved my life.”

Mavis was stunned to silence and stillness, unbroken even by breathing. The meaning of his words seemed to settle over her like snowfall, the chill bringing a tremble, and the growing weight hanging heavy on her shoulders. Her gaze broke gently away from his, falling into a deep well of thought that began to softly overflow down her cheeks. A shuddering breath finally left her, joined by a look of shaken, reluctant, overwhelming relief.

Turbo shifted himself until he sat hip to hip with her, and wrapped an arm around her shoulders, guiding her to cry against his collar. Her tears came quietly, but she trembled as if a foundation deep inside was crumbling. Turbo could only hope that was a good thing as he held her close.

“I’m sorry,” he muttered into her hair, voice quivering, blinking out a couple tears of his own. “I’m sorry for everything you went through. All the grief I put you through. I’m so sorry for leaving you, right after I promised I wouldn’t. Right after I begged you not to leave me. How could I do that to you, Mav?”

Mavis sniffed, and after a couple of deep, unsteady breaths, she managed to soothe most of the tremors out of her body. The only reply she offered him was the act of taking his hand and lacing her fingers through his. Trying not to become too distracted by the sudden heat in his chest, Turbo just squeezed her hand tightly and kept talking.

“I can’t believe everything you went through in the time I was gone. I’m honestly… I’m amazed that you’re even here with me right now, and you didn’t end up just another… casualty to my... phenomenal mistake. You know, I… I couldn’t see everything from under your game. Most of the stuff in that book, I had no idea of. But from what I saw of you… I was worried. I saw you taking GC. I already figured you would never want to speak to me again, but… sometimes I wondered if… you’d even be around to get the chance. But, here you are… somehow stronger than ever. You’re…” he sighed in broken awe, “...amazing. I’m damn lucky you’re still in my life. It’s more than I deserve.”

By the time he finished talking, Mavis’ tears had slowed and her body had calmed. She had moved from burying her face against his collar to simply leaning her head on his shoulder comfortably. Silence carried on for a little while. Mavis rubbed her thumb absent-mindedly over Turbo’s hand, more than once taking a breath to speak and saying nothing. 

At last, she said slowly, thoughtfully, “Turbo… That letter I wrote for your funeral... Do you want to know what it said?”

Turbo’s heart stalled for a beat, and his ears flushed with burning curiosity. The fact that she was the one to bring it up washed a small wave of relief over his mind. “Yeah,” he breathed. “I do.”

“Well…” she began, taking a brief pause for thought. Against his shoulder, Turbo felt her jaw tighten for a second as she swallowed, and the breath she drew in after was audibly dry. When she continued, her words were as carefully measured and balanced as the first steps of a tightrope walk. “It said that… despite anything I might have written in that book… I don’t regret letting you in. I’m glad you were my friend. When I lost you, I was angry, because I felt like you’d stolen my happiness away, but in the end… it was worth it to have had that happiness at all. To have learned that friendships could bring that much joy in the first place. You… helped me realize that…” she sighed with a shrug, “...love is worth the risk. It’s worth braving the grief for. Because, the fact is… from start to finish, with the highs and lows alike, knowing you has changed my life for the better. You’re just… so much more important to me than I ever told you, or even understood for myself. And, in the letter, I also told you that… even though it was too late for me to keep you safe, I would guard your memory, and watch over it always, like I promised.”

No appropriate, or even coherent, reply came to Turbo’s mind. He stared ahead, but saw nothing, all his senses distracted by the hot sparks bursting out of his racing heart. 

“So…” Mavis concluded, “we might have different ideas about what you deserve, at this point. But can you agree, after everything you just read, that I deserve this chance to keep you safe for real?”

Turbo took a deep breath, struggling to keep from trembling, failing to keep a few tears from escaping down his cheeks. Squeezing her shoulder, he simply replied, “Yeah. Okay. You win this round.”

She gave a short, quiet laugh of appreciation. “That’s not a sentiment I hear from you every day.”

He smiled. “Har, har.”

For a time, the mere act of being nestled against each other seemed like conversation enough. A long while went by without a single word spoken. Thoughts still swirled around Turbo’s tired mind, ones that had to be shared, but he was able to string them together at a calmer pace. Just as he was about to break the silence, Mavis beat him to it.

“Out of curiosity…” she muttered, “in the book, around the part where I describe the buff trip I had, the one where I remembered our last night together… and I promised that no matter what happened, I’d never forget you… Was that just part of the hallucination? Did you actually hear any of that?”

“I didn’t. But it sure came true, huh?” He half-smiled regretfully. “You’re the one sprite who’s gonna remember me properly.”

“Not the only sprite to miss you, though. That’s something.”

“Yeah, something…” he mumbled, recalling exactly what it was that Mavis wrote. “And, hey. For the record. I remember what you said about yourself in that promise. Get that out of your head, alright? No one’s ever gonna forget you. How could they?”

“Oh,” Mavis sat up a bit from his shoulder, caught off guard. “Geez, I really did write everything in there… It’s not a problem, T. I kind of don’t care anymore. That’s… Easter Egg stuff, y’know. I was talking more about the gamers than anyone else. As for the rest of the arcade, well, I’m sure I’ve caused enough trouble here to make something of a lasting impression.”

Mavis punctuated the end of her sentence with a cheeky grin and a wink, but there was a deflective air to it that Turbo found impossible to ignore. His brow furrowed, and he did not return the smile.

“You know you’ll be remembered as more than just a pest, right?”

Her smile fell slowly, and she averted her gaze with a small clearing of her throat. “Yeah. Maybe.”

Turbo searched his mind again, trying to pinpoint what he was about to tell her just a moment ago, feeling quite urgently that she needed to hear it.

“Mavis… I didn’t write you a letter, or anything like that,” he said gently, “but… when I was trapped under your game, I thought about our last night together a lot, too. And… there was definitely something I wished I’d told you then. I was, uh… never sure if either of us would live to see another day, so I figured I’d never get to say it. Do you want to know what it was?”

Quiet curiosity took over Mavis, and she merely tilted her head at him in response, her eyes a conflict between eagerness and trepidation.

Turbo’s gaze fell to their entwined hands. Once upon a time, all the contact Mavis could manage was her pinky hooked under his. There was something remarkable about the sight of all of their fingers woven together, something that gave him the courage to speak the truth. 

“Okay…” he breathed a soft sigh before beginning. “It’s… not much. I didn’t really dream of wasting much of your time, if I somehow got to speak to you again. Thinking back to that night, I just kept remembering the stupid-ass thing I said about… the gamers wasting their love on you. I… couldn’t get your reaction out of my mind. How hurt you were. How hard you cried. I cut you so deep, Mav. I know I apologized already, but I should have said more than that. You should know that…” pausing for another steadying sigh, he squeezed her hand, “...I’m not wasting my love on you. I’ve always known that I… don’t exactly have a lot of love to divvy up between a lot of sprites. I knew that if I was even capable of falling in love… that one sprite would get everything I have to give.”

He raised his gaze to meet Mavis’ once more, finding her expression soft, her eyes glassy. A small, sweet smile was pulled into her cheek. The fact that she did not seem surprised at all was a deep, cleansing relief, and it made his closing words come easier than he could have imagined.

“Mav…” he said lowly, resting his forehead against her temple, “I’m so lucky that one sprite is you.”

A single, affectionate laugh blew from Mavis’ nose, and Turbo felt her fingers brush against his jawline. “Sweet talker,” she accused him with a whisper.

“Hey, you said yourself,” he breathed through a smile, “my poetry ain’t half bad.”

Mavis released Turbo’s hand to cup both sides of his face, pulling him back from her enough to lock him in her grateful, adoring gaze. “Thank you,” she mouthed, before planting a short kiss on his lips and twisting her body to trap him in a hug. He squeezed her back without hesitation, nuzzling tightly against her neck. Holding her was a blessing. She was in his arms, safe and whole, despite everything. He was not eager to let her go again.

But there was one more thing that Turbo had to address. It seemed, after the embrace carried on long enough to put an ache in his twisted joints, that it was time to stop putting it off. Looking over Mavis’ shoulder, he stared at her guitar, laid on the floor close by.

“So, Mav…” he mumbled, “did you, uh… ever write lyrics to that song you wrote for me?”

“No,” she rubbed his back. “Sorry.”

“Well…” he swallowed, voice failing a bit, “...I did.”

Mavis’ breath caught, and her body stayed frozen for a moment, before she held him back by the shoulders and gave him a quizzical look. “What?”

Suddenly, he found it hard to maintain eye contact. “Yeah. Uh… I mean, you know I saw the whole funeral.”

“Yeah, but… you wrote lyrics? How? I barely had the melody down!”

He shrugged. “You were outside for most of the time you spent coming up with the tune. I just… listened in. And I memorized it. And… then I wrote lyrics.”

Mavis turned her head and squinted sideways at him.

“Do… you…” he spoke slowly, “want… to hear it?”

“I…” her incredulous gaze fell, and the tension in her body relaxed. “Yeah. Of course.”

“Grab your guitar.”

With that, Mavis turned and pulled her old, scratched-up guitar into her lap. As she started making sure it was tuned properly, Turbo took the opportunity to place himself behind her and wrap his arms around her waist.

“Now…” he began, unsure, “do keep in mind, that… I guess, uh… this is kind of like my… notebook. What I mean is, I didn’t think I’d ever get to show you this, either. And… I was in a different space, so… it’s pretty… sad. Just… keep that in mind.”

“Alright. Yeah. I get it,” Mavis agreed. With a glance over her shoulder, she told him, “Ready when you are.”

Adrenaline sent tremors deep into Turbo’s belly, but Mavis’ bravery in sharing her deeply personal journal was, somehow, so contagious. She could share her deepest scars, so he could do the same.

“Okay,” he whispered. “I call this one ‘Homesick.’”

The word earned him one more silent, meaningful glance, and he responded with a kiss pressed to her cheek. From there, it was a deep breath in, a deep breath out. Fingers against her belly, he gently tapped a tempo to lead her into the song.

One, two, three… One, two, three…

“Well, I left my home on hollow bones

While you were curled and sleepin’

And I wandered far beneath a concrete star

And I slept along the highways

But even though I am lost all the time

I’ve got hooks in my sides that you left there

But you’re not the same, you died along the way

Now we’re ghosts, and we’re prayin’ for winter…”

For a few beats, he rested his broken, quiet voice. Mavis’ head turned, but she did not look at him, nor did she stop playing, for Turbo’s fingers still tapped against her. Softly, he carried on the mournful serenade.

“Well, I found a wheel that squeaks and squeals

And I left it on your doorstep

‘Cause I heard that you might be broken, too

And I thought it could keep you company…”

As the final chorus arrived, Turbo heard Mavis’ trembling voice join his own.

“But even though I am lost all the time

I’ve got hooks in my sides that you left there

But you’re not the same, you died along the way

Now we’re ghosts, and we’re prayin’ for winter…”

[imaginesfora3]

It’s About the DRAMA [Sumeragi Tenma] [Pt. 2]

(Second NSFW part to the Tenma commission I did! Please enjoy~)

Even after two entire years Tenma found his heart still beat for you.

When he was around you he could hardly think straight but he was so addicted to the feelings you gave him, the true happiness he felt at seeing you smile or hearing you laugh, he couldn’t pull away. He’s plagued at night by thoughts of you, of thoughts of what could be if he could strike up the courage to ask you on a real date and not just to ‘hang out’. He always went in with the intentions of revealing his feelings, like when he’d invited you out to karaoke that one night and sang a love song that felt reminiscent of this particular situation with you, but everyone and their mother seemed to get in the way. The meaning of the song completely flew over your head and you’d complimented his singing voice, teasing about the next production being a musical starring him.

A few days after the karaoke catastrophe he’d been trying to think of a good way to confess his feelings but could think of nothing that didn’t make him feel pathetic, knowing feeling like this was natural but still hating how soft it made him look. Did women even like men who got this emotional and romantic when it came to him? His naturally abrasive self had been far too used to people fawning over him no matter how he acted but if it was his fame they fell for and not him or his actions, then it wasn’t real love, was it? Just infatuation. It’s the reason why he’d kept his distance in the dating world for so long despite all the interest in him as young handsome actor.

Or at least one of the reasons.

While he was stuck in his thoughts about his sad dating life Banri had entered the kitchen, starting a welcome conversation about clothing styles that served as a distraction for about two minutes. Said distraction quickly fizzled out when you entered the room looking more stunning than Tenma thinks he’d ever seen you, the dress you’re wearing hugging every curve of your body and leaving only the best bits to his imagination. Banri was quietly appreciating you too but was far less obvious about it than Tenma, glancing over at his friend and smirking as Tenma’s eyes drifted down to your ass the moment you’d turned around.

“Keep it together, man.” Banri elbowed him which caused Tenma’s head to snap back up, just in time for you to turn around and face them. “Where are you going lookin’ like that?”

“Out with friends. That okay, dad?” You stuck your tongue out at Banri who fired off some comment about how it was hard to believe you had a life outside the company but Tenma wasn’t listening, not really. Now his thoughts were just plagued with the thoughts of wining and dining you, but the actions that took place after said wining and dining had finished for the night. It’s taking all the will power he had to keep his jaw from hitting the ground when you swung around once more, grabbing a jacket before waving to the two men in the kitchen and being on your way. He wanted desperately to call out your name, to bring you back so he could soak in your beauty for just another second, but you were gone before he’d found his voice again.

“The hell was that about?” Banri was looking at him incredulously, “You stared so hard your eyes could’ve fallen out of your head. You got it that bad for her?”

“…Huh?” Tenma wasn’t listening again, now he was desperately fighting a losing battle against his dick. “Yeah, whatever.”

Banri doesn’t say anything else but it’s clear he’d picked up on all the signals Tenma had been sending your way, not really knowing how to help his friend out if he couldn’t even admit the feelings were there. He simply stuffed his hands in his pockets and walked away, leaving Tenma standing at the counter for a few more minutes, not even realizing he’s alone. When Tenma finally noticed Banri was gone he didn’t feel so self-conscious about the bulge in his pants, making a mad dash for his room and hoping he didn’t run into any other troupe member on the way there. It was the weekend so most were either holed up in their room getting much needed rest or out and about having fun until it was time to be back to business.

Tenma had never been more grateful that Yuki was a shopaholic as he clambered into his bed, leaving the room empty so that Tenma could handle his business. He hardly found the energy to masturbate but when he did he knew how to be quick about it, something very necessary for living in this dorm with a roommate who was almost always there.

Tenma glanced nervously at the door, worried about someone busting it down though there’d be no reason to do so; he could’ve locked it if he really wanted to but he didn’t feel like answering Yuki’s questions should the younger boy come home and not be able to get into his own room. Tenma’s hands slid down his pants and he rubbed his dick through his underwear, unzipping his jeans to give himself more room to work with and turning away from the door, just in case the whole ‘busting in’ scenario happened. It’s not comfortable enough so he decided on laying on his back, pants fully pulled down as his hand strokes up and down his length. He’s thinking about you, your ass, your mouth, your voice, everything that had to do with you was so incredibly attractive that he knew he’d come sooner rather than later as long as he kept up the pace. Your name slipped from his mouth, an accident, one that he didn’t think would cost him as dearly as it did.

“Tenma…?” The door creaked open but he didn’t process it quick enough, continuing to pump his length, finger stroking over the sensitive head when he realized your voice was no longer just in his head. His head whipped towards the door and he meets your eyes, his heart dropping down to the underworld as he realized you were staring at- “Fuck! I’m sorry!”

You hadn’t realized Yuki wasn’t in. Part of your jacket was ripped and you had simply wanted to come see if he could fix it up for you, having a replacement if need be, but instead you’d walked in on… An oddly attractive and incredibly embarrassing scene. You felt guilt seep into your bones at the horrified expression on Tenma’s face, watching as he rolled onto his side to fix himself quickly while trying to sputter out excuses that just wouldn’t form into full sentences; you couldn’t really blame him, this was probably in his top ten most mortifying moments now. You should’ve knocked, you know you should’ve, but now you knew that the carpet matched the drapes and that his dick was rather sizeable and-

You shouldn’t be thinking these things about him.

But hadn’t he been calling out your name?

Had he been thinking those things about you?

It wasn’t as though there were signs that Tenma might feel some type of way towards you. You’d seen him gaping at you in the kitchen and felt rather proud at his reaction, even turning around again to give him a view of all that you had; you hadn’t even realized you were showing off for him until you’d walked outside and the cool night air brought you back to reality. You weren’t in some sleazy romance novel, Tenma deserved romance and flirting and the whole shebang, not just sexual tension. Azuma had been the first one to bluntly point out that Tenma was clearly in love with you, head over heels, no doubt about it, and since Azuma seemed to be the expert in these you had truly wanted to believe him. You didn’t at first but the longer this tension between you and Tenma continued to grow… After this incident, after definitely hearing your name come from his mouth as he was certainly masturbating… Maybe you had to stop ignoring it.

Maybe you just had to deal with the fact Tenma loved you.

But how?

You don’t find an answer for another year.

Tenma’s career was in full swing meaning you rarely saw him around anymore, something that both broke your heart and brought some type of relief. As much as you wanted to confront him on his feelings you still hardly understood your own, nervous about the concept of dating someone younger than you, worried that you hadn’t interpreted the signs correctly. You had no doubt Tenma would be a good boyfriend but would you be good enough for him? It wasn’t to say you weren’t a good, loving person but would you be enough for Tenma? Popular, famous Tenma who practically had women throwing themselves at him left and right, who worked with gorgeous movie stars and was messaged by famous models daily?

He’d been gone about six months at this point but Summer Troupe’s annual play was coming around and he was ready to come home, to see his friends and live in the dorm once again. He’d contacted you and asked for you to pick him up, almost not bothering to send the text as he was still embarrassed by the entire masturbation situation. He didn’t think the moment would weigh so heavily on him but unless he was completely delusional, he was certain you’d stared at his dick until he’d turned around, not even bothering to look away (the same exact thing he’d done to your ass about ten minutes before). Did it mean something or was it just the shock? There was no easy way to get an answer and he hated that the most about this, about all of this romance crap.

The wind is knocked out of you when you see Tenma in the airport, walking towards you and Sakuya (one of the only free members who happily wanted to accompany you to get his fellow troupe leader) with his sunglasses and hat pulled down over his face. He somehow managed to keep growing even over such a short period of time, looking taller, more mature, more put-together… You realized you’re staring at him too long after he’s greeted you without saying anything in return and you forced a smile to your face.

“H-Hey there, hope that time with all the big wigs can help our play shine!”

“You know I always do my best.” His response was awkward but so was your previous statement so you can’t blame him. The walk back to the car is thankfully silent as it’s clear Tenma is quite exhausted and you wondered if he’d just fall asleep on the ride back, leaving even less room for you to make a fool of yourself.

“You really do seem more mature, Tenma,” You offered up another observation as he packed his bags into the back of the car. As much as you didn’t want to make yourself look stupid you had missed him dearly, those weekly phone calls not being enough to satisfy you. You used to talk to him every day, at least getting to see his face even if he was busy, but being overseas and filming left him too busy to keep that same routine. You understood why and you didn’t blame him but now that he was finally in front of you, you couldn’t just pass up the opportunity to talk or tease him like you used to.

“Ah, thanks…” He rubbed the back of his head sheepishly, looking away from you, “You… don’t feel like you’ve changed at all.”

“What does that mean?”

“I-It’s not a bad thing.”

‘It’s like coming home,’ Tenma thought with a smile, ‘I am coming home, I guess…’

“You guys must’ve really missed each other, huh?” Sakuya laughed from the back seat as you and Tenma entered the car. “We all missed you but not as much as she did! Whenever we were having trouble figuring out a scene, she’d always say ‘I wish Tenma was here’ or something like that!”

Sakuya, as innocent as he was, was absolutely killing you right now.

“Do you have any stories about being on set? Ooh, what about the places you visited while you were away?” Sakuya interrupted the growing tension, leaning forward into the front seat and looking at Tenma curiously. He might’ve just put you out there but he’d saved you just as quick, successfully distracting Tenma who seemed more than happy to tell Sakuya of all the things he experienced while he was away. You listened in while you drove, enjoying both the sound of his voice and the content of his stories, pleased even more to hear that none of his time was spent with other women.

The dorm was buzzing with energy when Tenma finally arrived.

“Summon the troops up front Muku, a celebrity has finally arrived!”

Tenma smiled weakly at  your attempt at humor but there was still come clear tension left over, something he was quick to blame on jet lag. Why did seeing you again in person leave him breathless? Why did his heart ache even though you were right there in front of him, arm’s length away? The distance had done nothing to placate his feelings, perhaps making it even worse, and he finds himself selfishly wishing he could just have you all to himself for a night.

He’d missed everyone at Mankai without a doubt but you were a special case.

Tenma is bombarded with questions, he’s given gifts and poems and all sorts of things that the others had made for him while he was gone or to welcome him home. He’d never felt more loved in his life and as he accepted these gifts, cheeks red from embarrassment while he also made sure to thank each person who gave an offering, he noticed your were absent from the general hubbub. While Kazunari is rambling on about something or other Tenma scanned the area, eyes landing on the kitchen once he noticed it was where you were. You were casually talking with Omi, something that wasn’t exactly unusual, but today he was just off. Seeing you with Omi made him feel this bitter jealousy towards him, this irritation welling up until it clearly showed on his face.

“You okay?” Kazunari asked, head tilted in confusion.

“He’s probably tired from the trip,” Azuma offered up helpfully, and despite Tenma generally being on edge whenever the silver-haired man was around him, he felt relieved that he didn’t have to come up with an excuse himself. “Why don’t you head to your room to unpack and relax until dinner? One of us will fetch you when everything’s done I’m sure.”

Was being alone with his thoughts really what he needed right now?

Tenma discovered that it was in fact not what he needed or what he wanted, unable to get the image of Omi’s hand on your arm out of his head; it was as if he was being mocked, as if the universe was telling him ‘you missed your chance, buddy’. He wondered how close the two of you had gotten, wondered if you shared any longing looks or if you’d spent a night together and the relationship took off from there, all the things that he wanted to do with you but never got to because his damn pride always got in his way. The feelings of jealousy started to bubble over until he felt genuinely angry over something he knew he had no right to be upset about, pacing in his room, wanting dinner to just be over with so he could come back and brood some more.

Tenma knew something had to be done about his feelings for you.

Being himself wasn’t working, he kept overthinking his words, stumbling over them, not wanting to look as pathetic as he felt. So what if he pretended to be someone else? When he was in character he didn’t get overwhelmed by feelings, when he was in character he kept it together no matter how beautiful the actress acting opposite to him was, so maybe the solution had been dangling in front of his face this entire time. He doesn’t know when he’ll have the chance to enact this plan but the seed had been planted in his brain and he couldn’t get it out of his head. He had to confess to you even if it killed him, even if you rejected him and never looked at him in the same light again.

He had to let you know how he felt.

Practice began the next day and despite being told he could be a bit late, he insisted on being right on time. He had gotten plenty of rest and he was ready to get back to business, with acting being the one thing that always managed to distract him from his feelings. Being with the others again gave him his energy back and he started off the day ready to conquer, flipping through the script Tsuzuru had just barely managed to get into their hands before passing out on the ground. There were plenty of interesting themes, some redemption, two twin flames reuniting, the dialogue really speaking to Tenma’s spark for both drama and comedy. He’s assigned the lead role even as he protested it should go to someone like Misumi or Kazunari who fit the lead character far more but the group was just as stubborn as he was and with a sigh, he accepted that things were getting right back to business as usual.

Tenma was totally in his element, he was more than competent enough to take on the lead role in a stage play, so then why was he constantly obliterating his lines? He stuttered in the first read through, he forget to respond a few times (he was too busy looking at you as you read over the script, looking extra cute as you concentrated), he was thinking about his own confession monologue he’d started to plot out, he was just entirely distracted. And he couldn’t just push it down like he normally did, it kept rising to the top of his thoughts and it was truly beginning to screw him over. He can see the others are getting agitated but are unwilling to call him out, likely just blaming it on him not being used to being around them again, but it was so much more than that. With a frustrated wave of his hand Tenma dismissed himself from the practice.

“W-Where are you going?”

“I’m going to practice alone. I’ll… be back.” Tenma left the room in a hurry but just as he predicted you followed, reaching out to grab his arm and stop him from storming away so quickly. It made his heart jump in his chest, made him shiver at how warm your hand felt against his arm and he had to use all the self-control he had left not to pin you to the wall so he could crush his lips against yours.

“What’s wrong, Tenma? You can’t close yourself off like this. You know you need to talk it out!”

“I was supposed to come back with more experience to make this play a success and now all I can do it… Well, nothing! It feels like I’m back at square one again,” Tenma couldn’t help but be at least partially honest with his feelings, making sure to leave out the fact you were driving him absolutely crazy by just being this close to him. The kind, concerned look on your face squeezed his heart like a vice and when you squeezed his arm reassuringly he thought he might die then and there.

“I can see you need a reminder of the fact that I’m here for you and so is the rest of your troupe! You’ve grown up so much but you can’t just keep bearing the weight of the world on your shoulders without letting us in on how you’re feeling. If you know what’s wrong and it’s a problem you can solve then let us know! And even if we can’t solve it just tell us what it is! It can’t be that bad, can it?”

“You have no idea,” Tenma sighed, trying to subtly move his arm out of your grip. “…Can we go down to the theatre?”

“You missed it that much?” You tried to joke but Tenma was looking a little too serious for you to not feel nervous, simply nodding his head and beginning to walk without your confirmation. You’re worried about what might come next but you’d rather snuff the problem out sooner rather than later; you dipped your head back into the practice room to let the others know they could continue to read their lines and that you’d be back with Tenma soon, not noticing the looks they all exchanged.

Tenma is standing center stage when you find him, pacing back and forth, looking just as pensive as he had when you’d left him. He doesn’t even notice you’re there leaving you a moment to admire his handsome face, a handsome face you’d grown fond of and had missed dearly while he was gone. Seeing him at the airport had made you just want to wrap your arms around him and tell him he was never allowed to leave you like that again, that living daily life without him had just made things feel ‘off’, but you knew you could never say something so selfish. It wasn’t as though the two of you were even dating so what right did you have to even think those things about him? Ever since you’d walked in on him masturbating you’d seen him in an entirely different life, recognizing him not just as a troupe member but as a man, too.

The change left you uncomfortable, with feelings you didn’t know how to handle.

“No one else has ever encouraged me and believed in me like you have,” Tenma began to speak as you walked closer, his intense gaze making it hard to look away from him. “My parents want me to go back to daytime drama full time.”

“You know how I feel about your father so let’s not get into that…” Tenma smiled at the memory, never forgetting what it was like to have you so focused on him and doting over his wounds; it was the first time he ever realized he was in love with you, his strong romantic feelings for you truly coming to a head as you expressed your compassion. He was beginning to realize even more how he felt, that it wasn’t simply admiration but true love that he felt for you. You were someone he would be perfectly comfortable calling his soulmate, someone he could easily spend the rest of his life with and never regret it not matter how tough things got. If he was going to put it all on the table and finally address the elephant in the room, now was the time to do it, now when he was feeling so reassured that he’d be able to get his feelings across to you.

You joined him on stage, looking out at the empty seats before glancing over at him again as he began to talk.

“Can I act this thing out for you that I’ve been thinking about for a while?”

“Sure. Are you gonna be our new scriptwriter, too?” You teased.

“Not a chance. Just… give me a sec.” Tenma took a deep breath, running his fingers through his hair, his nervous energy infecting you as well.

“Y-You remember I’m not really a great actress, right? You didn’t forget that while you were gone?”

“I didn’t forget anything about you. I didn’t ask you to act so just… listen, alright?”

Another deep breath and you saw a switch flip in him, his face and shoulders growing more relaxed as he looked at you.

“The day that we met we fought like cats and dogs. I never thought the two of us would ever get along, never thought that I could ever see the positives or care about a person who only seemed to kick me when I was down. But I realized it was all about perspective. You weren’t kicking me but you were offering your hand, willing to help me figure out what I really needed to. I’ve dated other girls but none of them have ever held a candle to you. I started to realize they were never good enough because they were never you.”

That’s your name that he’s saying and it’s your hands he’s now holding, looking deep into your eyes with a penetrating gaze that left you feeling weak in the knees. You had suspected something was up at first but there was no way for you to refute it now, Tenma was without a doubt confessing feelings that you never knew he had. You have to applaud the bravery but the butterflies in your stomach are making you feel restless, the close proximity with the orange-haired man not helping you untangle the many thoughts you were having. How did you feel about Tenma? He’d managed to so eloquently sum up your relationship and how deeply he felt for you and yet you were still stumbling around in your own head trying to find the proper way to respond.

There’s one moment over these last few months that really stood out to you, the one night you’d been holed up with a few other Mankai members watching an interview Tenma was involved with. You’d seen that romance was one of the topic of discussions and suddenly found yourself even more interested, waiting with bated breath as the question of Tenma’s relationship status is questioned; he scoffed, blushed, and brushed off the question as being an unimportant one, completely irrelevant to the movie he was about to star in. But the interviewer was rather insistent on getting an answer, pressuring poor Tenma into at least giving him a bread crumb.

“I like someone but her and I aren’t together.”

You released a breath you didn’t know you’d been holding, receiving a knowing look from Banri who didn’t offer up anything snarky at the moment, turning back to watch the rest of the interview while you tried to calm your racing heart. That didn’t mean anything, right? He could like the actress he was on the job with, or any other number of women he interacted with on the daily, it didn’t mean he was talking about you but… Part of you hoped it was about you. You’d seen the way he looked at you before, you’d heard about the things he did just to have an excuse to talk to you but you’d always just amounted it to a schoolboy crush. But the Tenma standing before you now wasn’t just some kid, he was a hardworking adult who had matured over the years and who was confessing that his heart belonged to you.

You’re not an actor, you can’t come up with some dramatic dialogue with perfect metaphors for the love you felt for Tenma, but you were someone who shared his feelings and wanted to let him know that. Tenma went to pull away from you but before his hands can escape your grip you squeezed them, taking a step forward into his personal space, something you had always been careful about not doing before. You looked into his eyes, searching for something, hoping that none of this would turn out to just actually be some fake scene he wanted to act out but with the fondness he’s looking at you with now you knew his feelings had to be true. Or he had to be an even more talented actor than you’d originally thought but you were hoping you weren’t about to make a fool of yourself.

Leaning forward your lips brushed against his and Tenma followed through with your movement, quickly releasing your hands to hold either side of your face. He didn’t want you to pull away until he had his feel, his heart beating so loudly he’s sure you can hear it. This is a moment he’d dreamed of for years and you tasted so much sweeter than he ever expected, your lips ridiculously soft and potentially addicting. He could get lost in the feeling of holding you against him, his lungs beginning to burn from how long it’d been since he’d last took a breath, but he couldn’t find it in him to pull away from you. You seemed to feel the same as you made no move to dismiss him, kissing him back with just as much fervor, your hands grabbing onto his shirt and digging into the soft material to anchor him to you.

When you pulled away you were glad to see the cool guy façade he’d had up during his confession had completely disappeared, a dark blush adorned his face and left him looking even cuter than usual. You’re sure your face matches his in more ways than one but what does it matter now that you had him?

“I want… Please, be my girlfriend?” He’s looking away from you, unable to meet your eyes as though that was the most embarrassing thing he’d ever done in front of you. You could bring up the masturbation incident but you figured that’d just ruin the mood.

“I think I can do that.” You leaned in to press a few more kisses to his lips, Tenma deepening them each time you attempted to pull away. Finally you block his lips with your hand, sending him a playful smile. “The others are waiting for us! We need to get back to business or we’ll just spend all day in here…”

“I could live with that.”

“Well I can’t! Now let’s get back and smooth out this performance, lover boy.”

~*~

This was riskier than you’d ever taken it but you missed your boyfriend dearly.

Tenma let out a soft groan as you grinded your lower body against his, dick already fighting with the costume he was wearing in an attempt to reach your warmth which seemed so close yet so far away. You couldn’t help but laugh as he started to strip you of your clothes, shaking your head as that would be too dangerous a thing to do while you were trying to get busy in his make-up trailer. Instead, you lower the top part of the dress (thankfully, it was stretchy as well as flowy) to show off your bare chest and slid your underwear down your leg, stuffing them into his pocket before you started to fumble with the zipper.

Tenma cursed as you released his dick from its prison, straddling his lap once more and using his shoulders to slowly lower yourself onto him. You both gasped at the same time, Tenma’s head falling back and brushing against the side of the trailer as he squeezed his eyes shut and willed himself not to come quite yet. He knew it had to move quick as he didn’t know when someone would fetch him for his next scene but he had to savor how wonderful it felt to be inside you, how gorgeous you looked bouncing on his cock, your chest in his face as his hands reached around to grip at your ass. All he can think about is how sexy you are, how lucky he is to see you like this, groaning into your chest before he caught one of your nipples in his mouth. Your moan of approval only fuels him further, with Tenma taking control from under you by thrusting up and changing the rhythm entirely. He’s a bit rougher and more aggressive, hips angling to find that sweet spot inside you, tongue still toying with your hardened nipple when it all comes crashing down around him.

A knock on the trailer door caused you to jump off his lap instantly, his dick aching from the loss of contact even if his brain knew he had to scramble to get it together. He pushed you out of view of the door as he fixed himself, taking a quick glance in the mirror and hastily fixing himself before he opened said door. You did your best to stay out sight, fixing yourself just in case the assistant found their way inside and listening to the conversation your boyfriend was having. He was being rather curt but it was clear he was annoyed at being interrupted, and the only thing you get from him is an apologetic look before he leaves the trailer to go back to set.

You waited a few more minutes until things were truly quiet to get moving, sneaking your way from the trailer and seeing yourself out of the studio without further interruption. You wonder how frightened Tenma was about all of that, trying to think of what might hurt his reputation more; discovering that he was dating his director or them assuming you were just some random girl he’d called into his trailer to have sex with. Neither option seemed to be positive but… You and Tenma hadn’t talked much about the secretive nature of your relationship lately. You’d just recently overcome an issue in the relationship but it seemed like a new one was always willing to pop up when you least expected it. You tried to push this to the back of your mind, knowing Tenma wasn’t ashamed of you and that he did truly love you, but you still had to wonder if he ever thought about what would happen if the two of you really did get caught.

Surprisingly, you’re not the one to bring up the topic.

“I was asked if I had a girlfriend today.” Tenma had been showing clear signs of agitation, playing with the food on his plate instead of eating it. You had been patiently waiting for him to open up knowing if you approached the topic without him being the first one to speak he’d just close himself off and you might never know what was on his mind.

“What did you say?”

“I said… I said that I did.” Tenma looked in your eyes, searching for any sign of emotion; you simply looked surprised but that didn’t tell him if it was a happy surprised or a disappointed one.

He had thought making your relationship a secret was just as beneficial for you as it was him, in fact, he had done this entirely for you. Dating a celebrity was an entirely different world, even if you knew the real him and he wouldn’t suddenly change into a different person having the world prying into your romance might not have made things go as smoothly as they had been. The relationship had bumps in the road but things had always managed to work out, but would that have the same outcome if the tabloids and paparazzi were involved? Would you have been as willing to be patient with him? Would you even find any pleasure in being with him if your relationship was in the public eye? These questions scared him. He knew he should’ve been honest about it from the start but in the end, he continued to run from his feelings and even ignore the fact they existed.

But Tenma had to stop running.

He was tired.

He didn’t want to run anymore.

“We’ve almost been together a year now and I want to… I want to be able to post a picture of us. I want to make an annoying post like all those celebrities who think they have better love lives than the rest of us and I want people to be jealous that I have you all to myself. I know I’m the one who wanted us to be secret but I…” Tenma’s fingers tapped nervously against the table, his plate of food fully pushed away as you quietly listened to him. “I don’t want us to be a secret anymore. I hate hiding things from everyone. I hate not being able to hold your hand in public. When we go places together I don’t want to have to be paranoid anymore. You understand how I feel, don’t you?”

“Of course I understand. Don’t you think I want the same things you do?” You stood up from your place across the table, circling around it to stand behind Tenma who’s shoulders were sagging. You could tell this was something he’d thought about more than he let on and if you were being honest, you were proud of him for managing to speak so honestly about his feelings with you. It was hard for him to articulate exactly how he felt much of the time but he’d managed to get his feelings across to you perfectly. “I don’t want to be a secret anymore either, handsome.”

Tenma leaned back into your arms as you hugged him from behind, your chin resting comfortably on his head.

“I’ll post about it then. On our anniversary.”

“I look forward to seeing what the sappy movie star has to say about me!”

You were not at all disappointed to see the post on Instablam the following week, nor were you surprised at the responses it received from some of your Mankai friends. Kazunari posted ‘KNEW IT’ with approximately a million exclamation points, Muku posted a heart emoji, Itaru posted ‘grats’, and you’re sure there are many others buried among the comments from his fans who were both disappointed and excited to see the star they loved in a happy relationship. He had warned you not to get too lost in the comments so you didn’t linger long, re-reading his post over and over again and smiling at the fact he chose to post the very first selfie you’d ever taken together. He might say he’s not good at being romantic but you knew he was a natural when he learned to just listen to what his heart told him.

There might still be many trials and tribulations for the two of you to overcome the longer you were together but you were happy, happier than you’d ever been, and you knew every bit of trouble was worth it.

[nightwingmyboi]

I have a massive amount of questions and hopefully you can answer them all. I wont ask all at once but first question. Dick and Tarantula. I know kinda what happens but like... All the titans took her side? Who were the titans and how did they react?

Alright, always happy to help out. Feel free to fire away! To start...I believe you’re thinking about Mirage, not Tarantula. 

Everything with Tarantula occurred in Bludhaven when Dick wasn’t currently working with the Titans. Dick hasn’t ever talked about what happened with Tarantula to anyone, so it’s likely that the Titans have no idea that anything ever happened...the only people who would have an inkling of what went down would probably be Bruce (who after the fact yelled at Dick to stop being suicidal and never looked into the matter further) and Barbara (who broke up with Dick...after seeing Tarantula force herself on him and knee him in the groin...okay). Yeah that’s a whole other issue :/ 

But I’ll explain the situation with Mirage instead. To set the scene: Dick was on the “New Titans” team, which included: Starfire, Beastboy/Changeling, Red Star, Donna Troy, and Pantha. Mirage came from an evil alternate future timeline, and in that timeline she was romantically involved with a version of Dick Grayson, later known as “Deathwing.” Because of this, she is obsessed with Dick and is convinced that they belong together. She’s come back with the rest of the “Team Titans” to the past to kill Donna Troy in order to stop her son from ruling over the world as a dictator. For some reason, she accomplishes this plan...by kidnapping Starfire, replacing her, and tricking Dick into having sex. Yeah, the plot is convoluted as hell. No time to unpack all that! 

Deathstroke (1991) #14

The team discovers that there is an imposter when Kory manages to break free of her imprisonment and escape. Dick realizes that he was manipulated into having sex with a stranger. Instead of Kory and Dick being able to talk about it alone, Pantha spills the beans in front of the whole team (sans Donna) and fuels the fire with several horrible, crude comments. 

The New Titans (1988) #90

“Details! From ten to one--how did she score compared to this one?”

Though Mirage had them all fooled, Pantha says that, seeing as Dick slept with her, he definitely should have been able to realize that she was phony. No one on the team comes to Dick’s defense or tries to shift the blame from Dick’s shoulders. Kory’s a bit pissed as well. She’s had a pretty bad couple of days. She wants an explanation from Dick, but Pantha can’t freaking shut up for five seconds so that he can give her one. 

Also, note the comments about how Dick’s hair has changed? And about “Starfire’s” new costume? I’m going to quickly side track to explain just how terrible Mirage is. 

The New Titans #88

So, while she was disguised as Kory, Mirage pushed Dick into changing his costume and cutting his hair into a mullet. Dick didn’t want to, especially because his discowing costume had huge sentimental value seeing as he’d modeled the look after his dead parent’s circus outfits, but “Kory” kept pestering him. He trusted his girlfriend, so Dick eventually agreed to follow what he thought was her lead. 

I can’t get over how horrible that is...that Dick’s rapist tried to own Dick’s body to the extent that manipulating him into having sex wasn’t enough, that she abused his trust to change his appearance to suit her needs too, specifically altering him in ways he wasn’t comfortable with. It’s disgusting, I don’t know why it’s so often glossed over, and it really gives a whole new reason to hate “Mulletwing.” And Nightwing’s not the only one whose bodily autonomy is completely thrown out the window.

The New Titans #93

When Mirage was disguised as Kory, she went around and did a bunch of porno, nude photoshoots. I don’t think I have to explain how awful it is that Kory’s appearance was used like this without her consent, especially in such a public way (people were literally stopping her in the streets to talk about it and she was invited onto a news show). Kory is rightfully pissed. Mirage also changes Starfire’s costume as well, to have big cut-outs on the sides. 

Mirage is absolutely horrible. Cannot say that enough.  

Back on the plot: Dick and Kory still have a lot to talk out, but they are on a mission to save Donna, so both of them put their feelings aside for now to help their friend. Later, while Starfire is busy chasing Donna in space, Nightwing runs into Mirage, and she reveals that she was the imposter. 

Team Titans #2

DICK YOU SLUT! So tell me, who was better? Huh? Huh? Huh? 

Mirage laughs about raping Nightwing with zero remorse. Pantha calls Dick a slut and once again asks who is better. Also like last time, the rest of the team (sans Donna) is standing right there...and doesn’t care or help him out at all. 

Dick is forced to put his feelings aside once again to deal with the threat to Earth. This means working with Mirage to the point where she is just...part of the team for some reason? My reaction is pretty in line with Kory’s here: 

Despite Kory’s protest, Dick focuses on the mission, and says that they need the manpower and the knowledge of the future that the Team Titans (including Mirage) have in order to defeat Donna and her son (long story, just ignore the plot honestly). But really, they need Mirage...so that she can cause unnecessary, contrived drama between Dick and Kory. 

I’m just going to say it: Kory and Dick are both pretty wildly out of character. Putting aside how stupid and cliché this plot is in the first place, Dick lets Mirage get away with way too much crap, when he’s always been very up front about dealing with bullshit in the past. One of the absolute worst things about having Mirage stick around (and at one point literally go on vacation with the Titans) is how she just keeps acting like her and Dick are together. It’s gross and Dick needed and usually would have put his freaking foot down about it. They also have Kory flipping from acknowledging that Mirage tricked Dick and is at fault for what happened: 

Team Titans #2

The New Titans (1988) #90

To having her think that Dick genuinely...loved Mirage and would rather be with her? And blaming Dick for being tricked? Even though Dick and Kory are both victims here? 

The New Titans (1988) #90

The New Titans (1988) #97

Starfire has an incredibly high EQ. She and Dick have always been very communicative. To see her completely unwilling to hear him out (and blame him for being raped) is shocking. She acts like an immature teenager, changing her mind all the time and then storming off to go party with random guys in clubs for the next couple days. She has zero of her previously demonstrated emotional maturity and trust. Meanwhile, just as Dick loses his girlfriend, he also loses his apartment, and, to top it all off, Roy swings by to tell Dick that the government is going to shut down the Titans because of all the property damage that happened in their last fight. Nightwing literally can never catch a break. 

The New Titans (1988) #99

Eventually, the two do make up...and Dick immediately proposes to Kory out of nowhere. She accepts, despite being pissed moments before. They have a wedding the next issue, but it is interrupted by villains from the alternate timeline, including an evil Raven and Deathwing. Afterwards, Dick and Kory’s relationship is never quite the same. 

Seeing Dick and Starfire’s relationship sour, when it was built up over so many years of comics (and with neither of them truly being at fault for the split), is freaking depressing. And Mirage never does get punished really...I’m pretty sure she’s even part of the honor guard that escorts Superman’s body to his tomb when he dies, which is dumb as hell. But that’s how it all went down. 

Just to clarify, since you specifically asked how the team reacted, I kept saying “(sans Donna)” because while most of this was going on Donna was a) giving birth or b) going crazy with power. Later, Donna is shown to know about what happened with Mirage, but she doesn’t really give it much thought. She does comment that Dick is acting strangely and she’s concerned about him, but she also doesn’t seem to connect the obvious dots that Dick is acting off...because he’s still shaken about being raped and tricked. Roy also appears later on to lead the Titans. Mirage is a member of that group, and Roy isn’t really shown to have any strong feelings about it. 

Honestly, I wouldn’t say that the Titans “took Mirage’s side” as you describe. Pretty sure none of them liked Mirage. But, they didn’t stand up for Dick, certainly. There was a lot of victim blaming. Dick’s rape wasn’t given the narrative weight that it deserved, probably due to the time period the comic was made. His teammates mostly didn’t care enough to take sides, used him being raped as a joke, or blamed him for being tricked. 

The whole story arc is convoluted, the characterizations are terrible, and overall it just sucks that this was written. 

[dragonrajafanfiction]

Inner Demons

Ten minutes after midnight, Zihang felt the sudden rise in Carli’s chest that signaled another nightmare. It stirred him out of sleep and he woke up, already cradling her out of instinct, one arm curling about her shoulders under the blanket. He still hadn’t fully awakened but he could feel her pulse under his hand.

Her body suddenly jolted and she whimpered. Fully awake now, Zihang sat up slightly. Her hand was over her mouth. 

“You alright?”

“I bit my tongue.”

“You were probably grinding your teeth…” Zihang only obliquely referred to her frequent nightmares, eager to help her move her mind away from them. “Let me see.”

She looked at him with a surprised innocence and then stuck out her tongue.

“It’s still there.”

She let out a whistling laugh. “Don’t tease me when I’m just awake. It’s not fair.” She turned away, bashful.

“Do you want some warm milk?” He asked, kissing the back of her shoulder.

“Yes please.” She flipped the covers over her face.

He poked her ribs through the blanket just to hear her giggle. Once he was certain she wasn’t overly upset, he walked away. Still, he called from the kitchen. “Soy or Almond?”

“Almond!”

“Do you want cinnamon with it this time?”

“...yes.”

“...one spoon of sugar?”

“...Yes!”

Her voice sounded alright. It was a promising sign. When she’d returned from her island project, she was exhausted for three days, not getting out of bed. A sneak peek at her arm revealed a very light scarring through her tropical-sun tanned skin where needles had been inserted, likely to draw her own blood.

Her blood had special properties to suppress instability in hybrids, but the effects were temporary, at most, lasting two weeks. It was likely that she was making frequent draws and banking them.

She was giving so much of herself.

This thought filled his head as he watched the timer on the microwave countdown. Caring for her like this gave him scant comfort. Her energy was back. They had returned to their morning workouts, their training, their routine. At first, this warmed him inside to new levels. He truly had missed her. But the deeper he dove into the familiar, the more he found himself in strange waters.

Despite all their trauma, these nightmares weren’t as frequent before. Carli would find herself lost in thought more often, forgetful, and, worst of all, self condemnatory. She apologized more. She needed more reassurance that he was not angry when there was never going to be any situation that he could ever feel angry with her.

The microwave beeped and he opened it up and checked the heat. It was true that she had left him for an extended period, but he had coped. Her apology wasn’t what he wanted. 

What he wanted, he wasn’t sure he could ask of her.

He returned to her room with the milk. She was sitting up, on her phone, but quickly put it away when he entered the room. “Is Ru’Yi alright?”

“How did you know that was her?” She watched him move around the bed.  “She’s on some school vacation. Apparently a cruise.”

“Where?”

“She didn’t say. Only she was accompanied mostly by ‘neato Africans.’” Carli said, making airquotes. She accepted the milk with a quiet thanks.

He sat down next to her, dressed in nothing but a pair of blue boxers. She leaned against him and he rested one hand around her waist.  “She really has grown up well. You did a good job.”

“I did half a good job, Zihang. Team effort.” She elbowed him slightly.

“It wasn’t really effort. I enjoyed it. Very much.” He glanced at her to gauge her reaction.

“You’re a good dad.” She said, mentally lost in some memory. She tilted her head up at him. “We should visit her when she gets back. I’m sure they’ll let us back on campus.”

He hadn’t told her about his infiltration of the campus without authorization. Hopefully, it wasn’t recorded. “Probably.”

“What do you mean probably?” She put the cup back on the side table and shuffled back beneath the blankets. “You got some sort of record?”

“Not as far as I know.” He reached over to tuck her in. He then kissed her forehead. “I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

“Okay…” She whispered. “Love you.”

“Love you.” He turned out the light.

He closed the door behind him as he left and grabbed his phone from the hall charger. Then, he made his way to Ru’Yi’s old room.

She’d taken many of her belongings with her. Her laptop was no longer on the desk and her favorite pillows and blankets were gone. The night stand and many of her clothes that were in it were missing. Indentations were left in the carpet where they had been.

Zihang leaned against the doorway, letting the thoughts run their course. No matter how good of a father Carli thought he was, he couldn’t help but regret that he’d stumbled out of the gate. Carli never blamed him for his supernatural banishment for Ru’Yi’s first few months of life, but that didn’t change the fact that he’d missed her birth, missed holding her. Her earliest childhood photos was her in the arms of another man.

Zihang wanted another chance. Would Carli allow him that? He had asked before, and her response was that it was just too dangerous. Now though, she had a breakthrough for her treatment for the over concentration of dragonblood. Was it too early to ask?

If her reaction to asking about her first child - a dull, deeply painful silence - was any clue for the answer to that question, that answer was yes. Zihang had not followed her into the red well. He’d fought his hardest to install high powered explosives to stop an influx of dead waiters into Japan. He’d blacked out, completely exhausted.

When he woke up, he found out that Carli had been horrifically injured. Lu Mingfei and Gen Chisei weren’t much better off. Everyone else that had entered that well had died. For days, Carli experienced uncontrollable bouts of crying. That’s when he’d learned about her inability to save her child. As a comfort, he offered to adopt him as his own and have a little funeral ceremony for him.

There was no body buried underneath that headstone behind Norton Hall. Just a few baby clothes, a pacifier and toys he would never get to enjoy. Along with that, they buried a note that said, “Mommy and Daddy loved you.”

Carli spent her pregnancy with Ru’Yi in terror that something similar might happen to her. She would lie awake at night, tormented by the memory of her over threshold child and projecting that onto scenarios about the future.

Recalling these things, Zihang felt that he was selfish every time he desired a son.

He looked down at his phone. Perhaps if he could figure out a little bit more about what happened, he could overcome this foolish desire of his. Carli had left him an important clue.

He scrolled down to a blank number on his phone, one only he would recognize, and dialed it. It rang once, twice, a third time. Then it picked up. There was such a long silence on the other end that Zihang started to wonder if he’d been disconnected, but then a deep voice answered him. “What happened?”

Zihang was caught a bit off guard. Was it foolish of him to call for such a petty reason? He had no reason to believe that Chisei would be happy to hear from him. They weren't particularly close. “Is this a bad time?”

“I’m assuming you were calling about your wife. I can’t imagine any other reason you’d want to talk to me.”

“Not even about the swords?” 

A pause. “Okay that’s another reason…”

“But this is about Carli. Do you have a few minutes?”

“Tell me what happened.”

“I wanted to know what happened in the Red Well.”

“She hasn’t told you?” Surprise colored his voice.

“No. It’s too painful for her. If I ask her about it, she shuts down.”

“Even after all this time…” He wondered outloud.

“You’re not subject to the rules of the Executive Department any longer as well.” Zihang added.

“I swore to non-disclosure, but because it’s you, and you’re no longer affiliated with Cassell’s Enforcement Division, I’ll make an exception. What do you want to know?”

“I want to know specifically about what happened to her child.”

“Some things are better off unknown. You saw how she reacted to the events. Your knowing what happened will affect you needlessly.”

“I have suffered enough loss to last a dozen lifetimes. I can tell you from experience that not knowing is far worse than knowing," Zihang replied.

Chisei kept a thoughtful moment of silence and then sighed deeply. “While I organize my thoughts, why don’t you tell me what you know about the child?"

Zihang tilted his head slightly. Was he hesitating? Chisei’s personality was not robotic or unfeeling. He just pushed those emotions aside. Hearing that he needed to organize his thoughts reminded him of Carli’s reaction. Her mind would immediately jump to the worst of her ordeal.

“He is of the genetic material harvested from her under duress by the Comemnus Corporation. Herzog bought it in an auction. Her egg was combined with another man’s sperm in an effort to make someone who could turn into a full-blooded dragon. Albeit a weak one. That man was initially assumed to be you, but could have also been your brother.”

“It was my brother. He was Chime’s son.”

Zihang was silent, letting that knowledge sink in. “Does Chime know?”

“No. And you’re not to tell him. It would just give him yet another reason to hate me.”

Zihang privately thought that Chime would be just as angry such knowledge was kept from him. “He was in the Red Well to harvest  the White King leech?”

“By the time I arrived, the baby had already been given dragonblood and converted into a monster. There was no way to rescue him from the start. But Carli couldn’t control her maternal instincts. When I tried to kill the baby, she fought me with all her strength. The wounds I received were inflicted by her. Not Herzog. Thanks to her interference, Herzog was able to get the upper hand.”

“He pinned her to the ground with my sword through her. He drained the child’s blood right in front of her eyes... while she screamed at him.” He paused. “That’s all I remember.”

Zihang leaned against the wall, the phone held to his ear, finally understanding why she was rendered so speechless, the heart ache, the nightmares, the deep and unrelenting grief. “How did… how did she escape?”

“I don’t know.”

“Is the child’s body still down there?”

“Even if it was, what would you do with it?”

“We didn’t have a body to bury. She seemed very heartbroken about that. I want to help her.”

Chisei laughed softly. “Closure, huh?”

“If not closure… I can at least grant her a means to move forward.”

“That’s not something you can grant Zihang. When I agreed to assist her in ending the inherent cruelty when it comes to handling hybrids like her child, I thought she meant the human experimentation required to get someone overthreshold. This need for greater and greater purity, pushing that threshold between human and dragon, is what creates these people in the first place. Treatments were an attractive option as well, but I never really bought into it. A cure for the madness that turns them into a Dragon’s servant would cause the opposite effect -- The deliberate creation of hybrid monsters with the sole purpose of using them as weapons.”

The tension rose even as his voice lowered in a growl. “You know what happened in Japan, how threatened Tokyo was when Erii got out from under Hydra supervision. Can you imagine a world filled with monsters like her? But Carli didn’t listen to me, because I had no other solution than death for them. She thought she could do better. She’d made her mind up. If you want to help her move forward, help her let go of that fantasy.”

Zihang felt himself growing colder and colder inside at these words. The hope of ever having a second child grew more remote.

 “That’s all I want to say about it. I hope you call me again with a more pleasant subject.” 

Zihang found his voice. “Thank you. I will think on your words.”

“You’re a logical person, Zihang. Clear eyed. I’m sure you’ll be able to succeed where I failed. I understand her feelings, but I can’t tolerate them. Not on something as crucial as this. She wasn’t born or raised as a hybrid. And, if I’m to understand correctly, neither were you. You’re better able to sympathize with her without losing sight of the truth. I hope you get her to understand. If she succeeds… I can’t imagine what she’ll unleash on to this world.”

---

In the Atlantic, on the opposite side of the churning clouds that signaled the awakening dragon, another vessel bobbed in the waves. It was much smaller than the Aido-Hwedo Aircraft carrier and it’s presence was lost in the massive radar noise caused by the dragon’s stirring. The anomaly had grown to hurricane size but unlike a hurricane, it was completely immobile. The waves it was kicking up tilted and tossed the boat like a bath toy, but it stayed afloat.

Tom had to lean against the wall to keep from falling over as he made his way to the mess, that is, the kitchen. He didn’t know anything about nautical terms, but he was learning bit by bit, coached by Ms. Sakatoku and Zero who were captaining the ship. 

He heard a sound, a single foot fall on the metal step. He whirled but she was already on him, like an attacking shadow with terrifying eyes, blue irises with red pupils in a face that was completely black as though covered in ink. She hit him like a battering ram, slamming him into the metal wall of the ship.

  He closed his hands around her neck and held her teeth away from his face. Her hot breath hit him, she was so close. He could scarcely breathe for fear. He pushed upward with arms made powerful by hours of flight time until she fell all the way back slamming her head to the floor.

Her claws flashed by his neck and he ducked away  but they caught his collarbone and dug in. He scrambled off her, bleeding down his torn shirt. 

She didn’t attack again. She turned and ran up the stairs, leaving Tom trembling. 

Appetite gone, he stumbled back up to the deck, whimpering and bleeding, casting nervous eyes behind him. She must have been waiting for him on the stairs to come down to breakfast. “Mr. Lu! Mr. Lu! Cadance attacked me again!”

Despite the morning light, the skies above were as dark as early evening. Mr. Lu was standing on the deck in a long trench coat, staring out over the water. Tom’s nose caught the scent of tobacco. A curl of smoke rose up from a cigar in his mouth. Tom paused. He’d never seen Mr. Lu smoking before. Mr. Lu shook his head slowly. “Attack her back. She only does it because she knows she can get away with it. You don’t see her attacking Kasio...”

When Tom didn’t answer, he faced him fully. “You’re still suppressing it. That’s good in a way but in the end, unless you embrace that side of you, you’re just going to die.”

Tom lowered his eyes. “I’m sorry, sir.”

“Don’t apologize to me. Apologize to the people who will mourn you when you’re gone.”

Tom lifted his head in shock. Mingfei Lu’s tone was warm but his words were like a winter wind.  

Mingfei made no attempt to comfort him or even check on his injury. He merely stood there, watching him with copper colored eyes. “Let me tell you a story, about when I first got onto Cassell grounds.” He tapped his ashes over the railing of the boat. “I was completely overwhelmed. They had just opened up the Day of Liberty and all around me was gun fire. Everywhere a bullet hit a person, they would fall, stained with red, just like a dead man. I thought the people around me were dying. I laid down, hoping to pretend to be among the dead.”

He chuckled. “I didn’t fool one person… the person I was in love with. She stood over me, recognized me, smiled at me. I thought I was saved. And then…” He simulated with his hands, a gunshot. “She was taken out.”

“But she was still alive right…?” 

“Yeah but I didn’t know that!” The amber in his eyes faded but then came back with glowing brilliance. “I burned inside. I thought they’d killed the only person I… Even now.” Mingfei’s chest rose and fell.

“I took the gun from her and killed the person who had shot her. Then I turned it on the two people in front of me. Caesar Gattuso and Chu Zihang, the top students in all of Cassell College and presidents of the most prestigious clubs. Caesar I didn’t know, so I shot him first. Zihang…” He paused briefly. “He recognized  me, called my name. Even though he was stronger than me, faster than me… even though he knew I was the weakest of the weak in high school and he had faced down the strongest in Cassell and beyond. He met eyes with mine, he dropped his weapon and surrendered, even though he knew my weapon was fake. Why do you think that is?”

Tom stood quietly.

Lu Mingfei puffed his cigar. “I shot him anyway. The past didn’t matter, the future didn’t matter.” He turned back to the waves and leaned against the rail. “Carli… Carli… you can’t sleep and it’s making me upset.” He muttered.

Tom wondered if perhaps Lu Mingfei was losing his mind. Tom’s concern certainly wasn’t pressing at the moment. “Alright.” 

“When you get breakfast, be sure to bring some to Kasio as well. Ask Zero where he is on the ship. Probably in one of the maintenance crawls.”

[licenselesswriter]

Ten Duel Commandments CH8

Your last chance to negotiate

Monday, May 11, 2020

Farkle looks at his phone one last time before throwing it away. He was incredible annoyed by the reaction everyone was having to Lucas and Maya. He wasn't able to process why people wanted them as an item so bad when on the other side of the coin was her best 'friend' feeling like crap because of all the mess Lucas put them on, and nobody but him gives a crap about that.

Farkle takes a deep breath, sits on his bed, and looks at the floor. No, this wasn't Lucas's fault, he thought to himself. Even when he didn't want to admit it, Zay has been right from the beginning. It wasn't Lucas's fault. He was not in the wrong for falling in love with Maya. Hell, if he was honest with himself, he also falls for the blonde beauty when they were kids, but as soon as Riley enters his line of vision, he knew that there was no coming back from him.

That thought makes him realize one of the truths of the world, not everything revolves around the people you love and the fact that he made a circle around what he considers the truth and fairness makes him lose the argument because as soon as he did that, he denies every other point of view. Even if he thought he was right, deep inside, he knew he wasn't.

Now everything was fucked up, really fucked up. Riley took the first step, making her own grown phase away from everyone, maybe even forgetting Maya and Lucas for being deceptive with her. 

Maya and Lucas were thriving on their relationship, a happy couple, enjoying the free world now that everything was in the open and with no one to judge them. And by the looks on their Instagram accounts, nor Shawn or Mary were remotely mad about them hiding everything from everyone. 

Isadora probably had the grown spurt that most hurt him. Yes, he understands that he never was the perfect boyfriend, but not even a few months to mourn him? He has been feeling like a complete piece of shit for two months, and she was moving at alarming speed from him, and honestly, making him worry about her new friendship with Billy Ross.

Farkle gets up from his bed and walks to his bathroom. He looks at himself in the mirror, and it terrifies him that he couldn't recognize himself.

For some reason, he finally was able to see the effects of all this mess on him, the dark circles under his eyes, the clear signs of dehydration, how opaque his hair was now.

He even lost some weight that doesn't help his already thin physique.

He looks at his reflection one more time, and this time the questions were others.

What happened to the gentle genius that always did all in his reach to protect his friends? At what moment he turned into this bitter young man who lied to himself, thinking that he was doing all of these things only to see her best friend happy?

His face was there, on the mirror, but his essence was gone.

"You might need help this time Farkle," he says to his reflection on the mirror.

But before that, a shower, that he clearly needs it.

And a round of well-deserved apologies.

.

"I'm gonna say I'm surprised, but I'm not," Isadora says before sitting in front of Farkle, taking a good detail on his looks, his faces, his eyes, and his expression, evident signs of depression, but that was something that she would keep to herself unless asked for.

"I'm surprised you wanted to see me. After all, we didn't part ways in the best terms," Farkle replies.

"Farkle, please," Isadora says, sitting in front of him, "You know I loved you, even now, I love you, not as a romantic partner, but as a person, for what you give and the experiences you share with me" she adds.

"So, not even as a friend?" Farkle asks.

"Farkle, we broke up less than three months ago," Isadora answers, "You need some time to heal, I need some time to heal, it's a process, not because we have a higher IQ means we are gonna be back to normal, to being friends," she explains.

Farkle looks down, "I know, I know, it's just, my brain hasn't been working like it used to do," he justifies himself.

"I know," Isadora replies, "You still have troubles handling emotions, not like I used to had, but your moral compass is making it really hard for you," she explains.

"Should I guess that you know why I ask you to meet me?" Farkle asks.

"I know why you ask me to meet you, and the answer is no," Isadora replies before turning to the waitress, "Please, one Iced Coffee to go," she says to the waitress.

"Can I ask why?" Farkle asks.

"Because Iced Coffee it's delicious?" Isadora asks back, avoiding his question.

"So it's like this now?" Farkle asks this time.

"Farkle, why I, someone who has nothing to do with your problem, do something to help?" she asks, "I get it, we used to be friends, we used to be partners, and we used to be boyfriend and girlfriend," she adds, "But let's not forget that we broke up because it was too obvious to me that you never stopped loving Riley, and that to you, Riley's happiness is the most important thing in the world," she continues, "But you're in this mess because you refused to listen to anything that is not involved with Riley's happiness, and you need to learn how to take responsibility about your own decisions," Isadora adds.

"I took you for granted for so damn long," Farkle says, defeated.

"You did, but I also thought that I would be able to beat Riley in your mind and in your heart, and I failed miserably," she argues back, "The secret of life, Farkle," Isadora says, getting her Iced Coffee before giving Farkle a five-dollar bill, "You will never conquer a heart that already has been conquered," she says, getting up, only to put a soft kiss on Farkle's cheek.

Tuesday, May 12, 2020

Lucas was nervous.

For the first time in seven months, Farkle was the one reaching to him to talk, and he knew exactly about what he wanted to talk about. He wasn't sure he wanted to talk about his relationship with Maya. After all, he was the first one to oppose to him having an interest in any other girl besides Riley, and even when he wanted his friend back, for no reason he could give, he would change anything he's been experiencing today.

"I honestly didn't believe you would want to meet with me after 7 months of radio silence," Farkle says from Lucas back.

"That's because you did the radio silence. I never wanted to stop talking to you," Lucas replies.

"I don't want to sound ungrateful, but I think I'm ready to hear your side if you don't mind," Farkle says, walking around the bench and sitting next to the Texan.

"Are you sure about that?" Lucas asks, "Because if I tell you my side, you might not like it," he adds.

"How can you know that?" Farkle asks.

"Because Riley has always been your priority," Lucas answers with a short laugh, "And that clearly gives you a biased mindset," he adds.

Farkle laughs, "So, everything comes to me being able to handle the truth?" he asks, "What if I promise to not be biased?" he asks.

Lucas chuckles again, "If you can promise that, then I don't have a leg to stand about denying you my side," he says.

Farkle looks at Lucas for a few seconds and chuckles, "You know I can't have my opinion biased. After all, everyone seems to think I'm in love with Riley, and how a man in love can't have his opinion biased?" he teased him, "But for the benefit of this conversation, I will try my best," he adds.

"Good enough for me," Lucas replies, "So, I should start with the beginning, and that was, probably, when I sneak into Riley's room, looking for Maya to inform everyone of my decision," he says.

"You can skip to the meat of the story. This relationship between you and Maya made clear to me that you picked her that day, and Riley just urn into your pitty case," Farkle says in a snarky tone.

"Can we do the Q&A at the end?" Lucas asks, "Also, lose the tone, not necessary, and not wanted at all," he states before taking a deep breath, "For me, it all started around two and half years ago, almost a year from Riley and me breaking up," he says.

Farkle covers his ears, "God, you were right, I don't want to hear this," he says, fastly getting up from the bench.

Lucas chuckles and gets up with him and gently sits him back, "If you want the truth, I'm gonna tell you, but if you go now, you will never know my side, and maybe we might not rekindle," he threats Farkle.

"You're threatening me?" Farkle asks.

"I'm giving you a spoiler, Farkle," Lucas replies, making sure his friend understands how serious he was.

"Fine, fine, let's do it your way," Farkle agrees, desperately rubbing his hands on his thighs.

"Calm down, I'm gonna tell you a love story, not a Stephen King story," Lucas says, trying to calm Farkle, "As I was saying, Riley was on her discovery period, and if I was honest, me too," he says, remembering those days, "And I discover that my feelings for Riley had been gone for months before us breaking up because as soon as she started going out with other guys, I honestly didn't care," he adds.

"Wow, and I thought I was an awful boyfriend," Farkle comments.

"Big difference, I never lied to any of my partners, Farkle, never lied," Lucas defends himself, "So, Riley started going out with guys, you started going out with Isadora more often, and well, Zay and I start going out a lot. Like full 'the boys are back in town' style, and, I'm sorry if this stings, but you two kinda abandon Maya," he states.

"We would never abandon Maya," Farkle tries to justify himself.

"No, you did, and I'm not blaming you for something. It's just that you didn't have enough time for Maya, and that where Zay and I get into the scene. You two were M.I.A., so she started going out with us a lot," he explains, "And once Vanessa came here to New York for winter break, that gave me the opportunity because I didn't see anything wrong with that, I mean, you were with Isadora, Riley was with what's-his-face, Zay was with Vanessa, and Maya wasn't with Josh anymore," he explains.

"So this is a 'La ocasión hace al ladrón' situation?" Farkle asks, feeling a bit annoyed by the story.

"First of all, I'm not a thief. Second, maybe," Lucas replies, "Anyways, we start to spend a lot of time together, going out as friends, because let's remember that before anything, we are friends," Lucas states, "And honestly, all that time I spend with Maya, made my feelings resurface into a more clear me," he continues, "and one day, I just simply kiss her. And against all odds, she kissed me back," he says, remembering that night.

"That can't be all the story," Farkle says in a sordid tone, doubting his friend's words.

"What you want me to say, Farkle?" Lucas asks his friend, a bit tired of him.

"Come on, you're telling that she got you only with a kiss?" Farkle asks back, implying something far from PG-13.

"Careful with your words, Farkle," Lucas warns him.

"Come on, you're seventeen, Maya's sixteen, and you're telling me she only kissed you? Tell me the truth, did she spread her legs for you, pretty boy?" Farkle questions him with the same tone he had before.

In complete shock, Lucas gets up from the bench, and in a flash, he slaps Farkle as hard as he was able, "I warned you, Farkle," he says, glaring at him, doing his best to keep his Texas-self buried.

"Why I'm not surprised that your underdeveloped brain's first resource is violence?" Farkle says, keep pushing Lucas buttons.

"That the card you want to play?" Lucas asks him, not believing what he was hearing.

"What you gonna do? Slap me again?" Farkle says, looking at Lucas with anger in his eyes.

"Your funeral," Lucas says, getting closer to him, making Farkle cover his face, "Why I'm not surprised that you are already defeated?" Lucas asks, "I might be a thief, or a liar, or whatever you want to call me, but at least I have balls," he says, grabbing his own bulge, "Never show your face in front of me again, Farkle, unless you want to apologize," he adds before walking away from him.

Once Lucas was not visible to him, Farkle spends a few minutes trying to control his emotions, only to fail and start crying, "You stupid imbecile, why you had to talk," he says to himself, hiding his face in his knees.

.

Lucas was getting closer to the Starbucks Isadora ask him to be, only to see her and Zay running towards him, "Hey, hey, calm down, I'm just a little late," Lucas jokes before watching them look at him, worried, "Ok, I'm getting worried, what's going on?" he asks.

"What happened with Farkle?" Zay asks him.

"What?" Lucas says, faking ignorance.

"Don't play dumb, something happened, we know," Isadora intervenes.

"Nothing happened, we talk, he didn't understand my point of view, that's all," Lucas lies to them.

"And?" Zay asks.

"And I left, that's all," Lucas lie again.

"Please, don't insult our intelligence. What happened? The truth now," Isadora asks.

Knowing that they would not stop pestering him until he confesses, he agreed to do it, "Fine, I slapped him, but he deserves it," he justifies himself.

"God, what he say?" Zay asks.

"Please, we came here to have a chat because Isadora asks us, can we please leave it?" Lucas begs them to drop the subject.

"I kissed Sarah, and I'm probably bisexual, but I can be on other specters too, done, tell us what you did, the whole story," Isadora says, surprising both boys.

"You what?" Zay asks Isadora this time.

"I think she said that she kissed Sarah," Lucas says to Zay.

"I'm not done with you, so don't push it," Zay replies to Lucas, "Are you for real?" he then asks Isadora.

Isadora, knowing that Zay wouldn't let her continue her interrogatory to Lucas until she tells him the whole story, sits on the steps of the house where they intercept Lucas, "I mean, it was for science," she says.

"Please tell me you didn't tell her that," Lucas says before Zay.

"What? No, of course, I didn't say that to her," Isadora defends herself.

"So?" Zay asks.

"It was nice," Isadora says, blushing a tiny bit, "But, if I'm honest, it's not like I'm not attracted to men. I mean, Lucas still looks incredibly appealing to me," Isadora answers.

"Bullshit, Lucas is hot to everyone," Zay jokes.

"Dude," Lucas says, judging his best friend.

"He's not wrong. Didn't Alex mention how most of your teammates ship you with Brandon?" Isadora asks Lucas.

Lucas just stays silent.

"Don't answer that," Zay says to Lucas, "It's been more than proved that if Lucas was gay, I would be his baby daddy," Zay answers in a severe tone, "And don't you dare to Chandler me," Zay warns Lucas.

"Dude, you keep giving me material to do it," Lucas replies, "Also, not the point of this conversation," Lucas says before looking at Isadora, "So, how you feel about that?" he asks her.

Isadora shows a tiny smile, "Honestly, I feel kinda happy?" she says in doubt, "I mean, the more I know about me, the better," she adds.

Lucas looks at Zay, "True," he says.

Both Lucas and Isadora look at Zay, who was a bit troubled, "Are you ok?" Isadora asks.

Lucas just chuckles, "Just let him be. He's on his universe giving you and Sarah a ship name, nobody asks," he says.

"Ship names are important, Lukey," Zay replies, "So, what are you gonna do about it?" he asks.

"Honestly?" Isadora says in doubt, "No idea," she adds, "For the first time in years, I don't know what to do," she continues.

"Don't worry, it's ok," Lucas says, sitting next to Isadora, putting his hand on her shoulder.

"Whatever happens, you know you have us," Zay comments with a warm smile.

"Thank you," Isadora says, feeling happy.

"We are your friends. We have your back," Lucas says.

"Celebratory donuts?" Zay asks Isadora.

"That would be good," she replies.

"Let's go. We're buying," Lucas says, walking away from them.

"We still want to know the whole Farkle thing," Isadora says.

"Dammit," Lucas curses. 

I don’t even feel bad for making Farkle the bad guy on this.

[erin-bo-berin]

Darkest Storms & Brightest Rainbows (Part 2)

MASTERLIST

Part 1

Part 3

Hard Love (unofficial Part 4)

Since I couldn’t leave y’all hanging for too long, here is part 2 of my Spencer/Reader/Cat fic. This is where things kind of go in a different direction from the show, but I thought it would be a nice twist than what we know from the show. This takes place over about a year so that’s why there’s so many skips in time. But in this part, there’s some answered questions from the first part...only to be replaced with more unanswered questions and perhaps another cliffhanger. Happy reading!

Spencer Reid/Reader

Word Count: 4,168

Rating: G (some angst, some fluff)

Grief is a strange thing.

Some people grieve quietly, away from the public. Others, dive into work or another activity to keep their mind busy as they try to place that grief into something else. Occasionally, people skip grief and go straight to anger, questioning the world why they lost their loved one; but in most cases one grieves normally, keeping the person alive in their memories as the pain fades and becomes easier to live with.

But sometimes, grief can consume you. It can completely engulf your entire body, feeling like every cell of your being has been replaced with sorrow. The world doesn’t seem real as the only world you inhabit is the one inside you, filled with despair and sadness. No one could ever be able to describe it, no one could truly know how awful it feels.

You had never felt such a horrible feeling. At least not until now.

•

It was less than a week later that Spencer’s funeral was held. The amount of people that had shown up was astounding, not that you could blame them. Spencer truly was one of a kind; not only great at his work, but a wonderful person.

You couldn’t help but think the sea of black that surrounded his casket was a metaphor for your current emotional state. The world felt dulled by your pain. 

With nowhere else to go, you were forced to stay at Spencer’s apartment, a blessing and a curse in one.

The dark green walls, the deep brown furniture, the living room filled with shelves and shelves of his books were both comforting and painful at the same time. You couldn’t help but notice just how quiet the entire place felt without him to fill the atmosphere with his knowledge and loving nature.

Almost immediately after the funeral, you took to staying in bed. The deep brown sheets still smelled like him and you didn’t want to leave. You just wanted to stay in this little bubble forever.

•

 The scenery was filled with busy streets, people walking by on the sidewalk and cars and buses zooming past on the street.

He sat at an outdoor table of the small café, sipping his coffee, awaiting his company. It wasn’t long until he spotted her amongst the crowd of pedestrians, her long blonde ponytail swinging as she walked.

“Hey,” she sat down across from him.

“Coffee?” he offered.

“No thanks.”

She pulled out two manila envelopes, ready to get down to business. 

“In here is the information you need to access both of your bank accounts. One here in Moscow, the other in St. Petersburg. Both have enough in them for you to be comfortable while you lay low.”

“Alright,” he took both envelopes and put them in his bag for safe keeping.

“Are you doing okay?”

“I’ll be fine. How is she?”

She blew out a breath, not sure she could tell him just how bad it was.

“Not good.”

“Promise me one thing, okay?”

“What’s that?” she asked.

“Take care of her while I’m gone. Please, JJ, that’s all I ask.”

She nodded, moving to stand.

“Be careful, Spence.”

•

It’d been only a month. 30 days since you’d heard the terrible words “Spencer’s gone”.

You couldn’t wrap your mind around the fact that he never made it off the operating table. The bullet had just been too hard to find, there was too much blood, he was crashing too fast.

At least that’s all you could remember being told by the doctors, the numerous members of the BAU and other people you couldn’t remember. It was like the entire experience had been wiped clean from your mind, only bits and pieces of memory flashing here and there.

Your mental health had taken a nosedive. You barely left bed because all you wanted to do was sleep. You ended up losing your job, but you didn’t have enough energy in you to even care. 

You didn’t eat.

You barely managed to get out of bed for a shower. Somehow you stumbled to the shower maybe once a week and that was because your friends made you.

It had been a rotating crew of the team visiting you. 

Mostly it was Penelope, Emily and JJ, but Rossi, Morgan and Tara stopped by a few times too.

Even Hotch showed up.

You could tell just how much your misery bothered him and he, like Morgan, spent his time trying to make things right rather than pay you visits.

Not that you cared all that much.

“We will catch her,” Emily said.

You sat in the middle of the bed, one of the brown sheets in your hand as you played with it, not looking up at your company that was sitting on the edge of the bed.

“Spencer wouldn’t want this for you. He wouldn’t want to see you not able to leave bed, not being able to grieve properly,” she said gently.

“I don’t know what Spencer would want. Cause he’s not here, is he?!” Your lower lip trembled, tears threatening again.

“I’m sorry,” you apologized, brushing away the tears although it did no good since they were falling faster than you could wipe them away.

“It’s okay, I understand.” Emily pulled you into a hug, “We all miss him too.”

She let you cry until you felt completely drained of tears. With all the crying you’d done, you were amazed there were still tears left to shed.

“Have you eaten anything today?” She pulled back, looking at your face.

“I tried to eat some toast this morning, but I threw it up.”

“It’s probably because you haven’t eaten much,” Emily answered, “Do you want me to get you something? We could order a pizza?”

You shake your head, your stomach rolling at the thought of it.

“Thank you, but no.”

When Emily left ten minutes later, you crawled back into bed, shutting your eyes, willing sleep to come and rob you of your memories.

•

“We should tell her.”

“Garcia, no. You know that Hotch advised against it,” Morgan said.

“But she’s miserable,” Emily added.

“Guys, Spencer made us promise we wouldn’t tell her. It’s safer that way. If she knows he’s alive, Cat could come after her to get to him. That’s the last thing he wants,” JJ said.

“I was just over there last night and took her some food. I thought she was going to puke just looking at it. It’s like she’s wasting away to nothing,” Penelope frowned, “Literally and figuratively.”

“Reid was basically all she had, other than us. With no family left, we’re all she has,” Rossi jumped in.

“That’s why we’re not going to give up on her, okay? Or finding Cat,” JJ said, looking around at the other teammates, “We’re going to find this bitch if it’s the last thing we do.”

•

The next time you had company, you were too busy with your head in the toilet to hear anyone let themselves in.

“Oh my goodness, honey.”

You hear the distant voice of Penelope Garcia as she rushed into the bathroom, kneeling to rub your back as you retched again.

“Did you eat something bad?”

“I haven’t eaten anything for 48 hours. I’m amazed there’s anything left in me to throw up,” you groaned.

“How about I make you some of my infamous Garcia chicken noodle soup?”

You nodded, even though your appetite was nearly nonexistent and let her assist you back to the bedroom.

“You look horrible,” Garcia winced, “Sounds like you’ve caught a nasty bug.”

You pulled the sheets up over you as you laid back down.

“Tell me about it. All I want to do is sleep but I can’t for throwing up. Plus I guess I’m starting my period cause my boobs hurt like hell.”

“Oh that’s the wor-” she paused mid sentence and you look up at her, waiting for her to continue.

“I’ll be back in a little bit okay? You just rest and I’ll get that soup started.”

She dashed out of the room and you peered after her, too exhausted to question what was wrong. Soon after, you drifted off.

-

“JJ, Y/N’s throwing up, exhausted and her boobs hurt doesn’t that sound just like…?”

Penelope was pacing the length of the kitchen, which wasn’t very big to begin with, as she talked to JJ on her phone.

“Yeah, it does,” JJ agreed.

“Should I ask her or?”

“Give me an hour to grab Emily and we’ll be there.”

•

“Y/N?”

In your dream, you woke to Spencer shaking you gently, smiling sweetly down at you. Your heart swelled with love for him, just looking up at him. You reached out to touch him, when he called your name again. Only it wasn’t coming from him this time.

“Y/N? Y/N?”

You felt a gentle shake of your shoulder and your eyes opened to see JJ, Emily and Penelope surrounding you. You sat up, rubbing your eyes, confused.

“What’s going on?”

“Garcia called and told us you’ve been pretty sick lately,” Emily said, “I remember you said you were sick the last time I visited. How long have you been throwing up?”

You shrugged, “It’s been off and on for a few weeks. Why?”

The three exchanged a look before turning back to you.

“When was your last period?” JJ questioned.

“Oh, uh,” you stopped to think, realizing you’d been so consumed with grief you hadn’t even registered the absence of your monthly cycle.

“About two months before the hitmen case.” Your eyes widened at the realization.

That was over 3 months ago now. Then, you’d just assumed it was stress making you skip your periods.

“Could you be pregnant?” Garcia gasped, trying hard to suppress her grin.

“I...I don’t know,” you answered truthfully.

You couldn’t remember the last time you and Spencer had been intimate. The last few months of his life had been so busy, filled with cases that usually it was just a matter of being together when you had a spare moment.

“Don’t worry. That’s why we brought these.”

JJ held up a bag with three different pregnancy tests.

“One for each of us to check,” Emily added.

“Now why don’t you go take these and go take a shower. We can check them after you get out,” Garcia said.

You nodded, obeying their orders. 

After a quick shower, you stood in fresh clothes, your hair still dripping wet. The three women stood looking at the pregnancy tests you’d taken and left out.

“Well?” you asked, biting your thumbnail.

“Positive,” JJ answered.

Emily looked up from hers, “Positive.”

“Positive!” Garcia squeaked, bouncing on her feet.

You felt your mouth drop in utter surprise and wonder, your heart feeling lighter than it had in weeks.

“I’m...pregnant?” you whispered, tears forming in your eyes, a small smile on your face.

“You’re pregnant!” Garcia squealed, rushing over to hug you, the other two joining in on the group hug.

For once, your tears were tears of joy. There was a part of Spencer that would always live on through this baby.

You had a reason to live again; a tiny, growing reason, but a reason nonetheless.

•

The following weeks were less than desirable in your opinion.

After being forced to visit the hospital by your friends and having an examination by Derek’s fiancé Savannah, you discovered that you were severely dehydrated from your weeks of grieving.

You couldn’t help but feel guilty knowing you’d deprived your little one of the food and nutrients it needed to grow. Savannah—who happened to be close to delivering her and Morgan’s first child—had assured you that after some fluids from a couple of IVs you would be fine. All you had to do from here was to continue to eat properly and take your prenatals and the little one would be just fine.

“This is what you get to look forward to,” she’d  chuckled, rubbing a hand over her round 35 week pregnant belly.

You had found out that you were 12 weeks along, just a week shy of your second trimester. Unfortunately, you had still experienced morning sickness all day long and still only looked bloated, not pregnant.

But time passed quickly.

Four months turned into six. Six turned into eight. There were many changes that happened around you besides the growing human inside of you.

The search for Cat continued, the team working their asses off to find her, but with no luck nor leads.

Changes to the team happened too.

Derek Morgan retired from the FBI, wanting to be with his now wife, Savannah and his little boy Hank. You’d sent him off tearfully. He was one of Spencer’s best friends, one that you had become close with too over the years, but you knew he was going to be the best dad.

A new member joined in his place, Luke Alvez. He had been familiar with Spencer as well and the team welcomed him into the family, as did you. 

Then Hotch decided his time with the FBI was coming to an end. After a particularly grueling case, he put in his resignation paperwork. He was happy to be a more involved father to his almost teenaged aged son, Jack. You wished him all the best, knowing he was going to have the time of his life with more time for Jack, even though it was hard to see him go.

Emily stepped up as the new unit chief and brought in agent Matt Simmons, another agent you were familiar with. A tall, handsome, hardworking sweetheart, you were glad to welcome him to the team as well.

The changes within you were just as extreme as the ones around you.

Your belly grew bigger, your little one stronger. You felt kicks and movement daily now, each move warming your heart, although you couldn’t help but wish quite often that Spencer was around to witness this. He would be so in love with this baby, you were sure of it.

You struggled with the decision to find out the sex of the baby. With a vote between you and your friends, it was a unanimous vote for yes.

Mere weeks after the discovery of your pregnancy you found out you were carrying a precious baby girl. You were completely overjoyed, as was the entire team. You couldn’t help but feel grateful for the team of people that would be loving extended members of the family and of course, babysitters. Occasionally though, the melancholy feeling would creep back into your subconscious.

Spencer would’ve been over the moon knowing he was going to have a little girl. He would’ve spoiled her so much and she would have him wrapped around her little finger. You missed him daily, even though a part of him grew in your belly. You couldn’t help but be sad for your little girl who would never have the chance to meet her amazing father.

It was then after many weeks of contemplating a name, that the perfect one came to you. You decided to keep it a secret until she was born, much to the team’s dismay, but you wanted it to be a surprise. In your heart though, you knew it was the perfect name for her. 

-

Your ninth month of pregnancy had finally arrived as did the other symptoms of your final trimester. You were tired, achy and felt like you’d swallowed a watermelon. You were so ready to get this baby out.

As if overnight, Spencer’s apartment had been filled with baby things in preparation for her arrival. Her crib was in the spare bedroom, although she wasn’t going to leave your side for the first few months, hence the bassinet next to the bed in the bedroom.

Bottles were lined up in the kitchen, boxes of diapers sitting in the living room. You couldn’t believe it was almost time to meet her; secretly you hoped that she took after her daddy, both in looks and personality.

“How are we feeling today, mama?” JJ asked when you met her and Garcia for your weekly lunch.

“Like a huge, swollen basketball,” you laughed.

“Hey princess, auntie Penelope can’t wait to meet you,” Garcia rubbed your belly, making you grin.

“Maybe you need to give her more pep talks because I’m so ready for her to get out,” you groaned, “And to see my feet again.”

“Henry and Michael are so excited for her to be born,” JJ chuckled, “I’m going to have to tell them to be gentle with her though, they’re not used to little girls.”

You grinned. You loved JJ’s two boys. Spencer had been their godfather, so you’d kind of become an auntie to them. She often brought them to visit you when you were still grieving Spencer’s death and they were the only ones who could bring a smile to your face during your darkest period.

After you’d found out you were pregnant and started rebuilding your life again, you often volunteered to babysit them. Other than your little girl, they were the ones who motivated you to begin healing and getting stronger. 

They got more excited the bigger your belly grew. Henry, the oldest would often try to explain to his younger brother Michael that babies came from mommy’s tummies. He also told him that there came a point when mommy and daddy loved them so much that there was no room left for the baby in the mommy’s belly. So, the baby had to come out in order to get the rest of that love. It warmed your heart knowing that one day, your child would be this big and this smart.

You were so thankful for them and for the entire team in general for pulling you out of the hole of despair you’d been in for you might not be sitting here right now.

When you’d ordered, the three of you sat and chatted about their current cases and baby stuff until you felt a slight trickle down your leg. With a glance under the table, you realized your pants were soaked. For a moment, you thought you’d peed yourself.

You groaned, expressing your concern. Even though that was just a symptom of pregnancy, it wasn’t any less embarrassing.

But the flow of the trickle became heavier. When JJ came around the table to assess the situation, her eyes widened, taking in your now soaked seat.

“I think your water just broke.”

A flurry of activity followed.

-

18 hours of labor and nearly 2 hours of pushing later, you were holding your daughter, staring at her in amazement.

Her tiny fist was holding onto your finger and you smiled down at her, tears blurring your vision. It was early yet, but you thought she looked just like Spencer.

She had a head of brown hair, his eye shape and his mouth, but your nose; although it looked much cuter on her.

“She’s so cute,” Garcia cooed at her, stroking her cheek.

“Spence would be so happy, Y/N,” JJ said.

You smiled up at them. They’d been the ones you’d requested to be in the delivery room and they’d been amazing helping you through the rough labor.

“Can I hold her?” 

“Of course,” you smiled, handing her to Penelope.

“Me next,” JJ smiled, holding her little hand.

“So are you gonna tell us her name now or what?” Garcia urged.

“Yes,” you smiled, “I thought it would be appropriate for her to always have a part of her daddy with her. So I decided to name her Spensa. Spensa Rose Reid.”

“That’s beautiful,” JJ breathed, looking down at her, “Hello, Spensa. You look just like your daddy.”

��

Adjusting to being a single mother was difficult, but so rewarding. It helped a ton that you had so many willing helping hands, as well.

Spensa was such a laid back baby and loved to be sociable, even at five months old. She truly was the light of your life.

You loved watching her grow and learn new things, from rolling over to waving and clapping her hands. She babbled a lot as well nowadays.

Her dark head of hair had lightened to a lighter shade of brown and was just starting to curl at the ends. Her blue eyes surprisingly hadn’t turned dark yet and she still looked so much like Spencer.

She had the little dimples in the side of her cheeks that only showed up when she made specific expressions and she liked to scrunch her nose occasionally, just like daddy. It was almost hard to tell that she was yours, but you didn’t mind one bit.

She was the sweetest baby and you fell in love with her more every day.

As to be expected, the entire team fell head over heels for her and often took turns visiting when they had time. Sometimes, you even took her to the BAU to visit all her aunts and uncles.

You often talked to her about Spencer, even though you knew she was too young to understand. It was amazing how the knowledge of her had eased so much of the grief you had felt those first few months. You still longed for him, missed him so much, but in a way he was alive and with you within Spensa.

It was nearing her bedtime one night and you were rocking her in the chair next to the crib.

“Do you want to hear another bedtime story about daddy?”

She baby talked in response, playing with her toy giraffe.

“Well, your daddy was the bravest man I know. He was so passionate about his work and he was good at it too. He was sweet as you are, ladybug.”

You tickled her stomach, smiling at her giggles.

She laid back in your arms, still playing with the toy in her arms, her gaze on you.

“He cared so much about the people he loved. He would have loved you too munchkin. He loved kids so much and he wanted his own some day. I wish he could be here to see you.”

The tears choked you and you wiped a hand over your face as they fell. Spensa started fussing as if she could sense your sadness.

“It’s okay baby,” you repositioned her on your lap, reaching for the frame of you and Spencer on her dresser.

“You wanna say goodnight to daddy?”

Spensa babbled to the picture, putting her hand on it. 

It might have seemed silly to do such a thing every night, but you never wanted her to not know who Spencer was.

You kissed the top of her head.

“I love you, Spensa.”

•

In Moscow, it was a pretty standard day for Spencer. 

He had managed to set a pretty strict schedule in his time here. It had been nearly a year and he had gotten used to life in Moscow. He still worried daily about his girlfriend though, worrying for your safety.

It was Thursday evening, the usual time he went to the market, yet when he returned to his place, something felt off.

On the entrance table, there was a lone red rose and a note. His eyes scanned over the note.

Roses are red

Violets are blue 

I have a surprise

And a secret too

Love,

Cat

He automatically reached for his gun that he carried at all times, just underneath his pant leg, in an ankle holster.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” came the taunting, familiar voice from behind him.

He turned around to face the living room and saw Cat sitting in one of the arm chairs, her gun on the arm.

“Spencie,” she grinned, “Miss me?”

•

It was just after nine. Spensa had just been put down again after her 8 o’clock feeding and you were attempting to rinse some dishes off before you headed to bed.

The tv played in the living room and you turned, confused when you no longer heard any sound coming from it. You shrugged it off, chalking it up to a possible power outage.

You returned to the dirty dishes, the clinking plates masking the noise of the sliding porch door clicking shut. A creak from behind you made you freeze in place. You glanced up, a figure approaching behind you clear in the reflection of the window. 

Before you even had the chance to cry out, something hard struck the back of your head and everything went black.

•

You groaned, your head pounding. You reached up to rub the sore spot, wincing as you try to sit up. It was bright behind your eyes and you fought to slowly open them, blinking a few times until your surroundings come in to focus.

That’s when you saw them.

Across the room stood your dead boyfriend, lips locked with none other than Cat Adams.

Tag List: @dreatine​ @reid-187​ @groovyreid​ @reidslibra​ @suvikamahes98blr​ @fuckthealarm​ @whatspunispun​ @iamburdened​ @cindywayne​ @thomasfoockinshelby​ @tinyminy88​ @theitcaramelchick​ @missprettyboy​ @hushlilbabydoll​ @sammy-jo1977​ @theonlyone-meeeee​ @haileymorelikestupid​ @lemonypink​ @multifandommandy​

[debbiechanclub]

Best Two Out of Three, Part 4

I frickin’ love this chapter, and I hope y’all do, too. I hope you’re ready for some ~drama~

Also, thank you to everyone who’s reading and supporting this little project. It means more to us than you know <3

Best Two Out of Three

Part: 4/26

Pairing: Kenny Omega x OFC x Hangman Adam Page x OFC?

Warnings: Language use, angst

Word Count: 2.6k

Catch up on previous parts here.

“Hey Britt, can I ask you something?”

Callie caught up with Britt in catering at the next episode of Dynamite. Something had been stewing on her mind that required the opinion of another female; and, of all the women on the roster, Dr. Britt Baker, DMD, was the only one she felt she could truly trust not to go blabbing to Alex.  

“Sure!” Britt smiled as she took a giant bite of banana. Callie didn’t waste any time.

“Do you think there’s anything going on between Adam and Alex?”

Britt abruptly stopped chewing. But Callie went on before she could ask any questions.

“It’s just that… after we got back to the hotel after Double or Nothing, he went somewhere. And ever since he’s been acting… I don’t know… distant.”

Distant was an understatement. In the month-and-a-half since Callie had moved in with Adam, they hadn’t been able to keep their hands off each other; sometimes they could barely make it through the front door before they ripped each other’s clothes off. But ever since Double or Nothing, Adam hadn’t seemed nearly as interested. At first, Callie had tried not to immediately think it was because of Alex. Maybe Adam was just stressed, or maybe the “honeymoon period” of moving in together had finally worn off. But, the more she ruminated, the more she convinced herself that the change in his level of affection had to be because of Alex.  

Britt shifted in her seat as she swallowed. “He didn’t say at all where he was going when he left?”

Callie shook her head. “No. He just said, ‘I’ll be back,’ and walked out before I could even ask. He was only gone ten or fifteen minutes… but still. I can’t help but feel like he went to see her.”

Britt gave a slight pout as she pulled the banana peel down further. “I don’t know. Why don’t you just ask him where he went?”

She expelled a tired sigh. “Because I’m sick of asking him about Alex. It always turns into an argument. He gets defensive and I get angry and we just go around in circles.” She picked at the label on her water bottle, frowning. Even though she didn’t want to admit it, Callie knew she was a bit sensitive when it came to Adam’s relationship with Alex. But how couldn’t she be? It seemed like every other day he gave her a new reason to be suspicious.

Britt’s brow furrowed. “But if it’s bothering you then you should ask him about it, Cal. If you hold it in, it’ll just fester and pus up—like an abscess tooth.”

Callie grimaced. “Thanks for the imagery, Britt.”

She grinned, proud of herself. “That’s Doctor Britt, thank you very much,” she returned; but then something caught her eye across the room. Adam and Alex walked into catering together, talking and laughing about something. Alex playfully shoved Adam on the shoulder. Britt’s face dropped.

Callie’s brow creased. “What?” she asked. She turned around before Britt could stop her. She bit down on her jaw. What. The. Fuck.

Adam said goodbye to Alex and walked over to Callie and Britt. “Hey, baby,” he said. “Why didn’t you tell me you were going to catering? I would’ve come with.” He kissed her on the head as he pulled out a chair and sat down. He was completely oblivious to Callie’s bubbling rage.

“Oh, so I have to tell you where I’m going?” she bit. Her chair screeched against the floor as she abruptly stood from the table. “See you later, Britt,” she muttered, and she left without a second glance.

Adam watched her storm out, utterly confused. He looked back at Britt. “Um, what the hell was that about?”

She pursed her lips. “Really?” she flatly returned. “You have no idea why she could be upset with you?”

He stared back at her before shaking his head. “No.”

Britt rolled her eyes. “Well, you’re not doing much to stop her suspicions about you and Alex are you, Hangman?”

His eyebrows arched when he heard that. “Excuse me?”

Britt interlaced her fingers as she put her elbows on the tabletop and leaned forward. “Last weekend my hotel room was right across the hall from Alex’s. I heard your little powwow with her after Double or Nothing.” She smirked. “I knew you two went back, but I didn’t realize you have history.”

Adam’s eyes steeled. “So what you’re saying is that you eavesdropped on our private conversation.”

She sat back, a smug look on her face. “You’re deflecting. That seems awful guilty.”

That touched a nerve. “Alright, I don’t need this from you, too,” he said as he stood from the table. “Alex and I are friends, and I was checking on my friend after my girlfriend hit her with a chair. That’s it.” He turned to leave—but Britt said something that made him stop.

“Well Callie is my friend, and I don’t like seeing her like this.”

Adam briefly closed his eyes before he turned to face her again. “There’s no excuse for what she did to Alex, Britt.”

She frowned up at him. “I know. But you literally went to talk to Alex in the middle of the night without telling Callie. So can you really blame her for being suspicious?”

Adam’s face fell. There was nothing he could say to that; Alex had essentially said the exact same thing.

Britt let out a remorseful sigh. “Look—I’ve planned a little get-together for the roster after the Dark taping tomorrow. Come with your boys; I think everyone needs to blow off some steam and have a little fun.”

Adam shook out of his thoughts. “Sure; whatever,” he returned, and he turned and walked out of catering.

Britt watched him go—and then she glanced over at Alex. She was sitting alone a couple tables away, her legs propped up and crossed at the ankles on an empty chair, scrolling through her phone. Britt pursed her lips as she stood up and made her way over, tossing her banana in the trash. When she was just a few steps away, Alex looked up.

“Oh; hey, Britt,” she greeted.

“Hey, Alex.” She leaned on the tabletop, grinning down at her. Alex blinked.

“Can I help you wi—”

She cut her off. “Listen. I’m not sure what’s going on between you and your friend Hangman, but you two need to figure it out. And if you don’t, I’ll fill Callie in on the details of the little conversation you had outside my door after Double or Nothing.”

And with that she turned and left, leaving Alex to stare after her, dumbfounded.

* * * * * * * * * *

Callie walked into The Elite’s dressing room, deflated. A million different thoughts flew through her mind at once. She wanted to believe that Adam wasn’t lying to her; that, even if he had gone to see Alex that night, it was completely innocent. But something about the way he’d walked into catering with her, a giant smile plastered on his face; it seemed like he didn’t care about her feelings at all.

A tear fell out of her eye and she angrily wiped it away. She refused to just sit there alone and wallow. It was time she took matters into her own hands.

She jumped up and marched back out of the locker room, making a beeline for production. Kenny stood in a circle with Cody and the Young Bucks, talking about something or other. She didn’t bother to say hello before she interrupted and said, “I want a match against Alex tonight.”

Kenny was utterly taken aback. “What?”

“You heard me,” she said. “We’re wrestlers, Kenny; let us settle our shit in the ring. Or would you rather we keep getting into locker room brawls?”

Cody raised his palms in the air to absolve himself of the situation. “I’ll let y’all deal with this one,” he said as he cast Kenny a look and walked away. Kenny pursed his lips and glanced at Matt and Nick.

“Give us a minute,” he said. Matt and Nick exchanged a knowing look as they left. As soon as they were gone, Kenny turned back to Callie. “I can’t give you a match against Alex tonight.”

Her brow furrowed. “Why the hell not?”

“Well, for one, it’s too late; the show’s already booked,” he explained. “And for two, even if it wasn’t, I don’t think you’re in the right frame of mind to have a match tonight.”

Callie’s eyes widened. She felt her blood start to boil. “Excuse me? What do you mean, I’m not in the right frame of mind?”

“I mean this—how you’re acting right now,” he returned. “I can’t in good conscience give you a match knowing your emotions could get the best of you, Callie. Someone could get seriously hurt.”

She rolled her eyes. “You mean you’re worried Alex could get seriously hurt.”

“And you! You get reckless when you’re angry! You could just as easily hurt yourself as you could Alex!”

Callie glared up at him, her hands balled into fists at her sides. It didn’t matter that Kenny had her safety in mind just as much as he did Alex’s; all she heard was that he thought she was a dangerous hothead. “Well, it’s good to know you think so highly of me,” she spat, and she turned and stormed out of the room. She marched all the way back to the dressing room and into the bathroom. She went into a stall and shut and locked the door, pulling her feet into her chest on top of the toilet. She just needed to be alone.

* * * * * * * * * *

If there was anything Alex hated, it was petty bullshit drama. And if there was anything she’d learned about Callie since she’d started dating Adam, it was that she wasn’t made of sugar, spice, and everything nice; she was made of pettiness, bullshit, and drama. In fact, the only person more dramatic than Callie on the entire AEW roster was Britt Baker; and if they’d decided to combine their shit-stirring powers against her, Alex knew she would need to get ahead of it—fast.

She marched to The Elite’s locker room and started to burst through the door; but she thought better of it and knocked. Someone called for her to come in, and she pushed her way inside. Kenny was the only person there. Good. He was exactly who she wanted to see.

“Alex.” He sat up on the couch, surprised to see her. “Hey.”

“Hey,” she returned. “Can I talk to you?”

He nodded. “Of course.”

She gave him a tight smile and moved across the room to sit on the opposite end of the couch. He pivoted to face her better. “What’s up?”

She got right down to business. “I want a match against Callie. Not tonight,” she quickly added. “I know the card’s already set. But maybe next week? Hell, put it on Dark—I don’t care as long as I get it.”

Kenny let out a sigh of resignation. “She asked for a match, too,” he revealed. “Well—demanded one. She wanted it tonight.”

Alex rolled her eyes. “Why am I not surprised.”

He frowned at her. “I want to give you a match. But I’m worried it could get out of hand.”

“More out of hand than a locker room brawl?” she charged.

He rolled his eyes. There wasn’t anything he could say to that.

“Look,” she went on. “I know Chuck and Trent aren’t gonna let me go out there by myself. So, if it’ll make you feel better, I won’t object if you and Adam are in Callie’s corner.”

He arched a brow. “You sure about that?”

She pursed her lips. “Just give me the match. Please. You said you would handle it, and this is how I want to handle it.”

Kenny let out another sigh as he looked up at the ceiling. For a moment, Alex worried he would say no; but then he looked back at her. “Alright. Next week on Dynamite you’ll get your match. A regular match—I’m not giving you no DQ or anything like that. It would be a recipe for disaster.”

Alex nodded. That was all she wanted. “Thank you.”

She started to leave; but then Kenny spoke up again. “Alex, wait.” She looked back at him, waiting. He looked reluctant to go on, but then he spit it out. “I hate that I’m even asking this… but there isn’t anything going on with you and Adam, is there?”

Alex’s eyes darkened. “No, Kenny, there isn’t,” she firmly stated. “And even if there was, why would you care?”

“Come on,” he breathed. “I would care. You know I would.”

Her eyes widened. She couldn’t believe him. She couldn’t believe he had the nerve. “Don’t do that.”

“Don’t do what?”

“You know what,” she spat. “We already did this, Kenny. I waited for you to figure out your feelings, and I got sick of waiting so I moved on. So don’t sit there and pretend like you’d actually care if I was fucking someone else.”

She stood up and marched toward the door. Kenny called after her, but she didn’t look back or stop. She was done with the conversation.

And, unbeknownst to either Alex or Kenny, someone hiding in the bathroom had heard the entire thing.

[stellar-imagines]

SCENARIO REQUEST: ❝swap issues.❞

[ Fandom: Boku no Hero Academia ] [ Characters: Bakugou Katsuki ]

「Bakugou and you were arguing when you’re both hit with a villain quirk that caused you to change bodies with one another. Unfortunately for you, or rather Bakugou, you’re about to get your period.」

BAKUGOU KATSUKI

An argument with Bakugou wasn't that rare. Given his temper and behavior, it was no surprise that you'd eventually get into a fight. He's pissed over something, no surprise there. You weren't sure what it was all about but seeing him all angry in the alleyway, hidden from everyone, made you wince. The loud explosion sounding off and his screams of anger. You were certain that you'd be deaf the moment you stepped into the room. This act was making him look like a bad guy and you were having none of it. As his girlfriend, you knew about him the best. He's misunderstood and actually has good intentions, it's just that he loses his temper a bit too fast.

Calming him down was like defusing a bomb. You cut off the wrong wire, then you're fucking screwed. It was just shortly after you both finished up a job. However, the two of you were in separate divisions and you had no clue to what triggered him. So you did your own research, asking a few people about what happened out there in the field. You didn't remember the full detail but hearing Midoriya's name was more than enough. The two were rivals with completely different personalities and to be honest, Bakugou always makes things a competition. The moment you approached him, he was already aware of your presence.

"Come on now, are you really that pissed?" you asked casually. Bakugou looked up, narrowing his eyes at you. He was still dressed in his hero costume, minus the gauntlets and neck brace. 

"Take a hint, dumbass. Do I look like I'm happy?" he voiced out his thoughts without thinking it through and that actually threw your off. You had expected him to click his tongue, tell you to find your own business like he normally does. You weren't sure how to respond to that.

"You're both on the same side! Instead of getting pissed over how he arrived at the scene, you should be glad that no one got hurt. What the press said about " you told him, watching as he dropped the towel and turned to glare at you.

"You don't fucking understand what it's like! Don't act like you know everything. You don't have to lie to me face about it to make me feel better." his voice was slightly raised and you could easily tell that he didn't like that you were taking this matter too lightly.

"I'm not acting like I know everything. I'm not lying to make you feel better either. I'm just telling you that—"

"Just fucking stop there, I don't want to hear you pitying me." Bakugou was pissed and it wasn't hard to tell. His voice grows louder and louder up to the point where he was going to explode. If you took the wrong step he will surely blow up. His hands were balled into tight fists, his quirk threatening to go off.

"When in the hell have I been pitying you!?"

"Shut up! Get off my back!" an explosion went off.

"You telling me to be quiet? Fine, I can't even deal with you right now." you huffed at him. It was really uncalled for. You try to help and he just blew up in your face. The two of you were oblivious to the shadow slowly approaching the two of you and kept on arguing. The silhouette was an unfamiliar one and you both noticed it when they spoke. 

"Two Pro Heroes, fighting in the middle of the day is quite amusing and that shows that you're both very careless and incompetent!" Neither of you were quick enough to avoid the blast that emitted from from the palm of the villain's hand. You were able to shield your eyes from the bright light. 

It felt odd. All you could say that it didn't hurt like you expected it too. Your muscles were tense the entire time and they relaxed when the light faded, your wrists felt heavy and your head hurt a bit. When the pain dissipated, you were in shock. In front of you was your body. You looked at your hands, which were Bakugou's and suddenly the weight on your wrists made a lot of sense. 

"What do you mean we fucking switched bodies!?" 

"Calm down, [First Name]-san—Kacchan!" Midoriya shrunk back in fear, clearly intimidated by the angry look on your face.

"Oi! Don't yell so loud, Katsuki!" you scolded your boyfriend.

"Calm down you two. Until you're both back in your own bodies, you have the day off." Aizawa who happened to be the one in charge of leading the attack came after hearing that you and Bakugou ran into the villain. Without any problem, the other heroes managed to capture the villain who was the reason behind the predicament you're in. 

As much as it annoyed the two of you, neither of you were going to be able to properly work like this. And maybe, a break was just what the two needed. The two of you needed a chance to rekindle your relationship after all. Bakugou was annoyed but he knew that yelling and complaining about it wouldn't do anything. He also didn't want to recreate the same atmosphere as the day before. It surprised you how civilised and calm your boyfriend was behaving. You both sat on the couch, the silence being your company.

"You're surprisingly calm despite being in a sucky situation." you spoke.

"Whining and complaining won't change a damn thing." he grumbled.

"I wished you realized that sooner instead of getting angry at me." you sighed out loud. It was like he was punched in the gut. It wasn't hard to tell that you were referring to what happened yesterday. You didn't want to appear petty but you just couldn't help it. His words hurt you and you were upset. You didn't want to cry over something so ridiculous. However, remembering the way he yelled at you made your heart hurt.

"Hey." he moved a bit closer to you. All that aside, hearing him talk to you in your voice just sounds so damn weird.

"I admit that I made a mistake. You don't need to start crying."

"I'm not crying or anything."

"Yeah right. Something's in your eye right?" he said. You found yourself smiling a bit as he mimicked the remark that you often used. Maybe it was because you felt happy that Bakugou actually tried to apologize. Sure he didn't state 'I'm sorry.' but it's close enough. You rubbed your eyes, relieved that you weren't tearing up.

"I know that this sucks right now but we're gonna get through this hell together." Bakugou said, leaning on you.

"Yeah, you're right. We're gonna get through it."

"That's the fucking spirit."

"Actually, there's one problem. It should be mine but now that you're well.....in my body, you're the one dealing with the problem." you rubbed the back of your neck. Bakugou rose an eyebrow, clearly not really worried like you were.

"What? Fucking perverts stalking your ass or something?"

"No.....it's nothing like that." you laughed nervously.

Bakugou had expected something really serious. Did you have some sort of injury that you had been hiding from him? A secret? Had you been circulating drugs illegally? No, you’re stupid but you’re not retarded. When he was dragged into the room and being handed a few things that looked like painkillers, heating pads and whatnot, all he could wander what the fuck are all these for. Now, he was standing in the store at the feminine hygiene aisle looking at ten different brands of sanitary pads.

"I wish I had a boyfriend like him!" Bakugou heard a girl gush. 

"He looks like he knows his shit and he’s handsome too." the other said before walking away from the aisle. It fed his ego since it was his body that the girls were checking out. You, who's in his body, was oblivious to the comments that girls were saying.

"So this one is a bit thick but overall soft and it gives you the feeling—"

"It looks the fucking same to me just buy whatever you fucking get!" Bakugou snapped, rolling his eyes.

"I guess the mood swings are in full swing." you said, trying to hold in your laughter. It was supposed to be an unintentional pun and when you realized it, you couldn't help but laugh. Bakugou let out a noise that was akin to annoyance, clearly unamused with your humour.

"All I want is the shit that can help with this pain! It feels like a persistent diarrhoea that I can't fucking get rid off!" Bakugou complained while you tossed in a few items into the basket before heading to the counter to checkout. After purchasing the items, you both headed back home. And the the entire time, Bakugou complained about the pain and the uncomfortable feeling in his stomach. He lost all motivation to even move and decided that the couch was his new bed.

"How are you feeling now?" you asked.

"Like I've been hit by a bus, and kicked by a kangaroo. I just want to fucking sleep." Bakugou grumbled, hugging a pillow close to his stomach.

"You want some cuddles?"

"Are you kidding me? How are cuddles gonna make this feel better?" he questioned as he made space for you.

"Just trust me. I've done this with you so many times." A small laugh escaped your lips as you laid down with him, wrapping your arms around his body and pulling him closer.

"Fuck that actually feels so comfortable."

You smiled gently, letting your boyfriend cuddle you on the couch. The silence between you didn’t last long and much to your surprise, Bakugou broke it. He gazed up at you with a face devoid of emotion.

“I’m feeling horny.”

“Are you being serious right now?”

“Blame your period, now I’m the fucking mood. Do something about it.”

Total: 1662 words Published: 13.12.2019

Thank you for requesting! *｡٩(ˊᗜˋ*)و*｡ It’s been a month since we last posted something and that’s because we’re really busy with studies uwu I have a test tomorrow that I have NOT studied for and honestly, I’m just really bad at studying :’) Anyways, we’re sorry to make you wait so long. So, uh, funny thing, I’m actually on my period right now. Any of you experiencing KILLER CRAMPS!?  Some of my friends are lucky enough to not have cramps. ― author Hibiki/Lou

Thank you for requesting! College is killing me and I just hope it finishes me off. Lou who has 3 assignments to do over the break has no time to be typing anything. We both have Christmas break but Lou has assignments while I have reports and analysis to do. So it’s not really a break. We hope you like it and we’re so sorry to make you wait, anon. ― author Natsuki

Please do not mind the grammar mistakes and typos.

[apathycarestostudy]

Motivate me to get my butt in gear friend !! Uni opens again in a month !! Must finish syllabus before then !! Must stop reading fics and being in denial! Help! (P.S ily :p♡)

Hello hello love. Here are some tips I think will help, mixed in with a bit of nagging, wrapped up with some tough love!

So here we are. First, I’d like to commend you for recognizing that it’s time to get back on the hamster wheel so soon. You’ve a month left, which is ample enough. 

Don’t beat yourself up with time lost

You might be thinking you should’ve gotten up sooner, or done more, or done something some time ago. That doesn’t matter anymore. Yes, I’m an advocate of owning up to your faults, but for one second - recognize it, acknowledge it, and then move the hell on. Never mull on it unless it poses a problem and mulling on it would fix it. So stop all those thoughts - make a firm decision that you will drop all berating, toxic, or otherwise negative thoughts at the door. It won’t go away soon, you’ll need to keep stopping yourself mid-thought, but try to get it down. It’s a simple thing to start with, and I believe you can do this much. My mom always tells me, once someone apologizes, take their apology and leave it at that. The resentment won’t go away quickly, but release it. And I believe when you apologize to yourself, you should forgive yourself, and release.

So please release it.

The three Ps I just made up - paper, pen & plan (or phone, pad & plan)

I tried lmao. Phones be ruining everything. If you didn’t get it tho, by pad, I meant notepad or memo or whatever’s on phones these days. Specialized apps, all of it. It’s just that none of them started with a P and I -

Get your preferred medium of...recording stuff, and don’t make a plan. Yet. I want you to write down a list of things you need to get down before the month is up. A sentence per task. For example:

Get more connections on LinkedIn

Save up 20% of my allowance

Finish a writing commission

Finish a course I signed up for

(..........)

So something like that. One liners you need to finish up. And then don’t plan yet. After you’re done listing everything that needs to get done, you split the page in half (or just write it next to it in parentheses on your phone like this) and write “constraints”. Not emotional ones at first - try and write a logical constraint. Like for the course I signed up for, the logical constraint would be I have no time for it anymore because I got something better - an internship opportunity - and the emotional constraint would be I’m not interested in it anymore, or I don’t wanna lol. So write up some logical constraints. Is the workload a lot? Are you family members sending you off to do stuff for them and you have no choice but to do them and forsake your time? Do you not have an empty notebook to get started? These are all valid hurdles you may face.

Now, if you have some that have no constraints yet, write your emotional ones. You don’t want to. You’d rather do something else. Fanfiction. All of that. 

Look back at your list. What’s causing the emotional ones? How can you get rid of the logical ones? Remove them, run away from them, address them, or ignore them - pick one.

Now, plan.

Distractions

So when I feel like I should get up and do something, I’m learning to seize that feeling prematurely and do it. I say prematurely because you know when the thought matures, you’re gonna talk yourself out of it or dismiss it, so you gotta grab that as soon as it crosses your mind. How to stop doing what you’re doing immediately? Remove access to the distraction. And I don’t mean use those apps - although if it works for you, go on with your bad self. If not, do the old school method of throwing your phone to the roof of your cupboard. 

Yeah. I had this period of time where nothing stopped me from indulging in fanficion - not even deadlines and consequences, which are the biggest things that drive me to do stuff, and the only way I could get over it was to throw my phone over the cupboard. I gave myself a hurdle to stop me from pulling it back towards myself, and not only that, imagine the shame of getting a chair, dragging it all the way to the cupboard, climbing up on that thing, and then pulling your phone down - just squeezing lemon juice in your damn eye and living with that burn. So, put a hurdle up.

(cupboard = dresser btw, not sure which word y’all use so)

You don’t need a whole lot to get started

Going back to not having an empty notebook. There was a time I needed one to get started, but I didn’t want to go out and buy one, and so I kept putting off my work and blaming the fact that I don’t have a notebook. You don’t really need the notebook to get started. I could’ve easily pulled out my laptop and used One Note or MS Word or whatever if I really wanted to work. I mean I hate using digital stuff, but I could’ve sucked it up if I really didn’t want to go out and really wanted to work. The right answer was I really didn’t want to work, not the notebook.

Just start. Screw the notebook, screw your shitty pen, screw the messy table - just start. Shove all the mess to the edge and cram your arms in that tiny space and just start. You don’t need highlighters or a bottle of water or quiet time or the lights dimmed three notches down or your face moisturized or your plants watered - just start.

Not saying all of that is unnecessary, or wouldn’t help, but when it comes down to it, you don’t need all that to start. Don’t waste your time preparing to study or work. Just start.

Just start. Get your scrappy paper that’s 1/4 cut in a weird angle and just start.

One thing is better than nothing

I know I’ve said that a whole lot. A WHOLE LOT. But it’s true, and you truly need to take that to heart. If you’ve scratched one thing off your list, that’s good. 

But here’s what I’d do if I felt like I needed to do more.

First, seize that feeling. Next, do more. Start a little mantra of, “Just one more!” and do it like you’re taking one more cookie out the cookie jar. One more cupcake. One more chip. One more practice question. Romanticize it. Say it like you desperately want it, even if you don’t and do it. Oftentimes it’s the start that has us feeling some type of way, but once you accept what it is - as in you start eating it a little more quickly - you’ll sink into it and release that feeling. Next thing you know, you’ll find yourself done with one more thing.

Still tho, one thing today is one thing off your plate. Celebrate that, and promise you’ll do one more - at that moment or some other time.

Lesson from Naruto: give yourself a self-rule!

So there was this character in Naruto that was a total failure. He didn’t make it into the ninja academy, so he decided to give himself a self-rule: “If I run 500 laps, I’ll be accepted as an alternate.” which means he’ll be placed as a back up in case an already accepted student drops out. His father finds out, scolds him, and says that’s not a self-rule. That’s a wish. A self-rule doesn’t involve anyone else. A failure to accomplish what you say is accountable to you. Not circumstance, not anyone else. 

His father says, “Because of that [a self-rule on your self only], you are able to gather your strengths and focus on your efforts...That is how a self-rule works!” So how does the character change it? “If I can’t do 500 laps on my hands, I’ll do 500 push-ups!”

You see what I’m going for? 

I am not saying do 500 laps on your hands - this is a ninja anime we’re talking about here - I’m saying apply a self-rule that keeps you accountable and feeds into your efforts. Say, “If I can’t do ten practice questions, I’ll do ten rounds of this example question!” Give yourself an alternative you have to do if you fail your first attempt, and have it be of the same magnitude. What happens if you can’t do both? Keep adding on of course! The character would say, “If I can’t do 500 laps on my hands, I’ll do 500 push-ups! And if I can’t do 500 push-ups, I’ll do 500 sit-ups!”

Limitations exist, and you may not be able to get it the first few times, but eventually, the character manages to do 5000 laps - and he falls tiredly into his father’s waiting arms.

Just a little nice bonus I thought would be fun to add. I do something like this, but not as well thought out of course - I’d say something like, “I’ll do process design questions right now, and if I give up half-way, chemical separation processes is waiting for me.”

I thought I’d stop here because it’s getting kind of ramble-y and I think this’ll be enough of a push to get you started. Maybe not a push even - a nice little pat from your friend that’ll evolve into a push by your fine self. You can do it. Just start LOL.

I’mma end this with a positive note from that same episode of Naruto. Here’s a quote from that father to his son when he asked him why he was so chipper when he failed so much and couldn’t be “strong” (as in overcome the obstacles in his way). I see this in our lives, be it with friendships, biting your tongue when your boss yells at you, or giving up after failing a class.

“True victory isn’t about winning from someone strong. It’s about defending what’s important to you!”

[lyssismagical]

just for a moment in love

Parkner {And minor Thompsborn} Febufluff Day 23-26 - Secret Admirer, Love Triangle, Confessions, and Forbidden

Read on AO3

*

It’s a month into the school year when all the drama of the summer finally catches up to him.

Peter sighs loudly like he’s purposefully trying to get May’s attention for his sullen behaviour. He even collapses onto the couch dramatically, arm tossed over his eyes, and sighs again.

May laughs, soft and gentle as she moves around the kitchen behind him. “Not that I’m laughing at you, honey, but what’s up with you? Something happen? Does it have anything to do with why I haven’t seen Harley around here for weeks?”

Sighing again, Peter tries his best not to let the heartache return. “Yeah… We broke up last month. Before I left.”

There’s a gasp in the kitchen followed by a crash as she drops a pan on the counter, and then she’s sitting down on the couch by his feet.

“You broke up? Oh, honey, what happened?”

“I told him I loved him,” Peter explains quietly, huffing out a third sigh. “And he said okay and then he left. And then I had to leave and I didn’t have Wi-Fi at the camp, so I couldn’t even try to figure out what happened.”

Peter had this fancy Nerd Camp over the summer, Tony signed him up for. It was incredible and Peter had a lot of fun, he learned a lot, but it was hard to focus with Harley weighing on his mind.

Not to mention Flash had been there.

“He just left?”

“Yeah. He didn’t even tell me why. If he didn’t love me or if something was up or if I did something… I don’t know. He just walked out, said it would be better if we called it quits before I left for three weeks.”

May offers a sympathetic smile, rubbing his ankle. “I’m guessing there’s more to this story?”

Sighing again, Peter finally lifts his arm from over his eyes, looking over at May. “Yes… I may or may not have started seeing somebody new.”

May’s head tips to the side, eyes hardening. “You’re seeing somebody new? One month after your three-year-relationship ended?”

“Flash was at camp with me and he was, you know, nice. He made sure I was doing alright, and he was being a good guy, so I kinda just jumped on new opportunities.”

“And, what? You’re regretting it? You still miss Harley? You realized it was impossible to throw a three-year relationship down the drain for a new guy who’s been kinda mean to you for years?”

Peter rolls his eyes, knowing she’s right. More right than he’d like to admit, but he doesn’t want to want Harley anymore. Harley broke his heart.

He laid everything out on the line with the big L-word and Harley broke up with him for it. Peter would’ve been fine had Harley just explained.

“I like him,” Peter argues. “Flash is a good guy.”

May doesn’t make the obvious statement of but not as good as Harley. Instead, she says, “Good for you, but don’t throw away a twelve-year friendship over this, alright? You were best friends before you ever started dating. Try to sort this out, okay?”

Peter reaches for his phone, prepared to text Harley already, see if he wants to talk, but his pockets are empty, phone missing.

He assumes he left it in his bedroom or maybe in his bag, and instead curls up against May’s side and letting her pick the movie.

In the morning, he’d have to try to put himself together for another day of school, being Flash’s boyfriend, ignoring Cassie’s glares, trying not to dwell on Harley’s red-rimmed eyes, and focusing on schoolwork.

For now, he could pretend like everything was fine and dandy, curled up with May on their old couch, and forget that Harley was missing from their family movie nights.

* Betty’s the one who clues him in at lunch the next day when he still can’t find his phone.

“Listen, I wasn’t supposed to tell you, Brad made me swear I’d keep it a secret for just one more day, and you know how much I hate going against stuff that he says, but I saw Flash with your phone,” she says when Peter complains that he can’t find it.

“What?”

“Yours is the one with the sparkly Iron Man case, right?” Betty asks, tapping her fork against her plate incessantly. “Yeah, I saw Flash with it in second period. He’s in the gym with Brad, if you wanna go talk to him.”

Peter gets up and heads to the gym, ignoring MJ and Ned asking if he wants them to go with him or to not do anything stupid.

“Hey, babe!” Flash calls out, jogging over. He leans to kiss Peter, but Peter ducks out of the way, glaring at Flash.

“No, not happening. You stole my phone?”

The reaction is instant, face falling and shoulders slumping. “You found out?”

“Yeah, I found out! What was so important that you had to steal my phone instead of talking to me about it?”  

“Let’s not do this here,” Flash murmurs, glancing over his shoulder at Brad.

“No, I’m not going to let you pretend this all okay. What’s going on?”

Flash sighs and scrubs a hand harshly over his face. “I had to delete a voicemail.”

“Who was the voicemail from? Why was it so important that I didn’t see it?”

Flash sighs angrily and grabs Peter’s elbow. “It was from Harley, whining about how much he misses you or some bullshit. You didn’t need to hear it.”

“Are you really that insecure that you think I’m just going to up and leave you because Harley asks for me back?”

“No, I’m just upset that he thinks that it’s okay to try anything while you’re mine.”

“I’m not yours, you asshole!” Peter jerks his arm away from Flash. “I’m not anybody’s property! And definitely not yours after all this bullshit.”

Flash’s jaw clenches. “You’re seriously breaking up with me? Over a stupid voicemail?”

“I’m breaking up with you because you’re being an asshole, Flash!” Peter exclaims, glaring at his ex. “If you really cared, you would trust me enough not to take my fucking phone.”

Flash pulls the phone out of his pocket, Iron Man phone case sparkling insultingly. “Then take it. Go running back to Harley. See if I give a shit.”

Peter takes his phone back, doesn’t bother arguing any further, and turns out of the gym. He makes it all the way to his locker before he breaks down in tears, angrily wiping them away even as they continue to fall.

It’s just his luck, isn’t it?

* He’s at home, listening to May bustle about the apartment from his bed, trying to bring up the courage to call Harley or maybe Ned or even MJ, just to try to think things through, when there’s a knock on the door.

May opens it and he hears her talking quietly to somebody.

Peter listens as the door shuts again, and then there’s a knock on his bedroom door.

“It’s open!” he calls out, sitting up.

And then Harley walks in.

“Oh my god,” Peter says stupidly. Because holy shit Harley’s got the worst black eye Peter’s ever seen and he’s crying.

“I know- I know we’re not together anymore. I know I fucked this up and I’m sorry, but I just- I needed a place to stay and I- I didn’t know where else to go.”

Peter scrambles to his feet. “Are you okay? What happened? Cassie said you were going through a rough time, but I- I don’t know.”

“My dad’s back,” Harley breathes, sitting down on Peter’s bed, shoulders slumping miserably. “And my mom just wants to forgive him. After everything he did to us. How fast he just left, all those years ago.”

“Did he….” Peter doesn’t know if he’s allowed to ask that kind of question, but Harley laughs coldly.

“Nah,” he says, fingers running over the bruise. “That was Flash. My fault, really. I went after him, calling him some nasty names after I saw you crying in the hallway. I provoked him and he snapped. Don’t really blame him.”

Peter’s eyes widen and he freezes in confusion, silent.

Harley shrugs. “Know I shouldn’t have. Know you’re not mine anymore, but you’re still my best friend and he hurt you.”

There’s obvious hesitation in his movements as he sits down on his bed beside Harley, but at the end of the day, they’re still best friends. And his best friend is hurting.

“Is there anything I can do?” Peter offers.

Harley’s face falls a bit, wiping at his eyes again. He sniffles and glances over at Peter, red-rimmed blue eyes filled with some sort of unexplainable emotion. “I could really go for some hot chocolate? Maybe a movie? I just- I know we’re not what we used to be, but if you could just… hold me?”

Something inside Peter cracks at the quiet question, irreparably broken. “Yeah, of course. You get comfy, and I’ll be right back.”

That night, tucked together in Peter’s bed, blankets pulled tight around their shoulders, they both think about what used to be. A three-year relationship ended. Peter regrets saying the L-word that day. Harley regrets not saying it. Neither of them says a word.

* They walk to school together when morning eventually rolls around, carefully making sure their hands don’t brush.

“So, your dad’s back, huh?” Peter starts, needing to start somewhere. The silence had gotten tense. Awkward. Which hadn’t ever happened between them in their long friendship.

“Yeah. It’s been over ten years since we’ve seen the guy, fucking gas station line and all, but he showed up two weeks ago, totally out of the blue, wanting to fix things. And, I mean, I get it, I do. He realized he fucked up. He realized he left his two kids and wife out of the blue, no explanation, but ten fucking years, and he thinks he can just waltz back into our life?”

Peter purposefully lets their elbows brush on the next step. “How’s Abbie taking it?”

“Better than I am,” Harley admits, shrugging. “She doesn’t remember him. Doesn’t remember the hell he put Mom through. She just knows that he’s sorry and that Mom’s already forgiven him. It’s like Mom’s forgotten the years after he left where we could barely get a meal on the table every night.”

“I’m sorry,” Peter says because he isn’t quite sure what else to say.

Harley shrugs again, holding his chin high. It makes the sun sparkle wonderfully through his hair and in his eyes. “Yeah, I know I should give the guy a chance, but I can’t let him hurt us again. I can’t let him ruin Mom again. I’m just- I’m really fucking angry, and I couldn’t stand another dinner at home where everybody pretends things are how they were when we were little.”

“You can always stay with me. Door’s always open.”

And Harley smiles, openly and genuine for the first time in a long time.

“Hey!” somebody calls out, jogging towards them, effectively cutting them off.

Harley takes a protective step in front of Peter like he’s the one with the superpowers.

“What do you want, Flash?” Harley demands, voice low and cold. “I think Peter made it clear yesterday to leave him alone.”

“I just want to talk,” Flash says, lifting his hands in surrender. “Listen, I know I made a mistake, and I’m not asking for you back, I think we’re both aware what we had was a rebound, at best, but I wanted to make things right. Give you an explanation.”

“Yeah?” Peter asks, forever the forgiving, kind person. He moves to stand beside Harley, offering a reassuring smile. Flash’s lip is split, healing, knuckles bruised.

Flash nods, fiddling with the hem of his sweater. “I’ve had this huge crush on a guy for as long as I can remember, but his parents know my parents, and there’s a lot of bad blood. I was being stupid, thinking I could ever be with him, but I would leave him letters in his locker every day.”

“Romeo and Juliet style bad blood?”  

“Yeah, but hopefully it doesn’t end the same for us,” Flash says, laughing nervously. “I really like him, but our parents would kill us if anything ever happened between us, so I tried to pretend I was into dating you, even if I like somebody else.”

Peter goes to call him out, that it’s not fair, but it’s pretty obvious that Peter did the same if Harley, standing next to Peter, wearing Peter’s sweater, smelling like Peter’s home, says anything.

“So?” Harley asks.

“So, I’m sorry,” Flash says, frowning. “I’m sorry I hurt both of you because my head’s so messed up right now, but I want to be friends with you both. I want to make things right.”

Peter offers a smile. “Yeah, of course. I just wish there was something I could do to help with you and Harry.”

“Harry? How’d you know?” Flash’s eyes widen, jaw-dropping. “Is it that obvious?”

“I mean we all kinda thought you were already a thing for a while,” Harley admits, lifting an eyebrow. “You both stare at each other all day, and I heard Harry reading out a love letter sent to him by you.”

“I signed them anonymously.”

“And somehow, Harry still knew it was you,” Peter says. “I think, fuck what your parents think, fuck what his parents think, do what you want. It’s your happiness that matters.”

Flash nods, smiling at them. “Even if it’s cursed? Like tragic Romeo and Juliet, forbidden love story?”

Harley shrugs, pushing Flash’s shoulder encouragingly. “Of course. Go get your man, Thompson.”

Grinning, Flash takes off towards the school, obvious excitement in his steps. It’s the start of a friendship, a strange one at that, but a friendship nonetheless.

“You think they’ll get their happy ending?” Harley asks, leaning into Peter as they start walking again, it feels more right to walk shoulder-to-shoulder not awkwardly spaced out like they didn’t know how to walk together anymore.

Peter shrugs. “I think they deserve it, Mister Stark’s mentioned things about the Osborns and the Thompsons, if anything, they deserve each other.”

Nodding, Harley looks over at Peter, head tipping to the side. “Do you think we will ever get our happy ending?”

It brings unwanted feelings back. How Peter felt alone in his room after Harley disappeared on him, mumbling about taking a break and leaving Peter’s L-word unanswered.

Peter swallows thickly, not ready to let go of what they had, what he still wants, but not prepared to dive straight in like the past two months hasn’t happened.

“I hope so.” * Harley stays over again that night, saying that he’s not ready to see his family yet.

Peter missed Harley, missed the way Harley offers to cook for May and teases Peter relentlessly in the kitchen for inheriting May’s awful cooking, missed the way Harley slings his arm over the back of Peter’s chair in the dining room, making easy conversation with May. He missed the way Harley always finds an excuse to be close to Peter, missed how Harley looks right sitting on his couch, socked feet up on the old coffee table, grinning from ear to ear and making stupid teasing comments.

He missed Harley.

And it’s obvious May had been missing Harley’s presence around the apartment, something that had been a constant since Harley’s family moved in a few blocks away and they met at the park between their apartments, best friends since then.

Later that night, after May excuses herself to bed for an early shift the next morning, after the TV’s muted and conversation picks up just how it’s meant to after Peter gets a call from Flash shouting about how Harry said yes to a date, and after Peter gets a call from Harry reiterating the same thing, the conversation turns to the big question: Why.

“You know I didn’t want to break up with you,” Harley says like it’s meant to be obvious, but he catches Peter’s eyebrows creasing and his mouth dropping into a confused frown. “You didn’t know that?”

“No. I thought- I don’t know what I thought. I didn’t know why you left that night because you wouldn’t talk to me,” Peter says, sitting up properly on the couch.

Harley frowns, shoulders slumping. “I didn’t want to leave like that.”

“Then why? Why’d you leave like that?” Peter’s voice comes out wobbly and quiet, and Harley’s face falls, guilt immediately shining in his eyes.

“You have to understand that words like that don’t mean anything to me anymore,” Harley starts, hands fiddling with his shirt. “When my dad left, he said he loved my mom and that he’d be back in an hour, and only showed up now, ten years later. The kind of I Love You’s I know are the kind tossed around when you feel guilty or when you want something from someone, not because you love them.”

Peter freezes because that’s the opposite of how he grew up. He grew up with Richard and Mary keeping I Love You’s for the moments that mattered most like they had to keep the meaning there, so they saved it for moments of pure Love.

May and Ben were different. They shared I Love You’s like it was the only words in the dictionary. Good Morning, I Love You. Good Night, I Love You. Goodbye, I Love You. The words still meant everything, but they didn’t think that they’d ever run out of chances to say it.

“When you said that, I panicked.” Harley looks over at Peter like he’s desperate for him to understand. “Because I don’t know what that means. I don’t- I don’t get words. They don’t mean the same thing to me as they do to you.”

But it’s obvious that Harley does love Peter. Maybe not in spoken words, but in actions, in meaning. He walks three blocks out of his way just to walk Peter to and from school every day. He has protein bars under his bed and in his locker and in his backpack, just in case Peter needs an extra snack. He looks at Peter like he hung the stars. He remembers everything there is to know about Peter, his favourite colour, his favourite animals, all of his fears, every story Peter’s ever told.

“Oh,” Peter says because his brain is caught in a loop of big words and bigger actions.

“Oh,” Harley echoes, a smile touching his mouth in a way that crinkles the corners of his eyes and shows off the dimples in his freckled skin.

Peter nods and takes Harley’s hand, intertwining their fingers. “I think I get it.”

“You think?”

“Is it okay that I love you?”

And Harley’s smile widens, lifting Peter’s hand to press a kiss to his knuckles. “Yeah, it’s good, it’s nice. I like hearing it and I do love you, but I’m not good at saying it.”

“So you show it,” Peter finishes, leaning forward to press a kiss to Harley’s cheek. “That’s okay too, I don’t need to hear it to know it.”

“Does that mean we’re okay? We can go back to how we were? Because, I’ll admit, I missed you and I missed this.”

Peter nods, kissing the corner of Harley’s mouth. “We’re okay.”

* Tony hosts a dinner at the Tower a few weeks later, after Harley talks to him about the problems he’s having trusting his dad and after Peter mentions how bad he feels that Flash and Harry’s relationship has to be kept a secret, that all of their dates consist of sneaking out in the middle of the night.

May and Peter, the four Keener’s, Flash and Harry, Tony and Pepper, all gather for some sort of strange family dinner.

Flash and Harry are allowed to be affectionate without worrying about being caught, Harley’s allowed to express his concerns without fear of breaking up his newly reformed family, Harley’s dad is able to apologize properly.

“The important thing is,” Tony says, smiling around at them. “Family is more than just blood, it’s who you choose to surround yourselves with, and I’d say, we make a pretty happy family.”